Ch. 223

C.Y.L.A.S. hung his chassis forward as he walked, his faceplates resting in an annoyed glare as he stumbled after Bombshock and Darksteel, while Skylynx was at his back huffing hot air at his spider legs. The malformed mech was missing the hum of the rest of the hive in his helm, the power that came with it. He was cursing his own idiocy at not just taking the Insecticons and running. At least then he'd have more than nothing.

"Keep walking, C.Y.L.A.S.," Bombshock snarled from the front, the Insecticon buzzing for emphasis, "Megatron will not tolerate such lazy behavior upon his return."

The black mech scowled, "He just left! And what are we supposed to do with such minimal orders? 'Keep the Autobots occupied'? He may as well have dismissed us!"

Darksteel turned to face C.Y.L.A.S. and hissed, "Our masters orders are open! More fun to make use of that..."

Skylynx snickered in agreement and the malformed mech glared, "I liked you both better when you were nothing but oversized pets."

Bombshock glanced back to chatter quietly with his mandibles as way of a smirk, "But it is now you who is the pet. Isn't that right, C.Y.L.A.S.?"

The hum the black mech had so craved became a sudden boom that rattled his audials. He stumbled to the rocky ground and pressed his servos tightly against his helm in a desperate attempt to block out the pain. His inability to fight the sound caused him to shake and he grit his dentals down on a scream as he curled in tightly. As the booming hum dissipated, he could hear Darksteel and Skylynx cackling at his anguish, at his new role as the mech at the bottom of the pecking order.

"Remember who truly commands whom, C.Y.L.A.S.," Bombshock knelt over him to growl, "You are only another statistic in our master's grand plan. And, if you are lucky, he will soon forgive your treachery enough to put an end to your suffering..."

C.Y.L.A.S. glared up at the Insecticon in silent understanding. He knew Bombshock didn't mean a reprieve from the device implanted in his helm by Shockwave. He knew that his only freedom would come at the price of his death.

"Drink- no, don't put it down, drink it," Ratchet helped Starscream tip a small cube of energon back and sighed when the seeker only took a small sip, "You need it, you know..."

The red and white mech grumbled, "I really don't want it."

"I know... You don't have to talk about any of it-"

"Stop-"

"Frag it all, Starscream," the medic hissed before taking a deep intake, "... You need to at least admit to yourself what happened. You need to accept that it did and not try to bury it all."

Starscream weakly shifted his shoulder armor and hung his helm as he leaned over the med berth he was sitting on, "I don't want... We don't have time to-"

"This isn't about time, Starscream," Ratchet whined painfully, "this is about the trauma you suffered and dealing with it properly," the older mech leaned back against a wall opposite his patient and rubbed his optics with his servos, "A paint job and throwing yourself back into the fold doesn't fix things."

"It was working-"

"Was it?" Ratchet looked up tiredly, "Tell me it was working, look me in the optic and tell me it was working so I'll believe you."

Starscream couldn't abide the request. He kept his helm hung and his gaze to the floor.

The medic sighed, "That's what I thought..."

"... Did you tell Optimus...?"

Ratchet shook his helm, "About this? No. And before you ask, they're all up on the outer hull. Miko wanted to see Predaking transform into a- drags on... thing..."

Starscream managed a whimpering chuckle, "A dragon, doctor..."

"Well, yes, that..."

The medic sighed again, the open air not something he was comfortable with at the moment. He was struggling to hold onto his doctor-patient relationship right now and not the complicated fears that came with remembering that he knew nothing of what gave Starscream the ability to be so different from everyone else. Ratchet opened his mouth to say something, anything, and was surprised when the seeker beat him to it.

"Am... I allowed to distract myself from this?" he murmured, "Can that be a way of coping with it all instead of pretending?"

Ratchet blinked then nodded, "Well... yes, working on something else can help..." he walked over and sat beside the seeker when the winged mech gestured for him to sit, "Writing something, or perhaps drawing, working with your servos-"

"I want to start testing."

"What?" the medic looked surprised, "Testing- no, no, well... No, you can't be sure of that."

Starscream played with his claws lightly, "Isn't that what you want?"

"I- no, what I want is to- yes, but..." Ratchet frowned, "Starscream... I do want to find out how you're able to do what you do but I have... no test available to me that can even begin explaining any of it. There's no sensor or device invented yet that is capable of doing the work I'd need it to. All we have are basic energy readers that can barely process the readings you give off..."

The seeker hugged himself tightly and the medic delicately set an arm over his shoulders as he softened his voice, "You... are not the only one who requires a distraction from this; I need one, too. This ship..." he looked around the med bay, "it used to belong to Brainstorm, that much we can gather. But what he used it for is a mystery."

Starscream finally looked up at the mech beside him, "Brainstorm, hm? ... Is that what we would distract ourselves with?"

"Yes and no," Ratchet shrugged, patting the red and white mech's shoulder plating, "Brainstorm did something aboard this ship. In a scientific sense, it would seem. Ultra Magnus and I have been unable to deduce what, despite Soundwave having found a data cylinder with Brainstorm's name on it... From what we can guess, the Ark needs to be fully operational before the cylinder could be accessed on the command deck's main hub. There are a couple of rooms on this ship that are oddly outfitted and we've come across a couple more that are sealed shut... Without having access to these rooms, we don't know what lack of connections we're dealing with that are preventing us from using the data cylinder," he grumbled, "As much as I would prefer to keep some distance between myself and Predaking right now, he may have the brute strength we need to pry these locked doors open. If our calculations are correct, they may even be large enough to house Predaking more comfortably as well..."

Starscream smiled weakly, "Well, well, doctor, I can't have you trying harder than me, can I?"

The medic chuckled in surprise, "Taking this as a personal challenge?"

"I'll have to," the seeker admitted, "I simply can't have you doing all the personal growth while I cry in dark corners."

Ratchet rubbed his servo against Starscream's upper arm warmly, "Bah, don't talk about it like that... You had every right to feel what you felt and do what you needed to get through it... We're working to make things better, not make it a competition."

The red and white mech nodded, "All right, so non-competitively... I'll take inspiration from you then."

"I can accept that... And Optimus? Would you like him to be a part of this? Do you need to talk to him, or...?"

Starscream kept himself from stiffening up and forced a smile on his faceplates, "For now, I'd like to keep this between myself and my physician..."

Ratchet nodded, "Alright... but please talk to him soon. He's just as concerned as I am."

The seeker nodded again but felt a sick heaviness in the bottom of his tank. It was a sad surprise to him that now, in this moment, the last bot he wanted to see and talk to was the one who seemed to make everything right again.