AN: Who ordered the next chapter of GBDS! *sees the angry hordes of readers over her shoulders and their guns primed* If it's any consolation, this is one of (if not the) longest chapter I've written yet! *throws chapter at the angry horde and bolts*

Chapter 9:

Birds of a Feather Flock Together Part 3

Skyfire stepped into the relatively small and cramped Security Hub. To any other mech on the Ark, this room was a normal sized (if somewhat cluttered) office with a very high ceiling and two entire walls dedicated to nothing but screens upon screens of the various activities of the Ark.

The Monitor Room (as it was dubbed by the mass population of the Ark) was pentagonal in shape, with the door located directly opposite the two monitor walls. The entire room was a warm brownish-gold color, tinted blue from the numerous video feeds. Datapads were stacked almost haphazardly against the far wall, though the filing archives hidden behind sliding panels in the walls should have had ample space to hold them all. Underneath the monitors, a console spanned the entire length of the two walls, covered in knobs, buttons, sliders, and a half-finished energon cube. Four chairs sat in front of the massive walls of monitors, ideally so that four pairs of optics could keep watch over the entire Ark.

Not that Red Alert ever really needed another three sets to help him.

"Hello, Skyfire," Red Alert said flatly, his optics not leaving the monitors. He sounded bored and looked it too, judging from the way his elbows were leaning on the console. He picked up the energon cube and sipped it without looking at what his hands were doing.

"Hello," Skyfire replied, looking down. "Sorry to bother you, but Perceptor–"

"Sent you up here to pick up the new roster because your duties have been changed around but Perceptor couldn't tell you exactly what the changes were only that they involved coming to me directly to pick them up." Red Alert said, almost automatically. His optics roved from one end of the screen wall to the other. "That is what Perceptor said, correct?"

"How did–?" Skyfire began, surprised.

"You should talk to Spike and Carly more often." He said, typing quick commands into Teletraan to monitor for any noticeably and unnoticeably suspicious behavior. "They are full of random, but sometimes useful information. They taught me about a human trick called 'lip-reading.' Apparently, since the human mouth makes distinct shapes when speaking words, memorizing those shapes can reveal what someone is saying even if one cannot hear. Since we have adopted the humans' languages, it has proven useful on those of us with mouths. And since audio can't always be captured, well…" Red Alert spun his chair around. His legs were crossed at the knee and his fingers were loosely intertwined. Skyfire couldn't help imagining the air of smug superiority that accompanied Red Alert's posture. "Let's say I've been practicing."

"On Perceptor." Skyfire deadpanned.

Red Alert frowned and gave Skyfire an exasperated look. "He's the only one on the screens who actually uses words no one else recognizes without consulting a human dictionary. It helps me recognize longer, obscure words."

"Okay…" Skyfire said. "If you say so."

"I do say so." Red Alert replied, still frowning. "Now, he said you needed a schedule." Red Alert spun around and fiddled with a few controls on the panel in front of him. "Hold on."

As Red Alert typed away, Skyfire turned his attention to the security feeds.

It had been a rather slow day for him. His research into new energy conversions for energon just barely kept his attention focused for more than a breem or two. Strict chemo-physics had never been his favorite subject. It would be much more interesting to study the natural life on this planet and discover just how life could form with such flimsy materials. Sure, carbon could be extremely soft or hard depending upon its structure, but this planet's life seemed to be made of nothing but the stuff! It was mind-boggling to see it in such abundance and with lasting effects!

But no. He was stuck in the middle of a war that had happened overnight and all that was important was making sure everyone had enough to eat, only studying humans and their strange planet through the few glimpses he got of them. The Decepticons made it doubly difficult to study anything what with their almost bi-weekly attacks on the humans' energy resources.

The Decepticons obviously weren't attacking now, not with the fiasco of the other day. Starsc– They would have one hell of a time attempting to organize themselves without any clear command structure nor any commanding officers. Hopefully, they would attempt a coup and destroy themselves. Not to mention, what would be the fate of the three femmes? The Ark was still abuzz with rumors, explanations, and other what-not that Skyfire never really cared much about. Still, listening to the rumor mills had kept his mind occupied and informed.

His optics drifted lazily from one monitor to the next, keeping him distracted from the three screens everyone wanted to see most.

According the monitors (which missed nothing), Prime was in the Medbay, trying and failing to not wince as Ratchet grabbed his jaw tightly, blue lights from a welder dancing across the walls. Ratchet, judging by how fast his mouth was moving, was cursing/lecturing Optimus on proper prisoner protocol. He smiled slightly at all the jovial faces in the Rec Room and how the resident engineer seemed to notice he was being watched by a close friend and waved at the security camera above the desk in his lab before heading out. On another monitor, the Twins ran down a hallway on the fourth level, a multicolored Tracks on their heels.

Oh, and for the record, Prowl looks horrible in lime green.

The SIC wasn't too far behind the Twins and Tracks and he looked even angrier than Megatron on a bad day. And speaking of Megatron and bad days…

His optics inadvertently drifted to a monitor almost smack dab in the middle of the massive walls of screens. Megatron sat in the middle of the back wall (indicating that the camera was over the door) and the perpetual scowl never wavered as she spoke angrily to someone below the camera's view. Her movements were awkward as she crossed her arms over her protruding chest, bumping into it on more than one occasion and the heat waves around her face gave away her embarrassment. Even though he couldn't hear what the mech below the camera was saying, (though Red Alert was too paranoid to not have the entire heavy detention cell wired so that not even a speck of dust landed without his knowledge), it gave Skyfire just a little satisfaction to see her brought low.

Skyfire stopped suddenly when his gaze shifted one monitor over.

Starscream was shouting at someone below the camera and Skyfire was pretty sure that hand gesture was banned on several planets.

He was still not able to comprehend that his best fri- no, the Decepticon Second in Command, was a femme! Aside from the fact that it was a quandary that was the talk of the Science/Development Division, it was impossible for anyone to become a femme! There was no scientific explanation and he highly doubted that any outside forces could have interfered. Not only would their orbital sentries have been on the fritz if anything unregistered came to Earth, all the mechs on the battlefield would have seen it.

Starscream swiped her claws in the direction of the camera, his- her optics wild and fangs bared.

Skyfire could not help but feel both repulsed and sickly intrigued by Starscream's actions. Sure, Starscream hadn't exactly been a social mech when they first met, but the flippant, always curious scientist he'd come to respect had been on relatively good terms with many mechs. His spark ached as his best friend vanished before his optics. Now all that seemed to be there in Starscream's place was this power-hungry, traitorous, cowardly, sadistic ego-maniac.

What the hell happened to him? Not the femme situation. That explained itself (up to a certain point, but that would be rectified soon enough). Rather, what had really happened to Starscream to make him/her such a monster? How did Starscream become so brutal, so vicious, that he would give up his one passion for power? And have such a disregard for the dignity and lives of others?

Skyfire's optics turned to Megatron's cell again.

Megaton…

Of course. Why did Skyfire not see it before? It was Megatron that caused it all! Starscream's personality change, the war, the destruction of their home planet, everything! A hatred Skyfire was not used to feeling rose in his chest. It burned white-hot in his spark as he imagined how events transpired after he crashed. Megatron had formed an army of evil, crazed mechs. Leading them on with insane ideas of power, they tore through their calm world, turning other mechs into monsters, friends into enemies, and life into death. She (then a he) had not stopped until all cities, knowledge, art, culture, Cybertron itself, was gone and their species was on the brink of extinction, leaving nothing but a barren wasteland of an ancient civilization behind.

What, in Primus's good name, did she stand to gain from this pointless civil war?

Fame?

Power?

Control?

She deserved to die, he decided. The universe would be better off without her. The Decepticon cause would collapse, those evil mechs would disband or destroy themselves, and the Autobots could return Cybertron to the way it was before.

But before that, he would deal with her his own way…

As slowly and as painfully as he could…

"Skyfire, will you stop growling! You're aggravating my glitch."

Skyfire jumped internally, his hatred pushed back temporarily. Red Alert was looking at him over his shoulder, glaring openly, optics suspicious. His horns were glowing a faint blue. Skyfire could only imagine the conspiracy theories and crazed ideas going through his head.

"Sorry," Skyfire said, looking at the floor, pushing his murderous feelings away. "It's been a long day, and I'm rather tired. My mind wandered." Skyfire had somehow forgotten Red Alert was still in the room while his mind ran to the very places he had wanted to avoid. A mighty feat, forgetting about Red Alert, considering he practically lived in the Monitor Room.

"I don't doubt it." Red Alert said flatly. His eyes narrowed and he typed something onto the console, keeping his optics on Skyfire. "But this is no time for you to be tired. You have work to do. Especially since it's not every day you get to see an old friend."

Skyfire's head snapped up.

"What?" He said, shocked. Hope rose in him. "Who!"

Red alert got up from his chair, his entire posture distrusting. He held out the duty roster. The hope died in Skyfire and was replaced by painful acceptance. It was just more duties that would bring him in contact with other Autobots. Or Decepticons.

It depended on who thought Skyfire's 'old friends' were.

Skyfire took the roster and examined it with sad optics.

Allocation of Duties to All Available Mechs

(First shift beginning at 0800 hours; Second shift at 1400 hours; Third at 2000; Fourth at 0200 local time.)

First Shift

Monitor Duty: Cliffjumper, Windcharger

Inventory: Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Bumblebee

Maintenance: Wheeljack, Mirage

Sky Spy Watch: Cosmos, Smokescreen, Huffer

Cleaning Duty: At Prowl's discretion

Autobot Liaison to Human arrivals: Hound, Beachcomber,

Energon Guard duty: Trailbreaker, Skids, Brawn, Gears… et al.

Patrol Area 1: Jazz, Blaster, Tracks

Patrol Area 2: Silverbolt… et al., Blades

Skyfire continued down the list, from patrol duty of the various regions near and dear to the base to shower scrubbing duty for the next three shifts. He reached the bottom and looked up at Red Alert, confused.

"Red Alert," he said slowly, unsure of just what was going on, "I am not on this list. And I know I wasn't cleared for any time off-duty." Red Alert snatched the data pad out of his hands and threw it back on top of the precarious pile next to the wall.

"Exactly." Red Alert said flatly, optics narrowed. "If you're not on the general duty list, then obviously you were cleared for guard duty."

Skyfire shuttered his optics a few times in rapid succession. He found his vocal processors a while later.

"G-guard duty?" He said shakily.

Red Alert nodded.

"… Starscream?" He almost whispered.

"Give the Bot an energon cube." Red Alert clapped his hands sarcastically, utterly displeased. "You're off to guard Starscream as soon as the shift changes." His tone and optics became icy. "But let me clarify a few things for you." The Autobot security director stood before Skyfire, and extremely serious look occupying his face plates.

"Frankly," He began, his tone lecturing, horns sparking ominously, "I do not trust you to be put in the same room as Starscream. Decepticons have a way of taking advantage of comrades, friends, family, what have you. And, while they get along with each other like water and oil, Decepticons will help each other if both benefit." Skyfire nodded, not entirely sure why Red Alert brought up that last comment.

Red Alert continued. "First, under no circumstances are you to be unarmed. You must have a weapon trained on Starscream at all times."

Skyfire nodded stiffly.

"Second, because of your shared pasts, do not for one moment, think that Starscream is the same mech you remember."

"Well," Skyfire couldn't help quipping, "considering he's now a she, that won't be too difficult."

Red Alert smirked in amusement, despite himself. "Okay. So, I may have set myself up for that one, but," Red Alert's seriousness returned in an instant, "don't think for one moment that you could try and reform her. Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon. "

Skyfire's spinal relay stiffened involuntarily.

He got the distinct feeling Red Alert was also talking about him. He was technically a former Decepticon… even if it had only been for twelve hours…

"And finally," Red Alert said, ignoring Skyfire's discomfort, "do not engage Starscream. Don't talk to her. Don't get near her. Don't even make any indication that you're watching her every move. From our security Intel over the vorns, she'll do anything to get attention and then take advantage of it. That includes our mechs, her mechs, humans, and any other being capable of higher CPU functions."

Skyfire already know about Starscream's love of attention. It had gotten both into trouble more often than not back in the day. He could distinctly remember the look on the instructor's face when Starscream brought–

Skyfire promptly slapped himself and forced the memory away.

Red Alert stomped over to a pile of dadapads against the far wall and pulled one out seemingly at random from the middle of the huge stack. He swiped it out so quickly the top of the stack didn't lose balance and just fell neatly onto the lower half of the stack.

"Here's a copy of the guard duty times and roster." Red Alert said in a business like tone, giving the data-pad to Skyfire. "It'll update when shifts have been changed or times rearranged. You're shift starts at 2000 hours local human time. You are to relieve Jazz. Until then," he walked back to the console, "Perceptor told me to tell you that he and the others are going to Blast Room D-14 for experiments regarding our guests' condition. Go see what he needs."

With that, Red alert plopped himself down in his chair, swiveled around to face the monitors, propped his peds up onto the console, and seemingly ignored Skyfire.

"Thank you, Red Alert," Skyfire said. He left the monitor room and headed off to Blast Room D-14, attempting to shrug off the feeling of every camera watching him and keep his mind away from a certain red seeker.


In the lower decks of the Ark, closer to the bow, Skyfire walked down the enormous corridor toward the more dangerous (yet probably most secure) section of the Autobots' base. I say enormous corridor because even Skyfire felt small. At least the height of Devastator (who was about three times Skyfire's height) and about twice as wide, this corridor was designed with movement in mind, to allow mechs running to the safety of the Blast Rooms to get there and not block the way of the mechs behind them. The reinforced Cybertronium-lutetium alloy was nigh indestructible, able to withstand a couple nuclear explosions and still be as pristine as ever.

Trust me, the Decepticons have tried.

Multiple times.

The Blast Rooms themselves were herculean feats of engineering. Multiple doors led off the main corridor, which itself branched into seven corridors. Each room was basically a large square room, built for functionality rather than cosmetic value. Most rooms contained energon given by the humans, or tools and spare parts. Others were empty and never used. A few contained medical supplies and emergency rations. One was reserved solely for Wheeljack's experiments.

The infamous Blast Room D-14.

Most if not all of Wheeljack's experimental inventions had to be confined to a Blast Room or tested outside in battle, and never to be activated anywhere on base (except maybe his lab. Maybe). Ratchet, Grapple, and Hoist have fewer headaches that way.

And it made the ship presentable to guests.

Try convincing smaller, alien beings that you are harmless and there is nothing to fear from your presence on their planet while multiple explosions are going off in the background, smoke pouring out of the ventilation shafts, and someone continually shouting "I swear I didn't kill anyone this time, Prime!"

It's not good for your species' image.

Skyfire sighed tiredly as he wondered just what Perceptor thought he could do to help Wheeljack. Their fields of expertise were vastly different and Skyfire was never much of an engineer anyway. He'd much rather study structures already in place, not create more. He also never had the talent for mechanical creativity. It fascinated him on how sentient mechanical life and organic life formed, not how could he make his own mechanical/organic marvels.

Also, biology tended to be a lot less explosive, but that had no influence on his career choice.

None at all.

Skyfire stopped outside Blast Room D-14 and quickly typed in the code on the keypad. Several beeps sounded as the multiple, reinforced locks opened and the door slid upward with a neat hiss. He stepped inside and–

"HIT THE DECK!"

Now, Skyfire may not have been with the Autobots long, but that didn't mean he didn't know when to duck when the order came.

He dived out of the room and braced against the wall, wings wrapped around him protectively, not a moment too soon. Whatever was in that room exploded in a fireball of gas, smoke, and flame and shot out into the corridor. Skyfire cried out as the fire seared his wings and legs. A split second later, thick, black smoke unfurled throughout the area and hung in the air.

Malfunctioning intakes (similar to a human's cough) resounded through the haze.

"Everyone alive!" The coughing mech called.

"Still here!" Skyfire called out, unfurling his wings gingerly, wincing when the derma plating cracked. His HUD beeped up a status report. A quick scan revealed that there was nothing wrong with him other than scorched paint, cracked derma plating, and an overheated frame. Nothing life-threatening, his HUD decided and went quiet. Skyfire shouted through the doorway, "You haven't killed anyone with these explosions yet, Wheeljack."

"Ratchet would be inclined to disagree!"

A charred, soot covered hand gripped the edge of the door frame and Wheeljack peered around, coughing as his intakes attempted to clear out the smoke from his insides. Smoke obscured his lower half, but what little of Wheeljack he could see through the undoubtedly hazardous fumes was covered in burnt paint and scorched armor. The stench of ozone and burnt rubber hung around his frame like a miasma.

"Hey Skyfire," Wheeljack coughed, ears flashing, "I see you got the message Perceptor left with Red Alert." His frame creaked and sparks flew out of one shoulder. Wheeljack didn't seem perturbed by his many injuries– when did he ever? Instead the eccentric engineer just grinned behind his mask. His optics lit up in that way that showed he was extremely pleased despite the black walls, floor, and mechs around him.

Skyfire looked at him, worry clear in his optics. Normal mechs don't just up and walk away from explosions! He opened his mouth and was halfway through "Wheeljack, are you okay!" but Wheeljack cut him off with a nonchalant wave of his charred hand.

"I'm fine!" He said, trying to cover his accidental explosion wit half-afted humor. "The materials were just a bit eager to begin! But enough about errant fusion cannons!" Wheeljack's tone turned concerned. "What about you? You weren't hurt, were you?"

Skyfire shook his head. "It's only cosmetic damage." He replied. "Nothing a few welds and a quick coat of paint won't fix." As if on cue, his wing throbbed, his HUD beeped several times, and a few chips of paint fell to the floor. Wheeljack watched them float down and land gently. He gave Skyfire a look reminiscent of Ratchet.

"Oh." He said, an optic ridge rising. "Really?"

"Wheeljack," Skyfire said flatly and frowned. He pointed an accusing finger at Wheeljack. "You're the one who was in the middle of the explosion. You are a bit more important."

Wheeljack waved him off with a flick of his broken wrist. "I've survived worse." He said, grinning. "Besides, Ratchet's still repairing Optimus at the moment. I don't want to bother him with minor things." He shuddered with a cross between disgust and fear. He hobbled through the door frame and placed a hand on his giant friend's arm. With surprising strength for an injured mech (or maybe Skyfire was just being nice and going along with him), Wheeljack pulled Skyfire through the doorway.

"Besides, I kinda need some help in cleaning this mess up." He laughed nervously, motioning to the smoky room behind him. "Ratchet's comin' down after he's done fixing Optimus and I really, really don't want him to come after me with a welder!" He shuddered again.

"Sure," Skyfire said. There wasn't much else to say. He was still shaken from the explosion, mentally if not physically.

"Great!" Wheeljack said and hobbled further into the smoke filled room. Skyfire followed him, exterior armor creaking ominously.

"Now, there's only a couple things in here that need fixing and finding." Wheeljack raised a finger and waved it around aimlessly. "The tables, the energy equipment– hopefully those survived,– a couple datapads with energy readings, Perceptor, my fusion cannon, the rock and air samples from the blast site–"

Wheeljack fell forward a little when Skyfire stopped abruptly.

Wheeljack looked back at him, confused. "What?" He asked, optics taking on a worried look.

"Did you say Perceptor?" Skyfire said, disbelieving. There's no way in the Nine Vats of the Pit that Perceptor would have gotten out of an explosion like that without serious injuries that would require Ratchet's immediate attention.

Warnings and stupidity be damned, if Perceptor was hurt, Skyfire would make sure that Ratchet saw to him, regardless of the consequences or the tirades.

Oblivious to Skyfire's internal oath of helping, Wheeljack shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeah, he's not here yet." Wheeljack said. "Perceptor said something about talking to Optimus before coming down here. I don't know if Ratchet had let him through to see Optimus though, and if he did, well…" Wheeljack trailed off, not sure just what to say. "I guess he's taking a while. Thus, we need to find him." He shrugged and continued walking, dragging Skyfire behind him.

Skyfire sighed in relief. So Perceptor hadn't been in that explosion, praise be to the Almighty Primus. He felt better knowing his best friend was okay. Maybe not in the best of places, knowing Ratchet's volume and proximity to and proficiency with wrenches, but definitely better than in BR D-14.

As they continued into the room, a table came into view. There were several monitors and rock samples scattered all across it and several energon cubes stacked haphazardly nearby. Wheeljack let go of Skyfire's arm and hobbled off into the smoke, calling over his shoulder. "I'll find the vents. Do you mind organizing that desk and making sure everything's there? There should be a datapad with the entire list somewhere nearby."

"Alright." Skyfire said, leaning against the table. He picked up the datapad Wheeljack mentioned and quickly assessed that everything was there, although in a much more jumbled fashion than any respectable Cybertronian scientist would ever allow. He noted the multiple sedimentary and igneous rock types, the quartz from the desert, slightly charred plant life, a Saguaro (which was weird since Saguaros only grew in the Sonoran Desert several hundred miles south of the battlefield, but Skyfire had learned not to ask), what looked like a hoo-doo, and several energon cubes.

Skyfire rearranged the table to look presentable and took the energon cubes away from the other ingredients. Basic safety protocols had to be followed.

Just because Wheeljack, Perceptor, Ratchet, and the others in the Science Division were careless, didn't mean that Skyfire was. He still followed the standard Cybertronian lab safety rules and Rule #1,902,384 said No energon is allowed in or near the experiment area, unless used in the experiment (see Rules #234,803,948-234,804,000).

This is not to say that Skyfire didn't think that his fellow Autobots were careless, just stupid when it came to safety. He'd been with the Autobots long enough to know that their Science Division mechs were top of the line and twice as crazy. Coupled with a general disregard for the more proper, advanced safety protocols, one could get the best (and most insane) inventions in the galaxy in half the time and with twice the trips to the Medbay.

Prime's personal brain trust indeed.

Several beeps sounded through the room and the large overhead fans turned on and drew the smoke up and out. Wheeljack waved merrily from the other side of the room, thumbs up, before skipping off to clean up. As to why Wheeljack was so happy, Skyfire wasn't sure. He stared around the room, partially horrified.

With said smoke gone, the extent of the wreckage was far more devastating that initially thought. Crates were scattered all over the place, soot clung to everything from the walls to the ceilings, shards of metal, glass, and several other objects Skyfire couldn't identify littered the ground. Wheeljack dragged some twisted metal out from behind one of the luckier stacks of crates, mumbling something Skyfire couldn't hear (indicated by his flashing head-fins).

Skyfire walked through the wreckage, picking up measuring equipment, remote detonators, and other things Skyfire thought looked like Cybertronian insides. As per Wheeljack's shouted instructions, unsalvageable slag went in the far corner to be recycled, salvageable slag went next to the door to the hallway for repairs, and working slag went near another door that lead off into the Command Center.

Now, I feel as though everyone needs another lowdown lest confusion sets in before I want it to.

As stated before, each Blast Room was just a really big room for storage and this one definitely had several crates in it. As to their contents, Ratchet always said something about extra frame parts, but Skyfire wasn't completely convinced, although he had no desire to confirm Ratchet's claim. In regards to D-14's second purpose, it was modified to protect mechs from any unnecessary harm due to… um, unforeseen circumstances with prototype inventions. It had a heavily reinforced wall built into it, dividing the normally large room into a slightly smaller room, and a Command Center for Wheeljack and anyone with him to hide in when the inventions went BOOM, as they normally did. The Command Center had several tables, a couple Cybertronian size chemistry sets, a computer terminal, and a large window to observe an invention's purpose or explosion.

The explosions are always fun to watch. It's being inside explosions that normally drove mechs away.

Skyfire quickly herded Wheeljack's working slag into the Command Center and left it in a back corner before helping Wheeljack get everything else into some semblance of working order.

Several breems later, the Blast Room was ready for experimentation and explosions.

"So." Skyfire said, leaning against a crate with his arms crossed, as Wheeljack aimed his fusion cannon at a poor piece of earth from the battlefield, "what exactly do you need me for? You know I have limited knowledge of weaponry and chemistry." He sincerely hoped that they didn't ask about Sta– chemical formulas or the physics behind recombining molecules. They were boring on Cybertron, they were boring on Earth, and he never really remembered things that bored him. Also, his processor running at a terabyte a second with random scenarios concerning exploding mechs thanks to a broken safety rule did not help his frazzled sensory diodes at all.

"You're a biologist." Wheeljack said simply, lining up the scope with the unfortunate rock. "We need to know exactly what a large infusion of energy does to a mech frame. And you're the only one with enough knowledge of biology to know what happens."

Skyfire raised an optic ridge. Wasn't this Ratchet'sarea of expertise? Shouldn't the medic, who knew a mech's insides better than he did, be doing this?

But then again… If Skyfire's brief stay taught him anything, it was do not bother the medic when he was repairing a mech. You could distract Ratchet from a very delicate operation and then lose a comrade and then have to deal with Ratchet's murderous tirade afterward. It was best to just let Ratchet finish his job, let him yell at the stupid repaired mech in question, let him give the dumb mech a heavy dent on the helm, and then can you go speak to the medic. By that time most of the murderous intent should be hidden behind some semblance of relief.

Besides, Prime was in the Bay now. Ratchet would be in Lecture Mode for a long time. Now wasn't the best time to ask Ratchet anything.

"I'll tell you what I know, but it is not a lot." Skyfire warned as Wheeljack walked over to the samples table and bent over to write something down. Wheeljack didn't look perturbed and just smiled at his large flying friend, motioning him to begin.

Skyfire sighed (not entirely convinced why he was here) and said. "Exactly what a large infusion of energy does depends upon the type of energy used. If it's energon, then there's revitalization. Most systems will use the extra energon to either repair any damage or convert it into a highly concentrated form for energy storage." He paused as Wheeljack nodded his head and mumbled something Skyfire didn't catch. Wheeljack quickly wrote down a couple notes on a datapad and motioned for Skyfire to continue.

"If it is electricity," Skyfire said, "depending upon the entry point and voltage, it could cause death, numbing, or burns. If it's most other kinds of energy (once again depending upon entry point and amount of energy) then it can cause a lot of damage, mostly in the form of an explosion." He gave Wheeljack a quick, slightly confused look, then said. "You don't need a scientist to figure most of that out."

"Yeah," Wheeljack said distractedly as he finished writing on the datapad. He stood up and walked over to his fusion cannon. He fiddled with a couple settings on the fusion cannon before admitting. "But the thing is, we're not exactly sure what kind of energy we're dealing with."

Skyfire paused.

"Excuse me?" He said after a moment. "What do you mean you don't know?" Maybe the Science Division mechs were sloppier than he initially thought. "You built that fusion cannon. Don't you know what it does?"

Wheeljack straightened and rubbed the back of his helm, his optics crinkling in a frown.

"But that's the thing." Wheeljack said, turning to his large friend. "I know exactly what type of energy this cannon gives off." He rapped it with a knuckle. Skyfire flinched, expecting it to explode. Wheeljack didn't seem to notice. "But the records we recovered from Teletraan say it's a different kind of energy. Completely different from fusion energy in fact. Helms up."

He tossed a datapad Skyfire's way. Skyfire inadvertently played Hot Potato with it, but managed to catch it with both hands.

Skyfire turned the datapad over and reviewed its contents carefully. According to it, the energy was a new kind, very similar to fusion energy, but not. Its concentrated energy signature was off the scale of fusion, but it had the characteristics of fusion. Atoms recombined and the subsequent energy was let loose in one giant burst, but extra molecules that should not (and could not) have formed, did.

Namely cybertronium bonded with oxygen, titanium, lutetium, and carbon.

"Wheeljack," Skyfire said calmly, not looking up from the datapad. "Are you sure Teletraan is not glitching?"

"Positive." Wheeljack replied, crossing his arms. "Ratchet scanned Teletraan when it gave us this data. That," he pointed to the datapad, "is the energy signature and resulting molecules of the explosion that turned Megatron and company into femmes."

Skyfire stared at Wheeljack incredulously.

"But cybertronium needs a huge amount of energy to bond with anything!" He cried.

"Precisely." A new voice said. Wheeljack and Skyfire turned to look at the newcomer in the doorway.

"Hey Percy!" Wheeljack said happily. Skyfire nodded his head in greeting.

"Good evening, Skyfire, Wheeljack." Perceptor said. The small scientist walked into the Blast Room, dragging disproportionately large piece of machinery from his lab behind him. "I see that I have, as some say, 'not missed any of the fun.'" He said.

"Nope, you've come just in time." Wheeljack said, skipping over to help Perceptor push the hulking machine into the room. "And you've brought the energy disintegrator! Excellent!" Wheeljack clapped happily. "I've was wondering what I was missing!"

Skyfire watched this exchange with a little bit of apprehension. Seriously, he was wondering about the Science Division's pretense for disaster at this point.

With their combined efforts, Perceptor and Wheeljack pushed the energy disintergrator to the samples table and set it up next to the fusion cannon. They took several cables from the disintegrator and plugged them into the fusion cannons revealed internal workings.

"So did you manage to talk to Optimus about whatever it was you wanted?" Wheeljack said, fiddling with several controls on the disintegrator.

"No. Ratchet has declined all guests." Perceptor said, organizing the samples and energy montiors. "He said something about 'teaching the Prime a lesson in intelligence,' though I highly doubt wrenches to the cranium are in anyway beneficial to overall mental stability. I will meet with Prime when he is fully repaired."

"Good idea." Wheeljack said. "Ratchet said he'd be down after he was finished repairing Prime. You could probably talk with him then." Wheeljack primed the energy disintegrator and took initial readings of the

Skyfire sat on the sidelines through this entire exchange. He felt a little useless, but knew that Wheeljack and Perceptor were far better suited to setting up the experimentation area than he was. After all, it was their experiment.

Two breems and a few polite small-talk conversations later, the entire experimentation area was set up, unnecessary samples were moved to the Command Center, and all extraneous materials stored away for later use. The three mechs retired to the Command Center where Wheeljack and Perceptor primed the terminals and set up the remote detonators.

"Now," Perceptor said, seated at a table. "Where were you both in your discussion before I had arrived?"

"We were discussing how different energy types affected a mech's frame and theorizing about the energy signature Teletraan gave us." Skyfire said, glad to finally have something to do.

"Indeed." Perceptor nodded and smiled at Skyfire. He began their conversation where they had left off. "The only immediate source of cybertronium on this planet is from Cybertronian frames." He stated, resting his chin on his hands, elbows on the table. "I believe Megatron and his minions provided the cybertronium found in the energy report."

"Alright," Skyfire said, getting to the question he really wanted to ask. "But what gave the cybertronium atoms enough energy to overcome the activation threshold?"

"That is a good question." Wheeljack said, walking over to the table from the large window and sitting down. "I think the energy that turned the Decepticons into femmes could have caused the bonding. There was enough of the stuff to allow cybertronium to bond. And it is a fusion cannon. Combining molecules and releasing the resulting energy is what it does."

"But it's impossible." Skyfire insisted from his little corner of the table. Both Wheeljack and Perceptor turned to him. "Fusion energy isn't enough. You would need at least ten times the amount of energy given off by your cannon to bond cybertronium. Not to mention, there is no way a simple explosion or any kind of energy would suddenly turn a mech into a femme." He raised a finger. "For one thing, they have different frame structures, not to mention mech and femme sparks are completely different in strength. You would have to somehow change the base nature of the spark of a mech to get a femme and then make extensive renovations to the frame."

There was a pregnant pause while Wheeljack and Perceptor stared at him blankly. Skyfire shifted in his seat. What were they staring at? Wasn't it common knowledge what made a femme different from a mech? He suddenly became very interested in the small rock sample in the fusion cannon's target range outside the window and tried to ignore Wheeljack and Perceptor's stares.

"Well," Wheeljack said, breaking that awkward silence, "we know the Decepticons' frames changed, so maybe their sparks changed as well."

Even Wheeljack had to admit the words sounded quite silly coming out of his vocal processor.

"What has the ability to alter a spark?" Perceptor said, voicing everyone's thoughts. He was about to go on with that train of thought, but stopped and shook his head lightly. "No. Basic information is imperative to answering scientific inquiries." He looked up at Skyfire. "Tell us, Skyfire, what are the specific differences between a mech and femme?"

Skyfire shuddered his optics rapidly and his mouth hung open stupidly. Perceptor and Wheeljack exchanged a quick glance.

"… Don't you know?" Skyfire said, incredulously, several tense moments later. Okay, Skyfire knew that the Autobot scientists weren't well versed in Cybertronian anatomy, but really? Not knowing the differences between a mech and a femme? Skyfire was halfway convinced that either being on Earth had scrambled their cerebral circuits, or common knowledge wasn't all that common among the mechs of the Ark.

There was a deep sigh from both Autobot mechs and they exchanged another glance.

"Skyfire," Wheeljack began lightly, looking back up at his friend, "I know you missed out on a lot of the war, but…" He paused then went on. "Femmes are a nigh extinct species now. There are only seven or eight femmes left in the Autobot ranks, all of whom are on Cybertron. As of our latest intelligence, there are no femmes in the Decepticon ranks."

"No one on the Ark has seen a femme in quite some time." Perceptor continued. "I believe several mechs saw Optimus Prime's mate before we departed, but other than that rare glimpse, the last time anyone saw a femme was during the first stages of the war."

Skyfire's optics widened in horror. Almost all of the femmes are gone? He thought incredulously. He knew that the Cybertronian population had been decimated by the war, but an entire subgroup completely wiped out! It had been barely six orns ago that he saw femmes everywhere on the streets of Cybertron, and now he's told they're all extinct? He could barely comprehend such a vast number declining in such a short amount of time!

But then again… A darker part of Skyfire's mind stated calmly. It wasn't a short amount of time, was it?

Vorns upon vorns had passed while Skyfire had remained rooted in the same time. Life-changing events occurred without his knowledge, without him, transforming all he knew into a nightmarish world of uncertainty and warfare.

Sometimes, the realization of what Skyfire had missed while frozen in the ice hit his spark harder than when he first woke up.

"Ratchet would be better at explaining the differences than I," Skyfire began quietly, not looking directly at Wheeljack or Perceptor, "but I will tell you what I know." He cleared his vocal processor and began.

"To start, there is nigh negligible difference between the energy, formation, and maintenance of a mech or femme spark." He said to clear up any misconceptions beforehand. "The main defining difference is the density of the spark energy. Femme sparks are far denser than mech sparks."

He saw the question on Perceptor's lip components and answered before he could ask it. "Femme sparks are roughly one and a half to two times denser than a mech's spark. Higher concentrations of the energy are one of the main reasons femmes last longer than mechs and do not require as much energon as mechs.

"They still need it!" He said quickly as Wheeljack was about to speak. "But whereas one mech needs two cubes, a femme needs about one and a half. A slight difference." Wheeljack remained silent, his question answered. Skyfire went on. "Other than that, the other main difference is color. Most sparks are blue, but femme sparks can be blue or white, and in some rare cases, yellow or pink.

"The frames are a bit more complicated. Femme frames are generally slimmer and smaller than a mech frame, but again, like with the sparks, the armor is very dense and sometimes very heavy, especially in the chest area. Their hydraulic systems are more powerful in their legs than their arms to deal with the extra dense armor. Sensory programs and processing protocols are slightly different, more oriented toward details and horizontal thinking, whereas mechs are more think more linearly." He paused for a moment so that everything sank in. "Those are main traits to of a femme. Not all femmes are like this, so the spark strength is the most defining feature."

He let out a small sigh before continuing. 'That's why I say it is impossible for a mech to become a femme. You would have to find spark energy and combine it with an already existing spark to create a femme spark then reprogram the mind of the mech in question. The frame could stay the same. It cannot be done by a simple explosion."

Wheeljack nodded at Skyfire's words, scribbling very, very quickly across a datapad. "At this point," he said, still scribbling "we know that some weird energy was on the battlefield and it was the same kind of energy in the explosion that turned Megatron and his cronies into femmes. We also know their frames have changed. Their spark status is unknown." Wheeljack paused, quietly assessing what he just said. "We're really going to need Ratchet to have a look at them." He said finally.

"I feared that would be so." Perceptor said. "It does not bode well for us to allow such dangerous mechs to be out of captivity. I'll contact Ratchet and ask his imput before going onto to meet Optimus Prime. His repairs should be complete now."

"Okay." Wheeljack said. He finished writing on the datapad with a flourish and put the datapad in a subspace pocket. He smiled at Skyfire and gave him a thumbs up. Skyfire felt pretty good. Even though it was only common knowledge he gave them, he was glad to have helped with their hypothesis.

Perceptor (happy that they were making some headway into the femme situation) placed a hand against his helm, activated his comm. link, and said, "Autobot Perceptor to Ratchet, come in Ratch–"

"YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!" A mech's voice roared through Perceptor's helm. He squaked in surprise and the poor scientist toppled over in sheer surprise. He landed on the floor with a loud BANG! and accidentally switched on his internal speakers. Skyfire and Wheeljack nearly fell over themselves as a voice screamed out of Perceptor's helm.

"THE STUPIDITY I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH! STARSCREAM DOESN'T NEED TO BE PROVOKED! DIDN'T I SEND YOU A MEMO THIS MORNING SAYINGNOT TO PROVOKE THE DECEPTICONS! NOW, GET YOUR AFT TO THE MEDBAY!"

Ratchet's dulcet tones were unmistakable. As were Jazz's drowned out pleas.

Perceptor's helm was shaking with the force of Ratchet's yells. Wheeljack covered his audios to block out the Hatchet's very vocal and cuss-filled tirade. He was yelling something about Jazz doing a terrible job of dealing with the Decepticons and how both leaders were absolutely useless when it came to proper Decepticon prisoner protocol. Just because they've been asleep for four million years did not mean that treatment of Decepticon prisoners had changed.

Skyfire's HUD flashed with a new message from Red Alert. Skyfire's spark sank. He quickly pulled out the roster Red Alert had given him a couple hours ago. As he watched, the times on the roster shifted. The new time said that Skyfire's guard duty shift began now.

He was going to meet Starscream.

His best friend and sworn enemy.

His frazzled sensory diodes were going to explode.

"Aw, frag..." Wheeljack said, listening to his best friend shout and curse over every single frequency known to Autobot kind, while Perceptor laid in a daze with Ratchet's shouting scrambling his CPU.

Wheeljack's statement summed up Skyfire's feelings quite nicely.


Just cycle air quietly, Skyfire. In, out. In, out.

To say Skyfire was nervous was the understatement of the vorn.

He walked stiffly down the corridor leading to some of the deepest, darkest areas of the Ark. The Brig's heavy detainment unit was located at the back of the massive ship, down a twisting path of heavily reinforced doors and more security cameras than any other section of the Ark. Skyfire's claustrophobia was starting to set in as the halls became progressively narrower and narrower.

He came to a large door and typed in a quick code into the panel nearby. The door slid upward quietly and he stepped into the ante-chamber. It was a simple rectangular room with five rooms leading off it, each door evenly spaced and labeled with the Cybertronian glyphs for one through five. Cell number five had a very sloppily hung and sloppily written sign on it. It read "Sunstreaker's Secondary Quarters."

Skyfire would rather not ask, though he felt as if he knew why the sign was there anyway.

"Hello Skyfire."

Skyfire resisted the urge to jump and turned his head and saw Prowl at a table covered in datapads next to the door. Prowl was no longer bright green, but whatever the twins has put in that paint had definitely left a greenish tint to the white of his armor. Skyfire decided against commenting on his paint. Prowl was writing something that looked like prisoner transportation blueprints. Prowl paused in his writing and icy blue optics stared at him, a neutral expression on his face. How Skyfire had missed the taciturn tactician, he wasn't entirely sure. Spike had once commented that Prowl was like a ninja, utterly silent unless you wanted him to know you were there.

"Hello, Prowl." Skyfire said politely. "I'm here to begin my shift."

Prowl nodded and stood up from the table. He walked to cell number two and pulled an unadorned keycard out of a subspace pocket and stood next to the door. Skyfire followed him and waited in front of the door for Prowl to open it.

Skyfire steeled himself for the confrontation. He hadn't seen Starscream for several battles now, but he knew exactly how Starscream felt at the moment.

Oh, you thought Skyfire hadn't heard Starscream's tirade when she first arrived? About her promise to kill him?

Please. That had been one of the first stories to go through the officers before reaching him. Skyfire knew exactly what Starscream said and her feelings about their long standing friendship. Utter contempt and complete hatred for what they had been. His mind continued to drift along that avenue before Prowl placed a hand on his arm.

"Skyfire." Prowl said. Skyfire turned to him, pushing his darker thoughts away. "Be careful. Memories are more dangerous than you would think." He swiped the key card through the slot and there were several mechanical beeps as the door unlocked.

"I will be fine, Prowl." Skyfire replied. To emphasize his point, Skyfire pulled out the long black rifle he had been given when he had first joined the Autobots from its magnetic strip holster on his back. The rifle was nothing special, standard make and model, but it was one of the few things that marked him as an Autobot now. He had never held a gun before waking up and his first one had been from the Decepticons. The Autobots replaced his dual-barreled handgun with that rifle and taught him everything he needed to know about fighting. It wasn't pleasant, but it was a sign of his acceptance.

Prowl seemed to consider Skyfire's statement for a moment, then he placed his right hand on the scanner below the keycard slot and the door slid upward. Skyfire walked into Starscream's cell, wings nigh vertical.

The door slid shut behind him with a quiet hiss. Skyfire's blue optics illuminated the dark room, giving everything a cerulean tint. He did a quick sweep of the room (never having the pleasure of spending the day in one of these rooms) and took in the slick walls and chain pentagram on the back wall. His wings stiffened on reflex as his optics rested on Starscream's curled up form on the floor. She was in the far right corner, her back to Skyfire. Her position looked uncomfortable, with one wing lying on the floor while the other stood straight up. Flyers normally avoided such positions because their wings got in the way.

She wriggled and her wings twitched.

Skyfire tensed and stood stock still, waiting for her to turn around, acknowledge him, start shouting, cursing, and attacking him. He waited…

And waited…

And waited…

She didn't move. Her wings didn't even twitch as Skyfire continued to stare at her. Stiffly, Skyfire placed his rifle over the magnetic strip on his back and stepped as quietly as he could toward Starscream. Something his is processor told him it was a terrible idea to get this close to his old friend (who cared about Red Alert's warnings?), but… He knelt down next to her and scanned her still form quickly.

He found something that made his spark feel just a tiny bit lighter.

She was in recharge.

A light recharge, but recharge none the less.

Skyfire sighed in relief. He stood up and quickly went back to the other side of the room. Skyfire wasn't sure he would have been able to deal with Starscream. Memories of their time together in Vos and the Cybertronian Academy, with all their conflicting feelings, flooded his processor. He couldn't accept that Starscream was a warrior now. A killer. A femme who had sworn to kill him. Transformed into that monster by an even greater monster in the cell next to her. He paused and retrieved his rifle from its holder and held it tightly.

Prowl was right. He decided.

Memories were dangerous.

But he was not going to let them go any time soon.

He plopped down heavily in the guard's chair and leaned his head against the wall. He dimmed his optics and sent a quick prayer to Primus to allow Starscream to recharge for longer than he was on duty. He really didn't think his spark could handle Starscream's fiery, almost demonic, temperament. It really hurt when everything you know falls apart in front of you. When faced with it directly, especially someone very close to your spark, makes it a million times worse.

Where had his old friend gone in this hellish world he'd awoken in? Swallowed by some power-hungry egomaniac Pit-bent on the absolute domination and subjugation of the universe.

May Megatron rust forever in the Pits. He thought.

There was the sound of shifting metal and Skyfire's head snapped up, gripping his rifle so tightly his hydraulics strained with the effort. Starscream had turned over, now lying on her back and her face directed toward him. He stiffened, waiting for Starscream's russet, offline optics to brighten to that familiar glowing red and then for the Pit to be let loose.

Nothing happened for one breem.

Starscream's entire face was relaxed, no signs of the usual glower or evil look that resided there, and he could hear her intakes quietly whirring. Either she was deep in recharge, or she was very good at pretending not to notice the mech she had sworn to kill not a little more than two joors ago. Skyfire relaxed his grip and breathed out shakily.

Skyfire's face fell and his spark ached painfully..

He shook his head quietly and ignored the pain in his spark. This was war, he reasoned to himself. This was the future he had to live in. This was the way things were. No amount of hoping, wishing, or wanting would bring back his best friend. Starscream was a monster now. A murderer, a traitor, a Decepticon. Skyfire had chosen the Autobot path and now he had to live with that decision, as difficult as it was.

Skyfire stopped his train of thought. His spark was hurting too painfully to continue on that data track. He quietly initiated a standby mode so he could rest, but be ready at a moment's notice. He would not have to think about past pains or hurts.

But, he couldn't help thinking, even as his systems went to standby mode:

I miss him so much…

Ending AN: Dear Primus, that is depressing, but there you are. The dreaded Explination Chapter. I've probably given enough information in all of this to just about explain how Megs and Co became femmes. If you can't figure out how they became femmes by now, I'll clear it up later. There were some things I didn't mention. Yay personal canon that attempts to explain as much as possible about why gender in Transformers shouldn't be such a big deal. Woo.

And let me say this: Skyfire. Get a crazy personality will you? The straight guys are really hard to write unless they are surrounded by chaos and those who think the weird is normal. Like Thundercracker. You wouldn't want to end up like Thundercracker, would you? Surrounded by optics, war torn plans, and a headache the size of Primus's aft? Do you like that? If so, keep going. If not, accept the insanity around you. And also you are the most angsty character I've ever had the misfortune of writing.

To Readers: Please forgive any decrease in quality and laughter. *ducks sharp objects* My absence may have affected my writing and I'm none too pleased with the explanation aspect of this chapter. *avoids fusion blast and hurled energon cube*

Also, onto excuses if you want to read them, but you don't have too: I've been attempting to keep my grades up for college which I will be attending next year. So far I've applied to several schools and have the opportunity to get a full scholarship. But it's at my second-choice school. My first school deferred me from their Early Decision program to their Regular Decision program. I won't know until April if I'm going or not. Secondly, I fell out of the Transformers fandom for about ten months. Yes, I know. Shockingly horrible, isn't it? Couldn't write to save my own fat, useless aft. Thankfully, my muse has been returned to me and I will attempt to keep writing.

I hate this chapter. Really. I do. No laughter and a depressing ending. I want laughter. I need Decepticons. TC! Megs! You're next!

*runs away from the angry mob*