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Mess Hall

Bluestreak chuckled at Red Alert’s assertion that bartenders do more listening than talking. It was true, of course, as the Autobot gunner had talked the audio receptors off of more than his fair share of barkeeps throughout the vorns. It was his gift of gab that kept the voices of the past at bay, and Blue wouldn’t give it up for anything not even for all the credits in the universe.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that, Red,” Bluestreak agreed as he placed the security director’s drink onto the counter while he considered which additive to mix in. “I’d make a lousy bartender for sure. Too much talk, not enough listening. I’d probably drive everyone out of the place and then what would we be left with? An empty bar, that's what! Ha ha! And that wouldn't be too good now would it? The last time I was in an energon bar, I told my whole life story to the mech behind the counter. I forget his name, but he was a real good listener, though. He took in everything I said and didn't complain once. What's-his-name just kept pouring me drink after drink until my credit limit was maxed out. I didn't get too much advice from him as I recall, but that was okay since I was just venting about stuff anyway.”

The black and silver mech then grabbed a small packet of a powdery substance and ripped it open before sprinkling the contents into Red Alert’s energon drink. Bluestreak let it dissolve for a moment, watching as the purple liquid seemed to glow a little bit brighter. Once the powder was completely absorbed, Blue turned back to face his paranoid comrade. “And don’t worry, Red, it won’t kill you. At least, I hope not!” The gunner let that last comment linger for a moment, hoping to get some kind of nervous reaction from his friend. “Gotcha! I was just kidding. Here ya go, buddy! I put a dash of beta-12 in there. Should give it a little extra kick. I’m sure you’ll love it! So, drink up and enjoy!”

Bluestreak handed the tall glass over to Red Alert and waited to see what he thought of the best energon substitute in the galaxy.

Incoming Private Message to Wheeljack from Tracer

>>”Wheeljack. This is Tracer. I’m the friend Smokescreen accompanied to the planet’s surface. We’re currently en route to the 22, but the shuttle has acquired a hull breach. I don’t think it’s going to make it all the way to the ship. And we need to get there as soon as possible. Smokescreen…Smokey’s been hurt. He’s in stasis lock and he needs help.”<<

Wheeljack’s New Lab

Wheeljack had taken his time setting up his new lab facilities on board the Ark-22. His equipment was securely packed away in a series of crates, most of which had never even been opened during their mission to Cybertron. Sure, he made use of some of his devices while there, but he never had the chance to properly set up a laboratory in Iacon like he wanted. There just hadn’t been the resources available or enough time to accomplish that goal. Still, he didn’t regret seeing his homeworld again regardless of the poor state it was in.

Now those crates were fully unpacked and the contents of which were placed around the facility in an orderly fashion. Wheeljack was nothing if not neat, at least until he got down to developing some new weapons array or fuel pump. Then his work space would quickly devolve into what appeared to be a disaster area, and not just figuratively, either. Tools and equipment would be strewn about haphazardly with very little concern for their proper place. Once ‘Jack was done working on a project he would clean up, but until that time it was enter at your own risk. That risk also included possibly getting caught in an explosion from one of the Autobot scientist’s failed experiments. Thankfully, most knew the dangers and avoided the mechanical engineer while he was working.

Wheeljack’s new lab was divided into two parts. There was the main chamber that one would enter when they first walked through the doorway. It was a fairly large space that allowed him plenty of room and mobility when toiling away on a gizmo or other crazy gadget. It was the part of his lab that was readily accessible to everybody if they dared to enter it. However, there was also a smaller, adjacent chamber located at the very back that served as his own private quarters. The door to that room was locked and protected with an encrypted code, giving him the privacy he desired during his downtime and would even allow him to work on some things that he wanted to keep from prying optics. Every mech had their little secrets and ‘Jack was no exception.

The mechanical engineer sat on a stool in front of his main worktable and began laying out a variety of instruments in front of him. Once that was done, Wheeljack pulled out the old cyber-rat trap he had stowed away inside his toolkit and placed it on the table beside the utensils. Well, Red Alert wants me to fix the damned thing, so I might as well attempt to do so. That way I can at least say I tried when he asks about it the next time I see him. The scientist still couldn’t believe the lies he had to tell to cover Smokescreen’s aft, not to mention that of his lady mech, as well. I hope she was worth it, bud, because I....

Wheeljack’s thoughts were interrupted by a private message over his comm line. He listened to it with intensity in his optics as the source of the communique identified herself as Tracer, the femmebot who went to the Earth’s surface with Smokescreen. Apparently, they were on their way back when the shuttle suffered a hull breach and would likely not make it all the way to the Ark-22. Worse still, the diversion expert was badly hurt and in stasis lock. Ah, Smokey, what the slag did you get yourself into?I knew something bad would happen. I just knew it!

Letting out a heavy sigh, Wheeljack knew that things could only get worse from here on out, depending on just how bad the damage was. More lies and more deceit were forthcoming and probably unavoidable to ensure that none of them got in trouble for this little escapade. Still, Smokescreen was his friend and he would not desert him or his friend now. The mechanical engineer considered his options carefully before he opened an encrypted comm line back to the Autobot femme:

>>”Tracer, this is Wheeljack. I read you. Stay where you are, and I will bounce you on board shortly.”<<

Wheeljack then stood up from his stool and instinctively grabbed his toolkit before heading out of his lab and making his way towards the bounce chamber.

Bounce Chamber

A half bream later, Wheeljack quickly entered the chamber and hurried over to the bounce controls. He began to scan the surrounding area of space but found nothing but static and the planet below. ‘Jack widened his scan before checking the console to make sure it was working properly. It took a few more moments of contemplation before the scientist realized what might be causing the problem.

>>”Tracer, this is Wheeljack again. I’m having a hard time locking on to you. If you’re still wearing my signature inhibitors, you need to take them off both yourself and Smokescreen. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee the bounce will be successful. Do you understand?”<<

Incoming Encrypted Transmissions from Tracer:

>>”I understand, Wheeljack.”<<

>>”Ugh. The inhibitors have been disabled. The three of us are ready to be bounced back on board; just, please, be quick about it.”<<

Bounce Chamber

Once the inhibitors had been disabled, it didn’t take long for Wheeljack to pinpoint Tracer’s location and lock on to her and her companions. The femme’s signature was the strongest while the other two appeared much weaker in comparison, especially Smokescreen’s. His was barely a blip on the control screen, but it was enough to secure a lock on him.

>>”Okay, Tracer, I’ve got you. Hold on tight and I’ll have you out of there in two astroseconds.”<<

With his last secured transmission sent, Wheeljack shifted the control lever upwards and initiated the bounce. An intense light filled the room as the three mechanoids materialized right before the scientist’s optics. Once the glare had dissipated, ‘Jack was able to focus on the console once more. He immediately deleted the current log file and replaced it with a new one that would hide the true nature of the bounce. It would all appear to be a simple misfire caused by a power surge. All data regarding who was bounced and from where was gone with no way of ever getting it back.

Once all that was done, the scientist peered over the terminal and was able to see, even from a distance, the horrible condition Smokescreen was in. “Dear Primus!” Wheeljack exclaimed as he rushed across the room and onto the bounce pad, kneeling down at the diversion expert’s side. He barely acknowledged Tracer or her pet turbofox as his attention was fixated on the inert form of his long time friend and comrade. “What the frag happened to him down there? He looks like he took a bath in a vat of acid!” The mechanical engineer shook his cranial unit in disbelief. He couldn't understand how this had happened let alone how Smokescreen's spark was still pulsating underneath all that mess, if only barely. “It doesn’t matter right now. We need to get him down to my lab right away if there’s any chance of saving his spark!”

Wheeljack got back up to his feet and quickly grabbed a hover cart that was sitting off to one side. After it was brought over to the bounce pad, the mechanical engineer stepped onto the platform again and lifted Smokescreen up in his arms and placed his dissolved body onto the cart as carefully as he could. Time was of the essence here, so he didn’t have the luxury of being too gentle. “Okay, my lab’s a half breem away from here. We’ll use the service corridor so we won’t be spotted by anyone. Plus, it will save time. Just follow me and keep that pet of yours quiet. We don’t need Red Alert hearing him. Now, let’s get going.”

The scientist wasted no time and pushed the hover cart out the door and into the service corridor that proved to be a more direct route back to his workshop. As he maneuvered through the thin tunnel, Wheeljack opened a comm line to Red Alert in order to let him know of the "accidental" bounce that was initiated. Hopefully, the lie 'Jack was about to tell would be believable enough to ward off another investigation by the paranoid mech.

>>"Hey, Red, it's Wheeljack. I just wanted to inform you that I was testing a new plasma coil on the bounce pad when it overloaded and caused a bounce to be initiated unintentionally. Nothing was transported, it was just a misfire. Don't worry, I've already fixed everything. Nothing to worry about. Just giving you the heads up."<<

Wheeljack’s Lab

The doors barely had time to slide all the way apart as Wheeljack shoved the hover cart, with Smokescreen inside, across the threshold and into the center of the room. Once Tracer and Razr had entered behind him, ‘Jack moved back towards the entrance and pressed the controls, closing and locking the doors shut. He then returned to the rallybot’s side and lifted him out of the cart and onto one of his worktables. It wasn’t exactly a medical berth, but it would have to do under these circumstances as taking Smokey to the med bay was out of the question. There was too much risk of exposure there. Besides, the mechanical engineer had what he needed right in his lab.

“All right, we’ll have privacy in here. No one can get in without my authorization. Now, I need to first do a full body scan of Smokescreen to see what exactly is going on here and what I can salvage, if anything.” Wheeljack’s words trailed off as he moved to another nearby workbench. He grabbed a small portable scanner and quickly switched it on. Then he moved back to the diversion expert’s side and held the device over the prone form of his gravely injured comrade. ‘Jack slowly glided the scanner from head to toe and back again as readings filled the tiny screen on the instrument.

Once that was completed, Wheeljack studied the readings carefully, shaking his head once again in astonishment. “I...I just can’t believe it. I’ve never seen a mech in such bad shape like this before and still be alive somehow. His will to live must be incredibly strong. Whatever chemical did this, it’s melted almost completely through his torso, except for his spark chamber, thankfully. And I’m not even going to ask where his right arm is.” Wheeljack then looked closer at the scan results and saw something else that was strange. “Wait an astrosec, what’s this? Looks like there’s an object in his right leg compartment.”

Wheeljack moved to the opposite side of the worktable and slid his actuators along Smokescreen’s upper leg until he found the compartment in question. Once it was open, the scientist reached in and pulled out a vile of unknown chemical. It was unknown to him, at least, but not to Tracer. “What the frag is this stuff?” Wheeljack demanded to know as he turned to face the Syk-addicted femme while holding the vile up at chest level. “Looks like a chemical of some kind. Is this a sample of what caused all this damage? You need to be honest with me now, Tracer, if I’m going to save Smokescreen’s life. Tell me exactly what happened down there!”

Bounce Chamber

There was one final transmission from the mechanical engineer letting Tracer know that he had initiated the bounce back to the Ark – 22. The femme waited patiently until that Primus sent bright light bathed all three of them in its secure embrace. And then the light was gone, and with it the three occupants of the derelict shuttle.

From the small space of the shuttle’s hold the three Autobots appeared on the bounce platform, two standing one lying unmoving in stasis lock. Immediately Tracer dropped to her knees beside Smokescreen’s still form. Her head snapped up when she heard Wheeljack cry out at the condition his good friend returned in.

Tracer flinched slightly at the engineer’s horrified and distressed exclamation. But she remained silent. Not wanting to focus on the distraught mech standing opposite her, Tracer looked back down at Smokescreen.

Devastation began to wash over her features at Wheeljack’s mention of getting him back to the engineer’s lab if there was any chance to save his spark. The femme simply nodded in agreement before getting back up on her feet. She watched closely while Wheeljack lifted Smokescreen up in his arms and quickly placed him on an available hover cart. He then hastily explained which way they were headed and moved out of the bounce chamber.

The trip took little time and before the scout knew it they were standing in front of the lab’s doors.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer stood by the white mech rubbing her hands together nervously as he opened the door and quickly shoved himself and the cart inside. Tracer and Razr followed suit. The small turbofox moved out of the way finding a comfortable spot just across the lab where he could watch both Autobots’ movements.

While her pet removed himself from the picture, Tracer stepped in close to one side of the worktable Smokescreen was laid out on. She winced and let out a soft whimper as she finally got a better look at just what Oil Slick had done to him. The blue and white femme turned her head away and placed a hand over her mouth.

Tracer remained in that position while Wheeljack explained everything he was doing to the red and blue rallybot. The sound of his astonishment caused her to look back, but she kept her optics on the mechanical engineer. His mention of Smokescreen’s strong will to continue functioning brought a sense of hope to her.

She held tight to that hope until the scanning revealed there was something in Smokescreen’s right leg compartment. Tracer finally broke off her gaze from Wheeljack and focused, instead on Smokescreen’s right leg. To her knowledge he never mentioned anything about storing anything there…at least she didn’t remember him mentioning it.

She narrowed her optics as the white mech ran his fingers along Smokescreen’s upper leg. The sealed compartment opened up once he found the right location. He placed his hand inside and produced a vial; a vial similar to the ones she received from Oil Slick after she made her payment.

Tracer stumbled back a few steps, her optics wide with fear. She tried to speak, to let the scientist know that the substance was nothing more than a harmless sample they acquired on the surface, but the words escaped her. There was nothing she could say that would convince him that anything that occurred down on the planet was harmless.

The scout shook her head slowly while she kept her optics glued to the vial held tightly in front of his own chest. She thought for a moment before finally looking back up and into Wheeljack’s optics.

“I…I can’t.”

She quickly looked away from him and shut off her optics. There was no way she could look at him, but there was also no way she could lie to him. She onlined her optics and focused on Smokescreen’s still body. Her hands began to shake lightly as she gently traced the contours of Smokescreen’s cheek.

She continued her soft caress as she finally found her voice. If this was the only way to save him; then so be it.

“He just wanted to help me. To save me from myself. But everything went wrong. I told him to stay with the shuttle; to wait for me, but he followed. The vial…it’s Syk. He took me down to the planet so I could meet my dealer.”

Tracer slowly turned her attention back up to the scientist. Fear etched on her face, not only for being found out, but for possibly losing Smokescreen because of her addiction.

“It was Oil Slick. He doused Smokescreen in acid. He even doused the shuttle in it. It’s what caused the hull breach.”

Her optics dimmed as she turned back to the rallybot. Her fingers moving back to his cheek.

“Please, Wheeljack, tell me you can save him.”

Tracer placed her free hand on top of Smokescreen’s left palm and laced her fingers with his.

“He’s everything to me.”

Mess Hall

Red Alert kept quiet and carefully observed Bluestreak's bartending, giving a light chuckle when he thought it appropriate. The gunner seemed to take Red Alert's comments in stride, seemingly not suspecting that the security director may be on to something. All the better as the powder, supposedly beta-12, was mixed with the energon.

So which is, Bluestreak? Are you just a typical, talkative bot who's enjoying a drink with a fellow Autobot? Or are you a cunning, manipulative conspirator who plans to poison the one bot who may be able to put a stop to Prowl's mad quest for power? Which is it my dear "friend"?

With a smile on his face Bluestreak placed the drink on the table right in front of Red Alert. His attempts to appear calm and casual started to crack as Red Alert's paranoia started to show, staring at the energon substitute with ever growing suspicion.

Cautiously, carefully he took the glass with both hands and slowly brought it closer to him, as if it were a bomb ready to go off. Magnifying his optics to their limit, he looked directly into the liquid as if he could possibly see any poisons that might be in there. He then lowered his face closer to the glass, sniffing it with his advanced olfactory sensors for what may have seemed like a breem, attempting to scan every last odor within.

It seems to be a standard energon substitute, as well as beta-12 like Bluestreak said. But there's still plenty of other chemicals and poisons that may be able to pass through even my advanced sensors.

Red Alert looked back up, directly into Bluestreak's optics. He watched the gunner for any kind of sign, any tell or tic that would give away the slightest hint of malicious intent. As he looked down at the glass of energon substitute again, he recieved a communication from Wheeljack about causing an "accidental" bounce while testing some new device. For a minute Red Alert forgot about Bluestreak and his drink.

Right of course, an accidental bounce. Of course that happened, it's more believable than explaining how a shuttle, damaged beyond repair, made it all the way here from Cybertron, isn't it? What are you really hiding, Wheeljack? What did Prowl need to send that shuttle for, anyway? Just what part are you playing in this conspiracy?

Red Alert pushed his drink to the edge of the table, away from him, then opened a comm-link to the engineer. He spoke very calmly and unemotionally.

>>Understood Wheeljack, thank you for informing me.... Since you've moved onto other projects, does that mean the cyber-rat trap is functional now?>>

Closing the comm-link with Wheeljack, Red Alert stared at Bluestreak, cold and calculating. He had tried to play casual, but he had learned nothing of what was going on or who he could trust, and things were moving around him. If he was going to find out what was going on and put a stop to whatever Prowl had planned, he was going to have to be direct.

"If I'm going to drink this,", Red Alert said very seriously, "I need to know I can trust you. Tell me something, Bluestreak; do you know what Wheeljack was doing when we were on Cybertron recently?"

Red Alert took hold of the glass, still full of energon substitute. He stood up, looked at the glass in his hand, then gave Bluestreak a threatening look.

"And if you give me an answer that I don't like, you'll be drinking your own poison, and see if it kills you... Let's hope not."

Mess Hall

Bluestreak’s intention when he invited Red Alert down to the mess hall was to have drinks with an old comrade, chit chat a little (mostly on Blue’s part) and just sit back and relax. That’s what the Autobot gunner had expected to happen, but what he got, instead, was a level of paranoia that rivaled his own ability to talk non-stop. At first, the security director had appeared calm and not worried about anything in particular. Then, suddenly, an about face had happened and Red Alert turned very serious, demanding to know what Wheeljack had been doing up on Cybertron during the recent mission. The anxious mech followed that up with a warning that if he didn’t like the gunner’s answer, he’d make Blue drink his own poison to see if it would kill him. At that point, Bluestreak had heard enough.

“Seriously, Red? You really think I brought you down here to poison you?!” The black and silver mech’s tone had gone from his usual friendly self to someone who felt angry and insulted at the mere insinuation of such a betrayal. “Give me that!” Bluestreak grabbed the glass out of Red Alert’s hand and drank it down in one gulp. He then slammed it down on the table and stared his paranoid friend right in the optics. “See, Red? Nothing happened. I’m fine just like you would’ve been had you drank it. I brought you down here as a way for us to relax after the long journey from Cybertron. You know, to unwind your circuits since you tend to be just a little bit tense at times. I certainly didn’t bring you here to kill you if that’s what you thought!”

Bluestreak shook his cranium and turned away from Red Alert, placing both hands onto his waist. ‘Streak took a deep intake of air into his systems and let it out before turning back to look at the security director. “As for what Wheeljack was doing up there on Cybertron, I can only tell you what I know since the time I first arrived there. Remember I wasn’t a part of the mission from the very beginning. I got there by long-range shuttle later on when reinforcements were called in. When I joined the team, ‘Jack was helping to get Autobot Headquarters in Iacon back up and running. I don’t know all the details because I had my own duties to perform. Namely, I was helping Springer fix our automated defensive guns around the perimeter. I do know that Wheeljack eventually accompanied Rodimus and a few others to meet with Shockwave. The cyclops had requested safe passage into our territory in order to gather data of some kind in order to help restore Cybertron. After that, we were all called back here when Prime went missing. I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”

The Autobot gunner stopped talking for a moment, a rarity for him. His circuits had finally begun to calm down after losing his cool for a brief time, also a rarity for him. Bluestreak hadn’t felt such anger since the last time he’d seen a Decepticon on the battlefield. It was unusual for him to feel this way when around his own kind, but being accused of betraying his friend and comrade was like being accused of joining the Decepticons. It was something 'Streak couldn’t just let go without a strong response.

“Look, Red, you should know me better than that. After everything the ‘Cons have done to me, I’m the last mech who would betray you or any Autobot for that matter,” Bluestreak finally continued when his normal level of calm had returned. “I don’t know what you think is going on around here, but I think your paranoia is getting the better of you again. I’m not trying to be mean or condescending, I’m just trying to make you see how ridiculous it is to think that your own comrades are out to get you. Wheeljack and I are your friends. You’ve known us for thousands of vorns. We’ve fought beside one another on the battlefield. We’re here to support you not hurt you! Besides, if there’s any mech around here you should be suspicious of it’s Howlstrike. He’s a former Predacon for Primus’ sake! At least being paranoid about him I could understand, but not myself or ‘Jack. You really need to get a grip and relax. That’s why I brought you down here to begin with.”

“Now, if you don’t like my answer, then I’m sorry, Red. I’m afraid it’s the only one I’ve got,” Bluestreak added as he crossed his arms over his chestplate to see if anything he had said was sinking in to his paranoid friend’s circuits. He hoped all this crazy talk would stop as he couldn’t take much more of Red Alert’s paranoid delusions. Although, somehow he doubted it would end any more than his own penchant for non-stop chatter.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack could see that Tracer was afraid to tell him the truth, at first saying that she couldn’t. Whatever was in the vile he was holding was the whole reason she and Smokescreen had travelled to the surface to begin with and it eventually led to the diversion expert ending up in such a precarious state. Then, finally, the clearly upset and troubled femme told him what it was - Syk. She was an addict and needed her next fix from Oil Slick, her dealer. Apparently, Smokescreen had found out about her situation and tried to help her. It didn’t surprise ‘Jack one bit that Smokey was attempting to help a friend in need. He was certainly as loyal a friend as one could have, and his deceitful nature had enabled him to easily break the rules in order to get Tracer what she needed.

Of course, things had gone very wrong and Smokescreen paid the ultimate price at the hands of Oil Slick. The Decepticon chemist was known for extremely volatile concoctions, so the extensive damage the rallybot had sustained made complete sense now. Tracer was very lucky to have escaped unscathed. Unfortunately, Smokey’s body was unrepairable. The mechanical engineer could see that without having to conduct another scan. Some parts could be salvaged, but overall it was a total loss.

Wheeljack placed the vile of Syk onto a nearby bench and then approached Tracer. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” the scientist said as he placed a reassuring hand on the femme’s shoulder plate. “I figured it was something very important, otherwise Smokescreen wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to get you down there. As for saving him, I can’t save his body, but I can save his spark. After that, I’ll need to build him a whole new body. But, first thing’s first.”

The scientist removed his hand from her shoulder and then accessed a nearby storage locker where he pulled out a spark extractor of his own design along with a small metallic receptacle. Afterwards, Wheeljack quickly returned to Smokescreen’s side and placed the instrument and container down on the table beside him. ‘Jack leaned forward to examine the diversion expert’s chest area more closely. The acid had long since dried up, but the damage had been done. Nothing but a gaping hole was left behind, but it at least left a clear path straight to his spark chamber.

As Wheeljack picked up the extractor, a response from Red Alert came in over his comm line, giving thanks for informing him about the bounce. However, with that thanks also came an inquiry on the status of the cyber-rat trap. The mechanical engineer let out a deep sigh as he currently had more important things to worry about than traps.

>>”Sorry, Red, I was having trouble repairing the damned thing and decided to move on to something else. I’ll try to fix it again later.”<<

With that distraction out of the way, Wheeljack refocused on the task at hand. He quickly attached the container to the back of the spark extractor, before lifting the device up and maneuvering it over top of Smokescreen’s chest, front side facing down. The mad scientist then carefully lowered it into the rallybot’s innards until it had automatically latched on to the stasis-locked mech’s sealed spark chamber. Without delay, Wheeljack activated the exactor, and it immediately hummed to life with a warm glow. However, that gentle hum was quickly replaced with a much louder, harsher sound of scraping metal as the device forced the diversion specialist’s spark chamber open. The instrument then literally sucked the very life force out of Smokey’s chest and deposited it into the attached vessel.

Once the procedure was done, Wheeljack deactivated the extractor and disconnected the small container that now held Smokescreen’s still pulsating spark, which could be seen though a small window on the side. After placing the extractor down, the mechanical engineer walked back over to where Tracer was standing and handed her the sealed receptacle. “Here, do me a favor and keep Smokey’s spark safe. Since he was willing to give it up in order to protect you, I think it’s fitting that you now protect it until I can get a new body built for him. Agreed?”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Revealing her addiction to Smokescreen had been difficult, and she was close to him, but having to do it again to someone she hardly knew was completely mortifying. The thought of being judged or being look down upon was horrific, that wasn’t as horrifying as not knowing whether or not Wheeljack would report her to high command. If she was found out she’d spend the rest of her existence locked away in some penal colony, or worse, locked away in another asylum.

That thought sent a violent shiver down her spinal structure. Having already been subject to the inner workings of some of Cybertron’s more degrading mental facilities, Tracer decided she’d rather go down fighting than be subject to that kind of hell again.

But when she saw the mechanical engineer place the vial of the Syk concoction on the bench nearby she looked up at him. He had moved closer to her and, to her surprise, didn’t admonish her nor did he show any outward sign that he would turn her over to Prowl. With some great relief Tracer let out a heavy sigh. The kindly gesture of placing his hand on her shoulder was also a promising sign that, for now, she was safe.

Tracer nodded at the mention of hers and Smokescreen’s planned departure from the Ark – 19 having to do with something very important. He was right. She didn’t think the rallybot would do the same for anyone else. That thought brought a small smile to her face.

The scout’s musings were interrupted when Wheeljack moved on to more important things…like saving the red and blue mech’s life. The femme stared intently into the engineer’s optics as he spoke of not being able to save Smokescreen’s body. But he reassured her that his spark could and would be saved. She dimmed her optics at the same time she broke off her gaze from Wheeljack. Tracer stared down at the mangled mech’s form and ran the back of her hand down his cheek one last time.

She turned her attention back toward the resident mad scientist when she felt his hand move from her shoulder and he made his way to a storage locker. She watched intently as he brought out a device that looked strangely similar to a spark extractor, but the design was off so she couldn’t be entirely sure. It was when she spotted the metallic receptacle that she realized what he was preparing to do.

Her blue and white form moved away from the table giving Wheeljack as much space as she could without leaving Smokescreen’s side. Her optics zeroed in on the placement of the device in the prone mech’s chest cavity and winced when she heard it hum to life. It was soft, almost soothing, but it soon turned into the sickening sound of scraping metal. Tracer wrapped her arms around herself and averted her optics from the disturbing sight. She remained that way even when she could hear that the spark extractor had completed its job.

Tracer focused on the floor and nothing else, too terrified of just what she might see. She never even heard Wheeljack make his way over to her until she saw the soft, pulsing glow of Smokescreen’s spark reflecting off of her armor. She looked up, first at Wheeljack and then to the container he held out to her. Her optics never moved from the bright glow even when he asked her to keep him safe. Gently she took the receptacle in her slightly trembling hands and brought it in close to her chest…cradling it lightly.
The femme finally looked up and gave Wheeljack a grateful smile after explaining why he wanted her to look after him.

“Agreed.”

The smile faltered as she recalled what Smokey had said about Wheeljack and his inventions…they almost always blow up in his face, or in someone else’s.

“Wheeljack, I know this is going to be a rather time consuming task and that you’ll need to work long hours to get everything done. I was thinking that maybe perhaps there was someone who could give you a hand? Preferably a medic who won’t have a problem keeping all of this under wraps? Of course if you’d prefer to work alone, I’ll understand and I won’t press the issue.”

Please call someone! Please call someone! Because if you don’t I will.

Mess Hall

Apparently Bluestreak hadn't taken Red Alert's accusations of assasination very well- that wasn't too much of a surprise. The security director was however caught offguard by the gunner suddenly grabbing the drink Red Alert was holding and gulping it down.

So it wasn't poisoned. Unless that first drink Bluestreak had was the antidote.....

Red Alert kept a guarded look as Bluestreak berated him. If it turned out Bluestreak was innocent he would apologize later, but for now he kept a close watch on the gunner's expressions and mannerisms. As what Bluestreak knew of Wheeljack's activities were revealed, it seemed to Red Alert that the gunner was telling the truth, though his fixation on the former-Decepticon Howlstrike was a bit discerning. The gunner made a number of good points regarding his past loyalty with the Autobots and hatred of the Decepticons. The only problem was that, as far as Red Alert knew, the Decepticons weren't any part of this. This was entirely an internal matter within the Autobot ranks that threatened to tear them apart.

Red Alert stepped closer to Bluestreak and looked him right into the optics. If he felt any remorse or guilt toward what he had said or thought about Bluestreak, he didn't show the slightest hint.

"So you know nothing about Wheeljack experimenting with the Ark-22 shuttles? Nothing about any of the shuttles being damaged beyond repair and left behind on Cybertron?", Red Alert asked rhetorically.

It was then that Red Alert recieved a reply from Wheeljack about the cyber-rat traps. Red Alert's faceplate twitched as the engineer said he was having trouble fixing it. He was really starting to lose his composure as he had to hear more lies from an Autobot he thought he could trust.

"Of course you're having trouble fixing it....", Red Alert said to himself out loud, too frustrated to internalize his thoughts, "Because you're not even trying, are you? I'll bet that thing never even worked and you're hoping I'll get distracted by something else and forget about it! Just keep me further away from the truth, further away from whatever you and Prowl are doing!"

He looked back at Bluestreak, who stood with his arms crossed like he was expecting an apology or an explanation. For now he'd get neither.

"I don't know if you were going to kill me, distract me, or if you really are just being friendly.", Red Alert said annoyed, "The fact is I've been wasting my time with you. I'm going to the bounce chamber to get to the bottom of this. Do whatever you want, but if you try to stop me I'll throw you in a holding cell for playing a part in this conspiracy!"

Unceremoniously Red Alert turned around, and headed out the mess hall door.