A/N Next week: it all wraps up! Thanks for all who have come along for our cracky, bizarre, never-know-what-you're-going-to-get ride! And yeah, Optimus's special protection here is actually canon! ^_^
Blackout carried the injured Autobot as fast as he could. He winced at the unmistakable whomp of an EMP behind him, trying to max burn the propack's thrusters to clear the effect area. The yellow mech moved weakly in his grasp.
/Don't move too much, Bonito," he said. "Taking you to the shuttle. Just hang on." Well, not literally. Blackout had the grip thing down. He just didn't want the Autobot to die. Which was stupid: he was the enemy, and Blackout was a warrior. And he was sure if he thought about it that he could list more than a few of his own mechs who had been offlined or injured because of this bouncing annoyance. But suddenly that didn't matter and all that did was that Bumblebee had been decent to him, and even counted on him for help. And that it was an injured mech who needed help.
He activated the hangar auto-door as soon as he got within receiving range, kicking off the thrusters of his propack to land on his feet. "Hey, Autobot? Got another of you for you."
No response. That was unusual. Prowl sure had run his vocalizer back on the ship. And he obviously wasn't engaged in piloting….
Carrying Bumblebee, he strode through the open bay to the cabin, only to see Prowl sprawled, unconscious, across the console. A red warning light blinked by the weapons panel, telling Blackout everything he needed to know. "You were gonna shoot at us," he breathed. "With our own ship." He was torn between anger and worry—in his arms, Bumblebee was humming with low charge. Right. Anger can wait.
He headed to the med-kit—a pull down berth with self-stabilization routines, and dropped the yellow Autobot on it, one exhausted hand slapping to activate the controls. The berth hissed, lowering the weight into its air cushion, a thin metal arm activating from the wall. A good, almost comforting repair bot popped out, shaking itself awake. The repair bot made him so homesick he bit down on his lip. Little Autobot would at least get proper care.
Meanwhile he had to get other orders. He worried they'd missed him whle he was gone. On the flight back, he'd have to cook up a good story.
"Hey," he said, awkwardly patting the yellow helm. "Take care of yourself. Bumblebee."
[***]
Starscream had Sideswipe and Ironhide under his arms. He'd decided to let Thundercracker have the uniqute joy of Ironhide's company. Not that Sideswipe was any great shakes. He squirmed the whole time, complaining. About Starscream's flying. About being taken out of the battle. About what he'd do to Megatron if only Starscream would let him go. It was tempting, truly tempting, to drop the Autobot by the now-closed hangar. But no. A new start for the Decepticons. A reign of conquest but also honor. Starscream kept repeating that to himself like a mantra. Honor. It was the only thing that mattered. They had made a promise and would keep it. And honor didn't allow for slagging one's enemies simply for having a smart mouth.
However, it did allow for gripping one's enemies so tightly that they squealed in pain. Which shut them up. Yes. Starscream: leader in innovative leadership. He was closing on the shuttle—nodding at Blackout as their paths crossed. Blackout shot the load in his arms a questioning look, but flew on back toward the Ark.
/Does the squirming mean that one's online?/ Blackout asked over comm.
/Yes, unfortunately. Both of them are moderately functional. Sideswipe is just…stupid./
/Think they need a pilot in there./
/Prowl has glitched again?/ Starscream smirked. Unstable Autobots. Always an amusement. Unless their instability was the squirmy kind.
/Not quite. But they need a pilot./
/I am not sure I would trust to this one's piloting skills./
Blackout grunted. /Good point. But…there's a lot of open space up here. If he managed to crash into something out here, well…./ It would be hard to feel bad about that level of incompetence.
/If Autobots were meant to fly…,/Starscream quipped. He heard the soft, answering laugh. It gave him hope.
[***]
Megatron grew tired of beating Optimus. It was, he discovered, no fun at all when Optimus didn't fight back. Oh, he was capable enough, at least to attempt to block or try to dodge Megatron's attacks. But he did not. He stood there, arms by his sides. When he got knocked down, he simply stood up again. It was infuriating as much as it was satisfying to hit him unopposed, to feel his warped knuckles strike home on his opponent's faceplate, feel the metal give, groaning, denting. But in the end, even the fun of that wore off.
He had a better idea. "Mindwipe," he called. The black jet pushed himself off the crate he'd been sitting on, and limped over on his stabilized leg.
"Yes, my lord."
"I think that your abilities might be used on this one."
"If you're attempting a retrieval hack," Mindwipe said, "Soundwave would be faster and more precise."
"I do not care about precision. I want him a mindless drone."
Mindwipe nodded. He'd download all of Optimus's files anyway—standard practice—so anything in there would be discovered eventually. Skystalker had way more skill at decrypting that material than he did. But if speed wasn't essential for data recovery…. He stepped forward, booting up the nodes in his wrists, hands extended toward Optimus's processor.
[****]
Optimus allowed Megatron to grab him roughly, pinning his arms to his sides. He didn't struggle when the small unusual mech approached him. He kept telling himself he was stalling for time that the plan would work. He was actually quite surprised Megatron hadn't figured that out yet. If it had come to fighting the Decepticon leader in order to keep him here, he would have, as it was the large silver mech had been content with knocking the slag out of him.
Megatron dug the sharp armour of his leg into the back of Optimus's knee joint causing his legs to buckle sending him to his knees, he gripped him painfully to keep him still. Now this was a position Megatron could get used to seeing Prime in.
Optimus flinched as Mindwipe stared at him. There was something eerie about those glowing red orbs focused solely on his face. He felt a hiss escape his vocaliser as a strange high-pitched whine echoed through his processor. He shook his helm in an attempt to shake the uneasy fog creeping over his processor, he winced and shook his head more vigorously as he felt his audio feedback against whatever signal Mindwipe was projecting into his helm. It had him teetering on the brink of pain; he could feel something scraping away at his firewalls, boring into him. As if he hadn't had enough of this sort of trick with Soundwave. This however was entirely different, there were no tentacles embedded into his cranial unit just those red optics glowing brighter behind their protective visor.
Mindwipe winced as Optimus met his steadfast determined glare with one of his own. He was fighting him, he didn't know quite how but he was fighting him. Mindwipe smirked to himself; well he did enjoy a challenge. Megatron on the other hand would be disappointed; at the rate, he was going, he would turn the Autobot's processor into energon jelly. He would be about as useful as a large, very large paperweight.
Optimus felt his whole body straining against the intrusion into his mind. His optics widened as he saw a third orb start to glow fiercely in the centre of Mindwipe's forehead. He grimaced as the pressure on his processor increased. All he could focus on was that glowing fiery red third optic, which seemed to pulsate and get brighter each passing second. He could feel his firewalls screaming at him, agony shot through him with each pulse of that central optic. Optimus tried to off line his optics and cried out when he found himself unable to tear his sight away from the smaller mech. He had to hold on; he had to buy more time.
Megatron chuckled darkly, focusing on the struggling Prime held tightly in his taloned hands. This was it; this must be what victory feels like to hold. He mused with satisfaction.
Mindwipe's intakes had increased this was proving difficult. Prime should have broken, why was he not breaking? He snarled softly in his throat, pushing in further, it was no use the Autobot had some sort of barrier he couldn't surpass. Prime cried out in protest once more, breaking Mindwipe's concentration.
"GaaaAAHH!" He snapped his helm away sharply, shuttering all three optics. His own processor ached from the strain. "It's no use My Lord. He is protected somehow."
"Try again." Megatron demanded.
Mindwipe glared at his leader. "My Lord it cannot work…Soundwa—"
"What's that noise?" Megatron's attention was suddenly elsewhere. He released his prey and stepped forward, faceplates contorting in confusion. "That sounds like…"
His optics widened in disbelief, his spark and processor telling him the same thing simultaneously. Too late.
