With the battle at a close, the Autobots collected their injured and wearily made their way back to the Ark. Prime transformed and carried Mirage and Sideswipe back into the base in his trailer, along with Sunstreaker, who refused to let his brother out of his sight for a second. Snarl gathered his broken spines in his hands and trudged back up the mountainside, along with Swoop who also transformed back into robot mode and nursed his broken wing. Jazz helped Huffer to steady himself as he stood up.
At the bottom of the Ark causeway, Hoist attached his tow line and lifted Sideswipe's twisted back end up into the air then pulled him from Prime's trailer into the medical bay. Grapple looked into Mirage's dark optics and carried the limp Autobot under his knees and back. Prowl shadowed Prime, who transformed into robot mode and followed the injured Autobots to the medical bay. Wheeljack and Ratchet were waiting there for them.
Bumblebee was already there in medical bay, sick with sadness, as he hovered over one of the repair tables. Ratchet stood behind the minibot, patting him on the back and consoling him. Wheeljack had been unable to get a word in edgewise.
Optimus Prime came up silently behind the chief medical officer and the minibot and observed Spike's lifeless body lying on the repair table. Prime's joints slackened. "Spike…" The Autobots had failed to protect their human friend. "I'm so sorry."
Prowl looked upon Spike's body with shock. With stunned silence, Grapple laid Mirage down on the next repair table. Hoist backed Sideswipe in to an open section of the medical bay and unhitched himself from the damaged Lamborghini. Leaking hydraulic fluid trailed Sideswipe from Prime's trailer and began to slowly collect in a puddle underneath the Lamborghini's broken back end.
Sunstreaker looked down at Spike's body as he passed by the repair table toward the red warrior. "Ouch," he voiced nonchalantly.
Bumblebee spread his arms to steady himself against the repair table and lowered his head between his shoulders.
Ratchet stepped back to let Prime in closer. The Autobot leader looked to Ratchet and Wheeljack for an explanation of the events.
"Prime," Ratchet offered, lowering his head with guilt. "It was my fault. I was supposed to be with Bumblebee defending the entrance and I left my post to tend to Huffer." Bumblebee raised his head and, mouth agape with grief, listened to the chief medical officer. "Ravage was able to get to Spike because I wasn't there."
"Ratchet, you can't take all the blame," Bumblebee interjected. "I wasn't able to stop Rumble and Frenzy, either."
"It was three on one, Bumblebee," Ratchet argued in Bumblebee's defense.
"All of us failed," Optimus Prime whispered.
The medical bay fell silent.
Wheeljack cleared his vocalizer. "Prime, I haven't told you the good news yet." He stepped forward and extended a hand to reveal the Spark Cell.
A red telltale light glowed on the device. Prime regarded the mind transfer helmet still around Spike's head. He followed the wiring back to the equipment and monitoring station that Wheeljack had been seated at when he entered the medical bay. The Autobot leader's optics grew wide in amazement and disbelief, realizing what had happened.
"I used the mind transfer device to convert Spike's awareness into a spark, which I've got in the Spark Cell" the engineer continued. Everyone turned to look at him with surprise. "Spike has a second chance now."
Bumblebee made a gasping sound with his vocalizer. "What?" He looked down at the body then straightened, hope returning to his optics.
Ratchet nodded to Bumblebee in agreement.
"I can build a new body for him…" Wheeljack explained to Optimus Prime. "…and download him into it, and he can have a new life."
But Bumblebee recalled how the temporary mind transfer that Spike had gone through several years ago had caused him to go mad in a robot body. "What if it doesn't work?"
Wheeljack faced Bumblebee solemnly. "We can take precautions, Bumblebee. But the way things stand, Spike has only one other alternative to this and it's not good."
The Autobot leader cupped his battle mask in one hand and lowered his optics, thinking. "Wheeljack, I'd like to talk to you…alone."
"Sure," Wheeljack agreed.
Prime then acknowledged the chief medical officer. "Ratchet, take Spike's body to the nearest hospital so that the humans can pay their respects. Prowl will accompany you. This must be dealt with now. I will contact Sparkplug myself."
"Wheeljack, can you give me a hand?" Ratchet requested, then transformed and opened his rear door.
Wheeljack slipped the mind transfer helmet out from underneath Spike's head and carefully lifted his body. Spike's body was very loose now and didn't resist the forces applied to it. Wheeljack laid him down inside of Ratchet and strapped him in securely for the ride back to human civilization. As a last gesture, he turned Spike's head to the side as if he were only resting. Stooped over with his hand on the top of Ratchet's raised hatch door, he paused to silently say goodbye. Then he pressed the door firmly closed and stood up.
Prowl transformed into his police car mode and started his engine.
"I'm going with you, too." Bumblebee piped in and transformed into his Volkswagen Bug form.
Prime took a step backward and allowed the three Autobots to leave.
Sunstreaker looked about the room, dismayed that the only doctor had just left. "What about Sideswipe?"
"I'm sure Ratchet won't be gone too long, and Hoist and Grapple can get started in the meantime," Prime explained. "Wheeljack will be back soon and will also tend to the wounded." The Autobot commander looked down at Wheeljack and motioned toward the door. Wheeljack led the way from the medical bay.
Once the bay doors closed behind them, Prime clasped his hands behind his back and slowly led them down a less traveled passageway for privacy. He narrowed his optic ridges, focusing with concern.
"Wheeljack," he said and eventually stopped and faced the engineer. "I'm concerned about your actions today. I'm worried that you didn't have Spike's best interests in mind."
Wheeljack was shocked. "What do you mean?"
"You used your Spark Cell invention to further your own personal agenda."
Stunned by Prime's accusation, Wheeljack chuckled mirthlessly. "I saved Spike, Prime," he explained, pressing his hand against his chest to legitimize himself.
"We don't know what has become of Spike now."
Wheeljack pulled himself together defensively. "All I did was focus his life force into a spark, like we did several years ago to save his life, and transfer it into the Spark Cell for safe keeping until a new body can be built. He would be dead otherwise."
Prime shook his head, ruefully.
"There was nothing else we could do," Wheeljack explained in his own defense. "Spike died because of his injuries, not because of me. I certainly didn't speed anything up – ask Ratchet if you don't believe me."
Prime placed his hands on his hip plates and stared off down the corridor. An uncomfortable minute passed before the tall Autobot leader gazed back down at the engineer again. "This is a difficult situation."
"What's wrong Prime? Spike's safe in my Spark Cell."
"We don't know what is in your Spark Cell."
It was true that he had not tested the Spark Cell before using it. He believed in his own abilities, but unfortunately Prime and Prowl did not believe without proof. Wheeljack looked down, seeing Prime's point.
After a moment he looked back up at the towering Autobot leader in front of him and made one last attempt to clear himself. "Prime, given the circumstances, allow me to build a body. I'll transfer the spark into it, and we can see for ourselves whether or not I was able to save Spike. And if I'm wrong…?" Wheeljack looked away. "Well, then Spike's in no worse state." He shook his head in dismay. After having come up with a ground-breaking invention and then realizing it could be used to save Spike's life, Prime was suggesting he was acting below Autobot standards. He surrendered to the futility of his predicament and accepted Prime's judgment.
Prime regarded Wheeljack's response. He was concerned that there was indeed a worse state that Spike could be in as a robot. Everyone knew that Spike had gone mad in the body of Autobot X and, in a worst case scenario if he went mad again, they could lose him to the Decepticons. If Spike had survived the process and did exist in the Spark Cell, it was not fair to let him linger forever, forgotten, in a shelved invention.
Prime would have to tell Sparkplug that Spike had passed away, but that there may be a slim hope that Wheeljack's device had worked. It would be a difficult conversation. He could not guarantee the outcome of the spark download. After considering the alternatives, there was one reasonable course of action to take.
"You may build a body, Wheeljack," the Autobot leader responded, "but you are not to equip it with any weapons or firepower. If Spike survived, we don't want him to initiate a fire fight that would put him at risk of being fired at by others out of self-defense."
Wheeljack could read between the lines. Although Prime was not saying it, he did not want to encounter any trouble in shutting down a rogue Autobot if the spark download did not work. "Thank you, Prime. I appreciate your concern. I'll make the best out of this that I can."
Prime focused his attention sternly on the engineer. "I want to be updated regularly on your progress, and to be involved in any critical decision making. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Prime."
"That's an order, Wheeljack."
Prime turned and walked away. After a moment, Wheeljack headed back to the medical bay to assist with repairs as Optimus Prime had also ordered him to do. The lineup of Autobots waiting for repairs had grown. Grapple had Swoop's wing in the jaws of the three point bending press and was massaging out the kinks and Hoist was sealing up Huffer's ruptured chest plate. They both looked up as Wheeljack returned.
"Phew," the engineer sighed through his vocalizer as he reached one arm casually behind his head. "Glad that's over."
Sunstreaker had pulled up a chair next to his brother and leaned on his elbows, visibly concerned. At the sight of Wheeljack he instantly sat up and rolled his optics. "At least someone's back who knows how to do something!" Grapple and Hoist looked at each other, not amused by the rude comment, but shrugged it off.
Wheeljack approached the bench where he had left the Spark Cell and adjusted its position. He did not want to cause any more concern for Prime. Admittedly, there was a better chance of some catastrophe occurring in his workshop than in the medical bay, so he would ask Ratchet to look after the Spark Cell until he needed it for the download. He drummed his fingers on top of the table, recounting the recent events.
"Hey, can we get some attention over here?!" Sunstreaker called in a surly tone. "Sides is hurt bad!"
Wheeljack looked up out of deep reflection. "Yeah." He went over to Hoist and put his hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "When you've got a moment later, can you bring Spike's car down to my workshop?"
"Why do you want his car there?" the green maintenance Autobot inquired politely.
Wheeljack shook his head once and relaxed his frame. "Now's not a good time to get into a detailed explanation. There's some work I need to do on it."
Hoist was surprised, but acquiesced. "Whatever I can do to assist."
Not impressed by the continued medical bay wait, Sunstreaker stood up. In a big motion using both arms to catch Wheeljack's attention, he pointed to his brother still stuck as a Lamborghini on the floor. "Here?!" he commanded Wheeljack with a big frown.
"Yeah, yeah," the engineer trudged over to Sideswipe. "It's been a bad day for me, too." He stood in front of the red Lamborghini with both fists firmly on his hip plates. "Back end doesn't look good. Sideswipe, can you transform?"
"If I could, I would have by now," the red warrior replied impatiently. "Do you think I'm enjoying being stuck like this?"
"He's leaking hydraulic fluid everywhere," Sunstreaker added.
"I can see that. First, we're going to have to cut your back end in half up the middle to free your legs."
"Is that going to hurt him?" the yellow warrior inquired with wide optics.
"Don't worry," Wheeljack consoled. "It's going to get better, not worse."
Sunstreaker noticeably relaxed. Wheeljack took out a cutting torch and proceeded to flame cut a swath along the top and bottom lengths of the twisted back end of the red Lamborghini. An ugly burned scar laced the inside edges of Sideswipe's legs as he pried them apart.
"It's not pretty, but it works. We can always rebuild your legs later." Wheeljack explained as he turned off the cutting torch. "Now, can you transform?"
Sideswipe groaned, trying to lift himself off the floor. His squashed legs clunked and ground as parts inside resisted movement, but they managed to complete the process, however his upper half got stuck half way. He lowered himself back down on the floor, transforming his upper half fully back into vehicle mode. "Nope."
Wheeljack stood back, crossed his arms and massaged his mask as he thought about the possible causes of the malfunction. The yellow warrior straightened in his chair, horrified that Wheeljack apparently seemed not to know what to do.
"That's not what Ratchet would do in a situation like this," Sunstreaker chided. The chief medical officer certainly had that Autobot touch that made a 'bot feel like he was in good hands.
Wheeljack dropped his arms as he addressed the yellow warrior. "Slaggit, Sunny, I'm not Ratchet. I'm an engineer, not a doctor." He placed his hand on one hip plate and drew the upper cam and linkage configuration in the air in front of him with his finger. "Oh, I know!"
Wheeljack knelt down next to Sideswipe and unfastened the vehicle interior compartment. He pried it back a crack at the edge nearest the hood and slid his hand beneath it, lifting the compartment away so that he could get a good look at the cam shaft assembly connecting to the transformation linkages running throughout Sideswipe's torso. "Aha! Just what I thought!"
"What is it?" the red warrior asked, sounding worried.
Wheeljack reached his other hand into Sideswipe's chassis and pulled out a dripping clot of grey material and hung it in the air for Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to see. "Cylinder packing got blown up into one of your cam prox switches and was telling it there was nowhere for the main torso linkage to go."
Sunstreaker shook his head, not comprehending the technical explanation.
Wheeljack replaced the vehicle interior compartment and fastened it back down. He stood up and backed away from Sideswipe. "Now try transforming."
The red warrior surprised himself with the ease with which he could suddenly return to his robot form. He pushed himself up off the floor with both hands and regarded the oily slick underneath him. "It's been worse," Sideswipe shrugged it off.
Sideswipe stood upright and steadied himself on his mangled legs. As he heaved his weight up, more hydraulic fluid leaked heavily from the tears in the metal, leaving the red warrior standing in a large slick. He pushed the tips of his feet hard into the floor and leaned back instinctively to balance himself. Looking down at the backs of his legs he saw the red metal pushed out from the back end of his vehicle form. The bulged metal beneath him created uneven footing, which was causing his legs below the knee joints to naturally lean forward.
The red warrior steadied himself with one hand holding onto the edge of a nearby repair table and exercised a leg. Metal groaned against metal and his knee joints clanked stiffly. "Yup, it's been worse," he confirmed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Wheeljack warned.
Sideswipe continued to test his legs until one suddenly collapsed under his weight. A huge quantity of hydraulic fluid gushed out from near the top of his knee joint with a sickening burble. With both hands he tried to hold himself up on the edge of the table, but hydraulic fluid in the other leg's cylinder slowly lost pressure as it bled out through the rupture in the side of his red leg and he shrank. Sunstreaker groaned at the sight of his brother's hydraulic fluid emptying out onto the floor of the medical bay in a huge mess.
"Well there goes the last of your hydraulic fluid," Wheeljack winced.
Shortened by the second sagging piston and standing in the middle of a large, slippery puddle, Sideswipe began to lose his already shaky balance. With the last remaining pressure removed, the cylinder pistons locked in position from the resulting suction and the red warrior fell over, face first in his own hydraulic puddle.
"How humiliating," was all Sideswipe could manage to say, oil covering his faceplate.
"You know, Sides," Sunstreaker started, marveling at his nearly spotless glossy yellow finish, "I really want to help you right now, but that's just too messy for me. I've already got an interior that needs cleaning up."
"Thanks a lot, slagger," the red twin replied gruffly and dropped his head.
Wheeljack shot Sunstreaker an intense stare. Looking hard, he noticed what appeared to be blood on the yellow Lamborghini's leather interior. Wheeljack locked optics with the yellow warrior, who responded with a rare moment of surprise.
"Hoist!" Wheeljack called, finally looking away. "Can you help me get Sideswipe up onto one of these tables?"
"Oh, what an awful mess," Hoist stated distastefully at the sight of the large, glistening oil puddle slowly edging its way in all directions across the floor. "We had better get that cleaned up right away."
"Let's get him on the table first." Wheeljack straddled the oil slick and grabbed Sideswipe under his shoulders.
Hoist picked up Sideswipe's feet and the two Autobots lifted him together. With a heave, they turned him right side up as they laid him on the repair table. Afterward, Hoist took out the medical bay vacuum and cleaned up all of the leaked hydraulic fluid on the floor before wiping up the remaining residue with a pile of oil absorbent cloth squares that Ratchet always kept on hand. An oily mess coated the entire front side of the red warrior's body, streaking into little rivers that dripped onto the floor below. Wheeljack took a clean cloth square and wiped the oil off of Sideswipe's faceplate and optics.
Wheeljack relaxed his frame. What a day it had been, he reflected. He regarded Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, knowing it was just as important to console one brother as it was to console the other. "On the bright side, Sideswipe, I'd say you would have needed a complete flushing of your hydraulic system anyway after all the metal debris from that much damage ended up in it." He bent down and dipped his finger in some of the hydraulic fluid still on the floor. He held it up to the light near Sideswipe's optics to show him the glittery metallic flakes in the oil. "Don't worry, Ratch' will fix you up good."
"Aren't you staying to fix me up?" Sideswipe asked worriedly.
"You need Hoist here to clean you up first, otherwise all that hydraulic fluid's gonna make one heck of a mess inside you once you get opened up for repair work."
Sideswipe settled himself on the repair table, realizing he was going to be out of commission for a while. "Sunny, why don't you go get some energon or something? I'm not going anywhere."
The yellow warrior grumbled and then reluctantly got up.
Wheeljack turned away from Sideswipe and stared over at Mirage. Hoist looked up from his cleaning and observed that Wheeljack appeared miles away in thought about something else. He expected it was Spike. The maintenance Autobot knew there was nothing more that they could do about it for the time being so he returned to mopping up the oil laden cloths.
"I got to go give our buddy Mirage a hand." Wheeljack opened up Ratchet's tool and instrument cabinets and began searching. The chief medical officer was extremely well organized. Everything was pristinely clean and arranged in its proper place. He glanced back at the off line blue and white Autobot, deciding which tools he should try first. An enmeter, a meggar set and some probes would do.
He set the tools down on the instrument table next to Mirage and pulled up a diagnostics console. The Autobot's head was turned to the side, optics dark and mouth hanging open. He carefully turned Mirage's head to face forward and look toward the ceiling, then closed the Autobot's mouth. The original shape of the white vehicle nose portion of his chest plate assembly was crushed beyond recognition. Luckily for Mirage, the front end of his vehicle form was designed as a crumple zone and it cushioned the rest of his torso frame from a significant amount of the impact energy that would have caused more considerable damage.
He glanced over at the Spark Cell work station he set up as Wheeljack realized he needed some of his own tools to remove the crushed chest plate assembly. Ratchet would definitely complain if he knew that Wheeljack was mixing up their tools. As he gathered his tool set from the work station, he paused to look down at the loaded Spark Cell, its light still glowing a steady red. Wheeljack was confident that Spike had been saved, but had the tired sinking feeling that the road ahead for him was not going to be easy.
Returning to Mirage, he pulled up a seat and began to sweep the enmeter over Mirage's core function zones to detect any irregularities in energon flow. The device readout appeared normal, meaning that all his fuel lines and his energon distribution system were functioning normally. He disconnected the crushed portion of Mirage's chest plate and set it out of the way underneath the repair table, since the Autobot would need a new piece constructed. With his chassis exposed, Wheeljack observed a noticeable bend at Mirage's midsection. He removed the housing covers and observed a large crack in Mirage's central column.
As he leaned forward to inspect the condition of the energon conduit couplings at either end of the column, a tall orange figure approached out of his periphery and caught his attention.
"You okay?" Grapple asked gently.
Wheeljack began connecting the probes to Mirage so that his systems would appear on the diagnostics screen. "Yeah," the engineer replied quietly.
"You know, I know how it feels to have your work go unrecognized." The large architect turned and, clenching his fist, gazed off into the distance. "All that work and someone comes along to ruin it! It's depressing!"
Wheeljack leaned back, crossing his arms. "I'm not depressed, but I am bothered about what happened to Spike."
"Well, I think your Spark Cell is impressive" the architect proudly commended without acknowledging Wheeljack's response, "and you did the best you could to help Spike. Everyone knows that neither you nor Ratchet could have helped him any other way. He's a, er, was a human being after all."
"I don't think you understand," the engineer tried to explain to the architect. "I didn't set out to transfer Spike's life force to the Spark Cell."
"Of course you didn't," Grapple replied, almost smiling as he leaned across Mirage to whisper to Wheeljack. "You don't have to worry. Your secret is safe with me." The architect grinned and nodded to the stunned engineer before returning to assisting with repairs to the other waiting Autobots.
"Oh great." Wheeljack sunk back in his seat, wondering what sort of reputation he would get as word spread throughout the Ark about what had become of Spike. He wondered if anyone would believe him that he was only trying to save him. At that point, though, there was not much he could do to stop the spread of rumors. He looked down at the bundle of probes still in his hand and realized he had to get back to Mirage.
On the monitor, Wheeljack meticulously scanned the readout from the probes. He spent a good length of time making sense of the conflicting data being communicated between Mirage's systems. Wheeljack wished that Ratchet would return and take over the medical bay from him. Some of the injuries he was trying to repair required the chief medical officer's finesse and specialized skills to diagnose and remedy. He took a moment to check his internal chronometer. Ratchet had been gone for more than three hours.
He tried meggaring the cables leading through the central column to test if one or more of the lines were dead. Mirage was very lucky that his conduit casing had not cracked all the way through and that the connective components in the column remained protected and fully functional. The slight Autobot had taken quite a blow.
Wheeljack leaned over the repair table and stared at Mirage's open circuitry with his head in his hands. He was convinced that Mirage was offline because of a telemetry problem, but he did not know where it might be. Time passed as he puzzled about how to get Mirage online and at least somewhat functioning again. Eventually, he picked up a pair of voltage needles and tried testing Mirage's communication system failsafe disconnects. The voltage read null. The reading surprised him. He tried the disconnect circuitry from another communicator module. Again, null. A third one in the communication network yielded the same result.
Wheeljack removed the housing from Mirage's data synchronizer and checked the condition of the internal circuitry. Everything appeared in good condition, but then he noticed the burned fuses, indicating an over-voltage trip had occurred in his telemetry transmitting circuitry.
"Ha!" he cried with relief. "A cascading trip in his communication failsafe disconnects!"
The other Autobots in the repair bay all looked at Wheeljack with expressions of stunned confusion as if the engineer had just spoken in an incomprehensible language.
The engineer continued to speak excitedly to himself. "Well then, it's easy! All I have to do is reset the switches and replace a few fuses and we should have him online again!"
He set about adjusting and fixing the telemetry hardware and the blue and white Autobot's optics flickered to life once again.
"Hey Mirage!" Wheeljack exclaimed, joyed to see the Autobot coming to his senses.
Mirage flinched and looked about the medical bay, not knowing how or why he was suddenly finding himself there. "W-what happened?" He fixed his gaze on Wheeljack who was perched on his seat to his left. "Last thing I remember, Thundercracker was right on top of me."
"Then you must have taken a nasty whack from him," Wheeljack explained, and reached down to pick up Mirage's crumpled vehicle nose. He raised it to show it to the injured Autobot. "At least this crumpled and protected you somewhat."
Mirage appeared to be taking his injuries well. "What kind of condition am I in?"
"If I were you I wouldn't be planning on moving about too much until Ratchet can see to you." Wheeljack heard a gentle clanking of Autobot feet approached the medical bay doors. "Your central column's bent and cracked and the upper section of your slip ring assembly looks like it isn't connected very tightly. You don't want to risk getting up and pulling yourself apart like a corkscrew."
A horrified expression crossed Mirage's faceplate. He was not used to receiving such a graphical explanation of his injuries. "Where's Ratchet?"
At that moment the bay doors hissed open and a murmur rose in the medical bay as everyone was clearly relieved to see that the doctor had returned.
"Thank goodness you're back!" Wheeljack exclaimed. Ratchet's expression was very solemn and his hands were balled into loose fists. "Ratch'…?" he tried again. But Ratchet walked past him as if he was not there towards a seat and set himself down in it. "How'd it go?"
Ratchet's frame sunk. He pressed his weight into the back of the chair, tipping the front legs off the floor, and balanced himself with one foot against the vacant repair table in front of him, staring at the floor all the while. The chief medical officer was not in a friendly mood.
Wheeljack excused himself from Mirage, and walked over to face his red and white friend. "Ratch'?"
"I hate that part of my job." Ratchet lowered his head so that the charcoal grey chevron on his forehead made his optics appear more stern.
"What happened?" Wheeljack quietly asked.
Ratchet was not quick to answer. He let a moment pass to emphasize that he was really not in the mood to talk, then grumbled incomprehensibly. "Sparkplug isn't taking it well."
Wheeljack straightened. It must have been quite some conversation for it to throw Ratchet into such a funk.
The medic continued flatly. "Prime and Bumblebee are still there trying to sort everything out. Since our own wounded needed taking care of I came back with Prowl."
Wheeljack turned around and leaned back against the side of a repair table. So, Wheeljack pondered, Prime had left the Ark after talking to him and had met up with the others. He wondered about what Ratchet had said about Sparkplug. "Did they tell Sparkplug the part about the Spark Cell?"
Ratchet contorted his expression and rocked himself in the chair with his foot. "He's pretty upset right now. I can't say I blame him, either."
"Upset about what part?" Wheeljack pried.
Ratchet stopped his rocking and looked up at Wheeljack, answering him directly. "Spike's dead. Wheeljack, you and I do what we do, but human beings react differently to these things than we do. For some reason he just doesn't believe that Spike could be saved by your device."
Wheeljack sputtered in disbelief. "What? Why would he think that? That doesn't make any sense. He was there when we did the mind transfer before."
"I know," Ratchet calmly responded, slowly rocking again. "It's like there's something else going on, but I don't know what. That's just the way it is."
Wheeljack interlocked his fingers behind his head. "Well…" He had his orders from Prime and wanted more than ever now to build a body and download that spark in the Spark Cell into it. It might be the only way to clear up any doubts about Spike's survival beyond the terrible events that none of them could have helped. "I think I need a break. Will you keep the Spark Cell safe until I ask for it? It's over there on the work station."
Ratchet nodded, knowing that Wheeljack intended to design and build a body for Spike, to get him online as soon as possible and end the uncertainty. He knew that it may end up being a new chance for life for Spike, but that it created confusion for Sparkplug about the state of his son.
Wheeljack pushed himself off the edge of the table, gathered his tools and equipment, and wearily left the medical bay to power down for a while in the refuge of his workshop quarters, leaving Ratchet to take care of the wounded Autobots.