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Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack watched Axle’s reaction to his counter argument regarding the medic’s inclusion in the lie they now had to tell. Clearly, something was bothering Axle and it was more than just being involved in all this. He appeared to be in actual physical pain. The mad scientist was about to question him when the field surgeon turned and apologized for his lack of thinking before instructing the engineer to contact Prowl and let him know what had supposedly happened to Smokescreen.

“No problem, Axle,” Wheeljack said as he gave the field medic a concerned look. The mechanical engineer decided it was best not to pry about whatever was bothering the medic as there was a more pressing matter at hand now. Speaking to Prowl was not something ‘Jack looked forward to doing as dealing with the military strategist was always a bit of a crap shoot. Sometimes, Prowl was very easy going and understanding, but that was only if he had something else on his processor that he found more important. Other times, he was a real stickler for protocols and following the rules right down to the letter. Hopefully, on this occasion, he’d been in a good mood.

Taking a deep intake of air, Wheeljack opened a secured comm line to the black and white mech: >>”Prowl, this is Wheeljack over on the 22. I need to speak with you at once in regards to an urgent matter. Do you have a moment to spare, sir?”<<

Several astroseconds passed by without an immediate response. The wait was enough to make any mech more than a bit anxious. Finally, Prowl sent a reply back on the same secured channel. >>”I suppose, Wheeljack. But you’re going to have to come over here to the Guardian and meet me in my quarters. I’m in the middle of preparing for an important scouting mission, and I have very little time to spare.”<<

Wheeljack sent a non-verbal acknowledgement back to the strategist and quickly took leave of his lab, heading for the Protectobot frigate as fast as his feet would carry him.
_________

Smokescreen remained silent as Tracer told him not to counter what she was about to say to him. He listened to her sincere words as though he had not heard her voice in many vorns. In reality, it had been many cycles since the incident down on Earth, but it seemed like a lot longer to him. His internal chronometer was brand new like the rest of him, and thus it was starting over just like he was in many ways. He felt different physically, but not too much so. As the troubled femme said, he was who he was and that would never change.

“I remember...telling you that,” the rallybot replied to her last whispered statement. “But, I must admit....I’m really glad....that I have you.” His smile widened as he gazed up into her brilliant optics.

It was then that Axle approached and glared down at the diversion expert, ordering him to get up off that slab and start walking around immediately. He was not to stop for at least eight cycles if not more, spending twenty minutes moving around and only five resting at a time. It seemed like a tall order considering his current condition, but Smokey was determined to get back to normal as soon as possible. Tracer still needed him, after all, as her Syk addiction had only been temporarily calmed by recent events and not cured. That goal would take far more effort to achieve.

“Yes, sir,” Smokescreen replied as Axle had already begun to pull his legs off of the make-shift medical berth while Tracer had quickly moved in and put his right arm over her shoulders. Before the rallybot knew it he was up on his feet, a strange sensation especially considering he now had a new body. Looking down at himself, Smokey couldn’t help but wonder what Earth-bound vehicle mode Wheeljack had chosen for him. The red and blue racer was about to ask the scientist when he made quick leave of the lab. “He’s in a rush, huh? Going to talk to...Prowl is he? Hope that...goes well.”

Smokescreen cast a sly smirk over at Tracer as she tried to support his body weight with her lighter frame. “You know, Axle mentioned incentives...to keep me going,” the diversion expert mentioned playfully to the troubled femme. “I’m certainly looking forward...to what you have...in mind, Trace. Heh.” The rallybot chuckled as he took his first step forward away from the slab he had been lying on for far too long.

(OOC: Sorry for the delay Smokes, needed to find the right time to catch up on writing while on vacation.)

Wheeljack’s Lab

“Yeah. Wheeljack’s got some stuff to discuss with our resident annoyance. And don’t worry; I’ve every faith in your friend, Smokescreen.”

Axle took a few steps back giving Tracer enough room to help Smokescreen up onto his new feet. He’d be a bit wobbly at first but of course that was to be expected. After all he hasn’t been online for more than a cycle.

The field medic took up a position next to the door Wheeljack had exited out of moments earlier. With any luck the mechanical engineer would pull off their ruse and Prowl would believe the Cosmic Rust story that would be spun.

Axle shook his head slightly as he placed a hand over his face and slid it down slowly. Convincing Prowl of anything was such a chore, and trying to get him to believe their story would be a crapshoot.

The larger mech took another look at both his patient and his femme and let out a heavy sigh. He’d gotten himself in deep before, but this was something else. Being found out about this…he wouldn’t receive a slap on the wrist and a simple demotion like last time…no this time he’d be incarcerated and possibly sent to one of the many prison institutes. Oh sure, it’d be one of the nicer ones, but who in their right mind would want to live out their existence in a cell?

His thoughts were quickly banished by a surge of intense pain radiating from the same location as his previous wound. During his work he had pulled a few energon and fuel lines lose not to mention tearing open a few new ones that had been installed.

Axle bit back a pain-filled yelp as he placed a hand on his abdomen and cringed slightly. He’d need to head back to the med bay soon to have Ratchet look at the damage, but there was absolutely no way he was leaving Smokescreen now that he finally got up and on his feet. No, he’d just have to grin and bear it.
____

Tracer smiled down at Smokescreen when he mentioned he remembered what he had told her so long ago. It felt good to know that he could recall something from that time. Before she could say anything more she found herself placing Smokescreen’s arm over her shoulder and lifting the heavier mech up onto his feet. She forced herself to stay steady as she leaned him closer into her side…placing her free hand around his back and resting it around the edge of his waist.

Once they were both balanced and Axle answered the rallybot’s questions, Tracer began to gently, and slowly help Smokescreen around the lab. They started out taking tiny steps with Tracer concentrating on how and where the mech placed his feet.

That concentration was broken when she lifted her head and took a quick look at Smokescreen who happened to be looking in her direction with a sly smirk on his face. Unsure of just what he had trolling around in his mind Tracer gave him a quizzical look…that was until he spoke. With a serious expression plastered on her face she looked at Smokescreen intently before casting him a suggestive smile.

“I’m not sure I want to give it away…but I will give you a sneak peek.”

Tracer stopped their movement around the lab and leaned in close. She gazed at him for a moment before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. She pulled back very slowly and looked him in the optics…a delicate smile replacing the suggestive one she wore only recently.

“I hope that was to your liking.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Smokescreen nodded to Axle as the field medic confirmed that Wheeljack was going to have a talk with Prowl regarding the events of the past several cycles, or at least the faux story they had apparently concocted to shield the truth from the prick-bot. “Annoyance is an.... understatement, Axle,” the rallybot commented with a chuckle as Tracer supported a good portion of his weight while he took small steps around the lab area. There was no real pain to speak of except for some minor soreness in his back where the T-cog had been transplanted. Smokey also felt a bit stiff all around, but it was nothing that wouldn’t work itself out soon enough. It was like a newly installed gear or other replacement part. It just had to be properly broken in. What the diversion expert felt most was weakness and instability. Getting used to the feel of a whole new body would take some time.

The unpainted mech reached the other side of the lab before slowly turning around with the intent of heading back the way he had come. As he did so, Tracer looked over at him with a suggestive smirk on her visage. She had heard his previous statement regarding what incentives she had in mind for him. Her initial response indicated that the troubled femme was not willing to tell him just yet. But a tease, well, that was another story. Tracer stopped his movements so that she could lean in and plant a delicate kiss on his cheek plate. Once she was done, the femme pulled away and allowed her naughty smile to fade into a more sensitive one.

“Oh....I liked that a lot,” Smokescreen admitted with a warm smile of his own. “And I look forward to....a lot more than that. Heh.” The rallybot chuckled under his breath as he began walking forward again. Feeling as though his strength was slowly beginning to return, Smokey attempted to take slightly larger steps but almost lost his balance in the process. Thankfully, he managed to reach out with his free hand and grasp a hold of a nearby stool. Between that and holding on to Tracer, the diversion expert kept himself from falling to the floor. “Well, that was close. Guess maybe...I should slow down some, huh?”

With his balance restored, Smokescreen let go of the stool and was about to continue his walking exercises when he suddenly paused for a moment and cast a serious look over at Tracer. He leaned in close to her, but it was not to give her a reciprocated kiss. There was something very important he needed to ask her, something he had only just remembered. “Tracer, did Wheeljack....get the other vile of Syk out of my....leg compartment?” Smokey whispered his question so that Axle would not hear him. “I took it off of...Oil Slick back on Earth. Where is it now? It wasn’t destroyed....with my old body...was it?”

Wheeljack’s Lab

From his relaxing position next to the door Axle watched closely while Tracer helped Smokescreen move carefully around the lab. They circled around slowly in order to keep the diversion expert as balanced as possible. Having him take a fall now would cause serious damage, damage Axle would not be happy to repair especially with his own wounds ailing him.

A small smile crossed his lips as he noticed both the mech and femme stop for a moment giving Tracer the chance to provide his patient with what looked to be a small incentive. The field medic shook his head and crossed his arms over his chestplate. From his vantage point the mech enjoyed the femme’s little gift…who wouldn't?

He pushed off the wall when saw Smokescreen take a miss step and grab hold of a stool and grip Tracer a bit tighter. From his vantage point it looked as though Tracer had everything under control as the diversion expert regained his balance and the femme led him on.
____

After pulling back from her kiss she flashed Smokescreen a broad smile after he commented that he enjoyed the gesture quite a bit. She didn’t want to linger too long in a stationary position so she stayed quite, but only until he mentioned that he was looking forward to a lot more. Tracer cast him a playful smirk before moving him along.

“There’ll be more, don’t you worry about that. But I’m saving the best for when we’re done.”

Tracer let out a low chuckle as they rounded the lab for a third time, but now the rallybot was taking larger steps…something Tracer hadn’t realized until he nearly took a tumble. She let out startled gasp when she felt Smokescreen lose his balance and, thankfully, grab a hold of a nearby stool to regain his footing. Instinctively Tracer gripped around the red and blue mech’s waist tighter than before.

“Yeah. Smaller steps would be for the best.”

She flashed him an uneasy smile while he steadied himself and let go of the stool. At the same time Tracer readjusted her grip and made to take her next step when Smokescreen paused and looked over to her with a serious expression. At first Tracer believed that he actually did hurt himself but when she heard the concern in his voice as he spoke her name Tracer focused all her attention on him.

“He did. He has it on his workbench.”

She placed her hand gently on his cheek and flashed him a pain- filled expression.

“I know you took it from Oil Slick. And don’t worry I had to tell Axle everything as well. He wanted no part in any of it unless he knew how and why you were hurt.”

She kept her hand on his cheek as she looked to the floor.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to involve anyone other than Wheeljack, but even that was unfair. And now…now Axle’s involved. This is getting out of hand. I’m beginning to wonder if any of it is worth it…or me for that matter.”

Science Lab

Magnus mused quietly to himself at the sense of ease that washed over his optical sensors as he stepped off the docking boom linking the Ark 22 to the smaller and decidedly more cramped frigate, Guardian. His former and now current seat of command, he shook his head, he could not limit himself to the command of a single starship, Even still Ultra Magnus had once claimed the bridge of this magnificent vessel as his very own fiefdom. As the large blue and white officer navigated the halls as if by instinct and a hidden memory from years of habitation of this vessel, regardless of the fact that most of the Ark Class vessels were of similar make and construction, Ultra Magnus managed to meet and greet with several nondescript Autobot technicians, scientists and other soldiers and operators of the large city sized multipurpose star craft.

He took note of the general increase of morale as he advanced through the dimly lit halls. Spirited salutes were followed by murmurs as he returned respectful nods, the over all mood brightening as he walked. Perhaps Prowl was correct in his initial observation, Ultra Magnus rejected the notion outright. They were being respectful because of his rank. The fact he had assumed command was still not widely known across the small group of Autobots within the sector. As so far as it stood, most of them believed Prowl was still in command and either Springer or Grimlock was his executive.

Turning the bend Magnus approached a large red painted door trimmed in white emblazoned with a large Autobot Science Academy Insignia on its face. He stopped half way between the turn and the door leading to the inter sanctum of the sciences. His mind darted from the thought of breaking the news of transfer of command to the actual notion of how to deal with Grimlock and his actions. Ratchet's words still echoed in his processors as he attempted to shake them to the back of his thought matrix. The loss of Optimus had a detrimental effect on everyone. He, himself, had borne a large impact at the news when he had received Prowl's communique that lead to his current assignment. Ratchet was handling it as he always had, accepting the loss yet not demonstrating those emotional burdens, burying it deeper and deeper inside. Prowl, Magnus assumed Prowl allowed it to build to the point where such burdens began to seep into his judgement processors. At least in this coming mission Prowl would be tempered by Silverbolt should things go awry.

Magnus reached the large red door and pressed the access panel. It slid open quietly to reveal a small laboratory filled with various gauges, scanners and other replication devices that lined the farthest walls. The illumination strips were dimmed to conserve power as the hidden scientist and metallurgist was about doing his important research. "Perceptor?" Ultra Magnus called out as he stepped further in, the door hissing to a close behind him. "Are you here Perceptor?"

Wheeljack’s Lab

Smokescreen glanced over to the workbench where he could see the vile of Syk sitting there amongst Wheeljack’s tools and other equipment. The rallybot hadn’t noticed it before until Tracer had pointed it out to him, but then again his optical vision was just now returning to within normal working parameters. “Thank Primus,” Smokey whispered, knowing that all had not been in vain. “I was hoping to get more off of Oil Slick, but...that’s all he had. It’ll have to do, I guess. Better than nothing.”

The diversion expert returned his attention to Tracer, a smile never leaving his faceplate. “It’s fine that Axle knows. You did what you had to...to save me.” Smokescreen replied as the troubled femme wondered if it had all been worth it, if she had been worth all of the problems her addiction had inadvertently caused. The unpainted mech let out a low sigh as he lifted his free hand to Tracer’s chin, raising her head up so that he could look into her optics once more. “Of course, you’re worth it! Don’t ever think...not for an astrosec...that you’re not. All the pain...the lies...the risk...I’d go through it again in a spark pulse...if it meant helping you beat this thing.”

Smokescreen then leaned in again and pressed his lips against her chevron for several astroseconds before pulling back, his pristine blue optics gazing into her own. “Now, let’s get me over to that....workbench, okay?” The rallybot suggested, wanting to get a closer look at the vile of Syk he had stolen from the Decepticon chemist. He took another step forward, going slower this time to avoid any unnecessary tumbles. It would serve him no good if he rushed and fell, damaging his new, but still frail body. He would regain his strength in time, but for now he needed to take it easy and simply follow his doctor’s orders. Unfortunately, time was not necessarily on his side as Tracer’s Syk dependency would eventually become a problem again. At the moment she was fine, but that would not last forever and Smokey needed to be in tip top shape for when she would require his help once again.

As he moved across the lab towards the workbench that was now only a short distance away, Smokescreen tried to think of something more positive, allowing his processor to wander back to what Tracer had said in regards to saving the best for last. A chuckle escaped from the rallybot’s vocalizer as a sly grin spread across his visage. “You know, Trace...I can’t wait to see what your best is. Of course....feel free to show me now...if you don’t want to keep me in suspense.”
_________

It had been several breems since Wheeljack left his lab to go speak with Prowl regarding what had happened to Smokescreen. Of course, it was all a lie, one that the military strategist seemed to believe if not with a hint of anger and disappointment in his responses to the mechanical engineer. Luckily, the black and white had been in a rush. Otherwise, he may have pressed ‘Jack further regarding those made up events. As it were, Prowl accepted the report and dismissed the scientist with little more than a stern reprimand for not following protocol. At least, Red Alert was not present for the meeting. Then things wouldn’t have gone as well as they did.

Heck, if Red had been there I’d still be answering questions, Wheeljack thought as he approached the entrance to his lab and entered the access code. Once the doors had parted, the engineer stepped inside and looked across the room to see Tracer helping Smokescreen take slow steps around the lab. It was good to see his friend up and about again, even if he was leaning on a femme to maintain his balance. Still, the rallybot had come a long way since he was nothing more than a melted mess on the scientist’s worktable.

Glancing over to his left, Wheeljack spotted Axle standing nearby, watching as his patient carried out the exercises he had instructed the rallybot to perform. Approaching the field medic, the mechanical engineer gave him a curt nod before telling him the good news. “Well, Axle, it looks like Prowl bought our Cosmic Rust story. He was less than thrilled that I waited so long to report everything to him, but I’m confident he believed what I told him nevertheless. I guess it helped that it was a plausible scenario, and that I’m highly trusted by just about everyone within the Autobot ranks. Of course, I won’t be anymore if the truth is ever discovered.”

Wheeljack looked back over his shoulder just in time to catch sight of Smokescreen giving Tracer a kiss on her chevron. The scientist shook his head before returning his attention to Axle. “Looks like Smokey is doing pretty good over there, heh, in more ways than just his rehabilitation.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer relaxed but only slightly when Smokescreen had no qualms about Axle getting involved in their tangles web of lies and deceit. It was an act that the femme found morally ambiguous. After all she lied to the one mech who she trusted the most and found it to be…easy. Something even now she could not understand. Tracer gave him an uneasy smile before he responded to her doubts of their entire endeavor being worth the trouble or whether she was.

As always Smokescreen was honest to a fault. Reminding the femme that he would do anything for her in order to help her. The uneasy smile that she had been sporting before melted away and was replaced by a warm and grateful smile.

The scout lowered her head slightly and off-lined her optics as Smokescreen leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss against her chevron. The loving gesture lasted for several seconds before the rallybot pulled away to gaze back into her optics. Without looking away Tracer sent him another smile before he asked her to take him to Wheeljack’s workbench where the vial of Syk was perched. The blue and white femme looked to the work station and back to the unpainted mech.

“Okay. But I’d rather you keep up with your walking.”

Even after voicing her opinion racer still led him over to his intended location. No matter how long she tried to put it off he would find a way to keep things moving forward. The trek was slow going but as long as Smokescreen remained on his feet and was balanced enough she didn’t care how long it took.

After a few moments of silence a light chuckle drew her attention to Smokescreen who had a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Tracer furrowed her brow and flashed him a quizzical expression. She cocked her head to the side when he started to tell her just what was on his mind. The mech’s statement elicited a chuckle from the femme. As she quieted down she gave the diversion expert an alluring smile before stopping their advance once more. Leaning in close Tracer whispered lowly into his audio receptor.

“I have been holding this back for far too long.”

She backed away slightly and took a quick look over her shoulder at Wheeljack, who was blocking her view of Axle. Once their positions were noted Tracer cupped the sides of Smokescreen’s faceplate and gently pressed her lips to his.

Tracer pulled away slowly…reluctantly. She lowered her hands from his face but she kept her optics locked with his. A very small smile edged its way onto her face while she pressed her forehead to his.

“I really should have done that the first time we met.”

----

From Axle’s locale he was able to watch every step his patient and his femme were making. It was times like these that the field medic could actually give all of his patients one on one care. It was the best way to ensure that they were doing everything in their power to follow doctor’s orders. As it was he needed to be responsible for one mech right now. In the coming future he would have to face Prowl who would no doubt question him on just what happened to Smokescreen. Perhaps the tactician’s exam would entail a vocalizer check requiring the medic to shut the mech up for the entire examination.

The thought brought a brief smile to his face before it vanished in the blink of an optic when Wheeljack arrived and took a place directly in front of Axle. The field medic turned his attention to the engineer as he knew Tracer would take good care of Smokescreen for the few moments he had to speak with Wheeljack.

“Well, that’s no real surprise. Prowl is never happy to hear anything that he’s had no dealings with. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I still have an exam to perform on him so there’s a good chance the subject will come up again.”

Axle brought a hand up to his abdomen and gently applied some pressure while turning his head to hide the pained grimace. As the wave of discomfort subsided the larger mech turned his full attention back to the white mech.

“I’m gonna try to keep him too busy with tests that way he won’t be able to focus on the story you fed to him. And if worse comes to worse I’ll put him out. Unfortunately it would only be temporary.”

Axle chuckled and shook his head slightly before he calmed down and peeked over at both Tracer and Smokescreen. The field medic caught the end of the rallybot’s affectionate gesture. Following behind Wheeljack, Axle let out a sigh and gave a gentle shake of his head.

“He’ll be just fine if he does more walking and less of his lovelorn pauses.”

Axle kept his voice down so as not to disturb both Autobots knowing that even if he did they’d simply ignore what he had to say. The field medic looked back to Wheeljack giving the engineer a worried expression.

“Tracer said this whole ordeal was over Syk …that Smokescreen was nearly killed over one vial. Did he even get it? And if he did…I take it he’s gonna want to reverse engineer it. Has he brought that up to you yet?”

Science Lab

For what seemed like vons…or perhaps it had been vorns, Perceptor had not taken the time to even check his chronometer so actual time within the lab stood deathly still…the scientist, what was left of it, was hard at work studying and testing the small sample of ore he found at the former site of the Decepticon base on Earth.

The ore was really quite fascinating. In all of his tests and exams it proved to be highly potent and it seemed to be capable of providing power to a number of devices…and to Perceptor’s surprise that power was enhanced.

He surmised that this one chunk of ore was one a tiny portion that had been available to the Decepticons. And he had a very good idea of how it got to Earth.

Perceptor was deep in his work when he heard the door to the lab slide open. The scientist laid his tool and scanner down while his sniper instinct kicked in. Carefully the red mech slunk past a series of cabinets and drew both of his side arms from his hip holsters. There had been a voice at the far end of the lab but being on high alert the sniper was unwilling to process the ID.

Perceptor rounded one last row of shelves and appeared behind the mech…both weapons aimed perfectly at the head of the hulking form of Ultra Magnus.

“I should have locked the door and activated the communications system.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Smokescreen offered absolutely no resistance when Tracer cupped the sides of his faceplate and planted a passionate kiss onto his newly fabricated lips. It was a sensation he had not felt since the time before the war when he frequented the Iaconian casinos where his penchant for winning, and cheating, often drew the attention of many a femme. Some would say he was a real lady’s bot back then, but Smokey never let things progress too far with any of them. At least, that is, until a certain troubled femme had crossed paths with him. From the moment he saw Tracer, the rallybot knew that she was different. He just could never have guessed just how different she really was.

“Yes...you should have,” Smokescreen agreed once she had pulled back and pressed her chevron against his own. “If you had I probably would have let you keep those chips you tried to steal from me. Heh.” The diversion expert smiled as he allowed space to form between their foreheads. He needed to keep moving if he was to get better sooner rather than later. “Let’s get me over to that workbench then....another lap around the room. Okay?”

Turning his head back to focus on his destination, the unpainted mech took several more slow steps forward, keeping his optics on the prize he had risked everything for. The vile of Syk was right there only a few feet away. Finally, once he had arrived at the table, Smokey reached down and picked it up in his left hand while his right arm remained around Tracer’s shoulders. He brought the vile up to optics level and studied it for a moment, letting out a low sigh. “So much trouble caused by something so small...and seemingly insignificant,” the tactician commented, not really expecting an answer. “You know, Trace, I do have a plan.” He glanced over to her as she continued to help support his weight. “To get you off this slag. I just hope that Wheeljack is willing...to help me yet again. He’s already done...so much. He may not want....to do anymore.”
_________

Wheeljack nodded as Axle mentioned the tests he still needed to perform on Prowl and how he would try to keep him as occupied as possible so the falsehood they had concocted did not come up. The idea of sedating the military strategist made ‘Jack chuckled slightly, but he was still concerned that Prowl would become suspicious if the field medic tried to deflect the black and white’s possible queries too much. “Personally, I think it would be best to just answer whatever he asks you, Axle,” the scientist suggested as he rubbed his chin guard. “I mean, you know how tenacious Prowl can be. He could become distrustful if you come across as dodging his questions. And knocking him out, as much fun as that would be, will only delay the inevitable, I’m afraid.”

Their conversation then turned to the Syk that Smokescreen had risked his spark for and the possibility that the rallybot may ask Wheeljack to help him backwards engineer the chemical. “Well, I did find a vile of what I assume is Syk in a leg compartment of Smokey’s old body. I placed it on a workbench over there,” the mad scientist answered as he glanced over his shoulder and pointed to where the rallybot had already picked up the vile in question. “As for making more, he hasn’t said anything to me about it. I’m not sure what I can do. After all, I’m no chemist. I’m just a scientist and inventor. This is not to mention the legality of doing such a thing considering I’ve already broken too many regulations and protocols to count.”

Wheeljack let out a heavy sigh as he turned his attention back to Axle. “Still, something has to be done about Tracer’s addiction. That one vile won’t last forever and then she’ll need more or suffer from intense withdrawals. If that happens and her problem is discovered by Prowl, a lot more questions will follow that could ultimately lead back to the truth of what really happened here. I may have no other choice but to help them if we are to keep this lie going. It is what it is, I guess.” The mechanical engineer shook his head at the realization that he would likely have to continue down this dishonest road they were all on. It was something he wasn’t looking forward to, but there may be no other way. Otherwise, they could all end up locked away in Garrus-9 for a very long time.

“You know, Axle, you should probably head back to the Guardian. Last time I saw Prowl, he was about to head down to the infirmary for those tests, and he’s likely there by now. Don't worry, I’ve got things under control here. I’ll keep Smokey moving around and give him a push when he tries to stop for another one of Tracer's little incentives. As you said, more walking, less smooching. Heh.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer flashed Smokescreen a tentative smile at his remark concerning her being more forward during their first meeting. She had to admit she thoroughly regretted not taking a chance back then. But now is all that mattered now.

The femme gave the diversionary expert a slight nod before guiding him slowly, and gently toward the workbench where the vial of Syk was perched. The closer they got the more hesitant the scout was to, not only approach but to converse about anything concerning the narcotic.

Once they had reached the workbench Tracer’s processor went to work trying to figure out a way, anyway, to put off explaining anymore about her. The femme’s attention was brought back to the unpainted mech when he spoke of just how the little flask holding the chemical had already caused so much trouble and had nearly cost Smokescreen his life and Tracer the mech she had become so close to.

“To anyone but me it would seem insignificant.”

Her voice was kept low knowing Smokescreen’s comment was never meant to be answered. It was the sound of his voice speaking her name that had her look over in his direction. She remained quiet as he explained just what he wished to do once he was ready to speak with Wheeljack.

Tracer was hesitant to respond; instead her brow furrowed and she lowered her gaze to the vial clutched firmly in the diversion expert’s hand. After a few minutes she placed her free hand over the hand Smokescreen was using to hold the flask.

“Smokescreen, asking him to do more than he already has…to put him in a position that could possibly land him in a penitentiary or worse…we can’t do that. I can’t do that.”

The blue and white scout looked from the vial then to the mech she was supporting at her side.

“He’s not a chemist, and there aren’t any onboard either of the ships. Tell me..tell me you can ask him to do something that can’t be done.”

Her optics bore into his but they lacked their former fire. She already knew that without a chemist, replicating the Syk would be nigh impossible. Tracer forced a smile as she removed her hand from his and proceeded to help Smokescreen once more around the lab. Carefully the scout steadied the unpainted mech’s balance as she looked on in Wheeljack’s direction…the usual deep blue of her optics brightening to a near white hue…a common side effect of the drug that was running through her systems.
____

“Heh. I suppose you’re right. I know I don't want our beloved tactician to catch on to anything that’s transpired. Needless to say I’ll try to make the exam go as quickly as possible.”

Axle took a look over the engineer’s shoulder as he mentioned the vial that he had removed from the leg compartment on Smokescreen’s now discarded body. The diversion expert had not approached Wheeljack about creating more of the narcotic, but he was anticipating the move.

“I know. He’ll never let it go…strike that…he’ll never let her go.”

Axle let out a heavy sigh as he looked back to the scientist poised before him. The medic pursed his lips into a tight line before taking one more look over ‘Jack’s shoulder. His head cocked to one side as he watched both the mech and femme resume their walking. After a quick moment of observation Axle placed a hand on Wheeljack’s upper arm and moved to turn him around.

“Side effects are exhibiting.”

The field medic kept his optics locked on the two Autobots while he reached into his leg compartment and pulled out a scanner. He raised the device to optic level so the white mech could see.

“Take this. I want scans of her every fifteen minutes. Relay the information back to me over my private comm line.”

Axle pressed the scanner into Wheeljack’s hand and looked the engineer in the optics.

“I have some basic knowledge of chemistry. I’ll come back and give you a hand just as soon as I take care of that other business. Do what you can to get started.”

With a firm squeeze of the engineer’s upper arm Axle gave a curt nod and left the scientist’s lab. He’d have to hurry of he wanted to get back on the Guardian before he received the comm from Ratchet.

Wheeljack’s Lab

“I know he’s not a chemist,” Smokescreen responded to Tracer as more strength finally returned to his vocalizer and he began moving around the lab once more. “But he’s one pit of a scientist and an inventor. I’m sure he’s got something around here that can synthesize the Syk in this vile. And if not...I’m positive he could build a machine if I asked him to.” The rallybot looked away from the vile and over at the troubled femme who remained steadfast by his side. He gave her a reassuring smile as he stopped and withdrew his right arm that had been draped over her shoulders, managing to stand precariously on his own. “See? Anything is possible. After what happened to me, you’d think I’d be one with the Allspark right now, but yet....here I am alive and almost well.”

Smokescreen cast his gaze back at the vile before creating a fist around it like a protective shell and allowing his left arm to drop down to his side. “We need to keep this safe and....not laying out in the open.” The unpainted mech regarded Tracer again with a serious look. “And I’ll ask whomever I need to in order to help you, Trace....whether that be Wheeljack or Primus, himself. It doesn’t matter. What matters is you getting better and never...ever...having to see that ‘Con again.” The diversion expert took hold of her left hand within his right and flashed her another warm smile. “Perhaps it’s time I tried walking more under my own power and less...under yours.”
_________

Wheeljack nodded as Axle agreed not to doing anything too rash in regards to Prowl or any questions the prick-bot may ask regarding recent events. It was best to simply play things straight to avoid any unwanted suspicions cast in their direction. The scientist simply chuckled at the field medic’s next comment that Smokey would never let the drug-addicted femme go. “I think that goes without saying, Axle. He risked everything for her. Smokey will fight for her until his spark is extinguished for good, I’m afraid.”

The mechanical engineer than felt the tug of Axle’s grip on his upper arm as the medic turned him around to witness for himself the side effects that were already manifesting from Tracer’s optics. “I see it. Her optics are glowing much brighter than normal.” Looking down, the scientist took hold of the scanning device that Axle had just produced from a leg compartment and listened to the field medic’s instructions. “No problem, Axle. Hopefully, she won’t give me too much trouble. At least I have Smokey to back me up.”

The revelation that Axle had a basic knowledge of chemistry did not surprise Wheeljack as a field medic would need some experience with such substances in order to tend to those in battle that had been exposed to chemical weapons. It would be something that would come in handy in this particular situation if the need arose. However, ‘Jack was certain that he could find a way to replicate the Syk quickly and efficiently without having to drag Axle even deeper into this mess. Of course, Smokescreen hadn’t even asked him to do anything yet and here the engineer was already contemplating how he would accomplish the task.

Once Axle had left to administer the aforementioned tests on Prowl, Wheeljack turned and walked over to where Tracer and Smokescreen were standing, the scanner in hand. The scientist wasn’t sure just yet how he was going to broach the subject with them, but now was not the time to delay things as her symptoms would only get worse. “Well, you two are looking pretty cozy. Heh. And I’m glad to see you standing on your own, Smokey. Just don’t go thinking you’re ready to run a mile just yet. You’ve still got a long way to go before you’re completely healed.”

Smokescreen chuckled as he looked over at his friend with a grin on his new faceplate. “I’ll try not to ‘Jack. By the way, what alt mode did you pick for me? This isn’t the same one...as before...is it?”

“Ha! No, it’s not the same. I took the liberty of upgrading you to something a little more modern, at least by Earth standards anyway. The database refers to it as a Subaru BRZ. It’s brand new and looks pretty slick in my opinion. Once you’re all painted up again, you’ll be the sharpest looking ‘Bot in this sector.”

“Yeah, well, when can I get my paint job back? I’m still feeling a little...naked here.”

“Soon, but first I need to conduct some tests...” Wheeljack paused for a moment as his attention switched from the rallybot over to Tracer. “...on you. I’m sorry, Axle wants me to run a complete scan on your processor. He’s very concerned about the effects that the Syk is having on you and the possible long-term damage it may already have caused. I know you may find this intrusive, but it is necessary, especially considering all of the trouble Smokey has gone through to help you beat your addiction. This is simply the next step.”

Smokescreen was more than a bit surprised by the mechanical engineer's sudden request. “Don’t you think that’s taking things to...the extreme, ‘Jack?” The rallybot asked as he then finally noticed the increasingly brilliant glow of Tracer’s optics, which appeared much more white now than their usual blue color. How did I not see that before? Smokey thought, kicking himself for not immediately seeing what was right in front of him. He knew that the intense glow was a side effect of the drug, but somehow he had missed it, likely because he was still adjusting to his own, newly fabricated optics.

“Um, maybe Wheeljack has a point, Trace," Smokescreen suggested as he quickly changed his tune regarding the scans. "I mean, your optics...they’re getting so bright they seem to be burning your sockets a little. Perhaps a scan would be beneficial...so that we can better help you in the long run.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer kept a light hold on Smokescreen’s waist while the diversion expert responded to her concerns about Wheeljack and the engineer’s capability to replicate the narcotic. She knew ‘Jack was able to perform miracles but something like this…something that has nothing to do with his field of expertise…it had the potential to blow up in their faces…figuratively and literally.

The blue and white femme let out a low sigh as she cast her gaze over to Smokescreen who was still holding the vial securely in his hand.

Tracer moved her focus from the mech that had risked his life to save her from herself to the vial that caused all of her problems.

In the brief moments she focused on the container she recalled her life before she met Oil Slick…before the addiction. The time she spent to find a way…any way…to become like everyone else…to be normal. It was during the hard times that she remembered those times, but now she realized that it was getting harder and harder to remember everything.

She pressed her lips into a tight thin line as she brought one particular memory to the forefront of her processor. It was before the Syk…before the attempts to find help. Unable to get up…nearly paralyzed by the depression. Unable to function like everyone else. There was nothing…there was no one…she was trapped in a body and cursed with deteriorating mental functions.

Tracer shook her head slightly but looked back at the vial. If she stopped using she’d revert back to that shell. She would be trapped within her own body…within her own dysfunction. That is what scared the hell out of her. But how could she say no to the help Smokescreen was so willing to give. After all he had always been there for her. He had taken care of her when times were hard. And in all that time he had never asked for anything in return. He was willing to give his life so she could have hers back.

She had been and still was grateful for everything, and yet she lied to him. She didn’t have enough courage to confide in him with what had been happening…and even now she still held secrets.

Tracer let out a low groan but quickly stifled it and looked back to Smokescreen. After his speech how could she say no?

“You know what…I really believe you would seek Primus out and ask for His help. You’ve always been tenacious. And hardheaded.”

The femme let out a chuckle and shook her head gently. Her smile remained even when he mentioned that it was time for him to walk on his own. She was a bit apprehensive but he needed to get a feel for his new body. And besides he would still be following doctor’s orders.

Tracer gave him a nod and let go of his waist giving him the freedom he needed to start his exercise. Of course she had no intention of leaving his side even while he was moving around on his own. The last thing she wanted was for him to injure himself.

They were making good time and Smokescreen was moving quite smoothly when Tracer paused but she quickly recovered and quickened her pace so she was at the rallybot’s right side. A smile returned to her face as she watched his movements closely only to pause again…this time she raised her right hand to the side of her head and gently rubbed.

The dull pain that had been working its way through her cranium was just now intensifying. She had no reason to mention it to anyone before since she had no desire to distract Wheeljack or Axle from their work on Smokescreen and the lengthy recharge she had taken seemed to have worked, but now…

Tracer stopped next to the recovering mech when she heard the engineer start up a conversation. The scout paid little attention to their talk until Wheeljack had mentioned that he needed to perform some tests. Tracer grew nervous hoping there was nothing wrong since Smokey had been making very good progress. However the femme took a slight step back when ‘Jack look to her and revealed that the tests were for her own benefit.

She took another step back to put some more distance between them and shook her head. They had done processor scans and they said they could help. That hope was what motivated her. It was what made her put her trust in them.

“No.” Her answer was voiced so low it nearly came out as a whisper.

Her optics went directly to the scanner held in Wheeljack’s hand before moving them up to look into the engineer’s face. She narrowed her optics and was prepared to fight him off when Smokescreen mentioned something concerning her eyes.

“What?” She hadn’t noticed it before it was mentioned that her optics were glowing brighter and that they seemed to be burning the sockets. Tracer brought her hands up to her eyes and pressed them gently against her visual receptors. She quickly pulled them away as she felt the increase of their temperature.

“Alright. You can go ahead and do the test just…please, nothing invasive. It’s just...do it.”

The scout lowered her head and moved to the makeshift medical slab and hopped up on its side. Once she was settled Tracer cast both mechs a somber expression. This could only turn out bad.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack sighed when Tracer at first refused to willingly go along with the scans. The scientist had no desire to force her as he believed that any mech could only be helped if they wanted it. Forcing a medical procedure on someone was not the Autobot way. Of course, her uncooperative stance posed all kinds of long term issues not just for her but for everyone around her, as well. Thankfully, as ‘Jack had hoped, Smokescreen made his opinion known and supported the scans once he saw just how the drug had already affected her optics.

Reluctantly, the troubled femme agreed and walked over to a the makeshift med berth, hopping up on to it. She begged for the scans not to be invasive and to just get it over with. “Of course, Tracer. This shouldn’t take too long. You won’t feel a thing, “Wheeljack promised as he glanced over to Smokescreen. “You going to be okay on your own for a while, Smokey?”

“I’ll be fine, ‘Jack,” the rallybot replied as he stood precariously nearby. “Just stay remain focused on her. She’s more important.”

Wheeljack nodded as he turned and approached the nervous femme sitting on the medical slab. The scientist retracted his face shield once again and offered Tracer a warm, and hopefully comforting smile. “This’ll be over before you know it. I promise.” The engineer then raised the small, portable scanner up and activated it with the touch of a button. The device hummed to life as a series of lights glowed across its surface. With a steady hand, Wheeljack slowly guided the scanner over her upper body, focusing mainly on Tracer’s cranial unit and upper torso region. He made several passes to ensure the quality of data that was received. He did not venture too deep into her sub-processor as it would likely elicit a painful response.

As Wheeljack performed the necessary scans, Smokescreen managed to hobble slowly over towards the med berth, stumbling a few times as he went. For all intents and purposes, the rallybot was doing rather well with no one holding his hand. He still had a long way to go before his balance was fully restored and even longer before he could transform again, but it was a pretty good start nevertheless.

Making it to the slab without falling, Smokescreen held on to the edge with his left hand while his right reached over and took hold of Tracer’s shaking actuators. He smiled at her, hoping that she would remain still and not turn her head to meet his stare. “It’s okay, Trace, I’m here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you while I’m around. Just remain calm and it will all be over soon,” the diversion expert promised as he tightened his grip on her hand while Wheeljack continued with the scans. “How much longer, ‘Jack?” The unpainted mech asked without taking his optics off of an increasingly anxious Tracer.

“I’m almost done, Smokey,” Wheeljack responded, making one more pass over the drug-addicted femme’s cranium. A few astroseconds went by before the scanner beeped twice, which signified that the procedure was finally at its conclusion. “There, I think I’ve got what I need. Just remain here, Tracer, while I contact Axle with the results.” The mechanical engineer then turned and moved away to a nearby workbench, all the while studying the results of the scan. Mmmm, interesting, Wheeljack thought as he subsequently opened a private comm line to the field medic:

>>”Axle, this is Wheeljack. I’ve completed the first series of scans on Tracer. I focused primarily on her upper torso and cranial regions as they would show the earliest effects of the Syk. I’m transmitting the results to you now. Needless to say, they are very concerning, especially the fact that her processor is showing degradation of about 13%, mainly in the right quadrant. Her optics are also beginning to malfunction and are burning brighter and hotter than normal, resulting in her sockets becoming somewhat scorched. I also detected some minimal damage to her vocalizer, but I feel that it the least of our concerns at this point. Please advise, should I administer additional scans like you previously wanted or wait for you to return? Even with Smokescreen’s help, it was very hard to convince her to sit down for this one session. I’m not sure I’ll be able to talk her into another set of scans right now.”<<

Science Lab

Ultra Magnus's optics narrowed briefly as he turned his head to peer down towards slightly smaller Autobot metallurgist. His face remained static and unreadable, no display of surprise or appreciation for the efforts of the war hardened scientist. Inwardly however, he was beginning to gather the pattern that many key sections of his command, medical, sciences and the like were increasingly becoming isolated. Everyone was shaken from Optimus's disappearance, and each were still adjusting. Even still, the hair trigger edge that the entire sector was sitting on did little to lead towards the productive. Magnus resolved to speak with some of the others in an effort to resolve these issues at a more opportune time.

As it stood however, The Autobot Commander, had a greater plate of objectives to accomplish. His visit with Ratchet had already got him thinking of an avenue of strategy he had not previously considered. Dealing with the morale was a small step, even the addition of new supplies tended to help bolster the positive attitude but even that could only go so far. What they needed was a demonstration of unity, direction and a reestablishment of what it meant to be an Autobot. Add to that the thoughts of how to deal with Grimlock's departure seemed to overshadow even the most basic plans. Best focus on what is in front of him now. "It is good to see you as well Perceptor. Though I did not expect you to be as excitable."

Magnus turned his full body now and stepped forward, his guns narrowing in on his chest plate. "Of course I did not come to exchange war stories regarding your new chosen profession. Long and short of it, Prime's disappeared here in the sector, I've been recalled to assume command. Now we are trying to develop a new foundation to counter Shockwave's motives here for this planet we now orbit. The End."

He shrugged briefly and shook his head, trying to hide the emotion behind the words he had just spoke, unsuccessfully. He didn't want the job, nor did he want to be the one to fill in for Optimus until a true successor was found. "Perceptor, I have been informed that you have obtained a sample and information regarding Shockwave's most recent discovery regarding a special ore. I need an update regarding that information as well as what other details you may have gleaned through your own analysis..."

Wheeljack’s Lab

As much as she didn’t want to, Tracer kept still and let the engineer take whatever scans he had to in order to fulfill curiosity. In all reality she felt as though she was back in that institute being poked and prodded by those damnable doctors…or those who passed for doctors….she was never sure.

It was about half a breem into the test when Tracer finally began to fidget…first with her hands and then by shifting slightly from side to side. It was taking too long and she was becoming impatient. She had no desire to have her entire past laid out for all to see. There were things that she just needed to keep in the past.

The touch of Smokescreen’s hand on hers caused her to flinch slightly as the gesture was not expected, but she quickly calmed and wove her fingers through his. Her optics, however, never left Wheeljack and the scanning device. The fear of him coming across something he shouldn’t burned deep into her jumbled processor causing her anxiety to increase. Although she remained silent externally, internally she let out a primal scream for the probing to stop.

Upon Wheeljack’s announcement that the tests were now completed Tracer let her shoulders slump slightly and her whole body relax. She watched for a moment as the engineer stepped away from the bench in order to contact Axle who had left several breems ago. Since the white mech was now otherwise occupied Tracer looked over to Smokescreen and gave him a small unsure smile.

“You’re doing really good…you know…getting around.”

The smile that had formed slowly faded and her face revealed a worried expression.

“Smokescreen, I’m scared. I’ve been scared before, but this time…it’s different.”

She wasn’t referring to being on Syk that she was very used to, she wasn’t even referring to weaning off the narcotic, what scared her most was having to explain her past to him. Revealing everything from even before they met. Everything that she had tried to forget.

“Promise me something. Promise me that no matter what the scans and tests show that you won’t walk away.”

Tracer gave Smokescreen’s hand a strong squeeze. Please, Primus don’t let them find out.

Communication from Axle to Wheeljack

>>”Okay, ‘Jack. I’m really not that surprised about the side effects manifesting as quickly as they are now, what I am concerned about is that 13% degradation. The right quadrant controls most of the speech, gesturing and organizational skills. Left side degradation would be rather significant had it been detected. However, even if the scans only showed the damage was centralized in the right quadrant it doesn’t mean there wasn’t damage in the left.”<<

There was a long pause before the field medic continued.

>>”Sorry for the delay, Wheeljack. Okay, I’m nearly done with Prowl’s check-up. I need another half breem and then I’ll need to speak with Ratchet. Give me approximately two breems and I’ll be at your door.”<<

Science Lab

Once Perceptor realized that the mech standing in his lab was no threat to him the sniper lowered his weapons and carefully re-holstered them on his hips. Without the usual pleasantries Perceptor stepped past Ultra Magnus and made his way back to the workbench he had been working at prior to the City Commander’s arrival.

“A pleasure as always, Commander.”

The red mech stopped and picked up one of the dozens of pads strewn across not only the bench but the nearby desk as well. Without so much as a backwards glance the scientist resume his work.

“Excitable? Hardly. Prepared would be the more accurate assumption. One can never be too careful when studying such a rare commodity.”

The curt announcement made by the Commander caught the sniper slightly off guard but it hardly showed in his demeanor or posture. Instead Perceptor continued with his work.

“I see. It was unfortunate that we lost Prime, but I am sure you will be more than capable of keeping things in order until his inevitable return. As for Shockwave…his motives stand to reason.”

With his back still facing Ultra Magnus Perceptor remained silent as he considered exactly what he should reveal to the faction’s new commanding officer.

“That information is correct, Commander. I have obtained a sample of the ore. Unfortunately, it will need to be refined through several methods before it may be utilized as a source of fuel. I lack the precise methods that Shockwave has used, or is using, in order to create a stabilized sample. However…”

Perceptor placed his datapad gently down on the bench and turned around to face the larger mech.

“I was able to refine one of the samples down to what I believe would be stable. I would like your permission to test it on a willing candidate.”

From his chair the scientist turned sniper stood and held his chin high. With any luck the new Commander would agree to Perceptor’s suggestion.

“Sir, I would like to be the volunteer to test the refined ore.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Once the cranial scan had been completed, Smokescreen could immediately tell that Tracer was more relaxed than during the procedure. She had likely endured such a scan in the past and it did not bring about the desired results she had been hoping for. He could understand her apprehension, but it was still an important test to conduct in order to see exactly what damage, if any, had been done to her processor. More importantly, could that damage be reversed or was it permanent? Those were questions needed answering if he was to successfully get her off of the Syk and make her feel normal all the time without the need for some Decepticon-made narcotic.

“There, that wasn’t so bad was it?” The diversion expert flashed Tracer an even broader smile as he held on to her hand tighter than before. Her initial response was to compliment him on the great improvements he had already made in getting around on his own. Smokey may not be the most physically strong of the Autobots, but he was not one to be underestimated, either. “I’m making do, I guess. Still got a long way to go, though.”

Smokescreen’s smile then faded as Tracer told him how scared she was. He placed an arm around her shoulder and leaned in closer to her as she made him promise not to walk away no matter what the results of the scans revealed. The rallybot was a bit taken aback by her sudden worries regarding his loyalty to her. It was as if there was something more that she was concerned about besides just the Syk, itself. Perhaps, even now, there was still something that she was not telling him.

“Trace, of course I won’t walk away,” Smokescreen assured her as he squeezed her hand in return of her own gesture, trying to get the troubled femme to look him in the optics again. “What are you so worried about? I mean, if your processor does show signs of damage, I’m sure that Wheeljack and Axle have a way to repair it. They built me a whole new body, after all. I’m sure they can at least fix your head.” The diversion expert forced a slight chuckle as he attempted to comfort her. “Unless there’s something else. Is there, Tracer?”
_________

Across the room, Wheeljack received the dual communications back from Axle, who was busy on the Guardian performing whatever procedures he needed to on Prowl. Maybe the field medic would do everybody a favor on both ships and upgrade the prick-bot’s personality chip to something more tolerable. It was unlikely, of course, but one could pray to Primus for the impossible. The mechanical engineer responded to the messages with a simple non-verbal acknowledgement before he turned his attention back to Smokescreen and Tracer.

“Well, Axle will be back with us in about two breems,” Wheeljack informed both of his comrades as he made his way over to the loving pair. “There won’t be any more scans right now, Tracer. The results were concerning, but I’m not a doctor so I really can’t give you a prognosis. Once Axle arrives and reviews the findings, he’ll be able to explain things better than I can.”

“Come on, ‘Jack,” Smokescreen spoke up, not wanting to wait for two breems to find out what the problem was, and clearly there was something wrong for the engineer to not simple give them the results. “What did that scans show? You don’t have to be a doctor to see if there was processor damage or not. Spill it!”

“I really shouldn’t it,” Wheeljack countered, not wanting to upset either one of them, especially not the drug-addled femme.

As a result of the scientist’s refusal, Smokescreen let go of Tracer’s hand and moved towards the engineer, stumbling a bit in the short distance between them. “Tell us, ‘Jack!” The rallybot’s tone was one of growing anger, having risked everything for Tracer only to be made to wait for an important piece of information now by one of his closest friends and allies. “It’s not fair to make her wait! You found something wrong, didn’t you?”

“Smokey, you need to calm down. You’re going to tear a fuel line or worse.”

“I’ll calm down when you tell us the results,” the diversion expert retorted, not backing down an inch.

“Fine,” Wheeljack finally conceded, realizing that there was no other way to calm his friend down so that all of the progress Smokey had made thus far was not entirely undone by his own emotions. “The scans showed some slight damage to Tracer’s processor along with some signs of decay in her vocalizer and around her optics.”

“How much damage to her processor exactly?” Smokescreen pressed further.

“About 13% degradation to the right quadrant,” the mechanical engineer revealed, not wanting to speculate further. “But, that’s it. There are other readings here, but I don’t know what they mean because I’m not a doctor. Now, please Smokey, I need you to relax before you hurt yourself.”

Smokescreen let out a sigh and backed away, allowing himself to calm back down to normal parameters. His internal fans had kicked in for a brief time but were now quiet once more. At least, they were functioning fine. “I’m sorry, ‘Jack,” the rallybot replied as he returned to Tracer’s side and gripped her hand again. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay, Smokey. You’ve been through a lot lately. Why don’t you sit down and take a short break before continuing with your exercises?” Wheeljack suggested with a smile on his unshielded faceplate.

Smokescreen simply nodded and managed to hop up onto the makeshift medical slab directly next to Tracer. He sat there and continued to hold her hand, all the while wondering just how much this entire experience had changed him. Or perhaps it hadn’t changed him so much as helped him revert back to the way he used to be long ago. The rallybot hadn’t exactly been the most savory of characters back before the war broke out. Lying, cheating, breaking the rules - those were the things Smokey had abandoned for the most part after he joined the Autobots. Those traits served him well in utilizing diversionary tactics. Now, they were helping him again for a very different reason. Maybe that darker side to him was beginning to come to the surface again or already had.

Maybe.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer’s body moved slightly as a shiver ran down her spinal column once the scan had finally been completed. It wasn’t invasive in the least but it was still too close for her comfort. The blue and white scout let out a low nervous chuckle before quieting down and turning her gaze away from Smokescreen and casting it to the floor. She was relieved when he told her that he would never walk away from here even if something unnerving was found in the examination.

It was his last query, however, that had her draw in a deep intake of air and hold it. There was something but there was no possible way she could explain it. She didn’t answer him right away; instead she slowly looked back up and locked optics with him. After a moment a small tentative smile crossed over her features, but it faltered causing her to break off her gaze before she finally answered.

“I’m sure Wheeljack and Axle can take care of things. I’m not really worried…not much at least.”

It was the best she could come up with without revealing what she truly felt and knew.
She could only hope that the scans had come up with nothing more than some preliminary readings.

“Thanks, Wheeljack.”

Tracer shook her head when the engineer had given his thoughts on just what the scanner’s results were. They weren’t promising but then again she had already known what kind of damage the narcotic had done and was still doing. The scout let out a sigh and tuned out the two mechs who were continuing their discussion about the readout.

She could hear Smokescreen demanding to know exactly what was found. Tracer could hear it taking place but it seemed that it didn’t register as her optics and her head never lifted to focus on the disgruntled rallybot and the engineer.

“13%. It doesn’t seem like such a large number.”

Tracer’s voice was low and seemed far away. It was hard to believe that something that could help her feel like everyone else was in essence slowly killing her. She let out another sigh and shook her head. She was prepared to say something more when Axle had entered the lab and stepped up beside Wheeljack.

“I apologize for showing up so late. Things got a bit hectic, but Prowl’s on his way and won’t be a problem for the time being.”

The field medic cast the engineer a curt nod and took a hold of the scanner he had given to Wheeljack. With a quick glance in Smokescreen and Tracer’s direction and a slight smile Axle looked down at the scanner. He let out a low grunt while his actuators danced over the screen bringing up all the information he needed in order to determine his next course of action. And from the looks of the results a deep processor scan would be needed.

Axle quickly pocketed the smaller scanner and removed the device he had used on Prowl earlier during the tactician’s check-up. He made sure not to reveal the device as the look of it would disturb all but the most battle hardened warriors.

“Okay, Tracer. I’m sure that Wheeljack has told you that there is 13% damage in the right quadrant of your processor. But there were some other results; unfortunately I’ll need to take a quick look in order to determine just what those results consist of.”

That said Axle worked his way around the workbench where she and Smokescreen were seated and stopped when he was standing behind the scout.

With his hand on the back of her head Axle gently pushed until her chin was resting on her chest. She complied with no hesitation and no complaint. He then quickly located the port that he would need to connect the device’s wire up with it.

“Now hold still this won’t take long.”

Tracer let out a quivering sigh as she asked the field medic the one thing that was on her mind.

“Will it hur…..aghhhhhhhhh!”

The connection was made before her question could even be completed. Axle shook his head and placed his free hand against her back pressing her forward in order to keep her from leaning back and raising her head.

“Yes. It’s gonna hurt like the pit.”

Her cries died down as the device began to work through her processor taking readings and copying files. The pain remained causing her to pull in a series of deep and heavy intakes trying hard not to let out another pain filled cry.

“Hang on hon, it’s almost over.”

Finally, after what seemed like vorns Axle disconnected the wire and stepped back away from the workbench where he walked around and stopped right next to Wheeljack. Like before the medic’s actuators flew over the keys and tallied up the results of all of the readings gathered.

At the same time Tracer lifted her head and gave out a low tired groan. Her hand moved to her head giving it a gentle rub as she watched Axle run through all of the readings. It was when a quizzical expression formed on his face that she began to panic.

“I just performed a deep processor scan so that I could determine what else was found on the base scan. According to these readings you actually have 15% degradation of your processor.”

Axle stepped away from the engineer and approached Tracer still seated on the workbench beside Smokescreen.

“The 13% found earlier was located only in the right quadrant. The other 2% is in the left quadrant. Now, Syk only affects the right…13%. Left…2%...that’s trauma. Tracer, what happened? What caused this damage?”

Tracer stared at the medic long and hard before she slid off the bench, releasing Smokescreen’s hand in the process. She paced for several moments before she finally stopped and looked at the three mechs.

“It was nothing.”

The concerned look on Axle’s face dropped and he stalked forward causing the femme to take a quick step away.

“Don’t lie to me! I want a straight answer! Now, what the hell happened?!”

She cast each person in the lab an apologetic look before hugging herself around the waist. The scout averted her eyes and gave them what they wanted to hear.

“ECT.”

The deep furrow in Axle’s brow vanished as his optics widened and his posture straightened. He stared at the femme for a long moment before he reigned in his emotions.

“How often?”

“Four times a day.”

How many days?”

She tightened her arms frightened of what they all might think of her.

“Every day for 13 vorns.”

Axle ran his right hand down the length of his face and let out a groan.

“Rodion?”

“Yes.”

It was all he needed to know. He turned back around and took hold of Wheeljack’s arm tugging the scientist along with him to a more private location.

“We need to talk."

While Axle and Wheeljack retreated to a corner of the lab Tracer lowered her arms and let her shoulders slump in defeat. She had tried for so long to keep her past in the past, but in just a matter of a few cycles everything had fallen apart.

“I was going to tell you…it’s just…I’m sorry, Smokescreen.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

“It’s large enough,” Wheeljack replied to Tracer’s comment regarding the 13% processor degradation as he shifted his optics from Smokescreen over to the troubled femme. “And that’s not including the optical and vocal damage, but that’s not as grave a concern to me right now.” Before the mechanical engineer could say any more, the doors slid open behind him and Axle entered the room, apologizing for being late in his return from the Guardian. “No worries, Axle. Glad to hear that Prowl won’t be a problem. Here’s the scanner and the data therein,” the scientist said as he handed the device over to the field medic and watched as the former doctor studied the results before going to work on performing a more in depth scan of Tracer’s processor.

The pain she experienced during the procedure seemed to be excruciating, but thankfully Smokescreen was right beside the drug addled femme, holding her hand the entire time and hoping that it would be enough to comfort her. “You can do it, Trace. Like he said, it’s almost over,” the rallybot whispered to her in a soothing tone. Smokey did not like seeing Tracer in so much pain. In fact, he hated it. However, the troubled femme had been in pain for most of her existence due to her condition and addiction. So, what was a little more at this point? At least, now she would receive the help that she desperately needed in order to stop her suffering forever.

Once the second procedure was over, Axle moved away which allowed Smokescreen to place his other arm around Tracer’s shoulders to provide additional comfort to her. “You did good, kid,” the diversion expert said, smiling at the clearly exhausted femme as the discomfort she felt began to subside. The unpainted mech kept his optics on her visage until his attention was drawn away by Axle’s approach and explanation of the newest set of test results. Unlike Wheeljack, the field medic was more than forthcoming with his findings, but they were not what Smokey had expected to hear. Not at all.

Apparently, there was an additional 2% damage located in the left quadrant of her processor, damage that was clearly trauma and not caused by exposure to the Syk. Smokescreen listened intently as Axle asked Tracer about what had happened to her that would’ve caused such harm. Initially, she didn’t respond and simply released the rallybot’s hand before sliding off the workbench and pacing back and forth in front of them. The lying femme then tried to evade the subject all together, but the field medic did not accept that and pushed harder, demanding that she tell him the truth immediately. When she finally relented, the diversionary tactician was shocked by what she divulged. Even Wheeljack appeared stunned by the revelation before being quickly pulled away into a far corner of the room by an agitated field medic.

“I can’t believe it. You were subjected to ECT?” Smokescreen asked as he cast a stern glare directly at the blue and white femme. The rallybot knew that ECT involved jolting a processor with electrical currents in the hopes of curing whatever was emotionally wrong with a patient. It was an archaic method by modern standards, but one that had been widely used in the past as an acceptable procedure if not a torturous one. Unfortunately, it would also likely complicate things gravely during the recovery process of someone addicted to a narcotic like Syk.

“So, you were going to tell me, huh? When exactly, before or after your processor was completely fried?!” The diversion expert questioned Tracer further, raising his vocalizer in the process as he got down off the makeshift med berth and hobbled precariously towards her. “Did you think I wouldn’t understand or that I would judge you harshly? After all that I’ve done for you, risking everything to save you, and you still couldn’t tell me the truth about something this important that could affect your recovery or even kill you?! I mean, I just gave you the chance a few moments ago if there was anything else and you just avoided answering. Haven’t I won your trust yet or do I have to die for good before I’ve sacrificed enough?!”

Smokescreen’s internal fans had kicked in to high gear in an attempt to help cool down his newborn systems before they overheated under the strain. The diversion expert placed one hand onto the edge of a nearby table to prevent himself from collapsing while keeping his optics locked on those of the drug addicted femme. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything! In fact, I could’ve killed you had I not found out about this! So, one last time, are there any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me, Tracer? And you can start by telling me what Rodion is. I want to know everything now before I waste any more effort on someone would doesn’t seem to think that I’m worth confiding in!”

Meanwhile, Wheeljack had allowed Axle to guide him to a more secluded location within his lab in order to talk about the latest twist in the ongoing saga of Tracer the drug-addicted femme. The mechanical engineer was beside himself, not knowing how they should proceed from this point on. Hopefully, the former doctor had the answers. “This just keeps getting worse and worse, Axle. I’ve heard about ECT before, but I’ve never actually met anyone that had been subjected to such barbaric treatment. I can’t believe she was put through that. No wonder she doesn’t like tests.”

Wheeljack crossed his arms over his chest armor and regarded the field medic with a worried expression on his shieldless faceplate. “This is going to complicate any sort of recovery Smokey has in mind for her, won’t it? Is there any hope for her at all or are we just wasting our time now that we know about the ECT? Because, I’ll tell you this much, trying to convince the naked lover-bot over there that she can’t be fixed will be an uphill battle the likes of which neither one of us has ever seen before.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

The questions she had answered in quick succession were something she had never thought she’d have to do. Not now…and she wished not ever. But now there was nothing left…no cushion to buffer her sorted past against her hopeful future. There was nothing but suspicion and hurt, and none of it was hers.

The sheer anger in Smokescreen’s normally calm and soothing voice had Tracer cringing away from him with her head held low in shame. This was worse than anything she had ever been through…even worse than the therapy itself.

Tracer stepped further from the irate mech and wrapped her arms around her waist; it was all she could do to keep from breaking down.

The scout, shaking and at a loss for the proper words finally raised her head so she could look Smokescreen in the optics.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared to death of what you might think of me. I was scared to death that you would look at me like all the others have. And no, I didn’t think you’d understand. After all you never knew I was on Syk until recently. If I told you about…the therapy you would have asked questions as to why I went through it. That would have led to more question and more question.”

Tracer dropped her hands to her sides and set an angry scowl on her face as she moved in closer to the rallybot.

“You don’t know what it was like before I met you! I had nothing! I was…am…defective and everywhere I went…everyone I met treated me like a diseased empty! I was avoided. All I wanted was to be like everyone else, but I couldn’t have that.”

She crossed her arms over her chest this time as she turned her shoulder to him.

“The treatment I needed I couldn’t afford. Once the word got out that a war was eminent I had no other choice but to do what I could to get the help I wanted…it turned out it wasn’t the help I needed.”

The scout let out a heavy sigh and raised her head, her optics turned to the ceiling. She took in the sickening color for a moment before lowering her head and turning her back to Smokescreen.

“Rodion was a cesspool but it was all I had. I practically crawled to the institute there. I thought for sure they could help me and it wouldn’t cost me a thing.”

There was long pause followed by a low sarcastic chuckle. Tracer then looked over her shoulder but the anger had melted away and was replaced by a desperate look calling for the diversion expert to try and understand.

“It was cheap but it was experimental. Four times a day they took me for sessions. Four times a day every day for thirteen vorns and it still didn’t work. I knew that after the first five vorns. When I told them that I wanted out they ignored me. They played on my fears that without their help I’d be nothing more than refuge. So they continued…I struggled sometimes but it didn’t matter. I was dragged away for my scheduled therapy and dragged back to my room.”

That same glare and that same scowl returned with renewed vigor as Tracer stalked even closer to the unpainted mech trying to steady himself against whatever he could find.

“I burdened you by telling you about my addiction to Syk and I saw what you went through. You put yourself ahead of me and I nearly lost you because of that! I don’t want that happen again. So, no, I didn’t want to confined in you about this. You’ve been through too much already. I couldn’t stand putting even more on your shoulders.”

“You’ve never known me before I was hooked. All you’ve ever seen and known of me is this. Normal…mentally. And that’s all I ever wanted. I had to go through cheap experimental therapy sessions just to find out what one drug could do in one dose. Everything…everything spiraled. Nothing will ever be the same. As soon as I’m off Syk I’ll be back to where I started…unable to function like a normal Cybertronian. A worthless-defective-diseased empty!”

The last words that escaped her vocal processor were nearly screamed out at the rallybot but with her vocal damage several parts were laced with static. It didn’t matter as long as her point got across. Tracer quickly stalked off away from Smokescreen also keeping her distance from both Wheeljack and Axle. Now it was time to think…if such a thing was possible after such an intense moment.

Wheeljack offered no resistance to Axle’s guidance to a quiet corner so he could have an uninterrupted discussion with the engineer. The revelation was a shock as Axle was familiar with the location that the therapy had been conducted. He had always been told that the volunteers that had entered the Rodion institute had seldom left with all of their mental faculties still intact. In fact the last he had heard was that several of those who had sought help wound up as nothing more than drones.

“Worse isn’t the half of it Wheeljack.”

Axle took a quick look over his shoulder and watched for an astrosecond as both mech and femme began the throes of an argument. From what the medic could tell it was probably their first one. Axle quickly shook his head and turned his attention back to the white mech standing before him.

“You’ve never met any of them because not all of them were released capable of even thinking for themselves. The treatment was cheap and they prayed on the desperate who had no other alternatives. Unfortunately none of the treatments administered at the Rodion institute were therapeutic. In fact every one of them were barbaric.”

“Just before the war broke out and the influx of new patients at the institute peeked it was shut down. Something to do with utilizing the staff and equipment for the war effort. It’s a shame to admit it but the start of the war was the best thing to happen for those patients. They were transferred to the Iacon institute where they finally got the care they needed. I wonder if Tracer was one of them because after a while there were a number of patients both from Rodion and Iacon that left the institute and wound up on the streets using narcotics to self-medicate. It seems like the only explanation as to how she became hooked. Word of mouth through the institute…convince your doctor the therapy is working and boom, you’re discharged and out on the streets.”

Axle thought about everything that had transpired over the past few cycles and tried to put everything into perspective. A very trying task.

“No, no. With the degradation at 2% we should still be capable of doing what we plan on doing, but we’re just going to have to be much more careful. The doses will have to be smaller. Which means she’ll go through longer withdrawal symptoms which will also be more intense.”

The field medic placed his elbow in his left and with his right hand stroked his chin in thought.

“I’m gonna make this happen….we’re gonna make this happen. My only concern is what happens when she’s finally off the drug. She’s not like the rest of us as far as her mental state is concerned. None of us know what she’s like without the narcotic…not even Smokescreen. What do we do for her after she’s not “normal” anymore?”

Axle took another quick glance over his shoulder and noticed both love struck ‘Bots were now yelling at one another. Not a good thing for either of them.

“Oh perfect. We better get over there before he drops to the floor unconscious and she drops to the floor convulsing.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Smokescreen tried to calm down as he listened to Tracer explain why she had not confided in him in regards to the experimental treatment she had suffered through at the Rodion Institute. The rallybot had only heard whispers of such places, but he had never actually been to one or met anybody who had ever been a patient in a slag hole like she was describing. It sounded horrible on every level and the fact that she was forced to continue her treatments against her will was absolutely spark breaking to the unpainted mech.

The troubled femme’s desperate story slowly turned Smokescreen’s anger into sorrow for her. Things were so much clearer to him now that she had filled in the blanks. The rallybot only wished she had done so without his prodding and just trusted him from the beginning of all this. But, who was he to judge her for the lies she had told when Smokey, himself, was the best liar of them all? His cheating, his gambling, his illegal street racing - was all that any better than the lies and half truths that the blue and white scout had told? No, not really. In fact, Tracer’s reasoning for being deceitful was far more rational and sound than anything the diversion expert could come up with for his past questionable behavior. Smokey had acted the way that he did because he had enjoyed it, not because he was forced to. He was having fun while Tracer was in constant suffering.

“I had no idea,” Smokescreen muttered quietly once Tracer had finished her increasingly loud tirade and finally moved away from him again. “But you still should’ve told me. I know I’m one of the physically weaker Autobots around, but my shoulders can still handle more than you think. What if I ended up hurting you while trying to help you? Not knowing about something like this could have made your processor damage even worse and then where would that leave us?! You’d be dead and I would have done all this for nothing!”

The rallybot took a step away from the table he had been leaning on and tried to approach the drug addled femme. However, their argument had already taken its toll on his newborn systems and Smokescreen could already feel the effects of such an emotional confrontation with someone he cared so deeply about. “I know I’m not the most truthful mech in the galaxy, but we have to at least be honest with one another.....if my plan to save you is going to....work,” the diversion expert continued as he stumbled a bit, his weakening legs finally giving out beneath him. Falling to his knees, Smokey managed to grab a hold of the makeshift med berth he and Tracer had previously been sitting on which thankfully eased the impact on his joints.

The diversionary tactician then placed both hands on his folded knees and gazed up at the troubled femme with an exhausted expression across his visage. “I’m sorry, Tracer. I just don’t want you to suffer anymore. That’s all. And you're not a worthless, defective or diseased empty. Not to me. Not ever.”
_________

Wheeljack listened carefully as Axle explained to him more about the barbaric treatments that went on at the Rodion Institute, which was thankfully shut down once the war broke out. Many of the patients were transferred to Iacon and some eventually ended up on the streets where they got hooked on narcotics like Syk. The mechanical engineer nodded in agreement that Tracer was likely one of those who got let out of the Iaconian facility on false pretenses.

“Yes, it seems like the logical conclusion to draw, Axle.” Wheeljack said, sparing a quick glance over at the star struck couple before returning his attention back to the field medic. “I’m guessing that after she joined the Autobots, she eventually found her way to Oil Slick, or perhaps she even knew him before the war started. Either way, their tenuous dealer/client relationship has lasted quite some time it seems. At least, until recently. Heh.”

The resident mad scientist was pleased to hear that the troubled femme was not a lost cause. The additional 2% degradation only meant that they would have to proceed more carefully with smaller doses. However, the greater concern was once she was completely weaned off the Syk. How would she act and could she be controlled in some way? “I doubt Smokescreen has thought that far ahead. He’s more focused right now on getting her off the narcotic, which I can understand. But, like you just said, how will she behave once her systems are clean? We’re basically replacing one problem with another one entirely.” Wheeljack stopped for a moment to think, hoping a solution to the eventually issue would present itself. However, the white mech’s thoughts were cut short when Axle mentioned that the pair were now shouting at each other. “Terrific. As the humans would say, I guess the honeymoon is over.”

As Wheeljack moved towards the arguing lovers, he saw Smokescreen stumble at one point and fall to his knees. The engineer’s pace quickened considerably at the sight of his friend on the floor, reaching the former gambler's side in mere astroseconds. “Smokey, are you okay?” The scientist asked as he knelt down and placed a hand on the diversion expert’s shoulder plate.

“Sure thing, ‘Jack,” the tired rallybot responded, glancing over at the inventor. “Never...better. Just a lover’s quarrel....that’s all. Heh.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Wheeljack responded to his ailing comrade as he looked back at the field medic with a concerned expression. “Axle, I think we may need to get him back into my CR pod where he can continue to heal and rest properly without any more emotional altercations or other distractions.” The scientist then paused before glancing over at Tracer, being careful not to give her an accusatory look. “I’m no medic, but I feel it’s for the best.”

Science Lab

Ultra Magnus stepped over towards a cluttered work bench and placed his hand next to a pair of empty beakers. His optics faded briefly as he absorbed the information, or lack there of. It wasn't much to go on to be sure and hardly enough to warrant the request that he knew was due to follow sometime in the near future.

And like clock work, Perceptor did not fail to disappoint. The soldier scooped up one of the empty transparent aluminum beakers and brought it level with his gaze, allowing Perceptor's image to become distorted by the impromptu filter.

"You are not exactly giving me a enough details to warrant such a leap in testing. I can gather that at some point this could very well be used as some sort of fuel source, but I am concerned on how it has performed in the simulations."

He set the beaker down and let his expression soften. A great many questions floated to the surface as he read the scientist's movements. Magnus still had to deal with the dispatching of the scouting party to Earth, as well as the details that had come to him via Prowl regarding the outbreak of Cosmic Rust. "I am sorry Perceptor, I cannot authorize testing on fellow Autobots at this time, even on yourself. At least until your work has been reviewed by Wheeljack and the rest of the Autobot Corps of Engineers. Once their recommendations are in, then I will reconsider... with the proper precautions in place of course."

Magnus reached out a hand and rested it on his friend's shoulder. "I do not want to risk the lives of my comrades unnecessarily. And while this may very well be a mineral that could turn the tide of the war, without the proper precautions in place, without the proper protocols established, one test could very well kill you. I know Prime would not allow it, and in his spirit I must follow that model." He gave the plated shoulder a reassuring squeeze before allowing his arm to fall to his side. "There is a scouting mission slated for Earth. I will have the team's sensors tuned to locate more samples of this ore in order to bolster our testing materials."

Pivoting on his heel, Ultra Magnus headed for the exit. "Keep me posted on the progress Perceptor. I am sure we'll be able to crack this code swiftly, with the right amount of teamwork and investment." With that he disappeared into the halls.

Halls of the Ark-22

Ultra Magnus paused as the doors to the Science Lab closed tight behind him. He was tempted to order the computer on board ship to begin a constant surveillance on Perceptor. For some reason he had this feeling that the scientist would not take his orders to heart and instead take things into his own hands. Still he trusted Perceptor to make the right call when it came to these matters. After all it was he who had served the Iacon Science Academy well all those deca cycles ago. What a way to get his first day in office started.

He rejected the idea and instead began to make his way towards the bridge and thus the primary observation lounge of the Ark. His mind now filled with the five major matters of the day, as he knew them to be. He still had to address this modified Hot Rod character, make that six. Deal with Grimlock's theft, monitor the crisis of morale across the battle group, dispatch the Scouting Mission to Earth and its subsequent fall out from the engineering perspective, deal with the Cosmic Rust fiasco, make sure Perceptor's work was thoroughly vetted before proceeding to the testing phase and finally Rodimus. Yeah, Ultra Magnus was already beginning to regret the agreement he had made with Prowl about ascending the ranks.

Stepping through a tight bulkhead hatch leading into a wider gallery in the heart of the vessel spine. Its wide corridors capable of handling two lanes of traffic, one leading in both directions. To Ultra Magnus, it was strangely quiet. It was not as if he expected the bustle of a major megalopolis such as Altihex or Iacon, but he had hoped to see some life within the large multi-purpose vessel. It was yet another testament to war time. Autobots were in the same boat as the Decepticons, stretched to the limits with very little in the way of troop replenishment methods in sight.

Watching briefly as the first sign of life appeared momentarily near the edge of the Engineering Block, Ultra Magnus let a small smile crawl across his face. At least the ship wasn't totally abandoned. Of course that would soon change once Kup was finished with his arduous assignment of determining who would best staff both vessels. Absorbing the cold oxygen laced gases that were filtered through life support, Magnus stepped into the near abandoned highway and allowed the movement to come into focus. It was coming from Wheeljack's Laboratory. The smiled faded as he turned his back and began walking towards the bridge. While he had details to discuss with the inventor, they could wait until the briefing was concluded. And for him, that was where the priority lay. Get the Autobots planet side, and begin the proper steps to make the planet free of Decepticon infiltration and influence. That was the daunting task that he would assume as Prime would have wished and not for the first time his mind wandered to his fallen missing brother. "Where are you Optimus?"

Wheeljack’s Lab

Although she had walked away from Smokescreen she still hadn’t put too much distance between her and him. She was angry, as she knew he was, but she had no desire to be too away from him. Tracer had turned to face him just in time to see the rallybot take a step away from the table he was using as leverage and try to make his way over to her.

She watched intently while he stood and admitted that he might not have been the best of all the Autobots but he was devoted. It was true. No matter what happened or what he had done in his past he was still willing to give of himself in order to make her and his friends happy. For that she was truly grateful.

Tracer’s features softened and her tense posture finally relaxed. But that changed as Smokescreen attempted to take another step forward and stumbled. He landed on both knees before her. Tracer pursed her lips into a tight line and looked down at him.

It was his admitting that he didn’t want her to suffer anymore that nearly caused her to drop to her knees in front of him but she was beaten to the punch by the arrival of Wheeljack who had raced over to his friend’s side to make sure Smokescreen was alright. Tracer hadn’t reacted to the rallybot’s excuse concerning their argument…as far as she was concerned it was something that could be worked out in private.
____

Axle’s head rose slightly as he looked down in Wheeljack’s direction. The engineer was next to Smokescreen and urging him to take some time to rest and get back into the CR pod. It was a sound idea and something the field medic would like to see implemented.

“I’d have to agree with that sentiment, Wheeljack.”

Axle took a quick glance in Tracer’s direction before he looked down at the kneeling form of the diversion expert.

“I am a medic and time in that CR pod is for the best. So up and in!”

He sent a gesture toward Wheeljack letting the white mech know that the idea was sound and doctor’s orders were given.
_____

The conversation between Wheeljack and Axle went ignored by the femme while she kept her optics locked on the mech before her.

It had gotten uniquely quiet in the lab. Without tearing her eyes away from him Tracer dropped to her knees and gently placed her hands over Smokescreen’s. She sat for a moment and searched his features. They had known one another for centuries but there were still things that he knew nothing about. That had to change.

“You’re right. I should have told you. And I do trust you…I trust you implicitly. But you have to understand…I wanted my past…just that…to stay in my past. I never meant to hurt you.”

Tracer shook her head as she lowered her optics to their hands resting on his legs.

“I’m not going to be the same person you know. When we met I was already using. You’ve never known me…you’ve never seen me the way I really am.”

She raised her head and flashed him a weary smile while she gave him hands a gentle squeeze. It was time to stop. He needed his rest and she needed some time to think.

“I think Wheeljack and Axle are right. You need more time in that pod to recover.”

Her smile grew wider while she raised her right hand and laid it gently against his left cheek. She waited a moment taking in his features and finally locking optics with his. She rose up slightly on her knees and leaned forward pressing her lips to his in a slow passionate kiss. There would be time to talk later.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack nodded at Axle when the field medic gave him the go-ahead to get Smokescreen up and into the CR pod in order to help speed his recovery along. The mechanical engineer then looked back at the rallybot only to find that Tracer was now there, kneeling in front of him. As she spoke to the diversion expert, ‘Jack glanced away at the floor to give them some semblance of privacy even though he could still hear what was being said. The engineer paid the whispered words no mind as the concerns of a love-struck couple were not his own.

Smokescreen listened as Tracer knelt down and told him that he had been right. The troubled femme promised that she did, in fact, trust him and that she just didn’t want to revisit her dark past as it was an unpleasant one she'd rather forget. Smokey now understood her reasoning, his anger gone as her words touched his audio receptors. She then warned him that she would act very different once the Syk was expelled from her systems. It would be a side of her that the diversion expert had never seen before. The fear in her vocal processor was clearly evident.

“We’ll find a way to help you, Tracer,” Smokescreen vowed as she looked back up into his optics while her hands remained on top of his own. “I’m not afraid of the real you. Someday, what I see now, will be the real you.” He squeezed her hands back as she then agreed with both Wheeljack and Axle that he needed more time in the CR pod. The rallybot was going to respond but was quickly cut off when Tracer placed her left hand against his cheek plate. He knew what was coming as he’d seen this look on a femme’s visage before. It had been a long time ago, but it was a look one never forgot.

Finally, after what seemed like a vorn of her gazing into his optics, Tracer leaned in and gave Smokescreen a passionate kiss on his mouth. Wheeljack couldn’t help but glance over at them for a very brief moment, shaking his head slightly at the loving display of affection. The scientist waited patiently for the pair to finish their embrace, but when it didn’t come quite fast enough, the white mech had no choice but to end it, himself.

“Okay, you two, we gotta get Smokey into the CR pod now before his systems shut down,” Wheeljack interjected, not wanting to come across as being rude.

Hearing the engineer’s plea, Smokescreen slowly pulled back, not wanting the kiss to end but knowing that it had to. “All right, ‘Jack, we’re done,” the diversion expert replied without taking his optics off of Tracer. The rallybot smiled at her again as he felt Wheeljack grab a hold of his right arm and help him up to his feet.

“Tracer, grab his other arm please,” the Autobot inventor asked as he motioned towards the CR pod. “Thankfully, we don’t have far to go.” With the troubled femme’s assistance, Wheeljack guided Smokescreen over to the pod and held onto him tightly as the unpainted mech carefully stepped into the open CR unit. Once the rallybot was back inside and secured, the engineer looked down at him and smiled. “Comfy?”

“I guess,” Smokescreen responded as he adjusted his position within the small space that surrounded him. For a moment, Smokey wished this was a full sized chamber where there would be more room, but at least he’d be in deep stasis for the duration of his continued healing. “Will I finally be painted when I come out?”

“Is that all you care about, Smokey?”

“Well, no, but it’s kind of embarrassing to be walking around naked in front of Tracer, you know?”

Wheeljack cast a quick glance over at the drug-addled femme before returning his disbelieving gaze back at Smokescreen. Running his hand down his faceplate, the inventor shook his head and let out a chuckle. “Yes, Smokes, you’ll be fully painted and you’ll have your precious 38s on your door wings, too. Happy?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Good,” Wheeljack replied as he grabbed a hold of the pod’s door with his right hand. “Now, lie still. You’ll be good as new before you know it.”

“Wait!” Smokescreen exclaimed, raising his vocals slightly. He opened up a small compartment in his forearm and pulled out the vile of Syk he had been carrying since picking it up from the workbench earlier. “Take this. See if you can make more of it for me. It’s essential for Tracer’s own recovery.”

Accepting the vile from the tenacious rallybot, Wheeljack let out a quiet sigh, having known that this was coming. “I’ll do what I can, Smokey, but I’m not a chemist.”

“I know. Maybe you have a replicator around here?”

“I don’t know. I have something like that. Maybe,” Wheeljack conceded as he held on to the vile in his free hand. “I’ll need to modify it some since it was originally designed to replicate solid matter and not a chemical.”

“That’s fine, ‘Jack. Whatever you can do, I appreciate it.”

“You’ll do more than appreciate it. You’ll owe me this time!”

“I understand,” Smokescreen replied with a nod before laying his tired cranium back into the proper position.

Without wasting any more time, Wheeljack finally closed the pod’s door, allowing a hiss of air to escape. He then immediately set the repair cycle and activated the CR unit. “There, he’s all set,” the mechanical engineer stated as he looked back over at the love-struck femme. “Tracer, I need you to keep watch over him. Make sure nothing goes wrong. Okay? I’m sure you’ll have no problem handling that.”

With that said, Wheeljack turned his attention back to Axle. “If there’s nothing else you need me to do, I’m going to get to work on my replicator. I’ll see if I can adjust it to work on a narcotic like Syk.” Looking down at his side, the engineer opened up his left hand and held up the vile Smokescreen had just given him. ‘Jack studied the contents for a moment before offering it to the field medic. “You want to take a look at this, Axle? You said before that you have some knowledge of chemistry right? Any help whatsoever would be greatly appreciated.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Had she been even been given the chance Tracer would have extended their kiss for far longer than they had been allotted. As it was Wheeljack was right and so when Smokescreen finally did pull away she relented and leaned back into her previous position. As with the rallybot, Tracer too kept her optics fixated on the mech before her. If he was to be confined within that CR pod she wanted to be sure she studied every nuance of all of his features.

From the corner of her optic Tracer could just make out the grey hand of Wheeljack as he gently wrapped it around Smokescreen’s arm and helped the unpainted mech back up to his feet. Before she was even asked the blue and white scout got back to her feet and took hold of Smokescreen’s left arm supporting the mech as best she could. He was not heavy but with the Syk already running its course the strength she once possessed was steadily depleting.

The femme had remained quiet as the two good friends conversed about what Wheeljack conjectured as nothing more than something cosmetic. Smokescreen, on the other hand was adamant that his paintjob be completed as soon as possible. The comment concerning his walking around naked in front of her was just too humorous not to comment on.

“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

Tracer let out a quiet chuckle as she looked down at Smokescreen who was still trying to settle into the tight confines of the CR pod. How Wheeljack could stand using that thing was beyond her. As it was the rallybot had to not only contend with the slim side, but also the fact that he had barely enough room to lie down what with the space needed to flatten his doorwings. She could only imagine just how uncomfortable he must be.

After the exchange between the two old friends and when Wheeljack had taken hold of the pod’s door, Tracer took a step back ready to watch as stasis took Smokescreen away temporarily. The sudden cry from the pod had her moving forward again…her hands gripping the opening. It didn’t surprise he that the mech that had always taken care of her was still doing so even when it was he who needed to be taken care of.

Tracer paid no attention to the vial that had exchanged hands…instead she kept her sole focus on Smokescreen. Even as the door was finally closed over the prone ‘Bot Tracer kept watch. She placed a hand carefully over the glass that was fixed directly over Smokescreen’s upper body. Even if Wheeljack hadn’t suggested it she would still have remained behind to watch over him.

“Don’t worry, Wheeljack. I’m not going anywhere until he gets out.”

She spared a quick glance over her shoulder at the engineer whose form was already deteriorating into a slight blurry smudge in her optics. Tracer looked back down to the pod and ran her fingers lightly across the glass surface a delicate smile on her face.
Axle had been watching the whole display and had kept his vocalizer on mute for as long as he possibly could. As touching as the scene had been it didn’t get any of them closer to a solution to the problem at hand.

“Ugh. Those two have got it bad.”

The medic shook his head slightly…a slight smirk plastered on his face. He looked up at Wheeljack and widened his smile. They had all been through a lot, but none more than the engineer. Not only was he thrust into helping save his good friend’s life but he was now thrust into saving another life.

“No, ‘Jack. You can go ahead and get to work on your replicator.”

Axle then took the proffered vial and went through the same motions as the white mech before him…the field medic lifted the container and swirled the liquid around before lowering it and looking back to Wheeljack.

“Yeah. Basic as in whatever was taught at the DMF. There was never much offered in terms of major medical chemistry. Deltaran Medical Facility…a great place to work...just don’t count on learning anything useful. Heh.”

The field medic let out a disgruntled sigh as he moved to a free spot on the workbench and went straight to work rummaging through the contents of the storage bins and cabinets for everything he would need in order to figure out just what the concoction consisted of.

“Let’s see here. Ah! You do have one.”

Axle took hold of the electron microscope that had been stored neatly in the back of one of the storage cabinets that sat at the back of the lab. Some more searching and Axle had gathered a table full of equipment…some would need to be used as improvised tools, others were just what he had been looking for.

A sample of the Syk was taken and promptly mounted on a slide and placed beneath the scope’s lenses. Axle then took a look at exactly what he had.

“You know, I never really asked you if I could actually call you ‘Jack, Wheeljack. I mean you and I had never met before our…well, before all this.”

He gave a slight shrug while his optics were still glued to the scope’s end. The determination of which compounds that made up the narcotic wouldn’t take very long…it was the synthesis, or rather the reverse engineering…unless Wheeljack had gotten his replicator to work…that would take a fair amount of time.

“Well now. This is really…disturbing. That explains the deterioration of the optic housing. A derivative of fluoroantimonic acid.”

Axle let out a low sigh. The findings were not what he had expected. The mixture of compounds was not what the field medic had wanted to find, but they would have to work with it.

“Looks like there are between two to three varieties of circuit speeders, and that’s not including the actual Syk. Damn, this one might be a hallucinogen. I’m guessing the dose she took before arriving back onboard didn’t contain it.”

Axle pulled away from the scope and took a hard look in Wheeljack’s direction. The scowl on the medic’s face conveyed all the ire that had recently welled up within him.

“I take it Oil Slick’s been her dealer since she began using. The ‘Con’s sick enough to include acid in his little compound experiments I wouldn’t put it past him to add the hallucinogen and the additional circuit speeders.”

His features softened as he took a gentle hold of the vial and looked back to the engineer.

“Wheeljack, we better get this right the first time. We get anything wrong and the mixture is off in any way…or the remaining sample is lost...then your friend is bound to lose his girlfriend. That doesn’t even include the possibility that if we do get it right and she’s weaned off…I can’t say for sure how she’d take it.”

Axle ran his hand down the length of his face and stood up from the stool he had been occupying. With one hand rubbing at his chin he gestured toward the pod and Tracer who was still poised over the glass.

“I don’t know anything about her underlying condition but if she was hell bent to seek out help at the Rodion Institute than I can assure you that it’s serious. No Syk might mean…well desperate people usually resort to desperate and permanent measures to stop their suffering.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

“They sure do,” Wheeljack replied to Axle’s comment regarding Smokescreen and Tracer before his face shield slid shut again, covering a grinning visage from sight. “Good thing Smokey didn’t die or there’d be no helping her no matter what we tried.” The mechanical engineer then nodded as the field medic gave him the go ahead to begin working on his replicator. First, however, he needed to find it amongst all of his tools, equipment and other assorted gadgets, both completed and half-finished inventions of his own making. It shouldn’t be too difficult, however, as the device in question is not very small, but it’s also not huge, either.

As Axle commented about the Deltaran Medical Facility where he picked up his basic knowledge of chemistry from, Wheeljack moved across his lab to a far corner and began searching through one of his storage closets. Moving a variety of things aside, some of which was just useless junk, 'Jack finally found what he was looking for. “Ah, there you are!” The scientist exclaimed as he reached down and carefully lifted the portable replicator up in his arms and carried it back out into the main lab area. It was heavier than he had remembered, but it was nothing that the white mech couldn’t handle.

Placing the cylinder-shaped unit onto the floor, Wheeljack squatted next to it for a moment, carefully looking it over for any signs of outward damage or decay from being in storage for so long. It appeared to be in perfect working order, but that was of little comfort as the device was originally designed to replicate tools and machine parts, not chemicals or drugs of any kind. The engineer would have to modify it considerably for it to have the ability to create more Syk for the drug-addled femme.

Hearing the field medic ask him about his nick name, Wheeljack glanced over at the former doctor and smiled under his face shield. “Of course, you can call me ‘Jack. Everyone does.” The scientist chuckled before returning his attention to the replicator, accessing a side panel and taking a peek within to see exactly what needed to be re-routed, added or subtracted, if he was going to make this idea work. It would be difficult but not impossible, or so the engineer thought.

While Wheeljack studied the internal workings of the replicator, he had one audio receptor tuned in to everything Axle was saying regarding the Syk, Oil Slick and how they had to get the concoction absolutely perfect if Tracer was to benefit from the drug at all. Otherwise, the troubled femme would likely die, and it would be Smokescreen that was left without his mate. “Well, I don’t know how long he’s been her dealer, but Slick’s one sick fragger that’s for certain. Regardless, if this drug needs to be perfect, then I’ll need you to identify every ingredient within that vile, no matter how small, so that I may program each element into my replicator here. I’ll also need to know the exact percentage of each component in order to avoid an overdose.”

The mechanical engineer paused for a moment to consider what he was about to suggest. “Although, if there is a hallucinogen included like you say, then perhaps we should consider leaving that part out. I mean, she’s clearly not hallucinating now, so she doesn’t really need that bit for the drug to be effective. I just think it's a bad idea to give her something that will make her see things that aren't there. She's got enough problems as is. Of course, it’s just an idea. Whatever you think is best, Axle.”

With that said, Wheeljack lifted the replicator off the ground and carried it over to the nearest workbench where he gently placed it down. Now sitting at chest level, the cylinder-shaped device was in a perfect position for the Autobot scientist to do his thing. He waited to begin, however, as the field medic expressed more concerns regarding how Tracer will act once she is finally weaned off the Syk. It was certainly a concern in the back of his processor, but not one the inventor wanted to think about right now.

"I'll worry about that when or if it happens. For now, I'm just going to focus on reconfiguring my replicator so that it can handle chemical reproduction as well as solid matter while you’re working on dissecting that sickening brew,” the engineer informed his medical comrade as he pulled up a stool and sat down in front of the unit. Wheeljack then opened the side access panel once more and grabbed a couple of items from his trusty toolkit before going to work on the reconfiguration that would change the very nature of the replicator to suit his current needs. Or, as was the case in this situation, Tracer’s needs.

Forward Observation Lounge

Nova Strike pressed the activation pad off to the right of the orange double doors. He waited briefly and patiently as the computer authorized his transfer to the new command system. To his right and down the elevated walkway at the end of the internal spine avenue was the spacious bridge of the Ark Class multiple purpose heavy star ship. The bridge was manned by a skeletal crew, its main deck officer down on the primary command deck maintaining the tedious task of basic command duties. Inwardly Nova smirked, at least he knew he would never be given the punishment task of commanding such a large battle wagon, or even a small corvette in this war. Rangers rarely lived long enough to rise that high in the ranks, and further more what need did he have for naval command?

Turning his attention back to the computer panel he reentered his codes and this time pounded the activation toggle with his closed fist. A sputter of static and a blip of authorization, followed by a sputtering smoldering wisp of smoke brought the door back online. The hydraulics pulled the doors back into the bulkhead with a muted strain.

The ranger stepped over the threshold and allowed his optics to readjust to the dimmer light of the observation lounge and the large blue orb that hung behind the distinct image of Ultra Magnus who stood peering out into the day night terminus. Between he and the new sector commander was a large oval table who's center was carved out and replaced by a holographic generator. "Nova Strike...." He started as the doors closed behind him. "Reporting as ordered."

"Oh great, so we get another hotshot racer bot to grace us with his presence." The ranger's optics darted over towards a shaded portion of the lounge and caught the familiar glint of the golden head of the loud mouthed Aerialbot.

"Enough Slingshot." Ultra Magnus ordered without the benefit of turning to face either of them. "Welcome Nova Strike, have a seat. We will begin when Prowl and the others arrive."

Nova Strike nodded and took a seat opposite that of Slingshot, a quarter of the way between himself and the star field. "Thank you commander. Though I am not sure why I am being included in a scouting mission. Not exactly my specialty... course if we find a Decepticon camp down there..."

The voice was left hanging as the double doors slid open again to reveal the next stage of operatives destined to investigate Earth for a new colony.