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Ratchet knew he really screwed up. That they all really screwed up. This was a whole lot more complicated than he wanted to believe. When you tried to look at everything from a logical, every day standpoint, this situation just didn't make any sense. But when you took a step back and started to look at other possibilities, all of the pieces started to click together and it was terrifying.

After being rather suddenly and violently punched in the face by a mech whom by all standards shouldn't even be online he knew he was missing something. After Optimus, Wheeljack, and Ironhide had helped him wrestle the mech back down and forcibly sedate him Ratchet decided he really needed to think. Rethink. Everything.

He started with the beginning. Sideswipe had said they came through what looked like a space bridge. The Decepticons had been quiet, which is not what would have happened if the Autobots had intercepted something of the con's doing. There were no demands for exchange of the two newcomers or any attacks on the base. Further investigation of the video feeds Sideswipe had been able to take before the two came crashing through revealed that the portal of sorts definitely did not look like anything the Decepticons had cooked up before.

Then there was the difference in his specs compared to the mech and the femme's. The differences were too large to ignore. Their armor was thicker, stronger, and their structures were sturdier, more battle-ready than his. It had taken 3 soldiers to hold down the mech before he could sedate him. If it took 3 mechs, one of them a Prime and another a battle-hardened warrior to hold down an injured medic, he didn't want to see what a warrior of their class was capable of. Furthermore, injuries that should have permanently maimed soldiers he knew, these two were recovering from, and recovering fast at that. The mech, Redalert, was almost completely functional and was working diligently to get the femme up to par as well.

The final piece that didn't fit was the stories Redalert kept relaying. He seemed like a competent mech. Somewhere deep inside, Ratchet liked to believe that anyone who perused a field in medicine was a stable being. Redalert had by all medical terms proved that. He was very obviously a great medic with how far he was getting with the femme so quickly. He was the epitome of logical while working the surgeon's knife and was quick, clean, and professional. But when he wasn't in the roll of the doctor and was continuously asked about where he had come from and about his background, he had replied with answers that just didn't make any fragging sense. He would go on about how he and the femme had been fighting side by side in an epic battle to save Cybertron from an outside menace and that Autobots and Decepticons had put their differences aside and started working together to save their home planet. It broke Ratchets spark to see someone whom was evidently knowledgeable believe in something so outlandish with every fiber of their being. Ultimately it began to shift Ratchet's perspective on what was going on.

Separately, all of the evidence was fragmented and preposterous, but when you put all three together the theories that came out of it where clear, concise, and horrifying. Such they were still just as outlandish, but they were starting to make sense. Wheeljack and Preceptor had began to catch on and theorize as well and came up with conclusions that were eerily similar to his. These transformers weren't from here. Not by a long shot.

Ratchet torn himself away from his musings and focused on the mech in front of him once more. Redalert was diligently working inside the femme's chasis and was close to completing all of the necessary repairs. He had kept the femme in stasis under heavy sedatives to keep her from onlining and undoing repairs in the process. "How much longer do you think?" He addressed the other medic.

"Not long now. Within the hour."

Ratchet nodded. Once the femme was online, maybe she could be able to make sense of Redalert's stories or relay information that didn't make him guess the very foundations of the universe. "Good. That's good." He paused. "Do you know the schematics of her armor? I could start some molds for you."

Redalert visibly stiffened. "No. No I don't."

"Oh." Ratchet mused. "I thought you would as her medic."

Redalert vented and frowned slightly. "She's… not one of my regular charges."

Ratchet's curiosity was peaked. "How so? Is she part of another unit?"

Redalert paused in his repairs before he straightened to look at Ratchet. His face was the exact picture of pure gravity. "You know how I told you that we were all working together in the battle?"

"Yes." Ratchet nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back slightly.

Redalert paused and tried to choose his next words as carefully as he could. He had avoided this subject so far because he knew it was only going to generate more uncertainty from those around him. "Scaleblade," he continued, "… is not an Autobot."

Ratchet nodded and hung on the edge of Redalert's as if waiting for more. When he didn't receive any more of an explanation the other's words started to sink in. Ratchet's optics shot from the femme on the medical berth to Redalert's visor. "Do you mean to tell me… that that femme is… a Decepticon?" He asked in a serious, yet unbelieving manner.

Redalert caught the condescending tone of Ratchet's voice and fixed him with a hard look. "Yes. And a damn good one at that." He held Ratchet's gaze for a few more moments before returning to his work on his patient.

Ratchet vented air and uncrossed his arms. This was ridiculous. "Redalert. Decepticons don't recruit femmes. They kill them. There is no way that-"

"Scaleblade: identification code 0091-763108-99867-001. Close combat specialist under the directive of the Decepticon high command, Melee Officer. Originally 6th in command by position, recently bumped up to 5th after the demise of their communications officer," Redalert rattled off as he continued to work. "Frankly I don't give a frag what Decepticons here do or don't do. Where I'm from they don't discriminate. And this femme is a deadly fighter. Underestimate that and it will get you killed." Redalert paused. "Again." He quietly muttered after the fact.

Ratchet narrowed his optics in a glare. "Excuse me?"

Redalert stopped his work again to direct Ratchet straightforwardly. "I said again." Redalert began to work and talk at the same time once more. "The team I work with had a Ratchet once. He was a great medic- probably the greatest Cybertron knew." Redalert looked up at Ratchet once more. "I'm his replacement."

Ratchet's face softened slightly, staring back at the mech in front of him. His energon lines felt oddly cold at digesting Redalert's words. It was clear by his tone and body language that he had seen and experienced trauma. At the same time though, this was war, there wasn't a single one of them onboard the Ark that hadn't been affected seriously in some form or another by the carnage. But there was something very different about hearing of your own demise, or at least the demise of a being someone believed you shared a name with.

Ratchet was silent for a while before choosing to speak more, his voice low. "How?" Redalert didn't need an explanation of the question.

"It was an accident," He stated, still focusing on the repairs of the femme in front of him. "He ran in to aid a fallen soldier and spooked a Decepticon." Redalert cycles a few vents before continuing. "Medics are off-limits on the battlefield no matter the faction, one of the rare honors of war that we've all still been upholding. The con tried to salvage the situation and save him, but it didn't work. Not all of us are medics after all." Redalerts voice trailed off at the end, vocals laced heavily with tired emotion. He continued to work in silence as Ratchet digested his words.

Ratchet looked to the side and stared somewhat blankly at nothing in particular, deep in thought. "We have a similar code here, though it's not always upheld." He paused. "As of late a lot of medics have been targeted as hostages and whatnot. Fieldwork has been getting more and more dangerous."

Redalert made a non-committal noise of acknowledgment before continuing. "I can't say I've seen that happen. Thankfully," he added. Ratchet smirked slightly before inhaling sharply, looking upward at the ceiling before focusing on Redalert once more.

"So can I ask who did it?"

In response Redalert casually motioned toward the femme under his knife.

TBC