Prowl slowly sank onto the bare rack, feeling the edges of his CPU fading.
A somewhat irritating warning flashed in the bottom right of his optical field, and his vision was becoming blurred.
He barely had the strength to hold his head up, but refused to give in to unconsciousness.
He shivered badly and folded his arms across his midsection.
Prowl felt how high his body temperature was and was annoyed at the illogic.
All his joints and junctions ached terribly, and sharp pain went through him at random.
A queasy, gnawing sensation added geometrically to the discomfort.
Megatron had gotten the tactician back behind bars via the forcefield, but this time into a tiny cell of solid tritanium, including the door.
"There will be no escape this time, Autobot," the Decepticon sneered, before sealing the cell and deactivating the field.
Megatron turned to his most sensible Seeker.
"Thundercracker, I want you to observe the diseased Autobot. It would be inopportune not to gather what information we can.
Perhaps this virus can be re-worked to our advantage,"
The Decepticons had hesitantly returned, at Megatron's forceful prodding and assurances the virus was contained.
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Prowl reached slowly into a subspace pocket and studied the microcircuit.
It no longer contained the virus.
Prowl tried hard to concentrate.
If the master circuit was no longer active, it seemed likely the duplicates on Cybertron would simply eventually self-destruct.
The tactician forced himself to think clearly.
If this base were destroyed, all problems would be solved.
He'd not exposed any of the Decepticons, and he wouldn't expose any of the Autobots.
The virus would still be active within my body shell however,
Prowl said to himself, And if the Decepticons were to find a way to use it without endangering themselves...
Prowl shuddered.
His thoughts began to drift, and he struggled to drag them back.
He absently focused on his undamaged chrono and saw it was around mid-afternoon.
Plenty of sunshine, Prowl mused drowsily, And that's what we need on Cybertron...
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Thundercracker hesitantly sat in front of the screen that monitored the prisoner.
"Slagging hell," he cursed as the Autobot clutched his midsection.
He just didn't have it in him to watch another Transformer die.
Slowly and painfully at that.
The Seeker eyed him.
Thin Energon was beginning to leach from several junctions, and he was obviously having some difficulty staying online.
Thundercracker watched him weakly pass a hand over his chest, and realized for the first time the familiar red insignia was missing.
That one definitely has bearings of steel, he thought to himself.
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Prowl was regretful that he wouldn't be able to apologize in person for his recent behaviour.
He leaned his head on the wall, still clinging stubbornly to awareness, but it was slowly becoming a losing battle.
And I'll be leaving one heck of a mess too, he thought with a ghost of a smile, as he fuzzily watched the Energon from his upper body collect around his thigh components.
He ran a quick self-diagnostic while he still could, and found that Energon was also beginning to be forced back through his lines into his middle.
That explained the nausea and aching twinges.
That'll cause an even bigger mess, eventually, Prowl thought, swallowing hard.
"I hope you get that ingenious invention going Wheeljack," he whispered, to distract himself, "And that no one ever gives Ratchet as hard a time as I did that night,"
Prowl slowly let himself fall horizontal on the bench, shivering hard as he came into contact with it.
In his state the bare rack felt like a glacier.
With an effort that made his Energon pound, he dragged his legs up as well.
The tip of a door-panel just scraped the wall, and they were so painful and sensitive that it took a conscious effort not to make a sound.
Prowl recalled the horror he'd felt at seeing the symptoms played out on Cybertron; the Energon pouring from the non-sentient infected droids.
Strangely enough, suffering the same symptoms plus more, he felt no similar horror.
He could feel the pink fluid running from most junctions, dripping to the floor with an ominous regularity.
Ratchet would kill me for getting into this state, Prowl thought, managing a weak smile.
Prowl put hand to mouth as he coughed unexpectedly.
He squinted at the white palm, spattered with Energon.
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"We can't use this vaccine if it isn't effective!"
Jazz had begun bleeding from his shoulder junctions and hip-joints, mimicking the symptoms in Elita's data, and Ratchet was beside himself.
He flew back to the medbunk.
"Jazz! Speak to me!"
The saboteur slowly pulled himself to a sitting position.
"Man, I'm not deaf," he managed, "And I'm still in the land of the living,"
The medic stared at him.
There was no other bleeding that he could see, and Jazz was obviously lucid.
Wheeljack stepped up quietly beside him.
Ratchet exchanged a glance with the engineer.
They both dove for the automatic readings and ran an urgent diagnostic.
The antiviral agent was forcing the contagion back...and slowly destroying it.
"Jazz, the vaccine seems to be working, but I need you to keep calm," Ratchet said quickly.
Keep calm, he goes!
Jazz clapped hand to forehead, beyond the solar system and into deep space exasperated.
"You should talk man!"
Wheeljack snickered.
"Jazz, do you feel like you're going to be sick at all?"
"No man, why?"
Ratchet exchanged another look with Wheeljack.
"The agent will work as a vaccine...but...I still don't know if it will help Prowl," he said carefully.
"Oh Primus...why not?" Jazz whispered, chilled.
The medic spoke gently.
"Jazz, he may be too far gone by the time we get to him,"
He pointed out something on the data sheet that Jazz couldn't make head or tail of.
"This virus causes bleeding, as you've seen, but these projected symptoms for a sentient, living Transformer, go one further,"
He gave the saboteur a pained look.
"Jazz, when we consume Energon, it converts and goes into our systems.
There it cycles and becomes, well, blood, humans would probably call it.
We bleed the cycled Energon when we're wounded.
The virus causes the body's Energon to stop cycling, and begin haemorrhaging from all junctions.
At the end-stage the sufferer's system begins to reject its own Energon, and will forcefully start to bring it up,"
"Prowl'll bleed to death, throwing up cycled Energon...blood," Jazz surmised flatly.
And correctly.
He turned away for an astrotick.
He touched a shoulder, and stared at the bled Energon on his hand.
"Can't they just administer it as soon as he's freed?"
Jazz asked softly.
"No. We have to remove the infected Energon from his system first.
Then we need to get all this donor Energon into him, as fast as possible, before the agent goes in.
Otherwise it'll simply be destroyed by the virus already in his system,"
Ratchet sighed.
"The real danger is if Prowl starts bringing Energon up before he gets back here. Once that happens, the virus seems to progress very quickly as the system weakens...and eventually shuts down."
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Prowl weakly passed a hand over his face, and felt the warm wetness.
Energon was trickling from the corners of his optics.
He drew his knees up awkwardly, to try and ease the new raw throb from the edges of his damaged midsection.
Oh Jazz...now I have an idea of what I put you through, Prowl thought, hoping the saboteur would heal quickly and with a minimum of pain.
He'd talked himself into keeping a grip on his faculties, and it was working so far.
He was having trouble controlling the awful nauseous sensation though.
Prowl swallowed hard.
He felt instinctively that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.
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Thundercracker doggedly sat facing away from the cell screen, arms folded, his mind torturing him as he imagined what the Autobot was going through.
He started as the monitoring room door squealed open and despatched Astrotrain.
"What are you doing here?"
The Seeker growled.
The triplechanger gave him his arrogant grin.
"I volunteered."
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"It's vital you understand this," the medic said quietly, with a terminal-tingling seriousness to his tone.
"Once you come into contact with Prowl's electrofield, you will be immediately exposed to the virus,"
Ratchet had administered vaccinations to the rescue team Autobots, those who were going to come into physical contact with their second in command.
"He'll be bleeding badly, from most if not all, joints and junctions. Depending on how advanced it is, Prowl may already be bringing up Energon. If you are infected through contact -and I'm told you'll feel it- don't panic. The symptoms are not immediate, and the antiviral agent will drive them back,"
He gestured to Jazz as living proof.
The saboteur was still in isolation: Ratchet was taking no chances.
But as far as he could tell, the virus had been driven from Jazz's system.
The inoculated Autobots returned and joined the rescue team.
Optimus Prime looked the formidable group over.
He'd had to turn volunteers away just because of sheer numbers.
"All right Autobots, we've got the plan. You all know what to do. Operation: Recovery- let's roll."