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Inferno placed his hand Bluestreak's shoulder when Red Alert finished rebuttling him. He used a soft tone to the Autobot gunner, and offered him some reassurance.

"Don't worry about to much big Blue...ya know old Red. He might be a raving lunatic when it comes to security at times, but his spark is in the right place. And don't you worry to much about offending him. I spent more time around the guy to know he's already forgotten as he's processing about four hundred different scenarios as to what the Decepticons might be doing."

Inferno offered Blue a hearty smile. He liked Bluestreak and considered him a valuable soldier and friend. Inferno didn't want to have him distracted if a fight was inevitable, and it was true that Decepticons were mounting in the area.

Even more important, was the fact that the Ark 19 was missing. While Inferno wasn't focusing in on every single possibility on what could have happened to the 19 like Red, he was focusing in on the simpler fact. It was gone. If a Decepticon assault occured right now it would mean the 22 was on her own. The 22 was alone, undermanned, and outclassed against an invasion force, and quick reinforcements seemed unlikely.

It seemed like a great fight to Inferno, but a costly one. The price that may be paid for that could mean his own spark, or worse, the spark of his fellow crew members. That was unacceptable to him. Red Alert had a point, finding the Ark 19 had to be a top priority. Though not fully accustomed to it, Inferno began a sensor sweep for anything unusual. He called over to the security cheif, and apparent commander.

"Hey Red, gimmie some pointers...what should I be scanning for? Ion trails...life signs? What'd be most useful to you?"

Bridge

Bluestreak was quite taken aback at Red Alert’s belligerent response to his comments which the talkative mech thought would help to calm the anxiety-filled ‘Bot down, but it only seemed to make things worse. Of course, if he hadn’t inadvertently insulted the security director, the reaction would have likely been different. “Sorry, Red, I was only trying to help. Maybe I can make it up to you, I could...”

The black and silver mech’s new tirade was mercifully cut way short as he felt Inferno’s hand on his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him that Red Alert meant well and was only doing what came naturally to him. “Yeah, you’re right, Inferno,” Bluestreak replied as the fire expert attempted to run some scans for the missing Ark-19. “I keep forgetting how stressful his job is. I can’t imagine being in charge of security for everyone on board not only this ship but now for the Guardian and the 19, as well. Of course, the 19 isn’t here anymore, but I guess it still counts.”

Bluestreak then turned his attention back to Red Alert, who was waiting for a reply from Prowl regarding the sudden disappearance of the Ark-19. “You know, Red, there are ways to reduce stress. Meditating’s a good option from what I understand. Howlstrike’s good at that I think. Maybe he’d be willing to help you. Although, I don’t know how much he can be trusted. Being that he’s a former Predacon, he might make you even more stressed out than you already are. So, I guess it’s a no win situation.”

It was then that a response from Prowl came across the ship's intercomm:

>>”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.”<<

Once the communique was finished, Bluestreak patted Red Alert on his shoulder. "You see, Red! I told you the 19 was just sent out for repairs! Prowl just forgot to tell you that's all. You really need to stop worrying so much, buddy. It's not good for you to be so wound up all the time. Your nerve receptors will end up shorting out! Why don't you, me and Inferno all go down and get an energon drink or something. Maybe a little relaxation is all that you need."

Inferno was relieved to hear Prowl announce the 19 was called away for routine maintenance and upgrades. It wouldn't take to long for her to get refitted and back on the line. A simple calm surged through Inferno's circuits. As he heard Bluestreak and Red Alert chatter he began breaking it down in his processors. To himself of course.

"Meditation?" Inferno thought to himself, "thats for new age emo-bots...nothing beats a good ol' fashioned fist fight. That's how I relax! Pounding a few decepti-bums back their assembly line and it always feels like a great weight has been lifted internally..."

Inferno's thoughts of pounding Starscream and going ten rounds with Motor Master was quickly broken when Bluestreak mentioned having an energon drink. Inferno hadn't used much energy in the training session he recently completed, or the wild goosebot chase in the shuttle bay, but a little recharge wouldn't hurt. He called to to Bluestreak.

"What type of drink are you talkin' here Blue? Something a bit fissionable I hope?" Inferno would lick his lips if capable. After rescuing his friends and pounding the enemy, have a good stiff energon drink was among Infeno's favorite activites, especially when he could boast about war stories. He also knew Red Alert could probably use a little distraction, and eveyrone could use a distraction from Red Alert. And if Bluestreak, a gunner, was coming with them he was bound to have a good war story or two.

Bridge

Red Alert blocked out the idle chit-chat of both Bluestreak and Inferno as he continued to go over sensor logs while he waited for a reply from Prowl. He had to keep busy, he had to go over every bit of information he could until he knew what was happening. At one point he stopped, his optics widened as he noticed something off about the ship's sensor readings, something he only noticed after looking over the data numerous times. He was about to shout his discovery when the Autobot strategist gave his reply, assuring that he had ordered Ark-19 away for major repairs.

"WHAT!?! THAT CAN'T BE!", Red Alert yelled incredulously, "WHAT ABOUT THE-"

Before he could finish, the security director felt someone touch his shoulder. Once again instinct took over as Red Alert turned in a flash, ready to punch the possible assaillant- but he stopped when he saw it was only Bluestreak.

"SLAGGIT WOULD ALL OF YOU STOP TOUCHING ME BEHIND MY BACK!", Red Alert shouted as loud as his vocal components would allow, "CAN'T YOU SEE HOW SERIOUS- THIS-"

Red Alert lowered his fist as the Autobot gunner tried to calm him down. For once Bluestreak's talk actually helped Red Alert to see things more clearly. With everything that had happened over the past few cycles since they learned of Optimus' disappearance his processors had been working on overdrive. Inferno seemed to agree as well. Red Alert sighed as he did his best to calm himself.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I have been straining my circuits a little too much lately.", the security director said relieved, a small smile starting to come across his face, "I think I will join you in the mess hall for a drink. Maybe a full tank will help me see things more clearly. I just have to go to my quarters for a breem first to file a few reports, then I'll join you."

Red Alert returned the friendly pat on the shoulder to Bluestreak, then gave Inferno one as well as he headed out of the bridge.

Corridor - Red Alert's Personal Quarters

Red Alert's relatively calm demeanor vanished the instant he was out of the bridge. As security director his quarters were close to the bridge, though he hurried his way there anyway. Standing in front of the door he looked in all directions cautiously to make sure no one was around. Once he was certain he was alone he began entering in an extraordinarilly long security code, stopping several times to make sure there was still no one around. After what seemed like a full breem the door opened, and Red Alert hastily entered. Just before the door shut he poked his head out to be absolutely certain no one was following or watching him.

Once the door closed behind him Red Alert entered in several more codes, not only locking the door but also activating sensors to alert him of anyone nearing his quarters. Red Alert allowed almost no one into his room, usually just whoever was in command such as Kup or Ultra Magnus, and only while he was in there. Even his best friend Inferno had barely seen the inside of his quarters. Red Alert just couldn't be too careful.

If anyone did come in they would notice that, despite Red Alert being stationed there for a few vorns, it was quite bare. There was a small desk with a computer, and several computer consoles and security monitors, but Red Alert kept no personal belongings. If anyone took an even closer look they would notice the edge of every wall panel and computer monitor were worn out from being broke open and carefully put back into place, a sign of Red Alert's paranoia over the possibility of being monitored.

Red Alert wouldn't have time to check the walls this time, he couldn't keep Bluestreak and Inferno waiting for too long. He didn't want them to get suspicious. This time Red Alert relied on his keen senses to make sure he wasn't being monitored, listening, looking, smelling over every nook and cranny in his office. Everything seemed to be clear, but the next time he would have to do a more thorough check just to be safe.

Going to his desk he turned on the computer and entered in another long security code. Once he had access Red Alert went to his personal log and opened up a new one. For a moment Red Alert calmed himself enough to sit down in front of the computer, which activated a visual sensor and several audio sensors to record him.

"Security Director Red Alert's personal log; I should have seen this coming earlier when I learned of Optimus' disappearance. I worried so much that without Prime the Decepticons would be more aggressive with their attacks, but now I see that our greatest enemy is right within our ranks!"

Red Alert got out from his chair, he was too worked up to sit still. He paced around his personal quarters, the audio sensors still recording his every word.

"Several breems ago I picked up an unusual scent in the Ark-22 hallways, which eventually led me to the shuttle bay to discover that one of the shuttles was missing. Wheeljack gave me plenty of explanations, all conveniently AFTER I discovered them, not to mention a report on the missing shuttle THAT HAD BEEN FILED OVER A CYCLE LATE! At first I only had suspicions, but after looking over the ship's sensor logs I noticed something; the sensors had been DIVERTED AWAY FROM THE SHUTTLE BAY!"

Red Alert had to stop himself for a moment. His frustration over Wheeljack's lies was getting him worked up. He needed to clear his processors before he continued.

"But there's more! Later when I returned to the bridge I discovered that the Ark-19 had jettisoned an escape pod and gone to transwarp. No one told me anything of this, so of course I contacted Prowl to find out. His was response was that the Ark-19 had been sent for repairs and weapons upgrades. Well that certainly makes sense, after all the ship was badly damaged and we don't have enough resources to get it fixed ourselves. But.... THAT STILL DOESN'T EXPLAIN THE ESCAPE POD! WHO WAS ON THAT ESCAPE POD? WHY WAS IT LAUNCHED IF THEY WERE AUTHORIZED TO LEAVE FOR REPAIRS!"

Red Alert punched the wall as he yelled this, partially opening one of the panels he had checked behind in the past. Prowl's deceit over the Ark-19 was the most unnerving thing. After working with the strategist countless times on so many of the most top secret operations in Autobot command, he thought he could trust him. Again he cleared his mind before he continued- he would have to finish soon before Bluestreak and Inferno started to wonder.

"There's a conspiracy here, and it goes all the way up to Prowl! For now I'll have to be extra careful, to perform my duties without making it obvious that I'm on to them! Right now I'll be going to the mess hall for drinks with Bluestreak and.... Inferno. Slaggit I hate to think that I can't trust my own friend, but there's no telling how far this conspiracy has gone! For all I know he may have lured me to the training facility as a distraction, to keep me from finding out what I have! Maybe the next few breems will help me decide if I can trust either of them, for Primus' sake I hope Inferno isn't a part of this! But whatever is going on, I will find out and stop it before the Autobots are destroyed from within!"

Red Alert walked back to the computer and shut off the recording monitors. As he entered in a series of encryptions and security codes to the log file, he wondered why he made the log. It certainly helped clear his spark, getting his suspicions out, but otherwise there was no logical reason for doing so. Still he didn't have much time to contemplate such things, he had to join up with the others quickly.

Shutting off the computer, he went to the door and went through the the arduous task of unlocking it with more codes before the door opened and he stepped out.

Once in the corridor the security director turned around and entered another complex series of numbers to lock the door behind him. The security director's cooling fans took in a long inhale, then exhale.

"Right then, just act natural.", Red Alert nervously said to himself as he turned and waited for Bluestreak and Inferno, forcing a smile one his face.

Just act natural, just act natural....

Bridge

Bluestreak was ecstatic to hear both Inferno and even Red Alert agree to have drinks with him down in the mess hall. It would do them all a bit of good to just relax for awhile after the long trip back from Cybertron. None of them had really gotten a chance to just rest and recharge and that was especially true for the paranoid security director who always seemed to be on duty and worried about something going wrong. Red’s overreaction to being touched too many times along with his apparemt reluctance to believe Prowl’s explanation for the missing Ark-19 only served to reinforce that notion. At least now they could all kick back and remain calm. “Glad to hear it, buddy,” Blue replied as Red Alert abruptly left the bridge for his quarters. “No rush. We’ll be along shortly. Don’t you worry!”

Once the chief of security had left, the gunner turned towards the fire-bot and smiled. “What type of drink? Well, any type you want, Inferno! The energon synthesizers here on the Ark-22 can concoct any kind of drink you can image with whatever additives you can think of. Of course, it’s not the real deal, nothing is, but it’s better than some of the slag I’ve tasted. And let me tell you, I’ve had the displease of tasting some real disgusting stuff during my time amongst the Autobots. Quite often I think the higher-ups just get the cheapest synthesizers available or they simply don’t care to keep up with the maintenance. The one back on Cybertron was absolutely terrible, I mean the lowest of the low. The energon that came out of that dispenser was like drinking cosmic rust. Yuck! Of course, that one hadn’t been turned on in countless vorns, so I guess I could understand why it didn’t work so well. However, we don’t have to worry about any of that here on the 22. The synthesizer down in the mess hall produces some of the best energon substitute this side of the galaxy. You won’t be disappointed!”

Bluestreak then checked his internal chronometer and realized that a breem had already gone by. Had I really been talking that long? It didn’t matter as it was time to go see if Red Alert was finally ready to head on down to the mess hall with them. “Come on, Inferno, time to meet up with Red. He should be done whatever he’s doing by now and even if he’s not, we’ll just pound on his door until he opens up. Heh heh!” The talkative mech then turned and exited the bridge, assuming that the fire-bot would be close behind him.

Corridor outside Red Alert’s Quarters

It was a brief walk to the security director’s personal quarters as it was located not far from the bridge, itself. Bluestreak immediately noticed Red Alert waiting patiently in the hallway for them. He appeared to be a bit agitated, but at least he was now smiling which was an expression that was not often seen coming from the paranoid ‘Bot.

“Hey, Red, you take care of everything you needed to in there?” The black and silver mech asked with a smile spread across his own faceplate as he stopped a few feet in front of his anxious comrade. “You don’t have a cute femmebot stashed away inside do you, Red? Come on now, you can tell me. I won’t say a word....or two....or even three. I can’t promise I won’t say four words, though. Ha ha! Just kidding! Come on, let’s go get that drink now!”

Corridor

Dear Primus, this is going to be hard, Red Alert thought as he kept the smile on his face as best as he could while Bluestreak prattled on and on.

"Heh, HA HA!", Red Alert forced out a laugh, "Good one, Bluestreak! Only if she broke the law! HA HA! But yes, I've filed my reports."

I hope that wasn't too obvious. But then, if I was running a conspiracy, would I want Bluestreak to be a part of it? He runs his vocalizer like his life depended on it, such a talkative bot couldn't hold a secret. Or maybe that's what Prowl wants me to think! Wait a minute, where's Inferno?

"I suppose Inferno is lagging behind, isn't he? He's never been particularly fast on his feet. Maybe we should wait for him and try not to walk too fast for him to catch up.", Red Alert said as casually as he could.

Or maybe he stayed behind to monitor my actions on the bridge! Could my best friend Inferno really be a part of this plot? Did they really turn my most trusted comrade against me? Of dear Primus, don't let it be true!

The security director continued to smile, even as his mind filled with accusations of betrayal and treason.

Corridor

Bluestreak smiled as Red Alert laughed at his poor attempt at humor. Of course there was no femme hidden away in the security director’s quarters, and even if there had been she’d never be able to handle his perpetual paranoia for long. Red would probably accuse her of being a spy who was trying to steal sensitive data from the Ark-22’s computer. Then Red would find himself being slapped hard across the faceplate before the angry femme stormed out of his room. That would surely have been a sight to see if it wasn't just one of the Autobot gunner's silly jokes.

“Well, that’s disappointing. For an astrosec there, I thought you had actually gotten lucky, Red! Ha ha! But, it’s good that you got your work done. That’s never a bad thing. You certainly don’t want to get backed up too much and find yourself buried under a ton of paperwork,” Bluestreak said to Red Alert, glancing back down the corridor at the mention of Inferno having not caught up to them yet. The black and silver mech scratched his perplexed cranium before returning his gaze to the security specialist. “Yeah, I don’t know what happened to him, Red. Inferno was on the bridge last time I saw him. I just assumed he had followed me out. Maybe he got caught up with something Springer wanted him to do at the last astrosecond. You never know. But we can walk along slowly for awhile and give the fire-bot a chance to catch up with us. No problem!”

The Autobot gunner gave Red Alert a friendly pat on the shoulder as he walked along beside the paranoid ‘Bot. Taking their time to the mess hall would allow for a good conversation to develop between the two. Naturally, it would mostly be one-sided with Blue doing most of the talking unless Red was able to find a way to get a word in edgewise somewhere in the continuous ramble. “I tell you Red, it’s good to get off the bridge finally. I was really getting bored running diagnostics and whatnot. Plus there weren’t that many mechs left on the bridge to talk with in order to help pass the time. That is, except for Arcee, but she seemed to be preoccupied with something else and mostly just let me do all the talking. Then she got a cranial ache. So, I don't think she likes me very much. I seem to have as much luck with femmes as you do! Ha! I'm just teasing, Red. Anyway, I then thought about going to look for Howlstrike to see what that crazy former Pred was up to, but then you and Inferno entered the bridge and, well, here we are!”

Bluestreak briefly paused as the two mechs rounded a corner before his vocal processor kicked in to high gear once again. “You know, Red, I was telling Inferno a little bit ago that the synthetic energon here on the 22 is some of the best around, real good high-grade stuff. No where near as good as the real thing, of course, but still much better than the usual slag we get stuck with. Goes down real smooth and easy. Have you had a chance to try it yet? If not, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Corridor

Red Alert said nothing, but listened as intently as he could as Bluestreak went on about fembots, work, and Inferno, all the while smiling like a greeting-drone.

Could Inferno be following some order from Springer? It's possible. He may be slow, but Inferno wouldn't be this far behind us unless he occupied with something else- like monitoring my movements! Maybe my friend really is part of this, how could he? And what about Springer? He hasn't left the ship since we arrived in this system, and he doesn't have as much of a history with Prowl as Bluestreak or Wheeljack, but he could have helped cover up the missing shuttle, even authorized the false shuttle report. Slaggit, I need to find an ally soon if I'm to keep track of all the pieces in this puzzle!

Just then the Autobot gunner patted the security specialist on the back. It took every byte of Red Alert's self control to keep from freaking out like he normally did. He noticibly twitched, but otherwise didn't do anything threatening or suspicious. Red Alert continued to listen.

Arcee seemed pre-occupied? It's possible she was just trying to avoid Bluestreak's nonstop banter, or maybe she's in on this too. That's one more for my list of potential conspirators.... Howlstrike? Yes, it would make sense that he would be a part in this. Maybe that's the whole reason he's here, tear the Autobots apart from the inside to make us easier targets for a Decepticon attack.... No, no, that's too obvious.... Unless that's what Prowl wants me to think!

Rounding a corner, Bluestreak began to rave about the quality of the energon in the Ark-22's dispensers. As he finished, the two reached the door to the mess hall.

"To be honest I'm usually too busy to refuel here, I usually have to get my recharge in the CR chamber.", Red Alert admitted, "But from what you're telling me, it certainly sounds good."

Yes.... Maybe too good.....

Red Alert pushed the button that opened the mess hall doors. At first he looked into the room with a level of suspicion, but quickly looked to Bluestreak with a friendly grin.

"After you."

Mess Hall

“Ahhhhh, you don’t know what you’re missing, Red,” Bluestreak said to the security director as they reached the mess hall doors. “I know that just plugging yourself in to a wall socket can be a nice way to get a quick recharge, but sometimes you just gotta sit back and relax, you know? Take your time. I think that may be half your problem, Red. You don’t relax enough. Well, that’s about to change, ol’ buddy, because now it relaxation time! Ha ha!”

Bluestreak watched as the paranoid mech pressed the controls, causing the doors to slide apart to reveal the vast chamber beyond. Red Alert then told the gunner that he could lead the way. “Don’t mind if I do,” Blue replied as he entered the large hall and quickly made his way over to the very energon dispensers he had just been raving about moments ago. He grabbed a tall glass and placed it under one of the nozzles, triggering the automated sensors that allowed the glowing purple liquid to cascade down and fill it up to the brim.

“Beautiful,” was all the black and silver mech could utter before raising the glass to his mouthpiece and gulping about half of the contents down. Bluestreak then placed the receptacle back onto the counter and wiped the excess from his faceplate. “Now, that’s some great energon derivative right there! I tell you Red, we should open a bar up here and sell this stuff. We’d make a bundle, especially after a long, hard battle with the ‘Cons. Mechs would come in and want to drink their woes away after a loss or celebrate a victory. We’d be rich, I tell you, rich! I....” The gunner stopped himself suddenly and looked over at Red Alert, a bit embarrassed as he realized that he had forgotten to get his anxious comrade a glass of his own.

“Frag, I’m sorry, Red. I didn’t mean to forget you. I guess I just don’t know when to shut up, do I? Story of my life. Heh! Anyway, your drink’s coming right up!” Bluestreak then turned back to face the energon dispensers where he filled a second tall glass up just like the first one, which was still sitting half full on the counter. “Here you go, Red. Would you like an additive or two mixed in? Perhaps something to spice your drink up like a pinch of beta-12 or maybe even a joint relaxant to help you unwind? There’s plenty to choose from here, you just gotta let me know." The gunner smiled before then adding, "So, what’s your poison?”

Mess Hall

Red Alert cautiously follwed behind Bluestreak into the mess hall, his advanced sensors keeping him fully aware of anything that could be going on.

No heat or energy signatures besides Bluesreak..... No unaccounted for sounds..... No visual clues to indicate any other mechs in here..... Doesn't appear to be an ambush....

Despite there being no signs of a suprise attack, Red Alert was not completely convinced. In his processors he kept repeating Bluestreak's earlier statements about the quality of the energon, trying to determine if there was something he gunner was saying without saying it. Red Alert had to stop his deep thinking though, as he realized Bluestreak was at it again.

Does his vocalizer ever wear out?

"I think bartenders spend more time listening to their customers then talking.", Red Alert replied with a smile, trying to make a good natured jab at Bluestreak's talkative nature, "Personally I'd rather just stick to security."

Red Alert took a seat at the nearest table, as the Autobot gunner apologized for making Red Alert wait for his drink.

"It's all right, Bluestreak.", Red Alert said as he magnified his optics to watch he gunner pour his drink closely.

Red Alert listened to Bluestreak as he described a few additives the securiy director could have in his drink. It was the last sentence, though, that made Red Alert's opics widen.

"Poison?", the security mumbled to himself, hoping Bluestreak didn't hear him.

Bluestreak wouldn't have asked 'what's my poison' if he was really going to poison me. Or maybe he said that because he knew that's what I'd think! Or maybe this is just a normal, non-lethal drink and he's being funny. This is where I find out if I can trust him, or if he's doing Prowl's dirty work.

"Nothing that will kill me too quickly! HA HA!", Red Alert forced a laugh.

Was that too obvious?

"Whatever you think is good, I'm not picky.", Red Alert answered as his optics focused on Bluestreak's hands and his drink, "I'm just dying to see if this energon substitute is as good as you say it is......"

Mess Hall

Bluestreak chuckled at Red Alert’s assertion that bartenders do more listening than talking. It was true, of course, as the Autobot gunner had talked the audio receptors off of more than his fair share of barkeeps throughout the vorns. It was his gift of gab that kept the voices of the past at bay, and Blue wouldn’t give it up for anything not even for all the credits in the universe.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that, Red,” Bluestreak agreed as he placed the security director’s drink onto the counter while he considered which additive to mix in. “I’d make a lousy bartender for sure. Too much talk, not enough listening. I’d probably drive everyone out of the place and then what would we be left with? An empty bar, that's what! Ha ha! And that wouldn't be too good now would it? The last time I was in an energon bar, I told my whole life story to the mech behind the counter. I forget his name, but he was a real good listener, though. He took in everything I said and didn't complain once. What's-his-name just kept pouring me drink after drink until my credit limit was maxed out. I didn't get too much advice from him as I recall, but that was okay since I was just venting about stuff anyway.”

The black and silver mech then grabbed a small packet of a powdery substance and ripped it open before sprinkling the contents into Red Alert’s energon drink. Bluestreak let it dissolve for a moment, watching as the purple liquid seemed to glow a little bit brighter. Once the powder was completely absorbed, Blue turned back to face his paranoid comrade. “And don’t worry, Red, it won’t kill you. At least, I hope not!” The gunner let that last comment linger for a moment, hoping to get some kind of nervous reaction from his friend. “Gotcha! I was just kidding. Here ya go, buddy! I put a dash of beta-12 in there. Should give it a little extra kick. I’m sure you’ll love it! So, drink up and enjoy!”

Bluestreak handed the tall glass over to Red Alert and waited to see what he thought of the best energon substitute in the galaxy.

Incoming Private Message to Wheeljack from Tracer

>>”Wheeljack. This is Tracer. I’m the friend Smokescreen accompanied to the planet’s surface. We’re currently en route to the 22, but the shuttle has acquired a hull breach. I don’t think it’s going to make it all the way to the ship. And we need to get there as soon as possible. Smokescreen…Smokey’s been hurt. He’s in stasis lock and he needs help.”<<

Wheeljack’s New Lab

Wheeljack had taken his time setting up his new lab facilities on board the Ark-22. His equipment was securely packed away in a series of crates, most of which had never even been opened during their mission to Cybertron. Sure, he made use of some of his devices while there, but he never had the chance to properly set up a laboratory in Iacon like he wanted. There just hadn’t been the resources available or enough time to accomplish that goal. Still, he didn’t regret seeing his homeworld again regardless of the poor state it was in.

Now those crates were fully unpacked and the contents of which were placed around the facility in an orderly fashion. Wheeljack was nothing if not neat, at least until he got down to developing some new weapons array or fuel pump. Then his work space would quickly devolve into what appeared to be a disaster area, and not just figuratively, either. Tools and equipment would be strewn about haphazardly with very little concern for their proper place. Once ‘Jack was done working on a project he would clean up, but until that time it was enter at your own risk. That risk also included possibly getting caught in an explosion from one of the Autobot scientist’s failed experiments. Thankfully, most knew the dangers and avoided the mechanical engineer while he was working.

Wheeljack’s new lab was divided into two parts. There was the main chamber that one would enter when they first walked through the doorway. It was a fairly large space that allowed him plenty of room and mobility when toiling away on a gizmo or other crazy gadget. It was the part of his lab that was readily accessible to everybody if they dared to enter it. However, there was also a smaller, adjacent chamber located at the very back that served as his own private quarters. The door to that room was locked and protected with an encrypted code, giving him the privacy he desired during his downtime and would even allow him to work on some things that he wanted to keep from prying optics. Every mech had their little secrets and ‘Jack was no exception.

The mechanical engineer sat on a stool in front of his main worktable and began laying out a variety of instruments in front of him. Once that was done, Wheeljack pulled out the old cyber-rat trap he had stowed away inside his toolkit and placed it on the table beside the utensils. Well, Red Alert wants me to fix the damned thing, so I might as well attempt to do so. That way I can at least say I tried when he asks about it the next time I see him. The scientist still couldn’t believe the lies he had to tell to cover Smokescreen’s aft, not to mention that of his lady mech, as well. I hope she was worth it, bud, because I....

Wheeljack’s thoughts were interrupted by a private message over his comm line. He listened to it with intensity in his optics as the source of the communique identified herself as Tracer, the femmebot who went to the Earth’s surface with Smokescreen. Apparently, they were on their way back when the shuttle suffered a hull breach and would likely not make it all the way to the Ark-22. Worse still, the diversion expert was badly hurt and in stasis lock. Ah, Smokey, what the slag did you get yourself into?I knew something bad would happen. I just knew it!

Letting out a heavy sigh, Wheeljack knew that things could only get worse from here on out, depending on just how bad the damage was. More lies and more deceit were forthcoming and probably unavoidable to ensure that none of them got in trouble for this little escapade. Still, Smokescreen was his friend and he would not desert him or his friend now. The mechanical engineer considered his options carefully before he opened an encrypted comm line back to the Autobot femme:

>>”Tracer, this is Wheeljack. I read you. Stay where you are, and I will bounce you on board shortly.”<<

Wheeljack then stood up from his stool and instinctively grabbed his toolkit before heading out of his lab and making his way towards the bounce chamber.

Bounce Chamber

A half bream later, Wheeljack quickly entered the chamber and hurried over to the bounce controls. He began to scan the surrounding area of space but found nothing but static and the planet below. ‘Jack widened his scan before checking the console to make sure it was working properly. It took a few more moments of contemplation before the scientist realized what might be causing the problem.

>>”Tracer, this is Wheeljack again. I’m having a hard time locking on to you. If you’re still wearing my signature inhibitors, you need to take them off both yourself and Smokescreen. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee the bounce will be successful. Do you understand?”<<

Incoming Encrypted Transmissions from Tracer:

>>”I understand, Wheeljack.”<<

>>”Ugh. The inhibitors have been disabled. The three of us are ready to be bounced back on board; just, please, be quick about it.”<<

Bounce Chamber

Once the inhibitors had been disabled, it didn’t take long for Wheeljack to pinpoint Tracer’s location and lock on to her and her companions. The femme’s signature was the strongest while the other two appeared much weaker in comparison, especially Smokescreen’s. His was barely a blip on the control screen, but it was enough to secure a lock on him.

>>”Okay, Tracer, I’ve got you. Hold on tight and I’ll have you out of there in two astroseconds.”<<

With his last secured transmission sent, Wheeljack shifted the control lever upwards and initiated the bounce. An intense light filled the room as the three mechanoids materialized right before the scientist’s optics. Once the glare had dissipated, ‘Jack was able to focus on the console once more. He immediately deleted the current log file and replaced it with a new one that would hide the true nature of the bounce. It would all appear to be a simple misfire caused by a power surge. All data regarding who was bounced and from where was gone with no way of ever getting it back.

Once all that was done, the scientist peered over the terminal and was able to see, even from a distance, the horrible condition Smokescreen was in. “Dear Primus!” Wheeljack exclaimed as he rushed across the room and onto the bounce pad, kneeling down at the diversion expert’s side. He barely acknowledged Tracer or her pet turbofox as his attention was fixated on the inert form of his long time friend and comrade. “What the frag happened to him down there? He looks like he took a bath in a vat of acid!” The mechanical engineer shook his cranial unit in disbelief. He couldn't understand how this had happened let alone how Smokescreen's spark was still pulsating underneath all that mess, if only barely. “It doesn’t matter right now. We need to get him down to my lab right away if there’s any chance of saving his spark!”

Wheeljack got back up to his feet and quickly grabbed a hover cart that was sitting off to one side. After it was brought over to the bounce pad, the mechanical engineer stepped onto the platform again and lifted Smokescreen up in his arms and placed his dissolved body onto the cart as carefully as he could. Time was of the essence here, so he didn’t have the luxury of being too gentle. “Okay, my lab’s a half breem away from here. We’ll use the service corridor so we won’t be spotted by anyone. Plus, it will save time. Just follow me and keep that pet of yours quiet. We don’t need Red Alert hearing him. Now, let’s get going.”

The scientist wasted no time and pushed the hover cart out the door and into the service corridor that proved to be a more direct route back to his workshop. As he maneuvered through the thin tunnel, Wheeljack opened a comm line to Red Alert in order to let him know of the "accidental" bounce that was initiated. Hopefully, the lie 'Jack was about to tell would be believable enough to ward off another investigation by the paranoid mech.

>>"Hey, Red, it's Wheeljack. I just wanted to inform you that I was testing a new plasma coil on the bounce pad when it overloaded and caused a bounce to be initiated unintentionally. Nothing was transported, it was just a misfire. Don't worry, I've already fixed everything. Nothing to worry about. Just giving you the heads up."<<

Wheeljack’s Lab

The doors barely had time to slide all the way apart as Wheeljack shoved the hover cart, with Smokescreen inside, across the threshold and into the center of the room. Once Tracer and Razr had entered behind him, ‘Jack moved back towards the entrance and pressed the controls, closing and locking the doors shut. He then returned to the rallybot’s side and lifted him out of the cart and onto one of his worktables. It wasn’t exactly a medical berth, but it would have to do under these circumstances as taking Smokey to the med bay was out of the question. There was too much risk of exposure there. Besides, the mechanical engineer had what he needed right in his lab.

“All right, we’ll have privacy in here. No one can get in without my authorization. Now, I need to first do a full body scan of Smokescreen to see what exactly is going on here and what I can salvage, if anything.” Wheeljack’s words trailed off as he moved to another nearby workbench. He grabbed a small portable scanner and quickly switched it on. Then he moved back to the diversion expert’s side and held the device over the prone form of his gravely injured comrade. ‘Jack slowly glided the scanner from head to toe and back again as readings filled the tiny screen on the instrument.

Once that was completed, Wheeljack studied the readings carefully, shaking his head once again in astonishment. “I...I just can’t believe it. I’ve never seen a mech in such bad shape like this before and still be alive somehow. His will to live must be incredibly strong. Whatever chemical did this, it’s melted almost completely through his torso, except for his spark chamber, thankfully. And I’m not even going to ask where his right arm is.” Wheeljack then looked closer at the scan results and saw something else that was strange. “Wait an astrosec, what’s this? Looks like there’s an object in his right leg compartment.”

Wheeljack moved to the opposite side of the worktable and slid his actuators along Smokescreen’s upper leg until he found the compartment in question. Once it was open, the scientist reached in and pulled out a vile of unknown chemical. It was unknown to him, at least, but not to Tracer. “What the frag is this stuff?” Wheeljack demanded to know as he turned to face the Syk-addicted femme while holding the vile up at chest level. “Looks like a chemical of some kind. Is this a sample of what caused all this damage? You need to be honest with me now, Tracer, if I’m going to save Smokescreen’s life. Tell me exactly what happened down there!”

Bounce Chamber

There was one final transmission from the mechanical engineer letting Tracer know that he had initiated the bounce back to the Ark – 22. The femme waited patiently until that Primus sent bright light bathed all three of them in its secure embrace. And then the light was gone, and with it the three occupants of the derelict shuttle.

From the small space of the shuttle’s hold the three Autobots appeared on the bounce platform, two standing one lying unmoving in stasis lock. Immediately Tracer dropped to her knees beside Smokescreen’s still form. Her head snapped up when she heard Wheeljack cry out at the condition his good friend returned in.

Tracer flinched slightly at the engineer’s horrified and distressed exclamation. But she remained silent. Not wanting to focus on the distraught mech standing opposite her, Tracer looked back down at Smokescreen.

Devastation began to wash over her features at Wheeljack’s mention of getting him back to the engineer’s lab if there was any chance to save his spark. The femme simply nodded in agreement before getting back up on her feet. She watched closely while Wheeljack lifted Smokescreen up in his arms and quickly placed him on an available hover cart. He then hastily explained which way they were headed and moved out of the bounce chamber.

The trip took little time and before the scout knew it they were standing in front of the lab’s doors.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer stood by the white mech rubbing her hands together nervously as he opened the door and quickly shoved himself and the cart inside. Tracer and Razr followed suit. The small turbofox moved out of the way finding a comfortable spot just across the lab where he could watch both Autobots’ movements.

While her pet removed himself from the picture, Tracer stepped in close to one side of the worktable Smokescreen was laid out on. She winced and let out a soft whimper as she finally got a better look at just what Oil Slick had done to him. The blue and white femme turned her head away and placed a hand over her mouth.

Tracer remained in that position while Wheeljack explained everything he was doing to the red and blue rallybot. The sound of his astonishment caused her to look back, but she kept her optics on the mechanical engineer. His mention of Smokescreen’s strong will to continue functioning brought a sense of hope to her.

She held tight to that hope until the scanning revealed there was something in Smokescreen’s right leg compartment. Tracer finally broke off her gaze from Wheeljack and focused, instead on Smokescreen’s right leg. To her knowledge he never mentioned anything about storing anything there…at least she didn’t remember him mentioning it.

She narrowed her optics as the white mech ran his fingers along Smokescreen’s upper leg. The sealed compartment opened up once he found the right location. He placed his hand inside and produced a vial; a vial similar to the ones she received from Oil Slick after she made her payment.

Tracer stumbled back a few steps, her optics wide with fear. She tried to speak, to let the scientist know that the substance was nothing more than a harmless sample they acquired on the surface, but the words escaped her. There was nothing she could say that would convince him that anything that occurred down on the planet was harmless.

The scout shook her head slowly while she kept her optics glued to the vial held tightly in front of his own chest. She thought for a moment before finally looking back up and into Wheeljack’s optics.

“I…I can’t.”

She quickly looked away from him and shut off her optics. There was no way she could look at him, but there was also no way she could lie to him. She onlined her optics and focused on Smokescreen’s still body. Her hands began to shake lightly as she gently traced the contours of Smokescreen’s cheek.

She continued her soft caress as she finally found her voice. If this was the only way to save him; then so be it.

“He just wanted to help me. To save me from myself. But everything went wrong. I told him to stay with the shuttle; to wait for me, but he followed. The vial…it’s Syk. He took me down to the planet so I could meet my dealer.”

Tracer slowly turned her attention back up to the scientist. Fear etched on her face, not only for being found out, but for possibly losing Smokescreen because of her addiction.

“It was Oil Slick. He doused Smokescreen in acid. He even doused the shuttle in it. It’s what caused the hull breach.”

Her optics dimmed as she turned back to the rallybot. Her fingers moving back to his cheek.

“Please, Wheeljack, tell me you can save him.”

Tracer placed her free hand on top of Smokescreen’s left palm and laced her fingers with his.

“He’s everything to me.”

Mess Hall

Red Alert kept quiet and carefully observed Bluestreak's bartending, giving a light chuckle when he thought it appropriate. The gunner seemed to take Red Alert's comments in stride, seemingly not suspecting that the security director may be on to something. All the better as the powder, supposedly beta-12, was mixed with the energon.

So which is, Bluestreak? Are you just a typical, talkative bot who's enjoying a drink with a fellow Autobot? Or are you a cunning, manipulative conspirator who plans to poison the one bot who may be able to put a stop to Prowl's mad quest for power? Which is it my dear "friend"?

With a smile on his face Bluestreak placed the drink on the table right in front of Red Alert. His attempts to appear calm and casual started to crack as Red Alert's paranoia started to show, staring at the energon substitute with ever growing suspicion.

Cautiously, carefully he took the glass with both hands and slowly brought it closer to him, as if it were a bomb ready to go off. Magnifying his optics to their limit, he looked directly into the liquid as if he could possibly see any poisons that might be in there. He then lowered his face closer to the glass, sniffing it with his advanced olfactory sensors for what may have seemed like a breem, attempting to scan every last odor within.

It seems to be a standard energon substitute, as well as beta-12 like Bluestreak said. But there's still plenty of other chemicals and poisons that may be able to pass through even my advanced sensors.

Red Alert looked back up, directly into Bluestreak's optics. He watched the gunner for any kind of sign, any tell or tic that would give away the slightest hint of malicious intent. As he looked down at the glass of energon substitute again, he recieved a communication from Wheeljack about causing an "accidental" bounce while testing some new device. For a minute Red Alert forgot about Bluestreak and his drink.

Right of course, an accidental bounce. Of course that happened, it's more believable than explaining how a shuttle, damaged beyond repair, made it all the way here from Cybertron, isn't it? What are you really hiding, Wheeljack? What did Prowl need to send that shuttle for, anyway? Just what part are you playing in this conspiracy?

Red Alert pushed his drink to the edge of the table, away from him, then opened a comm-link to the engineer. He spoke very calmly and unemotionally.

>>Understood Wheeljack, thank you for informing me.... Since you've moved onto other projects, does that mean the cyber-rat trap is functional now?>>

Closing the comm-link with Wheeljack, Red Alert stared at Bluestreak, cold and calculating. He had tried to play casual, but he had learned nothing of what was going on or who he could trust, and things were moving around him. If he was going to find out what was going on and put a stop to whatever Prowl had planned, he was going to have to be direct.

"If I'm going to drink this,", Red Alert said very seriously, "I need to know I can trust you. Tell me something, Bluestreak; do you know what Wheeljack was doing when we were on Cybertron recently?"

Red Alert took hold of the glass, still full of energon substitute. He stood up, looked at the glass in his hand, then gave Bluestreak a threatening look.

"And if you give me an answer that I don't like, you'll be drinking your own poison, and see if it kills you... Let's hope not."

Mess Hall

Bluestreak’s intention when he invited Red Alert down to the mess hall was to have drinks with an old comrade, chit chat a little (mostly on Blue’s part) and just sit back and relax. That’s what the Autobot gunner had expected to happen, but what he got, instead, was a level of paranoia that rivaled his own ability to talk non-stop. At first, the security director had appeared calm and not worried about anything in particular. Then, suddenly, an about face had happened and Red Alert turned very serious, demanding to know what Wheeljack had been doing up on Cybertron during the recent mission. The anxious mech followed that up with a warning that if he didn’t like the gunner’s answer, he’d make Blue drink his own poison to see if it would kill him. At that point, Bluestreak had heard enough.

“Seriously, Red? You really think I brought you down here to poison you?!” The black and silver mech’s tone had gone from his usual friendly self to someone who felt angry and insulted at the mere insinuation of such a betrayal. “Give me that!” Bluestreak grabbed the glass out of Red Alert’s hand and drank it down in one gulp. He then slammed it down on the table and stared his paranoid friend right in the optics. “See, Red? Nothing happened. I’m fine just like you would’ve been had you drank it. I brought you down here as a way for us to relax after the long journey from Cybertron. You know, to unwind your circuits since you tend to be just a little bit tense at times. I certainly didn’t bring you here to kill you if that’s what you thought!”

Bluestreak shook his cranium and turned away from Red Alert, placing both hands onto his waist. ‘Streak took a deep intake of air into his systems and let it out before turning back to look at the security director. “As for what Wheeljack was doing up there on Cybertron, I can only tell you what I know since the time I first arrived there. Remember I wasn’t a part of the mission from the very beginning. I got there by long-range shuttle later on when reinforcements were called in. When I joined the team, ‘Jack was helping to get Autobot Headquarters in Iacon back up and running. I don’t know all the details because I had my own duties to perform. Namely, I was helping Springer fix our automated defensive guns around the perimeter. I do know that Wheeljack eventually accompanied Rodimus and a few others to meet with Shockwave. The cyclops had requested safe passage into our territory in order to gather data of some kind in order to help restore Cybertron. After that, we were all called back here when Prime went missing. I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”

The Autobot gunner stopped talking for a moment, a rarity for him. His circuits had finally begun to calm down after losing his cool for a brief time, also a rarity for him. Bluestreak hadn’t felt such anger since the last time he’d seen a Decepticon on the battlefield. It was unusual for him to feel this way when around his own kind, but being accused of betraying his friend and comrade was like being accused of joining the Decepticons. It was something 'Streak couldn’t just let go without a strong response.

“Look, Red, you should know me better than that. After everything the ‘Cons have done to me, I’m the last mech who would betray you or any Autobot for that matter,” Bluestreak finally continued when his normal level of calm had returned. “I don’t know what you think is going on around here, but I think your paranoia is getting the better of you again. I’m not trying to be mean or condescending, I’m just trying to make you see how ridiculous it is to think that your own comrades are out to get you. Wheeljack and I are your friends. You’ve known us for thousands of vorns. We’ve fought beside one another on the battlefield. We’re here to support you not hurt you! Besides, if there’s any mech around here you should be suspicious of it’s Howlstrike. He’s a former Predacon for Primus’ sake! At least being paranoid about him I could understand, but not myself or ‘Jack. You really need to get a grip and relax. That’s why I brought you down here to begin with.”

“Now, if you don’t like my answer, then I’m sorry, Red. I’m afraid it’s the only one I’ve got,” Bluestreak added as he crossed his arms over his chestplate to see if anything he had said was sinking in to his paranoid friend’s circuits. He hoped all this crazy talk would stop as he couldn’t take much more of Red Alert’s paranoid delusions. Although, somehow he doubted it would end any more than his own penchant for non-stop chatter.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack could see that Tracer was afraid to tell him the truth, at first saying that she couldn’t. Whatever was in the vile he was holding was the whole reason she and Smokescreen had travelled to the surface to begin with and it eventually led to the diversion expert ending up in such a precarious state. Then, finally, the clearly upset and troubled femme told him what it was - Syk. She was an addict and needed her next fix from Oil Slick, her dealer. Apparently, Smokescreen had found out about her situation and tried to help her. It didn’t surprise ‘Jack one bit that Smokey was attempting to help a friend in need. He was certainly as loyal a friend as one could have, and his deceitful nature had enabled him to easily break the rules in order to get Tracer what she needed.

Of course, things had gone very wrong and Smokescreen paid the ultimate price at the hands of Oil Slick. The Decepticon chemist was known for extremely volatile concoctions, so the extensive damage the rallybot had sustained made complete sense now. Tracer was very lucky to have escaped unscathed. Unfortunately, Smokey’s body was unrepairable. The mechanical engineer could see that without having to conduct another scan. Some parts could be salvaged, but overall it was a total loss.

Wheeljack placed the vile of Syk onto a nearby bench and then approached Tracer. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” the scientist said as he placed a reassuring hand on the femme’s shoulder plate. “I figured it was something very important, otherwise Smokescreen wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to get you down there. As for saving him, I can’t save his body, but I can save his spark. After that, I’ll need to build him a whole new body. But, first thing’s first.”

The scientist removed his hand from her shoulder and then accessed a nearby storage locker where he pulled out a spark extractor of his own design along with a small metallic receptacle. Afterwards, Wheeljack quickly returned to Smokescreen’s side and placed the instrument and container down on the table beside him. ‘Jack leaned forward to examine the diversion expert’s chest area more closely. The acid had long since dried up, but the damage had been done. Nothing but a gaping hole was left behind, but it at least left a clear path straight to his spark chamber.

As Wheeljack picked up the extractor, a response from Red Alert came in over his comm line, giving thanks for informing him about the bounce. However, with that thanks also came an inquiry on the status of the cyber-rat trap. The mechanical engineer let out a deep sigh as he currently had more important things to worry about than traps.

>>”Sorry, Red, I was having trouble repairing the damned thing and decided to move on to something else. I’ll try to fix it again later.”<<

With that distraction out of the way, Wheeljack refocused on the task at hand. He quickly attached the container to the back of the spark extractor, before lifting the device up and maneuvering it over top of Smokescreen’s chest, front side facing down. The mad scientist then carefully lowered it into the rallybot’s innards until it had automatically latched on to the stasis-locked mech’s sealed spark chamber. Without delay, Wheeljack activated the exactor, and it immediately hummed to life with a warm glow. However, that gentle hum was quickly replaced with a much louder, harsher sound of scraping metal as the device forced the diversion specialist’s spark chamber open. The instrument then literally sucked the very life force out of Smokey’s chest and deposited it into the attached vessel.

Once the procedure was done, Wheeljack deactivated the extractor and disconnected the small container that now held Smokescreen’s still pulsating spark, which could be seen though a small window on the side. After placing the extractor down, the mechanical engineer walked back over to where Tracer was standing and handed her the sealed receptacle. “Here, do me a favor and keep Smokey’s spark safe. Since he was willing to give it up in order to protect you, I think it’s fitting that you now protect it until I can get a new body built for him. Agreed?”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Revealing her addiction to Smokescreen had been difficult, and she was close to him, but having to do it again to someone she hardly knew was completely mortifying. The thought of being judged or being look down upon was horrific, that wasn’t as horrifying as not knowing whether or not Wheeljack would report her to high command. If she was found out she’d spend the rest of her existence locked away in some penal colony, or worse, locked away in another asylum.

That thought sent a violent shiver down her spinal structure. Having already been subject to the inner workings of some of Cybertron’s more degrading mental facilities, Tracer decided she’d rather go down fighting than be subject to that kind of hell again.

But when she saw the mechanical engineer place the vial of the Syk concoction on the bench nearby she looked up at him. He had moved closer to her and, to her surprise, didn’t admonish her nor did he show any outward sign that he would turn her over to Prowl. With some great relief Tracer let out a heavy sigh. The kindly gesture of placing his hand on her shoulder was also a promising sign that, for now, she was safe.

Tracer nodded at the mention of hers and Smokescreen’s planned departure from the Ark – 19 having to do with something very important. He was right. She didn’t think the rallybot would do the same for anyone else. That thought brought a small smile to her face.

The scout’s musings were interrupted when Wheeljack moved on to more important things…like saving the red and blue mech’s life. The femme stared intently into the engineer’s optics as he spoke of not being able to save Smokescreen’s body. But he reassured her that his spark could and would be saved. She dimmed her optics at the same time she broke off her gaze from Wheeljack. Tracer stared down at the mangled mech’s form and ran the back of her hand down his cheek one last time.

She turned her attention back toward the resident mad scientist when she felt his hand move from her shoulder and he made his way to a storage locker. She watched intently as he brought out a device that looked strangely similar to a spark extractor, but the design was off so she couldn’t be entirely sure. It was when she spotted the metallic receptacle that she realized what he was preparing to do.

Her blue and white form moved away from the table giving Wheeljack as much space as she could without leaving Smokescreen’s side. Her optics zeroed in on the placement of the device in the prone mech’s chest cavity and winced when she heard it hum to life. It was soft, almost soothing, but it soon turned into the sickening sound of scraping metal. Tracer wrapped her arms around herself and averted her optics from the disturbing sight. She remained that way even when she could hear that the spark extractor had completed its job.

Tracer focused on the floor and nothing else, too terrified of just what she might see. She never even heard Wheeljack make his way over to her until she saw the soft, pulsing glow of Smokescreen’s spark reflecting off of her armor. She looked up, first at Wheeljack and then to the container he held out to her. Her optics never moved from the bright glow even when he asked her to keep him safe. Gently she took the receptacle in her slightly trembling hands and brought it in close to her chest…cradling it lightly.
The femme finally looked up and gave Wheeljack a grateful smile after explaining why he wanted her to look after him.

“Agreed.”

The smile faltered as she recalled what Smokey had said about Wheeljack and his inventions…they almost always blow up in his face, or in someone else’s.

“Wheeljack, I know this is going to be a rather time consuming task and that you’ll need to work long hours to get everything done. I was thinking that maybe perhaps there was someone who could give you a hand? Preferably a medic who won’t have a problem keeping all of this under wraps? Of course if you’d prefer to work alone, I’ll understand and I won’t press the issue.”

Please call someone! Please call someone! Because if you don’t I will.

Mess Hall

Apparently Bluestreak hadn't taken Red Alert's accusations of assasination very well- that wasn't too much of a surprise. The security director was however caught offguard by the gunner suddenly grabbing the drink Red Alert was holding and gulping it down.

So it wasn't poisoned. Unless that first drink Bluestreak had was the antidote.....

Red Alert kept a guarded look as Bluestreak berated him. If it turned out Bluestreak was innocent he would apologize later, but for now he kept a close watch on the gunner's expressions and mannerisms. As what Bluestreak knew of Wheeljack's activities were revealed, it seemed to Red Alert that the gunner was telling the truth, though his fixation on the former-Decepticon Howlstrike was a bit discerning. The gunner made a number of good points regarding his past loyalty with the Autobots and hatred of the Decepticons. The only problem was that, as far as Red Alert knew, the Decepticons weren't any part of this. This was entirely an internal matter within the Autobot ranks that threatened to tear them apart.

Red Alert stepped closer to Bluestreak and looked him right into the optics. If he felt any remorse or guilt toward what he had said or thought about Bluestreak, he didn't show the slightest hint.

"So you know nothing about Wheeljack experimenting with the Ark-22 shuttles? Nothing about any of the shuttles being damaged beyond repair and left behind on Cybertron?", Red Alert asked rhetorically.

It was then that Red Alert recieved a reply from Wheeljack about the cyber-rat traps. Red Alert's faceplate twitched as the engineer said he was having trouble fixing it. He was really starting to lose his composure as he had to hear more lies from an Autobot he thought he could trust.

"Of course you're having trouble fixing it....", Red Alert said to himself out loud, too frustrated to internalize his thoughts, "Because you're not even trying, are you? I'll bet that thing never even worked and you're hoping I'll get distracted by something else and forget about it! Just keep me further away from the truth, further away from whatever you and Prowl are doing!"

He looked back at Bluestreak, who stood with his arms crossed like he was expecting an apology or an explanation. For now he'd get neither.

"I don't know if you were going to kill me, distract me, or if you really are just being friendly.", Red Alert said annoyed, "The fact is I've been wasting my time with you. I'm going to the bounce chamber to get to the bottom of this. Do whatever you want, but if you try to stop me I'll throw you in a holding cell for playing a part in this conspiracy!"

Unceremoniously Red Alert turned around, and headed out the mess hall door.

Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack nodded as Tracer took hold of Smokescreen’s spark and held the container it was in close to her chest. “Excellent. Now, I’ve got two more organs that I need to salvage if this rebuild is going to go smoothly.” The mad scientist moved back to the worktable where Smokey’s ruined body lay dormant. “The spark is only one third of what’s called Rossum’s Trinity. I need to remove both his brain module as well as his transformation cog. According to my previous scans, both are intact. Although, the T-cog did suffer some slight damage from the acid, but it doesn’t appear to be anything that can’t be repaired.”

Rummaging through his toolkit, Wheeljack finally found and pulled out a small blow torch that he would use to gain access to both organs. The mechanical engineer opted to begin with extracting the brain module and approached the head of the worktable. As he peered down into Smokescreen’s dead optics, he heard Tracer suggest calling in a medic in order to assist with the reconstruction. ‘Jack scoffed at the notion that he needed help and simply waved his free hand at the troubled femme. “That won’t be necessary, Tracer. I may not be a medic, but I think I can remove a couple of organs. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

Wheeljack then ignited the blow torch and bent down over top of the rallybot’s cranial unit. He brought the intense flame into contact with Smokey’s forehead and carefully moved the hot instrument around the upper portion of his friend’s head until he had completely encircled it, returning the torch to the point of origin. Once that was done, ‘Jack easily pulled off the top of the diversion expert’s cranium and discarded the bowl-like piece of metal into a pile of nearby junk.

The mad scientist then squatted down to get a better look at the now exposed brain unit. The module appeared much more complex than ‘Jack had initially anticipated. There were numerous wires and cerebral circuitry that interconnected with one another, forming a maze-like assembly. It all culminated at the base of the cranium interior which was not presently visible to the naked optic. This certainly wouldn’t be as easy as just pulling out the brain like the spark had been extracted.

“Mmmmm,” Wheeljack let escape from his vocalizer as he rubbed his chin guard with his one hand. He dove into his toolkit again, looking for something he could use to safely latch on to the top of the brain module so he could pull it out at least part way and therefore gain access to the primary connections underneath. However, the only thing he could find was a standard metal clamp which would do him little good. No, he would have to get his own hands dirty on this one.

Remaining in a squatted position at the head of the worktable, Wheeljack reached both hands forward and carefully worked his actuators into the small area between the brain module and the interior walls of the cranial unit. Once he had a decent grip, ‘Jack slowly pulled out Smokey’s processor until the multitude of wires at the base became taunt. The mechanical engineer then laid the brain down, half of which onto the table while the rest remained within the now hollow cranium.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad now was it?” Wheeljack asked rhetorically as he glanced up at Tracer, who looked more than a bit concerned. He then stood all the way up and stretched his legs. “Now, I just have to disconnect all that stuff.” The scientist leaned forward once more to get a closer look at the various connections that would have to be severed in order to free the brain unit successfully. He could just use wire cutters, but being that this was an actual biological organ and not just a technological device, it would be unwise to simply cut the cerebral couplings. No, as much as ‘Jack hated to admit it, Tracer was right. A real medic was needed here as the engineer was clearly out of his league.

Straightening his posture back up, Wheeljack looked over at Tracer again. “All right, so maybe I’ll need some help with this after all. If you know a medic on board the Guardian that you feel we can trust then call him in. Meanwhile, I’ll hook up an energon line to Smokey’s body in order to keep the brain unit and T-cog functioning.” With that said, ‘Jack got down to business and hooked up not just one but two energon lines to the rallybot’s wrecked and melted form. Considering the T-cog was located in the lower torso region, there would be no way for one line to reach both that and the cranium, as well. There was simply too much acidic damage and obstruction between the two organs. Fortunately, the pair of tubes did the trick just fine and would keep the vital components operational until Tracer’s medic arrived.

Mess Hall

Everything had gone downhill so quickly that Bluestreak had a tough time understanding what the slag was going on. The only thing he understood was that Red Alert’s paranoia was in full swing and nothing was going to abate him from discovering some kind of conspiracy within the Autobot ranks, whether it was real or imaginary. Everything that the anxiety-riddled mech was saying or eluded to sounded crazy, but Red clearly didn’t want to hear that. He just wanted confirmation that something bad was going on and he wanted to be the one to discover and stop it.

The security director asked again about Wheeljack and some damaged shuttle. Blue was about to reiterate his prior answer but was cut off when Red Alert received a transmission back from the engineer regarding a cyber-rat trap. The suspicious ‘Bot then went on a verbal tirade to himself about how the scientist wasn’t even trying to fix anything and that he was just attempting to keep Red away from the truth about what was really going on. The mention of Prowl caused the gunner’s optics to widen in surprise, but not as much as the threat of being locked up if he got in the security chief’s way.

Bluestreak was actually speechless as Red Alert left the mess hall in a huff, having had not even one drop of energon the entire time down there. The whole situation seemed surreal to the black and silver mech as he had never seen Red’s paranoia reach this insane level before. If Prowl was somehow involved in something secret, then Red would be best to stay out of it as the military strategist was not one to take prying into his affairs lightly. I’d better go after him before he gets himself into trouble.

Corridor outside Mess Hall

Hurrying after Red Alert, Bluestreak entered the corridor and walked alongside his clearly agitated friend. “Look, Red, I’m not going to try and stop you. You are clearly determined to find out what’s going on here. But, as your friend, I have to tell you that routing around in something that may involve Prowl is not a good idea. He has his secrets, you know. He’s Prowl, after all. He’s always doing something behind the scenes that no one else is aware of. That’s just what he does. Not only that but he’s also the highest ranking officer in this sector. Even if you find something bad regarding him, who would you take it to? He’s technically your boss!”

Bluestreak paused briefly as he tried to keep in step with the anxious mech beside him. “As for Wheeljack, if he’s also involved in something secret then he’s probably just following Prowl’s orders. You know, in war time it’s very common for there to be covert missions that nobody is privy to except for the higher ups. It’s all top secret stuff and the like. It’s really par for the course. If you go searching for answers, you could be in violation of certain protocols. Prowl could very well end up throwing you into the brig for sticking that nose of yours in his affairs. I just don’t want to see you get in trouble over what is likely just some kind of clandestine operation against the ‘Cons. Believe me, I’m no fan of the resident prick-bot, but he is the interim leader and I’m sure whatever he’s doing is in the best interests of all Autobots. I admit that his methods may often be questionable, but he's never done anything in the past to hurt our cause, right?”

The Autobot gunner let out a sigh, hoping that at least some of his words were getting through Red Alert’s thick cranium. “You know, Red, you’re spending so much time looking for internal threats that you may miss signs of external ones. I mean, the Decepticons are planning something out there right now. I can feel it in my servos. They’re not going to just sit on their actuators all cycle and hope that we give up. Shouldn’t we be more concerned with what they’re doing and less about Prowl and his silly little secrets?”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Tracer became nervous as the mechanical engineer hadn’t answered her question about possibly calling a medic but instead moved back to Smokescreen’s inert form and began to explain the science behind Rossum’s Trinity. The femme had heard of it but never really knew the facts surrounding it. Upon hearing Wheeljack’s explanation of its concept, Tracer’s optics widened in fear. He can't possibly do that! He’s not a medic!

Tracer clutched the receptacle closer to her chest while she observed Jack go through the various tools in his toolkit that sat close by. Tracer shook her head in disbelief when she saw the blow torch pulled from the kit. Oh Primus! He’s not going to…Agh, he is!

It was only when he moved to the head of the table that the engineer responded to her question concerning calling in a medic. She looked from the body’s cranium and over to the white mech. His answer caused Tracer’s back to go rigid. There was no telling what kind of damage this mech could do. She may never see Smokescreen again.

She was ready to object to his assurance that he could perform the operation when he ignited the blow torch and went right to work at opening Smokescreen’s cranium. Had she proceeded she might have caused Wheeljack to jerk and possibly destroy the brain module. No, she’d have to keep her distance.

He had gotten halfway around when she just couldn’t stand to look anymore. Tracer averted her optics so she was staring at the floor in front of her, but that still was not enough. From that position she turned completely around and took in a few intakes of cool air. There was no need for it, but the anxiety was building...she needed a way to relieve it.

She relaxed, but only slightly, when she heard the torch extinguish, however she nearly jumped out of her armor when she heard a crash come from behind her. She took a quick peek over her shoulder to make sure the scientist hadn’t done anything damaging.

“Oh Primus!”

The sight of Wheeljack squatting down with his hands inside Smokescreen’s cranium was more than she could take. She quickly turned back around and doubled over. There was a slight urge to purge but she was able to hold back. She just had to remember to keep her optics off the gory scene going on behind her.

It took a few moments but finally she straightened back up and lifted her head up...eyes focused on the ceiling. Tracer shook her head when she heard him ask his ridiculous rhetorical question. Not so bad? You really are a nutcase. She shut off her optics as he began giving the play by play…not exactly what she wanted or needed to hear.

“Wheeljack, please. He means everything to me; I really don’t need to hear exactly how you’re dismantling him.”

It grew quiet, Tracer began to worry. Okay I said I didn’t want him to tell me everything he was doing, but not saying anything at all…that’s just cruel. She onlined her optics in surprised when he finally admitted he needed the assistance of a medic. Oh thank Primus.

The scout turned back around only to be greeted by the sight of Smokescreen’s brain module half resting on the table, the other half, mostly the wire harnesses, remained within the cranium. Tracer’s optics widened before she lowered her gaze to the floor.

“I don’t know any…um…personally, but once we arrived I added all of the Ark - 19s crew members' personnel files to the Guardian’s manifest.”

She took a quick look around and spotted a computer terminal situation on the back bench. Tracer quickly made her way to it and patched in to the Guardian’s computer. She was sure to redirect the data to keep the information from being tracked directly to Wheeljack’s lab, and more importantly to the Ark – 22.

Tracer scanned through the information and came across only one medic that fit the criteria that was required…familiar with transplants and insubordinate enough to keep his mouth shut. She wasted no time in contacting the mech.

>>”Axle. This is Tracer. I’m with Wheeljack in his lab on board the 22. Uh…we’re…um…going to need a hand with something. Could you get over here, like now?”<<

She picked up the canister holding Smokescreen’s spark off the bench and turned around to face Wheeljack.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

>>”Tracer, this is Axle I’m on my way.”<<

Tracer nearly jumped when her comm line lit up. Has to be him. She looked to Wheeljack with a slight smile on her face.

“He’s on his way.”

Outside Wheeljack’s Lab

Since leaving the medical bay on the Guardian, Axle had spent his time wandering its corridors. He was already a few corridors away and one deck bellow when he arrived at the air lock. He crossed the threshold and finally into the Ark. He knew the layout of the vessel as it was quite similar to the Ark – 19 that was docked on the opposite side of the Guardian.

“Okay, the lab is…this way.”

He took off at a sprint until he found the door he’d been looking for. He came to an abrupt stop and tried to enter the lab. He let out a sigh when he tried again and got no response from the door. Axle then tried entering the standard code, but that too had no effect. Finally the medic decided to resort to gaining access the old fashioned way. He raised his fist and knocked on the door.

“Wheeljack! Open the door!”

He gave a lighthearted chuckle before he knocked again.

“Don’t tell me you blew off both your arms and can’t access the keypad!”

Wheeljack’s Lab

“Axle, huh?” Wheeljack responded to Tracer with an approving nod. “Good choice. He’s no Ratchet, mind you, but at least he knows how to keep a secret, which is exactly what we’re going to need. Although, I’ve got to tell you I had a hell of a time trying to get Red Alert off your scent. And I mean that literally! He actually smelled something with that nose of his which lead him right to the hangar bay.”

The scientist then glanced down at Razr who was sitting a short distance away before returning his gaze to the troubled femme. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that it was your little pet turbofox there that Red’s olfactory sensors picked up. Slag! That means as soon as Mr. Paranoid wanders anywhere near the bounce chamber, he’ll pick up the scent again and it’ll lead him directly here! Tracer, you need to get your pet out of my lab ASAP! Send him somewhere, anywhere! At the very least it’ll draw Red away from here so Axle and I can work on Smokescreen uninterrupted.”

Wheeljack didn’t wait for Tracer to act on his suggestion and instead moved over to the same terminal the femme had just used. With the diversion expert hooked up to the proper life lines, the mechanical engineer could do little more with his ruined body until Axle arrived on scene. In the meantime, ‘Jack accessed the Guardian’s central database, utilizing the same misdirection protocols that Tracer used in order to cover his tracks. There he found the latest design and schematics for Smokescreen’s body, taken directly from the last time the rallybot had used a CR chamber for repairs. Once the plans were downloaded to his terminal, ‘Jack cut the secured connection and took a closer look at them.

“Doesn’t look like his design’s changed all that much since he first arrived here on Sol-3,” Wheeljack commented aloud to himself. “Although, he could use an updated alt mode. He’s had the same one for several solar years now. Let’s see here...” The engineer scanned through the Ark-22’s own database of Earth alt modes, quickly finding a Nissan 370Z, which was the newest model of Smokey’s current form. “There we go, that should be....oh wait.” Looking closely at the logs he noticed that the 370Z was recently acquired by Bluestreak, who shared a similar body chassis to Smokescreen. “Yeah, this isn’t going to work. Smokey would kill me if he looked exactly like ol’ motormouth. I need to find something else.”

It took several more astroseconds for Wheeljack to scan through the database, but finally he settled on a Subaru BRZ, an alt mode that would suit the rallybot perfectly. “That’s it! That’s the one! Similar enough to fit his framework, but also different enough to maintain a distinct identity. Now, to apply the vehicle’s design to Smokey’s schematics.” With a push of a button, the diversion expert’s CG body model was updated to incorporate the BRZ. It wasn’t a drastic change in his overall design, but it would still be a nice upgrade that hopefully Smokescreen would be pleased with once he was finally whole again.

As Wheeljack finished updating his friend’s schematics for the eventually rebuild, a loud bang came on the main door to the lab. That was immediately followed by the sound of Axle’s vocal processor demanding to be let in. Of course, the field medic had to add in a joke about ‘Jack possibly blowing off both his arms, but that was something the mechanical engineer had gotten used to long ago. And considering how many failed experiments of his had really blown up in his faceplate, ‘Jack could understand the ribbing he got on a regular basis.

“I’m coming!” Wheeljack shouted back as he hurried to the door. Typing in the security codes, the scientist waited a moment for the door to slide open before greeting Axle with a wave. “Sorry about that. My arms are both fine. See? I just didn’t want anyone having access to my lab, especially not right now. Come in! There's a lot to do.” Once the medic was inside, ‘Jack closed and locked the door again before guiding Axle to the worktable where the diversion expert’s melted body was strewn out on with his brain module hanging half out of his cranium.

“Now, before you say anything, Axle, I DID NOT DO THIS! Smokey and Tracer here had gone down to the planet without authorization. I’ll let her fill you in on the reasons why. Long story short, they encountered Oil Slick who doused Smokescreen with a good amount of an acidic compound. Tracer then contacted me and I bounced them on board. I can’t fix the damage as it’s too severe so I’m forced to rebuild Smokey’s body from scratch. I was able to successfully extract his spark, which is in the container that Tracer is holding. Unfortunately, I’m having a difficult time removing his brain module, not to mention his T-cog, which I haven't even gotten to yet.”

Wheeljack paused a moment and retrieved the scanner he had used on the diversion expert earlier. “Here’s the scans I performed, showing the extent of the damage. His brain and T-cog are both intact, but there is some minor damage to the latter organ. I’m no medic, so I thought it was best to call in someone with expertise in the biological side of things.” The engineer then cast a concerned glance over at Tracer before returning his attention to the field medic. “Axle, I need your help here, but this must be kept a secret as no one knows that these two ever went down to the surface. I know it’s asking a lot, but we could all get into a slagload of trouble if Prowl or even Red Alert were to find out.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

A quick nod in Wheeljack’s direction indicated that Tracer was also satisfied with her choice of medic. According to Axle’s file he had been a doctor stationed on Babu Yar just after the skirmish with the Decepticons. He tried, as with the rest of his team, to help the Autobots who had been caught under the shower of Gideon’s Glue. As much as he wanted to remain behind the powers that be sent orders to evacuate the location.

Axle had refused to leave citing that as Autobot medics and doctors they had a duty to save as many mechs as possible. That act of insubordination, even if Axle had been right, gave reason to demote the doctor to the lower rank of field medic. His superiors stated, ‘If you’re so hell bent on saving the dead and dying, then perhaps the field is where you belong.’

There was no retaliation, instead Axle moved on quietly. The background information was interesting, especially for any medic.

Tracer was pulled out of her reverie as Wheeljack mentioned Red Alert and the Security Chief’s fine-tuned olfactory sensors. The scout gave the engineer a quizzical look not understanding what he meant about Red on some kind of scent. What is he talking about? She followed his optics as he looked over to Razr who was still sitting quietly in a corner. Tracer furrowed her brow as she looked back to Wheeljack who finally figured out what must have happened when she, Smokescreen and Razr moved through the Ark – 22. The femme quickly looked back down at her faithful turbofox and let out a low gasp.

Tracer had already moved to Razr’s side and knelt down, her hand petting his head gently. She’d have to let him go, but she had faith that he’d follow her directions implicitly.

“Razr, time to run interference. When the door opens head to the Guardian, but don’t go home. Run Red Alert around in circles. Don’t get caught.”

She gave him one last pat and a quick scratch behind his ear before standing up and heading over to Wheeljack. Satisfied that the Security Chief would be busy for the foreseeable future, Tracer waited for Axle to arrive. He’s taking his time. The femme paid little attention to the scientist’s inane banter to himself; instead she just stared at the lab’s door.

His unexpected outburst concerning Smokescreen’s newly chosen alt mode almost sent Tracer to the floor in surprise. She let out a low groan as she turned around to face him.

“Really, Wheeljack?! You cou…”

She was suddenly cut off by loud banging on the lab’s door. Again the femme nearly jumped out of her armor. Please, let this go as quickly as possible. I’m not sure how much more I can take. Tracer let out a heavy sigh when she heard the voice coming from the other side of the door. Finally. She moved closer to the lab’s exit and waited as Wheeljack opened the door letting Razr slip through between the scientist’s legs and then through Axle’s.

The field medic lifted one of his legs when he felt something brush past it. The small creature was too fast to actually see clearly, exactly what he was told to do. From the strange feeling Axle turned his attention back up to the engineer who waved and flashed his still attached arms. Axle flashed him a smile and moved into the lab. He couldn’t see anything other than the white mech poised in front of him. That is until Jack guided him to the work table where Smokescreen’s partially melted body lie.

The scene looked like something out of a human horror flick, only this one starred a Cybertronian. Axle tried to shake the shocked look off his face but it was almost impossible. He had seen disturbing wounds, even witnessed more than his fair share of killings, but this was…

Axle broke off his optics from the laid out mech and refocused on Wheeljack. The field medic had just opened his mouth to question the scientist on what he had done, but he was cut off with a declaration that he had nothing to do with Smokescreen’s current condition. The rest of the explanation, however, seemed too far-fetched, but he’d have to verify it after he finished his work.

He leaned to the side in order to see past Jack. He spotted the femme who had contacted him and who was the second accomplice in this tragic tale. Tracer met Axle’s optics but quickly averted her gaze to the bench the rallybot was laid out on. The medic brought his attention back to Wheeljack who was at that point explaining what he attempted to do. Axle nodded in understanding as he walked past the mechanical engineer and stopped at the head of the table where the brain module was hanging out of the cranium.

He squatted down and got in as close as he could nearly sticking his nose into the cavity. His eyes were focused on the brain and its inter-connecting wires along with the main line and its harness. He let out a contemplative sigh as he stuck his hand into the nearly void chamber and began rooting around. He was unable to see into the area due to the still connected brain along with his hand so he turned his head up and kept his optics locked on the ceiling.

“Tell me you weren’t going to sever these connections. Because had you, no matter how hard you tried, you would have killed him.”

There was a series of clicks as a small smirk formed on the field medic’s face.

“See, these lines encircling the cranium; they’re all vital connections that need to be released in order. Do it wrong…anyway, I just got the last one sooo…”

Carefully Axle removed his hand and gently took hold of the brain module and slowly began to pull. The organ slid out easily, all of its lines intact. Once it was clear of the cranium Axle cradled it in his left hand while he slipped his right hand back into the chamber. Gritting his teeth he grabbed hold of the main line and guided it out the rest of the way. He looked over to Tracer who had moved to the workbench.

“It’s Tracer, right? Listen Tracer I need one of those storage canisters on the bench next to you.”

The femme placed the canister holding Smokescreen’s spark down, grabbed one of the requested storage devices and quickly stepped to Axle’s side. The field medic carefully placed the brain within along with the slick energon soaked main line. Satisfied that the organ was now safe, Axle stood up and made his way around the table to Smokescreen’s right side. He leaned down and took a close look at the body.

“Yeah, I thought so. This frame design…the T-Cog is actually located in the back. Similar to one of the organs the humans refer to as a kidney. The two main lines, the one from the brain module and the one from the T-Cog run down the back just in front of the spinal column and connect to the spark chamber. It’s the same with Prowl and Bluestreak.”

After smoothing his hand down the side of the body Axle looked back up and cast his gaze over to Tracer.

“The same goes with you. Wheeljack, give me a hand turning the body.”

Wheeljack’s Lab

Wheeljack took a step back, allowing Axle to move past him and approach the head of the worktable. The field medic then squatted down to get a better look inside Smokescreen’s half-empty cranial unit, practically sticking his own head into the hollow cavity for a clear view. After a brief sigh, Axle reached his hand inside and began feeling around. The scientist could only surmise that his comrade was searching for the right connections to unhook, and he was right. However, it was what the medic said to him regarding disconnecting the wires out of order that produced a noticeable gasp from the mechanical engineer. Had ‘Jack gone ahead and severed those connections, Smokescreen would be dead right now.

“Ahhh....no....I wasn’t going to just cut them. I considered my options first and once I saw how complex it was in there I figured it would be better not to do anything and just call in a real expert on biology,” Wheeljack admitted as he then watched Axle remove the brain unit successfully and place it into a container that Tracer had retrieved for him. Once that was completed, the field medic walked around the worktable to Smokescreen’s right side where he examined the ruined body more closely. After commenting on the location of the diversion expert’s T-cog and the similar chassis design to both Bluestreak and Prowl, not to mention Tracer, herself, Axle moved his hand along the rallybot’s side and asked ‘Jack for help in turning the body over.

“Yeah, sure thing! No problem!” Wheeljack replied as his quickly moved around the table and stood beside the field medic. Placing both hands underneath the lower portion of Smokescreen’s battered form, the scientist had no problem lifting up the metal carcass and slowly turning it over. “You know, I'm really grateful for your assistance. I probably would've killed my friend if I had tried all this alone. Thank you, Axle."