A handful of days had blurred together, passing quickly in the commotion of transporting roughly eighty survivors of the blast to the Autobot base. Even though its location had been previously kept secret from the military, now was not the time to hoard the protection from the elements that the people so desperately required.
The blast had not only destroyed the North hangar, it had devastated the North wing, critically damaged part of the East wing, and rendered the hospital unusable. While it would take months to rebuild, the patients and their teams of doctors, nurses, cleaning staff, and officials all would need a safe location to call home in the meantime.
The large entry hangar was the main location for food, medical supplies, and many of the injured. Cots sprawled across the floor, benches and tables organized sections, and supplies stacked up along the walls. Some of the personal rooms of the base had been refurbished to allow private spaces for those that needed it; surgeries in the now clean med bay, therapies of all types held in turns in the recently unclaimed berth room, and further storage wherever it could fit in the others.
One visitor to therapy was Danielle. While her physical healing was progressing slowly, she had never been in a position to address her psychological traumas. Several therapists were on staff to help those affected by the blast, the horrors to clean up afterwards, and the grief most carried. Danielle was extended the same courtesy, and though initially adamant that she was fine, she was ordered to see a psychotherapist for at least two sessions.
Dr. Della Tornat was a woman with a calming voice and eyes like two bright pennies that never missed the tattletales in someone's body language. Her passion to help others was clear by her genuine connection to those under her care.
Her first session with Danielle, they spoke of the blast, any fears that may have arisen from the noise, the bloodshed, or the triage. Dr. Tornat quickly realised that this was not a pressing matter for the young woman, having not been exposed to the worst of the ordeal. She quickly discovered what was, however.
Danielle's NDE, or near death experience, was understandably haunting her. As their conversations revealed details of that experience, the doctor formulated a plan to address the issues at a pace her patient could handle.
Twice a week Danielle met with Dr. Tornat. Processing the existential fear was slow, but the progress was wholesome in its healing. Helping to ground her mind in reality, Danielle was able to begin focusing again on her day to day life. She paid more attention in her physical therapy sessions, gaining cardio function with stretches and lifting weight from her wheelchair so she could soon engage in full body PT. Social interactions began to produce progressively less anxiety, and trust gradually built up in the connections she was able to tenuously create.
Meanwhile, the Autobots began building a new hangar attached to their station, tall enough for their height and restricted from all except those deemed necessary by General Reims. Even the guards stationed at the new room's access points were unaware of the going ons inside. While they could check badges of those entering, and belongings of those exiting, they remained none the wiser to the contents of the many wide rectangular crates that were trucked in on flatbeds and left empty.
The military base put to work as many able-bodied soldiers as there was protective gear for. Removing the dust from halls, floors, and tearing down the remains of the North hangar was no small feat. Even though the farthest end of the East wing was relatively undamaged, Ratchet's body was no longer viable for study due to lost time. All the studied remains that had been laid out for research had finally succumbed to the sulfur, leaving only small piles of metal scraps, flaking components, and dust.
Under the protection of a moonless night, now a week after the detonations in the North hangar, two tan JLTVs had rumbled out of the East hangar. Knobby off-road tires confidently straddled the shifting desert sands. One vehicle sported a roof-mounted turret which remained empty, but the rear cargo holds of both rattled as their dense metallic payloads rolled gently with the vehicles' motion over the sand dunes. Driving through the wastelands with all navigational lights off, only the drivers and the receiver at the destination knew they were headed for the Autobot base.
Picked up in disgrace and returned to his original form, Starscream had to face his Megatron with disappointing news surely to displease him.
"You fail me yet again, Starscream." snarled the hulking Decepticon leader.
"Forgive me, Master, I did not expect that blue bot to be so utterly useless. Everything we put into him seems to have been thwarted by those scrapheap Autobots! But…. But! Not all is lost, Lord Megatron. We now have very valuable insight on how to use the sulfur weapon. If I could just have a bit more time, our recent harvest could be enough to-"
"Silence! No more of your silly experiments that might work. I've assigned you a new mission, effective immediately, and you will not again return unsuccessful or I'll tear out your spark myself. Someone more useful than you has discovered a possible new source of energon on another planet, and you're going there to find out if it's true."
Starscream bowed, shallow and shaken. "Y-Yes master. I won't fail you again."
One hazy afternoon passed into another. Now twenty days from the day of the blast, this day's sun slipped into the early stages of evening, glowing crimson and copper across the dunes. A distantly familary COM tapped into Optimus Prime. "Permission to join the team, my Prime?" came the voice.
Optimus responded immediately "Permission granted." He alerted his allies of the incoming vehicle, ensuring safe passage of the newcomer across the guarded perimeter.
A steady plume of sand tailed two highbeams as the slim silhouette streaked across the landscape. Standing outside of the compound's walls, Optimus and his team waited to greet their newest ally.
Finally pulling up to the base, the dusty-rosegold and grey Ninja H2 motorbike slid to a halt. The leather-clad rider flickered out of view as the polished craft swiftly transformed.
"We are honored to have you back on the team, Arcee. It's been too long" Optimus said.
Lithe but subtly lethal, she sauntered up and addressed him "I heard your call for any remaining bots on this planet to find you. Why now?" she asked, narrowing her optics and looking around, counting the team members before her. Hooking Optimus' gaze once again, "You're missing Jazz and Ratchet. They're not out on a mission, are they?"