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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?"