Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/Joyous Kwanzaa. Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope it's a good one.
Cybercriosis.
The word echoed in Sideswipe's head like the ringing of a gong. He gaped at Knockout, speechless, not understanding—not wanting to understand.
"I should have seen it coming, really." Knockout continued, his manner uncharacteristically somber. "Four million years of war takes its toll on one's systems. Throw in exposure to dark energon and all the experiments I did back in the day, and—well, it shouldn't have surprised me."
Sideswipe numbly registered Windblade gripping his arm—her fingertips dug into his plating. Her voice shook as she asked the inevitable question. "How—how long do you have?"
Knockout became even more sober. "At the current rate of degeneration…about three weeks. Give or take a few days."
"No." Sideswipe finally forced himself to speak. Now that he'd broken through the numbness, his mind became a whirlwind. "This can't be right. You look fine, you're acting fine—you beat me in a race just the other day! You can't be sick!"
"That's how cybercrosis works, Sides. It sneaks up on you—most of the time, you don't notice it until the last few days." Knockout sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. The movement made him look old and fragile, like a lightbulb flickering before it burned out. It was wrong. Knockout shouldn't be fragile. He shouldn't be tired. He should be fast and snarky and full of life forever, never fading, never changing. This…this shouldn't be happening.
Sideswipe jumped up from his seat. "No! There has to be a cure! Or a treatment, or something!" He gripped Knockout's shoulders, shaking him.
"Sides!" Windblade cried out. Sideswipe ignored her.
"You can't just give up! What about me? What about Roddy?! What will we do if you d—If you—" Sideswipe stuttered. He couldn't bring himself to say the word. Knockout wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a rare embrace. Sideswipe hugged him tight, as if he could disappear at any moment. He choked back a sob. This couldn't be happening. He wasn't ready.
"I'm sorry, mein leben." Knockout whispered. "I wish the situation were different. But…there are some things in life you can't change."
Sideswipe pulled back, optics shining pleadingly as he met his guardian's gaze. "Isn't there anything we can do?" He asked hoarsely.
Knockout gave a small, melancholy smile. "There's plenty we can do, Sides. I'm dying, not dead. Let's put these last three weeks to good use, eh?"