Age of Smoke Part 1: The Autobot Code

Chapter 11: Loyalties

If Prowl meditated long enough, he could feel the universe, the sparks around him, the vague outline of the room.

It wasn't enough. Once, he had been able to do more than feel—Yoketron had been teaching him to access the energy in the universe and shape it, and Prowl had been progressing rapidly. Though the old mech had never told him, Prowl had looked the technique up and found that it often took vorns for someone to be able to move objects with processor over matter. Prowl had caught on after only a few decaorns.

And now he couldn't do it anymore.

A notification pinged in his helm and he brought his sensory functions back online. He'd told the camera to warn him when Jazz showed up so the mech couldn't sneak up on him.

Jazz opened the door and Prowl stood.

"Meditating?"

"Attempting to, yes. You're almost half a joor late."

"Sorry," Jazz said. "I was trying ta find that spy."

"Indeed. Did you manage it?"

"Yep," Jazz said. "I'll tell ya about it in the meeting."

"Have you arrested them yet?"

"Nah, but I'm watching him," Jazz said. "Hey, sorry for wasting your time by being late."

Prowl shook his helm. "It gave me time to meditate. I'm not upset."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "Yoketron was always real mad when I showed up late."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Yes. I often forget he trained you too."

"Yeah. I didn't deserve it, though."

"Does anyone?"

"Maybe Optimus," Jazz said. "That's who he was really here ta train anyway, right?"

Prowl nodded. "Shall we get started?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "We're gonna work on speed this orn, I think. Ya're pretty fast, but not fast enough." He grinned. "Bet ya can't even touch me."

"I may not be as fast as you," Prowl said. "But I'll take you up on that." He lunged forward, but Jazz skipped out of the way. Prowl kept trying and missing, telling himself that he didn't care how ridiculous he looked. No one was watching anyway. And if he gathered enough data, he'd be able to predict where Jazz was going to move and block him. It was no different from a board game.

Optimus only had one more thing to do before the meeting, which would hopefully go better than the last meeting. Everyone would be there in person, so that might help.

He made his way to his office. There were a few chairs outside of it where mecha could wait to talk to him. Only one was occupied, by a small, slight mech who seemed fully engrossed in something he was reading on a datapad.

Optimus checked his internal timepiece to make sure he wasn't late and then approached the mech, who finally looked up.

"Good orn," Optimus said. "I am sorry to keep you waiting."

The mech stood with a smile. "Oh, you don't need to apologize. I'm honored you would take the time to speak with me, Prime."

Optimus nodded and held his office door open so the mech could enter. He followed and went to sit behind his desk while the mech looked around the room. He seemed at home, and not intimidated at all. That was nice. Optimus didn't get much chance to interact with mecha who weren't awed by him.

"So," he said. "You are Rung?"

"Yes," the mech said.

"Mainspring said you might be willing to help us, but that you are uncertain about joining the Autobots?"

"Yes," Rung said, "Though I may revise that sentiment. Speaking with the mecha who passed by while I was waiting has confirmed to me that you truly are who you say you are, Prime."

"Thank you," Optimus said. "And you may call me Optimus if you wish."

"Thank you," the mech said. "As far as joining you... I still need some time to decide, but I will most likely wish to align myself with your faction."

"We would be very grateful," Optimus said.

The mech nodded. "Do you have any counsellors or therapists already?"

"No," Optimus said. "We should have thought about it earlier, but all we have now is Mainspring."

"He is qualified," Rung said. "But far too busy. I suppose that's why he contacted me."

"Yes."

"I can't take an an entire army as clients," Rung said. "But I could make some recommendations for others who might be willing to join you."

Optimus nodded. "Though we haven't discussed it much, I believe we would put you in charge of a new branch of our medical department that you could expand as you see fit. You would be under Ratchet's command. Have you met him yet?"

"No," Rung said. "Not yet, but I've heard of him."

"You will want to speak with him. And Mainspring or Red Alert can help you find an office and some living quarters. There are plenty of open rooms on the base for you to choose from. Our architects built it with expansion in mind."

"Thank you," Rung said "I'll speak with them about it once I've made my decision."

"As for compensation…"

"I don't expect to make more than any common soldier," the mech said. "After all, they put their lives on the line, while I'll be sitting comfortably in an office."

Optimus nodded gratefully. "That's something you can talk to Chromia about once you've decided whether to join us or not. I'll give you her codes and let her know you may be contacting her."

The mech nodded.

Optimus took a deep vent and let it out slowly.

"You have a very good organization here," the mech said quietly.

"That is mostly due to Mainspring and Red Alert," Optimus said. "The two of them set everything up and they keep it running."

Rung nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you have any more questions about your role here, or any requirements?" Optimus asked.

"There are a few small points, but I can speak with Mainspring about them."

Optimus nodded. "I am curious to know why you are hesitant to join us."

Rung nodded. "That is a fair question. Optimus Prime, you are a political topic of much debate. I simply did not know who to believe about you, and I still do not want to involve myself in a war. But seeing what the Decepticons have done… my spark compels me to take action. I am only grateful that you and your commanders seem to be honorable mecha." He met Optimus's gaze and Optimus saw hesitance—almost fear—in the mech's optics for just a moment. "It's impossible to tell for certain, of course, if you are as well-intentioned as you appear. But since arriving on your base, I've become more and more certain that this is where I need to be."

Optimus realized that while this mech had obviously done extensive research on him, he did not know anything about Rung. "Again, thank you," he said. "We are grateful that you're considering joining us. Mainspring speaks very highly of you, but I haven't had time to find out much about you. Would you tell me a little about yourself?"

Rung's solemnity was gone in an instant, and he looked a little surprised. "You want to know about me?"

Optimus nodded. "Yes. If all goes well, I will be entrusting the mental wellbeing of my friends and fellow Autobots to your care, so I feel I should get to know you somewhat. You are from Tagan Heights?"

"Well, originally Uraya. But if we start there, then it will take all orn."

"I have fifteen breems."

Elita commed him.

"Well…" Rung said.

"Excuse me," Optimus cut him off. "I'm receiving a comm. I apologize."

"Of course. Go ahead."

Optimus turned away slightly and answered. "Yes?"

"I know you're busy but I have a delegate from Torus Heights on the holoscreen now who's requesting that we help protect them from the Decepticons, and I thought you might want to speak to her now. If not, I'll have her make an appointment."

"I will be there in a breem."

"Thanks. I will see you then."

Optimus ended the comm. and turned back to Rung.

"Do you need to be somewhere else?" Rung asked.

"I apologize," Optimus said. "There is someone I must speak with. Do you know how to get to Mainspring's office?"

"Yes," Rung said, and stood. "I'll go talk to him. It was very good to meet you, Optimus. I will be prepared with a final decision next orn."

"Thank you," Optimus said to him, and followed him out of the office.

When he reached the communications department, Elita welcomed him in and led him to one of the holo-screens so he could talk to the red and gold femme from the Torus Heights Council.

"Good orn," he said. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes," she replied. "Thank you for your time. We of Torus Heights have recently been concerned about the Decepticon threat. As you know, we are geographically close to the city-states they control."

"In the case of an attack, we will be more than happy to offer our assistance."

"Yes," the femme said. "We're aware of that. However, we were hoping to request your aid beforehand. We… we feel that having an Autobot presence in the city already would help prevent them from choosing to attack here."

Optimus pondered that for an astrosecond. "I suppose that is true," he said.

"In fact, it would be wonderful if you could come yourself, to address our Council, and the mecha of the city."

He could feel Elita's hesitation. Something wasn't quite right here.

"Is there something that makes you believe the Decepticons are targeting you, or will target you in the near future?"

The femme hesitated. "Yes," she said. "There have been some… disturbances. Many mecha are leaving the city-state, and there has been some conflict between those who sympathize with the Decepticons and those who don't. We are afraid that, should the Decepticons attack us, we will be especially vulnerable."

So they were having social unrest. This was a difficult question. He was very willing to send mecha to protect the city, but Elita's hesitance made him worry that this femme wasn't telling the whole truth.

Could he refuse to offer his help, though? And what if the Decepticons did attack Torus Heights and take the city-state?

"Please," the femme said. "We need your protection."

"We are willing to help you," Optimus said, noting how Elita's uneasiness increased. "But I will have to consult my advisors before making a final decision."

"We would be willing to provide housing and energon for you and your soldiers," the femme said. "And anything else they needed."

"What would you expect us to do?"

"We merely require you to meet with our Council and to maintain a presence in the city-state. I can elaborate further if you—"

"Thank you," Optimus nodded again. "But I do not have time to speak at length now, and I must consult with my officers before we make any decisions. We will be in contact with you within an orn, and will get you support as soon as possible."

"Many thanks, Prime," the femme said.

"For now, could you give me an estimate of how many soldiers you need?"

He let her talk about how many soldiers they wanted, and what they needed help with. By the end, Optimus was fairly certain the Torus Heights Council were more worried about quelling internal rebellion than fending off a Decepticon attack.

He kept careful track of the time and stopped the femme a few breems early. He promised again to send help, before ending the communication.

"They just want extra enforcement," Elita said.

"That does seem to be the case," Optimus agreed. "But it also seems mecha are getting hurt. And they are correct about their proximity to the Decepticon-controlled city-states."

"You really are going to help them?"

"We must be very careful about it, but yes. We'll have to make sure they understand that they will not have any control over my soldiers."

"Right," Elita said.

"You are still concerned."

She smiled. "I can't deny it. I guess it's just another thing we can bring up in the meeting."

Optimus nodded.

Sometimes mecha got upset at Red Alert for not trusting them, but if they wanted him to trust them, they shouldn't act like traitors.

And if they didn't want him to panic when something suspicious happened, then maybe they should take him seriously. He'd said that something terrible would happen while Optimus was gone on his training retreat, and a spy had attempted to kill Prowl. He'd said they shouldn't take so many mecha to Kaon to get the key to Vector Sigma, and it had turned out to be a trap.

Well, this time, they were going to listen to him. This time he had evidence. If not that the mech was working for the Decepticons, at least that he was going behind Optimus's back and putting them all in terrible danger.

Inferno came in and Red Alert jumped. "Primus! Knock, would you?"

"Sure," Inferno said. "Last time, you told me not to knock, though. Don't you have a meeting in a breem?"

"Yes," Red Alert said. "I'm still getting ready."

"Okay," Inferno said. "Do you want me in your office or out of it while you're gone?"

"Stay here and keep an optic on the mech I've messaged you about. He's a Decepticon spy."

"Another one, Sir?"

"I'm not the only mech who thinks so this time," Red Alert said. 'Though there's a slight possibility he's been framed."

"Okay, Sir," Inferno said. "I'll see you after the meeting."

Red Alert checked a few things before getting up. He glanced around the room, memorizing where everything was so he could make sure Inferno hadn't touched anything he wasn't supposed to. Not that Red Alert thought he would—Inferno hadn't done anything particularly untrustworthy yet, but Red Alert wasn't going to let his guard down.

He walked down the hall, checking as he went to make sure all the cameras were in place.

Someone had moved one. Probably Jazz or one of the mecha he was training to be security hazards.

Red Alert wished he could banish them—build them their own base somewhere far away.

The knowledge of the base, the vents, and the ways to get around could prove disastrous. If one of them turned, they could have serious problems. So, Red Alert would just try to stay one step ahead of them and monitor everything they were doing.

On top of everything else he had to do. And he didn't even want to think about the number of dangerous prisoners they had in custody. What was he supposed to do with them? What would they do if there was a prison break?

He fixed the camera, and then moved on. He had to adjust one more before he got to the central meeting room. Originally, he'd felt comfortable with his design of this room. There were several doors, all lockable and unlockable from both sides. The shape of the table meant no one could sneak in without at least three or four mecha seeing them, and there were plenty of exits in case they needed to evacuate.

He sat down between Ultra Magnus and Ironhide. He trusted Magnus a little more than Ironhide, but only because Ironhide had been the one to take all of those prisoners. Magnus used to work for the Council, which automatically made him untrustworthy. Red Alert didn't know all the details surrounding him suddenly changing loyalties, but there was something suspicious about it.

Optimus called the meeting to order. Red Alert looked around the room, at the mecha gathered there, reminding himself why he didn't trust each of them. Most of them were good mecha, of course, but there could be one who wasn't, and it was his job to make sure that if that was the case, that one mech or femme didn't hurt the others.

He listened as they gave reports, talked about how clean-up in Blaster City was going, and what they should do about various issues, including a plea from Torus Heights for assistance. Red Alert put in a word here and there, but mostly he was watching.

Eventually, his time came.

"Jazz," Optimus said. "Has there been any development on the matter of locating the mech who helped the combiner escape?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Jazz said. "I found him. And I got proof."

"Thank you," Optimus said.

Red Alert waited.

"Here," Jazz pulled out a datapad. "Elita, he's in your department. I found some communications he sent. He deleted them from his datapad, but thanks ta Red Alert's security, they saved back-ups on their way out."

He turned the datapad around and slid it across the table to Elita, who took it. Her optics widened after a moment. "Sideways," she said. "But… he…"

"Hey, read what he wrote," Jazz said.

Red Alert frowned. This was worse than he'd thought.

Elita frowned.

"Let me see," Red Alert said.

Elita shook her helm. "He's always such a hard worker," she passed the datapad over to Red Alert.

"You know we do check these," Red Alert said. "Especially deleted messages. We screen for them." He looked at Jazz. "Besides, Soundwave wouldn't be so sloppy. Did you write this yourself?"

If Jazz was surprised, you couldn't tell behind that visor.

"What?" he said.

"Red Alert," Optimus said. "It's possible you didn't see every single…"

"No," Red Alert said. "I was already going to say something, but this is absolute scrap. You thought you could fool us, didn't you?"

"Red Alert, please calm down," Mainspring said. "There's no reason to accuse Jazz of trying to frame…"

"Oh, he's not trying to frame Sideways. I know Sideways is a traitor, but this evidence… he just made this up." Red Alert stood.

"Red Alert, please—" Optimus said.

"I will not calm down!" None of them understood. None of them would ever understand. He could see it all—all the spies, all the dangers, all the ways that everything could go terribly wrong.

"By the Allspark," Ratchet said. "I don't trust Jazz anymore than you do, but you're not making sense Red Alert. Sit down!"

Red Alert took in a deep vent. "I am making sense." He glared at Jazz. "I talked to that mechling's guardians. I had my suspicions, so I warned them, and asked them to contact me if they ever noticed him going missing."

Jazz froze.

"Last orn, they commed me to say that Blaster had been sneaking around the base. But you know the strangest thing? I didn't see him anywhere on any of the camera archives. So unless he can turn invisible like your pet noblemech, someone was helping him hide from my cameras. And I find it quite the unlikely coincidence that you seemed to find the spy within a few joors of that."

Silence fell around the table.

"Jazz?" Optimus said, all friendly understanding gone from his voice, replaced by anger and disappointment.

No one could lie to that tone of voice.

"Look…" Jazz said.

"Did you use Blaster's abilities to find that spy?"

"It wasn't my…"

"Please, answer the question."

Jazz deflated. "Yeah," he said quietly.

Optimus was silent for a moment, then turned his attention to Red Alert. "Have you informed his guardians of this?"

"Not yet," Red Alert said.

Optimus nodded. "Thank you. I will take care of that."

Red Alert nodded.

"This mech is the 'Con we're looking for," Jazz said. "I… I probably could have found him eventually, but this is much faster."

"We don't even know if we can trust Blaster," Red Alert said. "He could be working for them."

"I sincerely doubt that," Optimus said. "Jazz."

Jazz looked down at the table.

"I did not expect something like this from you. I made a promise to Blasters caretakers that we would not use their mechling to further our own purposes. We cannot do that which is unethical simply because it is convenient, or even effective. I have now broken my promise."

"I'm sorry," Jazz said.

"This is utterly unacceptable," Ultra Magnus put in. "Will all of you betray the Prime?"

Red Alert looked around the room. Some of them seemed guilty.

Jazz pushed away from the table.

"Maybe he was just doing what was necessary," Ironhide said.

"No," Optimus said. "Jazz. Stay. Here."

Jazz sighed, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms.

"In fact," Ironhide said. "We were arguing earlier about how to decide whether to let the Decepticon prisoners defect, and how to decide which ones. Well, that mech could tell us who to trust."

"No," Optimus said again. "First of all, Blaster is a youngling."

"He wants ta help," Jazz said quietly. "I know that's no excuse for what I did, but he wants ta help, Optimus."

"That may be the case," Optimus said. "But he is not old enough to fully understand the danger."

Jazz sighed.

"And," Optimus continued, "When we have relied on a telepath to tell us who to trust in the past, it has not ended well. I do not believe we need to resort to such measures."

"If we could trust Blaster, it would be good," Red Alert said. "But we can't! Soundwave played a large role in that mechling's upbringing, and we can't be sure he isn't still working for him."

"We could find out, though," Jazz said. "If we arrest this mech and he turns out ta really be a traitor, then we'll know Blaster's trustworthy."

"That is not the concern," Optimus said. "Jazz, were you unaware that we do not have permission to make use of that youngling's skills?"

Jazz sighed. "Look, I'm sorry…"

"That will damage our relationship with his caretakers," Elita said. "And if it gets out it will damage our credibility. We can't use mechlings to spy for us."

"I said I'm sorry!"

"Jazz," Optimus said, and the whole table fell silent, watching the Prime, except for the saboteur, who looked down at the table. "Thank you for your apology. I forgive you."

Jazz looked up.

"But I need you to promise me that you will never do that again."

Silence.

They waited.

"Okay," Jazz said quietly. "Okay. I really am sorry. And I promise I won't let Blaster help me again, at least not without his caretakers' permission."

"Thank you," Optimus said.

"Hold on," Ironhide said. "We could really use this mech, though, right? With the prisoners."

"We will not," Optimus said. "As I have just explained, I cannot in good conscience make use of Blaster's ability to invade the thoughts of those who claim they want to be on our side. We will find another way."

"What if his caretakers allowed it?" Ironhide said.

"I doubt this recent event will lead to that."

"But you're good at talking to…"

"Did I say anything about his caretakers when I explained why we cannot use him to test the honesty of our prisoners?"

Ironhide glared at him.

Red Alert almost thought he'd get up and storm out again.

"I understand," Optimus said.

"Do you?" Ironhide countered.

"I understand that we are at war and that it is hard, and that mecha offline every orn," Optimus said. "But there are lines I will not cross, compromises I will not make, and decisions I will not approve of."

"Well, then," Ironhide said. "You're going to have to let us do it for you. We saved lives when we took those prisoners—theirs and ours. Are you still upset about that? And what Jazz did got us a spy who won't be able to release the new combiner team we've captured."

"I'm sick of this!" Ratchet said suddenly. "You're all bickering like a flock of younglings. First of all, the new combiner team won't be a security threat. They aren't going anywhere until they're well again and I sincerely doubt they'd voluntarily return to the Decepticons. Secondly, we all agreed to put Optimus in charge. Do you want his spot, Ironhide? Is that what this is?"

Red Alert was struck with sudden worry. That could be true. Ironhide could definitely be attempting to undermine him.

Ironhide didn't even deny it.

"If not, then you're going to have to listen, frag it! You talk about wasting lives but how bad do you think it'll get if we all stop listening to each other?"

"Ratchet is correct," Ultra Magnus said. "Without a chain of command, everything will devolve into chaos. You can either accept the Prime's will or you will cause more deaths than you will prevent."

"I'm not asking you to accept my decisions without making your opinion known," Optimus said. "I do want to know when you disagree with me."

"But you never listen!" Ironhide said. "You never do anything about it!"

"I have better things to do," Ratchet said. "So can we get this meeting moving again and have our petty personal squabbles somewhere else?"

"Petty personal squabbles?" Ironhide rounded on the medic. "Have you not been listening?"

"Please," Optimus said. "Ratchet, that was out of line."

"Well, so are both of you," Ratchet said.

"I know," Optimus replied. "And you are correct that perhaps we should move on. Before the interruption, Jazz, you were giving your report."

"I'm not done with this discussion," Ironhide said.

"Then we will continue it another time," Optimus said. "Jazz?"

"Right," Jazz said, sounding unusually subdued. "My report…"

Sideways looked up from his station as Elita and Ironhide and a group of soldiers came in. He tried not to seem nervous as they looked around the room.

Then Elita saw him and their optics met and his spark stopped. They crossed the room, headed toward him. He wanted to run, he needed to get out of here. They knew…

No. He told himself very firmly to calm down. Maybe they just had a question and in any case they couldn't prove anything. He'd just pretend he was innocent.

"Hi," he said, wondering if he'd make it to the door before they caught him. If he acted confident—if he didn't act guilty—then maybe he could talk long enough to get an opportunity to escape.

"Sideways," Elita said with a sad sort of smile. "We need to talk to you. Come with us."

He took a deep vent and stood up, pushing away from his station. He was shaking. Could they see him shaking?

Primus, they knew, they knew! He was going to be killed.

The soldiers flanked him as he walked with them out of the room and into the hallway. "What…" he said, voice trembling. "What's going on?"

Elita looked almost sympathetic. "You're under suspicion for something. We'll explain more later and if it turns out to be nothing, then you don't have to worry."

Ironhide pulled out a pair of stasis cuffs.

No.

Sideways shoved past them and sprinted down the hallway.

"Hey!"

"Stop him!"

He skidded around the corner and transformed. Alarms blared and lights flashed in the halls. He tried to comm. Soundwave, but he couldn't get through. The doors would be locked by the time he got there.

They were going to catch him.

He heard mecha in pursuit. Engines, wheels on the ground. Sideways sped up, but skidded and hit the wall going around the next corner. His vision blurred and pain blossomed on the side that had hit the wall.

They came around the corner into sight. He shot forward down the hall, trying to keep ahead of them. Then he transformed at the end and this time managed to stop before he cut the next corner. He needed to get off of this base or hide somewhere. He had run now, and so there was no pretending innocence. He ached all over from that crash, but fear kept him going as he heard his pursuers behind him.

Gaining.

And the sound of heavy pedesteps ahead too.

He went around a corner and nearly crashed into a group of mechs charging the other way.

There was shouting and a blinding flash of light.

And then nothing.

"Let me see that gun! Here! See this!?"

Ratchet scanned the remains of the mech's helm again, scowling as Ironhide's shouting grated on his audios.

"This is called the stun setting. Unless you're out on the fragging battlefield, you keep your fragging weapon on stun!"

"S-s-sorry, sir."

Ratchet stood.

"You'd better be sorry! You could have… frag it, you did kill someone."

"Ratchet?" Optimus asked.

"Not only is he offline," Ratchet said. "His processor's too badly damaged. We'll have no access even to his short term memories."

Optimus nodded.

"But…" the soldier said. "He… was a Decepticon, wasn't he? At least…"

"At least nothing!" Ironhide said. "It could have been anyone who'd come around that corner!"

Optimus frowned in that disappointed way Ratchet was starting to recognize as a sign the mech was troubled by something. "Ironhide," he said. "Please."

"What's your designation, soldier? You're going to be spending the rest of the decaorn in the—"

"No," Optimus said. "That will not be necessary."

Ironhide turned and stared at him. "Excuse me?"

Optimus's gaze hardened. "Soldier," he said. "What orders were you given?"

The mech looked a little dazed. "I… uh… Prime, sir, I was ordered to apprehend that mech… I'm sorry I… he came around the corner so fast and I panicked."

"Our mecha are trained to kill," Optimus said. "Not to apprehend. If we ask them to do things they are not trained for we can hardly blame them for making mistakes."

Red Alert spoke over a comm. channel. "You should have stuck to using the security team."

"Thank you for your input, Red Alert," Optimus replied, then spoke out loud, addressing the soldiers in the hallway. "You are free to go."

Ratchet shook his helm as they left.

"Well, at least we stopped him," Ironhide said.

"Excuse me?" Elita said. "We don't even know for sure if he was the one who let the combiner out. He might have been innocent."

"He ran," Ironhide said.

"But…"

"But there's no way to be sure," Ratchet said. "Anyone can panic and run. Next time you idiots catch a spy, try not to kill him until after you've questioned him."

Jazz jogged around the corner and stopped a few paces away. "The frag?" He said, raising his arms. "'Hide!"

"What, you think I did that?" Ironhide said. "It was one of the soldiers."

"He couldn't have gone anywhere, the base is on lockdown. We could have cornered him without killing him. I can't… mech I needed ta talk ta him!"

"He might not even have been a spy," Elita insisted.

"Why is this my fault?" Ironhide demanded.

Ratchet rolled his optics. It was like they were in secondary school again. "Well, I have actual work to do. If you need me to confirm that blowing up someone's helm is fatal again, I'm just one comm. away." He stormed off down the hall.

If he'd gotten there sooner, he might have been able to stabilize the mech's spark. If he'd gotten there soon enough… but that processor was completely fried. Stupid, trigger-happy soldiers.

And the other officers weren't doing that much better. Ratchet wasn't sure what was wrong with them all.

The gestalt was still in his office, sitting and listening to Pharma explain what they'd discovered from their studies. There was no way they could reverse the process. They couldn't break that bond or undo what Shockwave had done without killing First Aid and maybe the rest of them too. It was too strong—stronger than a spark bond, almost as strong as a twin bond. Unbreakable, irreparable.

And that youngling was still hovering in the red zone where his spark could go out at any moment. He did better when his brothers were there—which made the smaller medbay crowded and noisy all the time.

What if Ratchet couldn't figure something out? He'd been too late to save that spy they'd shot in the hallway. What if he was too late for the mechling too?

Note: Thanks for reading!