Shooting their way through the unexpected crowd of vehicons, the Autobots managed to get into Knockout's lab and looked around briefly. There was no sign of the device, but they did almost blast Soundwave out of existence. What stopped this was the sense of disbelief at seeing Soundwave -of all Decepticons- rendered helpless, and their core aversion to attacking when the enemy could not defend. Perhaps they could have resolved this, but the sound of more vehicons coming on the run didn't give them enough time and they quickly fled, reluctantly splitting up to search for the device.
There were distressingly few places that such an enormous object could be kept, but the Autobots simply did not know the ship layout well enough to be sure about which one was the most likely. It was almost by accident that Optimus stumbled on the right room, and signaled the others.
The storage bay was full of vehicons, but Optimus handled them without much difficulty. As he approached the device with high levels of caution but no small amount of curiosity, he almost tripped over something on the floor. Looking down, he found Knockout. He nudged the prone Decepticon, who groaned plaintively, rolling onto his back and looking up. Surprise failed to register on Knockout's face, he gazed up at Optimus as though seeing nothing more interesting than a ceiling tile.
"We have come to take this device from you," Optimus announced, "Do not stand in our way."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Knockout said, his voice lacking its usual arrogance and flair, sounding just as flat and empty as...- it suddenly came home to roost.
"You and Soundwave were affected by this device as well," Optimus said, and it wasn't a question.
"Oh yes," Knockout replied vaguely, "The NIWE is quite effective on all Cybertronians, even vehicons. They kicked the bucket almost immediately. Then Soundwave..." he sighed, a sigh that seemed to contain within it all the possible misery that could exist in the world, "And now... well... you can have the device for all I care, because I really can't be bothered. Take the research notes, if you think they'll help. I don't believe they will."
"NIWE?" Optimus asked.
Knockout failed to respond, so the Autobot leader hauled the smaller Decepticon medic to his feet.
"You know what this device is?" he pointed to it with his free hand, "What it does?"
"As much as I know anything," Knockout replied, shrugging indifferently, "But it doesn't matter. The research wasn't finished. They developed no cure. So, if you'll let me go, I'll just... I guess I'll just go back to lying on the floor. You may kick me as you pass, if it pleases you. I really don't care."
Optimus let him go, and Knockout fell to the floor with a clatter. However, he did not take Knockout up on his suggestion, instead carefully stepping around the heap of depressed Decepticon.
In moments, Arcee and Bulkhead converged on his position, and nearly blasted Knockout to oblivion on seeing him behind Optimus, before it registered with them that Knockout was making no attempt to attack Optimus or prevent him from doing as he pleased. In fact, Knockout wasn't doing anything at all.
"What's the matter with him?" Bulkhead inquired.
"It seems our Scout and new recruit were not the only ones to suffer from the activation of this device," Optimus replied, "And Bumblebee was right, it is of Decepticon origin. But these notes indicate it is an incomplete prototype. Perhaps Ratchet can make use of the Decepticon's research, and find a cure."
"Only if we get out of here fast enough," Arcee pointed out.
"I am currently downloading all information about the NIWE," Optimus replied, "It will take a moment."
"A moment we may not have," Arcee said, "The Decepticons may have been slow on the uptake, but they're hot on our heels now. There's no way we can hold them back for long."
"Nevertheless, this research may be vital to saving the lives of our comrades. We must take it, and the NIWE device back with us."
"We'll buy you the time, Optimus," Bulkhead promised, "Somehow."
He looked to Arcee, and she nodded in confirmation. This was a fight they could not win, but they might yet emerge the victors by holding back the Decepticons until they were able to take what they needed. They glanced again at Knockout, who remained on the floor, muttering to himself about nothing in particular. Then they ignored him. For now, at least, Knockout was harmless.
Bumblebee wasn't sure what he was rushing towards. It seemed like maybe nothing. He knew of no hope he could offer Smokescreen, nor could he in honesty say that he cared much one way or the other whether Smokescreen lived or died. At first, even though he couldn't conjure up certain feelings, he could at least remember having had them. The profound feeling of the value of life, the importance of the Autobot mission, that had been an unshakable foundation to build his way of being upon for as long as he could recall. But he could not express to Smokescreen how precious life was, since he couldn't react to its beauty and felt as though he were forgetting what that had even been like.
The world was just a bunch of colors and shapes to him, each as meaningless as the last. Though the world was alive with reds, yellows, browns and the blue of the sky overhead, to him it all might as well just be gray. There was no shade of color he was able to like any more or less than any other, none of the shapes represented anything he could really manage to get himself to care about.
It was all just gray. Everything was gray. Who cared about any of it?
If he couldn't make an argument to himself, how was he supposed to help Smokescreen, who -if anything- had less to believe in than he did? Smokescreen was new to Earth, had barely begun to see its value and beauty, only just started to understand what the others had long known. He had not seen Cybertron die, had not had the time to come to see this planet as his new home. He had not had the time to belong to their tight knit group, more a family than a military unit. He'd quickly befriended Jack, but the true depth of relationship took time... he hadn't had enough to understand how important the humans were on anything other than a "Because Optimus said so" kind of level, combined with the Autobot belief in the sanctity of life; all life. Smokescreen had nothing to draw on in the way of experience. He was so young, there were many things he wouldn't have even begun to consider.
Bumblebee was pretty young himself, as Autobots went, and he knew he wasn't as strong as the others in some ways, but he'd seen his share of darkness, seen his share of light in that darkness, known hope when there seemed none to be found. Moreover, he had learned that belief is not based in emotion.
Courage is not the absence of fear or the presence of self-confidence or hope for the future. Courage roars in the silence, shines in the darkness, because it is a resistance to despair when all logic and emotion says there is nothing left to fight for. Courage is going on when you feel like dying.
And there, Bumblebee realized, was his argument.
Courage was not rooted in positive emotion. It found its source in the denial of the negative, not in the acceptance or presence of the positive. This was what had given Bumblebee the strength to resist the device Ratchet had put on him. But courage was not alone.
Belief, true belief, was not emotionally based at all. Just because Bumblebee couldn't feel anything positive for anyone or anything, it didn't mean he stopped believing. Just because he had no hope, nor any thought that there might be reason for hope, that didn't give him the right to give up.
Suddenly he realized that his speed had increased while he was lost in thought. The thoughts seemed to lend him strength, where before even reaching the speed limit had seemed more effort than he was capable of. Now he was pushing ninety without even thinking about it. He didn't feel a thrill at the observation, nor was he puzzled by it. This wasn't positive thinking, because he couldn't manage that.
But it was a denial of the darkness within, the insistence on continuing because of what he believed was right and preventing what was wrong, not because he felt anything but because it was the right thing to do, was a vicious slash at the dull indifference that had hold of him. When sunk in misery, it was easy to stop fighting, to stop thinking, to just... stop. And it was hard -so damned hard- to fight that inertia, especially when you had nothing to fight it with. You can't push against nothing, especially when that nothing is all you've got. Numbness had spread through him, but he was still moving.
That gave him no comfort, but it was a fact. He was moving. He must continue moving.
It was this extra boost that allowed him to overtake Smokescreen, who would ordinarily have been much faster than he was. Smokescreen was moving too, but not as quickly. He was on a slow plod to nowhere. Or, more specifically, toward a cliff, off the edge of which he probably intended to drive.
Bumblebee realized the appeal of that. The numbness was worse than the former fear and anger. The dreadful dimness of things, the emptiness, the void inside was worse than pain. Bumblebee felt the allure of ending that torment, and for a moment he drifted past Smokescreen and towards oblivion.
"Bumblebee!" Smokescreen's voice snapped him out of the haze, "What are you doing here?"
Bumblebee shuddered, swung around and stopped in front of Smokescreen. Dust spun around the two halted vehicles, momentarily blinding them. Neither of them transformed, it was simply too much work. Instead, they sat, grill to grill, silently regarding one another while the dust swirled around them.
{I cannot let you do this,} Bumblebee said firmly.
"Why not?" Smokescreen asked, "There's nothing else left to do. Ratchet's invention didn't work, and the other Autobots are off on some mission that's nothing short of suicide. They probably won't come back and, if they do, they still probably won't have a solution. I can't take any more of this."
His voice broke, and he lurched sideways, as if to drive around Bumblebee. Rapidly, Bumblebee lunged forward, not giving him the space to turn. Smokescreen started to back up, but Bumblebee stayed right with him until he stopped.
"Why can't you let this go?!" Smokescreen wailed, his voice filled with nothing but despair, "You guys never needed me, and you sure don't need me now. Just let me go!"
{No,} Bumblebee snarled, trying to summon up the anger he'd lost, but unable to do it, trying to find words of the kind Optimus might use, but finding instead only one, pitifully small statement that he could make, {You are an Autobot, Smokescreen. Do you know what that means?}
"How can you even ask me that?" Smokescreen asked, "I've fought alongside you, haven't I? I've risked my spark for you guys, for the Autobot cause. How can you question me about that?"
Bumblebee refused to be daunted by Smokescreen's response, {Autobots do not fight for themselves. They fight for others. For one another. For a common set of ideals. And Autobots do not give up just because things get hard.}
"Things aren't just hard," Smokescreen said, "And you know it as well as I do. This is impossible. We can't keep going this way. There's nothing left for us. Nothing."
{We were built to be courageous. To stand up, to fight, to protect those who cannot protect themselves, to support -in any way we can- the cause which we all believe in. You are an Autobot, made to be courageous. So be courageous now. Prove now, right here, today, that you are the Autobot that you have told us you are. Put aside your feelings, and be what you are. All that we are is not contained in feelings, in thoughts, in memories. It's in the spark, Smokescreen. Fight, Smokescreen. The enemy is in you, so fight. Fight for what you believe in.}
"I... can't," Smokescreen whispered, "I don't have anything left to fight with."
{Conviction does not begin in positive or negative energy, and that is stronger than either one. Life has value. All life. To destroy life, any life, is a tragedy, even if it is sometimes necessary. But your own life being destroyed here and now is not necessary. In fact, it is wrong. If you believe that all life has value, then you believe you have value. What you want is less important than what is right. You want this, I know. So do I. But this is wrong, and we both know it. Accept that.}
"It's hard," Smokescreen said weakly.
{I know,} Bumblebee replied, {But you must do it.}
"I don't know if I can."
{Don't lie to me. You can, you just don't want to. I will not let you lie to yourself.}
Still, Smokescreen hesitated, so Bumblebee drove home with the only point he had left.
{You are responsible for your actions. In saying that you are an Autobot, claiming to support our ideals and share in our beliefs, in saying you stand with us, you make yourself accountable for everything that you do, even more than you would be otherwise. And that includes every choice you make, even the ones we don't see, that you think don't affect us, the ones we'll never know about. You are responsible, Smokescreen.}
"I'm scared," Smokescreen said, sounding almost surprised, like the idea of feeling anything was astonishing to him.
{I am too,} Bumblebee told him, equally surprised to find that what he said was true, {I'm scared to death, of just about everything, but mostly not being good enough to hold together. I'm terrified that this won't end, that I'll have to fight this fight every second for the rest of my life, and I'm scared I'm not strong enough for that. But I am still here.}
Smokescreen started to speak, but his voice cracked. He tried again, succeeding this time.
"I am too," he managed to whisper.
{Then let's go back home. Where we both belong.}
"Okay."
Hesitantly, Smokescreen backed up, and slowly turned around. Together, they returned the way they'd come, leaving the cliff to stand alone, its deadly potential denied as they drove away from it.