"I'm getting strong energon readings to the north of your position," Ratchet's voice crackled over the comm link. "You must be close to the source."
"Affirmative," Arcee said quietly as she and Bulkhead crouched behind some jutting boulders at the top of a forest ridge. In the valley below, Vehicons were wheeling carts full of raw energon crystals out of a mine.
"Aw yeah," Bulkhead grinned, transforming his hand into a wrecking ball. "We can clear them out easy."
"Woohoo!" Miko cheered behind them. "Let's do this, Wrecker-style!"
"Yeah, let's—Wait a minute, Miko?" Bulkhead gaped. "What are you doing here?"
"Helping you?" The girl put on her most innocent expression.
"Miko, we talked about this." Arcee's frown deepened. "You can't keep dashing through the ground bridge when no one's looking. You could get hurt."
"Aw, c'mon Arcee," Bulkhead said. "This mission'll be easy. Nothing but Vehicons down there."
"So this scrap is the best you can muster?" a gravelly voice floated up from the valley. Starscream had stepped out of the mine and was examining an energon crystal with disgust.
"You were saying?" Arcee said. Her optics, fixed on Starscream, narrowed. She knew all too well who had deactivated her partner, Cliffjumper.
"Maybe he'll go away," Miko said.
But Starscream didn't show any signs of leaving. He was striding from mine cart to mine cart, sniffing disapprovingly at the contents of each in turn. "Pathetic . . . Hardly worth processing . . . Is a little quality too much to ask for?"
"Stuck-up slagger," Bulkhead grumbled. "They can leave the energon for us, if they're too good for it."
"Unfortunately, Bulk, I doubt they'll be that accommodating," Arcee said, transforming her hand to a blaster. "Miko, get back and find someplace safe while we—Miko?" She looked at the spot where the girl had been.
"Oh no," Bulkhead groaned.
Miko crept through the brush, keeping low and quiet. She wasn't too worried about being seen—Cybertronians were so tall that they didn't notice humans unless they were expecting them and actively looking (something that had inadvertently put the kids' in danger from the Autobots' huge, clanging feet, until the 'bots got used to their presence.)
Of course, the downside was that she was—ugh, it hurt to admit—too small to do any damage to them—even the flimsy Vehicons. Still, she could be useful as a scout. Nodding firmly to herself, she darted from behind one broad tree to another, getting closer to the edge of the clearing.
Starscream was still rooting through the energon crystals, muttering and grumbling to himself. Once in a while he would stick one into his subspace with a remark like, "Well, I suppose this one could be worse, technically" or "ugh, it will have to do." Miko couldn't see any differences between those energon shards and the rest of them, but maybe they smelled different to Cybertronians or something.
A couple of Vehicons were gathered near Starscream (too close for his comfort, judging by the annoyed glares he kept shooting them), whispering excitedly as they watched him. Not all of them had joined the little crowd, though; some Vehicons had snuck back into the mine as soon as Starscream turned his back on them.
Maybe some Decepticreeps had good taste after all, Miko mused.
She was debating if it was safe to get even closer when something, or rather someone, caught her eye. In the trees on the other side of the clearing was a man with short grey hair crouching in the bushes just like she was! And instead of looking panicked or amazed, he was calmly watching the giant robots through a pair of high tech goggles.
As though that wasn't enough to scream "spy", the guy was wearing dark clothes, had badass scars on his face, and had a weapon strapped to his side. It looked more like a taser than a gun, but, like . . . unusually big.
Super sketchy, Miko thought. Fortunately, the man was too focused on the robots to notice her.
As she pondered whether she should creep over there to spy on him, a familiar voice hissed, "Miko!" close to her ear.
The girl turned and gave Arcee a sheepish grin. "Ohhh, hey."
"'Hey', I think you know you're not supposed to run off alone," Arcee said. She was crouched low behind a rock, yet even from that vantage her frown was intimidating. "So I want you to get out of here—carefully—so that Bulkhead and I have a chance to—oh no," she groaned as something big, round, and green stampeded into the clearing with a deep battle cry. "I told him to wait! He's as bad as you!"
It was an honor to be 'as bad as' Bulkhead, Miko thought with a grin.
As the green Wrecker thundered towards the mine, the Decepticons scattered in panic. Moments later Arcee pelted in, blasters aimed squarely at Starscream as they spat blue plasma.
Starscream let out a shriek, dodging Arcee's blasts as he transformed and took off; most of the Eradicons followed him into the sky.
The ground-based Vehicons had fewer options; some ducked into the entrance of the mine, taking up defensive positions as they returned fire, but others decided to avoid the battle altogether, dashing eastward and disappearing down the slope of trees leading towards the river. Away from Miko, thankfully.
But kinda in the direction of that other guy.
Reminded of his existence, Miko sat back on her heels and craned her neck, looking for him. She caught a glimpse of the mystery man crawling through the underbrush on his elbows, heading towards the ridge.
"Better be careful, dude," she said aloud. "Curiosity killed the cat." And then she returned her attention to the battle, cheering on her friends.
She was no longer worried about the Decepticons noticing her; no way would they pry their attention away from their Autobot enemies or hear her over the clang of metal against metal.
And in turn, Miko—nor anyone else—noticed the discharge of a weapon from just over the ridge, and a staticy shriek cut short.
"We've finished the initial inspection of the new specimen, sir," one of the scientists said. Silas never bothered to learn their names; they were expendable. Besides, they all wore black hoods. It made them look properly intimidating.
But they didn't need to know that, of course. Silas put on a smile as he answered. "Excellent. Any new intel? It's the most common type, of course . . ."
"Yes, the purple type with wheels. But this one has an unusual configuration compared to previous examples we've taken possession of, sir." The scientist walked up the metal stairs to the catwalk surrounding the oversized table the robot was laid out on; Silas followed.
"What's so unusual about it?" Silas asked, glancing down into the robot's chest compartment. Like their previous specimens, it was full of cables, tubing, and blinking lights—all configured in a way that made modern engineering and robotics look no more advanced than a child's plastic pull-toy. The systems were beyond comprehension—so far. "It looks normal enough to me."
"To an extent, but if you look beyond those cables you'll see—or rather, you won't see—the usual luminescent module."
"Interesting," Silas said slowly.
The purpose of the vaguely hexagonal module was as mysterious as everything else about the robots; what was evident was that it was some key component, probably a power source. Every time they'd removed the glowing module, their robotic specimen's systems had shut down, leaving it forever dormant. The module itself went dark when it was removed and so far they hadn't been able to recharge it, though they'd been experimenting with solar energy and gas-powered generators.
But this robot didn't have the module at all, and its systems were still blinking and humming . . .
"A more advanced model?" Silas mused.
"That's what we're thinking, sir."
"Very fortuitous. You know that other experiment we've been talking about . . ."
"We're on the same wavelength, sir."
Wrench's systems whined in complaint as he came back online; his helm ached and his plating felt itchy, like the time he'd tripped face first into Knock Out's supply of paint stripper.
His optics flickered online, and he was surprised to find himself . . . standing? His frame was leaning back very slightly, on some kind of enormous dolly, but he was mostly upright. He appeared to be in some kind of warehouse—a long-abandoned one, judging by the blue sky peeking in through gaps in the ceiling. A Cybertronian-sized medical berth was set up a bit to his left and tiny little humans were trotting around everywhere in white coats, comparing notes.
Did the Autobots capture me? Wrench wondered. The Autobots worked with humans sometimes.
He tried to remember what had happened after Bulkhead and Arcee had shown up at the mine.
Oh yes, it was coming back to him—he'd panicked. As a loyal member of the Starscream Fan Club, he'd decided to follow the Second-in-Command's example and run away.
So he'd half-run, half-skidded down a steep slope, relieved to be out of the Autobots' line of fire. But then he'd felt a stinging pain in his leg and heard a self-satisfied chuckle.
As Wrench's audials recalibrated, he became aware of a nearby murmur . . . and as though on cue, that same chuckle sounded again, from within his chassis.
Wrench proceeded to freak out.
"Excellent job," Silas called down from his newly-installed seat in the robot's chest. The team had found plenty of room to weld it in there, after they pushed the bundles of cables to the side and secured them there with zip-ties. "A very comfortable fit, heh heh. So, the next step is to discover how to control the mechanism's motor functions. And to capture more of these advanced models. Imagine the power inherent in piloting something this size, heh heh heh—"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the robot screamed suddenly, its visor flaring as it leaped away from the wall, breaking the few restraints keeping it upright.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" it continued, reaching into its chest, blindly scooping out Silas, and flinging him forcefully against the wall.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" it concluded, running forward to slam its body, full force, against the rusty warehouse doors, easily breaking through them.
There was a moment of stunned silence from the scientists as the robot's panicked yells faded into the distance.
"Uh, should we pursue him, sir?" Dr. Brooks asked, finally. " . . . sir?"
"I don't think the robot was looking where it was stepping," Dr. Fredrin said. "Or maybe it was. Either way, ew."
The team gathered around what had previously been Silas, and which was now an unfortunate stain on the concrete.
"Was anyone else getting paid in cash?" Dr. Brooks asked after a few seconds of silence.
"I was."
"Me."
"Me too."
"By Silas?" Dr. Brooks said.
"Yep."
"Uh huh."
"Same."
Dr. Brooks heaved a long sigh; he knew he couldn't apply for unemployment, not when his job had been illegal and under the table. He pulled his black hood off and tossed it aside.
"I knew I should have finished my dissertation on shellfish," he said gloomily, slumping as he walked out.
He was the first to leave, but others soon followed—bewildered, shocked, and annoyed at their sudden lack of a paycheck.
And so ended M.E.C.H.
Knock Out stepped out of surgery, dabbing energon off his hands—and paused.
Starscream clenched the datapad in his hands tighter. He'd been waiting in the medic's wretched waiting room—no, not even a waiting room, a mere waiting corner— for an eternity, but was he upset about it? Or nervous? No! That was absurd!
He tensed when Knock Out started to move, but instead of heading over to Starscream, the medic ambled over to the sink across the room and rinsed his hands, taking his time about it. He opened a cabinet, frowned thoughtfully at the contents, and moved a few bottles around. And then, finally, he strolled over and took a seat next to Starscream.
About time.
Starscream clutched the datapad to his chest and glared at Knock Out, who had deliberately thrown Starscream off-kilter and left him unsure what to say. So he would just stay silent and force Knock Out to speak first. Ha!
Somehow he was still startled when Knock Out actually . . . did.
"I was just about to close up for the night, but Breakdown said I had one more in the waiting room. I wondered why he was being coy about it . . ." Knock Out said, crossing his arms. "So, what does the eternal patient need today?
The nerve. "I am hardly injured, doctor," Starscream said haughtily. When Knock Out merely lifted an optic ridge, Starscream lost some of his bluster. "I am in need of a more . . . cosmetic fix. Not that you care."
Knock Out leaned his chin on his hand. "Try me."
Starscream slowly lowered the datapad to reveal the red Decepticon logo on his chest—which, thanks to a perfectly placed laserburn, now sported a blurry black mustache.
"HA!" Knock Out clapped his hands together, an expression of glee on his face. "Oh Starscream, it's so you!"
"I knew it!" Starscream threw his hands in the air and the datapad, coincidentally, across the room. "I knew you'd be entertained by this . . . this indignity! You might show some respect for your superior officer after that blasted Arcee purposely made me a laughingstock—"
"I think what Arcee was 'purposely' trying to do was shoot you through the spark," Knock Out pointed out. "But of course your fan club has a solution for that, if you'd care to make an appointment for—"
"Don't speak of it! It's bad enough that Megatron is still—Ugh, nevermind." Starscream frowned; after a brief internal battle, he drew a small batch of raw energon crystals, secured with twine, out of his subspace.
Rocking on his heels and staring at the ceiling, he thrust it towards Knock Out. "I happened to find a few decent energon shards while I was inspecting the mines . . . Unprocessed, mind you . . ."
"Why Starscream, you do have social graces! Who knew?" Knock Out pulled the energon crystals away from Starscream as the latter sputtered. "Apology accepted. Breakdown will do something magical with these, I'm sure. And as for this—" He tapped the black laserburn, making Starscream wince. "Drop by my habsuite tomorrow. We'll have a beauty day, hmm?"
"That sounds . . . acceptable," Starscream admitted grudgingly. "Pleasant, even. Possibly. We'll see."
"Wonderful. Possibly." Knock Out smirked. He called towards the curtained area at the back of the room: "You don't mind cleaning up, do you, darling? That final 'patient' can wait till tomorrow, it turns out."
"No problem, Doc," Breakdown's deep voice called back.
Satisfied, Knock Out he turned away, gesturing for Starscream to follow him out of the med bay.
"Ah, doctor—" Starscream said, keeping pace with him. "About that . . . fanclub. I didn't actually encourage them to—you know. If you'd like me to tell them directly that I don't approve of, ahem, non-traditional spark placement—"
"No, no, no." Knock Out wagged his head emphatically. "I finally finished with the last of them, I don't need them all trooping back in here wanting me to move their sparks back. They made their decision, now they can sit on it."
Starscream couldn't help but snicker. "Indeed."
"Indeed," Knock Out echoed, strolling towards his quarters. "But since you're offering . . . you might tell them not to use their chests as extra storage space. I had one in here today with a little chair in there. He said humans had done it. Now, what do you think of that?"
"Hmm, I would guess he was lying."
"Well, of course he was. If you knew how many mecha jam foreign objects into themselves . . . I had one in here last week with five toasters rattling around inside him, spreading rust. And another with leaves. Organic leaves! Why? 'Gee Doctor, I don't know how those got in there.' Puh-lease. And then there's Megatron . . ." Knock Out's wicked grin only grew wider as Starscream's wings jolted upright.
"Megatron had something—?"
"Stuck," Knock Out said slyly. "Somewhere." He reached his quarters and tapped in his code. "Well, here we are."
"Knock Out!" Starscream sputtered, his processor blazing with questions. "You can't leave it at that! Do you mean in his chest, or in his—"
"Good night, Commander Starscream." And the eternally frustrating medic winked over his shoulder as the door behind him.
Starscream crossed his arms and glared at the door, just in case Knock Out had a pang of conscience and opened the door to share the juicy gossip that he owed Starscream. But, of course, the wretched grounder did not.
Starscream was still glaring when heavy pedesteps came thumping down the hall.
"Oh, hey Starscream," Breakdown said. He paused. "Can I get past ya?"
"I suppose." Starscream stepped aside to let him enter his keycode. He suddenly remembered what Knock Out had said—about Breakdown 'being coy' about the patient waiting to see him. "Thank you."
Breakdown looked puzzled. "You're welcome?"
"I'm surrounded by morons," Starscream said. But he didn't say it until Breakdown had entered his hab suite and closed the door.
Things were finally getting back to normal.
Or the closest approximation that could be managed, under the circumstances.
How annoying to feel grateful.