The Energon Pub

Med Bay

A triumphant grin sprawled across Blades' face-plate as Streetwise finished offering his thoughts on the subject. Groove was dearly hoping he was capable of cumulating his support but that wasn't the case. Streetwise might have been dancing around the issue in question, somewhat, but it mattered little. Essentially, he did not agree with Groove.

“Well put, Streetwise.” Blades flashed him a smile as he pat him on the shoulder-plate. “You see, Groove, too much has happened during this war to...forgive any of those fragged up loonies. We've lost too many friends and good Autobots to even think about forgiveness.”

He had never considered doing such a thing, of course, but mechs like Groove, who were perpetually presenting alternatives to war and excusing the maniacal behaviour of their foes, did. On a regular basis. And if he kept it up, it was most likely going to get him killed, sooner rather than later.

“And what's this? Peace and friendship with the Decepticons?” Blades laughed, the brief sound slathered with mockery. “Why don't you just ask Primus to solve our problems instead, hm? You know, ask him to have a good sit down with the 'Cons and tell them how naughty they've been and how they need to clean up their act. I mean, since you want to waste time by making a few pals in their ranks, you might as well do something else as stupid.”

Anger. That was precisely the emotion governing Blades at this moment. Groove was an extremely intelligent Autobot, but he could never understand why he believed peace was going to succeed the unceasing conflict maintaining the war.

“By the way.” Blades fired a glare at Groove. “This weakling saved your aft from being scrapped. And this weakling could have annihilated Breakdown if he wanted to, but he showed discipline and left him to be.” He permitted silence to trail his words, his glare still attached to his team-mate's visage. “Don't you ever call me a weakling again.”

Medical Bay Proper

The vastness of space and the bright light of thousands of stars reflected in ice blue optics as Rodimus peered out of the window. This war had gone on long enough. But what did he care. His mission was not to end a conflict that had raged on for millennia. No, he was here to gather heralds. A front is what he needed in order to find who he needed, and the body he’s currently occupying was the perfect cover.

His lip curled slightly as he listened to Hardhead’s response. This warrior was perfect. He would perform very well under his command and as his herald. He had chosen well.
Rodimus looked over at the green warrior once Hardhead had apprised him of just what they should do. The flame emblazoned mech nodded in agreement.

“Yes. And I believe I know who we should speak with first.”

Finally turning completely away from the window and leaving the speckled background to others to gaze at, Rodimus scanned around the room searching for the two mechs he wanted to speak with. There. One of them admonishing his own teammate. Such atrocity. Such anger. The perfect recruit.

“Blades. He is so bitter that this war has not ended that he has taken a step that no one should have to. Attacking Groove. No one should have to become so furious that he is reduced to fighting his own comrade.”

Rodimus flashed his compatriot a stern gaze. Hardhead was his now. He would do as he is told; there was no fear in that. And once the youngling was back on his feet both of his heralds could be used to convince the others that a trip to this blue/green planet’s surface was a priority. The lie: to pinpoint the Decepticons’ current location. The truth: to take hold of his final two heralds.
____

Even with his face mask in place anyone observing First Aid would be able to discern that the doctor was actually smiling. The demeanor of the Aerialbot commander did not go unnoticed by the Protectobot. Of course he really couldn’t blame Silverbolt for being apprehensive. After all he did tell him that his optics would need to be removed. That alone would make anyone squeamish.

“Don’t worry Silverbolt. I’ll get everything back in order as quickly as possible. You’ll have your sight returned in no time.”

First Aid pressed his hand to the large jet’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I promise.”

The white and red doctor let out a light chuckle.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to avoid Ratchet. He can be a bit…how can I put this…serious. He’s so temperamental, and from what I’ve been told crotchety, that Sideswipe has begun referring to him as “The Hatchet”.”

The chuckle that came after was cut off quickly by a voice coming from behind the surgery suite’s doors.

“My pistons may be rusty, but my hearing is as sharp as ever!”

First Aid cringed at the volume in which the CMO had projected before looking back down at Silverbolt.

“Yeah. You know what I mean.”
____

The Autobots’ CMO shook his head after sending his verbal response to First Aid’s explanation of his bedside manner. Ratchet’s hands were wrist deep within Axle’s chest, the wiring was frayed, fuel lines torn in half and he still couldn’t find that last damned energon line tear. Frustration was getting to him.

“Slaggit, Axle! You had to go and be the hero. I told you it’d get you in trouble one day. Fraggin’ kids never listen!”

Gritting his teeth, Ratchet dug deeper in to the field medic’s innards. At last, a broad smile made its way to the white and red mech’s visage.

“There you are you pit spawned slag ridden…”

From one of the medical slabs behind the main surgical table, Hex began to stir. The sedative that First Aid had administered was already wearing off letting the young mech’s systems reboot. He was still a bit groggy, but otherwise he was able to focus.

Hex let out a low groan as his optics finally lit up, dimly at first, but they quickly brightened. It was Ratchet’s yelling that had finally brought him fully out of the fog.

“Slaggit Ratchet. Do ya have to be so loud?”

The CMO shot Hex an incredulous glare. What the frag is he doing up?

“Well. I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so soon. How do you feel?”

“Agh. I feel like I went a million rounds with Megatron.”

“Well, you look like it.”

“Har, har.”

Hex finally lifted himself up from the slab and swung his feet to hang off its side.

“You’re a regular riot.”

Hex let out a heavy sigh when he took in Axle’s prostrate and mangled form.

“Is he gonna make it?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

“He better, because I’m gonna kill him.”

Briefing Room

Prowl took a seat at the large conference table directly next to Kup. As he settled in, the black and white received a strange, garbled transmission over his comm line from an unknown source. He couldn’t ascertain what it was and therefore simply shrugged it off as some kind of glitch in his comm system. I’ll have to get Ratchet to take a look at that, Prowl thought to himself as the analyst returned his attention to the aged mechs in front of him.

Prowl focused on the task at hand and listened intently to Ironhide’s description of what went on during the Iranian skirmish with the Seekers. On the surface it sounded like your basic fuel raid, but the military strategist suspected something more was going on and had felt that way for some time and Ironhide’s account of what transpired only served to strengthen that notion. Was getting fuel one of the enemy’s objectives? Sure, but it wasn’t the only one and probably not even the main one. Could it really have been about payback for the loss of their base? Maybe, but that would be a waste of resources that even Starscream would know better than to squander especially since the ‘Cons had already lost so much.

“It almost seems like the ‘Cons were stalling us, keeping us busy,” Prowl spoke up once Ironhide had finished speaking. “A diversion, perhaps.” The black and white’s train of thought was then interrupted by Hot Spot’s transmission that he was repaired and now on his way to the bridge. It was strange, though, as this communique was clear as a bell, while the previous one was a muddled mess of static. Again Prowl shrugged it off and sent a non-verbal acknowledgement back to the Protectobot leader.

Prowl returned his focus to both Kup and Ironhide with the intention of continuing their conversation. However, once again they were interrupted, this time by a distress signal coming in over standard Autobot frequencies. The military strategist leapt up from his chair and approached a nearby terminal in order to access the data that was coming in. The source of the beacon was from an escape pod floating near the ships, but there was also a troubling addendum to the distress call that said there were possible saboteurs on board and to arrest them on sight.

“We have a problem,” Prowl stated plainly. “We need to get back onto the bridge now.” Wasting no time, the black and white quickly exited the briefing room and was back in the command chair within astroseconds.

Bridge

Tapping his actuators on the chair’s keypad, Prowl brought up an image of the escape pod on the main view screen. At the same time, he received yet another transmission, this one from Jazz, who was apparently inside the pod. The white mech frantically informed him that the Dinobots had stolen the Ark-19 and were getting away. The strategist shifted his focus to a secondary view screen that showed the starboard side of the Guardian where the 19 should be docked. Instead, empty space filled the smaller screen.

What the frag is going on? Prowl thought as anger welled up inside him. It was a lot of information to take in at once as everything was happening so quickly. However, Prowl had no problem assimilating and processing all of the data he had received thus far and deciding on an immediate course of action, doing his best to leave emotions out of the equation.

>>”I read you Jazz. Just sit tight and I’ll bring you in.”<<

Prowl cut the comm line and initiated the frigate’s tractor beam, locking on to the small escape pod with ease and guiding it into the hangar bay. He then opened another channel to the Protectobot Commander:

>>”Hot Spot, this is Prowl. Change of plans. Grab a few mechs and head down to the hangar. There’s an escape pod down there containing the repair crew from the Ark-19. Use caution, however. It’s possible that a saboteur could be on board.”<<

Prowl knew it was unlikely that a saboteur was among the repair crew, but he didn’t want to take any chances just the same. It could very well be a way for Grimlock to distract him from what was really going on, or maybe it was the truth and someone intended on disabling the Guardian in order to allow the Dinobots to escape. Regardless, Prowl’s focus turned to finding the Ark-19. The external scanners quickly located the fleeing ship as it rocketed away from Earth’s orbit. The military analyst then opened yet another comm line to the skyjackers aboard the 19:

>>”Grimlock, if you and your unit are on board the Ark-19 you are ordered to stop and return here immediately. Failure to do so will leave me no choice but to brand you all as traitors, subjecting you to court marshall and a possible sentence on Garrus-9. Do you understand, Grimlock? Bring back that ship now!”<<

Medical Bay Proper

Hardhead nodded as he too looked over at Blades, the copter-former showing a considerable amount of anger towards one of his own. He was clearly the perfect choice as a first recruit and would likely side with him and Rodimus without much coercing. “Blades is almost a certainty for us. Although, one never knows for sure and thus we must be careful how exactly we approach him.”

The green warrior stroked his chin as he considered other potential candidates both within the med bay and in other parts of the ship. “Hex might be a worthwhile pick, but he is very unstable emotionally. He will have to be reigned in and kept a close watch on. The twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, are also strong contenders. I know neither one of them have any love for Prowl or his logical methods. They would most certainly be worthwhile in pursuing.”

Hardhead then glanced around the room once more, this time spotting a strange mech he was unfamiliar with, leaning up against a far wall. He looked almost like a Predacon by his outward design, only his coloring was different, sporting a hunter green and black scheme instead of the usual orange and yellow. The war veteran quickly deduced that the mech in question must be Howlstrike, a former member of Razorclaw’s elite squad of vicious butchers.

“Is that the ex-Predacon, Howlstrike, over there? He appears to be watching us. I only know him by reputation, but from what I hear he has a violent streak in him with very few friends to speak of. Perhaps I should speak with him. He could make a good addition to our cause. Do you think he would side with us, Rodimus?”

*********

Howlstrike had remained motionless for several breems, leaning against a bulkhead along one side of the med bay proper. His optics never flickered as he closely watched the movements of Rodimus as he approached Hardhead’s CR chamber and whispered something inaudible as he had before with Hex. Not long after, the green warrior finally awakened fully repaired and seemingly normal. Then chaos erupted in the surgical suite where Hex had apparently lost all sense of control and attacked the medics. Watching the self-proclaimed Prime move to restrain the young ‘Bot before injecting him with the sedative made Howl move away from the wall a short distance in order to get a clearer look. It was impressive that the cavalier had handled the situation so smoothly, but that did not make him a leader, nor did it infuse any sense of trust within the former Predacon. Howl felt no need to intervene, himself, as he had no knowledge of medicine and would simply get in the way of those more qualified to handle things. Besides, those already present would likely not want or accept his help anyway.

Instead, Howlstrike moved back against the wall and continued leaning against the bulkhead as Rodimus and Hardhead exited the surgical suite and moved over towards the window that looked out upon the stars. Their words did not reach the hunter’s audio receptors as they were too far away, but he could still tell that the duo had struck a cord with one another and appeared to be plotting something together. It certainly seemed that Rodimus was already convincing some that he was the one to lead the Autobots forward. The flame-covered mech was still a long way from converting everyone, but with the uncharismatic Prowl currently in charge it might not take too long to draw others to the former cavalier’s side.

Still, Howlstrike had no real proof of his suspicions since he could not hear their conversations. Therefore, the tracker remained where he was, hoping that Ratchet or one of the other medics would soon find time to conduct the tests that Rodimus had come down here for in the first place. Until then, Howl would continue to wait and watch.

Med Bay Proper

Groove's spark sank as Streetwise gave his answer. It wasn't a complete surprise that he didn't see things as the scout did, but it was disappointing none the less.

No, it's not too late. It's NEVER too late. It's only too late when we finally give up.....

Then Blades went back on Groove's case. While Streetwise had given an answer that seemed more diplomatic, the Protectobot aerialist didn't pull any punches, just like in battle. Groove was then taken back as Blades fired back, having misinterpretted an earlier comment. The scout had some difficulty looking the street fighter in the optics as he gave Groove a piercing glare that looked like it would cut through armor like a fully charged energon sword. Groove raised his hands in front of him as he tried to calm down his teammate.

"I wasn't saying you were weak, I was just pointing out Motormaster's perception of our team. Except for maybe Hot Spot, you know that's how he sees us, and regardless of which one of us took him down you know he won't tolerate any of the Stunticons being beaten by any Protectobots.", Groove carefully explained, "And despite what you may think, I am grateful for you saving me, today and all the other times past. I may not agree with your methods or your views, but I do respect you and believe that in the end you'll do the right thing."

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

For a loud and boisterous bot like Warpath, it was odd not to be noticed. Yet there were Hardhead and Rodimus talking to each other as if the crimson warrior wasn't even there. It was quite awkward, almost embarrassing for the tankbot.

"So, uh, BLAM, about that drink....", Warpath tried to get their attention, but they were clearly focused on something else.

Warpath tried to listen in on their conversation, which seemed a bit odd. Something about recruiting other bots for something, several bots names were mentioned, and Warpath wasn't one of them. He didn't hear too many details. For some reason he felt like he was evesdropping on something he had no business in hearing. Just being near them made him feel oddly out of place.

"Uh yeah, WHAM, I'll just head down and get a drink myself. BANG, you two are free to join me if you want...", Warpath awkwardly said as he walked away.

Medical Bay Proper

Rodimus nodded at Hardhead’s quick agreement on introducing Blades to their side of thinking. Having a group of mechs who believed that he would be the future of the Autobots would help him pursue his real purpose. At the mention of the young Hex, Rodimus could do nothing more than send Hardhead a smile.

“You have read my mind, my friend. Hex seems to be unsure of the Autobot cause and has become lost in his ways. We will be able to calm his conscious and convince him that he will make a difference in the future of this faction. Talk with him. I am sure he will be willing to listen.”

At the mention of the twins Rodimus had to agree. They were loose cannons and usually at odds with the officers, especially Prowl. Having Sunstreaker and Sideswipe backing them would also provide a chance that some of the other warriors would follow suit.

Rodimus raised a hand to his chin and gave it a gentle rub before he looked to the former Predacon Hardhead had mentioned. A slight smile crossed his features as he nodded.

“Yes. His name is Howlstrike. He has been following me under orders from Prowl. My initial reason for visiting the med bay was to have a series of tests done to prove I am who I say I am. Unfortunately you all arrived and took priority over my testing.”

“I am not in a hurry to take Ratchet away from his work right now. Axle’s repairs take precedence over anything I’ll need done.“

The flame-covered mech sent Hardhead a warm smile before he looked in Howlstrike’s location.

“He would most certainly be a very good addition to our cause. As far as him agreeing to side with us, that would be entirely up to him. I do not wish to force anyone to do something they have not had the chance to discover for themselves. Speak with him. Let him know where Prowl stands and where we both stand. Help him understand that he will need to see things for himself and that once he realizes that Prowl and command are only interested in prolonging this war that he will be welcome amongst us.”

Rodimus placed a hand on the green warrior’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He finally nodded before releasing Hardhead’s shoulder and turned away. He didn’t get too far when he came across a slightly dejected and somewhat out of place Warpath. Rodimus offered the warrior a nod.

“I would like to join you Warpath.”

He cast a gaze at the small grouping of Protectobots not far away.

“I would also like it if you all would join us as well. Please.”

Rodimus waved a hand in front of him bidding Blades, Groove and Streetwise the opportunity to join he and the tank-former.

Med Bay

Sometimes anger ruled supreme over Blades' reactions, even at the most critical junctures. It usually got the better of him while debating the same old issues with Groove, though neither of the ardour and principles they advertised during their eternal altercation displayed any signs of deterioration. If anything, their beliefs had become even stronger, their arguments more intense.

And sometimes that led to certain words being expressed. Words that never should have been pronounced, nor cultivated in the core processor.

“Look, Groove.” Blades folded his arms tightly as if shielding himself from a looming assault of unknown magnitude. He couldn't meet his team-mate's optics, his own concentrating on anything and everything else. “You're, uh... You're welcome. And, yeah, our methods and views will probably always be at odds, but I've always got your back no matter what.”

Blades wasn't great at the whole sentimental thing despite the truth that was wrapped around his every spoken word. He would much rather slice open some scum-sucking Decepticon and rip out his internal systems with his bare actuators. But he owed Groove his version of an apology for his threatening and overly aggressive conduct.

He nodded slowly, assuming Groove had accepted his roundabout apology. “Yeah, so we're cool now, right? Good.”

He might have had opened up slightly, unveiling a glimpse of his rare “softer side”, but that was all for today. He'd leave the mushy stuff to the experts, particularly when the med bay was still generously populated.

“I would also like it if you all would join us as well. Please.”

Shifting his gaze in the direction of the somewhat familiar voice, Blades noticed Rodimus was waving to him, in addition to the other two Protectobots. He owned not the vaguest idea on what he wanted but concluded to humour him nonetheless. It wasn't as though Blades was engaged in anything riveting.

He walked over to Hardhead and Rodimus. “Do I know you? Because you look awfully familiar.” He snapped his fingers as if a hint had suddenly supplied him with an answer. “Hot Rod? Is that you?”

Recorded Message to Prowl from Grimlock

As the Ark-19 took off the follow message was delivered directly to Prowl and Prowl alone.

>>”Prowl, this Grimlock. This message set to be sent to you once we gone. Me guessing you angry, even if you not admit it, that we stole the ship. First we not steal ship, we taking it to get repaired. It wasting too much time and effort trying to get it fixed here with minimal resources. Need fully functioning ship to fight Decepticons here. Me and Dinobots come back with one.

Now, if you thinking about sending out warrants for our arrest, let me tell you two things. First, me do outrank you, and me not done anything arrest worthy. We just taking ship in for repairs and bringing back fully operational ship. The other thing, if you still do try and get us arrested, me will feel compelled to tell others everything that happened. Tell everyone Prime dead and you trying to hide it. Maybe they believe me, maybe they don’t. Me guessing either way they will want to talk to Optimus, and when they can’t your secret will be out. Me thinking it best if you keep mouth shut and let me come back with help. Just hang tight, keep things together and me be back with help that will change this war for the better.”<<

*

Bridge

Kup and Ironhide followed behind Prowl as he rushed back onto the bridge. It took a moment for them to figure out what all was going on.

Kup was shocked by Grimlock’s brazen actions. The Dinobots were known for some rebellious acts and doing things on their own, but this seemed pretty extreme even for them. It was going to leave the rest of them in a tight spot. “I knew Grimlock wasn’t taking things very well, but I didn’t think he would go this far. What the slag does he think he’s doing? I don’t think we can stop them now with the lead they’ve got.”

Ironhide on the other hand was just angry. He was loyal to the Autobots almost to a fault. Actions like what the Dinobots were doing were nearly unthinkable to him. “Those Dinodummies are going to leave us pretty undergunned and underpowered here. I hope the lot of ‘em end up in a prison or worse after this.

*

Corridors

Hot Spot stopped in his tracks at the signal from Prowl. The Protectobot was startled to hear about possible saboteurs but he wasn’t going to take any risks. He sent and immediate acknowledgement back to him as he turned around and began jogging to the hangar. For an assignment like this he wanted a couple of Bots he could count on implicitly, and that meant fellow Protectobots.

>>”Blades, Streetwise, meet me in the hangar. We are bringing on board an escape pod. There is a chance one or more of the occupants are saboteurs so make sure to come armed. I want to play this cautiously and be ready for anything.”<<

Medical Bay

Streetwise was relieved that Groove and Blades had worked their differences out. Being caught in the middle of a fight was never a good experience. Streetwise looked toward Rodimus as he offered for the group to join him. To join him in what, Streetwise didn't know, but he was willing to go along with it. He had been just about to suggest that they should get a drink anyway.

It was at that moment Streetwise received a transmission from the boss bot, Hot Spot. While Streetwise would have enjoyed some good company, he had been raring to get out into the field ever since Optimus's...disappearance. Streetwise flashed Rodimus an apologetic smile.

"Maybe another time...uh...ah...You look familiar."

Streetwise studied Rodimus trying to place him when Blades got it. Hot Rod? Was that really him? Primus, he looked so much different. He was sure there was a story behind Hot Rod's appearance, if indeed that was Hot Rod.

Med Bay Proper

The smile on the face of the self-proclaimed Prime was warm and inviting. Even though he was not believed to be a Prime, Rodimus exuded positivity and benevolence just as Optimus had done before him. The soldiers and warriors under the former Prime knew that he would do anything for them, and that is what Rodimus had to do. He needed all of the Autobots to feel that he would do just what had to be done…until he did not need them anymore. At that time he would release his heralds to remove both the Autobot and Decepticon factions.

With a small nod directed toward Blades, Rodimus addressed the aggressive Protectobot.

“Yes, we know one another, Blades. And I’m Rodimus now. My physical change occurred while the team I was assigned to was stationed on Cybertron.”

The flame covered mech turned at the sound of Streetwise’s voice. The interceptor hadn’t been far from his fellow Protectobot, Hardhead and Rodimus himself. He turned fully to face the police-mech and offered Streetwise a broad smile and an affirmative nod.

“As I was explaining to Blades, I am Hot Rod, but I’ve evolved in to someone more.”

Rodmus looked to his green comrade and smiled.

“I would like to speak with you both about a matter of great importance. Will you join me in the mess hall?”
_____

Ratchet flashed Hex an incensed glare as the youngling rubbed the back of his head and took a look around his surroundings. He hadn’t expected Hex to awaken so soon, especially after how much of the sedative First Aid had administered. But this was not the time to ponder just why the medical concoction did not work the way it should have, instead his focus needed to remain on Axle and repairing his wounds.

“Look, kid, if you’re not on the verge of termination I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the surgery suite so I can concentrate on your guardian.”

Hex shook his head before casting the CMO a sneer.

“Fine. But I wanna know the astrosecond he wakes up.”

“Whatever you say, now get out!”

The scout hopped off of the slab and slowly made his way to the door, but stopped just before exiting. Hex cast an apprehensive look over his shoulder at the prone form of his custodian. The young mech let out a low sigh before turning and exiting back in to the med bay proper.

Hex took a look around the room and noticed First Aid attending to Silverbolt while Streetwise and Blades were speaking with an older mech who he did not recognize. Groove stood a short distance away from his Protectobot comrades. The scout looked as if he’d just been slapped in the face. Hex let out a light chuckle before he made his way a bit closer to Rodimus and Hardhead. Eavesdropping was one of his specialties and finding out just what the small group was discussing seemed much more entertaining than finding a seat and waiting for Ratchet to give him an update on Axle’s condition.

Med bay

Well now. It appeared Blades did in fact know the Autobot standing before him. He could hardly be criticised for failing to recall Rodimus; the last occasion in which he had spoken with Hot Rod wasn't a past moment that could be summoned with ease. Indeed, it had been a while.

“You sure got taller, didn't you?” Blades had to lift his gaze to properly meet Rodimus' optics. “You and I used to be around the same height.” A slight smile crept on his lip components. “Not anymore, I guess.”

What a remarkable alteration Rodimus had experienced. Standing an increased seven feet taller—giving or taking a couple of feet in Blades' estimation—he possessed broad, powerful shoulder-plates and facial features containing wisdom beyond the maturity that now embellished his face-plate. If he were an organic, this would be the final product of his development: essentially an older looking, physically larger variation of Hot Rod.

Although it was difficult for Blades to comprehend, all the evidence he required was before him, returning his gaze. Rodimus strongly resembled Hot Rod in appearance, spoke with a similar tone of voice—only deeper—evidently knew his name, and still preserved the specific arrangement of yellow flames garnishing his chest-plate. There was no mistaking this individual.

As hard as it was to fathom, it was equally as challenging pulling away from the host of questions that demanded answers. Like energon rapidly filling a container to capacity, his core processor was beginning to swell with the flooding queries, threatening to overflow if he did not start seeking explanations.

At times, Blades presented himself as one who was solely interested in the chaos and brutality that war offered, but this he had to know about.

His expanding ocean of questions, however, vanished as he received a transmission from Hot Spot, noting possible saboteurs.

>>”We're on it, Hot Spot. Be right with you.”<< Blades ended the transmission and flung his attention to Streetwise. “You get that? Let's move!”

Saboteurs meant enemies. Enemies meant trouble. Trouble meant conflict.

Blades began to jog out of the med bay. He increased the volume in his vocaliser and said to Rodimus, “Sorry, duty calls. I'll contact you after I've done this thing, all right?” He looked at Streetwise again. “Come on! Let's do this!”

Hangar

Without a moment to spare Blades arrived in the hangar. His optics darted from left to right repeatedly, but he could not locate danger of any variety nor anything out of the ordinary.

He quickly discovered the form of Hot Spot and jogged over to him. “What happened? What's going on?”

Medical Bay

Hot Rod's new appearance certainly came as a shock, but there were undeniable similarities. It had been a while since Streetwise spoke to Hot Rod as well. His deeper voice was only one of the perplexing traits of this transformation. Streetwise shook it off. He had a job to do.

Blade's enthusiasm to get out into the field made the interceptor chuckle. Streetwise waved farewell to Rodimus and jogged after Blades, managing to get alongside him. Saboteurs. Saboteurs meant trouble. How did they get onto the Guardian in the first place anyway? Maybe from one of the other ships? He didn't like it.

Hangar

When the two arrived in the hangar, Streetwise glanced around for the familiar form of Hot Spot. He spotted him almost immediately. He took another look around for any saboteurs, but Streetwise doubted they would be here. Most likely, they'd been in a crowd to conceal themselves or somewhere where they could do some serious damage.

Streetwise jogged up to Hot Spot and nodded to him in acknowledgement. "Hey, boss bot," he said in greeting, "Blades and Streetwise, reporting for duty."

Bridge

Once the Ark-19 had disappeared into hyperspace, Prowl slammed his right fist down onto the command chair’s console before rising to his feet, both fists now clenched tightly at his sides. Grimlock’s message then poured across his private comm line, which only served to enrage the analyst even further. The black and white very rarely allowed his emotions to overtake him, but there were instances when they crept to the surface and this was one of those times.

Grimlock had always been stubborn, wanting to constantly test authority and do things the hard way, regardless of the trouble he often caused. But, now he had gone and stolen an Ark-class warship in order to take it for proper repairs as he claimed. The Dinobot leader’s reasoning that it was not really theft was as flawed as was his assertion that he outranked the military strategist. At best, they shared the same rank, but even that was dubious at this point. Considering Grimlock’s long absence stemming from the last time he disobeyed orders, it was very possible that Optimus never reinstated his high rank at all.

Regardless, that was the least of Prowl’s worries. The part of Grimlock’s communique that both angered and concerned him the most was where the Dinobot Commander threatened to expose the fact that Optimus was gone to anyone who would listen to him. The revelation that Prime was likely dead had to be handled with great care as to not hurt morale in the ranks galaxy wide. The black and white had already seen the effects first hand here in the Sol System. He shuttered to think of the ramifications if other Autobots learned the truth from a mech like Grimlock. It could only lead to widespread rumors and panic, which would only give the Decepticons the advantage on a broader scale. No, it was not time to reveal the truth yet until a new leader had been decided upon.

Therefore, Prowl really had no choice in the matter. “Let them go,” he muttered as he turned away from the main view screen that showed nothing now but empty space where the Ark-19 once occupied. The black and white faced both Kup and Ironhide, a defeated and angry look spread across his faceplate. “I agree that they should face justice, but we can’t catch them or even track them at this point. They could have gone anywhere on any foolhardy escapade. I received a private message from Grimlock moments after the ship went into transwarp. He says he’s taking it to get repaired and then he’ll be back, if you can believe him at all. Of course, if it’s like the last time Grimlock and his brood disappeared, we may not even see them again for another hundred vorns. Primus willing.”

Prowl let out a stressful sigh as he straightened his posture and began to reign in his escaping emotions. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the mech power to spare chasing after him, either. We’re already under gunned as it is. If Grimlock does comes back here, I’ll deal with him at that time. Until then, we have to remain focused on what we need to accomplish here in the Sol System.”

Medical Bay Proper

Hardhead listened to everything Rodimus had to say regarding those who would make good recruits to their cause. Speaking with both Hex and Howlstrike would be challenging for the green warrior, but he had never backed down from a challenge in his existence and he wasn’t about to start now. It might not be one forged on the field of battle, but sometimes the greatest of challenges came from outside the combat zone.

“I’ll do my best to persuade them to join our cause, Rodimus,” Hardhead replied as the flamed-covered mech turned to invite Warpath and some of the Protectobots to join him for drinks. They seemed to want to take the fiery Autobot up on his offer, engaging him in friendly conversation before Streetwise and Blades were called away by their unit commander.

In the meantime, Hex had awakened from his sedative-induced slumber and decided to leave the surgical suite and move closer to the small group around Rodimus where he began to eavesdrop on their conversations. Noticing his approach, Hardhead turned and looked over to the young ‘Bot and gave him a warm smile.

“Hello, Hex,” the green warrior said as he turned to face the silver mech. “I’m glad to see that you’re up and about again. You are more than welcome to join our conversation if you like. Rodimus and I were just discussing our options in this neverending war that Prowl and the other higher-ups seem to want to see continue forever. All they do is sit around while the ‘Cons attack us and get away with it. We want to change all that, but we can’t do so without support. Would you be interested in hearing me out, Hex, and possibly making a real difference again?”

*********

Howlstrike continued to watch from the sidelines as several more mechs began to gather around Rodimus and Hardhead as the self-proclaimed Prime had motioned for them to do so. It was almost like a cult leader gathering his flock of supporters or potential supporters in this case. It all seemed rather odd, but then again everything about the former cavalier and how he had acted in recent cycles seemed a bit off if not just plain weird. Still, the tracker’s curiosity had finally gotten the better of him and he decided to move out from his secluded location and make his way over to the huddled masses around the flame-covered Autobot.

As the former Predacon walked across the med bay proper, he noticed that two of the Protectobots had suddenly left the room in a hurry, apparently being called away on some important assignment. Even Warpath had begun to walk away, looking dejected. Only Hardhead and Hex remained as Hot Rod’s potential disciples for lack of a better word. Howlstrike couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit as he approached the group, looking curiously at the fiery mech in the center.

“So, you gathering an army now, Rodimus?” Howlstrike questioned, crossing his arms over his chestplate. “Seems you lost a few already by the looks of it. I guess this means your tests are on hold for now? I was so looking forward to seeing those results.”

OOC: Since the escape pod is in the Guardian's tractor beam I thought I'd post for Hoist here. If that's not ok please tell me and I'll edit and repost at Ark-19.


Escape Pod- Being Pulled by the Guardian's Tractor Beam


"There's no need to be so hard on yourself, Jazz", Hoist tried to reassure the special ops director, "We were all in this mess as soon as the Dinobots came aboard. And Ironfist will be fine. His internal repairs may take a little longer from some of the radiation he was exposed to, but he should be back online within a breem."

Hoist sat back as he and the others waited for something to happen, anything to happen, all the while keeping his optics looking out the window.

"I'll tell you one thing.", Hoist said regrettably, "That's the last time I try to tell someone a ship will explode without me on it. I was trying to stall for time, convince them to keep one of us on the ship to keep an eye on the engines. Just before you came in Swoop was already accusing us of tampering with the ship's systems."

The escape pod shook as Hoist noticed the Guardian's tractor beam grab them and bring them in. It brought a sense of relief, only to be ruined by the Ark-19 suddenly disappearing into the cosmic distance.

"Well slag, it looks like they got away.", Hoist said as he tried to hide his sense of defeat and disappointment.

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

Med Bay- Proper

"Well WHAM, that's more like it!" Warpath said excited to Rodimus, "It's always BAM better to drink with company."

As Hardhead parted ways, the crimson warrior followed behind the flamed mech as he invited the Protectobots to join as well, only for Streetwise and Blades to be called away for duty. Still, there was one Protectobot who hadn't been called away and wasn't busy.

"Well POW that's too bad. But BANG at least you'll come along, won't you Groove?" Warpath energenically asked the scout.

Groove was caught offguard by the sudden inquisition, having just managed to cool things down with Blades. Being confronted by the much larger and louder Warpath was always uncomfortable for the pacifist. As Warpath waited for an answer, Groove listened quite intently to Blades and Streetwises questions, and the newly named Rodimus' answers.

What kind of transformation could Hot Rod have undertaken on Cybertron? I can't possibly imagine, but I certainly want to hear., Groove thought to himself.

"Well I had actually wanted to wait for First Aid to finish so I could talk to him.", Groove nervously answered the two larger bots, "But it looks like he'll be busy for a while, so I might as well join you. I'd certainly like to hear about how things are on Cybertron, Rodimus."

"POW, glad to hear it Protecto-buddy!", Warpath enthusiastically replied as he grabbed the scout by the shoulder and brought him in close, "I tell ya, I've been BOOM dying to show off my new cannon since I got out of the CR chamber. Looks BLAM better than the old one, doesn't it?"

Groove squirmed as the much stronger warrior had him in what was no doubt a friendly grip, his free hand gesturing to the long cannon on his chest. It was, without question, one of the most uncomfortable situations he had ever been in.

"Uh, no offense Warpath,", Groove tried to gently tell the tank-bot, his movement being constrained by the larger mech's grip, "But-"

Before the scout could finish, Howlstrike, whom neither Warpath or Groove had even noticed until now, walked in on the group. The tankbot's eyes narrowed, as he didn't entirely trust the former Predacon. In his mind, once a 'con, always a 'con.

Groove, however, saw the hunter as a sign of hope. Though Howlstrike was a warrior through and through, his defection to the Autobots had been proof to the scout's optics that there was still some chance for peaceful co-existance between the Autobots and Decepticons.

Though both Warpath and Groove had different opinions about Howlstrike, they both listened to him as he confronted Rodimus.

"WHAM, army? What's he talking about?", Warpath shouted, perplexed.

"What do you mean by tests?", Groove inquired, "Is there something wrong Hot Rod? I'm sorry, I mean Rodimus?"

Ark-19 Escape Pod

Jazz felt the almost gravity-like affect come into affect when the tractor beam was turned onto their escape pod. He nodded at Hoist who said that Ironfist will make a full recovery.

"Look, you were accused, but I actually tried to sabotage the 19. I deduced that the Dinobots were stealing the 19 when they literally took over the Bridge and Grimlock actually complimented me. No signal was getting out to Prowl, and it was really apparent when all of the doors were locked in a line to the docking ring, like a path for me to travel on," Jazz explained, embarrassed of his actions pulling the rest of the crew with him, "I broke into a console and manually opened the door, where I tried to melt the Plasma Manifold. Swoop and friends were there and, well..."

Jazz reached up to his flamethrower, where a clean slice was evident.

"...Lets just say it didn't work. It would have been an easy fix, as there was literally a replacement part on the ground in front of it, but I just assumed that the Dinobots were too... Eh... Dumb to know how to fix it." He said with a smile at his joke.

Jazz rubbed the back of his head, "It was done in the best of intentions."

He frowned at that last sentence, he remembered a Movie back on Earth. Something about Dinosaurs genetically engineered. But it was all done in the best of intentions. The worst things imaginable are done under the best of intentions.

Medical Bay Proper

The look on Hex’s face was akin to shock which quickly morphed into a deep scowl. Who the slag did Hardhead think he was? Being approached by another mech and asked to listen to some political psychobabble was something he was not used to, and when the large green warrior did it the action just became suspicious. But what he was saying made some sense. Prowl and the high ranking officers were doing nothing more than prolonging the war…prolonging the inevitable. The Autobots needed someone who was willing to make decisions, not only the hard ones but the right ones.

After a moment of silence he threw Hardhead a sideways glance, his optics narrowed in to narrow slits while he took in the taller mech’s expression. He seemed sincere, but he still wanted to tread lightly; after all this was a hard core warrior in the Autobot regime the last thing he wanted was to irritate him in anyway.

“Alright. I’ll hear ya out, but just remember I ain’t a ‘Bot. I don’t even wear the brand…not anymore. I’m only here because of Axle. So if you got somethin’ to say that’ll help me get back at those slaggin’ assants than I’m willin’ to listen.”
____

Rodimus watched as Blades and Streetwise both excused themselves, but it was Blades who called back letting the one time cavalier know that they would meet once he was finished with his current assignment. Streetwise seemed to be uninterested in just what he and Hardhead had to say. It doesn’t matter. This rouse can play out with as many or as few Autobots as needed. They will all be handy pieces in the great game no matter who decides to follow or not.

The smile that was on Rodimus’ face faltered a moment as he felt, before he heard, the former Predacon. This one will be troublesome, but it would certainly not be insurmountable to gain his trust, or be rid of him.

Without turning to face the wolf-former, Rodimus simply responded in a smooth even tone.

“Howlstrike, I am no more gathering an army than Prowl or any other potential candidate is. I am only trying to bring this war to an end, and I am willing to include anyone interested in the same.”

Rodimus finally turned to face Howlstrike a serene expression plastered on his face.

“Everyone is free to make their own choice in whom they wish to follow be it myself or Prowl, or anyone else. And I do not see a mech taking his leave as a loss. I see it as someone careful enough to make a thoroughly thought-out decision.”

Rodimus nodded to Warpath when the tank-former mentioned that he wished to hear more about Cybertron and its current state. The mention from Howlstrike concerning his delayed tests only bought a smile to the flame covered mech’s face. However, before he could respond, Groove chimed in. The scout seemed genuinely concerned which only made the faux Autobot feel more at ease. Such angst in this one. His anxiety over my wellbeing can very well be exploited. Rodimus flashed Groove a soft smile as he placed his hand gently on his shoulder. With a light squeeze the self-proclaimed Prime addressed the Protectobot.

“They are a necessity. Prowl has ordered that I be put through a battery of tests in order to prove that I am who I say I am. It would seem, however, that they have been put on hold for the time being. At least until Ratchet is able to perform them.”

Rodimus pulled back slightly so he was able to look down in to Groove’s optics. The slight variation in the hue of his optics was so minute one could not make it out. Hopefully Groove’s mind was open to his form of suggestion as it was to both Hardhead and Hex. Of course he would not be one to make the full transition in to one of his heralds, but having him under control would help the proceedings.

“Tell me Groove. Would you be willing to talk about ending the war; about bringing peace to our kind and going back to own home world?”

With his hand still resting on the scout’s shoulder Rodimus looked to the former Predacon.

“You were given a second chance at making things right. All I ask is to be able to do the same. Hear me out, Howlstrike. That is all I ask. The decision on what you do will ultimately be yours. But without all of the information that decision will be impossible to make.”

Medical Bay Proper

Hardhead was a bit taken aback by Hex’s assertion that he was no longer an Autobot and that he was only here to make sure Axle was well taken care of. The green soldier knew that the young mech had a lot of anger issues but Hardhead never realized just how disenfranchised Hex really felt towards the Autobots. He couldn’t really blame him. Even the war veteran, himself, often felt disassociated with everything that went on in the higher ranks now as his ideas were usually just swept away and ignored, replaced with more talking and less doing. At least Optimus would actually listen to him and praise his ideas before either accepting or rejecting those plans. Prowl was certainly not the same as Prime, no where near it.

“Alright, Hex, you’re not a ‘Bot,” Hardhead began, looking down at the smaller mech. “I don’t really blame you for that. The way things have been in the ranks, I can’t say that I feel much like an Autobot anymore, myself. And it didn’t just start with Prowl, either. Although, he’s certainly ruined things even more around here with his political maneuverings and strategies. All I want is to just take the fight to the ‘Cons without it being a reaction to something the enemy has already initiated. These recent skirmishes were useless and only served to get our men hurt, including Axle. Rodimus and I want to end this conflict once and for all. We want to find the ‘Cons and finally strike at them first and hard before it’s too late. The longer we loiter around here doing nothing the harder it will be to hit them decisively. Hex, if you want to get back at those slaggers then stick with us. Rodimus and I will help you get the retribution you deserve.”

Hardhead kept his optics locked on Hex, trying to gage an initial reaction from him. There was something about the young mech that intrigued the war veteran. He didn’t know exactly what it was about him, it just seemed like the two were almost connected somehow beyond their feelings regarding the current state of things. Hardhead hoped that his words had struck a cord within the silver ‘Bot as he awaited a response.
_________

Howlstrike listened as Rodimus did not flat out deny he was building an army, but simply likened what he was doing as being no different than Prowl or any other potential candidate for leadership rallying supporters around their cause. Howl remained stoic as the former cavalier finally looked at him, giving his assurance that everyone is free to make their own decisions on who to follow. The tracker felt little comfort in that as it sounded like what a true politician would say. Rodimus may claim to want action over words, but it appeared on the outset anyway that he was talking just as much as Prowl and the others currently were.

Howlstrike remained silent as Rodimus continued to draw in more potential supporters, such as Warpath and Groove, explaining to them why the tests were required as ordered by Prowl. The flame-covered mech then invited the peace-loving Protectobot to speak with him before turning his attention back to the former Predacon. The words Rodimus conveyed to him rang true. The tracker had been given a second chance a long time ago when Kup had accepted him into the Autobot ranks when no one else wanted to. So why not at least give the former cavalier the same courtesy now and listen to what he had to say?

“Fine, I’ll hear you out, Rodimus,” Howlstrike finally agreed, keeping a stoic look on his faceplate and his arms crossed over the wolf head that adorned his chest. “Explain to us why your way is better than everyone else’s and maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider joining your cause.” The Autobot hunter was still very skeptical of the former cavalier. However, he wanted to listen, regardless, not just because of the carefully crafted reasoning Rodimus had given him, but so that Howl could gather more information to eventually relay back to Kup and the others.

Ark-19 Escape Pod

Ironfist's optics flickered twice before briefly stabilizing in a low illumination level. He was in a sore need of a major recharge, not to mention damages he had suffered from... from? Ironfist's memory circuits were immediately sent through diagnostics. Short term memory files were corrupted, immediate erasure was performed the moment his internal power batteries were reactivated.

In the dim light of the escape pod, the weapon engineer slowly began to turn his head to take in exactly where he was. The facts were still blurred, but from what he could determine right off, the design of the pod interior was Autobot. At least that was a good sign. Shadows swarmed the far end of the pod, difficult to make out, voices slowly being recorded and registered, recognized.

The radiation levels he had submitted himself to were now taking their toll. His circuitry had been contaminated during the long repair shifts. In fact, he had not accepted recharge rotation in order to at least get the secondary power generator online.

"Best intentions..." He slowly croaked as his body still refused to respond to his commands to sit upright. "... often lead to worst results." His optics flickered again showing his low power levels, Ironfist ignored the warnings and shunted power from his extremities to reinforce his processors and Energon circulatory system.

"Question," He croaked again. "Is where we go... from here." The weapon's engineer released a burst of exhaust and he let his head rest back on the pod's bench. For the life of him, he couldn't remember how he got there nor could he remember why. The medical staff was going to have yet another fun time trying to restore those little missing pieces. Ironfist let a small grin crawl under his mouth guard. "At least we're still..."

Mess Hall

Nova Strike finished the final high octane Energon shot and crushed the canister in his right hand. He wadded the piece of thin polarized plastic into a ball and shot it over hand into the nearest recycling receptacle. His fingers curled into a fist and was swiftly brought back to the table with a concussive thump as the wad of material bounced around the lip of the receptacle before finally rolling down into the black abyss.

The Ranger flipped his hands palm down onto the polished steel surface and pushed himself to his feet. "I got an idea Bumblebee. Its getting really stuffy on board this bucket. Lets go see if we can't find a task to get us a day pass down to the surface." He scratched at his arm briskly, cleaning away a spot of dropped energon that had managed to escape the wadded container.

He walked over towards the door leading to the hallway when the ship shook violently as if a chunk had been torn off. Nova Strike's optics immediately turned to the monitor. It immediately flickered from the standard CNN (Cybertron News Network) Featuring Rain Dance and Rook as they did some investigation of some sort regarding the new Yavaria Defender Droids. Nova really hadn't paid attention to the report. But his optics were riveted now to the scene unfolding outside the Guardian. The magnetized locks that had held the Ark-19 in place on the other end of the docking tube, had been blown off by a set of micro charges. The Ark ejected a single pod before banking sharply towards the exit vector of the Sol Solar System.

In a moment the ship was out of visual range of the exterior sensors. Nova Strike's optics narrowed. Something wasn't right, he hadn't heard anything about the 19 being ready for permanent population. Perhaps Ironfist and his teammates were forced to evacuate the ship to the edge of the system because of some sort of fuel leak. Knowing the weapon engineer's reputation, he was definitely the sort to sacrifice himself just like his folk heroes the Wreckers. Nova Strike shook his head and waved off the images on the screen before it flickered back to the report from Rain Dance.

"I wonder what all that pomp and circumstance was all about?" He looked over to the superior officer. "At anyrate, perhaps we'll be able to get some work out in the bridge line."

Ark 19 Escape Pod

Hoist could tell that Jazz wasn't taking this well, and the mechanic certainly couldn't blame him. Between the three of them Jazz was the most capable fighter- he was special ops director, after all. There was no doubt that, though he hadn't been hurt that badly physically, the black and white mech's pride had been badly damaged from being taken out so quickly and easily.

"You tried to stop them to the best of your abilities, Jazz, and that's all that any of us could have done.", Hoist reassured him, "There's no sense dwelling over it my friend, it'll just make your circuits overheat- oh hey, we're in the Guardian's hangar now!"

As Hoist got up he noticed Ironfist start to stir. Hoist went to the weapon engineer's side to check on how he was doing- not well. The mechanic was a little startled to see the weakened state he was in, especially after his earlier scan hadn't detected any severe problems.

My scanner must have been hit earlier, I'll need to get that checked later. But right now....

"Easy there, Ironfist, there's no need to strain your motor relays.", Hoist tried to comfort him, calmly and slowly, "Slag took us all out by surprise and they threw us into an escape pod. But everything's all right now, we're back onboard the Guardian and we can get you to the med bay where you'll be all better."

At first Hoist tried to help the weapons engineer up, only to realize that Ironfist had no strength in his limbs.

"My my, you must have been running on shear willpower back on the Ark to be in this kind of shape.", Hoist calmly said as he carefully started to lift Ironfist onto his shoulder, "No problem, though. I may not be Dinobot strong, but I should have enough strength to carry you."

Gently Hoist put the weapons engineer's wait onto his shoulder. Thankfully there wasn't much damage to his structure, so it wasn't like there was risk of further injuring him. Some of the grime he had accumulated in the lower decks rubbed onto Hoist, which was somewhat uncomfortable. Other than that, though, Hoist managed to lift Ironfist without much trouble, and walked in front of the escape pod's door.

"Right then, Jazz would you open the door for us? My hand is a little full right now."

-----------

Med Bay Proper

With some effort Groove managed to wiggle his way out of Warpath's friendly but uncomfortable grip.

"Well WHAM, if you didn't want me so close why didn't ya' say so!", Warpath said.

They both listened as Rodimus explained things, how the tests would prove whether or not the mech formerly known as Rodimus was truly the next Prime.

That would certainly make sense...., Groove thought to himself.

It was then that Rodimus put his hand on Groove's shoulder, looking the scout optic-to-optic. There was something mesmerizing, close to hypnotic about the larger mech. It was almost impossible for him to look away as he listened most intently to Rodimus' words.

"Yes, there is nothing more that I would like to talk about.", the scout replied like he was in a dream, "For countless vorns all I've ever wanted was for all Cybertronians to return to our planet in peace. Do you really believe it can happen?"

While Groove was still with Rodimus, Warpath simply stood back and watched, though his optics continued to look over to Howlstrike. Talk about peace, returning to Cybertron, so-called Autobots who used to be {or maybe still were} Decepticons, tests, causes, it was more than Warpath really liked to think about.

"Well ZAM, I thought we were all just getting a drink.", Warpath mumbled, "I didn't think this would turn into a POW political debate."

OOC: Sorry I haven’t been on in a while, life’s been hectic lately.

Med Bay

He was in the med bay, staring at the aftermath of a battle. The Autobots had lost this one. They’d gone to the surface of the rock they were now leaving, wanting to pinpoint the base they believed the Decepticons had set up on the planet. The ‘Cons had been expecting them; they’d been ambushed almost immediately after landing, surrounded by more than twice their own number. He’d taken his own team into the fight, driving into heavy fire and smashing some ‘Cons despite the cries of the other Autobots to retreat. Retreat? How could they even think of retreating? They may have been outnumbered, outmaneuvered, outgunned… But how could they retreat? No, they would stay and fight—he’d been knocked out. And now he was here, sitting on the floor of the med bay, viewing his allies being ushered to CR chambers and the surgical suites, hearing their cries, feeling the air thick with spilt energon. So much destruction…
He heard his name; although he couldn’t understand it, he knew that was what had been called. He turned and saw the lieutenant of the vessel standing close by, staring at him angrily, his arms folded. He stood, feeling the wounds across his body cry with pain, but he grimaced through it, refusing to show weakness.
“What the slag was that?” the lieutenant asked angrily.
“Valor and honor in battle,” he replied calmly. He clenched his jaw and fists, restraining himself.
“That was fragging stupid!” the lieutenant responded. He jabbed a finger into his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to grab that finger and wrench it sideways as he’d done to so many ‘Cons, he wanted to watch the lieutenant fall to the ground and scream in pain, wanted to hear that scream… But he couldn’t, and so he instead stood and listened and watched as the lieutenant berated him, telling him how stupid he’d been, how he’d caused every wound in this bay, how he was being given one more chance and being sent to Cybertron, their dying home planet…

Sprints gasped and slammed into the wall. He’d been staring, his optics completely online but not seeing, his body loose and lifeless. He clutched at his chest, then his face, and slid limply down the wall. What in the name of Primus…?

Sprints tried to piece together what had just happened. The last thing he remembered was letting up on Hex’s arm as Ratchet cried out, and leaning back and standing up after the mech had been sedated. He’d stood, meaning to do something, and…

And what? He’d been subjected to that flash of… whatever the hell it was. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care; he just wondered if he was going crazy.

He looked around and saw he was still in the surgical suite; in the excitement of everything going on, he’d gone unnoticed this time. Not hard to imagine, since I’ve been lost in wherever for all this time.

Ratchet and First Aid were there, working on Axle, who was still unconscious on a bed. He thought about asking them what was going on, how Axle was doing, where Hex was… But he decided not to interrupt them. Instead, he just sat there, his arms folded around his knees, not caring how insignificant and weak he must look for the time being… He just wanted to know what was going on inside himself. For the second time in a few breems, he looked at himself and wondered who he was.

- - -

Dustspark leaned heavily on the table where Warpath had been sitting, watching the med bay. He muttered to himself, reciting, among other things, a pair of poems he liked, but mostly he just said the nonsense of his mind. He barely noticed he was doing it, and he was too quiet for anyone to hear him, in any case.

He decided to check in on the surgical suite to see how the work with Axle was going just as Hex exited and made his way to the conversation going on between some other mechs. Dusty thought it was strange that the young mech who’d just caused such a commotion was up and about—he’d probably been sedated heavily, Dusty’s mind produced disjointedly—but he decided Axle was a more pressing matter.

Entering the room, Dusty said, “Right! What’s goin’ on in ‘ere? Is this ‘un doin’ any better?” He glanced at the medics, Ratchet and First Aid, but looked most closely at Axle, trying to discern how serious his current injuries were. It seemed that the medics had made a good bit of progress, though, so he stepped back, choosing to wait unless he was needed. He was better with quick fixes in the field than heavy-duty medical work like this, but still competent.

Glancing around, he saw a small silver mech sitting against the wall. “Right! What’s goin’ on ‘ere—Oy! Sprints, issat you?”

Sprints looked up. “Yeah, what of it?”

“What’re ye doin’ lubbin’ in the corner there? If ye’re not needin’ help, ye’d best be getting’ up an’ out,” Dusty said. He trailed off a little with the last few words, noticing the strange look on the young Autobot’s face, and did his best to make the last sentence end in a kinder manner than he’d begun it.

Sprints stared for a moment, then nodded and rose. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll go.”

Dusty went back over to the medics and stood by, ready to help if they asked for it. Sprints carefully slipped out of the suite and back into the med bay proper. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings, and sighed heavily—

Cut that slag now. I refuse to see us feeling sorry for ourselves—

“Who the slag are you?” Sprints muttered, then realized he’d said it aloud. He cleared his throat and glanced around again, his optics focusing on Hex and the ‘Bots Sprints had been speaking with earlier. He strode over, feeling the leftover tensions and stiffness in his legs finally eking out until they were no more.

Arriving just in time to hear Hardhead’s speech to Hex, Sprints nodded. He liked where the warrior seemed to be going with this. “Yeah, things’re kinda slagged up around here lately—although, you didn’t hear that from me.” Sprints grinned and looked at Hardhead, then Rodimus. “Can I get filled in on this?” he asked, unsure quite who he was posing the question to.

Escape Pod

Jazz looked worriedly at Ironfist, it looked like the Dinobots had a little fun with him.

When I get my hands on them, they'll never see the light of day out of a Garrus-9 prison cell! Jazz thought as he clenched one of his fists.

He moved over to the door when he heard the connection between Escape Pod and deck. Jazz grabbed the wheel and began to spin it until he heard a metallic clank signifying that the lock was away.

He pushed it open, light rushed into the previously dark Escape Pod revealing the poor condition the crew was in. He shaded his optics until they adjusted, he turned back to Hoist and waited for his friend and colleague to carry the Weapons Expert down from the Escape Pod.

He looked over to the Protectobots, "Well don't just stand there, we have injured!"

He abrasively turned away, stuffing away his guilt.

Bridge

Kup watched with some resignation as Grimlock and his team took off in the Ark-19. While he didn’t agree at all with the move, he had to admire the boldness of it. Grimlock had certainly pulled one over on all of them. He was feeling a bit foolish about the whole thing, but he knew it was only a fraction of what Prowl felt. The other Autobot was known for his calm and collected manner, so the brief outburst he displayed was a bit of a shock for most. Kup though knew that Prowl was a bit tightly wound, and a situation like this spilling completely out of control was enough to make him snap, even if just briefly.

The older Autobot placed his hand on Prowl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it too much lad. Grimlock may disobey orders and break the rules, but above everything else he wants to fight the Cons. This is where the major fighting will be, so I can guarantee you he will be back. It’ll just be a matter of time. The real question will be what all he’ll be bringing back with him.

Ironhide, however, did not take Grimlock’s actions quite so smoothly. The Autobot clenched his fists hard enough that you could hear the faint shrieks of metal scrape against metal. It took all the self control he had not to fly off the hook over the idea of just letting Grimlock go. If Optimus were still in charge he likely would have done something, but he knew how fragile things were without him around. If he lost his temper it would only make a bid situation worse.

“Prowl, is there anything else you need from me or am I dismissed?” The words barely escaped his clenched mouth. He wanted to go do something, blow off some steam somehow, but he wasn’t going to go storming off the bridge, not without permission at least.

*

Hangar

Hot Spot nodded at Blades and then at Streetwise as the two of them joined him. “I’m not sure what all of the details are yet. The Guardian just recovered an escape pod from the Ark-19, allegedly carrying the repair crew that was over there. Prowl has informed me that one or more of the occupants may be saboteurs, so we’re taking every precaution.”

He looked each of the Protectobots in the optics. “Now I know its hard to believe that one of our own could turn against us like that, but its not out of the question. We are going to get them out of the pod with weapons ready. I’m going to order them to come out of the pod without weapons. If any of them come out armed then we will use non-lethal force to subdue them,” the last part wad directed primarily at Blades.

“The situation is confused and everyone is probably a bit tense so they may come out armed by mistake. They might also come out guns blazing trying to escape. We won’t take any chances here. We play it safe and worst case is no one gets seriously hurt.”

His briefing was interrupted by the opening of the pod from the inside. He quickly pointed for Blades and Streetwise to take up positions flanking the pod’s hatch as he stood directly in front of it. If someone was coming out guns blazing then he would take the brunt of it, which was fine with him. He would always take a shot for one of his teammates.

Hot Spot peered inside, seeing Jazz and Hoist looking none too worse for wear. He also spotted Ironfist and from the looks of him he was going to need some medical assistance. He grimaced at the sight. They all seemed unlikely to be saboteurs, but again, he was taking no chances. Ignoring Jazz’s comment he produced one of his fireball cannons but kept it pointed at the ground. “Autobots, please exit the escape pod in an orderly and timely manner. You will be unarmed when you exit the escape pod or we will be forced to disarm you. Medical assistance is on its way for anyone who is injured.”

>>”First Aid, please report to the Hangar. We apparently have some injured from the Ark-19 down here, just be careful around them. There is a possible saboteur in the group.”<<

Hangar

The interceptor listened calmly as his leader briefed them. He was skeptical about the possibility of a saboteur, but he would never let that get in the way of the safety of his fellow Protectobots or the rest of his comrades.

Streetwise cast the pod an apprehensive glance when the pod opened from the inside. He moved into position almost immediately, leveling his photon pistol at the bots emerging from the pod. He could fire off a burst of light to blind them if necessary, only he hoped that he would not have to. Hot Spot, of course, had taken the most dangerous position for himself. It was that kind of selflessness that Streetwise admired.

The interceptor peered at the bots emerging. He did not have as good of a view as Hot Spot, but he could see Jazz and Hoist clearly. There was someone else inside, but he was just out of sight. Jazz and Hoist didn't look too worse for the wear, but judging from the boss bot's grimace, the other occupant was grievously injured.

Streetwise had severe doubts that Jazz or Hoist was a saboteur, but he would leave it up to the Hot Spot's and the other higher-ups' discretion. Hot Spot took no chances, and neither would he. Streetwise kept his photon pistol trained on the Autobots as he tried to guess their next actions.

(OOC: Monster post coming up!)


Medical Bay Proper

“Damn straight I ain’t no ‘Bot.”

Hex grew quiet and stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he listened intently to everything Hardhead had to say. The mention of actually getting retribution for what the ‘Cons…no for what Motormaster did to Axle was extraordinarily tempting. So tempting in fact that he was already nodding in agreement before he had a chance to fully think things through.

The idea was ludicrous, but it was exactly what Hex needed to do. He lost his chance to confront Optimus, but he was certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to get back at the 'Cons.

“Alright knuckle-head. You got my attention. I’m all for bringing the hurt to the ‘Cons.”

The shorter mech stepped in closer to Hardhead and jabbed a finger into the green mech’s chestplate.

“If Rodimus does get us planet side again and we get into a sweet little skirmish…Motormaster is mine. Got that double ‘H’?”

Hex backed away, but only slightly when he noticed Sprints making his way to he and Hardhead. A deep sneer formed on the youngling’s face as he stepped to the side so the other mech could butt in. At Sprints’ query Hex let out an annoyed snort.

“You’re kidding right? What, were you in stasis or something?”

Hex moved in to stand directly in from of the other mech.

“What’s happening, gimpy, is that we’re all trying to figure out why Prowl hasn’t taken this opportunity to take the battle to the ’Cons. That Praxian prick intends to keep us hold up here in orbit when we should be down on Earth tearing the exhaust ports out of the Decepticons!”

Trying to compose himself, Hex continued on.

“Rodimus is the only one to step up and promise to win this war the way it should be. I don’t know about you, but I’m siding with the mech who’s actually promising to do something about the ‘Cons.”
____

The next in line to lead the Autobots. Rodimus smiled inwardly as he listened to Howlstrike finally give in to his own curiosity and agreed to hear what Rodimus had to say. It was a start. Swaying the former Predacon to embrace his position would be a considerable win. Rodimus offered Howlstrike a small smile.

“Thank you, Howlstrike. I promise you that I will bring this war to a close and move us off this planet and back to our own.”

The self-proclaimed Prime took a step forward and looked the skeptical wolf-former in the optics. The bright blue of Rodimus’ optics flashed a slightly darker shade before he spoke again.

“I understand you are apprehensive and unsure about my capabilities both on and off the battlefield. I will soon prove to you that I can lead you into battle and win. From there I will lead you to peace. I only ask you to be patient and open minded.”

From Howlstrike, Rodimus looked over his shoulder to Warpath. The poor mech seemed to feel left out. That would not do. The fire emblazoned mech turned fully to face the red warrior, a broad smile etched on his face.

“My apologies, Warpath. I am very interested in any input you may have to offer. And yes heading to the mess hall would probably be for the best. Ratchet and First Aid do their space in order to complete any needed repairs.”
____

Thankfully Silverbolt did a very minimal amount of squirming as First Aid finished up his repair of the Aerialbot’s optic sensor. He knew ‘Bolt was uneasy about having his optic removed, but it was the best way to get to the circuitry that needed to be soldered back in place.

The doctor finally retracted his soldering tool back into his finger tip and took a close look at his work. Clean and secure. Always a good sign. First Aid stood up from his bench with the delicate sensor cradled in the palm of his hand.

“Alright, Silverbolt. Your optic is as good as new.”

First Aid placed his free hand on ‘Bolt’s shoulder and gave it a light pat. After a moment he moved in and reinserted the optic into its socket. All of the connections were made and the repair was finally complete.

“There we are. Now, I don’t want you getting up for at least two breems. The sensor needs time to re-acclimate to your circuits. Keep it powered down until those two breems are up.”

The Protectobot doctor was about to ask Silverbolt a question when a call from Hot Spot came in on his internal comm line. Someone from the Ark – 19 is hurt? And there might be a saboteur too? Primus, what a day.

First Aid quickly opened a line back to his commanding officer.

>>”I’ll be heading out momentarily. I just need to grab my kit.”<<

Wasting no time First Aid jogged back to his workbench and swopped up the emergency medical kit he kept handy. One always had to be ready for any type of emergency.
Bag in had the doctor took off out the door heading for the hanger bay. On his way he opened a link with Ratchet.

>>”Sir, I’ve been called to help out in the hanger. I’m not entirely sure what happened. I will contact you shortly to give you a brief.”<<

>>”Bunch a slaggin’ bolt heads! Alright fine, but when you’re done with that slag I need you back here. These repairs on Axle are taking much longer than anticipated. I need to get him completely stabilized in order to put him in a CR chamber.”<<

The departing doctor gave a nonverbal response and headed down the corridor at a much faster pace.
____

Nearly elbow deep in Axle’s chest, Ratchet looked up to see Dustspark enter the room. The medic was a welcome sight as the CMO needed as much help as he could get. At the question Dusy posed, Ratchet simply let out a heavy sigh. His face dropped as he continued his rooting around.

“I’ve almost got him stable, but it’s slow going. Too slow. His spark wasn’t damaged but the cavity surrounding it was. In fact…I think I just found another problem. Frag! Frag! Frag!”

Twisting his arm so that it was now angled down, Ratchet placed his hand on the field medic’s spark chamber…more importantly the casing concealing his spark.

“There’s a….small breach in his spark chamber’s casing. I need to get it repaired. It’s the reason I can’t get him stabilized. Dusty, I’m gonna need your help.”

Mess Hall

Bumblebee had taken up a spot across from Nova Strike and decided to nurse his energon for however long he could. The minibot’s attention was locked on the mug in his hands when Nova suggested they try and get a pass to the surface. The idea was a good one, but Bumblebee knew Prowl would be dead set against it.

“Hmm, I don’t think Prowl would allow us to just leave the ship to go traveling the globe.”

The suggestion to head to the bridge anyway was a good one. As good as any in fact.

“That’s a good idea. I’m sure that meeting is over and the guys could use some help manning the terminals. Let’s go.”

Transmission from the Ark-22 to the Bridge

>>Red Alert to Prowl, what's going on over there? What happened to the Ark-19? Have the Decepticons taken it? WHAT'S HAPPENING!?!<<



Hangar

The escape pod door opened and Hoist carefully walked his way out, making sure Ironfist was securely on his shoulder, his one hand keeping a firm grip to prevent him from falling. Noticing that Jazz was still being hard on himself, Hoist was about to give some more words of encouragement when he saw the welcoming party. Three of the Protectobots, Blades, Streetwise and their leader Hot Spot, and all with their weapons drawn, though thankfully not yet aimed at the former Ark-19 repair team. After hearing Hot Spot's orders, Hoist raised his free hand- or rather, his free laser up toward the ceiling. He wished he had switched the laser to something less threatening earlier.

"All right, there's no problem here, we'll co-operate. I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding.", the mechanic calmly said as he carefully walked down.

With his laser still in the air and Ironfist on his shoulder, Hoist slowly took a few steps then stopped in front of the assembled Protectobots. As long as he stayed calm and didn't make any sudden moves, he was sure everything would be fine and they would straighten things out.

"Jazz and I have minor head injuries, but Ironfist will need some immediate attention.", he informed Hot Spot, "He was hit too, but that's the least of his problems. He was exposed to a good amount of radiation, and from what I can tell his tank's running close to empty."

Hoist kept looking forward at Hot Spot as he patiently waited. Thankfully Ironfist's weight didn't strain his servos too much. He only hoped that after everything that happened on the Ark-19, Jazz wouldn't take this too personally and would be just as amicable.


Med Bay- Proper

Warpath just wanted to go to the mess hall for some drinks with Hardhead and maybe a few other bots. Instead he was listening to the mech formerly known as Hot Rod talking to anyone within audio range, talking about plans for the future, leadership, peace. It wasn't really something Warpath had much interest in, even as Rodimus seemed to try to get the warrior to discuss such things.

"Well WHAM, I really don't have any interest in these sort of things, to be honest.", Warpath said in his usual loud manner, "Maybe you'd be a BANG good leader but I don't know, it's not my job to think of those kind of things, you know?"

Groove was then about to add his two energon chips to the discussion, but was quickly interupted by Warpath once again grabbing him by the shoulder and bringing him in close.

"See, me and my BOOM good buddy Groove here,", the warrior chimed in, while the Protectobot scout was stuck uncomfortably unable to say anything, "We just like to POW slag us some Decepticons, get patched up and energized, and then KABOOM slag us some more Decepticons, isn't that right pal?"

"N-", Groove managed to spit out as he once again tried to wiggle out of Warpath's friendly grip, "No exactly."

Bridge

Prowl tried to relax a bit as he felt Kup’s hand come to rest on his shoulder in a comforting manner. The military strategist listened as the old timer spoke to him in an attempt to convince him that it was no big deal. Grimlock would be back and he would likely bring some heavy firepower with him in order to help fight the ‘Cons. It wasn’t necessarily a bad idea in theory, but there were still rules that needed to be adhered to, otherwise the Autobots would devolve into anarchy where any mech could do whatever they wanted without consequences for their actions.

Oh, there’ll be consequences, all right, Prowl thought to himself as he glanced over to Kup and gave him a forced smile. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, Kup, but it is a big deal, at least to me. This whole situation with the Dinobots only underlies the very reason why I called in Ultra Magnus to begin with. No one around here likes me very much. I know that. They see me as stuffy and an auto-prick and therefore they will never respect me. The ‘Bots in this sector need someone with charisma, someone they can admire and respect. That mech is just not me, and Grimlock just proved it by disobeying my orders and going off on his own. Who’s next, Kup? The twins or maybe Hot Rod or whatever he goes by now? I can’t allow that to happen. We need to remain a team and the only way to do that is for someone else to be in charge here. I hope to convince Magnus that he’s the one for the job, but it certainly won’t be easy.”

Prowl’s attention was then drawn away by a clearly angered Ironhide wanting to know if he was dismissed or not. The black and white sighed and gave the old red mech a nod. “Yes, Ironhide, you can go. You’ve provided me with valuable information. Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

With that out of the way, Prowl was about to turn his attention back to Kup when Red Alert’s anxiety-filled communique came across his comm line. The strategist took a deep breath before responding:

>>”No, Red Alert, the Decepticons have not taken the Ark-19. I’ve sent the ship to get a major overhaul and weapons refitting, which could not be done here with the limited resources at our disposal. There’s nothing to worry about. Prowl out.”<<

The black and white let out another heavy sigh before returning his gaze to Kup. “That’s just what I need right now, Red Alert freaking out. Hopefully, I’ve calmed him down some, but it won’t last. The occupants of the escape pod know what really happened and will likely spread the word around. We need to try and keep this quiet for the time being so everyone doesn’t go thinking they can just run off without permission.” Prowl then opened another comm line to the Protectobot Commander down in the hangar:

>>”Hot Spot, this is Prowl. I need an update regarding the escape pod and it’s occupants. Keep them isolated down there in the hangar until I arrive. Is that understood? I'll be there shortly.”<<

Prowl then turned and quickly headed for the door. “Come on Kup, we’ve got some damage control to do.”

Medical Bay Proper

Hardhead smiled at Hex’s reaction, especially to his wanting to take on Motormaster by himself. The green warrior knew without question that the young mech would meet an untimely end if that were to occur, but he remained silent on the matter and simply nodded as Hex backed away from him and turned his attention towards Sprints, who had approached them moments ago wanting to know what had happened. Hex summed things up pretty well, although tact was clearly not his strong point. Regardless, here was another potential recruit and the war veteran saw no reason not to include him in the discussion.

“Everything that Hex has told you is true, Sprints,” Hardhead interjected with a warm smile on his faceplate. “Rodimus is promising actions, not more words. We are in dangerous times that require us to be proactive and not reactive like Prowl would have us all do. Will you join us in the mess hall to hear Rodimus out? I promise that you won’t regret it.”
_________

Howlstrike smirked when Rodimus thanked him and then promised to bring an end to the war, returning them all back to Cybertron and away from the backwater world currently beneath them. That suited Howl just fine, but they were just more words, ones he had heard countless times before from both sides of the conflict. It would be another thing entirely if it were to actually become a reality some day.

The former Predacon maintained his ground as Rodimus then moved in closer to him and continued his little politically-laced speech. Howlstrike kept both arms crossed over the wolf head that adorned his chest plate and stared directly back into the deep blue optics of the former cavalier. He was a good talker that much was certain, almost too good. Apparently, more than just his body was upgraded. Hot Rod's mouthpiece was, as well.

“Nice speech, but it doesn’t really get into the details that I’m looking for,” Howlstrike responded plainly before lowering his arms down to his sides. “However, I will keep an open mind as you say. Lead on to the mess hall, Roddy, I want to hear what exactly you have planned.”

So that I can tell Kup all about it!