The Honor in Duty
Chapter 17
Unwelcome Visits
Autobots did not belong in this place. It was a neutral zone of course, but it was no place for an Autobot nonetheless. Everybot knew that.
The highgrade here was the best in the sector though. Cheap too, if you could manage to impress or unnerve the bartender. Being a bar frequented by the Decepticon higher-ups, this was never an easy feat, but she always managed. The commander would have her helm if he knew she was here again, but she fought well today, so he would eventually let it slide.
"Ayyye, Arcee! Good to see ya again, femme."
She looked up at the bartender, her optics fluttering minutely. Her helm felt a bit heavy, but she grinned at him, raising her cube of highgrade in a toast, downing the rest of its contents with a laugh.
"I'll have another three of these." She leaned her chin on her hand and snickered to herself, three more. Only three more, that's what she would do. Self-restraint was a very important thing to maintain. With self-restraint came self-respect, and therefore the respect of others. "And then I think I might go talk to that mech over there that keeps looking my way."
The femme reached for the next drink, missing, but swinging her hand wide as though she was just picking it up with a flourish. Masterfully done. She smiled and took a small sip, savouring the burn as it went down.
"He seems stressed out, don't you think, barkeep?"
The bartender stopped polishing the cube in his hand for a moment to look over at the teal and grey mech that she was watching, "I reckon he's worrying about ya. Ya'll be drunk off your circuits if ya're not careful."
She spun around on her chair, laughing as the world spun for a few seconds after she stopped. She pressed her cube to her lips and took a long draught of the burning neon pink liquid, "I'm aaaalllways careful, you know me."
He shook his helm at her, rolling his optics, "That's the problem, femme. Hard battle today?"
Her spark tightened and her processors were clear for a moment. Her squadron of twenty-seven bots came back as a mere nine. They were tasked with evacuating the last batch of neutrals in Altihex. The Decepticons outnumbered them five to one, the city had been under siege for three quartex.
"The fools watched their city burn and our troops fall around them and refused to leave, spouting some self-righteousness nonsense about having a duty to their home." The two-wheeler looked at the cube of highgrade for a moment. Her processors were way too clear. She threw back the rest of the cube and picked up the next, downing half of it to welcome the blissful haze.
Of course, drowning her grief in highgrade wouldn't change anything. But it would make her care less, and she was down for that.
"That's pretty impressive."
She swivelled on the spinning stool to look at the owner of the strange voice, teetering precariously on the stool's edge as she felt the world spin again. The lights in the bar had become a pink and purple haze over her optics. Very pretty.
When she regained some semblance of balance, she seized up her new company for a moment, optics hovering over the molded armour of his waist and hips before meandering their way up to his face. She took a satisfied swig of her last cube. Huh, that was fast. Three cubes gone already? No wonder her helm felt so fuzzy and heavy. Slow and steady wins the race, but mech she was really going for it.
"You here to buy me another drink, handsome?" The pink and navy femme giggled, shoving the empty cubes over the edge of the counter with the palms of her hands like a cyber ninja. She laughed as they shattered on the other side of the counter, earning her a glare from the bartender.
"I think you've had plentya drinks for one night." The strange, well-built mech told her, his voice gentle. He placed a steadying servo on her shoulder fin as she wobbled again, "It's not safe for a pretty little femme like you to be like this here."
She mulled over his words, sneaking a hand over and grabbing the drink the bartender was still mixing when he turned his back. She snickered at the bartender for not knowing better than to turn his back to an opponent. But wait, the hot mech just said she was pretty? Or was he saying she was pretty little? Hm. She couldn't really remember where he had put the emphasis.
Finally she decided to ignore that dilemma by addressing the first thing he said, "I think I could still kick your shiny aft after ten more of these."
The femme giggled, drinking the stolen drink and setting the glass back where she'd gotten it. It fell over with a little tink and started rolling towards the edge of the counter. Not wanting to cause any more damage, she threw her frame across the counter to catch it, only her servos were too long and she ended up launching it off.
The three bots stared at the shattered glass on the bartender's foot for a few klicks. Her optic shutters fluttered a few times and she let out a soft little, "Oh."
"What's yer name, mech, you know this femme?" The bartender asked, still glaring at the glass in his pede.
She felt the strange mech wrap his arm over her shoulder and pull her off the counter and back onto her wobbly pedes. She giggled softly as she failed to find her balance and collapsed against the mech, "Yeah, handsome, what's your name? I'm Arcee."
"The name's Tailgate." He smiled down at her in a way that made her spark dance, "Let's get you home."
There was something inexplicably beautiful about the racing fear in her spark. Every inch of her frame, cast gold in the faint glow of her biolights, burned. She peered at the 'charging mechs from where she was crouched, hands gripping the table's edge between her pedes. Her battle mask was raised, concealing the small grin on her elvish face.
Cliffjumper stirred in his recharge, murmuring to himself, wrapping his arms tightly around his pillow. His servos were stroking the pillow softly, but his optics glistened with coolant.
Regardless, it was clear he was too deep in his recharge cycle to wake.
She tilted her helm to watch Skyquake with fondness in her optics. The jet lay on his chest, wings relaxed and shifting idly as he slept, stabilizers flaring open and closed in rhythm with his spark. She felt drawn to him, yet at the same time her spark continued in its frenzied anxious pulsing. It was more difficult than she would have liked to admit to stifle the exhilarated giggle that wanted to leave her vocs.
The little femme stretched one pede down from her perch, resting it silently on the floor. The other followed and she slid over to the door, glancing at Skyquake's 'charging faceplates one last time.
Safe.
Arcee was out on patrol with Bulkhead, they would not be back for an orn. Jetfire always recharged on Wednesday evenings, once per lunar cycle: he would not discover her. Ratchet was in the brig running his fortnightly check-ups on both Barricade and Airachnid. The children were away on an end of planetary cycle activity and would not return until next Saturday.
That only left Optimus, Bumblebee, and herself unaccounted for.
Optimus would be in his office until the others awoke; he was obsessing over the codes still, attempting to decipher the locations of the remaining Cybertronian relics.
She would of course help him later on, but she had requested to visit Griffin Rock again to check in on the younglings. Which was a lie, and she had spent the past three cycles in hiding as a result of it. It really was a shame that this was a human facility, otherwise the extensive ventilation system would have been very helpful. No matter, Soundwave had not made her his second in command without due cause.
The door made a swishing sound behind her, causing her to freeze for a moment.
The little femme sent out a pulse scan, checking everything in a ten-meter radius of herself. All clear. It was three a.m., who would be up?
She sucked in a heavy vent and steeled herself, slipping through the shadows towards med-bay.
Sweet relief, here I come. Terabyte thought, a small smile touching her lips at the thought of assuaging the fire in her life-En. I know Ratchet is only making sure I do not get addicted again. But I am better now. Addiction gone. We beat that in Griffin Rock six months ago. Never mind that that's only twelve orns. I am better now, this is just a conscious, controlled decision to help myself relax a little. Nothing wrong with that.
She huffed at herself as she slid into the med-bay, glancing over her shoulder when she heard what sounded like a footstep. Was she forgetting someone? She had been careful to account for everyone... It was Tuesdays that Bumblebee stayed on the base right?
It doesn't matter anyway, I am not addicted, and I am not doing anything wrong.
Which was of course why she was sneaking around and had lied to everyone about going to Griffin Rock. Definitely not the behaviour of someone who was doing something wrong.
An image of Skyquake and the Prime looking down at her with disappointment flashed into her processors and she shook her helm. No, no, no. She was fine. She was the top of her field for vorns. The best spy Decepticon or Autobot forces had ever seen. Maybe a slight overstatement, but whatever.
By Cybertron, her life-En was a raging stream of lava coursing through her. Which drawer had he gotten the sedatives out of? She could probably remember, but it seemed like less effort to just open each and every one until she found what she was after.
Gold optics lit up and she grinned. Her armour fluttered with her excitement as she snatched up a handful of the sedative chips, sliding one into the slot in her wrist immediately. She sighed as the relief danced up her arm and through her frame. She smiled. Her life-En sang. Her spark rolled happily in its chamber and the dark cloud around her processors retreated. The throbbing in her helm retreated to a dull thud on the edge of her awareness.
Clarity, thank Primus.
Terabyte grabbed a fistful of the pain-chips and threw them into her subspace with a flourish, then paused. Reluctantly she fished out a handful, leaving herself with a dozen chips in her subspace. Ratchet would of course notice if she took too many.
She took a step towards the exit, then darted back and slid another chip into her wrist. The helm-ache disappeared completely. She couldn't sense the cloud in her processors any longer. The femme straightened her dorsal plates and repositioned her armour to a sophisticated, defensive flare, her biolights glowing brighter than ever. She wiped her faceplates clean of expression and readjusted her battle mask.
Perfect.
Casting her gaze over the med-bay one last time to make sure everything was as Ratchet left it, the little two-wheeler vanished into the hidden spaces of their headquarters to hide for another orn until it was time for her to "return" from Griffin Rock.
Two Orns Later
You're very guarded today.
She rolled her optics, but she didn't lower the firewalls Ratchet poked at in gentle inquiry. Discomfort wafted from her consciousness towards the medic as Jetfire he was checking the integrity of her spark chamber. Her chestplates were folded open and pulled aside to give him direct access to her spark.
Of course she hated being so vulnerable. But it was nothing new for her in recent years. Neither was having the medic in her processors. He was supposed to be screening her processors for traitorous coding or intent, but it was a matter of protocol more than actually doing anything.
Perhaps I merely wish to be alone in my own mind, with my spark safely enclosed in its chamber.
Its severely damaged chamber. As he tugged another dent free, the femme winced.
Terabyte let out a vent of air, turning on a playlist in her helm. The playlist was labelled "Spa Days" and filled her mind with soft, mellow music. Behind the safety of her firewalls, she mused over Ratchet's keen understanding of her mental processes. He had spent too much time here; it was discomfiting.
It seems as though your processors are very clear. You haven't had a single stray thought about sedation today. It's good that you're doing better.
Though his words were innocent enough, she could feel that it bothered him. Her mind was too clear, it was causing him suspicion. He was no fool, she would need to be careful in her trips to the med-bay if she wanted to continue having this clarity of mind.
I would not be able to recover so well without the support of the team. She thought softly, stifling another grimace as her spark fluttered in the open air, brushing his servo. Her spark retreated to the corner of its chamber as though offended by the intruding hand.
Slag, but she was glad she had slipped herself another pain chip before coming in for her check-up.
Later
Terabyte stretched her arms over her helm, bending from side to side to loosen her stiffened dorsal plating. She ran her optics over her decryption sequence, proofing it for any obvious errors before she dared run it through the Iacon database she and Orion Pax had stolen as they escaped the Nemesis.
For five months she and the Prime had worked on decoding coordinates from this data; pouring over it every spare groon. Something about this time felt different though. This was it, she was sure of it.
Finally.
The idea had come to her a few days ago and she had worked on it without so much as a refuel break ever since. She had a few errors on her HUD informing her that she was low on power, in need of a recharge and defrag, and over-stimulated. A little stimulant in an Energon never hurt anyone. She brushed aside the errors absently, waving her servo along with the internal action.
She looked through the holo-display to make optic-contact with Optimus, "Shall I allow you the honor, sir?"
"Are you sure that this will work? This method is rather… unconventional."
This idea of hers was nothing short of genius. Rather than attempting to decipher the code and write an algorithm accordingly, she had written a program that would – using what parts of the cipher they had managed to determine already – run every decryption key ever used in the War or recorded before the War, through the database to find the closest match, then predict what alterations may have been made by Soundwave, based off of her own experience with the mech's methods.
The program would then eliminate anything irrelevant, and spit out a cipher that they could then use to translate the information with ease. The whole matter would take a few joors and they would not even have to stay to observe. It would do all the work while they ran operations as usual, checking in when she got a ping to say that it was finished.
The little femme raised an optic ridge at his hesitation, slipping another chip into her wrist before swinging around the console with a spring in her step. Maybe she should ease up. She would need to make another med-bay raid soon. It was fine. The plan was flawless, nothing to worry about.
She felt a thrill of elation course through her and she grinned at the Prime. "Of course it will work. 'Conventional' methods have gotten us nowhere in the past six months. I may be skilled in conventional methods, but Soundwave is far more so."
The Prime regarded her carefully, an unreadable expression clouding his bright optics before he hummed in agreement, "If we are to win this War, we must do all that we can to gain an advantage over the Decepticons."
He shrugged one shoulder imperceptibly, shuttering his optics for a moment as though to ask aid from the Primes of old. The mech reached out, pressing his square servo into the launch key.
With baited vents, the two watched the holo-display swirl with the new input, glyphs and figures rolling faster than their optics could trace. When it all came to a stop, the hidden coordinates of the ancient relics would be revealed. At long last, the Autobots would be the ones with the edge.
Given how demoralized they all were from recent events – Unicron, Insecticons, loss after loss – it was about time they got the advantage. Something to prove to all of them that there was hope in this War. She shook her helm, trying to rid it of the tiny voice telling her this was too easy of a solution.
Optimus smiled at her, his lip-plates turning up minutely. It was rare for the Prime to provide any more of a smile than that. He inclined his helm and made towards the exit, "While the program performs its task, I will take my leave. I recommend you do the same, Lieutenant. Perhaps a good recharge would be in order."
She bowed her helm, humiliation warming her faceplates. Instinctively her battle mask rose to conceal her shame. Surely it was not so noticeable for even the Prime to mention it to her so openly. It was understandable, she had to complete the program while the inspiration was fresh in her mind. The Autobots did not need to concern themselves with her rest habits or her ability to care for herself. She was doing perfectly fine.
As the Prime left, her gold optics narrowed as she in her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of something in the swirling mess of symbols. She growled in the back of her vocalizer as she saw it again, a red glyph amid the pale blue. Another. And another.
The program should not be eliminating information so early in its course…
Within moments the display came to a halt. A jumbled, fragmented, and decidedly scarlet-hued halt. Terabyte ran from the door to the console, leaning on both hands to stare into the display, shock written all over her faceplates. As though staring at it would change what she was seeing.
"No… no, no, no." The two-wheeler spread her hands through the air, zooming in on the point at which she had planted the program. "Slaaaaaag."
Directly in the centre of the third line was a painfully obvious error. A spelling mistake of all things. Cybertron, what a way to ruin such a perfect scheme. Thank the Allspark Prime had left before it fell apart. Although, perhaps it would be much easier if he had not left. At least then she would not be expecting to explain what had occurred.
At least then the accusations of sabotage could have been assuaged.
She vented heavily and pressed a servo to her helm, stroking the curved "m" shaped plate framing her face in an attempt to caress away the helmache blooming behind her optics. The femme ran a recovery file through the system, sighing as it – expectedly – came back empty with an error stating that there was nothing to recover.
Terabyte slumped forward, laying her helm on her arms for a few klicks to collect herself. Perhaps it would be better to delay the news of her program's catastrophic failure. Informing the Prime that the program failed and lost vital intel that they had risked their sparks for mere moments after it was started sounded a lot worse than saying that the program was nearly successful and simply failed in the final phase. Perhaps she could even blame it on some form of security malware in the database.
Yes, that would do nicely.
The little two-wheeler left the station and locked it down to prevent tampering. Should the Prime try to access it and find it locked, she could simply say it was a precaution to ensure nothing went wrong while it was unattended.
When she got to the main chamber, Bulkhead was just at the end of his animated retelling of their escape off the Nemesis, his audience of children – plus Cliffjumper, also sitting cross-legged on the floor – absorbed in the tale.
"-when the Insecticons suddenly backed off, I got inspired by my proximity to the power core, and," The mech brandished his wrecking ball, grinning at the eager and awed expressions of the children, "did what I do best!"
"You trashed Megatron's ride like a rock-star in a hotel room!" Miko grinned, swinging her hands in an excited gesture, then playing a few chords on an imaginary guitar.
Meanwhile Taia, who'd grabbed Raf's arm when Bulkhead punched his fist into his palm, relaxed and looked up at Miko with adoration. Terabyte made a note in her mind to watch the young girl carefully in case she decided to follow in Miko's wild-card tendencies.
"I recall having a bit more of a role in this daring escape." She commented, smirking at the Wrecker, who gave her a little shrug.
"What can I say, TB, the kids love a role model."
She rolled her optics, turning to Arcee as the older two-wheeler stepped forward, casting her gaze between Bulkhead and where Optimus stood with Ratchet over the bridge console. Shifting her weight to one pede to take up her classic hand-on-hip pose, the femme spoke, "We should hit the 'Cons now, while their vulnerable."
Ratchet frowned, drawing up a list of the Autobots resources compared to what resources they had observed the Decepticons to have. "Megatron's warship may be grounded, but let's not forget that we remain vastly outnumbered, especially since he has added the Insecticon hive to his ranks."
"Then maybe it's time for me to call in an airstrike."
Terabyte quirked an optic ridge, scanning the room for Agent Fowler. Somehow the man managed to just appear in the room whenever large-scale military force seemed to be a plausible solution. That fleshling and air strikes went together like Wreckers and havoc.
"Or for us to consider more extreme measures, Agent Fowler."
From where he sat on the floor, Cliffjumper straightened, his sky-blue optics piercing, "You don't mean... the spark extractor?"
Terabyte flinched, her processors reeling as she found herself engulfed in a memory that she had no no knowledge of having lived through. Her helm pounded.
The sun of this world shone a gentle, rosy hue over the teal grasses of Sylmarion V. Thick, lazy rays of light bounced off the ice rings that filled half the sky in a never-ending rainbow. Such a surreal view, twisted skyscrapers stretching up to touch the pink sky, rainbow planetary rings dancing over the sky, thin wisps of blue clouds swirling up above her.
The femme wondered if she would ever get used to the new, sublime beauty of each new planet that the Nemesis landed upon. She wondered how the others could already be complaining about being stuck down here.
Their mission on this planet, aside from the standard restock and refuel, was to negotiate with the Sylmari scientists for possession of a new weapon of mass destruction. This WMD was powerful enough that its reputation alone had led Lord Megatron to veer off course by a hundred parsecs in order to obtain it for the Decepticon cause.
She was of course, not cleared for field duty yet, so she was exploring the planet freely. Well, relatively. Technically speaking she was on ship leave, escorted by Meister. But whether Soundwave had assigned him as her escort or not, she would have spent her ship leave with the mech anyway.
"Skyquake would love this place." She said softly, accidentally bumping into the dark minibot beside her as she twirled around, watching the sparkling rings above with shining optics.
Meister's engine gave a low, amused rumble. He gripped her shoulders to stabilize her before pushing her away with an obligatory growl. "Watch where y'walk, femme."
She smiled up at him, though her mask remained firmly raised. She stooped down to pluck a puffy yellow thing that the locals told her was called a 'flower', and stuck it behind her finial, "Look! It matches my bios."
The mech shook his helm at her, his deep burgundy optics twinkling in spite of his scowling expression. The scowl faded for just a moment and he muttered, in almost an entirely different voice, "Prowler woulda liked this planet."
She tilted her helm, "Who's Prowler?"
When he spoke again the strange accent was gone, "Just an old friend. Terminated few vorns back."
"Which battle?"
"The Battle for Uraya."
The femme hummed softly, remembering the pain of acid eating through her frame. "I was at that battle. Funny coincidence, I was very nearly terminated by the Autobot's Lieutenant Prowl the same day you lost Prowler."
He just grunted, not adding a comment.
It was over a groon later when Meister finally spoke again, "What is this WMD that we are collecting here?"
Sitting under a colossal 'tree' the two-wheeler drew a cube of Energon for him from her subspace, then pulled out one for herself and leaned back against the rough, semi-soft surface of the organic structure. "It's classified. Megatron, Soundwave, and Starscream are the only ones who know the details of it."
His EM field pulsed with displeasure, but he quickly masked it, "Not curious?"
"I am curious..." She looked across the waving teal fields to where the silver spires curled up like corkscrews into the sky, "But we were ordered to stay outside of the citadel, due to the city's largely Autobot and neutral population."
Meister raised an optic ridge, "Surely the suburbs don't count. The people of this city will be proud of this accomplishment."
"So we should be able to hear about it from a bragging citizen!" She grinned behind her mask, downing her fuel and jumping up to her pedes. Admittedly she was more than a little bit bored after a joor of wandering the fields. Her single yellow 'flower' had become a full crown about her helm, and she was sure she looked ridiculous, but it was good fun.
It had been five vorns since Skyquake had left on his mission. In the three vorns that she had known Meister, she had learned to be happy again. She would never stop missing Sky of course, but she had come to accept that he was gone and she still had a life to live. He would be so disappointed in her if she had failed to recover from his departure. Life was meant to be lived not just borne.
She felt Meister's gaze follow her as she marched purposefully towards the city centre, determination set in her gold optics.
Terabyte's self-awareness returned for a moment. She was puzzled, feeling nausea settling into her tanks in spite of the beautiful memory. She knew that memory, it was a beautiful memory. She had never fully been able to remember what happened afterwards. Hurt. Betrayal. Soundwave's continual surveillance of her afterwards. Pain stabbed through her spark as another memory flooded behind her optics.
She stared at the civilian, a large, gentle-faced neutral boatformer, dread and shock numbing her senses. "So, this device is designed to draw the sparks of its victims into itself, not extinguishing the sparks, but rather harness these imprisoned sparks to increase its range and power?"
"Precisely!" The mech said, beaming with pride, fiddling with a datapad in his servos for a moment before turning it to show her an image of himself and a laughing femme who had her arms thrown over him, "My sparkmate is one of the lead scientists behind its development, would you believe it?"
Her mask hid her disgust as she replied in a sweet voice, "No, she is lovely. You are a lucky mech."
Not hearing his reply, she walked off, not caring that it was terribly rude. Meister followed her, his expression dark. Her armor flared out stiffly as she wandered the streets, helm ringing with possibilities.
"Why would Megatron want such a device?" She mumbled, optics scanning the streets for a familiar face, or at least a friendly insignia. Someone who could explain this to her. "I can see the Autobots using this sort of monstrosity, but surely we would not? Perhaps for a bluff?"
Meister snarled at her, "You're a naive, youngling fool."
The femme stopped in her tracks, staring at her friend with confusion. "Wh-"
"If Lord Megatron threatens ta use this weapon, he won't hesitate ta make good on tha threat."
She frowned as that other voice from before seeped through his speech. It felt familiar, but she could not quite place why that was. A feeling of unease settled over her, but she brushed it aside. He was probably just thrown off by the implications of such a powerful weapon. Meister was a friend, he had not failed her for three vorns, he would not fail her now.
A scream tore through the air and they shared a look of urgency before sprinting in the direction it had come from, throwing themselves forward into their vehicle modes to race through the winding paths of the city.
Klicks passed, more shrieks and wails urged them forward. Crowds were now streaming in the opposite direction, making it difficult to navigate the streets as people tried to flee whatever was happening. She transformed, wading through the panicked river of frames. Stretching her hand out ahead of her, she managed to grab hold of Meister's hand, narrowly avoiding being trampled by the crowd of bots much taller than herself.
Finally they broke through to a clearing, the smell of singed metal wafting through the still air. Standing high above them in the center of the plaza was Megatron, posed triumphant atop a monument scrawled over with a writing that she could not read. The intricately carved glyphs along the bottom of the monument pictured a number of figures bowed in prayer or performing other rituals.
Then she saw the bodies.
Hundreds of bots. The color was fading too slowly, but their gaping open chest-plates revealed empty spark chambers. Each victim's faceplates were contorted in a horrid expression of agony, mixed with fear. She shuddered, feeling ill.
"Ah, Terabyte." Megatron crooned, his optics a strange shade of purple, wild and roaming.
She had not seen him since before they left Cybertron, but she was certain his optics had been red the last time she saw him. The rust about his mouth, the wild look in his now violet optics: both were new and deepened the unease in her spark.
"Femme, we hafta get outta here..." That voice. The familiarity tugged at her processors as Meister tugged on her arm.
"My dear femme. One of the only remaining femmes in this army of idiots." The silver warlord laughed as her armor shrank closer to her frame, "Come closer, Major. I sense a certain, distrust about you."
The little spy eyed the round emblem-like device in his hand. Her gold optics shifted to glance over the fading frames. Her voice trembled faintly, "What did these bots do? Sir?"
"Femme!" Meister hissed, crouching slightly into a battle stance, looking for all the world like he was about to open fire on the Lord Protector.
Megatron's engine rumbled, "Young, naive little femme."
She sneered behind her mask at being called that for the second time this cycle. Her tanks still churned from the destruction around her.
"Is it not enough that they are Autobots and sympathizers?" Megatron queried, his scratchy voice insulting, "You joined the Decepticons to avenge Protihex did you not? This city supports the cause that brought your home to ruin. Brought all of Cybertron to ruin."
Her spark flinched at his words, the memory of Cybertron shrinking in the distance as they were forced to leave their homeworld fresh in her mind.
The Lord Protector held up the device, "This is the answer. A simple press of a button and this whole planet will be cleansed of the Autobot filth living on it. The rest of our fleet has retreated to a safe distance."
"Will we not also perish?" She asked softly, her optic ridges pulled into a pensive furrow. He seemed to not care that the three of them were in fact also on the planet.
He laughed, leaping down from the monument with a crash, creating a crated of crushed earth where he landed, a web of cracks spreading around him. "Anyone touching the device, directly or indirectly, is spared.
"Prove your loyalty, do your creators proud." Megatron said, offering his hand to her, glaring at Meister, "Make your choice: Decepticon, or Autobot."
Meister held her back and her optics went wide. Her processors made the connection that had been nagging at her ever since the mech's first change of accent.
"Jazz."
Her voice came out as a pained whisper. A million secrets, plans, and schematics rolled through her processors. She had given him knowledge of all of them. Ideas, strategies, operations. It could not be true. Three vorns. How could he have held his cover so well? For three vorns?
She tried to pull away, her gold optics wide with shock, but his hand stayed firmly wrapped around her wrist. His visor shone bright scarlet for a moment before he touched his free servo to the side of his helm and the facade shattered, revealing the cerulean visor and silver paintjob. Even the armor morphed back from the bulky, spiked armor of Meister down to the slick spy-grade light armor.
"Femme..." He pleaded with her, having the nerve to sound as betrayed as she felt, "Terabyte, please, sweetspark..."
"Spy." She spat, charging her cannon, "Three vorns. All of it a lie."
He cringed, optics darting over to glance at Megatron as he watched the drama he caused unfold with a smirk, "Terabyte, it wasn't all a lie. Ah swear it wasn't. But femme, he's gonna kill ya for this. Come with me femmeling."
The pain in the mech's optics was clear even through the visor. It almost made her want to believe that he meant it, but of course, he was an Autobot infiltrator. One who had tried to kill Skyquake and herself on multiple occasions. Was all of this for his cause, or was it merely a sick scheme to get revenge on her? Prowler. She was a fool for not making the connection.
Jazz glanced towards the device in Megatron's hand again. Optics narrowing into golden slits, the femme tensed, flaring her armor and bracing herself to leap. She could not let the traitor – the Autobot – take this victory over her.
Three vorns of what she had dared to believe was friendship, in which he used her and lied to her every cycle.
"Lying, sparkless bots like you are the reason I joined the Decepticons." She sidestepped around the mech, positioning herself squarely between Jazz and the device.
"While appreciate the gesture, the Lord Protector hardly requires your protecting." Megatron drawled, towering over her, but making no move to remove her.
Jazz watched her cannon with wary optics as the Lord Protector placed a heavy claw on her shoulder, piercing through the thin armor of her neck. She clenched her denta, but he did not pierce deep enough to draw life-En. In the corner of her optic she could see him pressing his servo down to activate the device.
A sob reached her finials and she looked around to pinpoint the source. It was a youngling, kneeling among the massacre, wailing over the frame of its carrier. Her spark froze, time seeming to stop as she moved to help the child, but found herself restrained by the silver warlord's grasp.
"Wait!" Her voice joined Jazz's as they watched in horror as Megatron activated the device.
The child looked up at them, coolant streaking his round face.
The two-wheeler stretched her hand out toward him, knowing it was too late. Her servo caught Meister's - no, Jazz's - hand and she gripped it tightly as the scene unfolded before her. The temperature seemed to plunge and her finials flickered as the device emitted a supersonic shriek that she knew the others could not hear.
The minibot traitor tugged at her hand, fighting to get loose. He was yelling at her, but she couldn't hear over the wailing of the device. The rosy skies lit up with a bright light, and she felt almost as though she were back in the Allspark for a klick. Screams tore through the air, drawing her back into reality as the spark extractor's whine dimmed to a low hum.
In front of them, the youngling's wide optics turned dull, his chubby features twisting with pain and confusion. He opened his mouth to scream, but before he could make a sound, his spark chamber flung open, casting his spark out and sending it hurtling towards her. She shrieked, ducking as the spark was sucked into Megatron's hand.
She tried to pull away, away from him, away from Jazz, but she could not bring herself to move. Jazz too had ceased his attempts to remove himself from her grip, and instead stood there in shock, holding her hand tightly as they watched the whirlwind of souls swarming past them, being absorbed by this doomsday device.
As the flood of sparks flew straight through them to their destination, she was overwhelmed with the feelings of each spark. Pain. Fear. Resignation. Regret. Love. The last thing each spark felt before it was wrenched from its frame. She bent over and gagged, lowering her mask quickly to pour out the Energon she'd consumed with a friend, now enemy, only moments ago.
In a matter of moments it was over. The sparks stopped pouring in, the air returned to the soft warmth it held before, the sky regained its rosy hue. Her spark felt empty, as though it too had been sucked out of her.
Crash.
The youngling's frame fell atop his carrier's, the color trickling away to gunmetal gray.
The jarring sound caused their little group to burst into life. Megatron threw her aside with a disgusted snarl just as Jazz yanked free of her vice-like grip, dislocating her wrist joint with a pop. She rolled as she fell, softening the landing. Jazz lunged at the Lord Protector, snatching the spark extractor from his hand and slicing at him with the poisoned blade.
Purple life-En oozed from the wound, prompting her to scan it swiftly. Later she would have a conversation with Knockout.
Still clinging to the spark extractor, Jazz dashed to her side, holding out his hand to her, "Please Terabyte, come back with me. He'll kill ya for trusting me, please..."
She hissed at him, reaching out with her right hand as if to take his hand, then with her other hand plunged her energy dagger into his side and twisting it sharply as she pulled it out, her tanks still churning.
Lowering her mask to spit life-En on his hand, she growled, "As if your kind won't do the same. Primus help you, if that weapon is used again, you will pray for death."