XXXVIII - More Answers

I jerked awake. "Prime!" I gasped, snapping upright.

"Seven? Is everything all right?" Optimus asked, positioning himself in front of me.

"No… I mean yes, yes, everything is far better than 'all right,'" I grinned. "Let's wake the others, everyone needs to hear what I have to say."

"Now?" his brow furrowed, "Can it wait until the morning?"

I shook my helm feverishly, already trying to scramble down the side of the rocks. "There is no way I could hold out that long. No. You, me, the doctors, and everyone else are going to have a meeting right now."

"Your men work quickly, CYLAS." Airachnid remarked, only mildly impressed. They had been fast, for humans.

"If we did not, MECH would not be half of what it is." He replied cooly, twisting the cable connected to the back of his helm.

"Why not remain in Breakdown's chassis?" The black femme asked, crossing her arms.

CYLAS gave her a sideways look, "Air superiority, remember? What use is it to have a plan to terminate Megatron when I cannot even reach his ship?"

"You make a compelling point," she nodded.

"Sir," a MECH operative spoke up, grabbing CYLAS' attention. "The connection is stable. We're ready whenever you are."

"Excellent. Fire it up."

The operative nodded and entered a couple commands on the console in front of him. CYLAS reclined against the makeshift berth they had set up, one of Starscream's offlined clones beside him a short ways away. The team of MECH scientists and engineers had made quick work of the Seeker's chassis, fixing it up in record time. Their patch jobs had left scars because they lacked adequate knowledge of Cybertronian medical practices, but it was fully functional. A crude patch cord connected the two mechs' helms.

"Initiating neural connection in three…" the same operative announced, "two… one." he slammed his palm down onto a button on the console and the blue mech fell limp against the berth. A couple seconds later, the Seeker's scarlet optics onlined and he blinked a few times, holding his black servos in front of his faceplates as if checking that they were real.

"It worked, it actually worked." He breathed, clenching a fist. CYLAS unplugged the patch cord from his helm and got off the berth, flexing his wings and limbs to make sure everything functioned as it should.

The disfigured Seeker turned to the operatives on the platform in front of him, "You know what to do." he turned and faced the four soldiers standing beside their own clone, "As you all know, remote operation of these mechs is too unreliable, we learned that through Optimus Prime's duplicate. As such, you each will control your mechs from the inside as if they are puppets."

"There isn't a possibility of them coming alive and attacking us, is there?" The third soldier asked.

CYLAS turned on him, "If you are suggesting that the clones can come back from the dead, then we shall see." he said sarcastically. "Your brains, fused with their systems as I once was."

"Ready, sir." They echoed in unison. The MECH scientists on the platform remotely opened the four Seeker's chest plates, where a cavity had been made, and the four climbed inside. If they were afraid, they didn't show it.

Soon enough, five identical Seekers stood around each other in a loose circle, four of them awaiting orders from the fifth.

"How are we supposed to tell each other apart?" One of the five Seekers asked.

"Different paint patterns or colors," another suggested.

CYLAS picked up a different cord and plugged its business end into his left elbow joint, then looked to an operative still on the platform. "Change my optical pigment composition to something different, I don't care what."

The lead scientist nodded and entered a few quick commands, then sent them once they were complete. CYLAS blinked and detached the cord from his elbow, peering at his reflection in the backside of the screen.

"Black irises, very sinister." He smirked, tilting his helm to let it catch the light. The only parts of his optics that weren't black now were his white pupils. CYLAS turned to address the six remaining MECH operatives, "Evacuate this location and move to Zeta Base. You all remember where it is located?"

They nodded.

"Am I not worthy of being in on the secret code?" Airachnid cocked her helm, "I mean, if you get killed, I'll need to know where the rest of MECH is to break the news."

"Just be happy that you are in here at all," CYLAS growled.

"Be happy that your helm isn't on a stick, the way I did to dear Breakdown." She snarled, her innocent demeanor melting away like ice by a fire.

"You four, we leave now." CYLAS barked at the other Seekers. He didn't even look at Airachnid behind him, "Try to keep up."

She glared at him, "Careful, CYLAS. You're beginning to sound a bit like Starscream. Wouldn't want to follow in his footsteps, hm?"

"We'll see about that."

"This better be good, Sevvie," Bulkhead huffed, "I was having an amazing dream about dune bashing with Miko, 'til your faceplates entered it."

"Yeah, what gives?" Smokescreen frowned, rubbing his optics with the back of a servo. "It's not even light out yet, couldn't whatever this is have waited until morning?"

The others began to voice their own complaints, creating a cacophony of grumbling.

Ultra Magnus shushed everyone, "The sooner we let him speak, the sooner we can recharge."

"Sounds fair," Arcee agreed. A few others nodded their helms begrudgingly.

I leaned over Starscream's berth, smirking above his lifeless expression. "I don't know, Star, should I tell them?"

"Get on with it!" Knock Out exclaimed. "He can't hear you!"

"Funny you should say that, dear doctor," I began, and straightened up to face the red mech, striding closer to him. "What I'm about to tell you all will sound crazy, so listen closely."

A few bots raised their eyebrows. "Can you just skip the theatrics and get to the point? We're all tired," Arcee crossed her arms and stifled a yawn.

My optics glinted, "Oh, you won't be." I took an intake, ordering my thoughts. "Ratchet, Knock Out, the both of you detected an anomaly with my spark, did you not?"

"How do you know that?" The older bot's optics narrowed.

I nodded at Optimus, who returned it with an impassive stare. I suddenly felt a lot less confident. What if they think I'm crazy?

I cleared my vocalizer, "When a clone is made, myself included, the original's spark is split. The clone then shares a sliver of the original's spark—which lies dormant within the host's chamber."

"Oh? This is common knowledge, but if you are suggesting that something about it has changed enough to be picked up on our scanners, I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Starscream died and I brought his chassis back online. Nothing like that has ever happened before, so don't tell me what's impossible!" I rebuked the white medic.

"I still don't see why this is worthy of waking us all up." Bumblebee crossed his arms.

I pointed to Starscream on the berth with the army of machines hooked up to him keeping his chassis functional. "It is, because Star is going to wake up."

Almost everyone began to appear a lot less irritated and far more sad, almost looking on me with pitying optics. Bulkhead came over to me, "Sev, I know Scream's death was hard on you especially. But he's gone, okay? You can't keep living like this. You have to let go at some point."

I pushed him away, but it was like pushing a wall, "You don't understand! I'm not finished! He's not finished!"

Ratchet went over to a console by Starscream, but didn't touch its screen just yet and met my optics instead. "Seven, Knock Out and I did not want to discourage you, but now this is clearly an issue that needs to be addressed. I'm sorry, but Starscream is deep in stasis lock. He's displaying no processor activity," the medic said stoutly and pointed to a flat line on one of the screens to back up his argument. "Seven," his tone became far more tender, "I knew when I pulled him from that lake that Starscream will not be coming back. I'm… I'm so sorry. We've been keeping him online for your sake, however, showing him mercy is the only reasonable option now." Ratchet looked to Optimus as if awaiting confirmation.

The Prime looked to everyone but me while I numbly stared ahead, digesting his words. He's done for. I'm the only thing between them and terminating Starscream. "Does anyone wish to voice an objection? Sustaining his chassis uses our precious resources, and Ratchet has delivered his diagnosis."

I tried to lock optics with the Prime but he refused to meet my desperate gaze, instead meeting Ratchet's. My tank plummeted, and he nodded grimly. "For the sake of all of us and Starscream's memory, do it, old friend."

The medic nodded back and began to deactivate life support. The machines began to go offline one by one, their faint metallic hums and buzzes fading to nothing.

I finally found my voice. "NO!" I exclaimed, and lunged forwards to push Ratchet's servo away from the controls. The medic reflexively shoved me away with the very servo he'd been terminating my double with and I lost my balance, hitting the back of my helm hard on the edge of Starscream's berth. Momentarily stunned, I sat on the floor and stared dumbly at the medic's pedes.

Ratchet had extended a servo down to me, optics worried. "By the Allspark, Seven, I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

"This is murder," I whispered, not taking it and got up on my own.

"Sev, he's already offline," Smokescreen said softly.

"None of you get it!" I burst out, feeling my wings snap up and vibrate in anger.

"C'mon Seven, don't be like this. You're making it harder for all of us," Bumblebee pleaded.

"No," I snarled, looking to Optimus. "You asked if anyone wants to object? Well, hear this, Prime! Unplugging him is murder. Taking his function is not your choice to make!"

"How!?" Several bots exclaimed, fed up. "He's already gone!" Bulkhead pressed.

I pointed a servo behind me at my supine double, helpless on the berth, and hissed, "Because he is not offline. If you want to terminate him," I let a blaster slide out and raised my other servo to grip Valor's hilt on my back, "you'll have to pry my cold, dead fingers off him first."

"Easy there, Seven," Wheeljack placated, raising his servos and stepping forwards, "you knocked your helm pretty hard, just listen to yourself. Just put the blaster away–"

"DO NOT PULL THAT CARD ON ME, WHEELJACK!" I roared. But he was right to some extent, there was no way I would convince any of them when I didn't even have control of my own emotions. I dropped my arm and transformed my blaster away, beginning to feel shame burn my faceplates. "I can't hurt any of you, but I can't let you hurt Starscream."

Optimus came over to me and bent down to get to my level, "Seven, it will be painless for him. But we cannot let him rest in peace while sustaining his chassis."

"Besides," Arcee added from behind the Prime, raising a servo, "it's not like we can ask his opinion."

"I already have." I said quietly. The room had fallen silent. "I believe that the part of his spark within mine has somehow forged a connection between us, in more than just a physical way."

"Go on," Knock Out said, looking more curious than skeptical. But a few of the others were looking at me like I really had lost it, so pitying… I tore my gaze away.

"I've been having these dreams," I said, "with Starscream in them. At first, I assumed he was some figment of my imagination that was Pit-bent on tormenting me, but as we talked, he seemed to have more, I don't know—substance—than anyone else that's ever appeared in my dreams."

"Seven," Arcee came over, looking genuinely sorry for me, "please. You're not just hurting yourself with this, but you're hurting us. You're hurting him." she gestured at my double's lifeless chassis, "I know Starscream was your closest friend, as Cliff was mine. But you have to let him go before it completely consumes you." she whispered, getting close to my faceplates to force me to look at her. "This is already hard for us. Don't make it harder."

"She's not wrong," Knock Out joined in, "Starscream and I were friends for a long time, I…" he sighed, "I know how you feel. I do. But I'm a doctor, and I've seen mechs go mad with grief, multiple times, in fact. Ratchet has as well, because, well, it happens in war. But not you, Seven. You need to move on."

"Seven?" Ratchet asked, coming over to me. "Have you been hearing or seeing anything out of the ordinary recently?" he asked softly, "Things that shouldn't be where they are, or that may defy reality–"

I stood as straight as I could, forcing the steadiest tone I could muster. "Ratchet," my voice was a soft growl, "I am not losing it. Do not ever ask me if I've been hallucinating again. Does my claim not warrant a check of our systems? After all, if I am right and there is a portion of Starscream's spark living inside my own, you all could very well be wrong." I bit my lip, hoping I sounded more convincing to them than I did to myself.

Ratchet frowned, debating. He looked to Optimus, "The possibility of what he's experiencing, if it even exists, is next to zero. Should we go through with this?"

Everyone looked expectantly to the Prime. He mulled it over for a moment, "You may proceed."

I let out a shaky, relieved sigh and sagged, touching a servo to the center of my chest plate. "Primus, this is hard, but it'll be worth it. I promise you." My optics settled onto my double, quietly intaking on the berth.

A few hours later…

"Seven?" Ratchet's voice pulled me up out of recharge. I hadn't realized I'd dozed off. It had been night when I had woken everyone up, after all, and only a few hours had passed. "I finished the scans of your spark. I would have woken you, but there really was no need for it."

"It's fine, doctor. My thanks for allowing me to recharge." I threw my gaze around, seeing that only a few bots remained in the room. Of them, there were the two doctors and Optimus, no surprises there. Bumblebee and Arcee had also remained here, looking as though they had just woken as well. "Well?" I asked, stretching. I felt stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. "What have you found?"

Knock Out gave Ratchet a look, "We're sorry."

"Seven, your guess was correct." the other medic agreed slowly, "from what we've gathered, the piece of Starscream's spark inside your own is no longer dormant."

My faceplates split into a triumphant grin. I looked to Optimus, feeling giddy. "I told you so!"

Ratchet cleared his vocalizer loudly, "However," he continued once he'd gotten everyone's attention, "it likely was just a reaction, a fail-safe mechanism that initiated automatically when Starscream passed."

My spark sank.

"Didn't you mention something about him being in your dreams earlier?" Arcee asked.

"Don't encourage him!" Ratchet exclaimed. He went over to the femme and whispered in her audial, as if expecting I wouldn't hear. But I have sharp audials, it's another perk of being a Seeker. We have to have sensitive audials to have any hope of hearing things on the ground when in flight. "Arcee, judging by what we all have witnessed in his behavior over the past several hours, his… his mental state is deteriorating. Watch what you say," the medic hissed.

My servos tightened into fists. "I can hear you," I hissed at them. "May I continue? Or do I have to go collect my marbles first?"

"Go for it," Bumblebee said, giving me a sympathetic look.

I looked to Optimus and swallowed nervously, unsure of how to start. He nodded gently, if not encouragingly, "We will listen, Seven. Take your time."

I nodded back and tried to give him a smile, but it flickered and died. "Sometimes, I've had dreams with Starscream in them, and he… he knew things. Things he shouldn't have known, frag, he says he's alive!" I burst out, cutting to the chase. "We've been piecing it together, and we think it's the rest of his spark, linked to me on a mental level because of my connection to him."

"Because of your spark?" Knock Out breathed. I nodded.

"Starscream once mentioned having a dream similar to what you are describing," Optimus said.

My wings flared up in surprise, "What? He never said anything of the sort to me!" I exclaimed. "What was it?"

"I was there as well," Ratchet jumped in.

"Go ahead," Optimus said to the medic, waving a servo for him to continue.

Ratchet continued, leaning over the console in front of him, "He said that he had a dream back in the Harbinger in which he was back at the Cybertron War Academy. However, there was some sort of duplicate of himself with him."

"And it wasn't me?" I guessed.

"We thought it was you as well, until Starscream told us otherwise." Optimus clarified.

"That wasn't the only thing that seemed off," the medic continued, "he said that his double claimed to be a future version of himself. And he mentioned you, prior to your very cloning."

I was flabbergasted, "That's not possi–wait. Earlier tonight, when I was recharging, Starscream and I visited that very dream—don't ask me how, I don't know. Starscream said that he had somehow been—" I waved a servo to help move the words along, "sucked into his past self's dream shortly before mine that night. He tried to tell him to not retrieve his T-Cog from MECH, but his past self wouldn't listen. We couldn't change his mind, and he may be gone for good."

"So he's really out there somewhere?" Bumblebee breathed. "I mean, if his spark is, then Seven's connection with him makes sense."

Ratchet looked down at Starscream, "I still find this all hard to believe–" my double's right leg twitched. Our gazes all snapped to the screen displaying his processor's activity, but it was unchanged from the flat line. "That should not have happened," the medic looked skeptical but also hopeful, "as he is deep in stasis lock, the equivalent of a human coma."

"Is he coming out of it?" Arcee asked.

The two medics exchanged a look. "Without reintroducing his spark into his chassis, he will not wake up." Ratchet finally said.

"How might we get it, hm?" I asked, my wings twitching. "You're supposed to be doctors, surely something like this has happened before?"

"If it has, it isn't on record," Knock Out crossed his arms. "As for getting it, we may have a shot at coaxing it back into its chamber."

"How?" Arcee, Bumblebee, and I asked in unison.

The red medic's optics fell onto my chest plate, "With bait."