Bluestreak tuned up his audios, waiting to hear any kind of sound, but there was nothing. Deciding to venture a step further, he took out of subspace a small mirror and held it up at just the right angle so he could have a look at the situation around the corner. He needed to confirm that the area was indeed empty.
"I'm surprised," Prowl commented, observing his former protégé. "This is the first time I've seen you do that."
Bluestreak's lip components tugged to a wry smile. "Because it's a new trick; one I had to pick up after… a rough time," he answered. He stepped out of the corner, gun in hand and looking in all directions. "Clear."
Prowl nodded and stepped out as well, both hands holding the Sharkticon gun. "You mean the Hate Plague?" he asked, carrying on the conversation as if nothing had transgressed in the meantime.
The words shot through Bluestreak's spark, yet he kept himself calm. "You know."
"Yes."
Bluestreak closed his optics for a brief moment. "I didn't want you to know."
"I'm aware of that, too."
Of course he was. Bluestreak continued walking down the room they were in, always on the alert.
"Bluestreak."
Bluestreak blinked, perplexed, and he faced his former mentor.
"For all that it's worth… You did well. And I'm proud of you," Prowl said with utmost sincerity. "Always have been."
They were only three simple words. They nevertheless had the power to reach Bluestreak's very core, sparking within him hope that the young gunner had abandoned in the name of cynicism and stoicism.
"Thanks," he replied, and he was surprised to hear his voice so warm and, even unburdened.
Prowl must have detected that also, for he smiled broadly - the kind of smile that he reserved only for those who were important to him.
"Come on," he said, beckoning the gunner to follow him. "We're close now."
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Bluestreak found himself standing in front of a master computer which occupied the majority of the room. Lights blinked furiously, and clicks and whirrs indicated that the computer was fully operational.
"Is this it?" Bluestreak asked.
"Yes," Prowl answered, and he walked up to the controls.
"You know what to do?"
The tactician nodded. "When my mind was merged with the computer, I was able to download in my memory databanks all the security protocols and firewalls. All I have to do is deactivate them so I can have access to the files we're after."
"So how long do you think that's going to take?" Bluestreak asked with a frown.
"I don't know," Prowl admitted, "But I'll work as fast as I can."
"Okay."
Just then, the glint of plating caught Bluestreak's attention, and the gunner snapped into action. He lunged at Prowl with a scream and tackled him on the ground before the laserfire had hit the tactician.
"Blast it," Prowl muttered under his breath, audibly angry. He faced Bluestreak. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Bluestreak said reassuringly.
They didn't have time to say anything else as more laserfire fell in their direction. Jumping again out of harm's way, Bluestreak started firing constantly, forcing the sniper to step out of his hideout. When Bluestreak saw him, however, his optics widened in surprise.
"Oh no… Prowl, it's Wheeljack!"
Indeed, the Autobot engineer was standing on the rails of an upper level, a rifle in his hands and his optics locked on the two Datsuns.
"Then there's no more time to lose," Prowl said. "Keep him busy; I'll work on the computer."
Bluestreak understood and took position behind a desk. Wheeljack detected the motion and started shooting in the gunner's direction. Bluestreak winced as the laserfire barely missed him this time; but he quickly steeled himself. If Prowl needed cover, he was going to give him one. He sprang out of his hiding place and fired rapidly, making sure that the laserfire didn't really hit the engineer. Just pinning him down sufficed for now.
The gunner looked at Prowl from the corner of his optic. The tactician was typing with unprecedented speed, while the monitor of the computer flashed brilliantly one message after the other. It was almost another kind of battle as each processor tried to beat the other, yet Bluestreak didn't worry. He had seen the look of determination in Prowl's optics, and he knew that his former mentor didn't intend to lose.
Another volley and a stinging sensation on his shoulder brought Bluestreak back to his own task at hand. He fired again, forcing Wheeljack to take cover. But the gunner was aware that this kind of hide-and-seek game wouldn't last forever. He needed to do something more drastic and he needed to do it fast.
His optics caught sight of the beams which supported the rail Wheeljack was standing on. There were three of them, thin and bolted tightly in place, something that gave Bluestreak an idea. It would require a lot of concentration and he was too much out of practice. Even so, he was willing to give his plan a try. He crouched down, setting his gun on the maximum power setting as a third volley of laserfire showered him, and then took aim. The first round hit the middle beam, snapping it in two, and the rail groaned heavily – a warning that it had just lost one of its main supports.
Wheeljack didn't have time to react. The rail collapsed and he had to brace himself for the inevitable crash. Pieces of broken beams and bolts fell all around him, but the engineer himself stayed unharmed. He held up his gun to fire again, undeterred by that kind of setback, but Bluestreak shot the gun off Wheeljack's hand.
Bluestreak had supposed that that would have been enough to render Wheeljack harmless. That is, until an invisible force pushed him down on the floor; the force of Wheeljack's magnetic disruptor. A cry of pain escaped his lip components as he crashed on his door panels, but he tried not to think about the damage. He clenched his jaw and attempted to get up, but Wheeljack was onto him in a few strides, straddling him and wrapping both his hands around the gunner's throat.
"Bluestreak!" Prowl cried worriedly, noticing what was going on.
"Just… keep working…" Bluestreak grounded out. If there was one more thing that the Hate Plague had taught Bluestreak, it was never to stop thinking nor give up. Gripping the engineer's wrists tightly, he twisted them violently enough to loosen the death grip. "Sorry, Wheeljack…" he said softly.
Wheeljack stiffened, but it was too late. Bluestreak activated the rocket launcher on his left shoulder and, in the next moment, Wheeljack was thrown a good couple of feet away, his magnetic disruptor blown to smithereens.
Bluestreak cycled air rapidly, trying to catch his breath. Thankfully, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around his shoulders and helped him up once more.
"Are you all right?" Prowl asked, optics rapidly scanning the young gunner for any visible damages.
"Yeah," Bluestreak said. "But Wheeljack…"
The sound of gears moving made both Datsuns snap their heads around. Wheeljack was indeed standing up once more, despite his damages.
"Oh, blast it…" Bluestreak said with a heavy sigh.
"It's fine," Prowl said, "We need to see if the reverse programming will actually work."
"You mean…?" Bluestreak started.
Prowl nodded. "Get ready."
Bluestreak understood, and he watched with bated breath as Prowl hurried back to the computer and entered the final command. The monitor in the computer flashed brightly, all sorts of messages beeping rapidly. And then, just as Bluestreak thought that his prayers wouldn't be heard, Wheeljack clasped his head with his hands and fell on his knees. A scream tore out of his chest-plate and his optics all but flared as the engineer's processor got under the unbearable pressure. In the end, however, the optics dimmed once more and he collapsed on the floor, an audio-piercing whirr reverberating through his body.
Bluestreak waited for several moments, numbing shock almost overwhelming him. Finally, however, he approached the prone body and turned it over so he could examine it further.
Wheeljack was alive. Unconscious, but alive. Even so, Bluestreak had to be sure.
"Prowl?" He faced the tactician, regarding him hopefully. "Is it over? Is it really over?"
"Yes," Prowl answered and a bright, albeit small, smile formed on his lip components. "Yes, it's over."
"Hardly, fugitive," a cruel voice said, almost out of the blue.
The two Datsuns snapped their heads around, and Bluestreak caught himself biting his lower lip. He had heard of the Quintessons from Rodimus Prime, and he had certainly seen them in various recordings from all their previous encounters with the Autobots. Still, nothing had truly prepared the gunner for the real deal as all three Quintessons slithered in the room, holding blasters in their tentacles.
Prowl was right. They were monsters.
"You may have managed to nullify our programming, Autobots," the Quintesson with the wrathful countenance said, "but you've only postponed the inevitable. We will prevail and take what is ours."
"Maybe, but not today," Prowl retorted. "You'd better leave before it's too late."
"It's too late for you!" the wrathful Quintesson said, holding up the blaster.
Bluestreak got ready to activate his second rocket and fire it against the Quintessons, but the sound of Optimus's rifle being fired stopped him in his tracks. And, sure enough, the blast amid the monsters had them flinch in terror.
"Optimus Prime," the Quintesson with the face of War said, seeing the Autobot leader stepping out. "Is this how you repay the kindness we showed you by reactivating you?"
"You reactivated me because you had no other choice. And as if that weren't enough, you also reactivated some dear friends to accomplish your own purposes," Optimus pointed out, the barrel of his rifle still smoking. "Trust me, Quintessons, I know the price of your kindness."
"Then what we have given, we shall take," the Quintesson with the face of war replied, and all three of the Quintessons held their weapons. "It's a pity the Autobots will lose their leader again."
"Go ahead and try," Jazz's voice sounded at that moment, and the saboteur himself stepped forward from behind Optimus. "Then we'll show you what an Autobot who has nothin' else to lose is like."
"And just so you know, it won't be quick and painless," Sunstreaker added, his optics reflecting his urge to lunge at the Quintessons right there and then.
"The Sharkticons will protect us," the Quintesson with the face of death argued.
"Yeah, sorry to break it to you, but your troops took one look at our little friend and bolted," Sideswipe said then, grinning. It didn't take a great mind to guess that he was referring to Skylynx. "So… you're on your own."
"Are you feeling lucky today? Well… Do you, punks?" Wreck-Gar asked in a throaty voice, a smirk forming on his lip-components.
Optimus drew back his shoulders, standing as proudly as it was fit for an Autobot leader.
"You have your answer, Quintessons. If you leave now and quietly, we will show you mercy," he said. "I suggest you accept our offer and go."
The three Quintessons didn't move for many long moments, as they obviously contemplated their options. Finally, they exchanged a glance of agreement and the third one addressed Optimus again, switching to the wizened face.
"We will concede," he said. "You may take your friends; they are of no use to us now."
"But do not celebrate your victory for long, Autobots," the face of Death replied. "We will return."
"And we'll be waiting for you," Optimus said.
No more words were exchanged. The Quintessons simply retreated, keeping their eyes on the Autobots at all times. In a matter of moments, they had vanished through the door and out of sight, hoping to get their revenge on another day.
Optimus let out a long breath he hadn't realised he had been holding and activated the communication frequencies.
"Blurr, are our friends on board Skylynx?"
"They sure are, Optimus, although I never expected Ironhide and Ratchet could be so heavy. I bet my circuits will be screaming with ache tomorrow since I'm built for speed, not strength…"
"Don't worry, Blurr; we'll all have the chance to rest," Optimus answered, casting his gaze on Prowl. "As soon as he does one final thing."
Prowl nodded, understanding. Holding up his Sharkticon gun, he fired at the computer once and blasted the monitor away. The explosion reverberated throughout the room, but it didn't last long. All that remained afterwards was a pile of exposed circuitry and cables, along with thin trails of smoke.
"Now that must have been somethin' you enjoyed," Jazz said with a knowing smile.
"Indeed," Prowl said with optics flashing brightly, and he helped Bluestreak back on his feet.
"So. Does that mean we can go home now?" Sideswipe asked, looking up at Optimus.
Optimus chuckled. "Affirmative. All of us."
That was possibly the best news the Autobots had heard in a long time.
Fixing Skylynx was no problem once the Auobots got their hands on the spare parts they needed. In fact, in less than an hour, the flier declared that all his systems were fully functional once more and he was good to go. His take off was one of the smoothest ones that the Autbots had felt yet.
Then again, everyone was too excited to pay much attention to that, and for a very good reason. After mourning them for more than two years, the Autobots had gotten some good comrades back. Granted, most of them were in stasis lock at the moment, but they were out of danger, and that what really mattered. Once Skylynx returned to Cybertron, all seven rescued Autobots would be placed in a medbay, where they would be taken care of and restored back to their former selves. The Ark Autobots were certainly in for a big surprise and, as Sideswipe pointed out, that occasion called for a party to be remembered. That was why the red Lamborghini now busied himself with all the arrangements that he'd have to do… while Jazz and Sunstreaker offered their help on the matter.
Meanwhile, Prowl preferred to stay with Ironhide, Ratchet and the other offline Autobots. After everything they had been through, it was only natural that he wanted to be with them in a gesture of companionship and care, so no one had opposed to that. In fact, that was where Bluestreak found him several hours later: sitting on a chair and his hands interlaced as he was lost in thought.
The gunner stood at the threshold of the room for a few moments, hesitating. He wasn't sure if he should bother the tactician at a time when his former mentor would probably want to be alone. On the other hand, Bluestreak didn't want to leave. So he remained where he was, looking at his former mentor and relishing the fact that he was here and alive.
"There was a time that you would have veritably bounced in," Prowl said at that moment, then faced Bluestreak. "What's stopping you now?"
Bluestreak shifted on his legs. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I guess I feel too old for that kind of thing."
Prowl's gaze lowered. "I see."
A pang of guilt stabbed Bluestreak's spark. "Do you want me to go?"
"No," Prowl answered. He nodded to the chair next to him. "Won't you sit down?"
Bluestreak did in a slow, almost apologetic motion. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Prowl answered in a friendly tone.
The young Autobot didn't speak again for some time. He stared at his hands for a moment, and then looked in the direction of Ratchet; the medic was still offline.
"They'll be fine," Prowl said, cutting into the silence. "Don't worry."
"It's not that," Bluestreak said, shaking his head.
Prowl raised an optic ridge in mild surprise. "Then what is it?"
"Ratchet has a moustache painted on him."
"Ah." Prowl half-smiled, amused. "You'll have to thank Sideswipe for that. It was his trademark way of welcoming him back, I suppose."
"And you didn't go after him?" Bluestreak asked.
Prowl waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Technically, that's the second-in-command's position and I'm not one anymore."
"You mean yet," Bluestreak pointed out. "I'm sure Ultra Magnus will be glad to have back his Earth Commander position. Primus knows the last couple of years were more than just a little hectic for him."
"Just for Ultra Magnus?"
Bluestreak knew perfectly well what Prowl was really telling him.
"No, I guess not."
There was silence again for many long moments.
"Bluestreak… You know I always listened."
"I do," Bluestreak replied, wringing his hands. "It's just that… I'm not sure from where to begin. It's been such a long time," he added softly.
"I'm not going anywhere," Prowl said, staring straight in the young one's optics.
Bluestreak smiled at last, realising what his former promised him. And so, after taking a long, deep breath, he started talking, while Prowl listened on with his well-known infinite patience.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bluestreak knew that things in the world were right once more.
THE END
Thanks everyone for their reviews and thoughts throughout the story! ^_^