Chapter 8

Calm

John stared into the embers of the dying campfire. Dinner had been long and full of facts. John generally dealt better with facts on a full stomach, but some of the things he'd learned were still making his gut churn. On the log opposite him, Optimus' holoform sat patiently. It was odd, but the projection seemed to remain illuminated exactly as though it were still daylight, even though the sun was quickly sinking, its light shooting bright red and pink shafts between the tall trees. John put it down to the technology involved. Another poke at the fire shot sparks up into the air.

"You seem...pensive." the Autobot commented, "I would imagine you would be pleased to know the people of this galaxy have managed so well in your absence."

"I am. But we could've avoided them hating us if we'd come back sooner. Hell, we could've even helped." John answered. He knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

"You haven't seen Rodney, have you?" he asked, "After that dinner I was expecting him to demand we go to Lemnos." Optimus chuckled.

"Doctor McKay appears to have slipped into what you humans call a 'food coma'. He ate twice as much as Specialist Dex, which is fascinating considering his smaller size." John laughed.

"Yeah, that's Rodney." he snickered, "He's always had a big appetite." A long, awkward pause followed, before Optimus spoke again.

"Colonel, I hesitate to ask, but what can you tell me of Aiden Ford?"

John froze, then slowly put down the stick he'd been using as a poker.

"Why?" he asked. He didn't want to think about this, much less talk about it. He'd been able to forget about it for two blissful days while planning and preparing for this mission.

"Ah, I see I have upset you." Optimus said flatly. John checked himself and his tone. Optimus had nothing to do with his personal failures. There was no call to get snippy with him about asking a simple question.

"No it's alright." he answered, picking up the poker and prodding the fire again, "I'm just wondering why you're interested." Optimus seemed to hesitate, waiting for a signal that it was safe to continue, then finally answered.

"Mrs. Emmagan mentioned him after Mr. Woolsey informed us of the AOA's plans in the wake of the Langara mission. She said his family was hosting a funeral, given that he'd been missing in action for so long." John felt his face flush, but quickly tried to stamp down on his anger. Optimus, being an Autobot and therefore impossible to fool with normal human conversational techniques, raised an illusory eyebrow. "In her defense, I do not think she considered my superior auditory receptors when she spoke." he said. John nodded.

"Ford...Ford isn't dead. I know it sounds like denial, and maybe it is. Maybe I've held off on marking him as KIA because I don't want to acknowledge my mistakes."

"You have spoken of him in the past." Optimus said, "I did not inquire, since it seemed to be a personal matter. However now that we are here, I feel it might help us...relate...as officers." John gave a grim smile, the flames illuminating his face eerily.

"Hah, you're kidding right?" he said, unable to keep sarcasm in, "Relate? I respect you Optimus, I really do. But how can we possibly relate on this?" John shook his head in disgust. "I mean, you've probably lost more friends than I've ever had. You've had to make decisions on a scale I can't even comprehend. You sacrificed your world to stop Megatron from taking over the universe...how can we relate?" Optimus looked taken aback at the statement. John was a little confused at that. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected.

On a certain level, while John sympathized with Optimus and the Autobots as fellow soldiers, and even as people, there was just such a vast difference of scale between them, not in size, but in depth and time. Optimus had freely admitted he was several thousand years old. He'd been a young archaeologist digging for treasure on what amounted to a university grant before Ra had ordered the building of the pyramids on Earth to cover the Fallen's sun-killer device. How could someone that old relate to a human. It would be like trying to have a heart-to-heart conversation with a mayfly.

"I suppose that you are right." Optimus finally said, "I cannot relate to you. I cannot know the trials and burdens you have faced. But consider this, Colonel. For my people life is long, and the events that transpire around us are like the crackling of embers. We burn slow, while you outshine us. In your brief lives, I have seen your people hold more heartbreak, love, tragedy and laughter than even I can imagine, made all the more precious because for you, time is fleeting." The Autobot gave a sad smile.

"Tell me, is it wrong for the elderly to try and understand youth?" he said. John sat, stunned by the Autobot's words. His head, still resounding with the after-echoes of the conversation held at dinner, was silent as he tried to process the Prime's argument. Finding he could not refute it, he sagged back onto his log seat.

"You know, in a way, coming back here is almost like a memorial to him. Ford, that is. We came to find an answer to one problem, but we've landed in a fresh batch that spawned while we were gone. Cleaning this up would be like honoring his memory. Finishing the fight." John said, "I just hope we get the chance. Maybe with this new info, the AOA will see the logic in putting more effort into fixing Pegasus again." He looked up from the fire and saw Optimus wearing a sympathetic smile. He laughed. "I know, it's a bit of a longshot. But hope springs eternal, y'know?" Optimus laughed as well.

"I do indeed." he chuckled. John stood up, looking at the sinking sun and handed the grip of the poker to the Prime.

"I'd better go talk to Halling about spending the night. Would be kind of rude to just drop in for dinner and a chat. I get the feeling there's more to know than one meal can hold."

"On that note, if you are thinking of speaking with Mrs. Emmagan, I would advise against it." Optimus commented, taking hold of the poker and using it to prod some life into the dwindling embers. When he saw John's surprised eyebrows, he smiled warmly.

"Teyla may feel she had been betrayed by her people for their actions in her absence, but I feel that Halling might be better suited to convince her otherwise than any one of us." he explained, staring back into the flames, "Her anger is irrational, and there are few humans I have met who are better at handling such emotions than Teyla Emmagan. In the end, she will realize that her people acted as best they could with the utmost respect for her in her absence. That they have not replaced her is a sign of how much she means to them. All she needs is time to realize that."

"You're saying she needs to handle this on her own?" John said, slightly affronted at being given unsolicited advice on how to deal with his team, before realizing it wasn't unsolicited, just friendly. He almost laughed when he realized he'd nearly fallen into the same trap as Teyla.

"More or less." John smirked.

"Well, like I said, got things to do." he said, "I'll check in with her at least." There was a twinkle in the Autobot leader's eye as he glanced at John, which seemed to say that he knew John's thoughts and forgave him. After all, humans burned bright and hot.

-O-

The day was going rather poorly for Radek. On the one hand, he was here, back in Pegasus, which for him was a plus. Truthfully, he was supposed to be back in Prague right now on vacation, though by his definition, spending a week helping his brother sort through a new shipment of books for his shop did not count as time off. On the other though, he'd been sitting in this damn makeshift lab with no luck for six hours, not including time off for coffee. Outside, the yellow and red form of Ratchet sat idle, though in fact he was anything but. Across from Zelenka, the Autobot's grizzled, white-haired holoform gazed patiently at the trio of laptops arrayed before him, contrasting Radek's measly one, singular computer screen. Cables ran down from the machines to a bank of servers the mission's signal-tracking team had commandeered for their efforts to locate the source of the mysterious Decepticon transmission.

"Perhaps if we-" the Czech began trying to break the wall of silence that had descended in the past hour. Ratchet's holoform merely held up a hand to indicate he was not interested. It was irksome to Zelenka, almost as much as when McKay did it, except the Canadian did it because he was a rogantní namyšlený mizera who thought he was Hawking's rightful heir. Ratchet just did it because he was concentrating. Radek sighed and rose from his seat.

"If you require a break, Dr. Zelenka, by all means, do not let me stop you." the holoform said, not looking up from the screen. Radek frowned at him.

"You don't actually need us for this, do you?" he said.

"On the contrary, your initial help was much appreciated." Ratchet replied, still not looking up from the screens. This surprised Zelenka, but also made him suspicious. You'd think if he meant it he'd say it while looking him in the eye. Still, he could detect no sarcasm in the Autobot's tone. Perhaps all his time working with Rodney was making him paranoid, given how the only time Rodney seemed capable of complimenting his fellow scientists was under threat of imminent death.

"Really?" he finally asked. The Autobot actually looked up at this with a casual smile, something he did not often wear.

"I am not a physicist by any measure, Dr. Zelenka. While I dabbled in such things during my early years at the Great Academy, I was, as you might say, never one for the numbers. Medicine was my area of interest. Without you, I doubt I would've gotten this far."

"You think you can keep going while I go get lunch?" Radek asked, feeling a little better. It was refreshing to get respect for his work that wasn't grudging.

"Very likely; yes." the medic said.

"Děkuji. I'll be back in bit." Radek said. As he turned to the door however, a loud *KAWOOSH* echoed off the buildings outside, instinctually filling him with a jolt of adrenaline. He quickly relaxed when no alarm followed.

"That should be Major Lorne." he said, "I may as well go and let him know our progress in person." Ratchet nodded.

"I will remain here and continue." he said. Zelenka quickly nodded back and grabbed a coat from a rack by the door. The sun was still high in the sky, but it was autumn weather outside, and Radek got enough cold wind in his homeland as it was. He shucked the garment on and made his exit. After that, a brisk walk brought him to the corner of the base where the Stargate resided. No one seemed to be out and about for the most part. Everyone was busy indoors. He passed two of the Jeeps that had brought the task force through on his way to the gate, both loaded with supplies they were ferrying about, but that was all. It was interesting, considering all the fuss the mysterious signal had generated, to see how little was actually going on at the Alpha Site regarding its investigation. The majority of the work was concentrated under the pentagonal roof of the communications hub that Radek had just left. It was no radio observatory, but then it didn't need to be. Subspace was the preferred method of faster-than-light communication, even for the Decepticons it seemed.

Radek shook himself and rubbed his hands together as he turned the last corner and began proceeding down the main 'boulevard' ran from the Stargate to the command center. As he drew closer to the still-active gate, what he saw standing in front of it made him smile and made up for all the hours of boredom he'd just endured.

"Major!" The call got Lorne's attention, causing him to look away from his team as he'd been speaking to them. He glanced back to them and made a few more cursory comments Zelenka couldn't hear, then dismissed them. As they passed, Radek took a moment to revel in the grumpy looks on their faces.

"Doctor Zelenka." Lorne said as the Czech drew level with him, "I'm going to assume that smile on your face is because you're happy to see me, and not because of what we're covered in." Zelenka repressed a chuckle, trying to eliminate all traces of amusement from his expression and not succeeding very well. He and Lorne faced each other for about twenty seconds before the man rolled his eyes and reached down to pick up the wooden box sitting on the ground next to him.

"This is revenge for that time we took you to M7G-677 and the kids gave you a makeover, isn't it."

"Perhaps just a little." Radek admitted, "I thought I'd come inform you of our progress. I was about to grab something from the mess hall when you arrived."

"I thought they'd be closed right now." the Major said, starting to walk towards the barracks and beckoning Zelenka to follow.

"They're serving a late lunch." Radek explained, moving to keep pace.

"Well, anyway, how goes it?" the Major asked. The sun made the parts of his face still partially caked with whatever had been thrown at him look shiny and greasy. When he caught Radek looking he rolled his eyes again and pursed his lips.

"Some of the locals took offense to our presence. So they served us some pastries." he explained. Radek found himself caught between sadness at the fact that Atlantis' reputation had indeed sunk into the ground as many had feared, and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. He pushed the laughter back down again and focused on his objective.

"Right, well, anyway…" he said, doing his best to avoid looking at the sticky stains covering his technical superior, "Between the team we brought and Ratchet, we've managed to set up the equipment we brought and start scanning. It's not easy, given the Alpha Site's arrays aren't as sensitive as Atlantis' were, but we're making progress. And with a second point of reference, between here and Earth, we should be able to track down the signal's point of origin in...well, six months, if we're lucky." He rubbed his own head, unable to avoid staring at the confectionery matted into Lorne's hair. A sensation of sympathetic stickiness was creeping into his own scalp.

"That soon?" Lorne replied sarcastically, "Great. Well I'll let Colonel Sheppard know once I've had a chance to wash. Also, I need you to help with a couple things."

"Yes?" Radek asked, looking curiously at the box the Major was holding to distract himself from his hair.

"First, I need you to lend me a techie who can set up a room for recording so I can make a preliminary report to the AOA. Sheppard will probably ask me to anyway, and the next scheduled dial-out for status exchange is tonight at oh-eight-hundred hours."

"I'll send someone over. What else?" Radek asked. Lorne stopped, turned and hefted the box he was carrying. Zelenka quickly spotted his intention and held up his hands to receive it, trying to get avoid getting smeared with jam in the process. As Lorne released it, Radek grabbed the top, which appeared to be loose, and pulled it up. Inside were a set of Genii radios, though they seemed slightly different from the ones he'd seen during his previous time in Pegasus.

"What are these?" he asked.

"That's what I'm hoping you can tell me." Lorne said, dusting his hands off, "They fell off the back of a cart that was about to go through the gate before we arrived. According to what I've learned, the Genii are pumping out tons of fresh equipment, or at least distributing their old stockpiles. I want you to check the database and compare these to the ones we've seen in the past; check if they've made any improvements, you know?" Radek's eyebrows rose at Lorne's words, but he refrained from inquiring further. No doubt they'd all be briefed eventually on what the Major had learned. He did feel compelled to ask one question though.

"Was the mission a success? Did they know anything?" Lorne shook his head.

"If they did, they weren't interested in sharing. They told us about the way things are, then gave us the boot. They kept the files we brought, but I don't even know if that damned ambassador plans to inform his leaders." Radek's face fell.

"What a shame." he said. Lorne snorted.

"Their loss."

"You don't actually mean that." Radek said. Lorne sighed.

"No, not really. Look, I'm going to get a shower. You go ahead and take those radios and give them a look-see after lunch. I'll expect that assistant as soon as you can spare them." he said, then picked up the pace, leaving Radek alone in the middle of the road. Looking down at the contents of the box, the Czech physicist felt a bit of remorse drip through his soul. While he understood on a logical level that the suffering that had befallen Pegasus was not entirely Atlantis' fault, they had all played a big part in helping foment it, however indirectly. He hadn't gone offworld as often as Rodney or Sheppard or Lorne, but he had never been under any illusions that the galaxy around him was in pain, and it was because they had come seeking the legacy of the Ancients. It was a heavy responsibility, and in those first years under Dr. Weir, it had weighed heavily on them all. Radek had managed to push it aside for a while when Atlantis had returned to Earth, and his work had turned to finding the means of stopping Megatron and the Hybrids and whatever other terrors the Milky Way held for his homeworld, but being here again was bringing it all back. He turned and began to walk back to the communications center. He might as well drop these things off first. Perhaps food would help ease his thoughts.

-O-

In the dark void of space, the hunter sat on the bronze-colored command-throne of his ship. After almost two cycles of inactivity, he was beginning to wonder if his plan had been as foolproof as he had hoped. He ran back over its details in his mind. Yes, it was a long-shot on the surface, but with his resources, there was no reason it shouldn't be working. Then again, given its scope, he'd always known patience would be key. He leaned back and watched the stars. Normally his cold indifference served him well, but here it was being strained. The last time he'd undertaken a contract that had lasted this long, it hadn't ended well.

The hunter laced his fingers before him, brooding as he stared through the segmented observation port in front of him. A sudden hiss and groan of metal told him someone had entered the bridge. The heavy, methodical tread that followed bespoke an underlying lack of imagination, an owner who approached problems with single-minded efficiency. A servitor-drone then, bringing his regular nourishment. Normally he worked alone. If he had to operate as part of a team, he did his best to pick a role that allowed him to remain as independent as possible. It was safer that way; less chance of becoming entangled in the competing ambitions that thrived in his field of expertise. He prided himself on his reputation and skill, honed over many years and many, many pursuits.

Now though, sitting in the midst of his greatest undertaking in nearly a hundred cycles, here he was, commander of his own ship and crew. Any other person in his line of work would've been overjoyed, but he knew better. His ability to distance himself and look at things as they really were was what had landed him this job in the first place. It gave him the foresight to see that in truth; that the ship was little more than a refurbished relic and the help it came with was made of mindless automatons, and that ultimately, both were as much a leash as a toolkit to aid him. His employer might pay well, but he did not believe in trust. That was alright though, because the hunter didn't believe in trust either.

As the drone approached and set down the plate with its decanter of blue fluid on a nearby table, he rose, striding across the chamber while the machine made its exit at the same plodding pace it had entered with. He grabbed the bottle by its decorative throat and strode back to the chair. He leaned on it and took a long swig of the glowing cyan substance within. Energy flowed through him as he was revitalized, and he circled back around to the rear of the throne, tapping a few segments of its structure. With a hiss and some electronic noises, it rose, split, and reshaped itself, its many parts reconfiguring into a wedge-shaped control console that then brought up a large holographic display, refracted by the main viewport. He checked the board for signs of life, for anything that might suggest his plan was bearing fruit. It was a daily ritual, and served as his sole amusement apart from spending time checking the ship, modifying its hidden sections and secret compartments to better suit his needs.

When small red dot on the galactic map and its accompanying shrill alarm appeared, he retained his hold on the decanter, which he gently set down on another nearby pedestal. He did not get surprised. He surprised others, often before killing them. He tapped on a few of the hovering holographic controls in front of him, magnifying the red dot so the star cluster it was part of filled the room. The transmitter could not provide specific details as to the solar system it occupied, but it could provide precise coordinates by broadcasting its position. A cruel smile spread across the hunter's face. The signal indicated the presence of three confirmed Energon signatures in its vicinity. He briefly wondered why there were not more, but put it aside. He had a target at last. He would work out the details when he began to stalk his prey in earnest.

Manipulated the controls more precisely now, he activated the vessel's engines, then began charging the space-bridge drive. His excitement was tempered by a sense of minor disappointment. If his suspicions were correct, this would be anything but a fair fight. His smile slipped and became a smug smirk. He hadn't gotten this far in life by picking a fair fight. By the time his prey saw his face, their life was already over.

As he input the coordinates, the hunter spoke, simultaneously conveying his vocal passcode.

"The stars shine, the wind blows...and the strong prey on the weak." he said. A confirmation light flashed green, and deep in the deck beneath him, powerful and ancient machines whirred and rumbled to life.

"To the hunt." he said, raising the decanter as he finished, his restless Spark eager for prey.

-O-

Ronon hadn't expected to get much sleep after what he had heard at dinner. The idea that the Wraith were going back to sleep didn't sit well with him for some reason. As a Runner, he'd dedicated his life to surviving them, then as a member of Atlantis, to hunting them. If they were going back to sleep, what did that mean for him and those like him? That concern didn't just include other Runners, but people whose worlds had been destroyed, left homeless because they had tried to fight back.

A hundred thoughts warred for his attention as he sat on the cot that had been provided for him. Outside the tent, he could hear Sheppard talking with Lorne over the radio. He could only hear one side of the conversation, but it seemed a lot of what the Athosians had told them was either being confirmed or elaborated on by the Major. Teyla was nowhere to be found, though he suspected she was having a conversation with Halling. Once or twice he was certain he'd heard her voice raised in heated argument from a tent two flaps down. He didn't blame her. She had a lot of issues to come to terms with in regards to her people right now.

That thought made him turn to his own people. When Sateda had fallen, roughly three-hundred civilians and soldiers had survived, not including himself, fleeing through the Stargate to an allied world. He hadn't been all that involved in their goings on, even after finding out about their existence. His life as a Runner had made it hard to come back to civilization as it was. Still, with Teyla's relationship to her people now at the forefront of his thoughts, he couldn't help pondering what this new system the Confederation had established could mean for his people. Would they be absorbed, becoming just a province on one of many increasingly industrialised worlds; their culture and history fated to fade away in the face of the new melting pot? He'd heard Dr. Daniel Jackson talk about it back on Earth; how small populations eventually merged into large ones, retaining some parts of their identity, but sacrificing most to a greater whole. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

And what about Sateda itself? Was it still being watched? Would it be safe to go back someday? Again, his feelings tore at him. The idea that he might see his homeworld rebuilt was empowering, but at the same time saddening. It could never be the world it had once been, of course; not for him. There was too much pain in its silent streets; too much loss in its broken buildings and empty cities.

At that moment the tent's flap pulled aside and Teyla entered. Her face was a reddish hue in the light of the kerosene lamp hanging at the apex of the four-sided ceiling, though Ronon suspected that in a better light, she would've retained the color anyway. She strode over and sat down on the cot next to his. After a long pause, Ronon decided to break the ice.

"So...everything alright?"

"It will be…" she replied, taking off her boots.

"You're still in charge?" Ronon asked. Teyla sighed.

"Yes. It's just...I don't know what I was expecting. It took a while for me to accept they made the choice they did, but I have." she said. When she failed to go on, Ronon pressed on.

"But…?" he asked. His friend did not return his gaze, but her face went through a cascade of expressions. Usually she was good at controlling what feelings she showed, given her experience as a diplomat. Here though, that training seemed irrelevant.

"I did speak with them, even if it wasn't very often. Not once did they hint at...well, this." she said, gesturing wildly as if to encompass everything they'd learned since returning to Pegasus, "I don't know who to blame more; myself for not being involved enough, or the AOA for so thoroughly abandoning things here."

"You can't blame yourself."

"Yes I can." Teyla snapped, "A leader whose heart is not with her people is no leader at all. I abandoned them. That they even still think of me as a figure to admire is more than I deserve."

"Kanaan and Torren are your people. You fought in the Milky Way to protect them." Ronon pointed out.

"A leader's duty is to all her people." Teyla countered.

"So what, you're thinking of moving back to Pegasus?" Ronon asked.

"I don't know. I might. Given all that has happened, all we have learned...I cannot help but feel I have been shirking my responsibilities." There was a long pause as Ronon watched his friend remove her gear, placing her flak jacket under her cot.

"Y'know, I don't know what it's like to be a leader. On Sateda, I led a squad, but we were more like brothers and sisters than a fighting unit. After that well...I learned how to take care of myself, and only myself. Even here, after all the years of fighting with you guys, I've never thought of myself as a person you wanted to put in charge of anything…" Ronon said, doing his best to frame his thoughts despite his inexperience in the subject. Teyla stared as he spoke, and he found himself lacing his fingers together, not feeling comfortable under the scrutiny, even when it was so light. "You and Sheppard...well, you in particular, you've always been better at knowing what's best; at keeping things together. I don't think you should blame yourself for all this. You couldn't have known. Between the AOA keeping us busy in the Milky Way and pulling out of Pegasus' affairs, there's no way you could've known. And if you're angry that your people didn't tell you about everything, maybe it's because they knew you had to be focused on what you were doing where you were." Ronon shrugged, "Like I said, I'm not a leader. I don't know the right or wrong way to look at this. All I can tell you is what I think." After another long silence, in which he let his gaze sink to his knees, Ronon waited for some kind of rebuke or dismissal. When none came, he looked back up and saw Teyla was smiling.

"You are a good friend, Ronon. I know we all often let it go without saying, but I feel you deserve to hear it." Ronon grinned sheepishly.

"So are you still going to stay?" he asked. Teyla frowned, though not at him.

"I do not know. Perhaps." she said, looking at her own knees, "Now that I know what is going on, I feel my people will need me. Depending on what happens, I may at least ask for leave to remain here for a while."

"If you need to, do it. I know that Sheppard would say the same. You've always been fighting two wars; one for us and one for your people. Everyone needs a break." Ronon said, "We'll be here when you get back." Teyla smiled and hugged him, surprising the big Satedan. He patted her gently on the back, still unused to this kind of physical intimacy even after all this time. He was almost glad when Sheppard threw open the flap and Teyla pulled away, turning to face him. John looked back and forth between them then appeared to decide he didn't want to know.

"Things seem to be under control at the Alpha Site. Tomorrow we'll head back and see if we can't get more information from somewhere else. The Odyssey should arrive the day after tomorrow probably, so we'll just keep doing what we're doing until they get here." he said, looking at his watch. It was a pointless act given how the time of day varied wildly between worlds even if the number of hours generally didn't. Right now it was probably still set for time according to the Alpha Site, or perhaps even Earth, assuming he hadn't adjusted it.

"So we sleep on it?" Ronon asked.

"Yep." Sheppard replied, striding over to the empty cot across from Rodney, taking off his own flak jacket as he did. Once he'd organized and put away his gear just as Teyla had, he sighed heavily and sank back onto the cot.

"What about Optimus?" Ronon asked after a moment.

"He's going into recharge. I warned him to watch out or the kids might turn him into a jungle gym. He just laughed." Ronon grinned nervously, partly amused and partly terrified at the thought of how the Autobot leader might react to being approached by a bunch of children out past their bedtime. He didn't doubt that Optimus would never hurt them...but any kids that tried to scratch something into his sides would be in for an unpleasant surprise.

-O-

Ratchet looked up from his work at the sound of the door opening to admit Doctor Zelenka. Puzzled, he looked the Czech scientist up and down with his holographic eyes.

"Doctor, I believe you said you were taking a break for repast. However my sensors detect no evidence of this." he said, leaving the statement hanging as an implied question. The physicist gave him a reproachful stare, which Ratchet ignored. He knew humans did not like it when he confronted them with information concerning their health habits which he had acquired by use of his extremely sensitive scanning equipment. He'd never quite figured out why, though his two standing theories were that it was a reminder of their fragile mortality which they seemed obsessed with ignoring, or it was from envy of his superior capabilities. Either way, it didn't much matter, because the look soon passed as Radek hefted a large wooden crate onto a nearby metal table.

"Major Lorne brought this back from Manaria." he stated, opening the top and beginning to unpack small, grey metal devices which looked oddly familiar. A quick shuffle through his internalized memory banks allowed Ratchet to identify them as portable shortwave radios, of Genii manufacture, no less. He sniffed, or at least his holoform made the illusion of having made the gesture.

"What's the point of bringing them back here?" he asked. Radek glanced over and shrugged.

"The Major wanted me to compare them to records of previous models, see if there'd been any change in the design. You don't need to bother yourself with it. I'll take care of it when I get back." Ratchet nodded cursorily, and turned back to his work, ready to put the whole thing out of his mind when he noticed the odd smell. It wasn't something a human nose could have detected by any stretch of the imagination, but Ratchet's sensors would've put the best bloodhound's olfactory capabilities to shame. It was an odd, sharp scent that seemed oddly familiar, with a metallic note to it, though not any metal known by human science. He looked back out the window at his real body, wondering if his detection system was picking up his own cyber-biology and needed recalibrating, but quickly dismissed that with evidence provided by a diagnostic. Drift was out patrolling the perimeter until such time as he might be needed, while Ironhide was amusing himself with human antics using his holoform in the base's mess hall, both well out of range. Besides, the smell wasn't of a true Cybertronian. No, it had something more...feral to it. His gaze drifted over to the radios, which Zelenka had lined up neatly on the table next to their box. The physicist noticed his interest and looked at him in confusion.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. Ratchet did not answer, but slowly began to approach the radios, causing Radek to back away cautiously. The Autobot's holoform paused about a foot from the table. The scent was strongest here...but how could it be here at all? His memory was flashing images to him of his life before the war, of a silvery, swollen metallic growth he'd been found in a disused corner of one of the buildings at the Great Academy, of the whirr of thousands of tiny ornithopter-wings and the stench of hydrocarbons. Ratchet scrutinized the rows of devices, wishing he could use his actual body instead of this fake one. And then, one of the small boxes shifted ever so slightly.

Ratchet's arm lashed out, but the device, now moving on its own, seemed to jump backwards, the false shell splitting apart as it tumbled out of reach while long, thin insectile legs sprouted from its sides. In seconds, the boxy Genii device had changed shape, no longer a mere radio. "Co te sakra!?" Ratchet heard Radek shout as the unveiled Insecticon shrieked viciously and tried to scamper away, tiny transparent wire and crystalline wings whirring as it made to take flight. Ratchet swore in Cybertronian and lunged across the table, trying to grab it, but the thing was already airborne, tiny evil compound eyes glittering as it extended a buzzing drill-like stinger and hurled itself at the human. In the background, Ratchet could hear other scientists dropping their work, some screaming in shock. He didn't care. He reoriented his holoform and tried to grab the thing again as Zelenka fell backwards, the Insecticon getting tangled in his glasses as it tried to land on his face. The Czech swore and swatted at the creature, which drew back for another strike just as a calculated grab by Ratchet caught it. The medic then brought it around and slammed it down on the table it had lifted off from with all the strength his holoform could muster. Behind him, a still-cursing Radek struggled to retrieve and don his glasses.

"Sladké matka zdravého rozumu!" he gasped, stumbling to his feet, "What was that!?"

"Insecticon." Ratchet said, keeping his hand down, before raising the creature up and banging it down a few more times until it's thin wire legs stopped twitching. Then he let go. Sticky internal fluids and coagulated lubricants clinging to his false fingers gave the illusion of having smashed an organic bug rather than a Cybertronian one.

"B-but how-" Radek started looking back and forth between Ratchet and the crushed bug.

"The smell. No matter how well the disguise, even if you can't pick up the rad signature all Cybertronian life-forms have a distinct odor. It's the living metal, mixed with trace Energon. You wouldn't have noticed it, but I did." he explained.
"What was it doing disguised as a radio though?!" Zelenka almost shouted. Ratchet could see the signs of shock taking form, but held back from stepping in when another three scientists rushed forward to do it for him. As they fussed around the physicist, one, a female, came over to look at the smashed Insecticon."

"What is that?" she asked curiously. Ratchet grumbled. Optimus may have relaxed his hold on sharing technology and knowledge, but the information available to most humans regarding Cybertronian mechano-biology was limited at best. Some time he really needed to talk with his friend about organizing seminars or something.

"A better question," he replied, "is what is it doing here?" Carefully he peeled a shattered wing from his holographic thumb. He needed to examine this thing with his own tools, not this half-blind hand-puppet made of photons. He was just about to ask the scientist for a bag or some other kind of container when a sizzle in the mess of components that had been the Insecticon drew his attention. He looked down and saw, fastened to its tiny, fizzled-out proto-Spark, something he was not expecting. A cold dread began to build in him as he did his best to retrieve the broken component. Holding it up to the light and swept it with his sensors, he felt the heartbeat of his observer quicken.

"What? What is it?" she asked fervently, her expression growing increasingly worried.

"It's a subspace tracking device." he said, feeling like a frozen hand had gripped his Spark, "And it's still active."

-O-

In high orbit over the Alpha Site, space rippled and swirled, then erupted as a short-lived wormhole formed, spitting out a bronze and ebony behemoth in a flash of Cherenkov radiation. Deep in the bowels of the newly arrived ship, the hunter allowed himself a cold smile.

The trap was sprung. Now it was time to collect his prize.

o

A/N: So in the process of writing the next chapter I discovered I'd made a small continuity error in terms of how things go down and how long they should take. I don't think it'll be a huge issue, but if any of you spot it, please let me know if you think of a better way to fix it. Also, I know now that the Pegasus alliance was never officially given the title of Confederation, given it started as a coalition, but I don't think that's too much of an issue in terms of lore-farts. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next time, we get to some good, meaty action!