A/N: And enter Knock Out, just in time to stop this fic going further into the angst burrow.
Disclaimer: Anything that's not Hasbro's, IDW's, TakaraTomy's or the Hub's, is mine.
Warnings: If you're on Ao3, just have a look at the tags. If not, it's more of the previous…
Crossfire: Part 7
Cybertron, City State of Polyhex, Darkmount Fortress…
Two orns and four shift changes had seen no meaningful alteration in Shockwave's condition. His spark and that of his sparkling were both still alight thanks to the combined efforts of the Darkmount medical team, and there were no signs of further deterioration present in either spark.
Unfortunately, that was the only upside of the entire situation.
Dreadnought squinted one optic shut as he tapped the syringe to remove any air bubbles, lined up the nozzle, and carefully injected a fortified mix of ore supplements, biomimetic gel and antibiotics, all mixed in with a dash of medical high-grade, into the energon port on Shockwave's spark chamber.
The tiny spark within the chamber clung to its parent spark and flashed a healthy shade of pink as it greedily absorbed its latest energon ration.
The adult spark remained stable in colour, but the dark grey speckled patches over its surface did not fade.
The battlecruiser removed the syringe and tucked the port closed, letting out a sigh as he turned around to stare at the Femme CMO.
"Seventh nutrient feed supplied."
Nightraider kept her optics fixed on the slide under the microscope. "Any noticeable changes?"
"The sparkling's taken to the energon well, estimated diameter is now 50 millimetres. Then again, not having to feed off contaminated energon should get its growth up to somewhere approaching normal."
"Or whatever normal is with Shockwave." Nightraider pushed herself away from the laboratory table and rubbed the back of her neck with both hands.
"He's used the reagent ingredients in the correct proportions, so they can be expelled out of his system gradually, and the steroids can be traced and eliminated, but what I can't work out is where this electrolyte imbalance has come from. Every treatment I've tried stabilises his spark's biochemistry for a few breems at most, and then reverts. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."
Glit, who was monitoring the chemical purge of Shockwave's frame, frowned and tapped his claws against the energon-stained berth. "Not even in a carrying mech or femme? Not even in Soundwave?"
The femme jet felt her spark clench as it always did at the mention of Soundwave's name. She took a slow vent of air and shook her head.
"The only times I've ever seen that kind of biochemical imbalance in a carrying mech or femme is immediately before, during, and immediately after a miscarriage. Shockwave came incredibly close to losing this sparkling, and I don't even want to consider if he lost any others before this one."
The silver feline's faceplates creased in a mixture of grief and disgust.
"So, if the stability of the electrolytes keeps reverting, that means his spark is now consistently on the verge of a spontaneous abortion."
Dreadnought looked back at the reinforced plates of Shockwave's new spark chamber. "On the verge, and every single time it deteriorates, the sparkling just clings on tighter."
"I honestly don't know which of them is keeping the other alive at this point, but right now, maintaining them both is all we can do." Nightraider stretched her arms over her head, servos audibly popping, and leaned back on her stool.
Glit closed his optics and sighed.
"Until whoever or whatever was monitoring his spark presumably shows up. The Generals and the Cobalt Sentries still haven't found out who received the mystery transmission?"
Dreadnought chewed on his lower lip plating. "That style of transmitter was used before the war for high-level military communications. The range potentially covers the entire planet."
Glit opened his optics. "Only the planet? Not the moons?"
"Yes Glit, only the planet. And Cybertron ain't exactly small."
The silver feline chose to ignore his colleague's sarcasm.
"And that style of transmitter, could it be deactivated remotely?"
"As far as I can tell, yes."
"Then logic would dictate that whoever or whatever received the transmission is not only still on Cybertron, but at a significant distance from Darkmount. Who would stand to benefit from monitoring Shockwave, and couldn't do it from within Decepticon territory?"
"…Autobots? Neutrals?"
"I would think the Autobots are the more likely candidates. The Neutrals that we have encountered have never demonstrated or even indicated that they have access to this kind of technology."
Nightraider rearranged herself on her stool so that she was sitting cross-legged. "But why would the Autobots be monitoring Shockwave? That wiring and the camera was built into the metal of his old spark chamber, and none of it was Autobot in origin."
Glit held up a claw. "That would mean that the installation occurred before the end of the Golden Age, and you had said that he had kept his frame since his adult upgrade. Unless there is an extreme size disparity between a fledgling and adult frame, the spark chamber would remain unaltered."
Dreadnought twitched a finger back and forth. "So…that wiring could have been there from when he was a fledgling. Someone was trying to monitor his growth?"
Nightraider's mind was racing. "Or perhaps making sure that he didn't go offline for any reason. Any kind of alteration like the one we found would have been spotted by a medic if he had to change spark chambers, and changing spark chambers is a process that can only be done safely by a qualified medic and spark specialist team. We know there are almost no official records for Shockwave before he entered the Iacon Science Academy, and barely any medical records. When he got his adult frame, if the spark chamber didn't change, then his guardian or creator could have made the upgrade from fledgling to adult without a medical team. It would've been perfectly legal back then, and would have kept him off the books."
Glit nodded. "So, he was being monitored by someone, someone with a major reason to keep him online and functioning, who couldn't do it without being seen or perhaps recognised, and who could potentially be anywhere, but had made sure they could keep an optic on him from the other side of the planet if needs be."
Dreadnought frowned, and leaned over to grab a datapad, calling up the military mapping application with a gesture.
"If that's the case, then what's on the opposite side of the planet from Darkmount?"
The app bleeped.
"Kaon, with Tarn as the next major city-state."
Nightraider squinted over Dreadnought's massive shoulder as she studied the readout. "The seat of the Decepticon Empire, and Shockwave's home city-state. Kaon was chosen to be the Decepticon HQ because it was the mirror opposite position to Iacon. Tarn's not that far south from Iacon, well within transmission range."
"And all the underground gladiatorial games were held there, which we know Shockwave attended, since that was how he bought you into the fold."
The femme jet briefly looked away and closed her optics. Both mechs were kind enough not to mention it.
"But placing a military grade transmitter, inside a spark chamber, which was potentially transmitting to somewhere or someone in Iacon, by someone who potentially knew that Shockwave would end up on the opposite side of the planet, and on the opposite side of the war from that person?" Glit tapped at the control panel for the chemical flush.
"If you discount wild speculation, then that's either paranoia or precognition, and I've never been a fan of either of those things."
"Why not both?"
All three Decepticons started in surprise at the sudden intrusion. Nightraider was the first to get her vents under control.
"Howlback, how many times? Don't pull the creepy stalking bit in my medbay!"
The feline Cobalt Sentry studied her claws with a deliberately unbothered air.
"You were theorising about a currently open investigation, and I was curious to see if any of your hypotheses bore fruit."
"And do they?"
"Possibly. However, a new variable has just entered the investigation, one which may put your previous theorising into doubt."
Dreadnought heaved himself off his stool and stared down at Howlback. "A new variable?"
"Yes. Specifically, there is someone here to see Shockwave. A mech. Elderly, by his appearance, and accompanied by a younger mech, possibly a late-stage fledgling. He requested Shockwave by designation, and when I refused him admittance, he requested to speak to the Chief Medical Officer, who he described as 'the femme tetra-jet with red and black plating'."
Glit, Nightraider and Dreadnought all exchanged disconcerted looks.
"OK, how…?" Nightraider glanced back and forth between the two mechs.
"…The camera!" Dreadnought snapped his digits.
"It only died after you removed it. There must have been enough on-board power to let the receiver see who interfered with it."
Nightraider nodded, then focussed on Howlback.
"So, where's this mystery mech?"
"Outside the gates of Darkmount. Obsidian and Garboil have weapons locked on."
Dreadnought and Nightraider glanced at each other, then at Howlback, then at the medbay doors.
Both briskly removed their preferred laser weaponry from their subspace; Dreadnought rested the barrel of his musket against his shoulder, while Nightraider withdrew her pistols and spun them a few times in her hands to test the balance.
"Glit, you're in charge. Comm. both of us if there's any change."
The SMO nodded once.
"In the meantime, femme and gentle-mech, shall we go and scare the mech-fluid out of the aging slagger on our doorstep?"
Dreadnought smirked and offered a sweeping bow to his two colleagues. "Femmes first."
In the shadows of the gates of Darkmount, Knock Out studied the impressive array of weaponry primed and aimed at his and his mentor's heads and held up a digit. "You do know that having three charged laser cannons pointed at us isn't likely to make us feel at ease, right?"
His mentor rolled his optics.
Obsidian grinned with all the confidence of an apex predator observing its prey at the nearest watering hole. From his perch on the Aerial Commander's shoulder, Garboil chuckled drily.
"Oh, we're fully aware."
Knock Out returned an equally feral grin in kind. "And you're not likely to deactivate them any time soon?"
"Not until you give a truly spectacular reason as to why we should deactivate them, let alone let you pass."
"I'll leave you to the senior mouth-piece then."
The elder mech glowered at his charge.
"A modicum of respect, Knock Out, that's all I have ever asked."
The Decepticon general narrowed his optics. "Knock Out, eh?"
The younger mech quietly swore under the sound of his vents, then perked up as he registered three life forms approaching. One was the femme felinoid they had encountered not three breems ago, but the two newcomers…
One was suitably androgynous, but he would put credits on it being a mech, possibly a troop carrier, and the other was quite clearly a tetra-jet femme, possibly even the one that had gotten his mentor's bearings in a spin.
The two primed laser pistols in the femme's hands made him back up slightly.
He backed up even further at the sight of the laser musket the mech was carrying.
His mentor, seemingly uncaring of the increasing range of weaponry on display, pulled down the hood of his cloak and raised his arms in greeting.
"My friends, I bid you greetings, and the blessings of Primus be upon our heads."
In response, Nightraider and Dreadnought immediately raised their weapons and fixed their sights upon the intruder.
Knock Out squeaked and ducked behind his mentor to preserve his finish if nothing else.
The femme was the first to speak. "Alright, who asked for me by description and title, and why shouldn't I blow you to the Pit where you stand?"
The elder mech paused for a second, and stepped into the light.
"Because I saw you, in my visions and on a vidscreen displaying a sight you should never have witnessed, my dear-"
He stopped and dug inside his robe for something.
Knock Out sighed and stepped out from behind the cloaked figure.
"Believe me when I say he does this for dramatic effect."
Something clicked softly within Nightraider's spark as she got her first decent look at the elder fledgling before her.
Burgundy coloured plating with what could only be described as luscious curves, slim digits and limbs, and a cranium decorated with a bright red chevron, white faceplates, and cheeky scarlet optics.
It wasn't the same sensation as she experienced while in Soundwave's presence, but this…
She had never believed in predestination, but something told her almost instantly that this mech was someone she was meant to meet.
Not a lover, not a soul mate, but a partner, perhaps a pupil.
And almost certainly a friend.
She cracked a smile at the younger mech's comment and holstered one of her pistols.
"Does the dramatic effect ever lessen his chances of being shot?"
Knock Out chuckled. "Give it two breems and see how you feel."
The elder mech paused only in his rifling to give his companion a dirty look. His expression brightened as he hauled out a hefty-looking datapad and stylus from the depths of his cloak, and tapped at an entry on the touchscreen.
"Ah. Nightraider of Vos, creation of Stridewide of Altihex and Feedback of Tetrahex. Onlined 9th cycle 018, 007th vorn of the Golden Age. Qualified Chief Medical Officer and onlining specialist as of 13th cycle 003, 017th vorn of the Golden Age, majored in spark biochemistry at the Iacon Science Academy, later branching into paediatric medicine, prior to affiliation with the rebel Decepticon movement. Adoptive sister of…dear me."
The elder mech's whiskered faceplates twitched in disapproval.
"Well. I can see why the Autobots wanted you brought in alive, if possible."
Both pistols were immediately pointed at his face, along with the laser musket, two sets of stun grenades on Howlback's and Garboil's frames, and a barrage of photon torpedoes emerging from the Aerial Commander's shoulders.
Dreadnought hissed, "Tread carefully, old mech."
Said mech scanned the assembled company briefly, then stored the datapad and stylus in his subspace with a flick of his hand.
"But I digress. I have proven that I know who you are, Femme CMO, and now I must ask that you show me to my patient."
Nightraider glared at him, old wounds opened just a touch too far.
"My patient, not yours."
"Oh no, very much my patient, my dear. Shockwave, optionally of Tarn, actual provenance classified. Online date, classified. Creators, classified. Qualified theoretical physicist and Logician First Class, as of 13th cycle 003, 017th vorn of the Golden Age, majored in pure mathematics and astrophysics at the Iacon Science Academy. Developed a controversial theory of seeding potentially resource-rich planets with treated energon, known as the Regenesis program, prior to affiliation with the rebel Decepticon movement. He became Megatron of Tarn's Military Operations officer at the fall of the Golden Age, and has been in de facto command of Decepticon-controlled Cybertron since 5th cycle 022, 048th vorn of the Great War, after the loss of both the Decepticon Star Cruiser Nemesis and the Autobot Star Cruiser Ark. Within the past six cycles, he has implanted his spark with at least eight spark polyps in the apparent hopes of carrying and onlining a sparkling. Seven of those attempts have resulted in miscarriages. The eighth attempt is currently holding on for dear life to a stable but severely weakened parent spark, and will most likely die, along with its parent, if it is not removed and stabilised within the next three orns.
"Do I need to continue?"
The femme jet hissed a vent of air through her intakes, and reluctantly holstered her guns. Howlback and Garboil deactivated their stun grenades, and a gesture from Obsidian disarmed both his photon torpedoes and the laser cannons in the turrets above.
Dreadnought kept his musket aimed at the elder mech's head.
The mech sighed. "Have I not proven my credentials?"
"You gave us a list of dates and achievements, which anyone with a connection to the DataNet could've gotten hold of."
"And the knowledge of his sparkling?"
"Is the only reason I'm not shooting you in the face."
The elder mech moved forward and placed his hand over the barrel of the musket.
"Then know this, Dreadnought of Altihex; I am all that stands between Shockwave and the Allspark. Let me pass, and there may be a chance to save the mech you love."
Obsidian and the two Cobalt Sentries traded looks, but remained silent.
"Dreadnought…"
Nightraider gently reached up and squeezed his shoulder plating.
"Let him through."
The battlecruiser glanced down at his best friend, then at Obsidian, Garboil and Howlback, then to the wide-opticked fledgling, and finally to the elder mech.
He growled and finally lowered his musket.
The tension around the group deflated almost audibly.
"…Thank you."
"Thank 'Raider, not me. And before we let you in here, what's your designation?"
The elder mech glanced back at his protégé, then at the Decepticons before him, and smiled drily.
"Call me…A3."
Glit narrowed his optics and studied the two newcomers as they were escorted into the medbay. The younger mech was all over-waxed red plating and gangly silver limbs, but there was a look of unbridled curiosity in his optics, mixed with what he assumed was habitual self-adoration. He kept a respectful distance from the three Decepticons, but oddly enough, didn't want to remain too close to the elder mech who accompanied him.
Something stirred in his memories as he got a good look at the strange mech. Scarlet and purple plating was shot with gold and silver highlights. His shoulder plating was mostly hidden under a ratty brown cape, possibly of organic make. What looked like an organic face wrap hung from his neck, revealing battered white face plates with silver highlights, and a purple twin-pointed chevron gleamed in the emergency lights.
He knew this mech. Where from, he wasn't sure.
But something about his appearance was making his electronic hackles rise.
"Any change, Glit?"
The silver felinoid shot a final, wary glance at the newcomers, and turned his attention to the Femme CMO. "All life signs are stable."
"For the moment, at least." The elder mech picked up the patient chart from the foot of the berth and scanned it. "I assume that you are monitoring what appears to be a massive electrolyte imbalance within the patient's spark?"
"Correct, and you are…?"
The mech glanced up. "A3. Just…A3."
Glit managed to keep his mouth shut over the gasp that threatened to break free.
He knew exactly who this mech was.
Three joors later…
After one presentation, two arguments, a private comm. and what could only be described as a brief pissing contest, Nightraider collated her most recent notes on a datapad and passed them over to A3. "The concentration of the electrolytes is like nothing I've seen outside of a spontaneous abortion, but for whatever reason, his spark either can't or won't abort the sparkling."
The elder mech sat back on his stool and scrutinised the spiky handwriting. "Presumably you have tried to stabilise the imbalance, possibly with supplements or even an electrical charge?"
The femme jet shook her head. "Supplements yes, but I'm not about to risk an electrical charge around a sparkling unless there's a clear indication he's about to go into spark-shock."
"Even if the charge was enough to save him, at the cost of the sparkling?"
"I'm not risking the sparkling at this point unless I have to. It's too far along for a safe termination, and an electrical charge could offline them both."
A3 set the datapad on the berthside cabinet and folded his arms across his chestplates.
"If he is on the verge of a spontaneous abortion, and yet cannot abort, have you considered aiding the process?"
Dreadnought's expression was one of revulsion mixed with a healthy dose of anger as he bolted up from his perch on the berth and loomed over the elder mech.
"That little spark is on the wrong side of premature. We get him even a few orns further along, we might have a chance of delivering early, and then putting them both on spark support. Giving him the meds now could kill both of them, and it'd kill the sparkling for certain. No chance in the Pit am I letting you do that."
"Your feelings are clouding your judgement."
"Yeah? Well, my fist's about to cloud your face if you even THINK of saying that agai-"
"Ngghh, Dreadnought!"
Nightraider quickly caught Dreadnought's fist and held it between both hands. Knock Out shifted in front of his mentor and offered him an unimpressed glower.
"How about you don't offer that as an option again, Big A?"
"Knock Out…"
A3 paused and ex-vented. "Fine."
Knock Out slid out of the way, and gently patted Dreadnought on the arm. "Stand down, big guy."
The glare aimed in his direction could have stripped paint.
He withdrew his hand and decided to take up a position on the opposite side of the berth.
A3 picked up the datapad, studied the readings again, and tapped the edge gently against the side of the berth.
"With these readings, you'll be lucky to get another two orns gestation at the most. I would honestly recommend getting any equipment you have for premature sparklings prepped and ready."
Nightraider closed her optics. "And Shockwave?"
"Start purging the chemicals from his spark…and hope for all our sakes that he survives."
The femme jet bowed her head. "Glit. Start the spark purge and monitor both of them."
Glit nodded sadly. "Yes, CMO."
"Dreadnought. Get all the neo-natal equipment we have up here and start testing it. I'll check on everything and confirm what we need."
"On it." The battlecruiser reluctantly departed for the storeroom, but not before shooting a quick look at Shockwave's spark chamber.
"A3. Stay the frag where you are."
The elder mech glowered, and resumed his reading. "Charming."
"And Knock Out."
The red fledgling held up his hands. "I know, I know; I have no lines in this play."
"Not quite."
For the first time in three joors, a grin passed over Nightraider's faceplates.
"You're still under the age of majority, correct?"
Knock Out shot a wary look at the femme jet. "…Yeeeeeeees?"
"Then you either fall under the care of your guardian if present-"
"-Trust me, the old mech's not my guardian-"
"-Or the resident foster carers on base."
Both A3 and Knock Out looked baffled. "Foster carers?"
"An established couple who look after, fuel and house any sparklings, fledglings or foundlings on base."
A3 snorted. "I know what foster carers are, my dear. But in the Decepticon ranks?"
"We don't make a big song and dance over it, but yeah, we get orphaned or abandoned minors in here often enough to need foster carers. If Red doesn't have a guardian available, he goes to the carers."
"And they are?"
Nightraider tapped her comm. link and smirked. "OK big guy, you're up. Knock Out, leave and behave, and you'll be allowed back in for the evening shift."
She retreated to the rear of the medbay and started to spray her hands with disinfectant as the main doors slid open.
Knock Out turned and stared upwards…and further upwards.
He felt very, very small, very, very quickly.
"…Eeep."
A gargantuan mech, covered in battered blue, gold, and silver plating, stepped into the med bay. Four scarlet optics gleamed from under a pointed visor topped with golden chevrons, while two massive blue and silver tipped wings flexed behind his body. Silver plated fingers with razor-sharp claws glinted under the beam of the emergency lights. A heavy grey laser rifle was strapped to his back, and something which looked worryingly like a flail dangled from his left hip.
The winged mech loomed over him, a cold look in all of his optics, and opened his mouth…
"Deathsaurus, why are you trying to frighten this poor young mech?"
Deathsaurus's shoulders slumped at the sound of the vocoder behind him, a resigned yet fond look lighting his optics.
"Once, just once Esme, I'd like to inspire a little awe in a youngling, just, just a little smidge, nothing drastic."
He tucked his right wing behind him, revealing the slender red and silver form of Esmeral, trying and failing to look stern as she stared up at her sparkmate.
"Good luck with that, dearspark, every youngling in a fifty mega-mile radius knows you're a soft touch when it comes to imposing your authority on them."
The femme griffin patted the Decepticon general on the wing as she moved past him. The gentle swat to the aft plates in response earned Deathsaurus a mock-scolding look and a pointed finger from his partner before she turned her attention to a confused Knock Out.
"You must be Knock Out. I am Esmeral of Tesarus, one of the resident foster carers on base. The mech-mountain is Deathsaurus of Kaon, commander of the Dark Fortress, and the other resident foster carer."
Knock Out looked up suspiciously at the now-smirking kaiju, arms folded across his scratched chestplates, and grinned maliciously. "So…you're the one who Star Sabre won't shut up about."
Deathsaurus's smirk dropped off his faceplates. His optics narrowed.
"Whatever that little red glory-hog's told you is a total lie."
Knock Out, sensing an advantage, pounced.
"So, he didn't de-energise the Dark Fortress and trap it in a gravity cell at the heart of the Dark Nebula?"
The kaiju growled. "Slagging hypocrite. Makes all that noise about sneak attacks being cowardly and what does he do, fragging little…"
Deathsaurus folded his wings around his shoulders and settled into a well-practiced mumbled sulk.
Esmeral shook her head and sighed. "Possibly not the best opening line you could have picked, but never mind."
She took Knock Out's hand and the leading edge of Deathsaurus's wing, and gently but firmly pulled them both in the direction of the med-bay door. "Now, I'm guessing you'll need some fuel, some recharge and a visit to the washracks. Come along with me, and I'll show you to your quarters. Deathsaurus will show you to the refectory, and while you refuel, you'll need to tell us all about yourself and your area of study."
The young mech blinked, but allowed himself to be pulled along, rather unused to the waves of calm kindness emanating from the slender femme.
"Area of study?"
Esmeral's voice echoed down the corridor as she led both her newest charge and her pouting bondmate out of the med-bay. "Well, yes, I'm assuming that however long it takes to treat Shockwave, you'll be staying in Darkmount, and surely your guardian wouldn't want you falling behind in your studies…"
"So, what's Red's story?"
A3 raised an eyebrow, but didn't look up from the datapad. "I don't know what you mean."
A burly hand plucked the datapad out of the elder mech's hands and set it on the berthside table. Dreadnought dragged a chair over from the somewhat desultory waiting area at the front of the medbay, and placed it in front of A3, parking in it before he had the chance to move.
"The kid's too young to have been onlined before the war, and there's no Autobot insignia, so that puts paid to him being onlined by the cause. I did a quick check on the DataNet while you and 'Raider were yelling at each other over preserving the power supply lines for Shockwave's arm cannon. Onlined in Nyon, but no creators mentioned; he said you're not his guardian which I can believe, since no decent guardian would bring a fledgling into a potential danger zone.
"So. What's. Red's. Story?"
The elder mech sniffed derisively. "You assume there's anything significant to tell. Younger brother of a pair we found wandering the streets of Nyon, and he's been apprenticed to me for the past 20 vorns. The elder brother's already taken the Autobrand, and we expect him to do the same."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Well, there's always the Neutrals. But it would be a waste of his talents."
"What if he joined the 'Cons?"
A3 glared up from under his silver-plated eye ridges.
"Don't be foolish."
Five joors later…
Evening rations in the company of Deathsaurus and Esmeral had been interesting to say the least.
He had been aware of Deathsaurus by reputation, but had never heard even a whisper of Esmeral's existence until now. The Femme Contingent within the Autobots tended not to speak of their Decepticon opposites except in extremely impolite terms – the Decepticon Femmes were all malicious, energon-thirsty harpies fully capable of murder and exquisite cruelty, and most of whom had only achieved their positions by acting as berthwarmers for more easily influenced mechs.
The group of mechs and femmes Knock Out had been introduced to in the refectory turned that idea on its head almost immediately.
Leozack, Killbison and Hellbat had acknowledged their commander with a wave and quickly shuffled over to make space for the newcomers, while Slipstream, Flamewar and Thunderblast had dragged their chairs and rations over, ready to interrogate the newcomer.
One breem in their combined company had quickly made him realise the Femme Decepticons were far more intelligent and nuanced than their counterparts gave them credit for, and as for the mechs…
Well, Hellbat had certainly seemed receptive to his charms.
At least, he'd assumed that was why Deathsaurus had picked up the navy and silver mech and thrown him headfirst out of the refectory with the instruction to "take it to a cold washrack and keep it to yourself, he's underage".
Esmeral had simply handed him a heated beaker of mid-grade and parked herself between him and the other femmes, the oddly pleasant aura of sheer protective den-mother radiating from her in waves.
Refuelled, reloaded and ready to irritate, Knock Out cheerfully strode down the featureless corridor and into the darkened medbay.
His optics took a few astro-seconds to adjust to the gloom, but he quickly made out the form of Shockwave's disembodied cranium and spark chamber. Nightraider was still online, wearily watching the Military Ops officer's vital signs as they beeped monotonously on the monitor.
Of his master, Dreadnought, and Glit, there was no sign.
"Am I intruding?"
The femme jet glanced over her shoulder and tilted her head. "Not at all."
Knock Out trod quietly over to the berth and seated himself on a stool.
"So, where's the rest of the team?"
"Dreadnought and Glit are recharging in my office. If you're looking for A3, he's in the stores with Howlback. Needless to say, none of us trust him around chemicals without an escort."
"But you trust the non-medic feline – no offence intended?"
"None taken, and she knows what to look out for."
The red plated mech leaned back on his stool and studied Shockwave's spark chamber with cautious optics.
"Do you know…why he did it? I mean, from what I've heard, he, well, doesn't seem the type to WANT to be a creator."
Nightraider sighed. "The most we got out of him was something about weapons potential, but his notes refer to something called a Targetmaster, which Dreadnought thinks might be a derivative of the Headmaster process."
Knock Out frowned in confusion. Off of his look, Nightraider cleared her vocaliser and attempted to explain.
"What do you know about Headmasters?"
The younger mech hissed a vent of air through his dental plates. "Not much; it involves the removal of a Cybertronian's cranial unit, and through binary bonding, an organic or cybernetic lifeform takes the place of the cranial unit, but the combined form uses the power of two brains or CPUs and two sets of thought processes. All theoretical though, I've never seen a record of it having been done, much less succeeding."
The femme jet nodded. "That's the bare chassis version. The theory comes from notes made by the Guardians of the Ferrous Youth Sector in Kaon, and research done on and by a telepathic mech spawned from the Well of All-Sparks."
"Soundwave of Kaon. He was the comms. mech for the 'Cons, right?"
Nightraider forced herself to answer civilly. "Communications Officer and Third in Command of the Decepticon Empire. Show a little respect."
Knock Out raised a perfectly waxed eye ridge at the femme's tone, but decided not to push it.
"Soundwave was a telepath; unless the Autobots have one in hiding, he's the only telepath on record for either side. His scientific speciality was furthering research into the so-called paranormal fields; psychokinesis, ESP, telepathy…everything Cybertronian scientists had previously discredited and were forced to rethink after Soundwave had been onlined. One path of interest, and one that had been observed in medical science, was the bond between a creator and their creation. Almost all our race has it in some shape or form, but after Soundwave had borne his creations, he had encountered a far stronger bond than most, and it enabled him to give orders, make and receive psychic suggestions, and much later, to guide and by guided by his creations on the battlefield.
"He and another scientist, Brainstorm, had postulated that that bond could be forged between two living beings, and enable two brains and two thought processes to combine within one body – absolutely formidable on the battlefield, and off the battlefield, they would be beyond friendship, beyond family. Shockwave's Targetmaster theory seems to run along similar lines, but it's between purely cybernetic lifeforms, and it involves binary bonding two beings together, with one becoming a living weapon to be wielded by the other. They would be able to pass on some feedback and tactical knowledge to their handler, but nothing as strong or as intimate as the Headmaster bond."
The young mech stared at a corner of Shockwave's berth. "Did either of them…ever get further than theory?"
Nightraider shook her head. "No idea about Brainstorm, but Soundwave had been interested in researching it once he had taken the steps to become a creator. That idea pretty much died as soon as Ravage was onlined. He's never tried to tamper with the bonds between himself and his creations, and he's never seen them as weapons."
"You seem very sure of that."
The femme jet stood up. "I helped online all of his creations; I'm the one who developed the process for a single Cybertronian to become a creator, without the need for a bondmate."
A3 chose that moment to emerge from the stores with a filled syringe in his hand, Howlback trotting out behind him. "So, in fact, you are partially to blame for Shockwave's condition."
Nightraider turned to face him, a look of incredulous anger screwing up her faceplates. "Excuse you?!"
She pointed a shaking finger at the empty frame in the berth opposite. "How in the name of Primus am I responsible for that?!"
She could hear shuffling and clanks behind her, indicating that Dreadnought and Glit were waking up.
"You have known him, professionally and personally, for a considerable number of vorns, correct?"
"Reluctantly, yes."
A3 set the syringe on the berthside table and folded his arms across his chestplates. "Then you are fully aware that he has a voracious appetite for scientific knowledge and theories. You perfected the process for spark parthenogenesis and chose not to share the exact process with the wider scientific community."
"Because for every successful scientific discovery and process, there's always going to be someone who tries it for themselves, and it almost inevitably results in death and/or destruction. I freely admit that I tampered with the chemical conditions in Soundwave's spark to be able to independently generate sparklings. His telepathic abilities were what helped to stabilise the process; frag it, they're what made it possible in the first place!"
She took a deep vent of recycled air. "I knew that if I published my exact findings, all we would end up with would be a load of dead or mutilated mechs and femmes. As soon as the process was refined, I kept one complete copy of my notes and destroyed everything else. That copy was supposed to have been destroyed before I was expelled from the Iacon SciAc faculty."
"You didn't honestly think that Shockwave would fail to keep those files for himself, did you?"
"…I thought…in hindsight, pretty naively, he would respect my wishes."
A3 gave her a look that would have cut solid titanium.
"You know Shockwave, and you know that his scientific curiosity will override almost any social grace you can name. You were a means to an end to further his research. Not what he was designed for, mark you, but given his origins, somewhat understan-"
Nightraider's optics flashed. "Origins?"
A3's optics narrowed in response. "Classified."
The unmistakable whine of a laser musket being removed and charged filled the medbay. Dreadnought snarled from behind Nightraider, "Declassify them."
A3 glanced between the mightily fragged-off femme, his somewhat nervous looking pupil, and the barrel of Dreadnought's weapon.
Howlback emerged from the medical store, ruby optics narrowed and fixed on the strange mech's back. Glit remained in the doorway of Nightraider's office, his own optics darting between the members of the assembled company.
Blue optics focussed on the gutted remnants of Shockwave's frame, and closed briefly.
"The Targetmaster process..."
He sat down on the edge of the berth.
"The theory itself is sound. It was discovered back at the start of the Golden Age, then all knowledge of it was removed from Cybertronian society. Shockwave…somehow, he managed to excavate and recreate that knowledge, but his execution of it…well. It would never have worked on him had he tried for a thousand vorns."
Dreadnought kept a hand on his gun as it charged. "Why not?"
"Because one who is already a Targetmaster weapon themselves cannot become a Targetmaster head to another weapon."
Nightraider stared and sat down heavily. "…What?"
A3 ex-vented. "Shockwave is a Targetmaster weapon. You've seen his alt-mode, have you not?"
"Yeah, he's a gun-former, I know that."
"A 35-foot long laser gun. You never thought that was unusual?"
"Of course I did. But I could never track down anything of significance relating to his creation or alt-mode."
"And you never thought it odd that his alt-mode was so large?"
"Well, I know it made finding replacement parts a slagger. He couldn't make himself any smaller; it's like he didn't have any mass-shifting capabilities built into his frame."
"Oh, he does."
The femme jet looked askance at him.
"You were merely seeing them at the smallest size for his frame. His true size was mode-locked upon his onlining."
Dreadnought gritted his dental plates together. "And his true size?"
"Given enough fuel and enough space to transform properly…about 1500 kliks." [1]
Nightraider shot to her pedes. "Oh, frag off! That's about a quarter of the radius of Cybertron, who the slag would even need a weapon of that size!?"
"Primus."
"No need to bring him into this, thank you."
A3 rolled his optics. "No, I mean, Primus. He would need a weapon of that size. After so many thousands of vorns in stasis lock, we didn't think his own weaponry would reactivate in time to fight the Chaos Bringer, whenever he arrives."
The femme jet stared at him for a few moments, and then up at Dreadnought. "Tell me you're ready to fire that." She nodded at the laser musket.
"Primed and ready." Dreadnought hoisted the musket up to his shoulder and centred the target on A3's chest plates.
"Femme CMO, I am speaking the truth."
"Er, Primus needs a giant-aft gun to fight Unicron? Forgive me if your 'truth' sounds like a load of lugnuts to me."
Knock Out finally spoke up. "It's not."
"Oh really?"
"Really."
"Knock Out, hush."
The younger mech growled. "I'm trying to back you up here, Trion. A little gratitude for once might be nice!"
A deathly silence fell over the medbay at Knock Out's words. The young mech quietly reviewed what he had just yelled, and slapped a hand over his faceplates.
"Aww frag."
Nightraider's dark grey faceplates drained of all colour as she backed away, her jaw dropping open in horror.
Dreadnought's grip on his laser musket faltered and finally gave out, the gun hitting the ground with a resounding CLANG.
Howlback's optics widened, but she kept her position and started to charge her own weaponry.
"I knew it."
Glit finally emerged from the doorway of the CMO's office and silently padded across the room until he was standing in front of the seething elder mech.
He bounded up onto the berth, keeping his gaze fixed on the ancient features before him.
"Those paint colours. The cloak. The fact that Howlback couldn't get accurate ID readings on your faceplates."
He gestured at the mech's cloak. "That tablet…that's the Covenant of Primus, isn't it?"
The elder mech stared down at him with something that looked like dread on his faceplates.
"And you hold the Quill."
One brief nod was granted to the silver feline.
"A3."
"Yes?"
Glit smiled weakly. "It's not much of a fake designation."
"I had…hoped…that it would be enough."
"Not for those who were built in the earliest vorns of the Golden Age. Not for those who might remember enough to know that the Thirteen weren't always the stuff of legend."
Nightraider's CPU was racing. "The Covenant and the Quill. You're-"
"The Archivist. The Guardian of All That Is and Was." Knock Out's voice was flat.
The elder mech nodded at the shocked group.
"My designation is Alpha Trion. I am the Third of the Thirteen Primes. And we created Shockwave."
TBC
[1] The size of Cybertron has never been consistent in any continuity, so I've taken it to be the same size or slightly larger than Earth. 15,000 kliks is 15,000 kilometres, almost the same radius of the Moon.
