The Energon Pub

Bounce Chamber

Tracks stared down at First Aid as he began to do something to Axle's internals. Probably just a routine check up before they took him back to the medical bay. The breems ticked away as the Autobot warrior waited for the go ahead to get Axle onto the gurney. When First Aid looked up at him holding a towel, Tracks let out a sigh of relief. It was then he realized First Aid had returned to Axle. 

Tracks nearly sighed when First Aid turned back. He wasn't about to complain about the time it was taking, after all, Tracks knew these things took a while. Plus, a fellow bot's life was at stake here. Tracks hadn't known Axle that well. Every once in a while he might have passed him in the corridor, perhaps exchange a greeting, but nothing else.

Shifting uncomfortably, Tracks looked back down at the two medi-bots, hoping for a reassuring sign from one of them. When First Aid turned back to him and told him to help get Axle on the gurney, Tracks nearly whooped. It was then that he noticed the energon-soaked towel dangling from First Aid's hand. Not usually a squeamish bot, Tracks had to admit the ghastly sent a shiver through his mainframe. Slowly bending over and picking up Axle's legs, Tracks helped First Aid gently lower the injured bot on the gurney.

As First Aid pulled the gurney while Tracks pushed from behind, Tracks realized something very bad.

Oh dear. Hex is going to be in a very fowl humor when he gets back.

Speaking aloud, Tracks  directed his question to the back of First Aid's head. 
 
"Will Axle recover?" 

Tracks hoped the answer would be positive, for both Axle's sake, and the sake of Tracks and his fellow comrades, who would feel the wrath of the psycho Hex if Axle didn't pull through. 

Bounce Chamber

Sunstreaker appeared in the room in another flash of light. He stood still for a moment, scowl on his face as he recovered his bearing from the awkwardness of orbital bounce. Once he felt confident he could walk steadily he walked right over to Sideswipe and gave him a hard shove.

“Next time you sign me up for a mission make sure its worth going! I barely got a couple of hits in before the Cons ran away. I had one of those little Sunti-losers in my sights when he vanished. Then before I can find a new target we are whisked away.”

The warrior stomped out of the room. “And now I have to touch up my paint job, AGAIN. Would have been better off just lying somewhere deactivated,” he grumbled as he left the room, bound for the repair bay.

*

Incoming Signal to the Guardian

>>”Hot Spot to Guardian, requesting immediate retrieval of myself and all Autobots on my team. Infiltration protocols under imminent threat of being breached.”<<

Corridors

First Aid and Tracks had left the bounce chamber, the doctor pulling the hover gurney while the blue mech pushed. The only thing on his mind was how to go about repairing the field medic as quickly as he could before his spark gave from the stress of his injuries.

The Protectobot’s thoughts were brought back to the vain Tracks when he asked if Axle would make it. First Aid didn’t answer right away; instead he looked over his shoulder at the prone form of his friend and sighed. His attention, and optics, refocused on the warrior as he finally responded to Track’s query.

“It’s hard to say, Tracks. He looks like he went one on one with Snapdragon. I’ll know more when we get him to the Medical Bay.”

First Aid increased his speed; he didn’t want to waste any more time.

Medical bay

Once within the Med Bay, First Aid would be in his element. Healing was what he was meant to do, and Primus be damned if he’d let Axle expire on his repair table. The doctor pulled the gurney next to one of the medical tables and hoisted the body of Axle on to it himself.

Without a word to Tracks, First Aid went right to work. Truth be told, he’d feel more at ease if he had an assistant, unfortunately that where Axle had come in. He shook his head in order to remove the thought from his processor. He could do this, and once Ratchet was back he’d be able to help out.

Corridor outside the Docking Tunnel to the Ark – 19

The scowl on Tracer’s face melted into an expression of surprise and shock when she turned her head to look away from her annoying would be suitor. The sight of the former racer made brought a, for once, genuinely happy smile to her face. Smokescreen. She hadn’t seen him in such a long time she hadn’t even thought he was still in the same solar system.

“Smokescreen!?”

The femme scout pushed past Sideswipe in order to move closer to her long lost friend and stopped directly in front of the red and blue mech. She rubbed her right temple as she tried to comprehend how he wound up here standing in front of her.

Sideswipe’s expression went from that of amour to surprise in the short amount of time it took for Smokescreen to arrive through the tunnel. The crimson warrior looked from Tracer to the former street racer and back to the femme.

“Soo, you two know each other? From where?”

Without taking her optics off of the mech in front of her, she responded to Sideswipe.

“We do. Smokescreen and I met on Cybertron. He helped me through some rough times back then.”

Tracer’s smile faded as she thought of the rough time she'd ahead for her. She could already feel the effect of the Syk wearing off. There was no doubt she would have to get planet side in order to get more from Oil Slick. The sound of Sideswipe’s voice brought her back to reality.

The red twin watched as both old friends tried to fathom how they could not have crossed paths before now. Sideswipe knew that he would have no chance of regaining Tracer’s attention with Smokescreen now in her sights; best try when they weren’t together.

“Well, I can see you guys have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll just let you have at it. ‘sides I need to pay back Sunny for his little hissy fit.”

Sideswipe began to leave but quickly turned around.

“Oh, and I’ll catch you later, sweetspark.”

Tracer looked over her shoulder and let out a disgusted groan as she watched the jock leave the corridor. The kona blue femme turned her attention back to Smokescreen, the smile that had faded once again returned.

“I’ve been…alright. The war…”

She let her words linger for a moment before she lunged forward and embraced him. She held him for a long moment before she whispered into his audio.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Mess Hall

Prowl relaxed a bit when Hot Rod agreed to be checked out by Ratchet and accepted that he would not become the new Autobot leader at the current time. Still, his insistence that he would one day assume the mantel of Prime bothered the military strategist, but at least the cavalier was now thinking a little more rationally. Regardless, the whole situation still didn’t compute right in the black and white’s logic center. Mechs don’t just magically transform into Primes, especially ones with a reputation like Hot Rod’s. Hopefully, whatever tests Ratchet could run would reveal the facts behind what had actually happened to the flame-covered ‘Bot.

Once Hot Rod excused himself from the meeting and left the mess hall, Prowl turned his attention back to Kup as the old timer clarified his earlier remarks. The analyst had been hasty in his response, misunderstanding what the aged mech had really meant. Prowl managed a smile before placing a hand on Kup’s shoulder. “My apologies, Kup. I meant no disrespect. Clearly you didn’t mean that you were willing to make him a Prime right now, and I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I’m sorry.” Removing his hand from the old mech’s shoulder, Prowl looked down at the datapad on the nearby table. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to place Hot Rod on the list. It doesn’t mean he’ll be chosen, of course. I guess it’s logical to keep all options available to us, even if they seem strange and unexplained. But, before any decision can be made regarding Hot Rod, we must first ascertain what exactly is going on with him. I sincerely hope Ratchet can shed some degree of light on his condition.”

Prowl’s train of thought was then interrupted by the outbursts from some of the Dinobots before the imposing form of Grimlock, himself, stood over the strategist and peered down at the smaller Autobot. The Dinobot Commander’s words were strong and challenging almost to the point of insubordination. However, the black and white knew that now was not the time to fire back in an aggressive manner as it would only serve to infuriate the Dinobots and their leader even further. It would simply serve no logical purpose. Instead, the situation needed to be defused and quickly. Unfortunately, the military strategist was not the best mech for that task, but he was the only one capable of giving Grimlock the response he was now demanding.

“Grimlock, you misunderstand me,” Prowl began to say, trying to keep his features calm and his voice at a low level. “I don’t want the leadership position. I’m not even on my list that I’ve compiled. See for yourself. The datapad’s right there on the table. This is not who I am. As you said, I’m a strategist, I’m supposed to lay out plans and strategies for our leader, not be the leader. I’m only in this position because of my rank and because I want what’s best for the Autobots as a whole. I’ll do whatever it takes to maintain our standing as a force to be reckoned with against the Decepticons. If that means that I have to be in charge for the time being until a definitive leader can be decided on then so be it.”

Prowl paused for a moment as he looked Grimlock in the optics. It was hard sometimes to judge what the Dinobot Commander was thinking, but his previous angry expression hadn’t appeared to change much in the past few astroseconds. In fact, there was probably nothing that the military strategist could say now that would calm the big mech down. “As for the battles currently transpiring down on Earth, the most recent data I’ve received from the bridge suggests that both engagements are already over with, and the Autobot teams should be bouncing back here soon for repairs and the requisite debriefings. I’m sorry, Grimlock, you’re just going to have to accept the status quo for now. I wish I had all the answers, but I don’t. That’s what this ‘boring’ meeting is for, to help figure things out. I’m doing my best to rectify the situation we are all in, and I will need everyone’s help and cooperation in order to continue to do so.”

Prowl looked down for a moment before returning his gaze up at the Dinobot Commander. “I know you don’t like me, many around here don’t. But, I’m asking for your patience now. You are a great field commander, and I will require you and your team’s combat skills in the coming cycles. We need to stand together if we are to maintain unity amongst the ranks. Otherwise, this could all fall apart, and the 'Cons will gain a decisive advantage. So, are you with me, Grimlock? For the sake of the Autobot cause, will you at least give me a chance?”

*********

Snarl reluctantly backed down as Grimlock waved his hand at him and the other Dinobots before challenging the military strategist as to why he should remain leader. The Desert Warrior couldn’t help but agree with what his unit commander was saying. Holding boring meetings would get them no where, not while the Combaticons were now causing trouble. Snarl and the rest of the Dinobots needed to be out there crushing Decepticon cranial units, not holed up in a mess hall listening to some bureaucrat drone on and on about why the meeting was needed and how he ended up as the interim leader even though he didn’t really want the job. Prowl’s response was as long winded as his ego was big, and it served only to anger the Desert Warrior even further.

“Prick-bot talk out of aft section, Grimlock,” Snarl finally spoke up after having heard enough scrap from the idiot strategist. “Him not want to be leader but still is. Make no sense. Let’s just go and fight ‘Cons. Forget Prowl and Hot Rodimus and just do our own thing.” The Desert Warrior was itching for a battle with anyone at this point, and if he didn’t get some action soon he would simply have to pick a fight, himself.

Corridor Outside Docking Tunnel to Ark-19

Smokescreen watched as Tracer pushed past Sideswipe in order to get closer to him, the diversion expert’s smile never fading. Hearing her say his name for the first time in many vorns made his circuits tingle, allowing even more memories of the past to reenter his processor. Smokey listened as she explained that they were old friends, having originally met back on Cybertron. She mentioned how he had helped her through some tough times without going into any real detail. It was no one’s business, especially not someone like Sideswipe who wouldn’t be able to understand anyway.

Finally, the red twin took the hint and decided to leave the two of them alone to get reacquainted, but not before leaving Tracer with one of his immature comments as he walked away. She simply groaned at him before returning her gaze to Smokescreen. She began to answer the red and blue mech's question regarding how she had been, briefly mentioning the war before jumping at him suddenly and embracing him. The rallybot heard her whisper into his audio receptor as he returned the favor and wrapped his own arms around her, not believing that they had found one another after so long.

“I’ve missed you, too, Tracer,” Smokescreen replied in a hushed tone equal to her own. He held her close for a moment longer before pulling his head back to look her in the optics. “I know what you mean about the war. It’s been tough for me, too. Thankfully, my deceiving skills have come in handy in my role as diversionary tactician. Still, I kinda miss the old days when my life consisted of street racing, gambling....and you.” Smokey paused for a long moment, allowing his smile to grow even wider as he gently rubbed both of her arms with his hands. He then shook his head slightly, still in amazement. “I can’t believe we haven’t run into each other before now. Did you arrive on the Ark-22 or have you been on the Guardian this whole time?”

Incoming Message from Iran

>>”Guardian, this is Ratchet. We are ready for bounce.”<<

Corridor outside Docking Tunnel to Ark -19

The scout felt safe in the former racer’s arms, it was a feeling she wished would never end. Tracer looked back into Smokescreen’s optics when he pulled his head back; an affectionate smile on her face as she took in the entire moment. The femme listened as Smokescreen revealed what function he now held since joining the Autobots. It was only fitting that he’d be the one to help by diverting the enemy. After all, he was the best. His mention of missing the days when he had been living a life of nothing but street racing, gambling and her, brought back a flood of memories.

Tracer’s attention switched from the mech standing before her to the floor as she recalled the time that she and Smokescreen had met. Her reminiscing was cut short when she felt his hands gently rubbing her arms. The scout raised her head and looked him in the optics, another smile spread over her face as he shook his head in continued disbelief that they had finally been reunited.

“I know. It’s hard to believe we’ve been this close to one another and we never…”

Tracer’s smile started to fade as she felt that all too familiar feeling of depression begin to take hold. She averted her optics as the embarrassment of her condition manifested itself. He knew about her disorder, but what he didn't know was that she was addicted to Syk. She couldn’t risk him finding out, so instead of drawing attention to her current ailment she looked back at him and feigned a smile. For now all that mattered was getting reacquainted.

“I was assigned to the Guardian. With First Aid on board; if something would happen…anyway, it hasn’t been very easy.”

She raised her right hand slightly and gently placed it on his cheek.

“You were the only constant in my life back then, and you were the only one who ever treated me like I was normal. I have always been grateful for that. But it’s getting worse, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

The Kona blue femme ran her hand down from his cheek only to let it come to rest on his forearm before she spoke up again. She recalled the times that she would torment herself with the disturbing thoughts of him being hurt, or worse, off-lined.

“After a while I started to believe that something had happened to you. I started to believe that I would never see you again.”

Tracer flashed him a genuine smile this time around as she also stepped close to embrace him once again.

“Please. Tell me that you won't be reassigned. Because if you…if I couldn’t see you again…”

She let the statement linger as she held onto Smokescreen just a little tighter.

Private Quarters

Nova Strike stepped further into the nearly all encompassing gloom. His optical sensors polarized to night vision to give him a decent quality of layout. Internally he mapped the spartan furniture deployment and logged it into his systems in order to prevent rather unwanted destruction of private property.

"Never brave huh?" Nova stopped at the edge of a Igdarian Table covered in fastidiously stacked data slates, most unread or even accessed. Mission reports left to flounder and drain of the vital electricity that kept them powered. He looked down at one that was graded at his own pay level. Intelligence regarding Stunticon movement planet side.

The ranger shook his head. It irritated him that he had not been summoned to partake within such an interesting engagement. Pushing the thought from his processors, he snapped his fingers. "Computer, raise lighting to full capability."

The room immediately flared to life in a bright wave of ionized particles.

"Coward huh? The same Autobot who infiltrated Kaon in order to help release two hundred and seventy five captive Autobot soldiers. The same Autobot who single handed got through the Polyhex Line to discover the Qexux Code?" Nova Strike stepped up to Bumblebee and placed his hand on the yellow espionage expert's shoulder. "Not exactly something ole Bluestreak would do now is it?"

"So what, Darkride tore back your skin and planted a bomb in your torso. Get over it. You survived, yeah its traumatic but use that trauma." He spun the mech around. "Use it as a fuel to your reactor. Take what those bastards did to you and turn it into the motivation you need to stop them from doing to anyone else."

He shook his head. "Difference between you and any youngster is, you have the experience to overcome such an ordeal. Force it to the fore of your mind and put it to work against the enemy. And your yellow carcass can start by getting out from underneath the bed sheets."

Med Bay

Tracks felt helpless. His usual haughty,  confident  nature had been pushed into low throttle when he saw Axle laying on the floor of the bounce chamber in a pool of his own energon. Despite being vain and condescending, Tracks was an Autobot, and Autobots protect life. Just because he was amazing and handsome and deserved recognition, did not mean his welfare should be put above his teammates'. Now, when a bot needed help the most, and he was there, it was in an area in which he could be of absolutely no significant use. Tracks stood awkwardly in the doorframe, staring intently at the floor.

Well, I could at least try...

"Uh, is there any way I can assist with anything else? If not, I'll guess I'll go and get a wax job or polish....or something..."
 
Tracks sighed disheartedly. The day had started out so well. Wax and polish, a little training, another wax, a refreshing stasis nap, and even picking up a little gossip from the meeting in the mess hall. But now.... the world seemed so hopeless.

Corridor Outside Docking Tunnel to Ark-19

Smokescreen listened as Tracer returned his gaze and began to say how hard it was to believe that they were this close to each other and never even realized it. Her words trailed off, however, as her smile faded and she broke off optical contact with the diversion expert. That familiar look of depression fell across her as she tried desperately to hide it from him, but Smokey knew that somber look all too well. It had been a very long time since he’d last seen her suffering, but it was something that he would never forget. Those memories of her were not so wonderful, but they were still ones that he needed to remember for her sake.

Smokescreen was about to say something when Tracer continued speaking about being assigned to the Guardian with First Aid, just in case. The rallybot felt her hand on his cheek as she told him how grateful she was that he never treated her like some kind of crazy ‘bot, but as a normal mech like everyone else. She then revealed that her condition was getting progressively worse and she felt helpless to stop it. Smokey’s smile faded now as sadness took him over. Just as she had worried about him all those vorns they were apart, he too had always worried about her well being. In the back of the red and blue racer’s processor, he had always wondered if she was okay and how she was dealing with the depressive state she often found herself in. Had she beaten back those dark feelings or had they taken her over and driven her to the brink. Would they manifest during battle and thus cause her great physical harm as well as the emotional turmoil she normally felt? Thankfully, she had survived this long, but clearly those concerns could still come to fruition even now.

As Tracer held on to him a bit tighter, she begged him to remain with her and not be reassigned elsewhere. She sounded desperate and Smokescreen couldn’t help but reassure her that everything would be okay. “I’m not going anywhere, Tracer. I’ve been on the planet below for the past eight Earth years, I think, and I’m now assigned to the repair crew of the Ark-19, which is a pretty big job in and of itself. So, don’t worry, I’ll be around for many cycles to come.” Smokey then released his hold on her slightly so he could once again look her in the faceplate. His right hand reached up to her chin in order to gently guide her gaze up to meet his own. “You’re going to be all right, Tracer. I promise. I’m here now, and I’ll help you in any way that I can just like before.”

Smokescreen smiled again, hoping that his words and compassionate features would bring Tracer some comfort and relief. He felt a slight tremble course through her and into his arms. It was then he realized that he needed to get her processor off of her condition and onto something more constructive. “Listen, why don’t you come over to the Ark-19 and help us with the repairs? We could use another hand, and it’ll help keep you focused on something else for a while. And if something were to still happen, I’ll be there for you just like old times. Sound like a plan?”

Private Quarters – Bumblebee

The prone form of the yellow minibot was a sorry sight to behold, and it seemed that Nova Strike was not going to take his self- loathing anymore. The taller mech stepped into Bumblebee’s sanctuary and stopped by the desk that was located near the door to the room. Bumblebee heard the subtle movement of the datapads and looked up to see Nova staring at a slightly illuminated tablet. The next moment the Ranger was raising the intensity of the lights to their full power.

The sudden brightening caused the minobot to lower his gaze back down until his optics had adjusted enough to cast his gaze back up at Nova. Bumblebee was surprised at the tone of the mech as he reminded the spy that he was not a coward and that his past accomplishments were proof of that fact. The memories of those missions brought a slight smile to his face, however, it soon melted into a deep frown when Nova mentioned Darkride’s name.

Soon the mech’s tone began to grate on Bee’s rather docile personality. How could he come in here and tell him to just get over what he had been through? The whole ordeal was never going to be filed away in some encrypted safe within his processor. He’d remember it for the rest of his days, and there was nothing that he could do to rid himself of it. Sure, he could keep busy with missions and paper work, and the occasional party, but once he was alone he would remember.

Maybe he’s right.

Bumblebee shook his head in abject rejection. He had been successful on a lot of missions, but it was this last one in which he had been captured. It was he who forced the Autobots’ hand and caused them to retreat.

“That’s all well and good, but you can’t possibly know just how I feel. I can push the ordeal to the fore of my processor, but that will never change the fact that I was careless and I paid the price. I’m not the kind of mech that can just let anything like this pass. I, not only, put myself in danger, but I also put my friends and colleagues in danger. That kind of mistake is unforgivable, especially by my standards.”

Bumblebee rose from his seated position on the floor and stepped up directly in front of Nova Strike. Miniscule mech jabbed his finger into the Ranger’s finger as he addressed him.

“You. Don’t. Know me. Don’t pretend that you do.”

Med Bay

The Protectobot doctor had already plunged elbow deep in Axle’s gaping chest wound when he turned his attention to the blue mech that was Tracks. The apprehension in the vain mech’s voice caused First Aid to cringe. I can’t force him to stay, but I could really use the help.

“I thank you for your assistance, Tracks, and if you wish to go I’m certainly not going to make you stay. But, with Ratchet away and Axle actually on my table, I sure could use any help I can get.”

Had his face not been hidden behind a plat and a visor, First Aid would have flashed Tracks a sheepish smile.

Corridor Outside Docking Tunnel to Ark – 19

Smokescreen’s reassuring tone, and long stint on this particular planet, gave Tracer the reassurance that she so desperately wanted. He was going to be around for quite some time, they were going to be together for the foreseeable future. The scout let out a relieved sigh before she felt his hold on her lighten and he raised his hand to her chin and gently lifted it so that she could gaze into his optics.

His words were just as soothing as they were when they were back on Cybertron. She gave him a small, but still, genuine smile as she nodded in acceptance. He always had a way of making her feel safe; whether it was in his arms or just listening to the certainty in his voice.

When he mentioned that she should join him in restoring the Ark – 19 to its full functionality she hesitated to answer. There would be no possibility way for her to be of any use if she did not get another fix. Saying no would devastate her, but she also did not want to let on that she was already going through withdraw. That would surly raise his suspicions.

“I can’t. Primus knows I want to, but I have to…”

She paused for a moment trying to think of an excuse to leave him. The process was almost heartbreaking for her.

“…Razr. He'll be coming out of recharge and I’ll need to feed him. There are also reports I need to finish.”

The femme flashed him a sweet smile before she moved her hand back up to gently rest on the side of his neck. After a moment she moved in close and pressed her chevron crested forehead against his.

“Maybe we can get together when I’m done and you can sneak away?”

Corridor Outside Docking Tunnel to Ark-19

Disappointment crept into Smokescreen’s gaze for a moment as his optics remained fixated on her faceplate. He thought for sure that she’d take him up on his offer to join the Ark-19 repair team, but her response was not what he had hoped to hear. Regardless, he understood her reasoning in the need to care for her pet, Razr, as well as having to finish whatever reports she had yet to complete. Still, the pause in her answer seemed to suggest that there was perhaps some other reason behind her rejection, but he didn’t want to read too much into it as he was well aware that her condition sometimes produced nervous tics in her vocal patterns.

“I understand, Tracer,” Smokescreen replied with a wide smile to assure her that he was not upset or even disappointed, the latter of which was not exactly true, of course. “When I was first stationed down on Earth, things were a lot quieter than they are now, leaving only a variety of seemingly never-ending and mundane paperwork to fill out. It was almost stasis inducing.” Smokey let out a low chuckle as the image of her little pet turbofox entered his processor. “And I completely forgot about Razr! How is the little guy? I wonder if he’ll remember me. At least you had him all these vorns to keep you company.”

Tracer then smiled, a sight that made Smokescreen happy considering her previous depressed expression. She leaned in close to him again, placing her hand on the side of his neck while pressing her forehead against his own. The troubled femme suggested that they could meet up later once she was done with her work and if he was able to sneak away from his own duties. Smokey returned another smile to her as he gently rubbed her upper arms with both hands. “Of course we can meet up. And, don’t worry, sneaking away shouldn’t be a problem. Just signal me whenever you can.”

Corridor outside Docking Tunnel to Ark – 19

She had seen the disappointment make way to his optics as she rejected his suggestion to join him and the others repair the docked ship. It was last thing she had wanted to do; disappoint him. Tracer had made sure when she was living on the streets on Cybertron that she would never disappoint those who had helped her get by. It was probably the only way she could repay them for whatever kindness they had shown toward her. Those who did help her were few and far between, and ultimately, they never stuck around. Except Smokescreen.

Tracer slowly lifted her head and looked back into his optics. The deep sapphire hue drew her in, and by the time she was able to stop herself, she responded to his query, but she also added something she was had not intended to.

“Razr’s doing well. Being cooped up on a ship for all this time hasn’t been very good for him. He needs to be able to run, but there isn’t anywhere on board he can truly let loose. He spends most of his time in recharge now. He’s probably still out cold right now.”

Another smile crept onto her face at the feel of his hands rubbing her upper arms. She was drawn back to reality upon his mention of being able to get away to meet up with her later. Later. I can’t wait that long. Maybe…maybe getting to know one another again would help keep my mind off the withdraw symptoms.

“You know, if you have time now…I’m sure Razr would be really happy to see you again. The reports can wait. After all they have so far.”

She gave him a smile.

“I’d bet the guys you’re working with could spare you for a little time.”

Tracer flashed him the same alluring smile she had used when they first met. A memory she enjoyed very much reminiscing on. Had he not caught her trying to swipe some of his credits, they would have never even met. The thought brought a smile back to her face.

“Don’t make me beg, Smokescreen.”

She let out a chuckle as she waited for him to answer.

Personal Quarters

"Don't know how you feel huh?" The words bit into Nova's own personal memory like a sharkticon on a feeding frenzy. What would anyone know of the horrors the Rangers had seen or even committed during this long almost pointless war? Such personal tragedies such as Bumblebee's had been horrific, that was undeniable. But compared to the details Nova had endured, it was nothing more than a footnote in history.

He had been in many theaters of this war since its inception. Had seen slaughters of epic proportions, the mutilations of innocent beings that had never even known of the existence of other beings until it was too late. Such tales were always made tall and rarely held up the barrier between fiction and fact. Still, his nightmares, his own past gnawed at the fringe of his waking memory.

It had taken him a long time to convert tragedy to the fuel he required to take on a merciless enemy bent on visiting such terrors upon any and all who they deemed valuable for such entertainment. "As much as I would love to place that theory to the ultimate test Bumblebee. I would rather not visit further nightmares upon your already fragile state."

The light glinted off of his polished Cybertronian light band that was split across his chest as Nova Strike's expression remained stoic. "Big deal." He finally spat. "So you made a mistake. Not as if it was the first mistake in this war, won't be the last. Good to have high standards, but believe me if you let every little thing upset them..."

Nova paused. "This is getting us no where."

"Look, Bumblebee. Regardless of how you feel inside, I can promise you that there are others who have been through worse and they still get up and shake off the rust and get on with their lives." Grabbing the smaller mechanism by the arm, Nova Strike gave a quick tug away from the cot and spun him towards the stack of data slates leading towards the door. Now he was between the spy and his security blanket. "And its time you do the same."

"Whatever you may personally think about me, but I'll be damned if I allow someone who had Prime's respect become nothing more than a withered rusted pile of debris that suffocates on his own self pity." His iron grasp released the mech and his arms folded across his broad thick armored chest. "I spent too many cycles in Kaon to see that scrap happen." His fingers tapped across his left shoulder.

"Now, time for you to get back to the land of the living."

Corridor Outside Docking Tunnel to Ark-19

Smokescreen smiled when Tracer spoke of how Razr was doing, the little turbofox spending most of his time in sleep mode with little else to do on board the Guardian. Smokey’s grin then widened some more as she seemed to change her mind about them parting ways. However, instead of agreeing to join him on the Ark-19, she counter-proposed that he take a break from his repair work and go with her to visit Razr. The offer was enticing, especially when she looked at him with those seductive optics of hers. How could the diversion expert resist?

“I suppose I could use a short break,” Smokescreen agreed as he looked back down the docking tunnel to the opposite side where his comrades had now disappeared from sight. Realizing they had gone on without him, Smokey returned his gaze to Tracer, her warm but troubled features still there to greet him. “Besides, with Hoist now lending a hand, the repair team should be okay without me for a little while, but not too long. I don’t want to leave them hanging. There’s plenty of work that needs to be done over there.”

The red and blue rallybot's facial expression then became a bit more serious as he stared back into those welcoming optics. Smokescreen took Tracer’s left hand in his right, allowing their actuators to lace together. “Of course, you’re well being is far more important to me than some ship,” he said in a thoughtful tone before his face plate relaxed again, revealing another smile. “No begging required.”

Personal Quarters – Bumblebee

Bumblebee kept his ground as he listened to everything Nova had to say. The minibot looked away more than once, but he still felt as though he was to blame. But what made him finally stop and actually think about what Nova was saying, Bumblebee’s mouth dropped open slightly. He was absolutely right; there were others who had been through situations that they felt rivaled his own. For a moment Bumblebee thought about what Hex had been through. It wasn’t enough the youngling had been captured, but to watch as the rest of his team was tortured and then killed in front of him must have been more than he could take.

To top that Hex had escaped only to be caught again by that…that thing they called a ‘Con. Poor kid couldn’t even get away fast enough before his spinal structure was severed. The only luck he had that day had been when Axle showed up to help.

Bumblebee shook his head in disgrace. Who was he to load himself with self-pity when there were others who had had it worse. Bee perked up slightly when he was tugged away from the berth and was guided toward the door. The yellow mech looked at his arm and back up at Nova when he mentioned Prime’s name. It had taken him a long time, but he did earn Prime’s respect and the others as well.

With his head hung low, Bumblebee finally responded to everything Nova had said.

“You’re right. I have no right to wallow in here while I could be doing something to help end this war.”

Bumblebee raised his head until he was looking Nova in the optics.

“It’s time I got back into the game.”

With that said Bee offered Nova Strike his hand and a smile.

“Thanks for putting things in to perspective.”

Corridor outside Docking Tunnel to Ark -19

The smile Tracer had on her face widened when Smokey accepted her proposal to accompany her to check on Razr, but the feel of his hand take hold of hers made her break optic contact giving the opportunity to watch as their actuators intertwined.

She didn't want to seem too surprised at the gesture, but it was extremely difficult. They hadn’t been this close since they bid one another goodbye back on Cybertron. The thought of that day brought out a heavy sigh as she lifted her head to look back into his optics.

With his last statement she brightened and gave him a delighted response of, “I’ll remember that.”

Tracer motioned toward the adjoining corridor headed away from the Ark – 19 before she led the way to her quarters.

Personal Quarters

Tracer had entered the security code and waited a moment until the door slid open revealing a small space that looked as though a tornado hit it. On the small desk next to the equally small berth lay piles of datapads, half of them still activated. Scattered on the floor near the desk were a few empty energon cubes, a few just half full.

The blue and white femme offered her guest a sheepish smirk before she untwined their actuators and sprang into action trying desperately to straighten things so they would be somewhat presentable.

“Sorry about the mess, but I usually don’t have anyone over…ever.”

She let out a light chuckle before she looked over her shoulder. She returned to her work placing the half empty energon cubes into the recycling receptacle and piling the datapads neatly on the corner of her desk.

After completing her task she turned her attention to the wall next to the berth. She sat down and swung her legs over to the opposite side. Tracer then reached a hand down where Razr was deep in recharge. She gave him a gentle pat to the head and whispered into his audio.

“Rise and shine. I brought someone to see you.”

It took little time for the turbofox to online and hop up onto the berth next to his friend. His head tilted to one side as he took in Smokescreen’s form. Tentatively, the creature jumped down and padded slowly over to the diversion expert.

Tracer watched carefully as Razr made his way to Smokey’s feet and took a few sniffs. A smile grew on her face as she swung her legs back over to the other side of the berth and studied her friends’ behavior. It didn’t take long before the little turbofox had taken a seat in front of the red and blue mech and placed a paw on his foot.

“He remembers you.”

Tracer got off the berth and made her way to the two old friends, a broad smile spread on her face. It was hard to believe that the two most important things in her life were now with her. Shaking her head in still disbelief, Tracer came to stand in front of Smokescreen.

“Thanks for coming. And don’t worry, I won’t keep you long.”

She gazed into his optics before she gently ran the back of her hand over his cheek.

“I still can’t believe you were here all this time.”

Bounce Chamber

The platform came to life once more only to power down moments later revealing the group of Autobots that had been dispatched to stop the Seekers in Iran. The uneasy feeling after bounces had no effect on the CMO as he became used to the sensation over the vorns.

Ratchet looked to Ironhide and then to the others. Each one of them needed some kind of repair work. Shaking his head, the medic grabbed a hold of Silverbolt's upper arm and forcefully tugged the Aerialbot commander after him.

"Come on everybody. No use wasting our time here."

He spared the team an irritated glare before he let out a heavy sigh.

"You know, you all are lucky I've go the likes of First Aid and Axle to help me put you back together. After this you better thank them for their hard work."

Bounce Chamber

As the light dissipated, Warpath emerged in the chamber along with the other Autobots. In his weakened state the crimson warrior was unable to stay standing from the dizziness. Rather than falling face first, Warpath managed to go to his knees to save some level of dignity.

"Rrrgh, BLAM, that was worse going up than going down!", the tank-bot complained.

Warpath slowly, but surely got up to his feet, and per doctor's orders headed right for the med-bay. It was slow going, even slower than normal with his limp. Despite this he had no desire to ask Hardhead, Ironhide, or especially Slingshot for help. If he could walk under his own power, regardless of how difficult, he would make it on his own.

"POW, believe me Ratchet, I'll give all the thanks I can give.", Wapath replied, "In fact as soon as my cannon's replaced, WHAM a round of energon's on me."


----------------


Mess Hall

With a motion from Grimlock, Sludge stopped stomping the chair, though it didn't fully calm the large dinobot much. Though he kepted quiet as the higher ranking Autobots talked, he wouldn't be satisfied as long as a weaker mech like Prowl was bossing them around. The strategist's words only managed to confuse and further upset him.

"Not make sense to Sludge, either", the jungle warrior agreed with Snarl, "Me Sludge don't care who Prowl thinks should be leader. Me Sludge only follow orders from Grimlock."

With that Sludge folded his arms and looked over to the Dinobot commander. He waited for Grimlock to say or do something, hopefully taking control or taking the Dinobots out of this long meeting to do their own thing like they had always done. But regardless of what Grimlock decided, Sludge would follow.

Med Bay

When First Aid had responded to his query, the blue mech gave him a grateful smile. The fact that First Aid had accepted his help gave the blue warrior a little hope that he actually might be of use. Besides, if the medibot hadn't accepted Tracks' help, the image of Axle's mangled innards would haunt him until he received good news. That was another thing to appreciate.

 Arriving at First Aid's side, Tracks turned to the medi-bot, cocked his head, and asked-

"What do you need me to do first?" 

Corridor Outside Docking Tunnel to Ark-19

“I’m sure you will,” Smokescreen said, smiling, happy that the depression had faded from Tracer’s facial expression. Their hands still interlaced, she led him down an adjoining corridor towards her own personal quarters where her pet turbofox would be waiting. He felt bad about leaving the repair team without his assistance for a short while, but he would make up some excuse for his brief absence once he returned. Perhaps he would bring something useful with him that he could say he needed. Although, with the sheer amount of equipment the drones had brought over, it was unlikely he’d be able to find anything that the repair crew didn’t already have at their disposal. Still, it was hard for him to leave Tracer so soon after finding her again.

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Once they had reached her quarters, the Autobot femme punched in the appropriate codes with her free hand and then guided Smokescreen inside her cramped and very cluttered room. She untwined their actuators and made her way over to her desk as she apologized for the mess. “Don’t worry about it, Tracer,” Smokey replied with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure my quarters have about an inch or more of dust accumulation since I’m barely ever there.” The diversion expert then thought for a moment, bringing his hand up to his chin. “You know, in all honesty, I don’t think I even remember where my quarters are on this ship. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever even been there yet!”

The rallybot laughed, allowing his hand to drop to his side again and shaking his cranial unit at the same time. He had only been on the Guardian since the Battle of Mount St. Helens and then after that he was assigned to the repair team of the Ark-19. Besides a short stint in a CR chamber when he first arrived, the most rest Smokey had seen was when he was in the mess hall with Jazz and Bumblebee just before the minibot lost it thanks in no small part to Hex. All those factors probably also contributed to why he and Tracer had not found one another until now.

Smokescreen then watched as Tracer sat down on the berth and awoke Razr from his stasis nap. The cute little turbofox swiftly jumped up next to the femme and immediately took notice of the diversion expert standing a short distance away. Razr then jumped down and cautiously approached him, stopping at the street racer’s feet before lowering his tiny head to give a few inquisitive sniffs. Astroseconds later, Razr sat down and placed one paw on Smokey’s right foot. It was a gesture that the diversion specialist remembered, one that meant the turbofox not only recognized him but liked him, as well.

“Hey there, little guy,” Smokescreen said in a quiet tone as he bent down and petted Razr on top of his head. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as adorable as ever.” Once he was finished, the rallybot straightened his stance just as Tracer had gotten off the berth and walked over to stand in front of him. She thanked him for coming and promised not to keep him from his duties for too long. His optics flickered slightly as Tracer ran the back of her hand down his face plate. Smokey reached up and gently took her hand again in his own, looking back into her optics as she gazed into his.

“I know,” Smokescreen responded to her last statement. “I should’ve checked the roster when I first boarded after the St. Helens battle. Dealing with the loss of Optimus was very hard for me as I was closer to him than most mechs realize. I had so much to internally process that I didn’t even think to....” Smokey’s words trailed off briefly as his optics fell to the floor. “Then there was the incident with Hex and....well, it’s not worth repeating.” His optics returned to Tracer’s. “The important thing is that we found one another again. That’s all that matters now.”

Bounce Chamber

Hardhead materialized on the bounce pad with the rest of his banged up team. His back still ached from where his cannon had once been, but it was nothing to complain about. At least this time he still had his cranial unit attached and was standing under his own power. A short stint in a CR chamber was all he really needed and it was a good thing, too, because Ratchet sounded irritated that he had to patch up as many Autobots as there were currently in the room.

“Relax, Ratchet,” the war veteran said with a frown etched across his faceplate. “You and the other medics can focus on the rest. A CR chamber will do me just fine.” Hardhead then stepped off the bounce pad and steadied himself from the uneasy feeling associated with breaking down and reassembling one’s molecules. His internal heads-up display registered that he was low on energon which was probably why he hadn’t yet shaken off the bounce effects as was usually the case with him. It didn’t matter since the large Autobot warrior wasn’t about to show such a weakness to the others, regardless of Warpath's own complaints about the trip back. Instead, Hardhead maintained a steady stance as he slowly made his way out of the chamber and into the corridor beyond.

Personal Quarters: Bumblebee

Nova Strike smirked with a satisfied grin. "Now that is what I like to hear." He tucked his arms across his broad chest and nodded. He then released his pose and stepped forward towards the door.

He paused briefly before he tossed a quick glance over towards the orbital view of the view port and the burnt and bent hull plates of the wounded Ark-19. "A bitter reminder of what we've lost so far." A piece of broken gun turret snapped off from its moorings held in place by a series of damaged cables.

"I suppose Bumblebee, if we really want to get you back in the game we should focus on repairing the damage done." He chuckled lightly inwardly dreading the idea of being stuck on basic engineering duty again. Still it was better than just sitting around rusting away.

"Lets get over to the 19. I am sure they will appreciate all the help they can get." He rested his hand on the smaller mech's shoulder plate. He released his reassuring grip and activated a pair of comm links on his right wrist. Tapping in a few commands, Nova Strike activated a link patching him into the main dispatch system. At least now they would be on the short list of deploy-able mechanisms. Once done he proceeded towards the hall. "After you Sir."

Corridors

The mechanical timber wolf slinked through the hallways silently as he kept his head down low in order to best track the designated scent he had been following all the way from the Ark-22. It was not a hard task to accomplish, not for him anyway. It was what a hunter like himself did best and one of the primary reasons why many Autobots tolerated his presence amongst their ranks. It certainly was not because of trust. With the exception of one aged warhorse, most would rather avoid the predatory beast than be associated with the likes of him.

Coming to the entrance of the mess hall, the green and black quadruped sniffed around the doors before they registered his presence and parted. The creature peered inside and immediately caught sight of Kup, Prowl and the entirety of the Dinobots. They appeared to be in deep discussions regarding the leadership issue and those talks seemed intense to say the least. Instead of entering, the four-legged tracker backed away, allowing the doors to close again before he was noticed. The scent had led him here, but his prey was not present amongst those in the mess hall. The mech in question had been here not long ago but then left, moving down the corridor in the direction of the frigate's medical bay.

Interesting. Perhaps he’s finally going to get those loose screws in his processor tightened, the beast mused with a chuckle before continuing to follow the odor left behind by the one he was seeking. The robotic wolf quickened his pace and soon rounded a corner where the back of his flame-covered target soon came into view. The Autobot hunter stopped and raised his head up, a slight snarl escaping his snout. The red and orange mech was walking down the hallway like he owned the place, seemingly unaware of who had been stalking him this entire time.

Transforming to robot mode, Howlstrike stepped forward, allowing his footfalls to echo through the wide corridor. He was not concerned about being detected as he wanted the self-proclaimed Prime to know he was now there. When Rodimus had first left the bridge of the Ark-22, Howl did not immediately notice due to him being in a deep state of meditation. However, once the tracker’s optics had on-lined a few cycles later, not only was Hot Rod gone but so was Bluestreak. He never thought the two were together as their scents parted in different directions the moment Howl had stepped off the bridge. His concerns, of course, lay not with the gunner, but with the flamed Autobot and what he was up to. Therefore, Howl had tracked Rodimus across the docking tunnel, leading him into the Guardian and the current hallway they were both now standing in.

“Rodimus,” Howlstrike called out to him, the former Predacon's gruff voice not hiding the suspicion he had for his deranged comrade. “Where are you going? Kup and the others are back that way. Why did you leave the meeting prematurely?”

Med Bay

With Tracks in, First Aid wouldn’t have too much of a problem getting the large amount of damage to Axle done before he placed him in a CR chamber. Without a word, First Aid gave a small nod in Track’s direction before he reached over the field medic’s body and activated the privacy screen to the surgical area. Hopefully that would deter anyone who arrived from getting too curious as to what was going on.

Placing his free hand back into Axle’s chest cavity, First Aid motioned to the warrior with his chin.

“I’m going to need that spanner. It’s on the tray near the cabinet. After that I’ll need you to help me crack the rest of his chest plate open.”

Corridor

From the bounce chamber Ratchet led the wounded band of soldiers down the short maze of corridors to the Med Bay where he knew First Aid and Axle would be waiting. With any luck they wouldn’t be busy with other repairs and could help get this ragtag group back in working condition.

Med Bay

The doors opened with a slight audible hiss revealing the form of the chief CMO and the small band of injured ‘Bots. He took a long look around before he stepped in. No one was in sight which he found odd. Cautiously Ratchet moved further in and finally stopped in his tracks. From behind the privacy screen in the surgical area he could see a slight outline of First Aid and another mech.

Not sure what was going on Ratchet hesitated to advance further. The sound of crunching metal caught his audios making him lunge forward and call for the Protectobot doctor.

“First Aid! What’s going on…”

Before First Aid could respond Ratchet had made it behind the screen and ready to ask his same question as before, but the sight before him brought a surprised expression to his face.

“Dear Primus! What the slag happened?!”

First Aid spared the CMO a quick glance before he looked back down and returned to his work, but that didn’t stop him from giving Ratchet a full report.

“The group that was sent to the refinery in Kansas went up against the Stunticons. From the looks of Axle’s injuries Motormaster must have gotten to him. His spark chamber is still intact, thank Primus, but the severity of the bleeding is steadily draining his reserves. If I can only…”

There was a snap that was quickly followed by a click and First Aid raised his head again to look at Ratchet. A quick smile came to the CMO’s face.

“Can you take care of him?”

“Yeah, I…I think so. Tracks has been giving me a hand, so I think I’ve got it.”

“Good. I’ve got a small group that needs to be tended to, but once I’m done I’ll come and help you out. Keep his energon levels up and make sure his vitals don’t…”

“…Drop below 1200 volts.”

“Good. You make sure you call me, for anything. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

Ratchet gave the doctor a satisfied nod and made his way back around the privacy screen to address the others from the Iranian battle.

“Alright everybody, find a seat and I’ll get started.”

Personal Quarters: Bumblebee

Bumbebee stared up at the towering form of Nova Strike before he nodded and flashed him a smile followed by an affirmative nod. The minibot moved past Nova and exited his room. Maybe now he could do something to better the groups’ outcome. He only hoped that he could now make a difference in this war and not hinder it in any way.

Bumblebee moved past the now open doors and into the corridor. He stopped for a moment and looked back to Nova Strike.

“Has there been a decision made concerning who would take Prime’s place?”

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

The explanation Smokescreen had been trying to blurt out was actually getting lost in the translation, and to tell the truth the femme could care less the reasoning behind them not seeing one another earlier, all that mattered now was they were together now.

She gave him a reassuring smile before she reached up and place her hand gently on his cheek. After all this time it still felt the same, but what did she expect.

“I know how you feel. I never knew Optimus, in fact I never even got a chance to meet him in person, but I still feel as though I was close to him. Losing him…things will be so different now.”

An uneasy smile made it back to her face as she looked back down at Razr, who had finally removed his paw form Smokescreen’s foot. The turbofox had then moved to lay under her desk as the two got too close for his comfort.

After a moment she moved her gaze from her pet back up to Smokescreen’s bright blue optics. They were still full of optimism; she only hoped he saw the same, but the guilt of keeping something from him was weighing her, feigning optimism was a dying art to her now.

Not wanting him to question her about her affliction, Tracer ran her hand from his cheek and let it settle on his chest.

“That is all that matters.” She whispered to him before leaning in and lightly kissing him.

Corridors

Rodimus had not made very much leeway on convincing Prowl that he was the next Prime, that he was the one chosen by Optimus Prime. But it didn’t really matter. He was here for another purpose, and he would not stop now.

You have to know they’ll find out what’s going on. And once they do they will stop you.

There will be nothing to fear, young one. Your medics will find only you occupying this body, the way it should be, and how it will always be.

Rodimus stopped for a moment as he already felt the presence of Howlstrike behind him. Without turning to look back at the tracker, Rodimus addressed him.

“You followed me. I’m not surprised. You have always been quite cunning Howlstrike.”

Finally turning to face his pursuer, Rodimus offered the former Predacon an approving smile. His questions were not at all surprising, nothing was surprising to him.

“I am going to see Ratchet in the med bay for a full work up.”

Rodimus stepped closer to the tracker, but not so close as to provoke him. After all he did not want a confrontation, not now.

“As for why I left the meeting prematurely…I want to put everyone’s’ minds at ease. I want them to know I was chosen, and that, if given the opportunity, I will prove it. Now I am taking the first step by satisfying their curiosity and to their fears.”

The flame emblazoned mech gave the tracker a warm smile before he turned back around.

“You may accompany me if you wish. If not only to satisfy your curiosity.”

Bounce Chamber

Ironhide grunted as he materialized on the platform. He never much liked bouncing around like that. It always felt like some pieces of him never quite got put together right. Still, it was a darn fast and convenient way to travel, you just couldn’t argue that. He just hoped that he wouldn’t lose any irreplaceable parts in the process.

Still holding his arm he followed after Ratchet and the others as they made their way to the repair bay.

*

Hot Spot materialized on the platform and did his best to shake off the disorienting effects as he reached down to scoop up Hex in his arms. “Alright, those of you less damaged help those who are in worse shape. We’ll all head down to the repair bay together. Even if you think you’re fine I’m sure First Aid will insist on checking you over completely.” He gave a small smile at the thought of the team’s doctor before carefully carrying the smaller Autobot out of the room.

*

Med Bay

Ironhide was sitting patiently while the docs worked on some other Bot who was in far worse shape then any of them. He didn’t know the bot personally but he was apparently a part of the other team that went down to Earth. It wasn’t exactly any consolation to hear that his team hadn’t gotten as bad a beating as they did.

The red mech looked up as Hot Spot and his group entered the room. His frown deepened as he saw how badly the rest of them had gotten it. The Protectobot leader himself was carrying another bot that was in stasis lock. He let out a quiet sigh. He sure as slag could use one of Optimus’s stirring speeches right about now.

*

“First Aid! We have more wounded!” Hot Spot quickly walked over to another repair bay and gently placed Hex in it. He turned back to where First Aid was working on Axle. “How is Axle? Hex is in bad shape too. No one else in the group is in critical shape, and I don’t think Hex is as bad as Axle,” he sighed as he ran a hand over his head, “but its bad.”

Hallway

Nova relinquished a brief smile and salute as he gave a closing command to the personnel quarters computer system. The lights flickered to their standby settings and many of the terminals went from their live feeds back to inactive status. He pivoted around on his heel in the darkened chamber and walked out into the hallway leading towards the primary deck lift that would take them to the central deck and more specifically the docking levels where they had connected with the wounded Ark-19.

The hydraulic doors his closed behind the duo as they began walking towards the primary spine of the deck. He looked down at Bumblebee briefly as the smaller officer asked him a rather loaded question. "Decided on the next Prime?" He repeated back the question and let it hang in the air as they came to the intersection. Nova tapped a few commands into the barracks computer telling the sensor system on watch that he was now heading to another part of the ship rather than accepting his rather boring rest cycle. Ratchet would probably have his fenders again, but he had been stuck onboard ship for so long, he doubted any problems would come of it.

Again he faced the lift and paused. "No, I doubt they ever will decided on who the next Prime is. To be honest, I don't think anyone could ever decide on who a Prime will be. It is not a title or rank that can just be given out. It has to be earned." He resumed leading the way towards the lift.

A few long strides and the double doors to the turbolift slid open with a barely audiable hiss. "To be honest, if its a bid between Prowl and Grimlock, I doubt we will remain united long enough for a Cybertronian to rise to claim that position. Still Bumblebee, if we are wondering who will take command... we may as well put it to a vote. Can't do worse than two egos battling it out behind close doors now can we?"

"Computer. Docking Section."

Bounce Chamber

Before he was fully aware of it, Blades was back on board the Guardian, having materialised on the bounce chamber's platform. His thoughts had been largely comprised of the blazes he had been battling, but the bounce's effects acted like a powerful cleaning solution, washing away his previous reflections, and replacing them with more critical matters to focus on. Sprints requiring immediate medical attention was one of them.

Heeding Hot Spot's new instructions, Blades sought after Sprints. He had procured very little damage during their mission, and it was contained within his leader's words that any Autobots still displaying satisfactory physical ability were to assist those whose conditions were less than favourable. To Blades, this was standard procedure, a natural order from Hot Spot, and he was going to carry it out with all the professionalism and efficiency he had always demonstrated ever since resolving to become a Protectobot.

He carefully gathered up Sprints' broken form and began making his way to the repair bay. “All righty, let's get you all patched up so you can shred some useless 'Cons again. The more of us to wipe those fraggers out, the better.”

Med Bay

Trailing Hot Spot, Blades entered the repair bay with Sprints. Quickly discovering a vacant berth, he carefully deposited the Autobot on it, throwing a glance at First Aid while doing so. More wounded were due to arrive momentarily, proposing a bustling scene of activity was about to dominate the relative calm and controlled environment the medics had been working in.

Med Bay

Hardhead entered the medical bay where all of the wounded Autobots from both the Iranian and Kansas teams had gathered waiting to receive their repairs. Some were in worse shape than others, such as Axle and Hex. The green warrior was one of the lucky ones due mainly to his size and thick armor plating. He wasn’t very agile and thus he got hit often, but fortunately his body was more than capable of absorbing a wide variety of enemy fire.

Having no interest in waiting in line for Ratchet or First Aid to get around to fixing him, Hardhead simply approached one of the empty CR chambers and set the repair sequence for himself. Considering his back-mounted cannon had been completely obliterated, leaving a gaping hole where it once was, the medical appendages within the chamber would likely take several cycles to complete all of the necessary work to make the veteran soldier whole again. That suited Hardhead just fine as he was looking forward to a little R&R in the meantime. Stepping into the CR unit, the green mech situated himself into position and relaxed, allowing his optics to off-line as the door hissed shut and the repairs began.

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Smokescreen listened as Tracer spoke of never having met Optimus and then nodded in agreement that things would be very different now that he was gone. “Yes, I'm afraid things will never be the same again,” Smokey began to say as he watched the femmebot peer down at Razr. The turbofox had removed his paw from the diversionary expert’s foot and retreated to a place underneath her desk where the little guy seemed more comfortable than being stuck between two affectionate mechs.

“It’s a shame you never met Prime,” the rallybot continued. “Admittedly, he could be very intimidating at first sight, but once you got to know him as I did, he was actually very easy to relate to. He truly cared about every Autobot under his command, no matter how small, and it always pained him to send anyone into a battle where he knew there would be casualties.”

Smokescreen stopped himself as he had begun to ramble on and on as though he was Bluestreak. “I'm sorry, Tracer. I got lost in my memory banks for a moment.” His full attention was drawn back to her as she peered into his optics once more before running her hand down from his cheek and resting it carefully on his chest plate. After whispering to him, she leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss. Smokey’s internal fans kicked on as his circuits began to heat up. His smile widened as he pulled the femme closer and returned her affection with a kiss of his own.

Corridors

Howlstrike’s optics narrowed as Rodimus spoke, giving his reasoning for leaving the meeting with Prowl and the others early. The tracker had to admit, it did make a bit of sense. However, he doubted that it was Hot Rod’s initial idea to go see Ratchet as Prowl’s sense of logic would have surely demanded actual facts and not just the flamed mech’s word that he had been chosen by the matrix. In all actuality, Howl now wished he had accompanied Kup to the meeting as he would have very much enjoyed seeing the military strategist’s reaction to Hot Rod’s outlandish story. It must have truly been a sight to see.

“My curiosity is what led me here to you, and I have no intention of stopping now,” Howlstrike responded to Hot Rod’s offer to accompany him. Howl walked up alongside the fiery Autobot and glanced over at him as they continued their trek to the med bay. “Yes, Rodimus, you will have to prove yourself to everyone, especially to me. Actions speak louder than words as I’m sure you know. If you can show that you are what you say and have changed your reckless ways, then perhaps I’ll support you. Until such time, however, consider me unconvinced.”

Howlstrike continued to follow the self-proclaimed Prime, all the while sensing that something was just not right with the former cavalier. He couldn’t put a clawed actuator on it just yet, but he was certain that there was more than meets the optic with Rodimus. Yes, he said all the right things just like a good politician, but like most politicians the red and orange mech probably had something to hide. In this case, that something likely had to do with the true nature of his miraculous transformation. The hunter just needed to hang around the flame-covered Autobot long enough to hopefully figure out what was really going on before it was too late.