A groan escaped Sparkplug before he could politely contain it. The last thing they needed around here was "fascinating". What they needed was a clean, simple break, some clue to tie everything together, point them on the right path, and from there they could figure out a cure. Sparkplug was confident in that, this wasn't even the darkest hour the Autobots had ever faced. But the agonizing period of not knowing, of starting to doubt that they would overcome this time...that was almost unbearable.
With a deep drink of cold, black coffee, Sparkplug turned back to Spike's Health book, reading about the discovery of the spread of Cholera through drinking wells in 1854. In that case, a map of the victims provided the lynch-pin to solving the case.
This led to a slight detour in his mind to a book he had read a while ago, it was a cheap paperback horror, he didn't even remember the name, but there was a part in which the hero used a map to determine that a radio wave signal was responsible for a bubonic-plague type outbreak.
Perceptor, Wheeljack and Ratchet were still intensely studying the diagnostics. As they compared readings Wheeljack started doing a diagnostic on himself.
"Are you affected by radio signals?"
"Yes", Perceptor replied, "Yes that could affect us…"
He immediately went to another computer and earnestly started research. Wheeljack and Ratchet were absorbed in their own experiments. So Sparkplug decided to do a map himself. Since the Autobots didn't believe in chalkboards he made do with pencil and paper, and carefully wrote in all the data about where and when each autobot was discovered.
"What data are you compiling?" Perceptor inquired after a moment.
"Just trying to make a map of the disease", Sparkplug replied, although his poor drawing skills rendered the map as little more than five lines connecting four stick figures with illegible names, one of them under a short, curved scribble that in Sparkplug's mind was a sun indicating Sideswipe fell outdoors.
"Well, how about that", Wheeljack remarked.
"Yes, it puts a whole new perspective on this whole thing", Ratchet said.
"Thanks", Sparkplug beamed, proud to have contributed some useful insight, "Maybe we can use this to…"
He realized that none of the three medics were talking to, or even looking at him. Wheeljack was the center of attention.
"Yeah, originated in my wrist port too", Wheeljack replied.
"If it weren't for these solar panels…" Ratchet mused.
"Perhaps you contacted it from Tracks", Perceptor suggested, "After all, you were fine when you left here."
"Yeah, but the incubation period on this is very confusing", Ratchet countered, "I still don't get how Sideswipe fell so much earlier than the others."
Sparkplug balled up his useless map and threw it in the garbage. Wheeljack coming down with the disease was not a "break" in the case. They needed someone who had the disease and had answers, they needed the one that started it all. But at this point it would be a miracle for a clue like that to fall into their laps.
"Bumblebee calling Autobots…" came Bumblebee's transmission through Wheeljack's com-link.
"Listen, Spike and I found something out here…I think it's connected to our disease. I don't know how to explain it but you better take a look."
"I can't leave", Wheeljack answered heavily, "I got the same condition."
"Well, I…I'm not sure I can carry her back to the base."
Although the word "her" caused everyone's audio sensors (or in Sparkplug's case, ears) to prick up intently, the affect of the word on Sideswipe was similar to…perhaps the great author Douglas Adams said it best…Sideswipe felt as if his cerebral processor had just been smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.