Authors' Note: For everyone who thought this was over, surprise! :) For your New Year's Eve entertainment here are some Decepticons having a worse day than you. At least, we REALLY hope your day is better. If not, we need to send you chocolate. Hope you enjoy!
The ping came out of nowhere. Hook frowned as he recognized the transmission's frequency, and it was decidedly not Decepticon. It was in the same bandwidth as the medical emergency alerts used on Cybertron back before their civilization fell. Only one Autobot mech still online would know to use that frequency, and if he dared to use it now, it also meant he knew Soundwave was out of commission.
What the frag was he supposed to do with this?
…
"Can you hear me, Soundwave?" Hook asked.
Soundwave could hear the Decepticon medic all along, but for the last two solar cycles, he'd been unable to respond. The fragging Twitch had metastasized beyond mechanical functions and had been affecting him on the level of motherboard relays. "Soundwave acknowledges."
Hook's shoulders relaxed in relief. "About fragging time. Looks like your idea worked. Using Rumble's processor core to amp up your own antiviral programming did knock that modified Twitch back quite a bit. I'd say that Starscream is worse off than you are now."
"Rumble's status?" Soundwave asked.
"Offlined," Hook replied, starting to clean up the work area. "Rerouting all his processing power to you left him undefended. But it saved you, and hey, that's what Megatron wanted, so no paint off my finish."
"It was necessary," Soundwave evenly said.
And it was necessary. Even a drone's AI would not be able to provide the processing power needed. Only a fellow Cybertonian could provide that kind of boost. Unfortunately, redirecting that processing power to save him left Rumble vulnerable.
It was necessary.
As the first Decepticon exposed to the modified Twitch, Soundwave had entered the advanced stages of the illness before they were anywhere near a cure. The medic might be handy for repair, but Soundwave had no confidence that Hook could single-handedly tame this virus-turned-worm. Soundwave was essential to the Decepticons conquering the modified Twitch, and Rumble was not.
It was necessary.
Rumble had struggled in the years since Frenzy had been offlined. Rumble had tried to hide it, but Soundwave was beginning to think that Lord Megatron suspected their deception. The brothers had kept their bond intact. Since their primary function was spy-work, it had been a useful exception to Megatron's rule against bonds, but it was also an unauthorized one. Rumble was weak in the face of his brother's death and would bring Lord Megatron's wrath down on Soundwave and all the rest of his symbiotes. It was only a matter of time. When it became apparent that only additional processing power would keep Soundwave functional, Rumble was the natural choice.
It was necessary.
Rumble was their first case-study. With his death, they now knew how the modified Twitch would progress, which would allow them to better triage and potentially treat the impacted mechs. His sacrifice could potentially save scores if not hundreds of Decepticon lives.
"What do you want me to do with it?" Hook asked, interrupting Soundwave's thoughts.
When he glanced at Hook, the medic pointed to the empty shell that had once been Rumble.
"Dispose of it as you see fit," Soundwave answered and then offlined his optics to rest.
The sacrifice of Rumble was necessary, and now it was necessary to conserve his strength.
…
Thundercracker vented a sigh, but Skywarp was too agitated to recognize the annoyance behind it. He was currently pacing in Thundercracker's quarters, slowly wearing down his trinemate's patience.
"Starscream's flat on his back," Skywarp grumbled.
"You're going to be fine," Thundercracker answered.
"Easy for you to say!" Skywarp snapped, his gesture of frustration ruined when his arm twitched. "You quarantined in time! You don't have it."
"That we know of," Thundercracker muttered to himself. He wasn't entirely convinced that digital quarantine alone would be enough. "Look at Soundwave, 'Warp. He's on the mend."
"Only because he had that runt Rumble. I don't have any symbiotes to cannibalize for a cure."
Thundercracker shrugged. "Hook said they learned a lot from Rumble's death, and you know Soundwave's the best. They'll come up with a treatment."
Skywarp ignored him. "Sandstorm said Hook was the closest he'd ever seen him to actually killing one of his patients, he's so slagged off. This is another curse from Earth!"
Thundercracker noticed his wings were tense and he slowly relaxed them. "No, it's not."
"You said it yourself to Dirge and his trine – Earth is cursed. And here's another one."
"Skywarp, for the last time, Earth is not cursed, and this virus just happened. It's what viruses do. They evolve. We made up all that slag about curses just to frag with their minds."
Skywarp was undeterred, though. "It's in the official reports – Lennox killed Blackout. And we didn't make up the stuff about the ice caps or Sam, either. Just the thing about Unicron."
"Actually," Thundercracker hedged, more thoughtful now, "I didn't make it up, not entirely."
"What?"
"I mean, I embellished it a bit, but Unicron is bound on Earth. Or in it, maybe. I only overheard part of it. The Fallen told Starscream that, back while Megatron was still dead."
"Primus! You had to mention Megatron. I can't do it," he continued. "I can't. I won't! I won't go down to Hook's chop shop and let them turn me into an antiviral processor boost for Megatron or something."
"Skywarp…"
"Sandstorm was there for a thruster repair - he saw it all. Rumble was screaming and fighting and calling Soundwave every vile thing you could think of, but in the end, Hook just gave him a good zap to immobilize him and networked him in to Soundwave. Rumble was in a full-frame twitch before Sandstorm left, and he couldn't get out of there fast enough."
"We're two thirds of the First Among Trines…" Thundercracker tried again.
"Starscream can't protect us!" Skywarp shouted, wobbling when his pede twitched. "He's grounded." The shudder that followed that hated word had nothing to do with the virus.
/Skywarp and Thundercracker,/ Hook commed them. /Report to the medbay./
The two Seekers exchanged a look and both said, "Frag."
…
Hook entered the private medical suite. "Lord Megatron, I can report no fatalities today."
This was a change in Hook's usual report, but the preening fool was omitting some information and only telling the "good news." Megatron did not bother with a response, simply fixed his optics in the direction of the medic.
"I can report no fatalities," Hook admitted after thirty-two astroseconds of scrutiny. "The latest patch has proved effective in restoring neural connections. The mech is able to communicate at a drone-level intellect and has regained fine motor control in three-quarters of his appendages. With intensive restoration…"
"If it must be intensive, it is not worth our time. Barely-conscious crawlers have no place in my command or my service."
Hook tilted his helm and looked questioningly at the warlord currently confined to his berth. "It is an improvement. We have no way of knowing how effective the rehabilitation will…"
"It has no place in my service. It is of less worth to me alive."
Hook's response was less cowering this time and he spoke at a higher decibel level. Perhaps he could find new ways to motivate the mech.
"We cannot afford to simply offline any Decepticon who fails cognitive testing," Hook decreed. "Not this time. We don't have a way to stop the spread short of full electronic quarantine. Developing our own cure will require experimental subjects for further developments and we do not have an unlimited supply of warriors or, in your case, unlimited time."
"Test subjects can be produced," he growled.
"But not evaluated at the same level as a mech such as Rumble," Hook nattered. "If you would like all of your servants to be no better than a reconnaissance drone, so be it, but this cure must be effective if we are to regain any fighting strength. Or even simple telecommunications."
Fighting strength was, at the moment, a secondary concern. Their Earth-based squadron was paralyzed by the ineffectiveness of the patches and the neurological disruptions of the advanced stages. The accursed Autobots had forced them to shelter in place and wait for things to be less catastrophic. They were surviving as civilians might, hoping that a more advanced lifeform would come to their rescue, and that was a greater dishonor than retreat from battle.
Even he, Lord Megatron, was immobilized from the shoulders down to keep him from twitching off the berth. It was beyond unacceptable. So battle was a necessary step forward, even if it simply meant administering new variations of the Decepticon-developed cure to lower-level flunkies who were nearly as useless as spare parts.
"The Autobots stricken by this Twitch are not being reduced to useless drones. Further failure will result in the Decepticons finding a medic who is not outsmarted by a Prime-worshiper."
The hesitation was forty-five point six astroseconds this time and Hook's next tone was of a despicable craven seeking the smallest inkling of approval.
"My Lord Megatron, we have discussed their proposed treatment repeatedly since I received that transmission several solar cycles ago. According to my analysis, it will be effective even on those in advanced stages."
"It is tainted. Reliant on lesser technology and feebler lifeforms. Ours shall be pure Cybertronian code."
There were no conditions appended to that, no recommendations. Hook was looking for permission that was completely unacceptable to even consider.
"We will not weaken ourselves by intermingling of the code." It might not be corrupted before being sent to the medical emissary-the Prime's minions were too sentimental about life for that-but it would make them dependent on such technologies in the future or change their processes. "There will be no intermingling and when our cure restores our forces, the Autobots will not be allowed to receive it."
"Frag it, I'm not Starscream." Hook looked down at his hands and clenched them into fists. No longer adopting the voice of a bower-and-scraper, he continued, "Lord Megatron, even harvesting Rumble only prolonged Soundwave's bout of the Twitch." The medic lifted his gaze to glare at him. "It did not cure him. It can't cure him. It cannot cure you. Based on what we gleaned from Rumble, you have at best one solar cycle before you slip into neural-relay twitching, and two more after that before you go into stasis. Once you go into stasis, your antiviral systems will also go dormant, leaving you defenseless against this weapon the Autobots have attacked us with." The medic straightened. "We have their cure. If Optimus Prime's rifle was at your feet and you had no other weapon, would you hesitate to take it up? Would you spare the Prime because it is not your cannon dealing the deathblow?"
"How dare you speak to me like that!"
"I dare because in three solar cycles, you'll be extinguished." Hook turned on his heel and left.
The medic was insolent and inefficient, but his audacity left no question of his Decepticon capabilities. Trapped on the berth as he was, Megatron raged at this Twitch, at the Autobots, at the humans who had somehow, inexplicably, figured out how to bring the mighty Decepticon army to its knees. He didn't shout curses – that was for weaklings like Rumble – but internally he seethed.
It was some time before he noticed how dim it was getting in his room. "Hook!" he roared.
A few astroseconds later, the medic darkened the doorway. "Yes, Lord Megatron?" he cautiously asked.
"Turn the lights back up."
"The illumination hasn't changed." In a quieter voice, he added, "You're losing control of the relays for your neural-wiring. It was half a solar later that we lost Rumble. Soundwave was at that stage when we almost lost him. Good luck," Hook added almost flippantly as he left.
Megatron did deign to growl at that, but only once. But he could not cast out the image Hook had implanted, of seizing the Prime's weapon and turning it to his own advantage, to his own restoration and eventual liberation. If this antidote was effective, if it allowed him to rise again and lead his army victorious against the Prime, what did it matter where it came from?
It mattered that it was written by grubby little maggots. The thought would have made him shudder, were he not already immobilized.
Again his door opened, and by this point, Megatron could only make out the silhouette of Hook. "Yes, Lord Megatron?"
"I didn't call for you."
"You don't have much time left, so I figured I'd check if you had any last requests."
His smug insubordination was grating, but Megatron could feel in his circuits that the medic was right. "Who could we test the Autobots' cure on?"
"Starscream," Hook instantly answered. "His antiviral systems aren't as robust as yours and he's already unresponsive."
"Proceed."
Megatron was not conscious of any decision to offline his optics, but the world went dark in the minutes following his order to Hook. It was a practical conservation of his resources, but it also forced him to rely on auditory input. The isolation suite deprived him further of his senses, but without the prattling of the medic, he could not determine the effectiveness of his hearing and the olfactory sensors did not seem affected. In the darkness, he was aware of the frequency of every sound and the number of objects in the room, but he refused to block those lest he be caught unawares.
The greatest fault was in his processor acuity. Whether through the neural deficiency or changes in the environment, his perceptions grew unreliable as if they were completing a cycle and resetting. He could perceive no change in consciousness, but it seemed as if he were periodically and involuntarily entering recharge.
When Hook dared to lay a hand on his plate, it jolted him to a new level of alertness. A wordless roar rose in volume to drive off the other mech and it had the desired effect of forbidding physical contact.
"My Lord Megatron," Hook said without preamble, "Starscream is responding well to the treatment. He's alert and speaking with Thundercracker and Skywarp right now."
"Report in full," he commanded and the other obeyed.
As Hook reported in full, he spoke carefully by subject. Every test result had a corollary to a symptom. Every comment on returning function was one that claimed that his own current deficiencies could be defeated. The prognosis was as clinical as a transmission on radiation levels, but was included last as if the mech were attempting to give him unasked for hope.
Megatron did his best to focus on the information, but in the end, he suspected Hook knew what his answer would be. Still, for good measure, he reminded the medic, "Even in death, there is no command but mine. Give me the treatment, but by my order, you'll be sent to the smelting pit of Unicron should the antidote fail me now or in the wars to come."
…
Never again.
That very thought returned with his sight, but the intention had fomented in the bitter hours of his greatest incapacitation since the Decepticon's arrival on Earth.
"Never again" was a common warcry of the weak to swear that they would find strength to fight back. He recalled it now as a rule of law. Never again would there be a victory so beyond his reach.
Restored within a few fleeting timeparts to functionality, he marked the strengthening of his neural relays and found satisfaction in the focus that this gave him, but found his greatest satisfaction in banishing the paralysis. He did not test his weapons before full recovery, but he tested his strength in the clenching of a fist.
Never again would he be humiliated by the acolytes of the damned Prime. Hook had taken satisfaction in reporting the full recovery of Soundwave, and that meant the mech was available for reconnaissance. Soundwave's previous mission had been to get to the bottom of why Prime started sharing Cybertronian tech with the humans, but the Autobot's motives were inconsequential in the face of this virus. He, the strongest of the Decepticons, had fragging human-made code in his processors now, and the humans who wrote it must be extinguished by his own hand.
It was vital that he crush the threat himself, but it was just as essential that he, himself, set in motion the ultimate demise of this planet that both harbored and abetted the Autobots. Three times, he'd endured humiliation at the hands of the humans. He would never again abide that kind of insult. With this insignificant planetary body in flames – or better, obliterated – the inhabitants of every other world would cower at the thought of standing against the might of Megatron.
