Resonance

by Guardinthena

When Optimus Prime faces termination on the battlefield, Phage makes a desperate gamble to turn the tables on the Decepticons. Her plans go awry when she's taken hostage by Megatron, who believes she has the Matrix. Despite Decepticon concepts of hospitality, Phage objects to the claim that she has the sacred relic. What she does have and will not say, is Optimus Prime's spark.

14. Matrix

Authors Note: I want to start off by saying a great big thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favorited Resonance, it really means a lot to me to see other people enjoying the stories I have put so much time and love into writing. I would also like to take a moment to apologize for the year long hiatus. About a year ago from my last update, there was a medical issue that was discovered in my then 3yr old son that has changed my family's lives forever. During the same week that we discovered the issue, I also learned I was pregnant with my third child. Needless to say, the following year had had a great emotional and mental toll on me. As a result of having to adjust and come to terms with my sons lifelong medical issue, I lost the drive to work on my fanfics. I tried for awhile, I really did. I had a good chuck done for this chapter and the next but I just couldn't bring myself to finish it. Well, one year later I can say that my family is doing well and things have settled down.

I've missed this community and the friends I've made on the way and its been tearing me up that I dropped off the Earth so suddenly. More recently, I've made efforts to step back into writing and finish what I started, but let me just say trying to pick up on about thirty pages of written work, track down what was where (I have so many drafts) and figure out what was the most recent file on three different sources was a struggle, but here I am.

I hope you, the reader, will enjoy your return trip back to the universe of Transformers: Reactivation

Additional Notes: The song Prowl sings is an adaptation of 'Irish Solider Laddie'

---

The Autobot's brief respite died violently.

Chaos swiftly descended upon the Autobot extraction team as cannon fire exploded over their craniums and plunged the hallway into darkness. Super heated metal panels and liquefied glass rained down upon them, burning their frames and cooling near instantly while overhead, torn electrical cables sparked angrily with the will of hissing snakes. Startled screams and commands mingled with the angry screeching roar of the world blowing up all around them. In the confusion, Sea Spray seized Phage and rolled with her across the floor until they hit the nearest wall, tucked safe behind an engaged column.

"Ahrug!" Cried out the new combiner consciousness that was Phage and Optimus Prime against a sharp pain that tore through their back. They tried to lean away from the wall, their slim servos shaking as they went to reach behind themselves and then quickly forewent that when they realized the pain was from the sensitivity to their new shoulder door panels. They had barely made the connection between the two when Sea Spray splayed his servo across their chassis and shoved them back into the corner of the engaged column and the wall. The motion jarred the new sensitive joints again, making them flinch and the door wings to twitch incessantly. His bulk fell across them, shielding them in the tight space as Megatron's cannon fire pierced the darkness in wonton bursts of destruction.

Phage's voice hit an unbecoming shrill pitch as she demanded, "What are you doing?"

Sea Spray quickly took his servo off her searing, mercurial frame and snapped both his servos to either side of her, effectively boxing her in to her small corner as Megatron's bombardment carried on, illuminating the darkness briefly and playing all sorts of ill shades of colors across Sea Spray's frame. Gruffly, Sea Spray shot back, "I'm doing what I've been trained to do my whole life—Protect. And right now, that means protecting you. Now stay down!" Ordered Sea Spray, much to Optimus's chagrin. Prime was just of a mind to voice a complaint that he could protect himself and had to swallow it when, from across the hall, they heard Jetfire's voice pitching in rising panic.

"How is Megatron here?" Stealing a quick peek across the hall while her auxiliary air intakes labored from the reformat, Phage found that Jetfire and Jazz were parallel to their own position. "He should be in a Medical Bay after the battle with Optimus today!"

"Pitt if I know!" Jazz roared over the barrage. "He was supposed to be down for weeks!" There was a sudden lull in the bombardment and a particular, and very familiar, shrill hissing.

"What's that noise?" Worried Jetfire, voicing his concerns into the unsettling quiet that had abruptly stole over the hallway.

Jazz's face lit up like fireworks. "He's run his cannon into critical. Autobots –Return fire!"

"Something's seriously wrong!" Spike yelled as the Autobots moved as one to exchange fire. "If Megatron's at peak condition what about the rest of the 'Cons?"

"Frag!" Screamed Jazz, a double curse not just to the revelation, but as Megatron began his own wonton barrage yet again and sooner than anticipated. "Take cover!"

"I thought his cannon would have taken longer for a cool down!" Cried Jetfire as the over-sized mech tried to make himself as small and as flat as possible against the wall.

"It's Megatron, man!" Jazz replied. "Have you not been paying attention to your history lessons? He made himself a living weapon eons ago!"

"I don't understand!"

"He's got extra arsenal built in to his waist."

"What?!"

"We didn't account for this!" Spike shouted. "For any of this! What do we do, Jazz?" Pressed hard against his own engaged column, Jazz gnawed his bottom lip as he abused the integrity of the grip of his photon rifle. "Jazz!" Screamed Spike.

His attention snapped up. Sharply, Jazz commanded, "Hold him off until the Aerialbots show up!"

"Hold off Megatron?" Spike cried in alarm as the Autobots rallied to return fire in a lull of Megatron's bombardment. "Megatron on a rampage!"

"What other choice do we have, Spike!" Shouted Bumblebee, firing his own weapon until the barrel ran white hot.

From where he stood firing over Jazz's cranium, Jetfire thought he heard a crucial command that got drowned in the gunfire. "What was that, Jazz?"

"Nothing!" Jazz shouted as his photon rifle screamed from ceaseless use. "Just missing Prowl's input right about now!"

"What good would be his input in incoming weapon fire trajectories?" Jetfire shot back. "I know where it's all coming from!"

Jazz refused to reply and instead gave the tiniest shake of his cranium in the negative as he bit the inside of his lip in a stern, lopsided frown.

---

Location: The Ark, Oregon

Prowl stepped promptly out from Ratchet's office and reentered the hotbed of tension that riddled the Medbay. Within the matter of time it had taken Prowl to enter the Medbay and retrieve Wheeljack and Ratchet and rejoin the room, the injured Autobot forces heated discussion had dissolved into a full blown argument that boiled down to a few vital questions: Where was the Matrix?, what had been done with the Matrix?, and slanderous discussion of Phage's intent, purpose, and truthfulness. By the turn in the angry discussion, Prowl could pick out that the Autobots were being swayed by Cliffjumper's long held suspicions and, now with Mirage's account of the battle, logically, the Autobots were falling on Mirage's side, which only angered Sparkplug that the Autobots were questioning his once-niece at all.

"This isn't good." Murmured Wheeljack from behind him, and Prowl shifted marginally to catch a glimpse of the mech. "Last thing we need is to start dismantling each other." Wheeljack caught Prowl's optic and added, "Someone needs to take charge."

Prowl's thoughts raced with a speed few could match as he formulated plans and discarded them with equal measure. In nanokliks, he had plotted out potential scenarios to end the escalating tensions but realized something serious in the design of his plans...Jazz and Optimus Prime were not present to raise moral and unite their brothers-in-arms. A flare of social anxiety sparked in Prowl's chassis. All his carefully formulated plans fell apart, crumbling in his minds eye like so much rust. How was he going to handle this? How could he? What would Jazz do? The answer came to him abruptly...

"Prowl?" Prodded Ratchet carefully, noticing his tense frame. "Are you alright?"

Abruptly, Prowl cycled a deep breath through his systems, closed his optics, and then began to sing. The immediate reaction from Ratchet and Wheeljack at hand was one of flabbergast while they stared on, wide opticed and slack jawed. Of what he sang, Prowl had selected an old popular Iaconic marching song that began slow and built pace as it progressed. His smooth, rich vocals had an immediate effect. Arguments close at hand ceased instantaneously as craniums swiveled sharply around to account for the soothing croon of Prowl's voice, while those further back hushed and finally stopped completely. A trickle of surprised exclamations arose throughout the assembled mass: 'Prowl's singing!', 'He hasn't sung since Reactivation!', 'It's been an age before that!' and, 'Shh!'

"'Twas a morning in Jorn,

I was walking to Tyger Pax

When I heard a battle cry

From the mountains overhead

As I looked up in the sky

I saw an Iaconic soldier vorn

He looked at me right fearlessly and said:

Will ye stand in the band like a true Iaconic mech,

And go and fight the forces of Kaon?

Will ye march with Ul' Magnus to an Iaconic battlefield?

For tonight we go to free old Praxus!"

It was at this moment that Ratchet grasped what Prowl was doing and saw the opportunity to improve moral. He began keeping time with his servos as he moved around Prowl and began singing with him. He moved through the Autobot ranks encouraging them to join in as Prowl stood rusted to his place, optics closed, and singing. Wheeljack picked up immediately what the plan was about and added his voice to Prowl's and Ratchet's. A domino effect swiftly ensued. The rest of the gathered Autobot forces took up the old familiar marching song and added their voices to Prowl's, keeping time as they clapped or stomped their pedes, until the whole of the Medbay was echoing with the boisterous camaraderie spirit.

"Well said I to that soldier vorn

Won't you take me to your captain

T'would be my pride and joy

For to serve with you today.

My young cogsmech fell in Kalis

And my conjunx at Nova Point!"

Unto the noble captain I did say:

Will ye stand in the band like a true Iaconic mech,

And go and fight the forces of Kaon?

Will ye march with Ul' Magnus to an Iaconic battlefield?

For tonight we go to free old Praxus!

As we marched back from the field

In the shadow of the evening

With our banners flying low

To the memory of our terminated

We returned unto our homes

But without my soldier vorn

Yet I never will forget those words he said:

Will ye stand in the band like a true Iaconic mech,

And go and fight the forces of Kaon?

Will ye march with Ul' Magnus to an Iaconic battlefield?

For tonight we go to free old Praxus!"

As the old marching song came to a close, Prowl immediately followed it up with an old favored battle song that went by as many as three different names depending on which northern city-state of Cybertron one came from: Resistance at the Pass, as it was dubbed in Iacon, Terrors at the Pass, or Badland Terrors in Praxus and Nova Point respectfully. No matter the name, it honored the sacrifice and heroics of the forty Autobot soldiers that held off Decepticon ground forces at the Badland Pass, a key geographical point that allowed passage from Cybertron's southern territories into the north. Information had been bad that the Decepticons were going to take the longer route around the mountain range and attack further East, so Autobot forces had been drained to funnel them to Nova Point. The attack at the Pass had come as a shock. Of the small company left behind to defend the Pass, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been among them and the song glorified the Twins. Low on supplies and cogsmechs, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe took turns utilizing their rapid healing factors, and that they were twaned sparks, to serve as front line warriors while they were supported from a distance by the other thirty-eight . Their brand of gladiatorial savagery in defending the Pass had been of such ferocity, they had earned the title of the Badland Terrors evermore. For ten days they held the Pass, the Decepticon ground forces breaking on the cliffs like mercurial tides, until reinforcements could arrive. On the final day, as the sky began to shift in hue of promise of a sunrise, in the twilight of that fateful hour reinforcements arrived, led by Optimus Prime himself, to drive back the remaining tide. They had driven nonstop, no rest, forced march, to reach the Pass ahead of schedule.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker crooned and boisterously lifted their voices to Prowl's on the chorus of the battle song: "Oh, hail to the 'bots who held the Pass! Hail to the Badland Terrors! The gallant self sacrifice of the Terrors of the Pit, those two ol' gladiators!" And then promptly dissolved into uproarious laughter and jostling the mechs nearest them, basking in the glory and honor of the song dedicated to them from eons ago.

When the Terrors at the Pass came to an end, the Autobots crooned and cheered, demanding more, and another song Prowl gave them, now fully enveloped in the energy of old comrades and friends, old anxieties washed away. In the rowdy camaraderie spirit, he spied Grimlock and the Dinobots skulking in the back of the Medbay. His optic caught with Grimlock, tall and cross armed and stoic. A brute of an Earth forged barbarian by the standards of the elders from Cybertron. The challenge issued for dominance was lost. Grimlock recognized that, turned aside and disappeared from the Medbay, followed after quietly by his Dinobots.

Two cyber-hawks with one shot. Prowl could not help but smile as he barreled full on into another old battle song dedicated to the fall of the old Decepticon capitol, Kokulkar. When that song had come to a close, he had the whole of the Autobot forces crooning and whooping and laughing with zealous cheer.

With perhaps too much stealth, Wheeljack emerged from the mass of the Autobots as if he had materialized in space and gently jostled Prowl with a shoulder bump. "You did well." He muttered, his side panels flashing a soft blue.

Prowl could not hide the proud smile that had woven across his face. "Thank you." He returned in hushed tones, then demanded gently, quietly, "But where's Ratchet?"

Wheeljack jerked his cranium across the Medbay. "Inspecting Prime while everyone's distracted."

At the mention of their dire straights, Prowl slipped right back into business. "Has he found out why Optimus Prime's frame hasn't gone gunmetal gray?" Prowl inquired. "And, why are we whispering?"

"Do you want everyone else to find this out the same time as you? No, I didn't think so. As for Ratchet, do you think he can discern what's gone wrong with Prime's cold frame in the breem while you've kept everyone distracted?" Prowl gave Wheeljack a critical look that spoke volumes to what exactly he thought of Ratchet's skill level, to which Wheeljack threw up his servos in defeat. "Okay, yes, he has. Only because Ratchet's skills are legendary."

"Wheeljack. What did he find?"

Wheeljack's stance became pensive. "Weeee might have a larger problem than we realized."

"What do you mean?" Hissed Prowl.

Wheeljack glanced anxiously around. When he determined that every other Autobot was too busy chitchatting about the old days, he threw his arm around Prowl's shoulders and tugged the tall, slim mech down to his level, thumping Prowl's chassis with his other servo in an effort to feign the same air of comradeship as the rest. He spoke quickly and in hushed tones. "Ratchet figured it out in half a breem, actually. Optimus Prime's spark chamber doesn't show signs of burnout."

Prowl blinked as a wave of shock and then confusion flickered across his face. As Wheeljack spoke, Prowl's attention had been fixed on Ratchet as the doctor examined Prime's frame, when Prowl could glimpse him between the moving frames in the room, but it quickly shifted to Wheeljack beside him at the break of the surprising news. "A lack of burnout indicates that Optimus Prime's spark did not extinguish."

"Yeah."

"But then-" Prowl turned sharply on Wheejlack, his bright blue optics widening in alarm. "Phage has Optimus Prime's spark!"

"Keep your voice down!" Hissed Wheeljack. "Pretty brilliant of her right? I am thoroughly impressed. She couldn't stop the leakage from the beating Megatron had done on Prime, so -"

"So she extracted his spark." Concluded Prowl, nodding curtly along and his optics shining with the same round amazement as Wheeljack's. "An extraction would force the frame into stasis, seizing up all vital functions. It was rather brilliant, but dangerous. Did she raid Medbay before hitting the battlefield? How would she have had time?" Prowl puzzled more to himself than Wheeljack. Following along the train of thought, Prowl deduced the likeliest and most possible outcome. "If she had been watching the battle from Teletraan, she would not have had time to run to the Medbay, raid it for supplies, and rush out to the field." Prowl's inward reflection refocused outward on Wheeljack who still had his arm slung around Prowl's shoulders. "She doesn't have a shielded secondary chamber, does she?"

"Probably not." Said Wheeljack flippantly. "Why?"

"Oh, Primus." Murmured Prowl as he pulled a face and pinched the bridge of his olfactory between his digits. It took Wheeljack all of a nanoklik to follow Prowl's train of thought and come to the same conclusion as the mech. His face fell, same as Prowl, as the severity of the situation dawned on him.

"Frag." Wheeljack muttered. "She used herself to store Prime's spark!" Wheeljack took his arm back and rubbed at his battlemask. After a moment he said with a proud edge, "Gonna be honest, kid does well with a fire lit under her aft."

"Wheeljack! This is serious!"

"I know! But so was I! How many mechs can think that fast and that creatively on their pedes with Megatron barreling down on their position? Hah, I bet that list is very few."

"Your attempts to liven my mood are deplorable." Said Prowl, annoyed as he peeked out at Wheeljack over his digits. "With this new information, Mirage might not have seen the Matrix light after all. He could have seen the afterglow of Phage making the spark extraction."

"Logical."

"But if she has Prime's spark where's the Matrix?"

"No idea." Shrugged Wheeljack once again, helplessly.

"Lot of help you are." Bit Prowl quietly.

"I don't know what you want from me, I'm not a telepath and I'm not resonated to Phage or Optimus Prime, thank Primus. Can you imagine someone like me off the market? Aah...In all seriousness, my best guess about the Matrix is that Optimus Prime must have stored it somewhere for safekeeping."

Prowl's optics swiveled back to Wheeljack's and locked. "That would mean it's somewhere here in the Ark."

"Undoubtedly."

"Megatron's stolen it before..." Prowl continued to murmur as he worked through the conundrum at hand, "It would make sense, if Prime did." He admitted slowly. "Is Optimus weaker without the Matrix? I've never asked him before... Perhaps that's how Megatron bested him?"

"Err, perhaps?" Stalled Wheeljack anxiously as he did a quick shift from pede to pede.

Prowl did not seem to notice his bout of anxious energy and continued pondering aloud. "But where would Optimus Prime lock up the Matrix?"

Once more, Wheeljack shrugged helplessly. "Maybe we could make a scavenger-hunt-mini-quest out of it. Keep these restless blockheads busy that can still move about?"

"Really?" Remarked Prowl irritably. "I don't need to give Grimlock another idea to try and usurp power. I really wish they'd go back into their cave."

"Need them as bouncers right now."

"They're not doing that! That don't listen to orders!"

"Don't look at me, they hardly listen to me and Ratchet and only respected Prime!"

"Half the time! The other half is Grimlock trying to challenge him!"

"What's your point here, Prowl?"

"I just-Nothing. No point. I'm stressed."

"We all are."

"Wheeljack." Worry lines began to etch deeply onto Prowl's flexi-metal face as a sudden notion struck him.

"Hm?"

"Jazz needs to get Phage back here an age ago! Does she even know what happens when you try to house two sparks in the same chamber?"

Wheeljack's optics went wide. "Oh, frag." He cursed. "That hadn't crossed my processor!"

"How long does a resonance take to settle in?!"

"Twenty-four to forty-eight cycles, give or take." Announced Ratchet suddenly, making Prowl jump and then curse as Wheeljack quietly snickered and Ratchet tiredly gave him the once over.

"Why didn't you warn me!" Snipped Prowl to Wheeljack, embarrassed he had been taken unawares by Ratchet's arrival. Wheeljack just shook his cranium.

"Wanted to see your reaction."

Prowl grit his denta, swallowing the insult he wanted to throw and turned to address Ratchet. "When did you get here?"

"Just now." Ratchet replied deadpan as he cleaned his energon stained red servos down with a cloth.

"Wheeljack informed me of your find. Are you certain Phage extracted Optimus Prime's spark?"

"Absolutely. There is no other explanation for the frame's seizure in the gunmetal gray deterioration, well, except that he had the Matrix for millions of years. That did preserve his life during the New York fiasco and, would have been my suspicions here except..." rambled Ratchet into mute mutters before he snapped back to the topic at hand. "Eh, uh well, the lack of burnout says it all. Phage was the only one there, so..." Ratchet gave a one sided shoulder shrug as he finished cleaning his servos and subspaced the cloth. "By my estimate, Phage has less than twenty four hours before their sparks resonate, merge, and her body undergoes a reformat."

"You just said twenty-four to forty-eight cycles!" Snapped Prowl.

"Yes." Rebuked Ratchet tiredly. "Under normal circumstances. For mechs that already have an alt. She's a monoformer. A blank slate. The timetable is halved, if that. If Jazz and the extraction team haven't broken her out yet Megatron likely already knows what's happened."

Prowl began muttering under his breath and running his servos over his helm, but Wheeljack glared at Ratchet. Put off by his detached disposition, Wheeljack demanded, "Why are you so calm about this, Sunshine?"

Ratchet shrugged. "How am I suppose to feel, Jackie? I'm out of steam. I'm exhausted. I'm worn down. I have no team. I have a full company I have to repair and Optimus Prime's mangled frame I have to nearly reforge! What's one more medical emergency!"

"Alright, alright, Ratchet! Calm down!"

But Ratchet would not calm down. The longer he went on, the louder he got. "No! Do any of you have any idea the procedure I'm going to have to go through, on-my-own, to reverse a resonance and a reformat? Do you? Severing a resonance is a tedious and life-threatening procedure alone! A reformat? That's the job of an entire fragging team! I'd chew Phage a new one if not for the damn fragging circumstances!"

"Ratchet!"

"I'm honestly shocked Megatron hasn't comm'd us already! Hook would be way in over his cranium to deal with a situation like that!"

"We captured the Constructicons during the battle." Wheeljack reminded, to which Ratchet just blew up further.

"If Hook was there he would be in over his cranium! And I doubt the Decepticon automated Repair Bay is equipped to deal with it either! You realize what that means Prowl? Do you? The 'Cons are gonna make the damn fragging call to negotiate for me again. Me! What the Pitt am I suppose to do?"

"Ratchet!" Prowl shouted, but the doctor only continued on his tirade and meltdown, nearly breaking into tears. His voice cracked as it became difficult to talk around the lump forming in his throat.

"What am I suppose to do? It's going to come down to a call—us or Phage. I have to try to repair everyone the best I can before then, and then when you ship me off to the Decepticon Seabase you know they won't turn me back over. Megatron's done it before and—and..."

"Ratchet." Prowl stressed firmly, seizing the doctor by both his shoulders and giving him a firm shake. "I will not turn you over to the Decepticons."

"But Phage-" began Ratchet with a raw edge and a far away, stressed look that told volumes of his underlying trauma.

"Jazz. Will Bring. Her back." Clipped Prowl. "Do you understand? I will not trade you over to the Decepticons. Jazz is bringing Phage back. Why don't you take a seat for a moment and gather yourself, doctor." Ratchet nodded mutely as Prowl patted his shoulder and began to hand him off to Wheeljack, but the inventor pointed behind Prowl sheepishly.

"Err, Prowl." It was then that Prowl and Ratchet realized, too late, that the whole of the Medbay was eerily quiet.

"What resonance?" Cut Sideswipe's clear and worried voice through the silence. Prowl turned to find the whole of the Autobot forces staring back at them in varying levels of stunned silence, most of all Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's. The red Lamborghini brother glanced worriedly from Sunstreaker and back to Ratchet. "Ratchet. What resonance?" And he scoffed, an odd bit of worry wrinkling his optical ridges. "Phage isn't resonated to anyone."

Ratchet stared blankly back, mouth cut open as it dawned on the doctor he'd just launched into a tirade and exposed personal medical information to everyone within hearing range. Within a nanoklik, Ratchet had become a gaping statue of his former self. In a moment, Prowl seized action. He stepped up, squaring off his shoulders and falling into commanding military stance. Time to save Ratchet's blunder by turning the script around that it was a need-to-know situation, because it was. "Autobots." Prowl began strongly. "The situation at servo is more dire than expected. Phage's extraction is much more critical than we realized. Ratchet has determined why Optimus Prime's frame seized the deterioration before it could hit gunmetal grey. On the battlefield..." And Prowl elaborated the situation as best he understood it. When he had finished the Medbay had gone deathly quiet. The Twins had become withdrawn and brooding by the end, a stark contrast to just a short while ago. Prowl glanced about, found Trailbreaker, and concluded, "I believe this concludes the mystery of Mirage's claim that he saw Phage subspace the Matrix." His attention shifted from the lumbering Trailbreaker and refocused on the sleek Mirage. "You must have seen the afterglow of Prime's spark, Mirage, and not the Matrix. Therefore, neither you were lying, nor Phage."

"But then where's the Matrix?" Questioned Trailbreaker.

Prowl fully expected the question and said quickly, "It is likely Optimus stored it for safekeeping."

"Without telling us?" Jumped in Cliffjumper as the red minibot forced his way between the legs of the taller 'bots to the front of the audience. The red horned minibot looked and sounded rightly putt off. "Why wouldn't Optimus tell high rank his plan? Why leave us in the dark?"

"I-" began Prowl but he faltered to answer straight away and Cliffjumper seized on that moment's hesitance.

"If he didn't tell us, the Autobot Officers, why wouldn't he tell you? Third in command?"

Finally, Prowl fell not just into silence, but a frown. Hound and Mirage were only too quick to jump back into the discussion. "The spark extraction does not explain why I smelt Matrix energy all over Phage when I went to help extract her from the battlefield." Reminded Hound.

"Or that I did detect a spike of the Matrix energy on my radar before it vanished. She had it, Prowl. I'm telling you. That's why I took sights off the Seekers. It was a blip on my radar. I quickly adjusted my sights and that's what I saw. The glow."

"Then our conundrum stands, as it seems." Announced Trailbreaker carefully.

"Functionally." Argued Cliffjumper huffily. "Phage and Mirage can't both be telling the truth."

"You'd believe Phage over me?" Snapped Mirage. "She's been a security risk for years."

"And not once in that time has she done anything wrong!" Sparkplug finally erupted into the mix. "She's been trying to adjust to her new life, having to relearn everything from color to how to care for herself, for pete's sake! You all keep seeming to forget that! Your stuck on what you're all capable of. You keep heckling her to assimlate, adjust, hurry up, and everything in-between. She's done better than most could and still it isn't enough for any of you."

"That's not entirely fair, Sparkplug." Prowl said somberly. "There is a lot of wild variables at play. We can never be too careful."

Sparkplug's ruddy face crumpled into a deep frown. "If you're too careful you're going to drive her away for good. Then what?"

Demurred by Sparkplug's defense, Cliffjumper shifted his weight from pede to pede and commented, "That all may be true, but it doesn't change the fact, Sparkplug, that she could be a sleeper agent for the Lazalt."

"You're all paranoid."

"You would be too if you'd gone through the slag we have." Cliffjumper bit back. "For all we know the Lazalt are waiting to activate her and now would be an opportune time. She's stolen the Matrix and now you're telling me she has Prime's spark too? Fellow Autobots, I say we are on the verge of destruction!"

"Please." Puffed Trailbreaker as he crossed his arms and leaned back on the heels of his pedes.

"Then what's the story, Trailbreaker. Your duty is security. What you got?"

Desperately, Trailbreaker shook his cranium and glanced at Prowl for help. "Alright! Stop! Silence! Let me think!" Prowl demanded as he raised his servos for silence. The Autobot veterans obeyed, all optics intent on him as he tried to focus on the logical conundrum. He rubbed his chin and closed his optics as he lost himself in thought. His unique brain module went back over the events of the battle, carefully and methodically nitpicking it apart. When he asked for accounts of the battlefield his questions were answered in full. When he was satisfied by all the information everyone could give, Prowl quietly digested the reports to grasp the larger image. Snipers on the mountainside noticed Phage first, reported her to the ground force. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Ironhide had answered the call and moved to intercept Megatron. Phage reached the goal point –Optimus Prime. Ratchet confirmed he had tried to help her over the comms for repairs. Lost connection when Soundwave jammed comms. Keeping sight on her was difficult as Seekers bombarded the mountainside where they were taking shelter. During the tense defense, Mirage had moved to keep 'Cons off her position by sniping. Saw the glow of the Matrix before it disappeared. Then came the chase. The impromptu game of football, and loss. When he had heard everything, Prowl's train of thought, simplified, went something like this:

1. Phage was not a liar.

2. Phage told Trailbreaker she did not have the Matrix.

3. Mirage claims he saw Phage subspace the Matrix.

4. Paradox. See points one through two.

5. Mirage was a highly decorated Autobot officer with no reason to lie about the matter. Yet, paradoxically, as a spy, his job demanded that he lie.

6. Phage was not a liar, but has disregarded strong advice in the past such as to not phase and was found to be doing so anyway. Spike claimed because she wanted to be of use.

7. Mirage was not spying nor infiltrating. He was not lying.

8. Phage will not lie on principle, but, as Optimus Prime, bends the truth.

9. Possibility: Mirage misinterpreted what he saw. Possibility: Phage was exploiting a verbal loophole—to what end, unknown.

10. What was the point of Phage subspacing the Matrix, making a show of fleeing, and panicking when telling Trailbreaker she didn't have the Matrix? Review points 1, 2, and 9.

Conclusion, see points one, two, seven and nine.

Attempting to get into Phage's position on the battlefield, really understand what could have been going on through her mental processes, Prowl's attention turned to the past as a crucial memory jumped out at him from his databanks.

---

Calm.

Prowl found himself sequestered within the Recreation Room within the Ark. The thrum of the familiar energies racing through the defunct starship gave him peace of mind that everything was functioning correctly and security was a guarantee. All the chaos of his life existed beyond those walls, beyond the tons of rock that comprised the volcano. All the Decepticon plotting and schemes existed out there, all the crazy humans and the backwater world they lived on was out there. Within the Ark, all was well. The Autobots were safe. More importantly, all was quiet. There was a breath of peace. And before him a war game with Radar Witwicky. Within recent days, Prowl had taken up teaching his human ward how to play the Cybertronian equivalent of chess and the retired military intelligence officer was proving to be quite the fast learner. The silver haired veteran took his time studying the holographic board as he deliberated on what piece to move. Their current session of Go was well into the first twenty minutes of play.

"Need I remind you of which pieces perform what functions?" Teased Prowl lightly.

A frown flickered across Radar's mouth briefly before disappearing. "No, you troll." Radar grumbled snarkily, before inputting a command into the holotable to move one of his many pieces on the middle plane of the multi-tiered holodisplay.

"Will you teach me?" Prowl's attention broke from the holographic board and swooped across the Rec Room to the nearby couches. Alicean Witwicky had set up there early on and had been quietly watching their game with rapt attention. Wide eyed with curiosity and genuine interest, her eyes jumped pleadingly from Prowl to her father and back. "I want to learn." She insisted as she brushed a strand of her long brown locks out of her face and back behind her ear.

"It's like chess, Allie." Remarked Radar with his characteristic authoritative tone and husky edge. He did not pay his daughter attention beyond a dismissive wave of his hand. "Only more complicated."

"I see that." Alicean replied earnestly. "But I want to learn, Dad."

Radar paid close attention as Prowl made his move and began to take his own turn. "When do you ever play chess." Challenged Radar. "You should really learn that before this. Get the basics."

"Get the basics?" Echoed Prowl, nearly chortling, as he made his next move. "Go is the basics."

"For Cybertronians." Rebutted Radar moodily. "I can imagine a game such as Go is basic for your kind, but for humans it would be best to start the poor kid off with chess."

Prowl's attention flickered to Alicean as the teenager inflated with self righteous anger at the slight dealt at her intelligence, however indirect. She pouted, her eyebrows crinkling together. "I'd play chess if you'd taught me. We have that beautiful set back at the house, dad. Wouldn't it be nice? The two of us playing against one another? We already play multi on Empire Earth and other games."

Radar visibly paused, a fond smile touching his mouth as he gave his full attention to his daughter. "You think you can match wits with me, do you? Play a few strategy games and suddenly your ego's gotten so big now that you're challenging your ol' dad, hm? Funny thing that, considering you're still chicken to take me on in verses." Alicean seemed to shrink in on herself, a deer in the headlights look filling the whole of her face. Radar laughed at her reaction and said, "I could teach you if you really wanted too."

She was just brightening up when Prowl decided to butt in on their conversation. "Do you mean teach her chess or teach her Go? If you meant Go, it would be better if I taught her. Can't have an apprentice teaching a newcomer."

"I was talking about chess and you know that. You're measly efforts to throw off my concentration are not going to work."

"If you say so."

"What's the goal of Go?" Asked Alicean suddenly after Prowl and Radar had gone a few turns in silence. Radar became noticeably annoyed by the constant interruptions and snapped off, "To win, Alicean."

"Obviously." Alicean came back. "That's not what I was asking."

"What were you asking, Alicean?" Inquired Prowl calmly and patiently, his vocals soothing to the two tempers of his organic counterparts.

"The point of any game is to win, but what's the story? The goal?"

"To defeat your opponent, Alicean." Griped Radar. "You're not talking sense."

"I am talking sense. Take chess for instance, one goal is to get the pawn across and promote it. But-"

"I thought you didn't know how to play chess, Allie."

"I know the premise, dad." Sighed Alicean. "Also, Graham got into the chess club."

"Aha." Teased Radar as he finally took his eyes off the holotable. "The plot thickens."

"Shush, dad. It's not like that. Graham goes on about chess all the time now, so, I'm curious."

"Well," interjected Prowl, "Go does have a similar rule for promoting pieces."

"Does it make more sense than Chess?"

"Why does the Promotion rule make no sense to you Allie?" Asked her father in exasperation.

"Because the piece should have to make it across the board behind enemy lines and survive the trip back to be promoted by the king."

She had both Prowl and Radar's full attention. Prowl sat quietly, observing the father and daughter relationship as they argued over the promotion rule. "First, that would make the game unnecessarily difficult. Secondly, you're thinking too literally about the game, Alicean." Said Radar.

"But that's how it works in real life."

"It's a game, Alicean."

"That's suppose to help build logic."

"And it does."

"But-"

"You want realism, Allie? Imagine for a moment that a squadron is out in the field, taking heavy fire, and the leader of the squadron dies. What happens? The next highest rank is essentially promoted. On the field. No one is going to call a time out so they can march back to base to get a promotion. It happens then. Instantly. On the field."

"Oooh." Said Alicean. "Oh! That...makes so much more sense."

"Good." Said Radar with finality, then suddenly added, "You know what. When we get home I'm going to sit you down and teach you. You want to play chess by a complicated promoting rule, I'll show you how difficult that is."

"Actually," remarked Prowl, "the promotion rule in Go works both of those ways."

"For fucks sake, Prowl." Grumbled off Radar. All Prowl could offer was an unapologetic shrug.

Alicean observed her father and Prowl for a moment before asking Prowl directly, "Is there a story in Go?"

"I am uncertain what you keep trying to ask, Alicean. Go is meant to teach tactics and sharpen awareness in combat. It operates on multiple levels to account for Seekers and underground forces. Again, it is meant to teach a valuable lesson to the players that on a real battlefield, there are multiple fronts to be aware of at all times."

"Okay that's not-" began Alicean, frustrated, before she cut herself off by huffing and tried again. "Is the story of chess and Go about war or spy games?" She asked. Prowl broke his attention from the holographic game board and focused his attention fully on the teenage human once again. With genuine interest and enduring patience, he asked, "What do you mean?"

Alicean pursed her lips as she spoke her thoughts aloud. "I like to imagine that each piece is an individual. Every pawn a scout or spy. That's how it seems to me, because each pawn is attempting to make it behind enemy lines, steal enemy intel, or assassinate key players or whatever their mission given to them by the general -"

"There is no general piece." Interjected Radar.

"Daaaad." Exclaimed Alicean in surprise. "You're the general. The player. Attempting to protect the crown and country. I thought that was obvious. You're pitting your wits against Prowl, whose commanding his forces to out best your strategy." Shock took Radar and Prowl as both had a moment of revelation to reevaluate the game they were playing at hand.

"She's...not wrong." Prowl admitted quietly. "It's strange...I've never seen it that way before. I always just viewed it as a learning tool."

"But as I was saying," Alicean pressed on, undeterred and emboldened by the pleasant surprise of her elders, "The pawns have to get to the other side to perform their mission then get promoted—it's as though the story the game is trying to tell is spy tactics. And because each pawn is a scout or spy or whatever the term, they aren't communicating with the other pawns or pieces, because it could jeopardize their mission or put the other pawns in danger. Right? That's how military stuff goes, dad? Vital intel is told only to those that need to know. Obviously generals pass down orders to move troops where, but then there are those kinds of orders only a handful know. The very important stuff. I feel like chess is telling that story. And that's what I was asking, is chess and Go telling that kind of story? The story of a few individuals carrying out vastly important orders? Is it just about war? Or spy games. Or is there some other story element I'm not aware of? What's the history?" There was too long a stretch of silence that befell after her rambling in which both Radar and Prowl were staring at her critically. Alicean ducked her head and said quietly, "I'm over thinking things again, aren't I?"

Gradually, Radar broke into a warm smile. "You are, Sugar, but in a good way. Chess doesn't have an explicit story, and perhaps that's the whole point of chess. It gives you the freedom to inject your own perspective as you play. I do like your take on it. Spy games. Hm. Makes an old game fresh. ...However, you are looking at it too individualistic. War is about teamwork. It cannot be won by any one individual. Perhaps it would make a little more sense to you if you adjusted your view."

"How?"

"Don't look at the pawns as individuals. Look as each pawn representing a team. A squad. Or an army. Moving one pawn doesn't mean I'm moving just one individual—it could be whole armies moving in to face off against the enemies, the horse the cavalry to follow up and sweep up the mess, and so on."

"Oh." Said Alicean, understanding but still with the perplexed, stubborn frown that would not melt from her face. "But, that still doesn't make sense, Dad."

"Why not?" He challenged.

"Because you can't have an army of towers. Or Queens. Or Kings for that matter."

Prowl attempted, and poorly, to keep the bout of laughter inside and failed. As he spluttered and chortled into his servo, Radar shook his head and snapped off, "Alright smartass. You have two choices, leave or stay quiet for the remainder of the game." Alicean poorly attempted to hide her cheeky smile as she ducked her head, lips tight, as she found renewed interest in the paper and pencil previously forgotten in her lap.

---

"War games!" Murmured Prowl to himself. "That's it!" Enlightenment struck Prowl. He broke his characteristic critical thinkers stance, optics round and bright as he looked around at the tense faces of his fellow Autobots.

"War games?" Asked a bemused Cliffjumper, arms crossed, at the forefront of the group.

"She was luring Megatron away." Prowl said softly with an edge of growing excitement.

Sideswipe's face screwed up. "Luring him away? From what?" He scoffed. "Prime's frame? What sense does that make?"

"Everything." Prowl said, looking around to Optimus Prime's mangled frame. "That's the key here, isn't it?"

"I don't follow." Admitted Trailbreaker.

"Neither do I." Concurred Cliffjumper, who was joined in by a number of other Autobots nodding or mumbling agreement.

"You have to get into Phage's mindset. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, you've been her bodyguards, amuse me. What's she like?"

"Spontaneous." Sideswipe supplied, puzzled by the request. "Does things on a whim..."

"Defensive and bitchy."

Sideswipe rolled his optics. "To you, because you're an aft."

"And you're not?" Sunstreaker scoffed. "Please."

"She's creative, like Jazz, and a critical thinker." Prowl cut in before the Twins could go at each other. "It's that special brand of spontaneous genius that earns him so many victories. But Phage can be chaotic. Phage, like Alicean, is chaotic. She fly's on the edge of her seat. It makes her unpredictable and that makes her dangerous. Today is the perfect example of that. No one expected her to be on the battlefield. She's a plain-loaded monoformer, what affect could she have?"

"A lot, apparently." Grumbled Cliffjumper.

"And she knew that. She knew she couldn't hold her own and she was pulling that everyone would ignore her because she wasn't a threat. It worked. It got her to Prime."

"She had us." Pouted Sideswipe.

"Not the point here." Prowl clipped brusquely, his servo slicing through the air to empathize his declaration. "The point here is, where is the Matrix?" He implored to the whole of the Medbay, locking optics with each Autobot gathered in turn as he spread his servos wide. "Phage doesn't have it."

"But-" interjected Mirage.

"She doesn't have it." Prowl stressed. "She empathized that with Trailbreaker. And we know that Phage does not lie on principle. Same as Optimus Prime. However, like Optimus, how often has Prime had to bend the truth to protect all of us? With that question in mind, how often has Phage, or Alicean, done the same?"

"You mean how often did she enjoy being a smartaft?" Corrected Sunstreaker from where he stood near the back of the assembled Autobots, standing next to his brother, arms crossed. "Often enough."

Trailbreaker's mouth crumpled into a confused frown. "You're...saying she wasn't lying about having the Matrix."

"Precisely. She doesn't have it. Key word. But did you ask her if she took the Matrix?"

More than half the Autobots gathered pulled varying faces of disgruntlement. Cliffjumper was the most vocal. "What's the difference?"

"A verbal world of difference." Prowl exclaimed. "She could have taken it but didn't have it on her. Thereby, she wasn't lying."

"That's slag." Cliffjumper bit.

"Optimus Prime has done the same. And we've praised him for it. So, listen." Prowl demanded. "What if, hear me out, what if Phage meant to tell Trailbreaker more but didn't have the opportunity before they were hit? Or, what if, she wasn't planning on telling Trailbreaker more because it had the potential of putting him in danger?"

"Why in the Pitt would that put him in danger? If she had the Matrix she should have said so!" Snapped Cliffjumper.

"Think, Cliff!" Prowl snipped. "How many delicate missions have you been on or involved with where you didn't dare to tell another spark, or were unable to do so because of orders? Or because you were afraid the information would put them in harms way?" Cliffjumper's features began to soften as he reflected back. Prowl pressed on. "Imagine if the situation today went completely sideways. Imagine if the Decepticons didn't retreat with Phage. Imagine if Megatron pressed his advantage and overwhelmed us. If Phage could not produce the Matrix, who would he go after next?"

"Everyone she came into contact with on the battlefield."

"Precisely. That's where Megatron would start. And when no one could produce it then, he'd move on to the next step. So, let's assume that Phage didn't have the opportunity to tell Trailbreaker, or that she was hoping she was protecting him and everyone else by not telling him. Let's assume that she's bending the truth, not lying by admitting she didn't have the Matrix on her but never denied that she didn't take it."

"For frags sake." Grumbled Cliffjumper under his breath, then loudly, "Have it, doesn't have it, what's it matter. She took it. She subspaced it. If it's in her subspace pocket then she has it and she lied. It's not smart. She's being stupid."

"What does any of this have to do with your theory that she was luring Megatron away?" Asked Trailbreaker pointedly in the hopes of drawing the conversation back around to its roots.

"Isn't it obvious by now? The moment she ran was the moment she became the decoy. Don't you see? She purposely made herself look like a target to draw Megatron's attention away from one thing- Optimus Prime's cold frame."

"I think you finally need your brain module scanned, Prowl." Chuckled Wheeljack. "That theory is ridiculous! You're suggesting that she left the Matrix on Prime's frame? Prime's frame that Megatron tore through the chassis of to find a Matrix that wasn't there?"

"And being a decoy doesn't make sense when I saw her subspace the Matrix!" Snapped Mirage moodily.

Outside the collective ring of arguing Autobots where he had been left to sulk, Ratchet jerked too attention, his optics widening in brilliant revelation. "Phage is a damn genius."

Ratchet had spoken louder than he realized, his statement sounding off with the abrupt sharpness of a gun in the sudden lapse of conversation. Numerous craniums snapped around in Ratchet's direction. Wheeljack stood near at hand, arms crossed, and remarked quizzically, "What was that, Sunshine?"

Blind to the sudden attention but gobsmacked in his private revelation, Ratchet lifted his cranium off his chassis and fixed his gaze on Wheeljack and repeated with the same air of disbelief, "She's a genius."

Wheeljack canted his cranium, expression worried and curious. A sympathy mirrored on multiple Autobot faces as they watched Ratchet push off the medberth he had been leaning against. The mech moved as though he were coming out of a stupor. He blinked repeatedly and kept glancing around his own Medbay as if he had lost his bearings.

"Ratchet?" Began Wheeljack cautiously, but the medic abruptly sprang into action. Having located his goal, Ratchet zigzagged through the assembled Autobots, pushing and shoving where he needed to, until he found his way back to Optimus Prime's cold frame. He spouted off in an increasingly feverish excitement as he went. "She's brilliant! Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

Prowl shoved his way through the rank of Autobots so he could be one of the first to follow close behind the raving doctor, Prowl's own face reflecting his growing excitement. "You figured out Phage's trick?"

A hopeful grin kept threatening to crack across Ratchet's face, but he kept it reeled in, if barely. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! Phage doesn't lie, Mirage saw her subspace it, Phage acting a decoy, she took Prime's spark but Hound smelt Matrix energy on her?—Haha! What else could it be? There's only one possible answer and if it isn't this -I don't know what!"

"What is what?" Asked Sideswipe on behalf of everyone as half the Autobots in Medbay trailed behind, while the others gazed on from the medberths they were bedridden too.

"Think about it, Sideswipe! She's my assistant!" Clipped Ratchet excitedly as he reached Optimus Prime's mangled corpse. His steady servos were a farce to the anxious energy coursing through his systems as Ratchet hurriedly took Optimus Prime's wrist and began accessing the comm-link embedded in the arm. "We just maintenance Optimus for his checkup yesterday! She must have remembered!"

"Remembered what?" Echoed Prowl, desperate for the reveal.

"Stand back!" Warned Ratchet once, waving a servo absently behind him as the CMO finished typing the string of code into the comm-link. The assembled Autobots all leapt back at the command and not a nanoklik too soon, as Optimus Prime's trailer materialized from subspace. The Autobots stared, a mixture between confusion and dawning excitement. Mirage was of the first half of the crowd, perplexed and rapidly growing annoyed. His optical ridges sloped to meet in the middle of his forehead. "Phage was no where near Prime's trailer."

Ratchet dropped Optimus Prime's arm and whirled around. "She didn't have to be! Don't you get it yet? That was the trick!" In three wide steps Ratchet was at the doors to Prime's trailer. His digits hastily assessed an entry panel to enter a code to unlock the doors as he hurriedly rambled on. "She only needed access to Optimus Prime! Medical officers, such as myself, have a special code that bypasses subspace pocket security firewalls to be used in case of emergencies! Say if, I have a mech that's dropped on my medberth that's in stasis and can't hand over a sensitive file for a mission- then I would use my backdoor pass code to pull it from his subspace!"

"Phage reversed the application!" Prowl concluded for Ratchet, breaking down what the doctor had just explained to other perplexed Autobots in the medbay, such as the bewildered Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. "Everyone was telling the truth! Phage, Mirage and Trailbreaker! Phage knew if she took the Matrix Megatron would have easily run her down. So after extracting Optimus Prime's spark into her own for safe keeping, she must have removed the Matrix from the Prime, used his com-link to enter the code-"

"-and stashed it in his subspace pocket that was tied to his trailer!" Finished Ratchet as he flew open the doors to the trailer with a flourish.

For all of the wonder of Ratchet's build up, how nicely and easily all the pieces finally clicked together and fell neatly into place, Prowl could not imagine the disappointment that would have ripped through the Autobot ranks if Ratchet's eureka moment was a bust. Prowl felt himself poised on the edge of a precipice, hoping against all odds that luck would fall on the right side of things. When the trailer doors flew open, Prowl had imagined, hoped even, that there would be a brilliant liberty blue pulse from the Matrix, or simply that its divine light would flood from the darkness of the trailer. Instead, there was none of that. No divine moment of brilliance for the Matrix to announce itself in all its glory.

Instead, ancient sapphire bright optics of the gathered Autobot forces raked over the trailers interior. Hungrily devouring every detail in their thirst to discern the barest shape of the Matrix. Within the four walls they were instead greeted by the customary shadows that filled the trailer and the familiar gentle hum and whirl of the interior machinery at play. In the center of it all there was the six-wheeler drone Optimus Prime had fondly named Roller, quiet and off-line. Nestled neatly within Roller's seat...was the Matrix. It's divine light dim, not boisterous, and yet somehow refined and mature.

It took Prowl too long to digest the beautiful yet simple shape of the Matrix. When he had, he vented heavily as he ran his servos over his face and up over his helm in utter relief and euphoria, grinning the widest smile he had in vorns. Meanwhile, from the back of the crowd, there came praises and emotional wails. Somewhere behind him, Prowl was certain he heard someone drop in reverent relief. And still, he distantly picked out Sideswipe from among the throng of rising voices crow for joy, "That's my femme!". And Sparkplug rubbing salt into Cliffjumper, "See? What did I say! Alicean has never beena threat!"

"Alright, Sparkplug." Cliffjper responded in meek relief. "Alright!"

In the center of it all, Ratchet had remained fixed in his pose when he had thrown open the doors to the trailer. It was not until Wheeljack slapped Ratchet wholeheartedly across the back, crooning boisterously as his side panels flashed and flared a brilliant blue, "Phage is my damn hero!" That Ratchet finally broke with the rest of the Autobots. His stance loosened, he stumbled from Wheeljack's hearty back slap and quickly caught himself by latching onto Prowl's arm. And still, oblivious that he had done any harm, Wheeljack dragged Ratchet and hauled him back upright, still expounding in delight, "I could kiss that femme! What an absolute stroke of genius! Sneaking the Matrix back to us by Prime's own trailer! I never would have thought of that! She deserves a damn raise! No, a medal! No, wait, a promotion! Frag it, all of it! She deserves all of it! Wouldn't you say so, Prowl?" It was at that moment that, finally, Wheeljack glanced at his comrades beside him and full stopped at the slack jawed horror dawning on Ratchet's face. "What's wrong with you, Sunshine?" Wheeljack nervously hit Ratchet's shoulder. "You should be excited! Instead you look like Simanzi part two was just announced..." Even as Prowl pulled a disgusted face at the mere suggestion of a second half of Simanzi could or ever would occur, Wheeljack squinted at Ratchet. "Are you crying?"

"He's going to destroy her."

"What?"

Ratchet shook his cranium to shake his stupor, then frantically glanced between Prowl and Wheeljack. "Megatron! If he realizes not that Phage deceived him but how, he would destroy her for the humiliation alone. He stood right over Optimus Prime, had the Matrix within reach, and couldn't claim it! Do you realize 'bots around here would make a song out of that in a spark pulse? I bet their composing lines right now! Megatron is going to endure eternal humiliation for Phage's trickery!"

"Oh, slag!" Said Wheeljack beneath his breath, as the same horror that had suddenly crept onto Ratchet's face stole onto his own. He turned his attention to the floor as the reality of the situation settled in. "He's going to mark her for a personal vendetta!"

"He's only had two, that I'm aware of." Stated Prowl with a decidedly detached air as the shock and yoyoing of emotions took its toll on him. "Megatron would terminate her slowly for this."

"I did not say terminate." Bit Ratchet suddenly as his flexi-metal face hardened. "I said destroy." Ratchet's features begrudgingly shifted into one of serious contemplation as he carried on. "Terminating Phage would be too quick for his liking, Prowl. I think, when Megatron realizes the deceit, her fate would be worse than simple termination. Phage will have caught his attention. She already has-but not like this. He likely viewed her as a...a pawn or tool perhaps. That likely changed today. Promoted if you will to the status of nuisance. A pest, even. But should he ever discover Phage pulled two deceits over him in one go, by saving Optimus Prime's life by extracting his spark into her in addition to this...Megatron would utterly destroy her."

"What's the difference?"

"It is a world of difference, Wheeljack. A fine line, but so very vast. Have you not heard the stories of brothers and sisters so utterly changed at Megatron's command, by shadowplay and Altihexed measures, that they are entirely different Cybertronians? I fear if Jazz does not get Phage back, and Megatron realizes what she's done, Phage will be gone. Dead to all of us. And who emerges after wearing her face-will be someone entirely different."

Wheeljack, Ratchet and Prowl were ripped inelegantly from their private conversation when Sideswipe's flippant tone rose above the crowd to nettle the three of them. "What are you lot doing standing around gossiping for?" Complained Sideswipe. "Grab the Matrix and revive Prime already!"

The Autobot officers glanced anxiously between the three of them and quietly decided to shelve their fears for awhile later as more pressing, immediate concerns demanded their attention.

"Can we do that?" Challenged Sunstreaker, who, as always, stood near at hand to his twin brother.

"Optimus just flaunts it around and it heals and revives. Why can't we?" Countered Sideswipe.

"Because we're not Prime's, you drone." Spat Sunstreaker.

"Who are you calling a drone?"

Ratchet sighed dramatically, desperately trying to ignore the Twins bickering as he rubbed at his forehead. "How does Phage put up with them as her guards?" The doctor mumbled.

"Sideswipe makes a point." Put in Prowl delicately as he extracted himself from his huddle with Ratchet and Wheeljack.

"I do?"

"Yes." Said Prowl as he began to tentatively inch his way forward into Prime's trailer. "We need the Matrix to expediate our situation. To heal everyone." He elaborated. "Including Optimus Prime."

Sideswipe canted his cranium in honest curiosity and confusion. "Prime's not gunmetal grey, though. Soo...what would happen if the Matrix restored his body? Would it just restore his frame? Would he regrow his cranium? What about his mind? More importantly, what about his spark? You said Phage has that. ...Can the Matrix, I don't know, summon sparks even if their not terminated? Even though she's using herself as storage?"

"Don't stress yourself thinking about it, Sideswipe." Sighed Ratchet. "Not even I have the answers to half those questions."

"But Prime's cranium..."

Ratchet's face went hard, as it did, when he was speaking seriously. "The Matrix completely reconstructs mechs as it heals, I don't see why it wouldn't do the same for Optimus Prime's cranium."

This only confused Sideswipe more. "What about his personality?"

"I don't know, Sideswipe." Sighed Ratchet in exasperation. "I guess. Yes? It doesn't matter in the end. I keep backups of everyone's brain modules. Lucky us Prime was maintenance yesterday."

To Prowl, the discussion was background noise as he crossed the threshold of the Prime's trailer. The uncertainty in his step and posture was palpable. When he had gone halfway to Roller, Prowl abruptly paused and glanced over his shoulder strut to Ratchet and asked suddenly, "Am...I suppose to take it or you?"

Ratchet's optical ridges shot up. "You're asking me that now?"

"You normally handle the Matrix."

"Oh, for Primus's sake! Hurry up and grab it or I will!" Complained Ratchet. "It's Prime's trailer, Prowl, not a Decepticon base!"

"Right. Of course." Muttered Prowl darkly. "Only Prime's trailer that's can transform between a transport, medical bay, command center or a battle station depending on what he needs it for." He took another step towards the Matrix when suddenly Roller's lights flashed on. Prowl tried one of his easy smiles. "Roller." He acknowledged the drone as he bent down. "Don't mind me. I just need your precious cargo- Hey!" The scout drone reversed deeper into the trailer. The sudden jarring motion set the Matrix to bouncing and clattering in Roller's seat as it did so. Prowl froze, his optics glancing anxiously around the walls around him to see if the trailer would transform into battle mode, and after a long nanoklik Prowl began to settle. In the meanwhile, Roller beeped back at him and Prowl tried to remain calm and nodded along. "Sorry I startled you, Roller."

The series of beeps and whistles that emitted from the drone came back rapid fire. Once more, Prowl nodded and said, "Yes there was a battle hours ago. No, I—Sure. Yes. I'll announce myself next time before entering. ...Yes, I do greatly appreciate that you did not set off the transformation sequence to change Prime's trailer into battle mode. Ratchet would blow a gasket if missiles started flying in his Medbay."

"What?!"

"See what I mean? He's already overworked as is." To that, Roller emitted a long, low whistle of sympathy. As they had been talking, Prowl gingerly inched towards the scout drone. "I have a question, how did the Matrix end up in your seat?" Roller responded in its way, and Prowl nodded along. "A subspace portal just opened in the trailer and it was thrown inside? Hm, oh of course. I would have caught it too. ...Why? Phage used Prime's personal comm to open his subspace pocket and must have tossed the Matrix inside. ...Yes, I'll have a word with her about respecting our relics. Seems to be a trend of hers to just toss things around. Huffer's complained too. Not sure how much good it will do, as she can be distracted and careless sometimes. ...Why doesn't Optimus Prime have it? Aah, I'm, uh, sorry Roller. The Prime's not in the best shape right now. Because of that I need the Matrix you're carrying- What are you doing, Roller?!" At mention of the words 'Matrix' and 'need,' Roller revved its engine and sped out of Prowl's reach. The TIC grew immediately irate, snapped up to his full height and thundered, "Roller! I demand you hold still so I can take the Matrix!"

In response, Roller shot back a string of beeps and whistles that left Prowl flustered and Wheeljack and Sideswipe in desperate straights not to break down laughing. Ratchet, on the other hand, felt for Prowl and bemoaned, "I hate drones. Absolute dumb machines. They only ever do as their programmed and nothing else."

"Roller!" Said Prowl with his own authoritative edge. "I do not care if one of your directives dictates you must protect the Matrix. We need-" Before he could finish, Roller shot off another long volley of beeps, clicks, whirls and whistles.

Outside the trailer, Prowl heard Sideswipe burst into full bodied laughter. "Is this our new fearless leader?" Teased Sideswipe. "One that gets sassed by a drone?"

Prowl's cheeks flushed a vibrant blue in mounting humiliation and anger. "I refuse to be outdone by a drone, even if it is you, Roller." Murmured Prowl, then ordered loudly, "Hand. Over. The Matrix!" Roller beeped defiantly back at him and began to spin its six wheels in a taunting fashion.

"This is ridiculous." Grumbled Ratchet and stormed into the trailer. "See here, Roller! Optimus Prime is incapacitated! We need that Matrix to revive—What?!" Cried out Ratchet as two things happened at once. First, Prowl made a daring attempt to snatch the Matrix from Roller's seat, except the little scout drone cut the breaks and launched itself forward. Prowl lost balance as he attempted to correct his direction and grab the Matrix, but only succeeded in grabbing empty air. Roller blasted straight towards Ratchet, daring the doctor to move or get run over. Out of instinct, he leapt out of the way but gave Roller access to flee the trailer.

Prowl slammed his fist against the floor of Prime's trailer in frustration. "I bet Jazz never had to deal with stupid slag like this!" He scrambled to his pedes and shouted at the Autobots as Roller barreled towards the line of stunned forces beyond the trailer doors. "Grab the Matrix!"