Chapter 2
Home on the Firing Range
From her seat next to the DHD, Teyla stared idly at the Stargate below. It had been three years, and she still missed the old gate room in the central spire of Atlantis. There at least, the light was natural. The makeshift embarkation room used by the Compound Alliance, which had gone through a number of iterations before reaching its current state, consisted of a heavily-shielded and almost-always sealed aircraft hangar, isolated from the rest of Diego-Garcia airbase, which had served as headquarters for the joint organization since its formation. Atlantis itself now sat about a mile and a half off the coast of the atoll, making it relatively less conspicuous than it had been when it had first arrived, landing barely a few kilometers out from San Francisco Bay.
As she gazed down at the silent ring of metal, she felt someone step up behind her. She glanced back over her shoulder. Her companion was a balding man with black hair beginning to show the faint beginnings of gray and dark-rimmed glasses, all sitting on top of a smartly-pressed and equally-dark suit.
"Mr. Woolsey!" she exclaimed, rising from her seat in surprise, "I was not aware you were here!" He smiled at her, a warm, honest expression of greeting.
"I thought I'd drop in and congratulate our heroes of the hour. It's not often I get out of my office on the West Pier." he remarked. Teyla nodded in understanding. When the CA had been formed, Woolsey had been chosen to help lead the body overseeing its functions. Eventually he had simply taken up residence in one of the outlying towers of Atlantis, as he felt his office in Geneva, where the committee usually met, was simply too far from the action to provide him with an accurate outlook on the trials those he looked out for faced on a daily basis. Secretly, Teyla felt that another part of the reasoning was that he missed the excitement he had been privy to when he'd been in charge of the Expedition, back when Atlantis had still been Earth's first and last major outpost in the Pegasus Galaxy.
"Well you're just in time. Colonel Sheppard and Lieutenant Colonel Lennox called in about twenty minutes ago. They said they were handling the final details of the cleanup and would be returning shortly." she said, before she noticed what the man's body language was saying. He wasn't just here to say hello.
"Is...something amiss?" she asked, looking him up and down. He let out the breath he'd apparently been holding.
"Caught me red-handed." he admitted, "I'm afraid I'm here to deliver some...unusual news,"
"Is it about the Galactic Defense Pact?" she guessed. For the past three months, Woolsey and other visible members of the political machine behind the CA had talked of little else. The agreement was supposed to be the foundation for the creation of a multi-planetary treaty of mutual defense, binding all its members to one another with promises of mutual defense against external threats. It was, according to all Teyla had heard, the first step towards truly picking up the pieces after both the collapse of the Goa'uld Empire and the subsequent invasion by the Ori, both of which had left the galaxy in chaos., Now with the emergent threat of the Lucian Alliance, a criminal organization that had become a major political power almost overnight, and the insidious, lurking danger of the Wraith Hybrids whose arrival had prompted the CA's formation, not to mention the Decepticons, it had been decided that for once, Earth and its allies needed to present a single, unified front
Woolsey sighed, obviously knowing there was no use trying to avoid the issue. Teyla had been trained in the art of diplomacy, first by her position as leader of her people back in the Pegasus Galaxy, then again by her time working with Doctor Elizabeth Weir, the original commander of the Atlantis Expedition.
"Unfortunately. yes." he said, "I'll be giving a speech later today, but I felt I should probably inform Colonel Sheppard and the rest of the leadership personally about what's coming." He frowned worriedly. "Of course the chief problem is that I'll have to make another trip to inform Optimus as well. I couldn't get ahold of him by radio before coming." Teyla waved her hand assuringly.
"He was already on his way. Apparently there has been some disciplinary issues regarding Sideswipe and Sunstreaker." she explained. As if on cue, in the middle of her statement the heavy sound of the hangar's main door sliding open filled the room. She looked past Woolsey, who had already turned around, to the ray of sunlight peeking in as the heavy metal barrier was slid open just enough to admit access to a rumbling Western Star 5700 Custom semi-truck, it's cab and engine block painted with red flames on a blue background. As it passed the threshold, the door rumbled closed again, and the truck approached the metal gantries that had been set up around the gate, in a fashion similar to the arrangement of the old gate room in Atlantis' central spire, with the DHD and main controls set off to the left in a raised position.
Woolsey smiled at the sight of the Autobot leader.
"Ah, good. That'll save me a trip." he said, turning to the metal stairs next to the control station that led back to ground-level. Teyla followed him as the truck came to a stop about thirty-five feet from the doors, then began to reconfigure itself, rising, splitting and unfolding until it had assumed a roughly humanoid shape, or more specifically, the shape of a knight in armor, with heavy pauldrons and leg-guards decorated with the same blue and red designs that had covered the truck. From thirty feet overhead, the magnificently articulated face of Optimus Prime glowered towards the Stargate, metal lips pressed together in a firm, disapproving scowl. Then his white-blue optics spotted Woolsey and his expression softened somewhat.
"Mr. Woolsey, I admit I did not expect to see you here so quickly." he said, still frowning, though not as intensely. Despite Optimus' prior bad experience with politicians, he had found Woolsey at least was one he could trust, even if he wasn't always on the right side of an issue. "Are you here in an official capacity?"
Woolsey, to his credit, did not flinch at being addressed by Optimus, as many politicians tended to. He did, however, straighten his tie and look slightly uneasy.
"I'm afraid so." he responded, before hastily adding, "Though not in regards to what you're probably thinking. I only just heard about this...unrest in the ranks from Mrs. Emmagan." Optimus' gaze did not falter, but he crossed his arms and looked expectant.
"Very well." he said, "Is this an issue that can wait?"
"It could, probably...but it won't take that long, and you especially should be aware, since what I have to say has large consequences for your people as well as mine."
At that moment, Amelia Banks, one of the primary technicians in charge of Stargate Operations, called out from her seat overhead.
"Incoming wormhole!"
With a familiar KA-WOOSH, the empty space in the center of the Stargate's circumference filled radiant energy, bursting outwards to form a column of power three meters tall, before collapsing back to leave only a rippling, blue-white vertical 'puddle' behind. Immediately the puddle was overlaid by a semi-transparent barrier, which crackled to life automatically as the wormhole stabilized.
"That ought to be Colonel Sheppard." Woolsey said, just before Banks declared: "Receiving Colonel Sheppard's IDC!" The force-field iris lowered, and Teyla hurried towards the reception ramp which was already surrounded by a number of CA soldiers, armed and ready should the gate decide to disgorge Decepticons instead of Autobots and their fellow troopers.
The liquid surface of the puddle rippled and a large black GMC Topkick slid through, rolling down the ramp into the space provided for it by the ever-ready soldiers.
"Clear!" called the head of the force, one First Lieutenant Robert Epps, Lennox's second-in-command. He lowered his weapon, along with the other soldiers and the GMC's doors opened to disgorge tired and dirty-looking soldiers. There was much talking as the men congratulated each other and started up conversations, while moving aside so the Topkick, which was actually Ironhide, could pull out and make room for the rest of the Autobots behind him. As he rolled through the space between the high gantries on either side of the gate, he transformed, coming to a stop in front of Optimus, saluting in a fashion similar to a Roman Centurion.
"I'm glad to see you in one piece, old friend. At ease." the Autobot leader commanded. Ironhide nodded and stepped to his commander's side.
"If I had stasis cuffs, I would've used 'em." growled the Autobot weapons specialist, "The little punks need a lesson in discipline if you want my opinion."
"I fear the problem is less easy to diagnose than that. I should not have assigned Sunstreaker to active duty so soon after his return." Optimus said, chiding himself for his mistakes as he usually did. Meanwhile, it was Ratchet's turn to emerge from the Stargate, the puddle making a slick rippling noise like disturbed molasses. Lennox and Sheppard were the first to disembark from the medic's cab, Sheppard gravitating towards Teyla and Woolsey on instinct. Rodney got out close behind and followed, until both were standing by Optimus' feet.
"Optimus." the Colonel said by way of greeting. The Autobot leader returned his greeting with a nod.
"Colonel." he replied, before continuing, "I hope my subordinates did not give you too much trouble."
"I have mixed feelings." Sheppard admitted, "On the one hand, they did, by all accounts, give Ratchet a much-needed hand...but on the other, they disobeyed orders, and while I know I'm not exactly in a position to point fingers…" He trailed off, because he really wasn't in a position to point fingers, and Teyla knew it. Rodney looked like he wanted to add a sarcastic comment but was resisting with some effort.
"It will be dealt with." Optimus replied, saving Sheppard from having to elaborate further, "In the meantime it seems Mr. Woolsey has something to tell us."
"I was going to ask…" Sheppard said, looking over at the man in question, who gave a small smirk. About then, Lennox and Epps trotted over to join the group, with Ratchet close behind, transforming as he moved. He too, saluted Optimus, though with a grunt that suggested it wasn't easy. Unlike Ironhide, Ratchet was not a master of hiding his wounds. What would be the point?
"I will require your testimony later." Optimus said, "But for now, I suggest to go to medical and tend to yourself." He glanced over at Ironhide. "You should accompany him. I'll deal with our disobedient duo myself." Ironhide looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded and transformed, following Ratchet without further comment.
At that moment, a pair of Chevrolet Corvette ZR1's rolled out of the gate in quick succession, one gold, one silver. The pair transformed, becoming Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, who rolled to a halt in front of Optimus. Neither saluted.
There was a long uncomfortable pause, and Teyla got the feeling that she was seeing a scene similar to when she had caught her son Torren doing something he shouldn't and was waiting for an explanation. The pair glowered at their leader in silent, sullen defiance. Surprisingly Teyla thought she could detect disappointment beneath Prime's disapproval. That would be just like him. In the three years she had worked alongside him, he had always held himself responsible for the actions of his soldiers. He was like John in that respect, she reflected.
"This is the third time you have acted contrary to your given orders." Optimus said, his voice as calm as a placid lake. There was a hint of ice to it though, suggesting it was a lake in autumn, "Would you like to explain yourselves?"
"No, sir." the pair replied, their voices bitter and angry. Teyla knew they were twins, like Mudflap and Skids were. She still had yet to fully grasp what that meant for Cybertronians, though it was obvious they shared feelings and thoughts at some level deeper than humans did. There was another long pause. Then Optimus let out a sigh, his hard expression softening into resignation.
"Very well...you leave me no choice." he said. The gold and silver twins stiffened, as if bracing themselves for some harsh punishment, though Teyla knew that was not Prime's way. That didn't mean the consequences of their actions wouldn't sting though.
"I cannot have soldiers who will not follow orders, and who place lives at risk for the sake of personal glory." Optimus said, his tone firm and brooking no disagreement, "You are to report to Ratchet for any medical attention you require, after which you are confined to barracks for the next three quartexes."
"Is that it?" Sunstreaker asked, his voice seething with anger, "Aren't you going to assign us to the little scout's command? That's what you do with all your broken soldiers, isn't it? You push them to the side where they won't cause trouble."
There was a long, shocked silence. No one spoke, or even moved. Even the men near the gate had stopped their chatter. Everyone was wearing either an expression of surprise or unease...everyone except Optimus. His face wore an expression of frosty disapproval. For a moment, Teyla thought he might strike Sunstreaker...but that would not be like Optimus. Not once in all the time she had known him had he lashed out in anger, So when he spoke his next words, she felt her jaw drop.
"Are you broken?" he asked. If the hangar had been silent before, then it might as well have become a vacuum after those words. Optimus hadn't hit Sunstreaker physically. No, he'd done much worse.
"What?" growled the gold Autobot, his hands clenching into fists.
"Are you broken? Is that what you think of yourself? Do you believe you are unfit for duty?" Optimus said, forging ahead with brutal bluntness Teyla had never heard him employ.
"You-" Sunstreaker began, his tone unnerving even his brother, who had not lost his angry expression, but at the same time was showing signs of worry at his counterpart's behavior.
"Because if you are, you must tell me now, or the next time you go out on a mission, any actions you take that result in the endangerment or the loss of your allies lives will be your responsibility, and yours alone."
Now Teyla worried that it would be Sunstreaker who would attack Optimus, and unlike his superior, Sunstreaker did not have a bottomless pool of self-control. Like his silver brother, he was brash, impulsive, not to mention arrogant. More than that though, he often seemed to have what John had termed 'a chip on his shoulder'. He took offense easily, and seemed perpetually insecure, more than someone with his personality type really should be in Teyla's experience.
Of course, she had to admit to herself that she barely knew the Autobot. She hadn't even been there when he'd landed, being on a vacation with Kanaan and Torren at the time. However, what little she had seen of Sunstreaker's behavior reminded her of worryingly of someone else she had known once, who had been 'damaged', as Optimus put it, emotionally, not to mention physically, by experiences on the battlefield. The parallels in their actions, now that she was beginning to see them, were making her very, very uneasy. In fact, this whole confrontation was seeming all too familiar for her liking, bringing to mind one that had taken place in Atlantis' medical center, years ago and a galaxy away. When she felt the metal of the gantry supports on her back, she found that she had unconsciously taken several slow steps backward to distance herself from the standoff...and that she was not alone in doing so. Rodney and Lennox had cautiously moved back, leaving the trio of Autobots in an open space.
For nearly a full two minutes, Sunstreaker stood there, his posture threatening, hands clenching and unclenching as if he wanted to extend his swords and gut Optimus there and then. Suddenly though, Sideswipe raised one hand, then placed it on his brother's shoulder.
"Come on, Streaker, let's go. It's not worth it." he growled. While his tone was not conciliatory, it seemed to snap his golden counterpart out of his internal debate on the pros and cons of mutiny, and he visibly relaxed. The pair slid on their wheel-feet to Optimus' left, the towering Prime turning to keep them both in his field of vision while they rolled past.
"This isn't over." grunted Sideswipe, glowering at his superior, before the two transformed back into their vehicle modes and rolled slowly towards the hangar exit, where light was again shining through from the outside, the doors having already been opened to admit Ratchet and Ironhide. To their credit, nobody started to speak again until the two were well out of sight, speeding across the tarmac to the building that served as the Autobot barracks.
"Whoa." Sheppard finally said, "Someone needs some attitude adjustment."
"I apologize for their behavior." Optimus said, slowly turning back to his human allies, "If I had known the problem was this severe, I would never have allowed them to accompany you Colonel." Teyla released a breath that she been holding without realizing it.
"Is there something we should know about them?" she asked, "I apologize if I seem forward, but-"
"There is no need to apologize." Optimus said, cutting her off, "The fault is mine. Even on Cybertron, those two were never the most reliable of soldiers, but they did their duties when called to. Now though…" Optimus trailed off, before shaking his head in what seemed to be self-deprecation. "I have had my suspicions for some time that Sunstreaker may have been a Decepticon captive at some point in his absence. Ratchet was sure to do a thorough check if he was a plant, but nothing appeared."
"You told us about this." Lennox said, his brow furrowed, "But you said you thought it wasn't a problem."
"I may have been wrong. I thought he was merely held for a brief period...but his behavior of late has me wondering if that is not the case. If he was held for an extended period at a Decepticon detention center, it is likely that the trauma I am now sure he is concealing is far greater than any of us suspect."
"Jesus H. Christ, Optimus!" Lennox groaned, "You're telling us this NOW?"
"As I said, I only had my suspicions. His refusal to discuss his captivity was an issue I have meaning to address, but now I see I may have waited much too long."
"I'll have the guard on the barracks doubled." Sheppard said immediately, earning him a surprised look from Optimus, to which he responded: "I've seen what trauma can lead someone with something to prove to do. I was too occupied and trying not to die to help the last person under my command work through it before he went rogue. I won't let it happen again."At first Optimus looked confused, but then he must've worked out just what he meant, like Teyla had.
"But John," she said, "Sunstreaker is not Ford." She regretted her words immediately, seeing the grimace of painful memories flash across her friend's face like a brief breeze.
"Maybe not." he admitted before she could backpedal, covering up his internal regret with his best mask of commanding seriousness, "But either way, I won't give him the opportunity to do something to do something stupid he'll end up wishing he hadn't. We've got enough of that already." With that he turned back to Woolsey and away from Teyla, showing he was not happy with her bringing up the name of their old teammate.
"Bad idea." muttered Rodney next to her, "He's already annoyed with me because I mentioned him too."
"Avoiding mentioning a source of guilt is not a way to deal with it." she shot back in a low tone as possible, so that it would not be heard by the rest of the group, who were now moving away from the gate as some large trucks pulled through, carrying assorted parts of the Decepticon bodies recovered by cleanup crews from the battle zones on Langara.
"Why is he even like this? I thought he had come to terms with this years ago. We spoke about it when he rescued me from Michael."
"It's pretty recent. I was wondering myself, so I...did some digging." Rodney said, looking rather guilty. Teyla wondered if she should chide him for snooping into their friend's private matters or congratulate him for having the initiative to show deeper concern for John. It always amazed her how much Rodney's relationship with Jennifer Keller was changing him. She brushed aside the disapproving half of herself and gave him a questioning look.
"He's been fighting for years to keep Ford listed as MIA officially, but the family is holding a funeral. They've put it off for years, but they've decided to go through with it recently." Teyla sighed at John's retreating back. She couldn't blame Aiden's family for wanting closure of some kind. There had long been a divide between them and John, who had forever blamed himself for failing to rescue the young man when he'd had the chance. It was what had driven him to search so hard for her when she had been kidnapped by the Wraith Hybrid called Michael, the progenitor of the very beings that had prompted the Compound Alliance's formation, and to not stop until he had rescued her, going so far as to undertake a boarding action onto an enemy ship against orders while bearing wounds from being buried under a collapsing building.
She sighed. Sometimes she worried John was more of a danger to himself than to his enemies. She was proud to follow him, and to call him her friend, but he could be such a fool…
-O-
If Ratchet had been human, he would've let out a sigh of relief upon entering his med-lab...or at least that's what they called it, anyway. It consisted of little more than a heavily-adapted, over-sized workshop, made to service transport trucks and other light vehicles before the Autobots had taken up residence. The majority of the modifications had been made by Ratchet himself, including the custom-made lifter-beds that could support an Autobot in either vehicle or humanoid form. It wasn't much to look at compared with some of the places the medi had worked back on Cybertron. The Great Academy of Iacon in particular had been possessed of some of the most advanced medical technology and well-trained doctors this side of what the humans called the Virgo Supercluster. Now Ratchet was reduced to working with a mish-mash of ultra-advanced and ultra-primitive methods to care for his patients. As he transformed, Ratchet allowed himself a small smirk. It was business as usual.
"You, on the exam table. I want a look at that shoulder." he said, pointing at Ironhide as the weapons specialist rolled into the chamber behind him and transformed. He grumbled, but obeyed, trudging across the room to one of the six 'beds' that lined the long structure. Ratchet followed, taking care not to exacerbate his own wounds. He ran a quick diagnostic on his medical systems before activating his examination laser, carefully running it over the rent armor and gouged circuitry.
"Rumor has it you detached your cannon during your battle. Funny, I always thought it would take the tidal forces of a black hole to part you from those guns." he said dryly as he went over the device's results internally.
"It was that or let him skewer me. And I did get it back." Ironhide grumbled. Indeed, Ratchet could see the massive barrels of the two weapons beneath the protective casing of his friend's arms, still there as usual. One did have more grit and dirt than the other, however, proving the tale he had heard from the humans riding in his cab on the return journey was true. He pursed his lips.
"Well he certainly managed a number on you regardless." Ratchet resisted the urge to wince as his instruments relayed the data from his laser to his central processors, before extending some of his most frequently-used tools to go to work on the wounded 'Bot. Ironhide had a method of fighting that was simultaneously reckless and efficient. Normally the 'reckless' would cancel out the 'efficient', but not so with Ironhide. He often came away damaged, but his opponents almost never came away at all. Even so, Ratchet could not help but wonder if his friend's luck would someday run out, and it would be his body on the last of the six beds, the one reserved for what counted as 'autopsy' in his field.
As if in response to that thought, the sound of trucks pulling up outside reached his audials, and he glanced over his shoulders to see the trucks carrying the remains of the Decepticons from Langara pulling up outside. He growled in irritation.
"They could have at least waited to until I was done with you." the medic griped, even as he started preparing another workstation for the new arrivals.
"Eh, I'll live." grunted Ironhide, nudging his friend in the direction of the vehicles, "Besides I doubt there's much left to sort through."
After the formation of the Compound Alliance, and the subsequent discovery that the humans they had once written off as primitives who had barely breached their atmosphere were anything but, the Autobots, at Optimus's decision, had relaxed their policy on sharing technologies, at least in part. It had been agreed, after some debate, that any Autobots who fell in battle would be treated as honored soldiers, and be buried at sea. Much like the scout Jazz had been, Primus rest his Spark. Decepticon remains, however, were to be treated as tactical and strategic resources, and would be studied by teams of engineers under Ratchet's supervision. Any weapons recovered would need to pass muster with Optimus and be given allowance before being examined. The same went for any other recovered Cybertronian technology.
"Have you found anything useful yet?" Ironhide twitched as he felt Ratchet apply some basic treatments to help his shoulder mend. "And I meant for us, not for the squishies."
"They prefer if you call them by their names, or at least their species." Ratchet chided, jabbing with his instrument hard enough to make Ironhide flinch. "And no, nothing other than minor improvements to some of our small arms and systems. Most of which, frankly, I'm hesitant to implement."
Personally, Ratchet didn't mind the dissections. The Decepticons had done far, far worse to the Autobots throughout the course of the war. One only needed to look at Arcee or Skids and Mudflap to see proof of that. He did however mind having to watch over the human engineers as they clumsily rummaged around in the enemy cadavers like children playing around in energon pools. The only reason he bore with it was Dr. Ulian, the engineer in charge of monitoring the teams alongside Ratchet. Their talks allowed him to distract himself during the gruesome work. This time though, Dr. Ulian was nowhere to be found, and protocol stated that dissections had to take place within one hour of the delivery of recovered remains.
As he finished his work, Ratchet detached himself from his patient, rolling his optics as Ironhide winced, and stalked over to the trucks. He might as well get the bodies on the beds for when he was ready. He looked back over his shoulder.
"Don't move, or I swear I'll have you'll be lubricating from your kneecaps for the rest of the solar cycle." he growled. Ironhide smirked at the threat, though he knew better than to do other than instructed. Ratchet did not tolerate disobedient patients.
As the yellow and red Autobot approached the trucks, he frowned. Something was wrong. At first he found himself wondering if some of the Kelownan citizens hadn't taken an opportunity to snag bits of the Decepticons for themselves as memorabilia, but he quickly discarded that notion. What little he had seen of Langara suggested it was not a rife with foolhardy 'tourists' as Earth was, and besides, his quick visual exam revealed that everything that was supposed to be present was. So why was he still uneasy? It took a full one-hundred and fifty microseconds for him to realize what we was overlooking.
The engineers and technical personnel unloading the parts gave cries of complaint and protest as Ratchet reached into the bed of the truck carrying Barrage's remains and retrieved the Decepticon's severed head. In the shell of one empty optic, a dim light flickered where there should have been darkness. He turned to the man who had been directing the process, Technical Sergeant Kyle Mallory according to his nametag.
"Sergeant, was there any tampering with the remains?" Ratchet asked.
"I'm not sure what you mean." The man looked a little nervous, and Ratchet suspected he was probably new, given the way his eyes shifted about with the instinctual terror of any being confronted by one much larger than themselves. He gave a patient sigh and did his best to appear non-threatening. It would not do to scare the man without cause.
"I mean no disrespect to you or your subordinates. However, I ask because it appears there is something still functioning in this helm-unit." The man's eyes went wide with alarm.
"You're saying it's still alive?" He asked, looking over at the parts with a newfound fear. Ratchet resisted the urge to roll his optics.
"No. Simply that some part of Barrage's battle-tech appears to still be in working order." He shifted and turned away, waving back to the men, "Never mind. I will deal with it. Continue your work. Use the last three beds for the remains. I will get to them as soon as I can."
He strode back to where Ironhide sat, a mixed look of disgust and curiosity on his face as Ratchet placed the head down on a spare surface and began to disassemble it, carefully, so as not to disturb whatever was still producing light.
"What is it, Ratchet?" Ironhide asked, "Something the matter?" Ratchet shook his head slowly, squinting at the comparatively miniscule device he was slowly uncovering. It was unlikely...but he had to be sure. Eventually he finished and turned the open cranial cavity towards his friend.
"Tell me, does that look like what I think it does?" He asked. Ironhide squinted, his optics refocusing, before widening in amazement.
"No way. No fraggin' way." He swore.
"I thought so." Ratchet said, eyeing the tiny light. It was a fully functional Decepticon communication unit, something virtually unheard of to be recovered intact. The ages of war on Cybertron had prompted new developments in the field of what the humans termed 'information security'. The Autobots had won several major battles in the early days before Soundwave had instituted his new policy of installing modified subspace communication links, far more sophisticated than the Autobots' own, into all of Megatron's troops. This was to complement his ever-increasingly complex ciphers, which were already becoming nearly impossible for even the finest Autobot minds to crack. Every single one was equipped with a self-destruct mechanism that destroyed the device in case of the owner's termination. However, on rare occasions, the system failed, and the Autobots would be able to tap into the Decepticon information network for a short while. The devices tended to have only a limited usefulness though. They were designed to wear out quickly when removed from their owners, so even if the self-destruct failed, the elements and time would eventually render them useless. No one had ever been able to replicate the technology before it became worthless junk. Already, Ratchet could see the gold wiring connecting the machine to Barrage's central processor starting to corrode.
Ratchet braced himself. Now came the tricky part. Extending his most delicate manipulators, he carefully removed the device, micro-shears snipping the lines that linked it to its deceased master. Pulling it free, he laid the lightning bolt-shaped bit of transparent circuitry and wiring onto a small tray next to Ironhide's bed, causing the weapons specialist to shift away from it, though whether it was out of disgust or fear of damaging the fragile machine, Ratchet couldn't tell.
"There." He muttered, "Now we just need someone to connect this to." He quickly ran through a list of potential candidates. His first thought was Wheelie, the minute Decepticon defector they had acquired after Giza. He was out in Atlantis though, and the amount of time it would take to get him here would be too long. Ratchet reflected morosely that if Wheelie were human, it would've been no trouble. However, it hadn't taken long after the Alliance had formed for them to discover that Autobot physiology did not react well to being 'beamed up' as the humans called it. Even passage through the Stargate was physically taxing for them, without the proper modifications. Otherwise Ratchet would've radioed the Daedalus in its patrol orbit and requested that Colonel Mitchell transport the pesky little 'Con to his medbay. He cycled to the next option, which was Prowl, Optimus' lieutenant, as well as one of the best communications officers they had. He was also unavailable, being stationed at the Alpha Site offworld. Finally he settled on the sole remaining candidate. Ratchet didn't much like the option, but then it was better than nothing. He opened his internal comms and aimed them to the edge of the Alliance's section of Diego-Garcia, specifically the beach opposite the Stargate's hangar.
[Drift?] he asked, [I need your immediate assistance. Could you please come to the medbay? We have something that needs your...expertise.]
o
A/N: And that's it! Chapter 2 done! Bit longer than Chapter 1 I'm happy to say, but at least this time I'm keeping things moving at high-speed, unlike my previous iterations. I promise I will try to keep pumping out segments at least once a week on , where you can watch each chapter take shape! Read, review, comment, and remember: Kind words are not meat and drink, but they are motivation! I'm also doing my best to avoid character-soup. Prioritizing who are the main and who are the secondary players is very important this time around. Also, I would like to thank my beta-readers, who help me stay true to the source material and in-shape to write more!