The Energon Pub

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Tracer nearly flinched at Smokescreen’s assessment of her piloting capabilities, but before she could protest explain that she could get the shuttle planet side, Smokescreen cut her off. His idea to pilot the shuttle but stay behind with it while on Earth was probably the only option she had if she was to receive his help.

She averted her optics and gave a reluctant nod of agreement. It was true she wanted him to be safe, but she also felt she could handle her dealing with Oil Slick as she had for many vorns already. The scout pressed into his hands as he gently caressed her left cheek. As he reassured her that he would be there for her, Tracer calmed further. Her tense posture slackened slightly as she tightened her hold around his waist. If only things were different. If only she could do this alone, then she wouldn’t have to worry that she was putting his life in danger. But for now those thoughts were muted and were replaced by a new one. If only she could stay in his arms.

Tracer pulled away, but only far enough to look up in to his bright blue optics.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, or worse. I care too much for you to let anything happen to you. So please, stay with the shuttle when we get down there.”

After a few more moments in his arms, Tracer pulled away completely and shakily stood up. She quickly placed a hand on the wall nearby to steady herself as she began to make her way to the desk where Razr was currently in recharge. Once she was standing in front of the desk she tuned slightly to look at the diversionary tactician.

“I’ll need to contact him. But in order to do that I need to hide the signal. Bouncing it off of the human satellites will be the only way for me to get a signal to…”

Tracer caught herself before she revealed too much.

“When do you think you can secure a shuttle?”

Mess Hall

The smile across Bumblebee’s faceplate grew exponentially when the old warhorse clapped him on the shoulder and offered a warm greeting. Just seeing Kup again reassured the minibot that things were going to be alright. With the likes of the warrior on hand there was a strong possibility that the instability amongst the masses would be satiated.

Once he knew that he wasn’t interrupting anything important Bumblebee took a seat at the table. The subject of some new form of energon had already begun when he and Nova Strike had arrived. It was the ranger that had spoken first with his concerns for this so called new energon.

Bumblebee sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin in thought as Prowl spoke. The mention of Shockwave didn’t surprise the minibot in the least. It was Shockwave who had always been the bane of this war. With his experimentations and inventions, the cycloptic mech has drawn a bullseye and it was painted directly over his spark chamber.

“What if…what if Shockwave intends to use this enhanced energon for something other than super charging the Decepticon troops? What if he was planning to bring what Cybertron was here to this planet?“

Bumblebee leaned forward, his hands folded and placed on the table in front of him. With Shockwave once imprisoned here on Earth with the likes of Grimlock and his Dinobots, and then the Military Operations Commander unusual behavior on Cybertron…well it begged to be looked into.

“If Shockwave was on Cybertron experimenting with something located below Iacon…then maybe our first step should be to find out what he wanted there. Once we know that then we can figure out just how this new energon factors in.”

Bumblebee looked to Kup before he went on.

“Kup, did the ‘Cons up there do anything else besides come to Iacon to ask for permission to head underground there? I mean it seems strange that he would only want to head underground just in Iacon.”

Med Bay

Ratchet finally pulled his hand from the gaping hole in Hex’s chest and grabbed a cleaning cloth from the nearby equipment tray and shook his head in bewilderment as he began to wipe the energon and fuel from his hands. It wasn’t nearly as much as he had expected, which was odd.

“I don’t get it. With that type of wound the kid should have bled out more than this.”

The medic pondered the situation while Rodimus finished up sealing the smaller wounds on Hex’s frame. The CMO’s attention remained fixated on the youngling as he tossed the cleaning cloth back down onto the tray. Rodimus looked up and flashed Ratchet a reassuring smile. The medic needed to be assured that it was his expertise that saved the life of this mech and nothing more.

“Ratchet, as a medic yours is not to ask how or even why, but to ensure that your patients live through it. And from the looks of things, you’ve succeeded in that endeavor.”

Walking around the repair table Rodimus came to stand in front of the medic and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll be fine, thanks to you, and in the end, that’s all that matters.”

Ratchet looked up to the much taller mech and gave him a reluctant smile. A speech like that was not something he expected from a mech like Hot Rod. Things certainly had changed since he and the others left for Cybertron.

“What did you come in here for anyway, Hot Rod?”

“I’m here for some tests. Prowl has requested that you run them in order to prove I am who I say I am.”

“Hrm. Can’t say I blame him. But right now isn’t the best time.”

Rodimus nodded in understanding and took a cursory look around the facility. He stopped when the CR chambers came into his view. There. He could sense it. The next mech he needed to see and speak with. Breaking his attention and bringing it back to the CMO, Rodimus motioned to the inert form of Hex.

“Now that he’s stable is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

He looked to the chambers and motioned to them with a jerk of his chin.

“Perhaps I can monitor the CR chambers. Once one of their occupants emerges they will need help, and you’ll still need to run tests to be sure they are at their peak.”

Ratchet stared at the chambers for a moment before he nodded.

“Yeah. Alright. Just don’t mess with the cycles. Got that?”

Rodimus smiled in response and headed to the row of regenerative devices. He stopped in front of Warpath’s chamber and stared at the mech within. No. Not him. The flame emblazoned mech checked the readout taking note that its cycle would be complete in several more breems. His repairs were taking nicely, which meant that the tank-former would be fully functional once he emerged.

From Warpath’s chamber Rodimus moved on to Hardhead’s. Once in front of it he placed a hand on the glass. A broad smile spread over his face as he leaned in close. This time he never even uttered a word to the mech inside. Instead he let the mech know who he would become in time. Rodimus reached out with his consciousness and addressed Hardhead.

You are the second, Hardhead. You will be healed, but your spark will be mine, and when I finally call, you will come.

The smile on Rodimus’ faceplate faded as he moved to console and looked at the readout. The green mech’s vitals were increasing slowly. Instead of him remaining in the chamber for another cycle, Hardhead would emerge in mere breems.

Mess Hall

"Well isn't that just swell." Nova spoke as he offered a brief shrug of resignation. He pivoted on his heel and made his way to the nearest Energon Ration dispenser. The ranger tapped in his particular make and model into the computer and waited for the system to process the proper formula chains into the optimal Energon grade. Without offering a glance backwards to the gathered trio, Nova Strike placed his hand identification on the sensor pad to confirm the order. "I don't doubt they will try to over energize some of their more potent combat forces. The Combaticons and Terrorcons are the first groups that come to mind as potential prospects for being as the terrains say, 'Roided Up.'"

The dispenser beeped indicating that it had completed the order and slid back the access panel. Nova Strike reached in and took hold of the glowing amber canister. Pivoting back towards the table, the ranger took a swig of the warm Energon. He allowed the energy to flow into his systems and race towards his storage batteries.

Not the best swill he had ever tasted, but it would do. Synthetic never had the same bite as the natural stuff. But Nova didn't mind. After spending decacycles on the Nova Cronum circuit, living off of nothing but Cybertonium Laced Energon... for the purity of the race, Nova could handle the bitter taste of what he had been given access to.

"So the cons are making headway in the department of Enhanced Fuels. Who knows what other nice and nifty little surprises they have cooking up in old Blinky's cranial processor." Nova Strike took the fourth seat near Bumblebee and opposite Prowl. He set his container of energon down onto the table, his fingers slowly releasing their grip on the partial cylinder. His optics darted over to the elder soldier, Kup and offered a brief nod of respect. He knew full well that any and all suspicions regarding the validity of the information given to them by Blinky had been gone over just by that one mechanism alone, it did Nova good to know he did not have to rehash old debates. He returned his optics back to Prowl.

"I already know the answer to the question of 'What do we have in the works,' so I won't bother delving into that subject. The more appropriate question from my perspective is, what do we do to prevent these cons from completing their research and turning this new found aggression against us. And further more, who will lead such an operation once one is finalized?"

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Smokescreen let out a faint smile when Tracer nodded in agreement to allow him to pilot the shuttle down to the surface. He knew that she thought she could handle things herself, but he wasn’t so sure. Granted, her condition had improved somewhat over the past few breems, but it wasn’t good enough as far as Smokey was concerned. One wrong maneuver and the shuttle could burn up in the atmosphere and take her with it. Not to mention what if something went wrong when she met with her dealer? The rallybot needed to be close enough to her to act quickly if she needed his help. No, it was safer if he came along to ensure that she would make it down and back in one piece.

“Don’t worry, Tracer, I’ll be fine. I’m a big mech, I can take care of myself. But, I promise, I’ll wait with the shuttle until you return,” Smokescreen assured her as she remained in his arms a little longer before pulling away from him and carefully walking over to her desk, using the wall to steady herself. The diversion expert almost got up to help her when she turned back towards him and mentioned how she would have to contact her dealer by bouncing a signal off of several satellites that orbited around Earth. At one point she almost gave away who her dealer was but then caught herself mid sentence. She quickly changed the subject by asking him how long it would take to get a shuttle ready.

“Well, like I said, we can’t launch a shuttle from here, not with Blaster monitoring things. The shuttle bay of the Ark-22 will have plenty available to us. We just have to go and take one,” Smokescreen answered Tracer as he stood to his full height and walked over to where she was in front of her desk. He placed one hand on her forearm and looked deep into her optics. “But first I need to pick up a few things we’ll need from Wheeljack’s old lab over on the Ark-19. It shouldn’t take me too long. I just have to avoid the repair crew. If they see me, I’ll have to come up with some new excuse as to why I can’t rejoin them. But, let me worry about that. Just stay here in the interim and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Smokescreen then reached up and caressed the side of Tracer’s faceplate with the hand that had just been on her forearm. He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss that lasted several astroseconds before pulling back and flashing her a reassuring smile. “Everything will be fine. Trust me.” The diversion expert then turned towards the door and approached the control pad on the wall. After punching a few buttons, the door slid open and Smokey stepped out into the corridor. He gave one last glance back at the troubled femme before disappearing from sight.

Mess Hall

Prowl sighed again as Bumblebee took a seat, effectively joining the meeting just as Hot Rod and the Dinobots had invited themselves to the proceedings earlier. So much for being top secret if they were going to share vital info with any mech that came strolling though the area. As it were, the military strategist had no choice now but to listen to the minibot surmise as to what Shockwave’s real motives were. He was suggesting that maybe the one-eyed ‘Con had something else in mind than just energizing their warriors.

“You’re referring to cyberforming,” Prowl responded to Bumblebee. The black and white had to admit, the little ‘Bot might actually be on to something, but at this moment it was just conjecture with no real proof to back it up. “It’s possible this new energon, once refined, could be used for such a thing. However, it would require a cyberforming machine of some kind to change any world into something more like home. As of right now, we have no credible evidence to suggest the Decepticons have such a device.”

The military analyst looked over at Kup once Bumblebee had finished asking the old timer another question, this time regarding Shockwave’s excursion into Iacon. Not waiting for the aged mech to answer, Prowl interjected his own response. “We’ll know more about that once the data Shockwave shared is transferred over from the Ark-22, isn’t that right, Kup?”

Prowl’s attention was then drawn once again to Nova Strike, who had now taken a seat across from him, as well. The black and white couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be until the entire crew aboard the Guardian was sitting around them. Giving up once and for all on the idea of a private conversation with Kup, Prowl regarded Nova with a nod. “Well, we need to find the ‘Cons first before we can conduct any kind of military operation against them. I have Blaster monitoring Earth’s communications for any signs of enemy activity. Meanwhile, the first thing I’m going to do after this meeting is concluded is debrief both Hot Spot and Ironhide. I want to know exactly what went on durning those missions and ascertain what information they were able to acquire, if anything. Perhaps it will give us a better idea as to what the Decepticons’ true motives were behind these simultaneous fuel raids. After that, I will check in on Perceptor’s progress regarding his research into this new energon. If we can beat the ‘Cons to the punch and safely power up our own troops, then it will be us that will have the advantage.”

Prowl then straightened in his chair as Nova Strike finished asking his last question about who exactly would lead any assault against the Decepticons. The military strategist could only give a knowing smile before responding. “Who will lead such a campaign against the enemy? Well, there’s only one mech I can think of for the job, and he’s currently on his way here right now.”

Corridors

Sludge smiled as he heard Grimlock's plan. The strongest leader with the strongest team would take command of the strongest battleship in the Autobot fleet- there was no way they could go wrong. Even if it required stealing another Autobot ship, Sludge was sure it would all work out and all those weakling, know-it-all Autobots like Prowl would realize how wrong they were. After all, Grimlock was the strongest, and Grimlock had come up with the idea.

"Me Sludge like this plan." the jungle warrior said with a grin.

Sludge was even more happy to hear that Snarl liked the plan just as much. Sludge could never really understand the desert warrior's recent disagreements with their leader, so to hear him agree with Grimlock now would make things a lot easier.

Before this could really start, though, Sludge would have to do as Grimlock said first; re-arm. Thankfully Snarl had offered to show the large Dinobot how to get to the armoury. Sludge followed behind his fellow Dinobot, loud stomps being heard through much of the hallway from the giant warrior's casual steps.

Sludge waited a moment as Snarl walked into the turbo lift. Sludge took a few seconds to look inside the turbo lift- though Snarl had assured him that there was enough room, Sludge was a little hesitant. After a few astroseconds Sludge carefully- or at least, as carefully as a clumsy, destructive 40 foot tall robot could be- squeezed himself into the turbo lift. His armor scrapped against the wall as he did his best to make some room between him and his fellow Dinobot, though it did little good. Sludge had managed to fit with Snarl, but as usual there was a great discomfort with the lack of room.

"Autobots don't build things in Dinobot sizes." Sludge grumbled as he waited for Snarl to press the button.


--------


Med Bay

Ironhide's arm was reconnected to his shoulder, all that was left for Groove now was to restore the severed cables. Groove had said nothing to the older mech as he did his repairs. Part of it was to keep focussed on the task at hand, though a larger part was Ironhide's earlier mention of stories about war wounds. The Protectobot scout had no desire to hear about those.

If only we didn't have reason for such stories. If only we didn't need these types of wounds.

After a few astroseconds Ironhide's arm was restored to the best of Groove's abilities. The scout keyed in a few commands into the repair station, causing the hydrolic clamp that had been holding Ironhide's arm into place to release the older mech's limb.

"Well, your arm didn't fall back off, so that's one thing I did right.", Groove tried to joke, "It should work fine, but I'd have First Aid or Ratchet take a look later, before you do anything too strenuous with it."

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

Saferoute's optics came back online as her repairs finished, the CR Chamber hissing open. She looked over herself- her yellow paintjob had been restored, her armor plating on her lower legs looked as good as new. Tentatively she raised her left leg, bracing herself as she took her first step out of the chamber.

To her relief there was no pain as he weight was distributed onto her foot. Nothing to worry about now, she stepped completely out of the chamber.

She looked around the Med Bay, seeing the wounded that were being treated- most expecially Axle, still being saved by First Aid. She couldn't help but feel a little shame toward her attitude. She more often worried about the weaker, organic species they encountered. It was easy for her to forget that, while far more durable, their kind were still far from invincible.

Looking over to the other CR Chambers, she noticed a tall, red and orange mech staring at one of the chambers. She didn't recognize him, but with all the comings and goings these days it was hard for anyone to keep track of who was where. He certainly didn't look like one of the medical staff, and considering his height was probably a high ranking officer. She walked behind the tall bot, looking to the side to see who was inside the chamber. It was Hardhead, one of the more rough soldiers.

"He's pretty tough, he should be fine in there, uh, sir, I guess." she said to Hot Rod.

Turbo Lift / Corridors

Snarl moved over as far as he could within the turbo lift as Sludge squeezed his way inside. His larger comrade was right. These lifts weren’t designed to hold multiple Dinobots at once. Thankfully, they wouldn’t have to be encased in such closed quarters for too long as the armory was only one level down. “Yeah, ship built for tiny weak Autobots, not big strong Dinobots!” the Desert Warrior agreed as he reache out with his right arm and pushed the button on the control panel. The door slid shut, followed by the low hum of the lift as it descended to the next deck.

Once it came to a stop, the doors parted again and Snarl wasted no time in exiting the cramped confines of the small compartment. He turned and motioned for Sludge to follow him as the Desert Warrior then maneuvered down the corridor towards the armory. After rounding a corner, Snarl approached his destination and waited for the doors to open. When the sensor didn’t register his presence right away, the plated Dinobot started banging on the doors until they finally slid apart, revealing the weapons and ammunition within.

“Stupid door. Need fixing,” Snarl muttered as he finally entered with Sludge presumably close behind.

Armory

Once he was inside the arms depot, Snarl was careful not to damage anything. Being that he was surrounded by a multitude of weapons, ammo and explosives, one wrong move could very well cripple the entire ship. Although, the Desert Warrior was rather large, Sludge was even bigger, not to mention far more clumsy than himself.

“Careful, Sludge,” Snarl warned his big comrade. “Knock into anything that go boom and we’ll all be slagged.” The Desert Warrior then turned his attention to locating more clips for his long-range laser rifle, searching some of the shelves closest to him for anything that would appear to fit inside his weapon. He always liked using his sword best as it allowed him to get up close and personal to the ‘Con he was about to eviscerate. Of course, the laser gun had it’s usefulness, too, if he was unable to get close enough to the enemy to stab them through the spark.

“So, Sludge, you like Grimlock’s plan to steal Ark-19, huh? Me, too,” Snarl said, attempting to make conversation with his big brother in arms. “Wonder how long it take for prick-bot Prowl to send someone after us once ship is ours. Probably not too long. Grimlock have to enter hyperspace quickly to avoid fight with Autobots. Prick-bot might chase us, himself, but me thinks he too scared and rather sit back on bridge and watch others do his bidding. What you think, Sludge?”

Corridors near Armory

Smokescreen had only left Tracer less than a breem ago and he was already missing her, which didn't help his worried spark. The femmebot’s condition was deteriorating rapidly whether she was willing to admit that fact or continue denying it. She needed more Syk, as much as it pained Smokey to admit. She required more of the drug to stay functioning or risk falling into permanent stasis or worse. Only being waned off the chemical over time would finally get her clean. Hopefully, once she was thinking more rationally, she would see that, as well.

It wasn’t just Tracer’s present state of mind that concerned the diversion expert, but how they would get off the ship undetected and then return again without anyone noticing. This of course was not to mention his concern for her safety once they were planet side and she was off to meet with her dealer while he remained at the shuttle. How exactly was she going to pay for the Syk? He hadn’t even considered that until now. Smokey had assumed she had credits, but how much? Would it even be enough to satisfy whatever ‘Con was down there? He didn’t like the situation, not at all. There were too many variables to consider and too many things that could go wrong. Smokey needed to be prepared for any eventuality and that meant being well armed just in case he needed to act whether she wanted him to or not.

As he approached the doors to the armory, Smokescreen noticed a large shape standing just inside the entrance. It appeared to be Sludge, one of the Dinobots, and it sounded as if another mech was speaking to him from further within the room. His curiosity getting the better of him, the diversion expert hugged the wall just out of sight and listened to what was being said. What he heard Snarl say made his spark almost skip a pulse.

The Dinobot’s are going to steal the Ark-19?! Are they crazy?! Smokey thought as he continued to listen while Snarl wondered about Prowl’s response to such a mutiny. Yeah, ol’ Prowler ain’t gonna like that one bit. He’ll probably focus all of his efforts to get them back....wait an astrosec. That’s it! Having heard enough, Smokescreen quickly moved back down the corridor and around a corner where he then stopped for a moment to consider what he had just learned. Any normal Autobot would take the newfound information straight to Prowl in order to avoid a potential disaster. However, Smokey was no ordinary Autobot and had big plans of his own.

This is just the break I need to get us to the surface, Smokescreen considered as he rubbed his chin guard in contemplation. Once the Dinobots steal the Ark-19, all of Prowl’s attention, along with the others, will be on stopping Grimlock and his cohorts, which will help make it easier for me and Tracer to slip out without being noticed. Perfect! I couldn't have come up with a better diversion myself! The rallybot was a shrewd mech, one who was willing to place Tracer’s interests above everyone else’s on board. She’s all that mattered to him right now, and he was willing to lie, cheat and steal for her and possibly even die for her if necessary. Basically, he was his old self again.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Smokescreen quickly moved down the corridor and headed for the docking tunnel that would lead him back over to the Ark-19. Now, not only did he have to hurry in order to avoid any of the repair crew from spotting him, but he also didn’t want to be caught on the 19 when the Dinobots took it over. Time was short, but Smokey still needed to retrieve a few gizmos from Wheeljack’s old lab that would hopefully come in handy as he and Tracer made their escape to the surface.

Corridor

As the Dinobots split off to get rearmed and re-energized Grimlock moved to an empty lab with a computer console. He began punching commands into the computer. Now on board the Guardian he had access to additional information he would need, specifically about the Ark-19. While theft was certainly a large part of his plan, he hoped to bluff his way through a lot of it, but he needed information to back that up.

He quickly studied the current crew compliment of the vessel, happy to see it barely staffed. It wouldn’t take to much work to get them all off the vessel , ideally without violence. Hopefully his rank and the presence of the rest of the Dinobots would be enough to chase them away without many questions. The Dinobot leader turned his attention to their target destination, using the computer to compute a couple of diversionary jumps to hide their final destination. Grimlock wasn’t sure if Prowl could afford to actually chase after them, but it was base not to take any chances.

Finally the Dinobot began recording a brief message for Prowl to view after he had left. Not being sure whether he would have time to talk to the other Autobot on the way out he wanted to make sure he had the last word in some form or another.

*

Mess Hall

While Kup had welcomed the friendly face of Bumblebee he frowned as Nova Strike forced himself into the conversation. Accidentally interrupting their talk was one thing, but, apparently, eavesdropping and then forcing your way into the conversation was another. Prowl and he had barely even scratched the surface of all he had wanted to talk about, including the Hot Rod situation, when Nova Strike began peppering them with questions. Bumblebee joined in, but his comments seemed a bit more constructive at least.

The old timer rubbed his chin as he considered Bumblebee’s question. “I know the Dinobots got into a scuffle or two with the Predacons, but aside from that I can’t tell you much. Who knows what they’ve been up to locked up in that tower? We were busy getting our base up and running, I figured they were mostly doing the same. Of course it sounds like Shockwave was doing some research of his own.”

Kup paused to think some more. “Maybe Shockwave was experimenting with that new energon from Earth back on Cybertron. The planet was definitely looking better then we last left it, although that ain’t saying much. Maybe that new energon could speed up the process a bit? Re-energize the planet? I don’t know, don’t know about mecha-forming Earth or whatever either, but you can never be too sure when Shockwave is involved.”

He looked over at Prowl, “Yeah, let me get that info uploaded to the Guardian now. The ships probably already have a connection, shouldn’t take much to dump the info over here for Perceptor to look at.” He contacted the ship’s computer and got the data transfer going as the others continued to talk. Kup looked up as Prowl answered the latest of Nova Strike’s questions/demands.

“Maybe we should go and debrief those two together then Prowl. I’ve got some more details about the Cybertron mission to share with you and you can tell me who all else you are dragging to this mudball.” Kup stood up and slowly made for the door.

*

Med Bay

Ironhide moved away from the repair bay as Groove announced that the work was complete. He flexed his reattached arm and rotated it at the shoulder a bit. “It feels good to me Groove, maybe a little stiff but that’ll work itself out eventually. Thanks fer the patch up buddy.” He clapped the Protectobot on the shoulder before moving to the exit.

Well, he’d put it off for about as long as he could but now it was time to bite the bullet. >>”Prowl, this is Ironhide. I’m sure yer chompin’ at the bit to get the debriefing done. Well I’m all patched up and ready whenever you are.”<< He glanced around the room and saw Hot Spot involved in some repair work of his own. >>”Hot Spot is helping out with the wounded and from the looks of it could probably use a little patching up two, just so you know. I’m sure you wanna talk to him too.”<<

*

Hot Spot listened quietly to Sprints reply. He continued working for a minute as he mulled over his words. “Well, I would say then that you learned something about yourself today. You learned you aren’t really the ruthless and cold fueled type, and there is nothing wrong with that. Heck, I don’t consider myself one of those either, although there are certainly a few among the Autobots.”

The Protectobot went back to his work for a minute, concentrating on it as he reconnected the last few cables. “My team is considered one of the most non-violent groups in the Autobots. Protection is part of our name. Despite that I believe we are considered among some of the top Bots around, although I might be biased.” He flashed a grin at Sprints before continuing. “What I’m saying is you don’t have to be ruthless to fight or win in this war. If we all went to those levels then what are we really fighting for. Sure, maybe we need a few guys like that, but I’m not one of them, and I don’t think you are either.”

Hot Spot stood back up. “Alright Sprints, your legs should work now, although one of the real medics should do some touching up on it just to make sure everything is ok.”

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

The blue and white scout listened intently as Smokescreen told her that he would be staying with the shuttle until she got back. It was reassuring that he respected her wishes, but she also felt as though she was pushing him to the side in favor of her addiction. That feeling alone made her hate herself for being weak. But she also knew that without the Syk she wouldn’t be able to function like a normal person, and without being and feeling normal she truly was weak.

Her attention turned back to her desk where she moved into position in front of the computer terminal. Shakily, Tracer took a seat, but stopped before she began to try and contact Oil Slick. She looked back up when Smokescreen started to explain that he’d have to confiscate a shuttle from the Ark – 22. It made sense, although it was difficult even to concentrate on what he was explaining. Tracer nodded in agreement, but her interest was piqued when Smokescreen mentioned that he would have to stop by Wheeljack’s workshop on bard the Ark – 19. She then stood from her seat and moved back around to stand in front of her desk, and Smokescreen.

Before she was able to ask what he needed in Wheeljack’s lab, Smokescreen had placed a hand on her forearm and then reached up with his free hand to caress the side of her faceplate. Her optics met his just as he leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss. It was then that she realized that he would do anything for her. It just made her feel guiltier for relying on him.

When he finally pulled away, Tracer reluctantly let him go. Upon his reassurance that everything would be fine, Tracer simply nodded in agreement. As he moved away from her and headed for the door, Tracer felt the need to tell him that she was thankful that they had found one another, and that she wished it didn’t have to be this way, but before she could get a word out he had already unlocked the door and stepped through the threshold where he stopped and glanced back at her. She raised her hand to halt him, but he had already moved down the corridor.

As the door closed Tracer lowered her hand and moved back behind her desk and took a seat. She took a long look at her computer console and let out a heavy sigh. The whole ordeal was wearing on her and now she had dragged her dearest friend…no, he was more than a friend. She gritted her teeth as she swiped her arm completely across her desk causing the datapads piled on top to scatter over the floor. The scout placed her elbows on the desk and let out a defeated moan as she laid her head in her hands.

After several minutes Tracer slowly removed her head from the palms of her hands and sat back in her chair. After a few moments of quiet reflection she began to work on bouncing an encrypted signal off of the humans’ network of satellites that littered the space above the planet. She kept the signal narrow and sent it carrening along the network as quickly as possible. The end result would reach its target on their already established private channel.

>>”Oil Slick. This is Tracer. The dose you provided me with is wearing off. I need more as soon as possible. I can provide you with information as payment. Please respond with coordinates for a secure meeting location. Tracer, out.”<<

Med Bay

First Aid let out a grunt as he pulled his hand from the hole in Axle’s chest. The field medic’s innards were a mess, but at least the doctor was finally able to get the bleeding under control. Now all the Protectobot had to do was rewire and rebuild…everything.

First Aid grabbed one of the soiled rags from the nearby cart and began to wipe the already drying fluids from his hands. He kept his optics glued to the monitor, thanking Primus that his friend and comrade was stable. He only hoped he would stay that way.

From behind the privacy glass Ratchet appeared, also holding a soiled rag. The CMO took a long look at his subordinate and gave him a nod. First Aid responded with one of his own.

“How’s he doing Aid?”

The Protectobot let out a heavy sigh before he tossed the rag back onto the cart and turned back to the monitor.

“It’s a miracle that his spark chamber wasn’t breached. Primus was watching over him.”

“I don’t believe in Primus, Aid, I only believe in us.”

First Aid shook his head as he looked back to Ratchet.

“Be that as it may, he was extremely lucky, Ratchet. I’ll need some help getting everything back together inside his chest. Are you free?”

Ratchet took a quick look over his shoulder and spotted Hot Rod checking on the CR chambers. The mech didn’t seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary, but the CMO was still leery about the mech and his new and unusual body.

“I have the time, Aid.”

The doctor nodded and began to gather a series of tools that he would need to complete the repairs. As he prepared he gave a concerned look to Ratchet.

“How’s Hex? I hope he wasn’t as bad off as Axle.”

“The kid’ll be fine. In fact, it’s strange. When I started to work on him his internal repair systems had already begun to patch things up.”

“Well, what’s so strange about that?”

Ratchet let out a sigh before he answered First Aid’s question.

“I’m really not sure. Perhaps I’m over reacting, but with the amount of damage Hex had sustained I didn’t think it was possible for his own systems to have gotten that far so soon.”

Placing one last tool on the cart First Aid looked back his friend.

“Well, he is young. His systems are slightly more advanced than most of the rest of us. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. Anyway, let’s get Axle back up and running before Hex wakes up.”

------

Rodimus had already sensed Saferoute step up behind him even before she addressed him. He kept his back to the bus-former as he smiled at the mech still within the chamber.

“Yes, Saferoute, he is a very tough mech. I know he’ll pull through, we need him. We need every one of these mechs.”

Rodimus finally turned around to face the femme, and slight smile in his face.

“It’s good that you weren’t hurt more than you were. I wish I could say the same for Hex and Axle.”

His smile faded as he looked back to the youngling lying on the med berth across the room. His gaze then moved to the surgery section of the medical bay.

“You were at the Kansas location. Do you know which Decepticon did this to Axle?”

Turbo Lift/Corridor/Armory

Sludge couldn't get out of the small turbo lift fast enough, stepping out as soon as Snarl was out. After following the desert warrior down the hallway he watched as Snarl beat on the door to make it open faster. Sludge almost wished they could have just smashed the door open, but even he might have thought that was a little too much destruction for a short wait.

Sludge entered the armory behind his fellow Dinobot, who gave the jungle warrior a word of warning. Sludge probably wouldn't have given a second thought about his movements had Snarl not said anything. As far as he knew he probably would have survived the resulting explosion without any problems.

"Hmmmm.", Sludge said as thoughtfully as he could, "Me Sludge don't want to hurt ship. Me Sludge can't fly in space."

Taking Snarl's warning seriously, Sludge stood near the doorway and looked all around the inventory of weapons. He knew very little at what he was looking at, he didn't know anything more specific anything other than gun and bomb. In all honesty Sludge had never felt any need for any weapons outside of his own fists and his two feet, and to some extent his sword.

If Grimlock hadn't insisted on carrying some kind of firearm, for when the Decepticons kept their distance, Sludge never would have bothered. He usually carried the standard issue laser rifle, for whatever it was worth. Sludge had yet to actually hit anything with a rifle, and he was far too careless to keep one for an extended period of time. The last one he ended up crushing with his bare fists out of boredom on the trip from Cybertron.

After looking for something that looked like his last gun, Sludge grabbed one out of several dozen laser rifles, each looking exactly the same. It was then that Snarl began talking- talking a lot for a Dinobot, certainly more than Sludge was used to with his comrades. As Snarl went on about Grimlock's plan and Prowl's reaction, Sludge took a closer look at his new gun from different angles. To be honest Sludge knew next to nothing about weapons, so his only conlusion was that it was a gun and it looked like the ones he normally used. When his "inspection" was done Snarl had just asked Sludge about his thoughts.

"Huh?", Sludge said in slight confusion, followed by what seemed like a breem of deep thought before he continued, "Me Sludge think weakling Prowl with big words is too scared to follow. Me Sludge think Grimlock's plan will work. We Dinobots will take ship and win war, because Dinobots are strongest and Grimlock is strongest leader."

Just as Sludge finished, he thought he heard something from outside the room. In his normally slow fashion he lowered his rifle, then took several astroseconds to turn around and take a step outside the armory.

The jungle warrior looked in front of the door.

Nothing.

Looked down the hall to the left.

Nothing.

Looked down the hall to the right.

Nothing.

Sludge shrugged, turned around and stepped back into the armory with Snarl.

"Me Sludge thought me heard something. Guess it just wind.", Sludge explained before he remembered the gun in his hand. After several astroseconds of thinking Sludge reached the new rifle out to Snarl, "Will this gun work for me, Sludge?"

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

Med Bay

Saferoute was taken aback when the tall Autobot in front of her addressed her by name before even looking at her. She knew she'd never worked with or for him, and the fact that he knew who she was just by her voice was somewhat alarming.

"How did you...." she whispered to herself, stopping as the flamed mech turned around to face her.

Seeing him now, face to face, Saferoute was now certain that he had to be a ranking officer, possibly a commander. There was a deep maturity and confidence about him that she could see. Most likely he came after hearing of Optimus' death, though why he would be in the med bay and not in some meeting with Prowl was beyond her. As he spoke to her, some of her concerns about him began to vanish.

"Uh, thank you, sir.", she nervously responded, "Yes, I was in Kansas with Hex and Axle and the others."

As she was about to answer his inquiry about Axle, she thought back to the situation. Human corpses scattered about, scared living humans huddled together. Saferoute sneaking toward the hostages as Axle took up Motormaster's attention- then the Stunticon leader firing on some of the humans right in front of Saferoute's windshield.

"To be honest, I didn't really see everything that happened to Axle.", Saferoute answered Rodimus, "When we got there the Decepticons had already taken many of the humans as hostages. Axle was the bravest down there. He walked right up to Motormaster and offered to trade places with the humans."

As she thought about it for a moment, she looked over where the doctors were still working on Axle. A bitter smile came across her face, proud that another Autobot had cared so much for Earth's natives, but sad that his caring would bring him so much pain.

"I didn't see it with my own optics but..." she continued, trying to keep her emotions in check, "I'm pretty sure that was Motormaster's way of saying no."

Med Bay

Sprints nodded as Hot Spot spoke, processing what the Protectobot was saying. But on the inside, Sprints still couldn't help but feel as though he had failed somehow. He'd hesitated on the battlefield, something he knew couldn't be afforded, and he'd paid the price. Every time he went back to that moment, just before being hit by a Decepticon, he thought he should have just shot the first 'Con and have done with it.

Thinking of them, it reminded Sprints that he wanted to try and find out who they were. Maybe he wasn't ruthless, but he was determined, and held a grudge.

Sprints thought about that. Determined, but not ruthless. He realized that maybe that wasn't a bad thing. He'd always considered himself the kind of 'Bot who could get the job done, and done quickly, no matter what, and that was part of why he was so stuck on the fight. But if what Hot Spot said was true, maybe it wasn't a bad thing...

What, that you were smashed up like this by some slag 'Con? Please.

...Sprints shook his head, wondering what that was. It hadn't been a vision like at the refinery, but he didn't believe he'd really thought it himself. He was about to bring it up with Hot Spot when the commander told him he was set to go for now.

"Thanks," Sprints said, sitting up and turning to allow his legs some movement. He outstretched one, then the other. They were a little stiff from not being used for a while and being patched up, but other than that they seemed fine. Still, there was no way to know for sure until he hit the training room or went on another mission. Hot Spot also said that he should have one of the true medics take a look at them before going off. Sprints decided to stay here for the time being, putting off his exercise and detective work.

He nodded to Hot Spot, then looked around the room. It had calmed down a little bit, with most of the injured 'Bots getting someone to look after them or heading into chambers, but only a little bit. First Aid and Ratchet were still working on Axle-- No surprise there, he thought. Axle had taken quite a beating, after all. Hex was lying on a table as well, but no one was looking after him. Sprints figured he must already have been fixed.

His gaze fell on a tall 'Bot he hadn't seen before, conversing with one of the Autobots from the refinery-- Saferoute, he thought. She seemed almost caught off guard at first, but then she recovered, and began talking again. Sprints walked over just in time to hear the taller 'Bot's question about Axle as well, but he waited to speak until after Saferoute had finished.

"I was there," he said calmly. "It's pretty much what you just said, 'Route. He offered a trade, Motormaster... didn't like the conditions. So he decided to use Axle as a shield." Sprints shook his head in disgust. "Slagging 'Cons, they got no respect. By the way," he said as he turned to face the tall Autobot, "who're you?"

* * *

Dustspark entered the med bay, wondering where everyone was. "Primus!" he shouted as the doors opened. "Guess I found 'em."

The med bay was busy, busier than it had been in a few dozen breems, anyway-- Dusty wasn't sure of the time. Not wanting to confuse anyone with his absentmindedness about all that, though, he strode forward, already reaching for his medical tools at his waist, and called out, "Right! Who's got a problem? I can 'elp someone." He turned to First Aid and Ratchet, some of the best medics the Autobots had, and saw they were busy. He decided not to interrupt them, instead repeating his question.

"Right! Who's got a problem?"

Infirmary

Slingshot went from a quiet status straight into his defensive posture almost instantaneously. His place on the bench was immediately vacated and Slingshot was straight into the forefront of Blade's optical range. His face contorted with indignation and irritation. He tried to be nice, he tried to be quiet, and no dice. Looks like he was to prove he was the best flier again.

"Look Blades," He began by poking Blades in the chest. While he felt insulted, almost mitigated in his own accomplishments, he would not start a unit war just because he felt that way. Still he needed to insure the Protectobot knew not to mess with the Aerialbots, regardless of their personal biases. "How many cons did you dust down there in the corn fields of scrapfrack nowhere? How many cons did you send crashing into the dirt? Thrust may be a coward, but he's still one of the fastest slaggers in the con air force. And now he's been dusted."

He poked Blades again and released a simulated breath to relieve his tension and allow his emotional outburst to subside. "Regardless of what you say, you didn't do squat flying air cover for your dispatch team. I had to keep all those con fliers off my squad... without help I might add."

The diminutive Aerialbot retracted his finger and folded his arms across his chest. Slingshot released a smirk of final superiority knowing that regardless of what Blades came back with, he would be ready for the verbal joust. Unfortunately, the joust would never come as Silverbolt decided to once again stick his nosecone where it didn't belong. "Oh great, you decided to join the party oh Fearless Leader." Slingshot exaggerated the last two words to homer home the points of his disdain for the team leader of the Aerialbots. "There isn't any fight here... At least not yet. I doubt there would be anyways. After all, we're all one big Autobot happy family now aren't we?" His voice was laced with sarcasim.

Armory

“Me thinks there no wind in space, Sludge,” Snarl responded once his large comrade had taken a look outside the armory to see if there was anyone lurking about in the corridor. If there had been someone nearby they were gone now, probably scared off by the intimidating size and might of the two Dinobots. Still they needed to be careful what they said aloud regarding the planned takeover of the Ark-19. If anyone were to overhear them, their whole scheme would be over before it had even begun.

“We need be careful what we say,” the Desert Warrior warned Sludge. “We can’t risk some dumb ‘Bot overhear us. Grimlock not like it if plan fail because of our big mouths.” Snarl then took a glance down at the weapon the Jungle Warrior had held out in front of him. “Look good to me, Sludge. Just try not shoot shelf in foot.”

Snarl chuckled a bit as he loaded a new clip into his long-range rifle and smacked it into place before moving on to another set of shelves closer to the back of the arms depot. There he found several warheads for his missile launcher and carefully slid each one inside the powerful weapon. He still preferred close quarters combat, but the Desert Warrior couldn’t argue with the destructive nature of his missiles, especially once they found their targets and exploded in a glorious display of light, sound and carnage.

Snarl then turned around to face Sludge once again. The large warrior seemed a bit confused, but that was a usual look for him and nothing to be worried over. Of course, the Desert Warrior was seldom concerned with anything other than when he’d get to crush some ‘Cons again. Hopefully, the theft of the Ark-19 wouldn’t take too long and they would be able to get back to doing what they were built for. He grabbed some additional clips off another shelf and handed them over to Sludge.

“Here, extra clips for your rifle. Should be plenty of ammo to last a while. Try not to lose them,” Snarl said as he place both his launcher and rifle into subspace storage. “Me hope we get back from shipyards soon. Me itching to fight ‘Cons again and not just ride ship around space.”

Mess Hall

Prowl listened as Kup mentioned a battle between the Dinobots and the Predacons which had happened up on Cybertron. It didn’t surprise the military strategist that Grimlock and his brood had gotten in some fighting while everyone else was busy making themselves useful in Iacon. Still it was in the Dinobots nature to be violent and they did have their usefulness if they could be properly controlled and utilized as the blunt instruments that they were in this ongoing war.

Other than that, the old timer was merely surmising about what Shockwave had been up to while in his tower. Until whatever data the cycloptic mech had shared with them was properly analyzed by Perceptor, Prowl would draw no definitive conclusions. He required proof and reason, not guesses and possibilities. Neither of those things would win them the war.

“Well, Kup, I can tell you one thing for certain, whatever Shockwave was up to it wasn’t to benefit us that’s for sure,” Prowl replied to the old warhorse before giving him a nod regarding the shared debriefings. “Good idea. But let’s conduct those up on the bridge where there’s a bit more privacy. After all, we don’t have to accommodate the Dinobots anymore.”

Following Kup’s lead, Prowl stood and headed for the door just as Ironhide’s message came in over his comm line. The military strategist opened a channel to both the red mech and to Hot Spot: >>”Glad to hear that you’re doing well, Ironhide. Meet me and Kup on the bridge for that debriefing. Hot Spot, whenever you’re adequately patched up, join us on the bridge, as well. There’s a lot for us to discuss.”<<

As Prowl entered the corridor, walking alongside the aged mech, he opened another comm to Perceptor, who was likely still analyzing the ore sample he had recently collected. >>”Perceptor, this is Prowl. New data, possibly relating to the mutated energon, is currently being transferred over from the Ark-22. Please take a look at it and see if it’s anything viable to us. Be wary, however. The source of the info is from none other than Shockwave, himself. I’ll be on the bridge if you need to contact me for anything.”<<

Medical Bay

Hardhead stirred within his CR chamber. His optics on-lined with a faint glow as he slowly awakened from his slumber. For the most part the rest he had received while the appendages around him worked their magic had been uneventful. However, at one point during the process, the green warrior thought he had heard a faint voice coming from somewhere. He couldn’t remember what it had said as it seemed like a distant memory even now. Probably just some strange dream, the veteran soldier surmised, having never experienced such a thing before. Of course, there was always a first time for anything, he supposed.

As the CR chamber door hissed open, Hardhead leaned forward and stepped out into the overly crowded medical facility. His body was now completely healed with his back-mounted cannon fully restored. Now all he needed was a new pair of shatterblasters and he’d be good to go another round with the Decepticons.

However, since the green soldier’s arrival in the med bay and subsequent stay in the CR chamber, many more injured ‘Bots had entered looking for help, a good number of which hadn't been on the Iranian mission. It was now apparent that another engagement had already taken place, seemingly at about the same time as the one at the oil field. It must have been a skirmish that had begun once Hardhead's team was already down on the surface, and by the looks of things it was a violent encounter considering the state of Axle, Hex and some of the others.

Glancing around the room, Hardhead almost immediately spotted a flame-covered mech standing nearest to him with his back facing the war veteran. The ‘Bot in question looked a bit like Hot Rod, but was obviously too tall and mature in appearance to be the rambunctious cavalier. “Hey, buddy, what happened around here? Was there another battle?” Hardhead asked as he placed a firm hand on the fiery Autobot’s shoulder.

Med Bay

Blades would have been lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the assortment of reactions he extracted from Slingshot. Rapidly transferring himself from the bench and penetrating his personal space, Blades silently wished their verbal confrontation would evolve into something containing violence. Jabbing his digit repeatedly into the Protectobot's chest-plate was a good start, that much could be admitted.

It was amazing, however, just how much confidence Slingshot had accumulated in the last few moments. When Blades first approached him, he appeared dejected, cranial unit lowered, shoulder-plates slumped forward, a drooping mass weakly occupying the bench. Now he exhibited strength and energy, standing right in Blades' face-plate, constantly harassing him with a finger. Since when did the weak link of the Aerialbots support his words with brief bouts of movement?

Oh, right. Blades had been concentrating far too much on what he was going to do next to notice. That was until big brother Silverbolt's voice seeped into his thoughts, announcing his presence to the Protectobot. Big brother Silverbolt must have seen him speaking with Slingshot and concluded his intervention was necessary to foil any attempt to harm his team-mate, should their conversation escalate for the worst.

Big brother Silverbolt was correct. Blades wanted nothing more than to smash his fist into Slingshot's ugly face-plate.

Nonetheless, he smirked at the Aerialbot's sharpshooter. “No wonder you were showing signs of functioning just then!” He clapped his actuators together, pointed at Slingshot. “You saw big brother coming along and thought you could act all tough until he arrived to haul your sorry aft out of trouble.”

Instead of desiring to knock him to the ground, a new feeling swept over Blades. He wanted to laugh.

“Well, here he is, Slingy! Saving you once again. Same old story, really.” Blades pivoted and began walking away from the Aerialbot. He was finished dealing with him. “Still all talk and no action, Slingy. Yep, same old story indeed.”

Lab

The scientist turned sniper had spent the better part of a mega-cycle analyzing the ore that he and Hardhead had acquired from the Decepticon’s decimated headquarters. Test after test an there was still nothing that could be deemed as definitive. The only definite was that this ore was something Shockwave had a hand in creating.

The molecular structure was incredible. One of the final tests that still needed to be performed was on a live subject, but Perceptor knew that Prowl would be against it. The scientist had two options; try desperately to convince the strategist to allow him to test the ore on a live subject, or he could simply proceed using himself as the subject.

The latter seemed to be the option Perceptor would lean toward. He began to refine the ore less than a cycle ago and the process was nearly complete when he received a communique from Prowl. It seemed that his testing would have to wait until he provided the black and white with a brief on his findings. However, the information Prowl had just provided was quite intriguing.

“Interesting. Perhaps it’s best that I hold off on that test for now.”

The information from Shockwave might shed some light on just what he was going to do with this ore.

Placing on of the datapads he had been taking notes on down, Perceptor quickly moved to his computer terminal and accessed the download from the Ark – 22. The scientist went right to work decoding the information within.

Medical Bay

Rodimus turned fully to face Saferoute and Sprints, who had just arrived from across the room and mentioned that he had been present during the battle with the Stunticons. The Autobot revealed exactly what happened to Axle. The medic was brave, especially if he had the ball bearings to stand up to Motormaster and offer a deal. This Stunticon; he shall be another.

Rodimus was pulled from his musings when the Sprints asked who he was. A broad smile formed on the flame emblazoned mech’s lips as he regarded the smaller ‘Bot.

“My name is Rodimus. And you are Sprints. I am quite pleased to meet you.”

The self-proclaimed Prime then felt a firm hand on his shoulder and the voice of his second chosen. Rodimus turned slowly and flashed Hardhead a broad smile.

“Hardhead. It’s good to see you out and about again. And to answer your question, yes there was another battle. One in the state of Kansas against the Stunticons. From what I was told Axle tried to convince Motormaster to take him as a hostage and let the humans go free. Motormaster decided not to take the trade.”

Rodimus let out a heavy sigh before he placed a hand on Hardhead’s shoulder.

“The Decepticons have already made two simultaneous strikes on human fuel reserves. I know they will not stop there, but it would seem that Prowl will wait before we initiate a preemptive strike. I only hope he will see the error in that before it is too late.”

Incoming Encrypted Message

>>”Tracer, I will meet with you in 2.25 cycles. I will provide the coordinates for the meeting location in 2 cycles in another transmission.”<<

Mess Hall

Nova Strike rubbed his chin as the ultra violet fluid sloshed in its cylindrical container. He had offered a salute to Prowl and Kup, offering a proper appreciation for the brisk flow of information. The facts were staring him in the face plate, even if the others did not truly realize it. To be practical he really did not see all of the facts as they truly were either, but from what he could tell from what he had just been made unintentionally privy to was that the Decepticons were well on the verge of having a major advantage in this war. Potential energy source that was more potent than the standard Energon both sides had been feuding over for the past million plus years.

Clasping his Energon ration, Nova Strike took a shallow swig before once again setting the container on the table. His fingers thumping briskly on the metallic slab that served as a table. It bothered him that on the surface they were only now trying to take on this vast deferential in scientific progress, at least as for appearances. To be honest he couldn't even see much urgency. Still, the ranger had been in this game a long time to know that there were still levels upon levels of details he was not made directly aware of. Of course there was the whole mention of a mysterious officer to be assigned to take on the cons, either at a science outpost or even take out a few con patrols to get more information.

He shook the thought from his processors. If there was to be a strike on the cons, it would be devastating in the short term for the cons... but in the long run the potential harm to the Autobots political advantage could be incalculable. "So that is all we can milk from Prowl eh. Not a lot to go on in terms of what we can do next." He spoke to Bumblebee before taking another swig of his high grade.

"I guess our being on combat call isn't exactly at the height of priorities. We're back to square one, join the repair teams over on the 19. Or perhaps follow up on this new line of discovery."

Med Bay

How to proceed? Several options crossed Silverbolt’s processor while he watched the two of them banter back and forth before heeding to his orders. He wasn’t the best at dealing with another’s personality quirks, why in the name of Primus was he given a head case like Slingshot? Since the altercation was brief he was at least saved from dealing with Blades. If he had the time he'd compare notes with Hot Spot about the best way to deal with their... delinquents.

“Only you would think this is a party, Slingshot.” He paused watching Blades walk away then turned back to his subordinate and in a lower voice offered his opinion. “I don’t want to be the one explaining to Magnus why pieces of Blades are scattered across the med bay.”

With a slight smirk he walked away from Slingshot. He didn’t expect complimenting the young mech to work, but trying never hurt. He made it three strides away before his optics flashed again, that time they stayed off for several seconds. He hoped no one noticed his pause, the last thing he needed or wanted was to be ushered into Ratchet ahead of the others.

Corridors

Kup paused long enough for Prowl to join him before he started heading for the bridge. Producing his cy-gar he stuck it back in his mouth as he waited for the other Autobot to finish off his transmission. “Little surprised you called in someone else to take command of things around here. You seemed to be doing a pretty good job keeping it all together, Grimlock not withstanding of course.” Kup snickered. “If you’d mentioned to him that you were bringing in a ringer I think he would have smashed you through a bulkhead.”

The old timer continued walking in silence. He couldn’t blame Prowl for bringing in someone else. Despite what Grimlock though Prowl wasn’t really the power hungry type. He would do it in a pinch, like now, but it didn’t suit him in the long run. It could be a heavy burden to bear and it wasn’t for everyone. He had wished he’d mention it sooner though, maybe gotten his input on things. Not everyone was going to take the news of Prime’s death in stride and be able to lead in his place.

Kup plucked the cy-gar from his mouth. “So what hot shot did you call in to run things Prowl? I’m too old to play guessing games, so spill it.”

*

Med Bay

Hot Spot nodded at Sprints as he put away his tools. Glancing around he noticed that everyone else seemed to be receiving the attention they needed or soon would be. It also looked liked the worst of the wounded were well on their way to being repaired. The Protectobot leader felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was confident in First Aid’s skill, but Hex and Axle had been in bad shape. It probably took everything he and Ratchet knew to get them to pull through. It was fortunate they were both here.

The Protectobot began moving to a CR chamber. He hadn’t come out of the battle with Motormaster as intact as he would have liked. Now with everyone else getting patched up he knew it was his turn. Might as well do it before First Aid orders him to at least, he thought. Just before he stepped into the chamber he received the signal from Prowl.

>>”Affirmative sir, it should just take a little while in the CR chamber and I will give you my full report.”<<

With that he stepped into the chamber and the repair cycle activated.

*

Ironhide let out a sigh as he got Prowl’s reply. It didn’t look like he would get a reprieve to wait for Hot Spot to get done with his repairs. Ah well, best to just get it done as soon as possible. He never was much for reports, especially the type of formal thing he was afraid Prowl would want. Of course, this would be better then typing something up. He’d bribed more then a few Autobots over the millennia to type up reports for him. The security mech just couldn’t get his fingers to type worth a slag. They were built to be in fists and smashing depti-chumps in the face, not typing.

Of course a face to face briefing with Prowl wasn’t going to be a walk in the part either. He’d heard that once Prowl had literally talked a Decepticon to death, reading off regulations and infractions he had made until the Con had fried his own circuits to get out of it. Ironhide knew this wouldn’t be anything like that, but it wasn’t exactly going to be fun, that was for sure.

>>”I’m on my way Prowl,”<< he replied as he left the med bay.

*

Empty Lab

Grimlock finished up his work at the console and shut it down. Now he had at least the vaguest inklings of a plan and was ready to put it into motion. It was going to rely mostly on bluffing and intimidation. They could always fall back on brute strength as the Dinobots always had that in abundance, but even he was loathe to use that against other Autobots. He would just have to be very confident and convincing. Fortunately those were two other things he excelled at.

The Dinobot leader knew he was taking a big risk with this plan. Prowl would probably want him thrown in the brig. Of course that would require him coming and getting him, and he doubted that he had the ball bearings to go that far. He just hoped some of the other Autobots would appreciate this bold move. The outcome of the entire war could be decided here. They needed to be proactive, take the fight to the cons, not sit and wait and strategize.

Grimlock made his way to the door, at the same time signaling his team. >>”Dinobots, finish up what you doing and meet at airlock to Ark-19. It time to move out.”<<

Med Bay

Luck. That was what Slingshot had been gifted with. Had Hot Spot and Silverbolt not been present in the med bay, Blades, without the shadow of a doubt, would have inflicted a thrashing on the Aerialbot. It was quite obvious he deserved it—had it coming, even.

Then again, Slingshot was not worth the effort and energy. Such productivity could be invested into far greater causes, all of which not a single drop of fuel would be squandered. Aimlessly running around in the Guardian could be regarded as a more efficient way to expend time and energy. Certainly in Blades' core processor it now did.

Swivelling his cranial unit from left to right, he permitted his view to absorb the active scene before him. First Aid, Ratchet and Dustspark were tending to the severely wounded, their invaluable skills banishing scorched and mutilated armour-plating and various other parts and replacing them with fresh, strong ones. Groove and Hot Spot also assisted with repairs, treating minor to moderate injuries, while the remaining able-bodied Autobots occupied CR chambers mainly to regain high fuel levels and remove any dents and scratches garnishing their frames.

All in all, the initial chaos that plagued the med bay had been subdued, leaving the facility in a bustling yet controlled environment. Realising there was little he could do to help, Blades walked over to an available CR chamber. He jabbed the keypad a few times and the chamber's door opened with a gentle hiss. He climbed in, digits darting back and forth across the keypad contained inside the CR chamber.

Nestled inside, the door slowly closed shut as if it were one of Cybertron's species of predatory plants ensnaring its lured prey before sealing its jaws and consuming it. Blades needed to be functioning at full capacity, should Hot Spot require his assistance for any tasks that might suddenly emerge in the near future.

Armory

"Hmmmm.", Sludge grunted as thoughtfully as he could to Snarl, "Me Sludge can keep mouth shut if me need to."

The jungle warrior nodded at the desert warrior's approval of his chosen weapon. Sludge then looked at the rifle, then down at his foot, and thought about Snarl's other comment.

"Me Sludge be okay, puny gun can't hurt Sludge. But Sludge be careful, anyway."

He then took the clips that were handed to him. Looking over them confused, he took a long look around his rifle, trying to figure out where they went.

"Huh?", the large dinobot said confused, until he noticed Snarl load a clip into his own rifle, "Oh."

Thinking he knew enough Sludge put the clips into his own storage space. It was then that the two Dinobots recieved a message from their leader, Grimlock. Sludge was pretty sure they were done in the armory, and he turned around and stomped out into the hallway.

After a few steps, Sludge stopped.

He looked thoughtfully to the hallway ahead.

He turned and looked thoughtfully at the hallway to the right.

He turned and looked thoughtfully at the hallway to his left, scratching his head.

Finally Sludge turned around and walked back to the armory door.

"Um, me Sludge don't know way to airlock. Do you, Snarl?"

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


Med-Bay

Saferoute nodded in agreement to Sprints explanation of events, followed by Rodimus explaining things to the newly healed Hardhead.

Two attacks? There was another attack down on Earth? Those slaggers, why is Prowl having us waiting around up hear?How many more have to die before he gets a slagging clue?

"Before it's too late? They'd already killed dozens, maybe even a hundred humans before we got there, how is that not too late?", Saferoute angrily said, her fists clenched.

Saferoute remembered earlier before the mission, she had told Prowl they should go down to the planet to keep an eye on things. He turned it down, instead sending her to the med-bay where there was nothing for her to do. How many lives could have been down if they had done something sooner? How many?

"I don't know what's going on in Mr. Logic's neuro-circuits, but there's not going to be much left down there if we keep waiting around like this!"

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

Groove politely nodded as Ironhide thanked him for the repair job. It was nice to do something useful that didn't require firing a weapon.

Looking around he noticed what looked like a possible scuffle between Slingshot and his fellow Protectobot Blades. Groove headed over to try to stop it, but before he even made it Blades had walked to a CR Chamber and Silverbolt had made his presense known.

[i]It may be over, but it never hurts to fix bridges.[/b]

The scout walked up to the two Aerialbots, hoping to keep relations between them and the Protectobots amicable.

"Listen, Slingshot, I'd like to apologize for whatever Blades said to you.", Groove tried to reconcile, "He's a good bot, but sometimes.... well..... sometimes he gets a little too worked up. To be honest,"

Groove looked over to the CR chamber that Blades had entered, already well into his repair cycle.

"To be honest, I think he's taking out his frustrations of me out on you.", Groove continued with a sense of regret, "He had to save my tailpipe down there, and I'm sure he blames me for missing out on some action. If I hadn't been patching up Ironhide, he probably would have gone after me instead."

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

His optics came online, a familiar hiss of the CR chamber door opening, and once again the maroon warrior was up and walking.

"BLAM! I feel like a million energon cubes!", Warpath exclaimed, "My BLING armor is shiny and polished, my circuits are repaired and- oh."

Looking down he remembered- his cannon. Though the CR chamber was able to fix up his systems, it couldn't replace all the material needed for his chest cannon. The warrior sighed.

He looked over to the two medics- Ratchet and First Aid. Both were still busy with the bots from the Kansas mission. He couldn't ask them for help when a bot's life was still on the line.

Expecting to wait for several breems, Warpath cheered up as Dustspark entered. From the looks of it all the other Autobots had been or were being tended to, so the maroon warrior was ready to take the old medic up on his offer.

"WHAM, I got a problem!" Warpath shouted, walking up to Dustspark, pointing at the now smooth hole where his weapon should be, "I need a POW new chest cannon. Can ya' ZING, help me pal?"

Med Bay

OOC: Please excuse any confusion when it comes to reading Dusty's speech. It's just his pattern. I'd suggest reading/thinking it aloud. Sorry.

Dustspark grinned openly as Warpath ambled forward. Dusty was amiable with all the Autobots, but he'd always found this particular 'Bot's speech patterns amusing. He enjoyed it.

"Sure!" Dustspark beamed. "Lemme prep ye here, then we'll get ye a new cannon, eh?" He guided the warrior to a table, where he retrieved the proper tools and began working. In all honesty, there wasn't much to be done here, but Dusty also wanted to get an idea of the situation, and he could do that by observing the 'Bots in the med bay.

He talked as he worked, mostly meaningless small talk. He'd always prided himself on his manner-- even the squeamish ones were usually fine when Dustspark worked on them-- and he applied it now. But he also listened and watched, even though it might not be noticeable.

What was noticeable was the way he absentmindedly slipped what he perceived into his talking. "Those two at it agin," referring to Blades and Slingshot; "an' 'ere comes ol' Silver to break it up." "Oi! What's 'is? Tha' li'l'un talkin' to 'im?" when Groove approached Sling; little comments about Hot Spot and Ironhide and their movement. And...

"Ye notice Rodimus o'er yond?" Dusty said in a low voice, so only Warpath could hear. He didn't do it just because he knew patients liked to feel special, and secrets make one feel special; he did it also because he didn't know how most ‘Bots would react if they heard what he was saying. " 'E looks different, now dunn 'e? I wonder what 'appened to 'im..."

* * *

Sprints blinked and froze for a few moments as Hardhead exited his chamber and joined the conversation. How'd he know my name? How the frag does he know me? Sprints had never seen this 'Bot before in his existence-- at least, the existence he remembered.

Slag, what if he recognizes me from before? They said I don't look the same, but still...

He was pulled back to the present when Saferoute exploded with anger about Prowl’s inactivity toward Earth. He was surprised, but only slightly; though she was a compassionate ‘Bot, at least toward other species, she was also very protective of those species, and capable of anger, just like anybody else.

Still, Sprints felt she was overreacting a bit. He reached up and touched her arm, hoping to calm her down a little. “ ’Route, we all wanna save them. But we can’t just go running around down there. We do that, they're as good as in this war, and that means they’ll all die.” He looked at her seriously. “And nobody wants that. Best we can do is kick the slag out of any ‘Cons dumb enough to go down there.”

Then he turned to Rodimus, not even feigning respect or admiration. “Do I know you? How do you know my name? ‘Cause I sure as Primus didn’t know yours until a second ago.”

Med Bay

Not long after Ratchet and Rodimus had left his side, Hex began to stir. He let out a low moan as is head lolled from side to side. His optics were still offline as his systems cycled through their reboot sequence. No one was near his medical berth as he finally onlined his optics and he focused on his surroundings. As he looked around the area he wasn’t quite sure what make of his location. He grew nervous as his sight registered the inside of a cell deep within a compound. A compound he thought he has escaped vorns ago.

His optics dimmed to a deep sapphire as he noticed the pile of mechs on the floor surrounding his berth. He recognized most of them, but the others, the others he had never laid optics on before. The scene before him was so familiar, but hadn’t he gotten away from all of this?

The youngling climbed down from the medical berth tearing the energon feeds from his arm and neck. Tentatively Hex took a shaky step forward trying desperately not to step on any of the mangled and mutilated bodies that littered the floor of his cell.

The beeping of the monitor that had been hooked up to Hex had gone off catching the attention of Ratchet as he helped First Aid rework Axle’s innards. The CMO pulled his hands out form the field medic’s chest and quickly grabbed a rag wiping his hands off and nodding to First Aid who moved to finish Ratchet’s work.

Stepping form behind the privacy screen to the surgical area Ratchet moved to Hex’s berth. His optics widened as he noticed that the youngling was not unconscious on the berth where he was last seen. Frantic Ratchet looked around the Med Bay, but Hex was nowhere in sight.

The silver frame of Hex had maneuvered around the maze of littered bodies and body parts when he came upon a door. He shook his head not recalling it there when he had first onlined in the cell. Hesitantly Hex moved to the door and slowly opened it, hoping to whatever God he should be praying to that he would not come across that crazed interrogator.

Peering through the now slightly ajar door Hex took in the sight of the dark purple ‘Con elbow deep in the chest of an Autobot he thought he recognized. Gritting his teeth in anger and half shock, the young mech shot out from behind the door and tackled the startled interrogator.

First Aid had just fished reworking the repair that Ratchet had begun when he moved on to the few fuel lines that still need to be reassembled. He was taken by surprise when he was hit bodily from the side knocking him to the floor with a noisy clang and a loud groan.

Hex had moved so fast that the ‘Con hadn’t noticed him until he was right on top of him. Hex had gripped the struggling mech and turned him over so he was straddling his hips looking down into his deep crimson optics.
“You fragger! I’ll kill you!”
First Aid tried to crawl away from whomever it was that attacked him when he was grabbed roughly and turned over to face the mech. To his utter surprise it turned out to be Hex.

“Hex! Stop, it’s me, First Aid!”

From the med bay just outside of the surgical suite Ratchet heard a clang of metal on metal and a groan. Optics blazing bright blue Ratchet sprinted back to where he had left First Aid. Before he even reached the door he heard the doctor call out to his attacker.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Ratchet addressed the rest of the ‘Bots in the room.

“I need help over here!”

That said the CMO burst through the door to see Hex straddling First Aid; his hands ball in a two handed fist high above his head ready to pound into the doctor’s chest. First Aid brought his hand up in an attempt to shield him from the incoming blow, but was surprised when it never came and the weight of the young mech was finally gone.

Ratchet had charged into the room and tackled Hex form behind knocking him off of First Aid before he could punch through the doctor’s chest plate. The two struggled cursing at one another as they each tried to gain control. Ratchet was having a difficult time trying to restrain the mech when he finally called out again for some help.

“Someone give me a hand! First Aid, get the sedatives!”

Nodding First Aid got to his feet and ran to the cabinet on the other side of the suite. He prepared the syringe, but hesitated until another mech came to help hold Hex down.

****

After addressing Hardhead and turning to focus in on Saferoute’s tirade, Rodimus looked down at Sprints who had managed to ask the self-proclaimed Prime who he was and if they had met some prior time. Rodimus smile at the mech and placed his hand gently on his shoulder.

“No, we’ve never met before. I only know you through the personnel files. From what I had read I knew I wanted to meet you. And it certainly is a pleasure.”

Before he could extend his hand out to Sprints the loud bellow from ratchet echoed through the entire medical bay. Rodimus quickly looked to the mechs and femme gathered and took off toward the surgical suite.

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Tracer waited for what seemed like an eternity for the response back form Oil Slick. She was wound so tight that she hadn’t realized she was now pacing in front of her desk and wringing her servos together in heightened anticipation.

She was so anxious she had started to mumble to herself and then vocally chiding herself for not contacting the chemist sooner. Now she was in withdraw but this one was different. This one was much worse than what she had gone through before.

Finally her terminal pinged with an incoming message. Glancing down at the screen Tracer dropped down in to her chair and noticed it was from Oil Slick.

“Oh, thank Primus.”

She focused on the message, her optics narrowing into tight slits.

“What?! No. 2.25 cycles is not enough time.”

She rested her head against the bulk head behind her chair as she tried to think of a way to finish up what needed to be done up here in less than a cycle and head down to Earth for her meeting. Slowly she lowered her head down and opened a comm channel with Smokescreen.

>>”Smokescreen. He just responded. He wants to meet me in 2.25 cycles which means we have to be out of here in less than a cycle if I’m going to make it in time for him to send me the coordinates. Please tell me you have the shuttle.”<<

Med Bay

Sprints fought the urge to shrug off Rodimus' hand. Why is he touching me? Sprints himself wasn't a very touchy-feely kind of 'Bot, and he didn't understand those who were. And this guy certainly was coming across as one.

Even more surprising-- and somewhat angering-- was what Rodimus said next. He read about Sprints, wanted to meet him? Primus, what kind of weird-circuited slag is this guy? He's...

He's a commander, and he's like Optimus Prime's brother. We'd do well to learn from him, and perhaps he can tell you who we are.

...What? Sprints reeled back for a moment, confused by this strange thought-voice again. Am I going fragging crazy?

Just then, Sprints heard Ratchet's call for help. Without a pause, he dashed toward the sound, his legs straining but holding up. Between that lack of pause and Sprints' higher agility and maneuverability due to his size, he reached the surgical unit where Ratchet was before Rodimus did.

"Slag--!" was the first thing out of Sprints when he saw the scene. Ratchet was on the floor, straddling Hex, who seemed to be struggling and trying to kill the medic. First Aid was nearby, with a syringe-- presumably of sedatives-- ready, but he seemed to be waiting until Hex was better restrained. Deciding speed was more important than finnesse in this situation, Sprints dove forward, nearly knocking Ratchet sideways off of Hex, and grabbed the young mech's arm, kneeling on it and pinning it beneath him. He then turned to face the medics.

"C'mon! Shoot him up, Aid!"

Armory / Corridors

Snarl chuckled at Sludge’s response to not shooting himself in the foot. It was the typical, dimwitted reply that one would expect from the Jungle Warrior. The larger Dinobot’s initial reaction to being handed the clips for his rifle was also typical, but at least this time Sludge realized what they were for by watching the Desert Warrior load his own weapon. “That right, clips for your weapon, Sludge.”

Before Snarl could say any more, the communique from Grimlock came over their comm lines, ordering them to meet at the docking tunnel that led over to the Ark-19. Sludge was the first one out the door and into the corridor. Naturally, he was confused as to which way to go. The Desert Warrior followed and platted his big companion on the shoulder plate. “It this way, Sludge,” Snarl gestured to their left before taking the lead and walking down the hallway towards their destination. Snarl then opened his comm line back to the Dinobot Commander:

>>”Grimlock, this Snarl. Me and Sludge on way to docking ring now. Be there soon.”<<

Switching off his comm line, Snarl rounded a corner only to run smack into another, smaller red and blue mech, who was then knocked backwards and to the floor. The Desert Warrior was unharmed, not to mention unmoved, by the collision. He simply looked down at the smaller ‘Bot and quickly realized that it was Smokescreen.

“Watch where you go, Smokey,” Snarl grumbled, a bit annoyed at the delay. “You get trampled by Dinobots if get in our way again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Snarl! I was in a hurry and didn’t see you there,” Smokescreen apologized as he quickly picked himself up, now seeing Sludge close behind the other Dinobot. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“Yes, you will,” Snarl barked back as he watched the rallybot go around him and Sludge and head back in the direction of the armory. “Tiny, weak Autobot. Him have no idea what about to happen.” The Desert Warrior’s last remark was directed back at Sludge, having no idea that while he was correct in the fact that Smokescreen was physically weak, the street racer was also one of the smartest and knew exactly what was about to happen.

Moving on from the encounter, Snarl led his Dinobot comrade down the corridor and to their rendezvous with Grimlock and their other teammates at the docking ring.

*********

Once Smokescreen had moved well past the Dinobots, he entered the Armory and quickly gathered up several extra energy clips for his electro-disruptor rifle as well as additional shells for his shoulder-mounted rocket launchers. As Smokey stowed away the additional ammo into subspace storage as well as loading the warheads into his launchers, he realized that he needed to move faster and not just because Tracer’s symptoms were likely getting worse by each passing astrosecond. Judging by the direction those two Dinodolts were headed in, they’re aiming to board the Ark-19 through the docking tunnel I just came back through. That means Grimlock’s scheme to steal the ship is about to happen. This couldn’t be better timing then if I had orchestrated the whole thing, myself. But I need to move now!

Smokescreen hurried back into the corridor and raced towards Tracer’s quarters as fast as his feet would carry him. He was just about to reach her door when he received a frantic transmission from her. Their time table was very limited base on how long her dealer had given her to reach the surface. It was problematic, but not something that couldn’t be overcome. The rallybot just hoped that the Dinobots would wrestle control of the 19 sooner rather than later. Otherwise, Smokey might be a little late in getting Tracer down to the surface.

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Not bothering to respond through their internal comm link, the diversion expert simply allowed the doors to open before stepping inside her quarters. “I’m back, Tracer,” Smokescreen said as he approached the withdrawal-stricken femme. “I’ve got everything that we’ll need. All we have to do is make our way over to the Ark-22 and grab us a shuttle and we’ll be on our way. Not only that, but thanks to the Dinobots we’ve got a pretty good diversion that’ll take Prowl’s attention away from us and put it squarely on them for the foreseeable cycles.”

The rallybot then pulled out the two signature suppressors and handed her one. “I got these from Wheeljack’s old lab. They’ll hide our signals so that our movements won’t be detected either on board or on the surface of the planet. I just need to connect it to your back.” Taking the device he was holding, he carefully approached Tracer and reached around her torso, placing the suppressor against her back where it clicked into place. “There, now that wasn’t so bad, was it? And it shouldn't affect our transformations, either.”

Smokescreen then flashed her a gentle smile as he caressed her shoulder, before turning around so that his own back was facing her. “Now, you do the same to me. Just slip the device up underneath my satchel and it’ll automatically connect itself. Then, we can get outta here.” The red and blue mech loosened his backpack’s straps slightly in order to give Tracer more room to place the suppressor.

Corridor approaching Bridge

“That’s why I didn’t mention it to him,” Prowl responded to Kup’s comment regarding the Dinobot Commander and his violative temper. It was a miracle that Grimlock had not struck the black and white anyway, regardless of whether or not he knew of Prowl’s plan to bring in someone else. The whole meeting had not exactly gone how he had planned it, but it did yield some results that were positive such as the exchange of needed information, especially the data that Perceptor was certainly pouring over at the moment.

The military strategist then received transmissions from both Ironhide and Hot Spot, advising him of their current stasis. Prowl sent silent replies to both field commanders before brining his attention back to the old timer walking next to him. Kup was curious as to whom Prowl had called in to take charge and the analyst had no problem divulging the identify of said mech.

“The Autobot in question is perfect for the job, in my opinion. He’s an accomplished city commander with more than enough experience to get the job done right. He’s actually someone you should know quiet well, Kup.” Prowl paused for a moment as they stopped at the doors to the bridge, allowing them to slide open. “It’s Ultra Magnus, and he should be here within the next few cycles by my calculations.” The black and white then walked onto the bridge, knowing that the old warhorse wouldn’t be far behind.

Medical Bay

Hardhead became angry as he listened to Rodimus respond to his query. There had, in fact, been another battle and apparently it was another fuel raid that resulted in Axle and Hex both being off-lined in very violent ways. Prowl, in the mean time, seemed to not understand that a preemptive strike would be a better option than just letting the Decepticons run rampant across the planet below. Even the femm-bus, Saferoute, understood that doing nothing was a bad idea.

“Prowl is an idiot,” Hardhead finally spoke up, not caring that Rodimus had moved on to conversations with other nearby mechs. “We need to hit the Decepticons now, before we lose the advantage. Although, with all of the time currently wasted, it may already be too late for that. The enemy now has two fuel raids under their belts, giving them plenty of energon to mount a pretty decent defensive against an attack. Still, if we wait any longer, it’ll be the ‘Cons that preemptively strike against us!”

Hardhead’s own tirade was then interrupted by the outburst from Hex, who was now awake and attacking First Aid in some kind of frantic state. An Autobot called Sprints jumped into action to help Ratchet hold the young mech down while First Aid grabbed the sedatives. The war veteran rushed over to the surgical suite, reaching the hectic scene at about the same time as Rodimus and many of the others.

Hardhead maneuvered around those who were already on top of Hex and knelt down above the crazy mech’s cranial unit. The green warrior then placed a firm hand on the silver Autobot’s chest plate, holding his upper torso against the floor with ease. “I’ve got him. Just give him the damn sedative already!”

Docking Ring to Ark-19

Snarl reached the docking ring that lead to their future mode of transportation. No one else had yet arrived at the spot yet, but he knew that Grimlock was not far away and would likely be there momentarily. The Desert Warrior then glanced back to see if Sludge was still behind him. Not seeing the Jungle Warrior at first, Snarl called out to his larger comrade. "Hey, Sludge! Where you at? You didn't get lost did you?"

Medical Bay

Ratchet had wrestled Hex onto his back with the CMO trying to pin the youngling’s arms to the floor, but Hex was slightly stronger than the medic, and with him in this enraged state, Hex was even stronger. Slipping his right hand from under Ratchet’s grip, Hex reared back and let loose a punch that knocked the medic’s head backwards. He quickly recovered and lowered his head to look down at the struggling mech.

Agh! Damnit! First Aid would you give him the sedatives already!”

First Aid paced back and forth trying to find an exposed energon line, but with Ratchet in the way, he couldn’t find one.

“I can’t, not with you in the way!”

Rodimus was cut off by Sprints as the smaller mech shot past him and into the surgical suite where the whole ordeal was going down. Rodimus pulled to a stop just inside the doorframe he took in the sight of Ratchet straddled on top of Hex who was struggled to get free form under the mecic.

Sprints quickly moved in to position kneeling on the young mech’s arm. Hex let out a pained cry as the weight of Sprints’ knee crumpled the thin plating on his arm.

“Let up! I have no intention of replacing his plating again,” Ratchet yelled to the scout/reconnaissance mech.

With his still free hand Hex lashed out and sent a left punch to Ratchet’s right cheekplate causing the medics head to whip back once more.

“AGH!”

The youngling was much stronger than the medic had anticipated. Looks are certainly deceiving, Ratchet thought. Again, First Aid circled the struggling mechs but there still wasn’t an exposed energon line on the youngling.

“I can’t get to an exposed energon line, not with you guys on top of him!”

At that moment the large form of Hardhead entered the suite and jumped in to action by kneeling down above Hex’s cranial unit and placed a firm hold on the struggling mech’s upper torso.

With the pressure from Hardhead and Sprints, Hex let out a wild scream and bucked up off the floor tossing Ratchet off his hips. With the CMO sprawled across the floor next to Hex, Rodimus moved in to take up the position.

Hex took a quick look up and noticed the red and orange mech, one he had never seen before straddled over him. He caught Rodimus’ optics with his own, Hex’s optics widened as he let out another scream of anger.

With his free hand Rodimus took hold of the young mech’s cranial unit and pushed it to the right revealing his main energon line that ran down the side of his neck.

“First Aid, here!” Rodimus looked up at the doctor.

Without hesitation the Protectobot knelt down and quickly inserted the syringe and pushing the sedatives.

A moment went by and Hex’s struggling finally slowed, his head lolled to the side as he took in the forms of Ratchet and then Rodimus who had finally stood back up.

“I wanna see Axle,” his voice was low and tinged with some static.

Tracer’s Personal Quarters

Tracer grew nervous when she didn’t receive a response from Smokescreen. She was about to open up another link to him when her door slid open revealing the form of the red and blue rallybot. The scout’s lips parted slightly before she pressed them tightly together again and approached him.

At his explanation as to what kind of distraction the Dinobots would be to them, Tracer flashed him a small smile. He had really come through for her, without question he moved into action to help her get what she needed.

Her attention was brought back to him when he mentioned Wheeljack’s lab and the signature suppressors. Before she could question whether he had spoken to the engineer, Smokescreen approached the shaky scout and reached around her to attach the suppressor. She hadn’t expected him to move in so closely, but she willed herself not to move away from him.

When he finally pulled away on his own and flashed a gentle smile she could almost feel her spark skip a pulse…almost. A small smile made it to her face as he caressed her shoulder. Taking the device he had passed to her, Tracer took a long look at the former racer’s back. Off-lining her optics for a moment the scout let out a low sigh. How could she do this to him? How could she drag him in to this? She didn’t care if she got caught, but if he was she’d never forgive herself.

On-lining her optics, she moved in close to his back and carefully slipped the small device under his satchel and on to his back. Once attached she placed the chevron on her forehead against his upper back and ran her hand down until it came to rest at the small of his backstrut.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you in to this. Please, forgive me for being so weak,” her voice was low, no more than a whisper.

Corridors Near the Medical Bay

Streetwise had been assigned to the bounce chamber. He'd operated it mechanically until the time came when he could fall back to his quarters. He mourned Optimus's death-no, disappearance-privately. He simply couldn't believe that their leader was gone. It was unthinkable. Streetwise wasn't sure how much time had passed. When he came out of his quarters, the Guardian had seemed completely deserted. He noticed there was hardly anyone on board now. It disturbed him.

Where on earth is everyone?

As Streetwise passed the Medical Bay, he heard a commotion. He recognized Ratchet's voice calling over to his teammate, First Aid, for sedatives. Streetwise ran inside of the medical bay and took in the scene unfolding before him. Hex, a young Autobot, seemed to have lost his mind. Streetwise was about to jump in to help when First Aid finally injected the sedatives into an exposed energon line. The crisis averted, Streetwise turned his optics to the surrounding 'Bots. A tall fiery stature caught his optic. He rubbed the back of his cranium.

Who in the name of Prime is that?

Streetwise shook his head and turned to look for someone who wasn't occupied that could give him some answers. He spotted Groove, who was near Slingshot, and walked over to him. "Yo Groove," Streetwise began as he kept a careful optic on Hex in case of any more outbursts, "What's goin' on? Why's everyone banged up?"

Streetwise knew his stream of questions might upset Groove, but he had to know what was going on. He blamed himself for not coming out of his quarters earlier. He could've been doing something productive. Streetwise mentally shrugged. Nothing could be done about the past, but he could do something now. With this line of thinking, Streetwise added on another question to his string of them. "Anything I can do to help?"