Minor Edit: Spoiler free. Had to make a small edit at the end of the chapter. Forgot a slew of Autobots that appeared in TF:G1 Season Two that I had to mention at the end of the chapter. This changed some small bit of math. That's all.

"...Phage...?"

She did not immediately register the calm, soothing voice that brushed at the thin veil of sleep that was cast over her, but it was persistent, gently so, and after a spell she wondered, disjointedly, how long it had been calling to her. "Phage...?" Then, two digits prodded at her shoulder. "Phage-One?"

The thin veil of sleep was slow to slip off of her, but it was pulled far enough that she at last registered who the voice belonged to and said so groggily as she came too. Blinking blearily, she croaked; "Prowl?"

As Phage-One came awake, her mental processes immediately began firing off. She registered straightaway that she was still in the small private room where she had been taken for the scan and ensuing Disentanglement operation. The lights were dimmed, signaling that it must have been night outside the Ark, as it was custom for the Autobots to dim the entirety of the grounded starship to mimic the Earth's cycles. Her concerns turned quickly to her recent operation. "It's night already?" Phage asked as she gingerly tried to sit up. "Wasn't it just morning? Was there a hiccup in the Disentanglement?"

Prowl gave her a peculiarly troubled look. "It was a success. You've been recharging since. ...Do you not notice the difference?"

She stared up at Prowl, groggily trying to process his question. When it finally sunk in Phage-One lightly touched her cranium. :Optimus?:

She was met with expectant silence. And smiled tenderly. "He's gone." She announced happily but then the smile slipped from her face. The cranium surge from hell was blissfully gone. Her headspace was expectantly quiet and wonderfully, simply, hers. And yet, strangely, she found she missed Optimus Prime's calming presence.

"You seem upset?"

Her thin optical ridges sloped together. "I never realized how empty my head was before." In response, Prowl made a general noise at the back of his throat. Her slight confusion deepened then. As she became more alert, her attention focused up on Prowl. "What are you doing here?" She inquired as she moved to sit up.

"I'm not allowed to visit to pay my respects?"

"When was the last time you did." She countered.

For half a klik, Prowl was taken aback by her blunt point, then had the decency to be abashed. "I know I haven't always been present. These things are...well, difficult for me. But here I am."

"Here you are." Phage-One echoed, searching his face over as the moment dragged on uncomfortably long. Worry began pooling in her spark that something was gravely amiss because she could not think of any other reason Prowl would seek her out when he tended to avoid her at all cost. There were dozens of other Autobot's he could go to with a problem, and did, unless... Was she in trouble?, she wondered with sudden spiking alarm. What for? And then frantically wondered further, were they under attack? Were they evacuating? Her anxiety skyrocketed as she sat up, fuel pump pounding in her chassis. "Is something wrong?"

Prowl stepped smartly back from her medberth and fell into the customary at ease position that Autobot's were known for. "Glad you asked. Makes this easier. Follow me." He clipped, gesturing with a curt nod of his cranium towards the door that led from her private Medbay suite and back into the common area of the Medbay.

Disoriented and confused from the Disentanglement procedure, Phage-One stumbled off the medberth to obediently follow but pitched forward instead. Before she could hit the floor, Prowl lunged forward and caught her, his grip steadfast as he hauled her to her pedes.

"Sorry! Sorry." She blabbed. "I didn't realize...I am exhausted."

"When was the last time you had energon?"

She pulled a face. "Yesterday morning. Before the attack."

Once again he hummed before asking tersely; "Can you stand?"

Phantom worry of Decepticon invasion plagued her. Could she stand? She would will it. "Yes. Yes! Just tripped getting up-Oh!" Before she had finished, Prowl took her affirmation at 'yes' and nearly dragged her from the room. She did not protest as he led her out, but stumbled to match his brisk speed as he led her through the threshold and into the dimly lit and quiet Medbay.

Optics wide with alarm, she scanned the Medbay back and forth for trouble but found none. All she spied instead were injured Autobot's recharging peacefully on their medberths. Optical ridges crinkling in deepening confusion, she reiterated desperately, and in hushed tones; "What's wrong? Are we under attack? Has the Ark been invaded?"

"That is my fear."

Her fuel pump clenched, her thoughts spiraling to the first time the Decepticons had first kidnapped her for a personal private meeting with Megatron after her outliner ability had flared up. The Decepticons had set up a false raid to lure the Autobot's out of the Ark and then sent the Seekers in after her. She sometimes still jumped when she caught sight of the Aerialbots shadows, especially when she lacked for recharge. It led her to wonder what was happening now. Why weren't the rest of the Autobot's being roused? Why was the klaxon alarm not blaring?

"Are they about to break in? Are we retreating?"

Prowl glanced at her sidelong, a strange stoic expression upon his beautiful, youthful face. "The Decepticons are not here, Phage-One."

"They're outside the Ark?"

"No. The battle was yesterday."

Her panic started to drain away, only for her stuffy head to fill with confusion. "I don't understand. Prowl, what's going on?"

"I need your help."

Now she was doubly confused. "You need my help?"

"Affirmative."

Without warning, he came to an abrupt halt while Phage-One, too busy checking her blind spots, crashed hard into the medberth in front of them. She half fell atop the mech on the medberth but Prowl was quick to yank her back, his digits digging into her arm. Prowl said something then, but she did not catch it. Her entire world dissolved to just herself, her memories, and Optimus Prime's mangled frame laid out on the medberth.

Brief but intense memories from the day before cut her as if they were the sharp edges of shattered glass. The memories flashed and burned in her mind's eye. In one, her energon drenched hands were dipping in and out of Optimus Prime's injuries, desperate to stop the flow of his lifeblood leaving his body. Another, she recalled her unbridled fear as she kept glancing over her shoulder strut to mark the progress of Megatron's battle with the Lamborghini Twins and Ironhide, and whether or not the Decepticon warlord had noticed her yet. Still another, of her shattering the glass of Prime's window panels, the damaged ones she was staring at now, with the broken hinges she had yanked ajar in pure adrenaline and fear, desperate to pluck Prime's spark from the grasp of death itself when her medical skill had failed and steal the Matrix out from under Megatron himself, because the alternative meant more Decepticons and that meant more death. Further up her optics roved the frame and settled with finality on the absent head...and she spiraled to the last sharp memory, of Megatron forcing her on all fours, his hand encompassing her cranium, forcing her to stare into the dead optics of Optimus Prime's decapitated head.

She did not know when her breathing had began to come in short, brief bursts, but she became conscious of it when she stumbled back, desperate to put some distance between herself and the medberth she'd nearly fallen onto. Disoriented and flushed in the cheeks, Phage turned a hurt and befuddled optic on Prowl, all too eager to fix her attention on anything but the frame of the Prime. "I don't...What? Why?" She fumbled for coherency as much as a proper thought as she scrambled to center her mind, sweep away the memories into a side tunnel, collapse it, and hide out on the rock in the depths of her inner sea.

Prowl's ancient mechanical optics processed her with a cool, detached air that only further unraveled her. "I require you to heal Optimus Prime."

Heal Optimus... Prime...? her thoughts drawled, stumbling over the request as she simultaneously tried to comprehend how and why Prowl thought waking her and dragging her from her medberth to this was acceptable in the slightest. "What?" She uttered in disbelief. "You want me to what?" As his request sunk in, her agitation flared and she hissed out under her breath, "Damn it, Prowl! I thought we were under attack!"

"We could be." He said calmly in the low hushed tone he had adopted to not disturb the resting Autobots surrounding them at every turn.

"What are you on about? Look around!" She whispered heatedly. "Everyone's sleeping. No klaxon alarms blaring. You scared me half to death dragging me out here!"

"Phage." Prowl said in his customarily calm, patient but firm way. "I have debriefed all the extraction team except for Bumblebee, Spike and yourself. All have confirmed that the Decepticons were operating at peak efficiency. Most alarming so, that Megatron was uninjured despite his brawl with Prime. Is this true?"

"Yes."

"Then it implies the Decepticons have some new medical cure-all that we are unaware of. It explains why they were able to hold siege on the Ark for so long yesterday. But it also implies that whatever it is, it is in limited supply and they had to get more from their base. Is this not logical?"

"It is." She drawled cautiously. "I had already figured as much."

"Good. That, I am not surprised by. Now have you followed that thought further along? No. Well then, does it not bear to reason that Megatron and the Decepticons will lay siege to the Ark again and again and again. Slowly but surely wearing us down until none of our warriors are left standing? We came within an astrodust speck of losing the Prime the first go round. If not for your intervention we would have. Tell me, Phage-One. Do you think we can hold out against another siege?"

"We took some of theirs hostage, didn't we?"

"Yes." Concurred Prowl crisply. "But what does it matter that we have the Constructicons? They still have Bruticus and Menasor. At least, I thought so. But now I have the whole Extraction Team reporting there is another combiner we know nothing about. I ask you, Phage-One, how many more do the Decepticons have that we do not know anything about?" Prowl became increasingly agitated that she was taking time to mull over his request rather than agree with him immediately. The gradual shift reflected in his tone as he carried on. "Phage." Prowl replied crisply, "I do not have the time to awaken you to everything that has been going on over the years. Nor do I have the authority to do so. What I will explain, and quickly, is what should be the most obvious to you by now. You were young, by human standards, when the Battle of New York happened. What transpired there, put simply, is that in the timeframe that Megatron had Optimus Prime and the Matrix, we had no idea how many sparks Megatron extracted from the Matrix. We could hope that it was only the Decepticons and Combiners that came shortly thereafter, but the sighting of this new combiner is troubling. Now consider, you have now seen the size of the Decepticon sea base first hand. According to the Extraction Team, you were discovered on the side of their complex where their quarters are located. Is this true?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Would you not reason that multiple levels is a bit much for the accounted for Decepticon forces?"

Her optics widened. "Yes. Now that you mention it..."

Prowl simply nodded. "Good. Now that we agree on that, let me explain further: Sea Spray's function has been to keep tabs on the Decepticons operations and their trade deals with the sub-Atlanteans. Their seabase has been growing for years with no clear increase in their numbers. It should be a logical deduction then that Megatron is preparing for something massive." All throughout his careful explanation her optics grew ever wider as Prowl laid out the barest bones of the long reaching scope of events and grew additionally worried and in awe of the complexities the Autobot's had been discussing and dealing with without her knowing. "So again, Phage ...Now that you grasp the gist of the imminent danger we are in, I need your cooperation. I need you to heal Prime."

She looked at him sharply, all too worried. "I can't! I-"

"You can't? How long do you think we have before the Decepticon's gather their forces again and launch another attack? Who will fall next time? Brawn, Ironhide-Ratchet? What about Wheeljack or Windcharger? Or me? Earth cannot afford that. We cannot afford that." Prowl glanced around the Medbay before refocusing his attention on her. "Not you or any of the other Autobot non-combatants can afford that outcome. Megatron and the Decepticons would do with you, Huffer, Hoist, Grapple, Beachcomber, Perceptor, all of you, as he sees fit. If we fall." His features grew stern. "Which is why I need you to heal Optimus Prime and everyone else."

At that moment, Megatron's disturbing threat came back to haunt her with a vengeance and echoed round and round in her cranium. A heavy weight formed at the bottom of her fuel tanks and reflected on her face. She shifted her weight in agitation. Her omni-hair twisted, coiled and bunched up tightly around her face. Habitually, her hands reached for her long synthetic braid and found it absent. In that moment she became starkly aware of the change of her hair and agitated that she had nothing to busy her hands with.

"Megatron already made it abundantly clear what he was going to do to me." Prowl's optical ridge quirked then. She had been unable to talk about what had happened to anyone of yet, and broaching the subject made the dam walls break. "Megatron found out I had Optimus Prime because of the reformate. He...he threatened me that he would let the procedure finish. That he would let our sparks merge and our minds get so entangled there would be no chance to undo the damage."

"Megatron said what? That sounds like a lot of hot air from the old gladiator."

"Yes! Well, no not...Oh!" Phage snapped in hushed tones, frazzled and distressed before blabbering on. "He said he would make a show of a farce execution to convince the Autobot's that I was dead, then Altihex Optimus and I and-and he said, verbatim, I will bury you in the next generation.'" As she elaborated further on Megatron's threat, Prowl's nonplussed mask broke into a fissure of real worry. "-Dear god, Prowl! Please. Please! If I ever go missing, or-or the Decepticons claim I am dead, please look for me! I don't care how convincing it looks. Please!"

His optical ridges had shot skywards. His servos reached to hold her steady, but he hesitated, uncertain as his digits flexed and closed. "Yes. Certainly. I would. Will! Of course I will! -He said that? All because he found out you had Prime? That doesn't compute. Why not just extract Optimus-"

"I don't know. I don't know! Megatron made multiple remarks about an Ariel." She linted in her distress. She reached again for her braid and again was frustrated to find it absent from her touch. "He said I looked like her. He mentioned this in our discussion previous to Jazz and the team showing up. Then, much later, when everything was hell in the hallway, before he launched into his spiel about what he'd do to me, he made a comment about, about how, something about 'out of all the forms you've had, Prime, I like this one the best.'" She paused briefly, but wanted to say so much more. Wanted to tell Prowl every last detail, but she stopped short at the stunned and disturbed expression on his face.

He started to reach for her again, and again paused, uncomfortable and uncertain, then tried to play it off by waving his servo absently through the air. "Phage... were there other incidents before the extraction team showed up?" She nodded vigorously, unable to voice just then everything, because she wanted to burst out and say everything all at once and couldn't figure out how to express everything instantly. She felt like her hands were shaking, and kept glancing at them and holding them out to gauge. Finally she mumbled, "The conversation I had with Megatron ranked right up there with Shrapnel and Bombshell. It was... He's never sounded so crazy. Grieving Prime's death and midlife crisis all in one."

"What?"

Phage fixed her gaze on Prowl and unconsciously began picking and fidgeting with her hands. "And before the meeting Rumble and Frenzy had me clean up in the Wash Racks because 'Megatron doesn't deal with scrap heaps' and then the Stunticons jumped me-"

"What?" Prowl's optics doubled in size. Abruptly, but not unexpectedly, he grabbed her arm then and turned her around, where her back was to Prime's frame and he was facing her. "Phage, listen to me carefully. I know there hasn't been time to fully debrief you yet. Extracting Optimus Prime was paramount. When the situation has settled, I am going to need you to make a full report of what happened and log that with me. Am I understood? -Good. But right now, I need you to focus on the now. Can you do that? Not just for me, but everyone involved? You clearly understand firsthand the dangers you are in. I need you to heal Prime and the rest of the Autobot's before the Decepticons arrive."

Slowly, Phage shook her head in the negative, apologetic yet numb. "I've been trying to tell you, Prowl, I can't fix this level of damage! Why are you asking me instead of Ratchet?"

They both shared a moment where they stared at each other, both trying to process the other, what was said verses what was asked and, in general, reboot their processes. Prowl arrived at his conclusion nanokliks before Phage.

"Fix?" Said Prowl.

"Oh!" Gasped Phage.

"If I wanted you to fix him I would have gone to Ratchet. I said I wanted you to heal him."

Her optics doubled in size as the realization of what he was asking dawned on her. "Oh!"

"How can you be such an uber and a drone at the same time?"

"Excuse me." Clipped Phage-One. "But you're the one that woke me up after an operation. I am not at my best."

Despite their hushed conversation, Prowl's assertive demeanor was not affected, rather, between his calm presence and sweet voice, it was amplified. He sighed in frustration and stressed her designation in the same breath. "Phage of the Ark. What is going through your processor? I have been candid with you yet I feel you are being guarded with me."

"Excuse me?" Phage-One chirped.

"Every 'Bot confirmed 'Bee's story: after Megatron gouged your arm with a laser scalpel you regenerated at the same speed that the Twins are renowned for. You healed Bumblebee and revived Spike from termination." His features dissolved into incredulousness. "Allspark, Phage. I cannot figure out what is going through your cranium. On one servo you are moonlighting your phasing ability when you were warned not to, and then on the other you sneak the Matrix into Prime's subspace pocket. I had a pitt of a time trying to convince mechs around here you hadn't gone rogue-"

"No one trusts me?" She asked brokenly.

"-Now I find out about this? Why would you keep this a secret?"

"I wasn't!" She cried indignantly.

"Shush-Weren't you? You were phasing and not degrading from phase rot and you didn't realize then that you had your own matrix? Didn't realize what you had? How do you explain it?"

In a burst of raw emotion, Phage cracked; "What is there to explain?! I didn't know I could do any of that till now! The phasing-Ratchet only told me not to use it because it could be dangerous. When I wasn't degrading, I figured Ratchet had overblown phase rot like he does everything else! For heavens sake, the mech got wound up whenever Spike or I would eat fast food or indulge in a soda! I still can't get over that one time he slid into the Command Center after we came back from an outing and practically grilled us on our food choices and began setting up a detox."

"He did it because he cares. He wanted to make sure you all lived as long and as healthily as you could. But you. Why do it at all?"

"I just...I just wanted my family back! Nobody has treated me the same way they did when I was Alicean! I've been treated as an outsider for the last two years! Do you have any idea the lengths and hoops I've had to go through in two years alone? Waking up like this? Having to go through rehabilitation to learn how to walk! And having to relearn how to function on my own to take care of myself? Or my struggle to consume energon? Do you know Ratchet had to hook me up to a drip for weeks until I could tolerate energon? I kept gagging, Prowl. Gagging on energon. Ratchet theorized it was because my human experiences registered the taste as god awful. Not that you know."

"Of course I know."

"Do you? From second hand accounts. Reports. But you weren't here. And that's my point. You weren't there. Few of the Bots were. I was alone with Ratchet most the time and he kept hammering down my throat to shut up and put up because you've all been through worse! I've been in a private hell for years! Through it all I kept thinking I had to be respectful towards the lot of you-because you have all been through so much. Because that's what my father drilled in. That I shouldn't complain. I had no right. But no matter how much I swallowed, how much I did to improve, how hard I pushed myself to catch up-It was never good enough." Prowl tried to interject but she kept going. "Six months I was shoved aside to organize Wheeljack's mess. Six months! And why? He doesn't follow the organization set out. He just does what he always does. I understood then how little I meant."

"Phage-"

"So fuck yes I was moonlight phasing! Because I wanted to be useful! Because I needed to feel that I mattered, Prowl! To prove my worth. If I could master my skill, I reasoned, I could get my family back, because they turned away from me after I was forcibly cyber ascended. -Has that ever crossed your processor, Prowl? The violence done to my person? That I was kidnapped and forcibly cyber ascended? Does that even compute to you? -And yet, despite every slight, I love this family. I gave up one life already for the lot of you. And none of that seems to matter! I pushed and advocated and tried so damn hard to help you. I helped secure rights for your people. The lands around the Ark are your own sovereign land. I wanted you all to heal and move on from the war. It was so long ago. Explore who you are. I-I..." Her voice grew too thick to talk then, but she pushed pass the lump to finish even as her voice cracked. "Why did I bother if this is how I'm treated in turn? Why did I throw years of my life away? For what?" She paused then, struggling to not break down entirely. She bit back on haggard sobs that wanted to cut out of her throat while a rebellious tear cut a streak down her left cheek.

The atmosphere in the Medbay had become charged, a quiet, tense thing. Where mechs had been recharging before, Prowl was not so certain now. He was not a gambling mech, but he would put credits down that there were a few listening in. He was less certain where the conversation had taken such a drastic left turn. How had they gone from him asking her to heal Prime to a meltdown? What had he said?

Primus, speaking with Phage was similar to speaking to Bluestreak. The two could talk circles around people and never get anywhere. "Years worth?" Prowl murmured quietly as he processed her words. "It wasn't even a vorn."

The stark reminder of the difference in time between their species smacked her hard across the face. With it, something deep inside of Phage-One broke and with it went the light out of her optics. Her features shifted from struggling to hold off on a complete breakdown and gradually morphed into a stony blank mask. Prowl found it an improvement. Certainly easier to deal with. He squared off and stately matter of factly, "I am going to be candid with you, Phage-One, because you need to hear some harsh facts: you are mired in the past and too short-sighted. I do not care about what you accomplished as Alicean Witwicky of Portland. Gaining rights in America was only ever a stepping stone. It will not matter when we leave Earth. It especially will not mean anything in the next millennia. Likely Earth will have gone through so much change in a thousand of its solar years we will be dealing with a new government, if we come back to this backwater planet at all. And what will it matter when you reach your first million years? Will you still be harping on about that one time where you helped the Autobot's on that one 'what's-its-designation' alien planet? ...No, of course not. You will go on to do other things. I know you will because at your root, you are a Witwicky. And if there is anything I have learned of your familial unit, it is that you set bars not to reach them, but to break them." As she listened, a promising glint returned to her optics. "I am afraid to add, but you may always feel as though you are trying to 'catch up.' The service records of the Autobot's onboard are as impressive as they are lengthy. ...It is good that you have used it as a motivator to overcome your tribulations. Just do not allow it to turn you into a needy go-getter. And you are, by far, not the only one aboard who has sacrificed a life for the cause and come back." Phage blinked at the last, her attention caught on Prowl's final words. Something kept pricking at the back her mind but she couldn't quite grasp the connecting threads. "That said, the reason I am here has not changed..." He punctuated his last words with clean clear eloquence. "I need you to heal Optimus Prime."

She cast a fleeting, anxious glance towards the Prime's mangled frame before she fixed it firmly back on Prowl. "I can't."

"Can't or won't." A dark edge hemmed his question.

"Prowl, I-I don't know how." She responded helplessly. "Optimus handled all of that."

He made a pointedly confused face. "But Optimus Prime was in your brain module. If he performed the healing through you then you should know how to do it again."

"It's not that simple!" Phage tried to explain but Prowl cut her off.

"It is. His frame is here." He grew dangerously calm as he added, "Time is drawing critical. We need you to heal the Prime and the rest of the Autobots now."

She became a bundle of instant nerves. "I already said Prowl-"

"That Prime handled the process. I got that. It should be easy for you to duplicate it."

"I believe I could..."

"Then what is the root problem? The longer we stall the more risk we are at."

"Optimus said my matrix is potent. Wild compared to the Matrix. He nearly lost control when directing its energies."

"So your scared?"

"Optimus and I were both worried! He said it was too much energy when he revived Spike-"

"Spike is fine."

"He is?"

Prowl waved a servo about carelessly. "Minus scarring, I'm told. But your medical professionals are discharging him soon. Bumblebee reported that they complained Spike was the healthiest human in the facility."

A great wave of relief flooded her face. "Really!"

"Did Optimus Prime warn what would happen if you lost control?"

"No." She said, shrugging helplessly. She felt so small and lost. The former confidence that had oozed from her while she was Pandora Endurus was gone. She felt small and insignificant, like little Phage all over again. Lost was apt. She was in turmoil. Couldn't Prowl see that? "Optimus didn't seem to know either." She added quickly.

Prowl shook his cranium, muttering something vague under his breath before it lifted in volume where she caught him say, "Sometimes Optimus Prime worries too much." He dropped servo contact with her, all too eager to do so, and fixed her with a stern glare. All too calm and whisper quiet he ordered her: "Heal the Prime, Phage-One." Still uncertain, she shuffled between her pedes. "Do it." Prowl commanded, his voice holding the calm sway of an sea before a storm.

At that moment, Ratchet's words replayed in her cranium: '...if I told Command they would demand tests. They would what to see what your matrix could do, Phage. It's just standard. They would want to know if it could create new sparks.-"

"New sparks...?"

"-And if it couldn't, they would want to know if it was more alike to the Heart of Cybertron. Those two tests alone could drastically alter her future. Don't deny it, Prime! Autobot Command would use her just as they use everyone else. I wasn't going to stand for it. She isn't a tool. So of course I withheld the information. What was I suppose to do? I couldn't tell a spark. Not even you, Prime. Especially you. Because I knew. I knew the moment anyone in Autobot Command realized what you have, Phage- That. Was. It. It would be a matter of time before Megatron figured out what was going on and when that happened the entire War would refocus-on-you."'

An immediate ill feeling settled in her gut. Phage-One's optics widened as she came to see Prowl in a different light. She took half a step back and bumped into Optimus Prime's medberth.

"Stop giving me that stupid look and-"

"Hey, Prowl." Softly chirped a familiar voice.

"What's going on over here?" Followed up an equally familiar tone.

Prowl's door panels twitched. He went rigid as if someone had fused his spine together at every point. With terrifying stealth for mechs of their size, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker emerged from behind the Tactician, Sideswipe preceding Sunstreaker and speaking in similar accord. Sideswipe flanked Prowl on his right and Sunstreaker his left.

"Last I heard," Sideswipe began as he slid pass Prowl and saddled up next to Phage. "Ratchet had a standing order: no one was to disturb the lady of the Ark, given that she's just undergone an intense medical procedure."

"So what are you doing harassing her?" Questioned Sunstreaker as he mirrored Sideswipe's steps and circled around Prowl, brushing shoulders with him as he went, and took flank on her opposite side. Stunned by their arrival, Phage-One glanced between the two mighty Autobot Wreckers before fixing her attention back on a very flustered Prowl.

"I wasn't harassing Phage-One."

"Hm, I think you were." Challenged Sideswipe. "She seems to be in a great deal of distress. What's the idea of dragging her out of recharge and marching her in front of Optimus Prime's frame?"

"Both techniques are used for psychological interrogation." Answered Sunstreaker, to which Prowl just glared.

Sideswipe sucked air between his denta and rolled his optics in his brother's direction. "Yeeeah, I don't like the sound of that."

"I am not surprised you would know that, Sunstreaker." Prowl calmly and quietly retorted. "In fact, according to the Extraction Team's reports, I have been wondering who taught Phage to go for vital kill shots."

The Badland Terrors' smiles mirrored each other. "You know the trick to outliving everyone, Prowler?" Asked Sideswipe.

"You mean other than being an outlier with a unique healing factor?"

"Other than that." Sideswipe remarked dismissively with a wave of his servo.

"Fighting dirty." Sunstreaker cut in.

"Knew it." Murmured Prowl as an aside to himself. "Assigning the two of you as her bodyguards was a terrible idea."

"I think it was the best idea." Smarted off Sideswipe with a cheeky smirk.

The Tactician's glare became icy as his whole face set into a beautiful, cold model of stone. "I don't know what the two of you are doing here, but the both of you need to leave. Phage-One and I were having a private discussion."

"No." Said Sunstreaker.

"Excuse me? As your commanding officer I demand that you stand down."

"Funny thing that," Sunstreaker said with an equally chilly glare, "with Jazz back, power is stripped from you in emergency situations and falls back to who? Oh, yes...Jazz."

"Fancy that." Cut in Sideswipe. "Where is he, by the way?"

"Probably still off with Ratchet. Didn't I see you go with them after the procedure? Looked like some important discussion..."

Prowl bristled on the spot. Optics narrowed to slits, his denta peeked between a gap in his lips. At the last his jaw dropped for him to lob some heated words back at the Lamborghini Twins, except that the door to the Medbay wooshed open then. Usually a background sound, it was amplified tenfold in the quiet. Prowl spun on the spot to address the newcomers, only to spy an irate Ratchet and Jazz barreling down on his position. It was at that moment, as he spared an angry glare towards the Lamborghini Twins, that Prowl understood they had merely been stalking him while they waited for the heavyweight backup.

A low-key angry rev issued from Prowl's engine as he turned smartly away from the trio to address Jazz and Ratchet. The former of whom spread his arms wide upon catching Prowl's gaze and quietly, but angrily shouted; "What the frag are you doing?"

Ratchet had steamrolled into Medbay as if the place had been about to explode and was he was in the mindset to save as many of his patients as possible. His momentum carried with him once he had crossed the threshold, and he would have let it carry him straight into Prowl for a physical altercation if Jazz had not headed the CMO off. The ensuing conflict was terse, heated and hushed as Prowl, Jazz and Ratchet argued but tried to maintain a level of quiet to prevent waking the crew.

Jazz placed himself squarely between Prowl and Ratchet as the distance closed, effectively preventing both mechs from coming to blows. Despite his interference, Ratchet savagely snapped at Prowl; "When I say do not disturb my patients, it means: Do. Not. Disturb. My. Patients! Phage is in critical condition and you dragged her from her medberth! What the frag is wrong with your processor!"

"We need her to heal everyone!"

Due to his sheer anger, Ratchet's face went vibrant energon blue in hue. He turned a sharp optic on Jazz. "What did I say!"

"Enough!" Hissed Jazz. "Both of you, come with me to Ratchet's office. Now!" For good measure, he gave Prowl a good shove in the right direction to get him going but the Tactician jerked out of Jazz's touch and marched smartly ahead of the small party to the private office. En route, Ratchet twisted on his heel and jabbed a digit at Phage-One and the Lamborghini Twins. "Phage! Get back to your medberth. And you two, make sure she gets there and stays there!"

With no further order from Command, the three disappeared into Ratchet's office. Jazz was last to enter. No sooner than the door had swooshed and locked shut than the three heard the distinct angry shouting of the officers going at each other. Tense awkward silence passed before Phage murmured, "What the hell just happened?"

"Prowl being Prowl." Tsked Sunstreaker as he folded his arms.

At Phage's perplexed expression, Sideswipe leaned over and said, "Woke up from recharge from your little chitchat. You looked distressed. And Prowl was being Prowl from the sounds of it. So, knowing Ratchet had said to leave you alone to recharge, well, I comm'd Jazz."

"You comm'd them?"

"Absolutely." Insisted Sideswipe with a smile. "Ain't no one allowed to mess with you."

"Except us." Chipped in Sunstreaker. Sideswipe nodded along mischievously. Only Phage-One was aloof, half listening to their banter and mumbled a half hearted thanks. The Twins gave her a curious look before sharing a knowing glance between themselves.

"Come on, Faye." Sideswipe chimed sweetly and touched her arm. "Let's get you back to your berth before Ratchet blows a gasket. ...What did he want with you anyway? Not everyday I see Prowl pull some slag like this. What did he mean by 'heal everyone?'"

"Isn't it obvious?" Scoffed Sunstreaker. "He clearly thinks that Phage has some residue Matrix energy stored up in her from contact with Prime and the Matrix. He's likely hoping Phage still has some reserved and can assess it like she did at the Decepticon seabase."

Fine crease lines formed over Phage-One's brows. The notion struck her by the Twins off the cuff remarks that no Bot outside of who she had told in the elevator knew what had really happened at the seabase. They had, logically, formed their own conclusions when Bumblebee had blabbed to everyone else. What they came up with was the only logical road given the circumstances.

Which brought her right back around to Prowl. His calmly laid out scenario of an endless Decepticon invasion kept going round and round in her head. The way Prowl had gone about trying to get her to help had been absolutely asinine. She couldn't wrap her head around why he couldn't have just asked nicely. What he had done, what did she even call it? Theatrics? Psychological interrogation, according to Sunstreaker, sounded much too harsh. But was it what it really was? Had Prowl just really done that to her because he was afraid? The last ten minutes boggled her mind. And yet, despite his methods, Prowl had laid out very real and very frightening facts. Based on what the Twins had just said, how much did Autobot Command share with mechs like Sunstreaker and Sideswipe? Even stranded on an alien world and faced with the possibility that they were the last of their species, there was certain knowledge only the higher ups knew. Which begged the question, were the Twins aware of the barest bones that Prowl had laid out to her? Surely. ...Maybe?

Before the Twins had led her more than half a dozen steps from Optimus Prime's frame, she made up her mind. "Hold on." She said abruptly and shrugged Sideswipe's hold off. "I have to do something."

The Twins stared after her quizzically. "What?" Asked Sideswipe.

The crease lines deepened on her forehead. "Prowl's right."

"You do have residue Matrix energy?" Asked a stunned Sunstreaker. "I was only speculating."

She did not respond. Instead she turned resolutely towards Optimus Prime's frame and stepped up next to it, rubbing her hands together anxiously. The sight of it once again churned her fuel tanks something fierce. She bit back on the urge to turn away and instead adamantly stuck her hands out over his frame as she recalled Optimus had made her do with Bumblebee at the Decepticon seabase. Then, she closed her optics to concentrate on following the internal path Optimus had laid out that he had called channeling.

The Lamborghini Twins noted a pulse of neon green light racing through the seams of her frame, noted the irises of her deep azure optics had taken on a green ring. The glow polluted the shade of her optics, lightening them to aquamarine. That foreign energy raced along her arms and coalesced into her servos in a misty green light. The Badland Terrors first shared stunned looks between each other but those quickly gave way to concern. "That is not Matrix energy." Murmured Sunstreaker as he took half a step back, his frame tensing as he seized her up. Sideswipe on the other hand cautiously moved forward.

"Phage...?"

"I hope I'm not overwhelmed." She worried softly.

Their faces painted in equal hues of worry. "What do you mean? Phage, wait. Stop." Sideswipe said lamely, uncertain if he should interrupt to save her from herself or not and if he did what repercussions would it have. "Phage, wait. Stop. This doesn't feel right."

Stubbornly set on her task, Phage-One was not listening and did not want to spend the time explaining everything all over again, especially when in doing so she could loose her nerve. She focused intently on the vague concept Optimus Prime had only but briefly introduced her too called channeling and attempted to focus the raging energy within her down a specific path she had chosen. Directing that raging river was hard and the Lamborghini Twins would not be quiet.

"Optimus doesn't strain like that when he's healing." Observed Sunstreaker disquietingly.

Sideswipe's face crumpled in utmost concern. "Phage, are you in pain? Phage, you're... Faye, stop!" Sideswipe demanded. He grabbed her shoulder.

An abrupt implosion of the mysterious green light erupted from Phage's chassis and pulsed angrily through her frame. Sideswipe leapt back as though his servo had been burned, more out of surprise than anything else. The poor femme gasped sharply then grew disquietingly silent as she gnashed her denta and shuttered her burning green optics shut. Her frame stumbled forward, but caught her balance by quickly adjusting her footwork. Her servos remained outstretched over the Prime, but trembled visibly as her servos glowed brightly.

The Badland Terrors knew from personal experience that Optimus Prime did not act in this fashion when tapping the Matrix to heal. Optimus Prime did not ever look to be in physical pain when accessing it. Sideswipe looked worriedly to his brother. "What do we do?"

"RATCHET!" Sunstreaker yelled across the Medbay.

The alarm in his tone and volume of his shout woke up additional Autobot's at the cost of achieving what he had hoped. The door to Ratchet's personal office could not get open fast enough for the doctor. He scrambled to get back into his Medbay.

"What? What is-" His optics quickly discovered the source of the newest disturbance and full panic flirted across Ratchet's face. "PHAGE, STOP!"

Jazz and Prowl followed right behind the CMO. Jazz reflected Ratchet and the Twins panic, but it took Prowl a minute to get there. When he came out of the office Prowl had started to argue with Ratchet that it was for the best and to let Phage-One finish. Until he saw her struggle. Last minute regret and too-late caution plagued Prowl, all emotions he empathized with one word, "Phage?!"

"It burns!"

"Stop! Just stop!" Ratchet cried frantically.

"What's happening?" Asked Sideswipe. "What do we do!"

"I don't know!" Admitted a panicked Ratchet.

"Release the energy! Just heal!" Prowl shouted.

"No! I...I'm...trying... to channel...like Prime!"

"Just heal, Phage!"

She grit her denta and shook her cranium in the negative, her new omni hair twisting and curling around her cranium to emphasize without words, that what he was asking wasn't done the way he demanded.

It was then that Prowl really did start to panic.

"Stop encouraging her! This is your fault to begin with!"

"My fault!? You're the one that kept it hidden!" Prowl turned sharply around on Ratchet and doubled down. "Besides, she's already accessed it. Just better to finish than waste the opportunity!"

Her optics flew open then, twin burning emerald suns, a shade none had ever seen on any Cybertronian in their lives. A strange wave of disorienting calm came over her face. "Is anyone seeing this...?" Despite the display of power, her voice came out small and scared. "Why are there aurora lights?"

"What aurora lights?" Echoed Jazz sharply. Not a one of them saw anything in the direction she was staring. The only foreign light in Medbay was the one she was projecting. "Lil' Katt, cut it out!"

She was a hopeful, idealistic fool. She knew that the moment she had attempted to hone her focus to channel. She had been proud that she had managed to hold a chokehold on the tidal wave of power raging within her. But her focus was too brittle. The dam she had imagined to hold back the tidal wave was flimsy at best and burst apart. She was immediately overcome by the tidal force of power coursing through her circuits. With a piercing scream that jerked awake any remaining Autobot's recharging in the Medbay, an explosive shockwave of green energy burst from her frame and rippled outwards. When the shockwave hit the mechs standing, they were blown off their pedes. The Lamborghini Twins crashed into medberths, Ratchet and Jazz hit the floor and Prowl cracked his helm on the edge of a medberth on his way to kiss the floor.

A moment's disorientation slowed Prowl down. He touched his helm, feeling a large dent in the side. Gingerly he picked himself up off the floor, aware of the cacophony of chaos all around him. Autobot's in the Medbay had come awake, cursing and shouting incomprehensibly as their words were drowned in the horrid racket the Ark was performing. The starship itself seemed to have come alive. Loud disconcerting creaking and moaning echoed throughout the length and breadth of the starship. The whining crunch of metal shrieking against rock grated on his audio receptors. The racket cast him back to some dark places during the War but with a resolute will, Prowl fortified his mind against the memories. Against the horrid orchestra, he cringed and covered his audio receptors as he sat up.

"Phage?" He shouted for her, but his call was drowned in the noise. He cast his optics about and found the femme not far off, crumpled on the floor of the Medbay. A piercing stab of conscious tore through him. Why hadn't he listened when she said she couldn't channel her power? What if she had blown the Ark and everyone within it apart? How could he forget the Crystal in Peru? How could he overlook something so critical?

Summoning his strength, Prowl made to pull himself up onto his pedes. At that moment, Jazz appeared at his side, and Ratchet too, and they both helped him attain his footing. With a bond formed over millions of years, they wordlessly communicated via servo gestures and nods. Ratchet bent Prowl over to check his helm, flashed three digits in front of his face, and when Prowl reflected the same number on his servo Ratchet seemed satisfied with his functionality. Then, Jazz held up his servos and showed off the green electric energy crackling across his frame. Ratchet's optics doubled in size as Jazz's entire frame began reconfiguring, upgrading into a new design. Jazz desperately gestured to his comrades and then around the Medbay. Ratchet and Prowl looked to themselves and found their own frames were undergoing an upgrade. And then Ratchet spun around, accounting for everyone within his view. Every mech within the Medbay was undergoing the same treatment. Those injured were healing and upgrading, their bodies recovering at rapid rates. Each Autobot was preoccupied by the miracle and marveling themselves over. The Badland Terrors popped back up from where they had been blown back. Their frames were rapidly growing new exodermal armor. Beyond them, Ratchet realized almost too late, the shattered glass of the wall length window was rippling with the foreign energy. Where it ran across the length and breadth of the Ark, the glass grew and repaired. Where the walls and ceiling had caved in over the course of millions of years and stalactites and stalagmites had grown from water and earth to invade the Medbay in colonies, and where the oldest had joined to form columns, the Cybertronian alloy that comprised the ship came alive, whining in protest, until the mountain rock groaned and shattered under pressure and then was expelled from the hull of the Ark as assuredly as a thorn from flesh.

Ratchet wasn't aware his mouth had come unhinged until Jazz tapped his shoulder and redirected his attention to the medberth where Optimus Prime's frame lay. Ratchet's mouth slackened again and his optics threatened to burst for the sheer size they had grown as he marveled in wonder as the crackling green energy raced along the Prime's frame.

As the focal point of the energy burst, the green energy crackled and leapt across his frame, repairing it where it raced along and restoring what was lost, not excluding Optimus Prime's cranium. Too dumbstruck to respond, the mechs gawked as Optimus Prime's head reconstructed itself and his frame did not simply repair itself to pristine factory condition, but upgraded as well.

As the miracle subsided and the Ark began to settle, Optimus Prime stirred then leisurely sat up. The gobsmacked Autobot's fell into absolute silence as they gawked on. The Prime glanced curiously around at his Autobot brethren and then at himself. He was turning his servo over this way and that, noting the fading traces of the energy surge, when Jazz cautiously approached. Optimus Prime's striking liberty blue optics leapt up from his servo and caught Jazz, seeming to pierce through the visor and stare straight into his optics. Full of apprehension, Jazz asked a single simple question. "Optimus Prime?"

"Yes?" A rush of relief left Jazz's shoulders. Optimus noted it and looked again at his servo then back to Jazz. "Did we find a unique energy source?"

"Something like that." Jazz breathed.

The Prime's optics narrowed critically. "What's happened? How long have I been out for this time?" The question unleashed a floodgate from nearly every Autobot. Jazz and Prowl rushed to explain everything that had happened since the Decepticon siege the prior day. Their dual accounts were interrupted and interjected into at every other word by the gathered Autobot's eager to give their own accounts. "Silence!" Bellowed Optimus Prime. The gathered force fell into silence and stared on curiously as he moved to claim his full height and he groaned under his breath, "It's another one of those days."

At his full height, the Autobot Commander towered over most of the Autobot's. From his overshadowing height, the full weight of his arresting gaze fell on Jazz, Prowl and Ratchet. "Jazz," he intoned with his familiar baritone voice, "Report."

"I can do better." Ratchet interjected before Jazz could begin. Optimus fixed the CMO with a sharp but curious look. "I can go grab your mental engram for a synch up "

"Thank you, Ratchet. That would perhaps be best." Ratchet nodded along importantly before he practically bounded to do as he offered. Once he had disappeared into his office, Optimus Prime's attention swept across the Medbay again and landed at last on Phage-One. A start ran straight through his frame at the sight of the femme lying on the floor about ten feet from him, limbs and omni-hair strewn about like a poor discarded toy. Optimus Prime shot his officers a perplexed look, quietly expecting answers. When none were forthcoming, and no one moved straightaway to aid her, he himself cut straight for her. "What happened?" Prime demanded as he knelt beside Phage-One. He carefully checked her over for damage, and finding none, gingerly picked her up.

Jazz stepped forward and began recounting the last two days events in clear, concise sentences. "It's like this, Prime: yesterday the Decepticons launched a surprise attack in the predawn."

"Yesterday?" Asked a stunned Prime.

"Yes, sir. All Decepticon combiners were on the field. The battle was going badly for us. Events took a turn for the worse when Megatron engaged you in combat. Sorry to say Prime, but you lost."

Optimus looked up sharply from Phage-One at this comment. "I lost?"

"Sorry, Prime. Yes, sir. We would have lost you if Lil' Katt hadn't of rushed the field to repair you. Finding the damage beyond her capability, she used herself as an impromtu storage for your spark and pysche transplant."

"What!" Exclaimed Optimus Prime in shock and surprise as he glanced between the femme in his arms and his Second in Command.

"That's not even the gold flecks on the oil cake, Prime. Lil' Katt slipped the Matrix into your subspace compartment with the trailer to keep it out of Megatron's reach." Optimus Prime's optics grew wide and flared at the relay of information. "After some back and forth, the battle came to an end when Megatron and the Decepticons fled the battle with Phage as a hostage."

"But she's here now."

"I immediately set out with a team to retrieve her, sir."

"Good work, Jazz."

"Thank you, sir."

"And the..." Optimus glanced around the Medbay, noting the Autobot's and the renewed Medbay, "Energy source that revived me and did all this?"

Jazz stiffened. "That...came from Phage-One, sir."

Further confusion deepened Optimus Prime's features. He quietly murmured, "Phage-One?"

"Yes, Prime. Designation promotion. You know how it goes."

In light of the seriousness of everything else Jazz was dropping on him, he let the designation promotion slide. "What about the energy source?"

"Right. Well, Lil' Katt...has her own matrix."

"What?" Rumbled Optimus Prime darkly as he, perhaps subconsciously at the news, cradled Phage-One closer to his frame. A similar stunned reaction rippled through the Autobot force and low murmur broke out amongst those who had not known. "She has a matrix? And it did all this?"

"To my understanding, yes Prime."

"How?"

"Ask Ratchet." Prowl grumbled irritably.

As if summoned by invoking his designation, Ratchet reemerged from his office. In his servo held high for all to see was a small, flat crystalline chip. "Got your engram, Prime." He stopped short at the mixed bag of curious, befuddled and angry glares he was getting from the Autobot force. Especially the steely opticed glare Optimus Prime was borrowing into him. "Did I miss something?"

Optimus Prime's glare deepened. "I certainly did." Optimus Prime rumbled. "I'll have my engram now, Ratchet."

A minor commotion erupted among the Autobots. Optimus Prime and the officers' attention immediately focused in on the disturbance. "Sea Spray." Optimus said calmly, signaling out the mech in question who was trying to force his way to the front of the gathered Autobots. "Is there an emergency?"

He burst to the forefront of the Autobot ranks, newly upgraded with the rest, looking near wild-opticed. He exclaimed animatedly, "There's a spark!" Prime and the officers stared on, perplexed by his claim. "I have spark!"

"Yes, Sea Spray. You do." Remarked Ratchet with a deadpan edge.

"No you lugnut!" Groused Sea Spray angrily before he tapped his chassis. "Here, in my secondary spark chamber for emergency transfers! There's a spark!"

"We extracted Prime's spark from there already, Sea Spray." Ratchet tried to remind him calmly, while utterly confounded on what Sea Spray was getting at.

Sea Spray's engine revved angrily. "I know that! There's another one!"

Optimus Prime and the gathered Autobots stared at Sea Spray as if he had grown a second cranium. It was Optimus Prime that asked the all important question: "What?"

Sea Spray tapped his chest platting again with frantic energy. "When the energy wave hit, I got a notification that the emergency chamber was occupied with a new spark. I'm telling you, it materialized out of nowhere! I could show you!" Before anyone could say otherwise, Sea Spray opened his chest plating to reveal the cavity within his chassis where the secondary emergency spark chamber was housed. Certainly within it was another spark. Not a kind of spark of the familiar shade of blue that the Cybertronians were familiar with, but one that was a shade of green. Aquamarine to be precise. As the Autobots gawked on, the new spark pulsed and spun happily within its confines until Sea Spray closed his chassis with finality and said, "See!"

Optimus Prime felt quite suddenly as if the world was swimming. Flabbergasted, he turned aside from Sea Spray and stared down at the femme cradled in his arms. "It is one of those days." He murmured disjointedly.

"Spires of Iacon!" Jazz sharply gasped, arresting the attention of Optimus Prime and the Autobots. The SIC spun on his heel to address Ratchet. He seized the CMO by his shoulder struts and shook him. "Ratchet! It created a new spark! Lil' Katt's matrix created a new spark!"

"I saw!" Gasped Ratchet.

"No, Ratchet! You don't get it!" Jazz cried excitedly as he shook the doctor. "It created a new spark inside a spark extractor! What about the Mind Bank, Ratchet? What about the Mind Bank!"

It was not just Ratchet's face that went pale as the significance of what Jazz was suggesting dawned on him. Through the feint spell that held sway over many, Ratchet swatted Jazz's servos off of him. He did not protest but let Ratchet go as the doctor stumbled away from Jazz then finally broke optic contact as he careened away and ran for the back of the Medbay. The Autobots let him pass, then followed quickly behind. Frantically, Ratchet accessed a secret panel disguised into the wall and desperately punched in his code with a trembling servo. Ratchet stumbled back as the barren wall and floor began to shift and reconfigure into a small flight of stairs that descended into a narrow corridor brilliantly lit with the cerulean light of dozens upon dozens of sparks. Within the small space just large enough for one mech abreast, was row upon neatly organized row of sparks held in magnetic storage alongside their mental engrams. The Mind Bank was the Autobot's most jealously guarded secret from humanity as it housed not just the remainder of the Ark's crew, but was, in essence, the Autobot's secret to immortality.

Ratchet briskly trotted down the tight corridor, his red digits brushing over neatly scrawled designations of the Autobots housed within. He was seeking specific plaques, specific magnetic containers that had housed members of the crew that they had reactivated much later: Beachcomber, Blaster, Cosmos, Grapple, Hoist, Inferno, Perceptor, Powerglide, Red Alert, Sea Spray, Skids, Smokescreen, Tracks and Warpath. The magnetic containers should have been empty. He quickly discovered that he did not have to follow the alphabetical system to spot the magnetic containers he was looking for, as the disquietingly yet serene glow of cerulean sparks was corrupted by a foreign, alien light. Sections of the corridor where the empty containers should have been were polluted in varying shades of green light. Ratchet quickly came to the end of the Mind Bank and turned slowly about. Face drawn, he stared back out at the dozens of faces staring back at him that could already see for themselves what he already knew.

"There are fourteen more in here where the containers had been emptied." Ratchet managed to say, his voice coming out hollow from the shock.

Outside the Mind Bank, Jazz and half the crew turned their optics up on Optimus Prime. He shifted uncomfortably under their direct gaze and, subconsciously, reaffirmed his grip on Phage-One by pulling her limp frame protectively against his. "That makes fifteen, Optimus!" Jazz announced in whisper thin awe.

"Sixteen." Called Ratchet from the Mind Bank. Craniums snapped back around as he reemerged from the Mind Bank and moved to reseal it.

"Sixteen?" Echoed Jazz.

Hollow faced, Ratchet lifted his gaze off the floor and fixed it to Jazz, then Prime. "My emergency spark container is occupied too."

Jazz turned slowly from the CMO and cast his gaze back up on Optimus Prime. "Correction: sixteen new sparks. Prime..." For once in his life, Jazz fumbled for words. He looked around imploringly, and finding no inspiration or assistance, his attention landed on Phage-One cradled bridal style in the Prime's arms. "Lil' Katt...Phage-One has a matrix." His attention lifted up to the Prime's. "A real Matrix."

"A Creation Matrix." Suggested Sea Spray who received murmurs of agreement.

"Question is," Ratchet interjected as he finished resealing the Mind Bank before he turned back around to face the crew. The shock had worn off and his intense gaze borrowed deep into Optimus Prime. "What is Command going to do with her now?"