"Are you ready, Nova?" Optimus asked, looking down at the half-spark as she wore a groove in the floor.
"What if they ask me about my education?" Nova asked suddenly, firing off questions while she paced. "What if I don't remember the exact details about my abduction? It was a while ago. What if they ask about my birth certificate, or social security number, or immunization records? I don't have any of those things, and if I do, I don't know how to find any of them. What if they give me a test, and I don't know about the country's laws or regulations or anything? What if—"
"What if you stopped worrying about it?" Ratchet called gruffly from the monitor. "It's wearing on my audials."
"Ratchet has a point," Optimus said to the half-spark. "It would be best not to worry."
"Easier said than done," she replied. "There's so much that could go wrong. What if I wore my armor anyway? Just a little bit? Do you think they would be mad?"
Optimus knelt down to her, and stopped her mid-pace with his hand. "We may speak more of this on the way. But I will let no harm come to you. I give you my word."
She drew in a shaky breath, meeting his eyes. "Okay."
Then, slowly, her tightly-clenched armor began to loosen and shift away, and she crawled into his hand without another word. Optimus transformed, and, with a tug at her seatbelt for reassurance, he rolled through the Groundbridge with no further hesitation.
Ratchet breathed a sigh after they had gone.
"I thought they would never leave," he murmured, shutting the bridge behind them.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Nova looked out the window for a while as Optimus drove the remaining distance to the government facility, a place which, at that present moment, Nova dreaded more than anything.
Almost without thinking, the half-spark formed her helmet.
"Nova."
"Sorry," she said, reluctantly pulling it back into her spinal array. "I can't help it. I feel so exposed like this."
"Agent Fowler has promised me you will be in the safest of hands."
The half-spark let out a sigh as she saw the building come into view. "I know. They just ... won't be yours."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
About two hours later, Nova had passed through the security checks, with Fowler just behind her, and the agent had escorted her to a small room with a single hooded bulb shining in her face.
"Wait here," he had said, and departed for his own meeting with a last tug at his tie.
Now, Nova sat in a chair in front of the desk, twisting her fingers. Fowler had left ten minutes ago, and since then she had been sitting in this room, waiting to complete her psychological evaluation, whatever that meant.
Nova rolled that phrase around in her head for a while. She'd never had a psychological evaluation before.
Suddenly, a shadow entered the doorway. The person's face was inscrutable behind the blinding light in her eyes, but Nova could make out a white lab coat rustling around a tall, slim frame.
This is it. You can do it, Nova. She let out a slow breath.
"Hello. My name is Henry," the man said in a pleasant voice. "I am here to conduct your psychological evaluation. I'm sure you won't object if I ask a few questions?"
Nova folded her arms, trying to see beyond the bulb. "No."
"I'm sure all this must be very hard for you," he said kindly, taking a sheaf of papers out of his briefcase. "You haven't had this much human interaction for a while, I understand."
"No."
"That's alright," he smiled, taking a seat and pulling out a pen. "I'm not one for human interaction myself."
Nova squinted, trying to catch a good glimpse of him. His voice sounded so familiar.
"Then why are you a doctor?" she asked aloud.
"Ah, dear child," he said, laughing. "Very shrewd."
He paused for a moment. "I suppose there are other reasons to enjoy my work."
Nova frowned slightly. She felt that she knew this man from somewhere. Why did he seem so familiar?
"But enough about me," the doctor said, with a sharp click of his pen. "Let's move on to our real task, shall we?"
Nova settled back in her chair, and looked down at the ground, her arms tightly folded as she tried not to shake. This room unnerved her. She wished Optimus were here. She hated being alone.
"First question," he said briskly. "Oh, this is a pleasant one. Where were you born?"
Nova frowned a little.
"I don't know," she muttered.
"Oh, if you don't remember, I can give you a moment to think. Do you suppose it was somewhere in the States? Canada, perhaps?"
Nova thought for a minute.
"Maybe you remember a town?"
"I don't want to tell you," she intoned, glaring at the ground.
"Oh, I understand," he said. "But I must inform you that this will be a lot easier if you cooperate—"
"I said, I don't want to tell you!" Nova growled.
The doctor paused.
"We'll just come back to those basic questions," he said cheerfully. "On to the next one. How many siblings do you have?"
Nova's breath stalled. Her jaw clenched.
"Any sisters?" Henry prompted, seemingly unaware of her discomfort. "A brother, maybe?"
"One," Nova whispered.
He paused again, as though poised to snatch her answers. "Pardon?"
"One brother."
"Oh, excellent!" Nova heard him scribble furiously in his notebook. "We are making progress. What is his name?"
"Coby."
"And how old is Coby?"
"He…" Nova gritted her teeth, trying to control herself. "He was sixteen."
"Was? Dear me, did something happen to him?"
Nova's eyes darted towards the desk suspiciously. "That question isn't on the test."
"It might not be," he agreed, tapping the pen. "But part of a psychological evaluation is knowing the psyche itself. In order to accurately assess your mental health, I should dearly like to know what happened to … Coby, was it?"
Nova's hands clenched tightly in her elbows.
"He died. In a fight."
"Ah. Part of a gang, was he?"
Nova let out a grim chuckle, but her balled-up fists trembled. "You might say that."
"And you?" the doctor asked from behind the light. "Were you also a part of this gang? Did you witness his death?"
Nova closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory. "Yes, I did."
"I imagine that was … difficult for you."
She shuddered. The stark image of Coby's cold, white face — his glassy, vacant eyes, staring at her — leaked into her mind.
Nova growled roughly, shoving down her impending distress. "Look, don't you have questions to ask about my medical records or something?"
"Oh, well," he said, skimming over his notepad. "I suppose we could skip ahead to those, if you are comfortable."
"Just ask the questions."
"Very well."
The man leaned forward to grab a better pen from the front of the desk, and the light revealed a rather crooked-looking monstrosity. White hair stood out in shocks on either side of his long, drawn face, framing a lopsided smile and glinting, sharp eyes. Over his right hand, he wore a dark leather glove.
And as the half-spark caught sight of him for the first time, she froze in her chair and stared, transfixed, at his face.
A memory, unbidden, slammed into her mind.
A white tray, with a newly emptied syringe. A lab table, with restraining straps, glossy and unbreakable, and a padded head-binder resting on the ground. White hair. Pain. A man's voice.
This man's voice.
A look of utmost horror flitted across her face, and realization sprang into her eyes.
"You," she whispered.
He paused, halfway in the light, but she could see he was grinning — almost leering.
"Pardon?" he asked.
Nova took one look at his smug, knowing stare, and she unfolded her arms, gripping the chair.
"You're Arkeville," she seethed, with undiluted hate surging through her veins. "You're one of them!"
"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, assuming the perfect picture of clinical innocence as he lifted his pen again. "Let's explore what you mean by 'them'. Is this the gang you spoke of before? Perhaps this means something very important to you?"
Nova shoved herself up from the chair and strode over to his desk, sticking an accusing finger in his face.
"Don't play dumb with me," she snarled. "I remember. I saw you there."
"You saw me where?"
The half-spark slammed her hands down on the desk, glaring at him with boiling fury. "You injected me with Energon yourself! You were in charge of the stupid projects—"
She stopped, staring at him.
"You were in charge of Coby."
Arkeville tilted his head. "Oh?"
"Did you hurt him, too?" she demanded, driving her fist into the desk's smooth surface. "Did you put the chip in his brain?!"
His mouth curled sideways in a sardonic smile. "You're the one being evaluated here. Not me."
Quicker than thinking, Nova reached out and seized him by the coat, dragging him out of his chair.
"I don't give a rip about your silly evaluation, you slimy little weasel!" she seethed, her eyes flashing. "What did you do to my brother?!"
Arkeville just kept smiling, the shadows from the disrupted bulb casting harsh ridges across his features.
"I would calm down if I were you," he said nonchalantly. "The instant you hurt me, this room will be crawling with soldiers ready to put you in a cell for the rest of your life. You wouldn't want that, now would you?"
At that moment, Nova's anger was instantly replaced by a horrible realization. She was stuck in a room with the person who was almost solely responsible for her nightmares. How many other soldiers around the room were involved with MECH? She was on enemy territory.
Nova let go of his coat as if she had been burned. Her hands shook. The blood pounded in her ears. She had to get away. She had to get out of this confounded room.
Arkeville sat back in his chair and smoothed out the collar casually.
"Please, sit down," Arkeville invited, grinning as he swept a hand toward the chair. "We have so much more to cover."
Nova darted toward the door, but before she could even touch the handle, Arkeville's right arm shot out and slammed her in the chest, sending her crashing back into her chair with amazing force.
He hit a button on his watch, and Nova felt a clanking noise coming from the back of the seat. Metal binders on the arms and legs locked around her ankles and wrists before her armor could form.
Dazed, Nova gasped for breath, staring at him in shock.
"That's better."
Arkeville removed the glove from his right hand as he said this. Underneath the glove was a metal prosthetic, complete with complex finger joints and cruel-looking claws. It glinted dully in the light.
"Remember when you gave me this?" Arkeville asked, smiling.
Nova's eyes were as wide a deer's caught in the headlights of a semi.
"You sliced my arm off at the elbow, the day you broke containment," he remarked, as though discussing the weather.
Nova did not respond. She was trembling. Arkeville did not seem to mind.
"You know, I really should thank you," he smiled, gazing at her with sick delight. "You inspired the construction of the most advanced prosthetic limb in human history."
Nova's breaths came short and fast, her mouth was drying out, and it was so — so hard to breathe. Why was it so hard to breathe?
She began to panic, feeling as though her chest was caving in. She gasped for air. Chills ran up her arms, mingling with cold sweat.
"Let's relive some old memories," Arkeville said, pulling a few tools out of his bag. "Do any of these look familiar to you?"
Petrified, Nova looked at the tools lying on the table, breathing hard. One of them was a laser-edged knife, the only kind MECH possessed which could pierce through her armor, and the other was a familiar metal remote, with one button on it.
"The control for the restraining bands," he explained, following her horrified gaze. "We used this on you if you misbehaved, remember?"
Nova trembled. Now she knew what the chair was for.
"Do you know what will happen if you misbehave now?"
She grimaced.
"Good." He shuffled his papers, and opened up his notepad. "Hopefully, we will not have to resort to such measures."
In a quavering croak, Nova murmured, "What … what do you want from me?"
"Quite simply, I want your mind," Dr. Arkeville replied. "If you cooperate, it will be much easier for everyone."
She shook. "And … if I don't?"
He shrugged, and pressed the button.
The hard plate at her back suddenly lit up with jolts of electricity, sending shocks into her spinal cord which should have paralyzed a normal human. Nova rose off the surface of the chair, jerking and tensing with the horrible, stinging, searing pain, unable to scream, the jagged blue fire bottled up under her skin.
Arkeville released the button, and Nova fell back. Spots flew in front of her eyes. She could barely force the breath into her lungs. Her stomach churned. She could not concentrate on what Arkeville was saying through the ringing in her ears. For all that, Nova was dimly aware of the fact that he had moved closer to her.
The half-spark's hands clutched the arms of the chair in a white-knuckled death grip.
"Please…" she croaked.
"Pardon?" Arkeville asked again.
"Please," she grunted, struggling to speak. "D-Don't hurt me..."
"That's exactly how your brother begged," Arkeville said pleasantly, making sure she could hear him. "Just before he lost his mind."
The words sank into her ears like sharpened knives through flesh. A tear dripped from Nova's eyes. A sob jarred her throat painfully, and once she had started, she could not stop. She shook in the chair's horrible embrace, the tears falling from her eyes like rain. Horrible thoughts roiled in her mind. Coby's face appeared before her again. Her skin throbbed. Her head ground out thoughts like an iron forge.
"Let's move on to another topic," Arkeville said, leafing through his notepad. "Let's talk about Stage Three. Your first injection."
Nova took in a shuddering breath, and clenched her fists on the chair's arms.
"Do you remember your first injection, Subject Alpha?"
Nova choked on another sob. She remembered.
"What do you recall about that day?"
With a great effort, she raised her eyes. "Everything."
He pressed the button again.
This time, the chair was worse. Patches of Nova's armor jerked out of her body, rattling with the force of the energy leaping through her flesh.
By the time Arkeville let go of the button, Nova was barely conscious. Something like smoke rose from her skin. Perhaps she was burning.
"Actually, you don't remember everything," he said cheerfully. "In fact, I'm willing to bet my other arm that you don't really remember much at all. You don't remember your parents, do you?"
Nova let out something like a choked cough.
"Do you remember where you were born? How you grew up? Any childhood friends? Anything at all about what you were before we found you?"
Nova closed her eyes, trembling in silence as Arkeville leaned into her ear and said, "No. You don't."
Her body shuddered in revulsion as he cupped her cheek, wiping away a stray tear.
"In fact, I would wager that the last real thing you remember is a fire," he said, as though speaking to a child. "Oh, yes — a big, bad fire. A fire that killed mommy and daddy and all of your childhood toys, isn't that what you think?"
He tutted a little, pulling away. "How very blind you are."
All the half-spark could do was glare at him, and she did so as if it would send poisoned daggers through his heart.
"Well, I suppose now that your mind is going to be rewritten, it doesn't really matter." With a brisk sigh, Arkeville released her, turning back to the desk and drawing something out of his briefcase. "Let me show you what I've been working on in your absence."
He showed her what he held in his left hand. Nova struggled to focus, staring at his fleshy fingers through blurred, aching lenses.
"This is a chip," he explained. "More specifically, it is a sub-cortical, hyper-cerebral implant of my own design. It stimulates the hypothalamus and regulates the basal ganglia in very complicated ways. Since your half-organic brain works more like a computer than the rest of our race, it allows me to alter you, subdue you, control you, whatever suits my fancy."
He turned the chip around and around in his fingers, a small smile spreading across his cheeks as he gazed at it. "It really is a wonderful little thing, you know. I'm quite proud of it.
"I wanted to put this in you the first day you came to the facility," he continued, raising his head to meet her eyes. "But Silas said you weren't ready — that you needed to be conditioned first."
Arkeville shrugged. "Our opinions differed. But that isn't the point. Basically, if I put this behind your ear," he said, moving closer. "I will be able to control you just like I controlled your brother."
Nova's head pounded. Memories of being subjected to the cortical psychic patch flashed through her mind; the sounds of Coby's uncontrollable rage and his hateful words rang in her ears.
"Get away from me!" she screamed in terror, thrashing against the restraints. "Get away!"
He pressed the button. The horrible electricity shot through Nova's muscles again, leaving her gasping for breath in the chair as Arkeville tutted to himself.
"I don't blame you for being afraid," he said sympathetically as the half-spark twitched. "I've heard this treatment is rather painful to resist. I'm surprised your brother lasted for so long against the chip. Really, he should have died."
He put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, yes, I suppose he did in the end, didn't he?"
Nova sobbed again, her breath hitching horribly in her sticking throat.
"Please …" she groaned. "Please, don't …"
Arkeville was about to press the button again, when suddenly, the door burst open on its hinges and crashed against the wall.
"That's enough, Arkeville!" someone shouted. There was a flabby sort of impact noise, as if that someone had punched a deflated football. The sounds of many heavy boots clomping into the room thundered in Nova's ears. Soldier's boots.
"Get 'er outta there, boys!"
Strong hands pried open the cuffs on her wrists and feet, and before she knew it, Nova was in someone's arms.
"Hey, kid? Kid, are you alright?"
Nova lashed out blindly, writhing out of Fowler's grip and staggering out the door. Her armor jutted out out in erratic patches, her eyes were glassy and wide, and shrill ringing filled her ears.
No. Not ringing. What was that horrible sound?
She pressed her hands to her ears. It was Coby — screaming.
Nova screamed louder, trying to drown out the awful noise, and ran as fast as she could. The white halls stretched before her, and she stumbled through them at a desperate pace, trying to find a way out. Endless halls twisted and turned her about, making her even more desperate for an escape, and then… Ah! Yes! there was a door — a door at last! — and she burst through it without decreasing her speed, sending the door flying off its hinges, shattered glass sprinkling the ground.
Nova staggered out into bright daylight with only one urgent thought on her mind.
Run.
"There she is!" A voice cried behind her. "Nova, stop!"
Nova did not turn around to see who it was, turning and sprinting away as fast as her body would allow. The whole world was fuzzy and made of bleeding light.
The half-spark charged away from the voices and the screams in a desperate panic. One of her legs was refusing to work properly, but she did not know why. She could barely think at all.
Dimly, she spotted a corner, and rounded it at full speed. She crashed into something hard that sent her reeling backwards.
"Nova?" a deep voice asked. "What happened to you?"
She looked up above her, relief flooding her veins.
"Optimus!"
She wobbled, and her knees collapsed, but she felt something strong sweeping her off the ground and carrying her to a safe height, far away from the earth. Far away from everyone.
"Nova?" Optimus demanded. "Who did this to you?"
"Arkeville," she choked, pointing in some direction. "Back there…"
She burst into tears, dropping her head into Optimus' palm.
But before an explanation could be offered, an authoritative voice rang out —
"What in the Sam Hill is goin' on here?!"
"Agent Fowler, what is the meaning of this?" Optimus asked. "You gave me your word Nova would not be harmed."
"That was the plan," he said, with no small amount of irritation. He gestured to the soldiers accompanying him. "Stand down, boys, I'll take it from here."
"But, sir—"
"I said, stand down!" Fowler interrupted, with such authority in his voice that the soldier actually stepped back.
"Right away, sir."
The soldiers marched back into the building, and Fowler rubbed at his face wearily.
"This wasn't the way it was supposed to go," he said quietly.
"What do you mean?" Optimus demanded. He had been taken off guard by horrific shocks in his spine after the meeting with General Bryce. His first thought was that humans were attacking him, but as the pain continued and he remained alone, he realized that was not the case. Nova's pain bit into him sharply, and he had stumbled around in a daze, looking for her until she had crashed into his leg.
"What did they do to her?" he asked, more insistently.
Fowler shook his head. "I dunno. But something happened in that interrogation room that none of us planned for. The interrogator was Dr. Henry Arkeville, a psychoanalyst who's been working with us for years." He grumbled. "I mean, he might've been working with us, but he wasn't workin' for us. We have reason to believe he's secretly been workin' for MECH, and he was tryna do somethin' to the kid. He's been taken into custody."
"It appears MECH has infiltrated your ranks," Optimus said gravely. "Or perhaps converted them."
From the rattling of tense metal and the low rumbling of his engine, Fowler could tell that the Prime was very, very upset, and it was not hard to see why.
Nova had withdrawn into Optimus' hand, curled up into a ball and taking in short, shallow breaths. She had stopped screaming and crying, but she was a mess — blue tears mixed with the burns on her face and hands, her armor partway off and haphazard on the whole, and her eyes… her eyes stared at nothing, but looked as if her gaze went on forever, staring into eternity.
"What's wrong with her?" Fowler asked. "I've never seen her so scared before."
"I have," Optimus said grimly. "I think it would be best if we took our leave of you, Agent Fowler."
"Does she … Is she gonna be all right?" Fowler asked.
Optimus shook his head. "I do not know."
Fowler sighed, swearing under his breath.
"All right," he said. "You go on and do whatever you have to do. I'll take care of things around here."
The Prime looked at him with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Agent Fowler."
With the girl in his hands, he transformed and drove out through the main gate. The sentries were happy to let him pass.
Once he had gone, Fowler breathed a sigh and shook his head, putting his hands on his hips.
"Man, it just burns me up to see that kid…"
He put a hand to his eyes. Then, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number, putting it to his ear.
"Operator? This is Special Agent William Fowler. Get me General Bryce."
He waited. Then, finally, Bryce picked up.
"What is it, Fowler?"
"Bryce. We have a situation," Agent Fowler said, pacing to and fro as he spoke on the phone. "Turns out the psych interrogator for the kid was Dr. Arkeville."
"So? We checked out his files. He's fully certified."
"He's most likely an informant for MECH, and he's been putting the kid under psychological torture for the past half-hour," Fowler said angrily. "Did you know about this?"
"You know I didn't. Where'd you put him?"
"We're arrangin' transport to the nearest federal prison," Fowler replied. "He'll need to be detained by more reliable hands in the future. He's dangerous, and we suspect he might be cybernetically enhanced as well. You're sure you didn't know about any of this?"
"I told you, no."
"With all due respect, sir," Fowler said, rolling his eyes. "If that information managed to get lost somewhere between his files and my desk, then there's probably more of them in the works."
Bryce swore on the other end.
"We need to take care of this before it gets out of hand," he growled.
"I'm afraid it already might be outta hand, sir," Fowler said. "As of today, we can't trust anyone."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Nova sat quietly in Optimus' passenger side, her hands balled into fists in her lap. She was staring, listlessly, at her shaking legs, unable to tear her gaze away. Her armor had settled back into her spine, and the burns on her face were beginning to heal, but she was still trembling uncontrollably with something much colder than fear.
Optimus' seatbelt was pulled tightly around her, as if he hadn't quite convinced himself that she was safe. His engine rumbled much louder than it should have, and — Primus, forgive him — he was so very angry.
"Ratchet," he bit out into the commlink. "Please send an immediate Groundbridge."
"You are too close to population, Optimus," Ratchet informed him. "I suggest you drive a few miles away from the town to avoid suspicion."
"Very well."
Suddenly, Nova let out a quiet sob.
"Optimus…"
"Yes, Nova," Optimus said firmly, tightening the seatbelt. "I'm here."
She took in a shaking breath and put her hands over her ears, sinking forward as the seatbelt loosened and resting her head on his glove compartment.
"Okay," she whimpered, sobbing quietly. "Okay."
"You are safe now," Optimus said, a little softer. "You do not need to be afraid."
"B-but he almost put that thing…" Nova shuddered. "He almost got into my head… He — he got into Coby's head…"
His engine rumbled again, and he tried to regain his control, but he found his wrath beginning to grow as he listened to her cry.
"I know," he said. "I am … deeply sorry, Nova. I should have been there to protect you."
Her tears fell faster, and she curled up against his window with a look of awful sadness etched into her eyes.
"But we are fortunate that he did not succeed, and as long as I am alive, I will never leave you again," continued her guardian, his steering wheel blinking. "I promise."
Nova sat there for a minute, sniffling as she looked out of the glass.
"Optimus?"
"Yes?"
"Do you…" she shifted a little. "Do you think it's possible for someone to remember something that never happened?"
For a moment, Optimus considered the question. He had heard her story about her time in the Nemesis laboratory, and her encounter with the cortical psychic patch. He knew how afraid she had been afterwards, and how many nightmares had chased her around for several nights because of it. And today — today that Dr. Arkeville had done it to her again.
"Why do you ask?" he inquired.
"Because I…" she swallowed a little. "I can't remember my parents. Where I was born. What I did before MECH found me."
"But I thought you told me your parents were—"
"Killed. Yeah."
She curled up in his seat, pressing her cheek against the headrest. "I thought they were. I thought I loved them. But the more I try to remember them; what they looked like, how they talked to me … it all fades away. Like it was never real at all."
"Perhaps you need to rest."
"No," she shook her head. "It's been like this for a while. At first, I thought I had spent so much time with MECH that my memories were fuzzy. I told myself that they would come back. And I waited, and waited, but they never did. So I just ignored it, because I thought I was crazy."
She pulled her knees up to her chest. "But then Coby told me he couldn't remember either. And today, Arkeville…" she squeezed her eyes shut. "He asked me if I could tell him even one thing about my past, and I — I couldn't."
Optimus was quiet, listening to her work it out in her head before she continued.
"It's all gone, Optimus," she ground out at last. "Everything I thought I knew — it's completely gone. I don't even know who I am anymore…"
Her voice dissolved into sobs again, and her armor felt rough against the glass of the window.
"All I remember … is waking up … seeing something burning, and wondering if Coby was all right. And then MECH took me away. And I got out. And then I met you."
"And that is all that you need to remember," Optimus replied. "You can build a new life with us."
"But… what if I used to be something awful?" Nova asked. "What if I had something in my past so horrible that MECH made me forget it?"
"Your past makes no difference to me," her guardian reassured.
Nova sniffled. "Really?"
"I have seen you put yourself at risk to save those around you, even when no one would have blamed you for standing down. I have seen you rise above your fear and do what is right, over and over again. And I am very proud of you."
Nova felt fresh tears roll down her face at his words, and she crumpled again in relief. "Th-thank you."
Optimus hummed a little. "Rest, Nova."
For the first time since they had left the military base, Nova collapsed her helmet, opening up her armor a little to draw a hand over her nose, and gradually, the engine of the truck settled to the regular, comforting rhythm that she so adored.
After a while, her staggered breathing slowed, and the tears dried on her cheeks at long last. The half-spark yawned, lulled by the sound of the truck. He could tell she was already falling asleep.
"Where're we going?" she asked groggily.
"Home."
"Oh, good," she sighed, cradling her head in the seatbelt. "Sounds nice."
Optimus thoroughly agreed.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Arkeville sat quietly in his cell, fiddling with his wrist mechanisms from time to time. It appeared to the guard that he was suffering from the monotony of jail time, but in reality, Arkeville was sending a coded message to his superiors with very slight electrical signals.
Failed to retrieve Subject Alpha. The asset was not implanted with control chip. Successfully analyzed mental state. Results: Subject shows strong symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Easily influenced by verbal triggers, mnemonic cues, and familial bonds. Prone to irrational judgment and aggression when manipulated.
False memory implants failing. As a result, Subject Alpha does not remember placeholder events preceding its arrival date. Conclusion: Subject is disoriented and may be easily implanted, once location is discovered. Mission in progress.
"Hey! What are you doing in there?" the guard demanded, hitting the bars with the butt of his gun.
"Nothing, my good man," Arkeville replied amicably, rotating his prosthetic wrist. "Merely solving a problem, is all."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
That night, Ratchet put down his tools and turned away from the medical table to face Optimus.
"I've given her a mild sedative," Ratchet said quietly. "She'll be able to rest without nightmares for a while."
"Thank you, old friend," Optimus replied.
"Now," Ratchet said, folding his arms. "Before you do anything to get us into even more trouble with humankind, I suggest you take a seat and tell me exactly what happened today."
Optimus did so, lowering himself onto one of the storage containers and telling the whole story, from his perspective. Agent Fowler's interview with General Bryce had not gone well, and Optimus had been called in to intervene when the general remained unconvinced of his intent. Shortly afterwards, Optimus had felt a searing pain in his limbs, though the sensation was not his own, and Fowler immediately departed to find Nova. Optimus confided in Ratchet that the pain had felt like being electrocuted by Knock Out's staff.
Then, before Fowler had returned, Nova had crashed into his leg.
"I imagine you were … upset to see her that way," Ratchet said.
Optimus looked at the little girl lying on the medical table. "She was alone, without my help, and her enemies took advantage of it."
The medic sighed, folding his arms.
"Nova has a lot of people gunning for her," he said. "Trouble follows her wherever she goes. Even you can't protect her forever."
Optimus set his jaw, and did not respond.
Changing the subject, Ratchet tapped a few words into the medical logs. "What was that she was mumbling about when she got home? A headache?"
"No," Optimus denied, getting to his feet. "She cannot remember anything about her life prior to her captivity."
"Memory lapses?" Ratchet looked up from the monitor, his head tilted at an odd angle. "Those aren't uncommon after a traumatic event, especially after the many she's had."
"I do not believe that is the cause of her worry, Ratchet," said Optimus. "Nova believes that her memory has been steadily deteriorating since she found refuge with us. She confided in me that her brother felt the same."
"Interesting," Ratchet said, his chin in his hand. "Do you suppose someone could have tampered with her mind? Implanted memories of a past she never had?"
"I would not put such an opportunity past an organization such as MECH," Optimus replied gravely.
"But to alter a mind to such a degree, you would need a blank slate," Ratchet puzzled out. "Which could mean someone else got ahold of her before the humans did."
He thought about this further, nodding his head slowly. "You know, I have speculated that MECH was not the first to give Nova Cybertronian attributes. The Cybermatter in her spinal array is proof of much older tampering."
"I remember."
"What does this mean?" Ratchet asked. "If someone else did things to her even MECH couldn't come up with, she could be more dangerous than we ever realized. Where did she come from? Who sent her here? And most importantly," he said, leveling a stare at the Prime. "What if they come looking for her?"
"We will protect her," Optimus replied. "As we promised. I will not abandon her in her time of need."
"What if that kills you?"
Optimus looked at him. "Would I not make the same sacrifice for any of you?"
"She is different from us. From everyone."
"And she suffers for it."
"Alongside you, yes," said Ratchet. "Which brings up more questions. How is she able to sense your reactions to pain? And how did she know Unicron was coming before he even awoke? She had no idea Unicron even existed."
Considering this, Optimus looked down at his chest. "But the Matrix did."
Ratchet leaned back, shock written in his gaping face. "Are you saying—"
"I am saying that Nova has been bestowed with a great gift — as well as the desire to do right," Optimus said gravely. "And until we know more about her past, we will treat her with the same dignity we would offer to all sentient life forms, especially those under our care."
Ratchet sighed deeply. "Well, I'm afraid this strange connection is just something you will both have to bear, until it passes or I find a medical solution to it. In the meantime—" he began to usher the Prime back to his quarters. "You need to stop carrying Nova's problems on your shoulders and focus on our current situation. You might not have heard, but there is a war on."
Optimus sighed. "I suppose you are right, old friend."
"As per usual."