At her father's side, the glow of his cigar flared near his voice: Aim. Start squeezing the trigger. Slowly — ease into it. Don't hold your breath. Last thing you ought to hear is that heartbeat. Now—
Captain Lennox possessed a face of stone.
...life support failed. You were the only one we could get out in time—
An electronic scream pierced her eardrums.
—Prime believes you're worth fighting for.
— We've radioed Nellis Air Base, and the Air Force is inbound. We're going to try to see if we can mark the big enchilada, Megatron so they can sack that mother. Remember what I said about bad—
What was it that Sam had said? She remembered liking it.
—No sacrifice. No vic—
— I will sacrifice myself to destroy the Cube, so that Megatron will not exploit its power and throw mankind into extinction.
"You can't."
— Her fingertips danced over a part of his chest which was as smooth as glass. A war drum resonated beneath the surface, its controlled cadence deviates from the thunder of missiles and grenades cascading around them.
" — End our war."
Vicious red eyes set the dream on fire and everything burned away to ash.
No.
This was more real than any dream.
-.-.-.-
Nellis Air Base, Nevada
October 29th, 2007
1845 hours
It was evening when she startled awake without any recollection of when she had fallen asleep.
As she tasted bile she ran to the bathroom.
Lyn bowed over the sink, ready to throw up. But, her trembling stomach held. When she raised her head, she looked at the person in the mirror, beheld her hooded black eyes which she had not seen for weeks but thought they had aged for years. Her shorn black hair had grown, ghosting over the tips of her ears. A smattering of her bangs stuck to her damp forehead. Her skin, usually a warm tone, had paled with nausea. In this moment, she bore a close resemblance to her mother's soft foreign features under the incandescent wavelengths of the bathroom light.
The naked realization of yesterday and its life altering consequences filled her with anxiety so great she finally vomited. After every painful wretch, her clenched eyes squeezed out the old tears which were waiting to fall since the day before.
There was a knock on her door, but Lyn made them wait.
The dream had distorted so quickly into a nightmare she was experiencing whiplash. Her muscles were tense from her shoulders to her calves.
Once she quieted, Lyn held her head in her hands, elbows propped on the edge of the sink, trying to dispel ghostly images from a mind which pulsed in the area where her implant nested. She had hangovers tamer than this.
Pull yourself together, Lyn told herself. No dramatics.
By the time Lyn finished washing her face she strode to the door and opened it, having no expectations of the visitor on the other side.
Her eyes widened then she scoffed.
"Took you long enough."
-.-.-.-
Nellis Air Base, Nevada
October 29th, 2007
1800 hours
Captain William Lennox felt it in his stomach; the slight lateral acceleration as the jet banked onto the final leg of its descent. Even though he managed a few hours of sleep during transit, he'd never felt more exhausted.
His wallet was a heavy presence in his cargo pocket. Within it a folded piece of paper detailed the entirety of his new orders. It'd only just been a day after Mission City, but the military gave no respite and he regretted having to make Sarah wait. At least, he had given her a call earlier.
As he exited the jet, its engines whining to silence as it powered down, a Master Sergeant was waiting for him at the end of the steps leading out of the fuselage, greeting him with a crisp salute.
Lennox returned the courtesy and muttered, "At ease, Epps." But, the expression on his face suggested that "ease" was the last thing on his mind.
"How was it?" Epps asked once their strides came into sync with the other. It was by default that they were crossing the flighline in the direction of the one Hangar in this entire base that was the most heavily secured and surveilled.
Lennox puffed a sigh through his nose. "You know me." He glanced at him. "How often do I enjoy debriefing a four-star, more or less two of them?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. The highest you've ever had to speak to was a full-bird."
"Exactly," Lennox muttered. "Anyways, what'd I miss?"
"Autobots were moved to hangar three. Big boys have been coming through with their bodyguards to chat with Prime. It's funny— the looks on their faces after, could've thought they shit their drawers." On cue, they passed hangar three, striding over to hangar two.
Hangar Two's doors were slid closed to allow only a six foot entrance which was cordoned off with a wired barricade and guarded by a security detail of four MPs, equipped with their polished M16s. They were organized in a staggered formation, keeping a radius of ten feet from each other. The evening sun cast a fiery glow on their stoic faces. One of the men on duty saluted smartly after checking the two men's identification card and orders.
"Welcome back, sir," one of the Airmen said to the captain, permitting Lennox and Epps through the gate.
"Things looking cleaned up here," Lennox remarked, letting Epps guide him through the area. It certainly had changed from when he first entered yesterday. Suffice it to say, alot of the space was occupied.
"Cleaned up?" Epps snorted. "Not even. Feels hella cramped now. You see that there?" He pointed at a collection of crates, organized in aisles with enough space for a human to pass down the length of the hangar. One forklift was adding to the numbers.
Lennox looked at Epps. "So what?"
"I looked at some of the labels. Computer panels— big ones. Control stations/enclosures. Radar imagers. All sorts of tech. Some I've never heard of."
Lennox furrowed his brows. The crates were big, probably containing military grade items. He wasn't surprised. "Might be setting up an improv control here."
"Yeah, no kidding. Funny thing, though."
"What?"
"They're all from Sector Seven."
-.-.-.-
Nellis Air Base, Nevada
October 29th, 2007
1852 hours
The terse conversation finally arrived to a revelation that melted her into place. However, she'd steeled her shock and scowled.
"That's all good, but what about this?"
The man sitting in the chair watched as her pacing in front of the window stopped, lightly touching the side of her head. He did not speak until she directed him her void stare.
Director Banachek wasn't a man who deserved anything less of civility, because if it weren't for him she'd be in a worse position than she was now. Her mind flashbacked to three years ago— he'd given her back her life and since that day she'd never taken advantage of a single moment. That lasting gratitude helped keep Lyn in check of her emotions.
The man in front of her deepened his frown.
"There has to be a way other than…" Lyn closed her mouth and pursed her lips, dropping her hand to her side.
Banachek looked saddened. He knew the gravity of what such a procedure could do to her. "I'm sure it's the last thing anyone would suggest, Su—"
"Don't." She interrupted. "I don't need reassurances." Lyn couldn't prevent the heavy spill of emotion from entering her voice as she closed her eyes. Her brows knitted together. "I need... another way."
She stared at him for an answer. The best he offered was: "Someone will find one."
Lyn pursed her lips and turned to the window, the dying light of the sun warmed her skin. Clouds streaking the sky were flushed a scarlet pink.
"The last thing we wanted was to be stuck in a box," Lyn whispered.
"If we had more time—"
"Don't we all?" Lyn asked. Her fingernails dug the fleshy mounds of her palms. "But, there's no point in wishing that anymore." She relaxed her fist and turned her face to her shoulder.
"What's going to happen to you?" she asked.
He mulled over that. "Retire, maybe." He didn't sound confident with his answer. Or happy.
That'd make the two of them.
Lyn knew Sector Seven meant more than a career holder to him. It was his livelihood— his legacy. The countless hours he'd devoted to managing the most crucial part of this covert branch have amounted to a definitive end without a satisfying takeaway.
"I'm sorry, Thomas," Lyn said, and though her voice sounded hollow, she meant it. "I wish there was something I could do."
"the only thing you can do is move forward."
She heard a rustle of his clothes and then his shoes tapping against the vinyl flooring. Turning around slowly, she saw him standing a foot behind her. Banachek held out his palm and waited.
Air pushed through her nose. Her hands reached around her neck and with a clink, the ball chain of her dog tags slipped over her head and she lowered them into his palm. She watched his fingers close over them, forever sealed away. After this evening— like him— she'd never see them again.
In exchange, Banachek stowed the S7 ID tags into his inner breast pocket and pulled out a different pair. They hung off his fingertips, swaying. The dying sun's rays were caught on their reflective aluminum sides.
He didn't say a word and she opened her hand.
As Lyn felt the weight of metal ease into her palm, she supposed he didn't need to.
"How do I move forward?" she asked.
The man merely turned his head in the direction of her bed, to the black duffel he'd delivered there when she invited him into the room. The zipper was open revealing the folded articles of her ACU.
His smile was wan. "You go where you're needed."
-.-.-.-
Nellis Air Base, Nevada
October 30th, 2007
0053 hours
The night sky had descended upon them, ever clearer in its viewing.
Optimus Prime was standing there for hours, his gaze lifted to the black void, surveying the old and new suns from a vantage point, several light years away. Once he stabilized Jazz, Ratchet decided to join him. Bumblebee and Ironhide were commiserating, another word for complaining, but he wasn't going to have any of it. There was enough negativity weighing him down.
Security cameras mounted on the outside walls swiveled in their mounts, lenses trained on him as he approached behind the taller mech.
"How is he?" Optimus asked softly, his back still to him; the undertone of worry ever-present.
"Automatic repair and weapon systems will be down for some time since his internal reactors have malfunctioned. His frame suffers seventeen mesh wounds and lost eighty percent of his hydraulic fluid reserve as a result. Both lower stabilizers are warped. With these damages, Jazz will require a full overhaul." Ratchet paused, took an intake, but in that moment of wordlessness, the silence was deafening. Then, he added, "This isn't your fault."
His leader lowered his gaze to the ground in response.
"Have I changed, Ratchet?"
The CMO perked up in surprise; it made him wonder what had put such a notion into his mind.
"I know a great deal has happened but—" I'm not sure what you're asking. " — you've been acting no different, I think," Ratchet replied.
His gaze lingered for a moment longer on the ground as he rotated to face the medic.
"I feel different," he declared.
His brow plating unconsciously scrunched together. Ratchet felt concerned. "Perhaps, I can run a cursory diagnostic?"
Optimus acquiesced with a slight nod.
A green projection beamed out of his optics and scanned through Optimus' frame from helm to pede. A few kliks passed and the green beam blinked off.
"You are operating well within parameters," Ratchet announced. "No anomalies. Thankfully all the damage you sustained from Megatron can be patched within the next few cycles. I think you might be putting your processor through its paces, which is a good indicator that you shouldn't overwork yourself." Ratchet said pointedly. When it came to health, Ratchet couldn't be any more firm. It could be for that reason Optimus had never dismissed his advice.
"May I speak candidly, Prime?" Ratchet inquired.
Optimus inclined his helm. "Go on, Ratchet."
"Know I would never question your judgement and I believe you only do what's best on our behalf , but should the humans never return the Allspark to us, then this is an act of…" The word which came to mind was "war" but he refrained from using it. "Hostility, and not a promising start to a lasting alliance," Ratchet finished.
His leader considered this and stepped towards him. "Then, I will be equally candid."
Ratchet pushed down the flutter of anxiety upsetting his tanks. He ignored the feeling. He wanted to know what Optimus was thinking.
"Of course."
"The humans are Dutiful. Ambitious. Independent. These are strengths which, when unchecked, result in strife. Does this not sound familiar?" His slight smile appeared. "Who are we to lay judgement when their shortcomings reflect us? I understand that we have not been dealt favorable circumstances however, I have hope that an alliance is possible because humankind will realize we are not like the Decepticons. They — like us— can see reason."
"Then, do you think we will ever see it again?"
His leader's optics regained warmth. "Yes," Optimus said. "I do."
Ratchet rubbed his servos together, mauling on what he wanted to say before spitting it out. "You know, I've been hearing it. But, you had said that the humans have repossessed the Allspark, and its whereabouts are unknown. Unless, it's immediately nearby. I know Jazz had mentioned…That girl. Could it be her?"
At the mention, the mech's wholesome smile fell away and Optimus went still. Ratchet logged the reaction with a margin of narrowed optics.
"I do not doubt it," Optimus replied stiffly.
"Did it not bother you that she was so close?" Ratchet asked.
His leader's eyes developed an immeasurable distance. "No."
"Interesting. I've heard from Jazz — or my audials could be failing me— but I was convinced he'd said Megatron had released her..."
"It is true, but, what he had done was not a demonstration of mercy."
"Then, how did it happen?"
Prime's features took on a trace of uncertainty. His shoulder joints stiffened. "She... immobilized him."
Ratchet's optics shuddered, his chipper demeanor twisting into a thoughtful one. His processor played back that admission. It'd seem near impossible for a human to accomplish such a feat. Or perhaps, it wasn't a feat. Perhaps, it was just luck and the unwelcome meddling of their Allspark.