Bulkhead woke to a loud rumbling, like the sound of heavy flight engines. His optics struggled to focus, and his head pounded with sudden pain. Why was everything so loud?
"Ugh," he groaned, sitting up and placing a hand on his head. "Oh, my head-gasket."
As his eyes came into focus, he realized something. This place looked familiar, and not in a good way.
"What the—"
He looked around. Dark, metal-plated room, glowing violet accent lights, stacks upon stacks of processed Energon cubes…
"The Cons' warship?" Bulkhead asked himself, backing up in astonishment. His heel struts dipped suddenly, and he spun around, just in time to avoid the open port in the belly of the ship. "Whoa!"
He had been very close to tripping and plummeting through thin air. The ship was soaring high above the clouds, miles up in the air.
Better stay away from that, he thought to himself. This place is a slagging death trap.
"Ratchet, don't ask me how I got here — long story," Bulkhead said into his comms.
To his surprise, there was no response. No static, no feedback, nothing.
"Ratchet. You copy?"
No answer.
"Oh, scrap," Bulkhead growled. He'd have to make it on his own, which wouldn't be easy; the place was probably crawling with Cons.
As cautiously and quietly as he could, Bulkhead tiptoed through the door, with a wary glance up and down the hallway.
No Cons. That was weird.
"Stealthy … stealthy…" he muttered.
He jumped at a sudden noise. Footsteps.
Frag, there were Cons after all. Three troopers, headed straight for him.
Bulkhead turned to dart back into the Energon storage room, but the door shut in his face. His body slammed up against it clumsily. Apparently, it had an automatic lock.
Panicking, trying to make himself look small — which was a challenge, believe it or not — Bulkhead ducked behind a corner just as the patrolling troopers walked by. Miraculously, they took no notice of him.
Gradually, Bulkhead eased out from his position and backed away from the troopers, keeping an eye on them, making sure they didn't see his escape —
Until something sharp slammed into his back.
Bulkhead whipped around, guns at the ready, only to be greeted by a familiar face.
Again, not familiar in a good way.
"Starscream?!"
His wings still flared, the Seeker lowered his own guns and groaned in exasperation.
"Why is it," he seethed, "that every time I return to my old stomping grounds, I find an Autobot roaming the halls?"
He glared at Bulkhead in disgust. Bulkhead's reaction was mutual.
"Don't tell me you came crawling back to Megatron," he growled.
The Seeker stiffened in indignation. "Hardly. Now, out of my way."
He tried to walk past the Wrecker, but Bulkhead raised his hands, moving to block his path.
"Scream, you gotta show me the way off this boat," he said, getting straight to the point. He didn't want to be here any longer than he needed to be.
"Sorry, too busy," Starscream replied. Strangely enough, he did seem to be busy. There was a sense of urgency about him; Bulkhead got the distinct feeling that the Seeker was supposed to be somewhere else. But Bulkhead didn't care. He was supposed to be somewhere else, too.
"Look," he growled, pointing a finger into Starscream's scrawny chest. "When you needed help—"
"As I recall, we bartered," Starscream interrupted, angrily sweeping his arm away, "So, unless you have anything of value to offer me; step aside!"
Bulkhead began to get really angry.
"The exit. Now!"
Starscream's eyebrows flared. "I may have given Arcee a free pass when she and I last met — !"
He slashed his talons across Bulkhead's chest, shaving off a shower of sparks and causing the Wrecker to stumble back.
"— But I won't hesitate to skewer you as I did a certain Cliffjumper," Starscream hissed, glaring at the Wrecker.
Bulkhead grunted in pain, moving his shaking hand away from his chest to reveal the gashes that the talons had carved into his chassis.
He looked at Starscream, and then the Seeker realized his fatal mistake.
"Rrraaauugh!" Bulkhead roared, charging forward. He formed his mace and slammed it up into Starscream, sending the smaller mech flying.
Starscream hit the floor with a groan, but sat up almost instantly with his guns ratcheted back, an expression of rage in his face.
"Perish, Bulkhead!" he snarled.
But Bulkhead was bigger and stronger than he was, and he was angry. He leapt into the air with another roar and slammed his mace down onto the terrified Seeker, over and over again.
"This is for Cliffjumper!"
Crash!
"For Bumblebee!"
Crash!
"For everything."
Crash!
With a final blow from the Wrecker's mace, the Seeker stopped struggling, and Bulkhead could see the light fading from what was left of his eyes.
Before he could think better of his decision, Bulkhead knew it was too late. Starscream was dead.
Panting, the Wrecker stepped away from the Seeker in horror. Realizing what he had done, Bulkhead deactivated his mace and glanced down at his hands.
"He … left me no choice," he said to himself.
Even still, there was a horrible sense of guilt leaking into his Spark.
What did I just do?
It didn't matter. It really was going to slow him down if he kept thinking about it. Someone had probably heard the noise. If Soundwave was on board, he would definitely already have heard it.
Bulkhead dragged the body into the nearest storage closet and left it there, looking around the hall for anything he could use to get off the ship.
The nearest door was standing wide open, revealing the familiar array of computer monitors and keypads that told Bulkhead only one thing.
"A comm unit!"
He rushed over to the computer, and almost groaned in frustration.
Of course, it all had to be Decepticon-friendly stuff. Why can't they have normal comm keypads like everyone else?
He began to press the buttons that looked most familiar. He could do this. He could do this.
"Bulkhead to base. Do you read?"
The glowing display of the planet spun before him, giving no indication that his message had even been delivered. He kept pressing buttons.
"Do you copy?" Bulkhead said, his voice taking on a desperate edge. This whole ship was giving him a bad feeling in his transistors. Their computers were no help. He pressed more buttons
"Stupid Con tech," he grumbled, trying to figure it out. "Is this thing even on?"
As he pressed every wrong button, the system suddenly flared with a red light, and ringing alarms began to blare from the monitor. Bulkhead put his hands over his audio receptors.
Scrap!
He panicked for a second, gathered his wits and glanced down at the keyboard, hitting the center button quickly. Mercifully, the alarms stopped.
"Whew," he breathed, sliding his hand away from his audial. Think they heard that?
The sudden sound of a door sliding open gave him the answer. Bulkhead bolted, trying to get out of sight of the two Vehicons entering the room. Knowing he couldn't outrun them, he ducked into an adjoining hall and waited, not daring to make a sound.
"Halt!" the Vehicons shouted, charging past his hiding place. Thank Primus they hadn't seen him.
I really have to get outta here.
Bulkhead fled the scene, painfully aware of how obnoxious his footsteps were. Why did he have to be so loud?
Behind him, blinking quietly, an icon flashed onto the monitor screen. A Decepticon beacon had been activated.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
"Optimus," Ratchet said, calling the others over. "No word yet from Bulkhead. But I am detecting some rather curious subterranean frequencies."
"Of Earthly origin?" Optimus inquired.
Ratchet pressed a few buttons on the computer. "I do not yet know what they are, but I do know where."
A red dot pinged on the map, in a familiar location.
"The coordinates at which we last encountered Megatron," Optimus observed.
"And Airachnid," Arcee said, her voice laced with hate.
"And Airachnid's Insecticon," Ratchet reminded them, turning from his monitor.
Bumblebee buzzed in remembrance. They would have to be careful.
"I'll lock on the Groundbridge coordinates," Ratchet said.
Optimus looked around. "Where is Miko?"
Arcee shrugged. "She was here a minute ago."
The Prime made his way to the back of the base. Miko was there, curled up in a ball underneath the medical table.
Optimus bent down. "Miko?"
Miko was on the edge of tears. She looked out at him, her eyes glistening.
"Where is he?" she asked. "He's been gone for a whole day! What if he's — what if he's…"
She broke off, hiding her head in her arms.
"Ratchet informed us that Bulkhead is fine," Optimus said. "His vitals are unchanged. He will be back home soon."
Miko sniffled. "Are you sure?"
Optimus nodded. "Yes. And when he returns, I know he will be very happy to see you."
The girl, smiling, got to her feet and wiped her eyes a little.
"Yeah, you're — you're probably right," Miko said, her face brightening. "Thanks, Boss bot!"
She bounded out of the room, most likely intending to annoy Ratchet.
Optimus looked solemnly at who lay on the top of the table. Nova had still not awakened. She looked very pale, and still. If it were not for the vitals beside the bed, pinging steadily, Optimus would have thought …
He stifled his worry and turned to leave, but something troubled him. Something told him not to leave. Something felt wrong in his tanks; a sense of fatigue, or illness.
Optimus turned and walked away before he could change his mind. He had to stop being so protective. If Jack's interactions with his mother were any indication; humans didn't like people who hovered.
"Open the Groundbridge, old friend," Optimus said, approaching Ratchet. "Autobots, prepare to roll out."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Airachnid reveled in the feeling of being in complete sync with her hundreds of warriors, her multitudes of servants, the Insecticons which bent to her every will. Her first servant had been loyal enough, but sadly, he had not lasted long against Megatron, and her first attempt at revenge was thwarted.
But ever since she had found an entire hive of his brothers in this cave, hidden away in the depths of the planet's mountains, Airachnid had known revenge would finally be hers. She bided her time, and waited for the right moment to bring her power to bear against the warlord once again. And when the Decepticon beacon had finally been activated, she knew, finally, that this was the day she would taste vengeance.
She leaned down to the entrance to the cave with a hint of a smile, her many legs curled into her back, and she cried:
"Arise, my armada, and attack!"
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The first sight that greeted the Autobots as they exited the Groundbridge was not a welcome one. Hordes of Insecticons spurted out from between the rocks of the mountain and shot into the air, taking flight and swarming in the sky. The Insecticons were not even aware of the Autobots' presence, and traveled in a specific direction with clear intent.
Optimus took one look, and voiced what they were all thinking.
"We are in all likelihood witnessing the launch of a mission to terminate Megatron," he said, walking towards the cliff and looking down.
"I can't think of a reason to stop that," Arcee said, staring up at the horde. "Even if we could."
"But we can stop Airachnid," Optimus replied, looking down at the spider like femme, who gazed out at her armada with twisted, gleeful pride.
Optimus armed his battle mask, and the Autobots charged their weapons, aiming directly for Airachnid.
Unfortunately, she heard the sound.
"Rear guard," she commanded clearly. "Engage the Autobots."
Prime looked up in surprise as six Insecticons broke off from the group and spiraled down towards them, ion cannons locked and loaded.
The Autobots leapt back, shielding themselves as the Insecticons rained laser fire on the mountain, sending up plumes of red fire and smoke.
Airachnid turned to watch, pleased, as the three hapless Autobots disappeared in the fog of black. But suddenly, the vehicle form of Arcee shot out from the cloud, trailing smoke from her wheels and landing just where Airachnid stood, causing the spider to retreat. Optimus and Bumblebee, their lasers lighting up with blue fire, stood atop the mountain, downing one Insecticon after another as Arcee pursued the renegade femme alone, in hot pursuit of her nemesis.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Nova woke up slowly, and the first thing she saw was a shadowy, human shape, poised above her.
Terrified, the half-spark reacted the only way she knew how. Adrenaline shot through her body, spurring her into deadly panic. She flailed, screaming, trying to knock the person away. But it grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back down.
Nova struggled harder. She had been caught belly-up. She was vulnerable. It was going to kill her!
Armor snapped over her arms in record time as she charged up her weapons and shoved the person back. "Get off me!"
"Whoa, whoa, Novster!" the person said, scrambling away as Nova raised her guns. "Chill out! It's only me!"
Breathing hard, Nova blinked rapidly, trying to force air into her lungs. The shadows cleared from her eyes as she gaped up at the girl.
"Miko?!" she choked.
"Uh, duh!" Miko said, frightened and more than a little irritated. "Who'd ya think it was?"
Nova let her head fall back, gasping into the safety of her helmet.
"Miko," she whispered. "Please don't scare me like that."
"Um … I'm sorry." Miko still stayed a safe distance from her, eyeing the half-spark warily. "Uh… Nova? Were you really gonna … you know … kill me?"
The question dangled in the air. Nova squeezed her eyes shut, and shuddered with the thought of what she had almost done to Miko. Her hands tingled, and went slick with sweat. Her head pounded.
"Miko, I'm — I'm so sorry," she began to ramble. "I — I didn't know it was you; honest. I was just tired and you scared me, and I thought I was somewhere else—" She swallowed, trying to force some moisture down her dry throat. "I don't know what I thought. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Miko cocked her head to the side, surveying Nova's face.
"Uh, Nova, are you okay?" she asked cautiously. "You look kinda…" she waved her hand a little. "Off."
At the moment, Nova didn't even have the strength to wipe away the beads of sweat trickling down her forehead. Something was wrong. Her hands felt clammy. Why was it so cold in the medibay? And why did her tongue feel like a swelling lump of clay in her mouth?
"Yeah, I'm fine," she forced herself to say. "Where — where's everyone?"
"Out fighting Cons," Miko replied. "Bulkhead's been gone all day. He went out to find Energon and never checked in. I'm kinda worried about him. But maybe he'll get the chance to trash some Insecticons! And Airachnid's shown up again, so maybe Arcee will get to beat her nemesis. I bet they're on some awesome Con scrapping mission right now. Maybe they're even beating up Megatron! Wouldn't that be sweet?"
Nova did not respond.
Miko bent down to look closer at her. The half-spark was shaking.
"Nova?"
No answer.
Gently, and a little apprehensively, Miko tapped Nova's metal shoulder timidly.
"Uh … Novster? You okay?"
Nova winced, and shifted away from her.
"Stop," she hissed, shivering. "Please."
Miko's eyes widened.
"Nova?"
"Go 'way."
Alarmed, Miko reached down and shook her in earnest. "Nova, get up!"
Nova opened her eyes slowly. They were dull, red, weary. She raised her gaze to Miko's face. Even through the helmet, Miko could see that Nova's face glistened with a mixture of sweat and tears, and she took in short, shallow breaths, as though she had lost all of her strength in the five minutes since she had woken up.
Nova grimaced.
"Can't…" she said weakly. "Go away..."
Something was definitely wrong.
Miko jumped to her feet. "I'll go get Ratchet! Stay here!"
She slid clumsily down the table's leg and dropped to the floor, stumbling a bit and charging up the stairs.
"Ratchet! You gotta come quick!"
Ratchet never turned from his computer. "What is it now, Miko?"
"I think there's something wrong with Nova!"
The medic grumbled a little.
"Yes, yes, Miko. Nova has a little something called PTSD. Now, please try to be quiet while I attempt to get a fix on Bulkhead's coordinates. The scrapes he gets into, I swear to Primus…" he said something under his breath and kept typing.
"Ratchet!" Miko said sharply. "Nova's sick!"
Pausing, Ratchet turned to her.
"What?"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Miko said. "Nova's sick. Like, sick sick! She's barely moving and she's hot and stuff."
Without another word, Ratchet abandoned the computer monitor and strode into the medibay, opening his scanner as he approached the table.
"Has she said anything to you?" he demanded of the girl who watched behind the railing.
"Uh, yeah, she tried to shoot me when she woke up," Miko said.
"She tried to shoot you?!"
"I think she forgot who I was."
"It might be a side-effect of the sedatives," Ratchet muttered to himself, scanning the half-spark. "Then again, it might just be fatigue. But she slept for so long… maybe it's some human virus she's caught…"
He switched off the scanner and looked over the results intently.
"Elevated temperature, heightened pulse, low energy…" he abandoned the scanner and bent over the half-spark, peering down at her.
"Is it the flu?" Miko asked.
Ratchet ignored her.
"Nova," he said quietly, rolling her over on her back. "Nova, can you look at me, please?"
The question was casual, almost gentle. This was serious. Miko hardly ever heard that tone of voice from Ratchet.
Nova looked up at the medic, and feebly tried to move away, her guns still armed.
"Don't touch me," she mumbled.
"It's all right," said Ratchet, inspecting her closely. "I'm trying to help."
She lifted her guns with a growl. "I said, get away from me!"
Ratchet removed his hands, raising them slightly. "Nova. I'm not going to hurt you. I would never do that. I'm just trying to figure out what's wrong."
Slowly, Nova lowered her shaking guns, more from fatigue than anything else. Ratchet held off on contact for a second, asking instead, "How do you feel?"
With a sigh, the half-spark murmured something incoherent, and closed her eyes. "Head hurts."
"What else hurts?" Ratchet asked, stooping to lift her chin, inspecting her face, neck, and eyes with the practiced eyes of a medic.
"I dunno," Nova hissed. "Everything."
"Be more specific."
She grumbled a little, attempting to pull away.
"My bones hurt," she said softly. "Like they're all rubbing together or something. Can't move very well."
"Go on," Ratchet said.
"My back hurts, too," she winced. "Like … a lot."
"Can you transfor—" Ratchet corrected himself. "Can you take off your armor?"
Nova paused for a moment, making an effort. One by one, her guns collapsed, and her hands were free, but once she tried to pull apart the armor at her chest, it snapped back together like magnetic strips.
A terrible silence followed as she tried again and again, with the same results.
"N-no… I … can't! I can't!" Nova gasped, and her breath hitched as panic began to seize her. "Ratchet?! Ratchet, I can't do it! It hurts!"
"All right, all right, just relax," Ratchet said. "It's all right. Do you feel anything else wrong?"
Breathing quickly, clenching her fists, Nova gulped and kept her eyes shut.
"I don't know!"
"Nova, calm down," Ratchet ordered. "I'm trying to help you. Can you tell me anything else?"
"I'm … cold," she said. "I'm … really, really cold…"
Sweat sprinkled her forehead, trickled down her jawbone. Ratchet stared at her face intently, his sharp eyes scrutinizing her body as he searched for all the signs and symptoms of every affliction he remembered. For all his obvious concern, though, he still spoke as gently as before.
"Well, that won't do, will it? We'll get you warm and turn off the lights, and you can take a nap. How does that sound?"
Exhausted, Nova tilted her head a little. "Okay…"
The half-spark's words were slurred, soft, as if she was putting as little effort into speaking as possible. Within a few more seconds, she had fallen into a light doze.
Having learned everything he needed to know, Ratchet stood up straight and put his scanner away.
"Is she dying?" Miko asked in a loud whisper.
Ratchet glanced at her briefly as he dimmed the lights.
"Dying? No, I don't think so," he said, exiting the medibay. "But she is in a strange condition. You say she attacked you when she woke up?"
"No!" Miko said. "I mean, for a second, I thought she was, but she didn't."
"Did she use her armor then?"
"Yeah."
The medic mused on this quietly, walking back to his computer and mumbling a few things under his breath.
"Adrenaline surge … possible symptoms of … rapid pulse, temperature swings … delirium? …maybe it's just stress… then again…"
Miko followed him around the railing again, unsure what to make of this new Ratchet she had discovered. It was strange to see him this caring. If the other Bots were sick, he'd berate them or wrench them for giving him less sass than Nova had.
Yes, this was weird, but Miko was delighted. This was the exact opposite of a boring day!
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Bulkhead lumbered through the lower ventilation shafts of the warship's main decks as best he could. Why on earth did he have to get stuck on the warship, today of all days? He and Miko had had plans today. Big plans. Fun plans. Plans that did not involve killing Starscream or running from Vehicons or getting trapped in their enemy's mobile base of operations, or almost-dying at all.
It might have happened anyway, but still. It was much less epic when it wasn't his own choice.
"Stealthy … stealthy," he told himself out loud. He was headed for the flight deck on the aft section of the warship. If he could get outside, maybe he could radio for help. In any case, being outside was much better than sneaking around in here.
Where the slag am I going, anyhow? What direction is this? Just keep going. You'll get somewhere…
"Stealthy…"
A trooper's voice suddenly blared over the comms unit.
"Lord Megatron."
Bulkhead froze. Megatron? If they were addressing the warlord himself, then that meant -
Oh, slag, no. No.
"Yes, what is it?" Megatron's voice replied, making Bulkhead's Energon run cold. He realized with a burning horror that he was right next to the Decepticon warlord's feet. If he made any noise now, he would die.
Shut up!
"An intruder," the trooper reported over the comm.
"Autobot?" Megatron inquired.
Bulkhead cringed, awaiting the affirmative reply. This was it. He was going to get found out. He was going to be slagged in the middle of the Decepticon warship. He would never watch another monster movie with Miko again. He would never see Wheeljack or Arcee or Bumblebee again —
"Starscream," the trooper replied. "He was last seen in the vicinity of the bridge."
Bulkhead gaped.
But, I just scrapped Starscream …
Megatron stalked off in the opposite direction, heading for the bridge. His receding footsteps brought Bulkhead back to reality.
I gotta get outta here. This is too crazy for one day. Where's the exit?
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The spider-bot leapt from the toppled heights of boulders as she fled from the blue motorcycle, loping through the forest at an uncanny pace.
Arcee revved up her engine, pushing her highest speeds as she hurtled toward her nemesis. The trees blocked Airachnid's escape by air, and no matter how fast she ran, the spider did not stand a chance against Arcee's speed in vehicle mode. She would get her this time. She would make her pay for everything she did to Tailgate. This was it. This was the day!
A forceful laser blast from behind knocked Arcee off course. She popped an easy wheelie, managing to stay on her wheels as she launched herself forward. She propped up her rearview mirror to glance at the sky behind her. Sure enough, there were two Insecticons hot on her tail.
I don't fragging have time for this.
The Insecticons launched laser bolts at her, one after the other, punching into the soil and rocks around the motorcycle, but the brutes were so intent upon hitting their target that they did not notice the tree in front of them, until it was too late.
The first Insecticon narrowly missed the tree and careened off course, colliding with his fellow and spinning off into the air, headed directly for their mistress and queen herself.
"No!" Airachnid shouted, unable to stop the hurtling mass until it had knocked her off the boulder mound.
Arcee skidded to a stop on the edge of the overhang, transforming and staring down into the hollow where Airachnid had fallen.
The familiar drilling noise of the tunneling femme rang out into the forest, and when the dust had settled, only a hole remained.
Arcee walked to the edge of the tunnel and stared down into it, knowing that her enemy lay at the end, waiting for her.
"Underground," she muttered to herself. "There's a surprise."
She was going to follow her. Of course she was. There was no other option.
Without hesitating, without calling for backup or turning back, Arcee drew her weapons and leapt into the tunnel, intent on fulfilling her purpose.
Tailgate would be avenged today.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Megatron paused in the last corridor before the bridge, quietly surveying the remains of fallen Vehicon troopers at either side of the entrance. They had been quickly and messily dispatched, and deep talon gouges could be seen embedded into their lifeless chassis, giving him assurance of exactly who he was dealing with.
These troopers had likely been taken off their guard, attacked mercilessly while their backs were turned, or while they were working at their posts. They had not deserved to die with such disgrace.
He entered the bridge with his fusion cannon raised. Vehicon parts and chassis shavings littered the ground. Megatron kept walking, wary but unafraid. If he knew anything about Starscream, the Seeker would either be waiting in ambush or preparing a needlessly dramatic monologue specifically for his arrival.
It appeared to be the latter.
Starscream stood, with his back turned, at the main console on the end of the bridge, his hands folded behind his back.
Megatron had not run out of patience to the point where he would shoot Starscream in the back. Not yet. Part of him was curious to see where this was headed. Part of him wanted to let Starscream make his next move in this ridiculous game they had concocted over the years. The audacity of his former second-in-command never failed to amuse him.
That, Megatron reasoned, was probably the real reason he had made the mistake of keeping him around for so long. At times, he took a sick sort of interest in Starscream's game. Unfortunately, treachery seemed to be the only game the Seeker was willing to play.
He kept his fusion cannon raised anyhow. Starscream was reckless, but he was not an idiot. He always had something planned.
Sure enough, as Megatron neared, the Seeker turned around, his customary smirk plastered on his face.
"Megatron," he said, almost nonchalantly. "It has come time to settle old scores."
The warlord let out a laugh, and lowered his fusion cannon. He did not know what he was expecting, but this — this was ridiculous.
"Really, Starscream?" he asked aloud. "All on your own?"
"Actually…" a chorus of familiar voices rang out.
Megatron glanced to his left and to his right.
He was surrounded by not one, not two, but three more Starscreams, each standing with their right arm raised, rockets pointed directly at his head.
Megatron faced forward once again and directed a look at the nearest Starscream.
This was certainly an amusing turn of events. Not exactly what he was expecting, but in this game, being surprised was part of the fun.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Nova was miserable.
She had tried several times to stay asleep, but she kept falling into that awful half-awake doze that always afflicts the sick. It tortured her, dangling her for a long time over the tantalizing promise of rest, but jerking her back into consciousness every time a chill gripped her bones.
She shivered. The dark room had provided some relief to her eyes, but it was still hard to form any staggering thoughts between the rhythmic pounding of her head. It felt as though Bulkhead was slamming his maces into her skull, over and over.
Nova breathed tentatively, knowing that if she took a really deep lungful, it would send a rush of oxygen into her throbbing head, and she didn't want that to happen. So she settled for short, shallow gasps, attempting to stay as still as possible.
Her face and skin felt so hot, but she was trembling with an empty sort of chill that was real only to her. Her fingers were limp, weak, and clammy. Every slight movement felt strange, foreign, as if she were slowly coming detached from her own body. Dull, persistent aches pulsed in her back.
Half-awake, Nova thought about getting up. She thought about it for a long time.
Her consciousness swung like a pendulum, dragging her in and out of limbo.
Over the course of who-knows-how-long, Nova sped through several short, snippy dreams that almost convinced her she really had gotten up, and even made her believe for a minute that she was actually walking around and moving.
But every time the pendulum swung back again, Nova awoke to find herself lying on the hard medibay slab, no more mobile than a tree stump.
At this point, just raising her head seemed like an insurmountable task — but the thought of actually standing felt as daunting as climbing Mount Everest.
After what seemed like several feverish hours, Nova opened her eyes a little. Was she really awake?
She thought about it a moment, just to be sure.
Yes, she was awake this time. Mostly.
With a tremendous effort, Nova gradually pulled herself out of unconsciousness, and slowly became aware of her body again. Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, her ears seemed stuffed with loads of ringing cotton, and she could feel her own teeth in all the most uncomfortable ways. Sweat plastered her forehead, drying in her hair, adding to the cold she already felt.
What's happening to me?
Internally, she told herself to get up, demanding action, but her body was disgusted with the thought. It would be so much easier to just lay here, and rest.
Rest.
No! She had rested long enough. It was high time she got up and did something, like find out where everyone was — or get some water, or something.
Nova gathered all her will, and slowly managed to raise her head. The entire room spun around her. She whined. Her head pounded painfully, her bones protested in harmony with her aching muscles, but the half-spark squeezed her eyes shut, and finally forced herself to sit up, swaying a little in the darkness.
She slumped forward, huffing quietly, waiting until everything slowed down… slowed down… And gradually, quietly, it did.
Nova sighed, resting her head on her knees as she took a break.
Well. She was kind of sitting up. Now what?
She hadn't thought that far. She could barely think at all. Her head swum. She put her hands on her forehead and groaned, trying to drown out the pounding in her ears.
Nova supposed the next step would be to slide off the medibay table. She opened her eyes a little, and tilted her head, glancing over the edge. It seemed a lot higher than normal.
Normally, she could just jump off and be done with it. Now, Nova was overwhelmed by the fear that she would pulverize every bone in her body, and hit the floor like some kind of soggy pancake.
Whatever. Dying would be better than this, whatever this was.
She rocked to the side, tipping her body forward and pulling herself toward the edge. Almost, almost. Just a few more inches —
"What are you doing?!"
Nova glanced up at the sound of striding footsteps, and Ratchet was suddenly right there.
"R-Ratchet?"
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
"Why are you getting out of bed?" the medic demanded, rescuing her before she slipped over the side. "I told you to rest."
"No," Nova mumbled, squirming as he placed her back on the slab again. "Where were you?"
Ratchet answered perhaps a little more irritably than he should have. He had a lot on his mind.
"Our scout and leader are busy fighting a horde of Insecticons, Arcee's gone AWOL, and I'm trying to pin down the location of one missing pain in the aft who left me stuck with his hyperactive human partner," he snapped. "You're stubborn insistence on getting out of bed isn't helping things."
Nova shivered underneath his gaze, turning away from him. Ratchet was silent for a moment.
"I'm … sorry, Nova," he sighed. "I'm just trying to get everyone home alive, is all."
Nova still trembled.
"Where's Optimus?" she inquired, barely speaking above a whisper.
Ratchet hesitated.
"He's out on a mission," he replied simply. "He'll be back soon."
"But—" she murmured, lapsing into another round of insensibility, "But I want Optimus…"
"Optimus is busy," Ratchet said quietly.
Nova groaned, and her eyes squeezed shut. The pain etched into her face made Ratchet's Spark ache.
"What's happening to me, Ratchet?"
Ratchet was silent for a moment.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Well," he sighed. "I can't be certain without more invasive tests, but I think your body is adjusting to some changes."
"What changes?"
"Well," the medic said again. "Did you ever feel this way when MECH started to inject you with larger doses of Energon?"
Nova trembled. "Uh-huh."
"I think that's happening again. Your Cybertronian half is emerging a little further, and at the same time … I think you're losing a little more of your humanity."
The half spark was silent for several minutes. Ratchet had begun to wonder if she had heard his words at all.
Then, Nova let out a soft moan, her chest heaving with sobs.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Something deep in her brain told her crying would only make her feel worse, but she didn't care. She felt awful, and she was going to cry about it.
In the middle of her stifled whimpering, Nova felt something soft and warm clothe the length of her body. She froze, sniffling, as strong metal hands tucked a blanket around her shoulders. It felt … warm, and heavy, almost like having a really big hug all over.
Her sobs gave way to quiet groans.
"What are you doing to me?"
"It's a blanket," Ratchet's voice soothed, tucking the cloth round her. "It's all right. Go back to sleep."
Relenting a little, Nova burrowed into the blanket, resting her helmet on the table as she sniffled. Ratchet began to fade out of focus as the half-spark drifted into limbo again. Soon, she was mostly asleep, shuddering every so often with a remaining sob.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Megatron surveyed the scene, and despite himself, he felt surprised. Starscream had thrown something new at him this time.
Surrounded by four Starscream lookalikes, Megatron wondered how this had happened to begin with. Where on earth was Soundwave? He could use a certain Communications Officer right about now. Come to think of it, why had a Vehicon notified him of Starscream's presence? That was most certainly Soundwave's job.
"Clones," he remarked, glancing over his shoulder at the Starscream who had first apprehended him. "Well played, Starscream — if you are even here among your underlings."
"Underlings?" Starscream Clone Number One spat indignantly.
Ah, yes. Touchy. Megatron grinned a little to himself. Starscream in any form was ridiculously easy to insult. That was part of what made the game so amusing.
"We are as one," Clones Two and Three corrected, all of them keeping their weapons raised. "Though many!"
Megatron put his fists on his hips, nailing the nearest Starscream with a low-browed look.
There was an easy way out of this. Starscream could be easily swayed by promises of power.
"Bring me Starscream's head on a stick," the warlord offered. "And I will reward you as my Second in Command — all of you."
There was a pause. Megatron's tactic was working. He could see the Starscreams looking at each other uncertainly, deliberating, thinking it over. They were tempted, just as Starscream would be, to get ahead in whatever way they could.
True, Megatron had no real intention of promoting them to anything more than molten slag, but they did not need to know that.
"No!" one of the Starscreams barked. "You're trying to trick us!"
"Am I?" Megatron asked, smiling a little.
Starscream Three glanced at his fellows. "Is he?"
"Accept my proposal, and we all win," Megatron said, sprinkling a little truth on top of his slag mountain cake for effect. "Otherwise, you will merely end up terminating each other to get the spoils."
He grinned again. "It is your nature, after all."
"Don't listen to him!" Starscream Two cried.
"Prepare to perish at my hand," Starscream Four growled.
"Our hands!" they chorused.
"Yes," Starscream One agreed, spurred on by new purpose. "Only our combined firepower will assure Megatron's destruction!"
"Take aim!" Starscream Three shouted.
Megatron gritted his teeth. Were they actually going to terminate him rather than cheat their way to the top? They were more stubborn than he had expected.
Then again, what had he expected? This was Starscream — multiple Starscreams. The collective stubbornness in this room was suffocating.
Megatron clenched his fists, and quietly prepared to beat the slag out of each and every one of them, but the assassination attempt was interrupted by a strange noise.
A sort of roaring buzzing began to permeate the room, causing the Starscreams to hesitate.
"Do you hear that?" Starscream One asked, tilting his head toward the ceiling.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
In the depths of the ship, crawling through the ventilation shafts, Bulkhead heard it too.
What kind of weird fraggery is goin' on up here?
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Outside, the sun was slowly obscured by an enormous, living cloud of Insecticons, which slowly branched off into several tendrils and began to engulf the warship, the buzzing of their wings increasing tenfold as they neared the Nemesis.
Their target: Megatron. Their mission: Kill on sight.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
On the bridge, facing Megatron, the Starscreams were becoming agitated. The noise was very loud, now. A sense of impending doom had settled on them all. But that could wait.
"Ignore!" Number Two shouted. "Fire on Three!"
"One!"
"Two—"
A sudden crash made the ship lurch, causing Megatron to stumble and all the Starscreams to fall to the ground.
A pity. The Seeker was never good at staying on his feet.
But the gladiator was.
The nearest clone rolled over, groaning. "What was that?"
He glanced up, only to meet the business end of Megatron's fusion cannon.
"The sound of the tables turning," Megatron replied.
The weapon erupted in a burst of violet energy, killing the clone did not stop there. One by one, two more of the Starscreams fell. The last Starscream gaped up in terror in the face of Megatron's wrath, realizing that this was probably the end of his new life.
Megatron trained his cannon toward the Seeker, and fired into his chest — not to kill, not to destroy; just to cripple. This wretched creature may not have been Starscream, but all the same, he had dared to defy Megatron, and he would be rewarded with a slow death.
The ship rumbled and creaked with the amount of firepower pummeling the Nemesis. As the Insecticon swarm came around for another strike, Megatron approached the Seeker, who was attempting to crawl away — to retreat. As he always did.
"Exterminating you was so gratifying the first three times," Megatron hissed in evil amusement, watching the clone claw at the floor. Starscream ducked, turning away from the certain doom that was about to be doled out to him — when another sudden crash shook the warship, enough to make Megatron almost lose his balance.
Seizing the opportunity to escape, Starscream hobbled out the door.
No matter. It probably was not the real Starscream anyway. Megatron let him go, and turned to the front of the bridge, turning on the vid screen to see what was happening out there. Starscream was of little consequence. The Insecticons surrounding his ship provided more immediate concerns.
"Airachnid," he realized, observing the bug-like brutes pummeling the ship's bow. "A busy day for assassins."
Soundwave would not have stood for this.
Where the frag was he?
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The last of the Insecticon guards lay smoking on the ground, nothing more than twisted lumps of wreckage, now. Optimus got to his feet and glanced at Bumblebee, who had broken the back of one of the Insecticons himself. There was someone missing.
Of course, she was missing.
"Arcee," Optimus commed, trying to get ahold of her.
No response. The commlink buzzed in his audio receptor.
"Ratchet," he tried again. "Have you had any contact with Arcee?"
"No, Optimus," the medic replied. "But I am getting a reading about a mile away from your position."
"What direction?" Optimus inquired.
"Down," said Ratchet. "I assume that means she ran into Airachnid again?"
Bumblebee beeped and urgently pointed to a string of tire tracks leading east.
"We will locate her," Optimus said into the commlink.
"Are either of you injured?" Ratchet inquired. "Do I need to prepare sickbay?"
Optimus looked doubtfully at the scout.
"Are you all right?" Optimus asked.
Bumblebee buzzed, giving him a thumbs-up.
"We are fine, Ratchet," Optimus reported. "But we are not aware of Arcee's conditi— augh!"
It hit him suddenly, forcefully, like a freight train. A sudden wave of fatigue, intense and aching, slammed into him, and for a minute, he could hardly breathe.
He fell to one knee. Alarmed, Bumblebee darted forward to help his leader, buzzing in concern.
"What is it?" Ratchet demanded. "What's going on? Your vitals just dropped."
Overwhelmed, Optimus closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together. He forced air into his vents and tried to figure out what was going on. Was he injured?
No. He did not feel any real pain. Just a horrible feeling of exhaustion, but it was everywhere. It ran deeper than his veins, almost made him lose consciousness — what was it?
He got to his feet shakily. Bumblebee was still beeping at him.
"I am fine," Optimus said, trying to keep his voice level. "We must locate Arcee."
"But why did you—"
"We will request a Groundbridge shortly, Ratchet."
"What— no! don't you dare hang up on me!"
Optimus hung up.
"Bumblebee, transform," he ordered. "Follow the tracks."
For a second, Bumblebee thought about asking Optimus what was going on, but his leader had a look in his eyes that the scout knew well.
It was best not to argue with Optimus when he looked like that.
Bumblebee transformed and sped off in the direction of Arcee's tracks. He hoped she was okay. The last time Arcee met up with Airachnid, she had almost died. In fact, she would never have survived had it not been for Starscream.
The irony of that rescue never let go of Bumblebee. Imagine — you're losing the battle with your archenemy, and then the most treacherous Decepticon in history picks that day to save you.
Probably just another one of Starscream's bargaining chips. If that Decepticon ever needed anything from Ratchet or Optimus again, Bumblebee would bet good Shanix that Starscream would bring up Arcee's rescue.
Well, Bumblebee thought, this time, we're going to rescue her ourselves.
That's what family was supposed to do.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Megatron walked slowly out onto the raging battlefield. Never had he seen such chaos on his own warship. The lasers of the Insecticons pummeled the metal all around him, blasting into Vehicons on his right and left. The valiant troopers who were making a stand were cut down like paper in the face of the Insecticon brutes, and the beasts had not even landed on the ship yet. There seemed to be nothing that could stop them.
Nothing, that is, except for himself. Megatron had already bested an Insecticon once before, and he could do it again. Megatron would not be losing this warship today to either of the two rogue Decepticons with delusions of grandeur.
He lifted his fusion cannon and blasted an Insecticon out of the sky. Not many dared to cross him and lived to tell the story. These brutes would certainly be no exception.
And once this was all sorted out, both Starscream and Airachnid would pay.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Arcee trod stealthily through the underground cavern, her gun at the ready. From the looks of things, the Insecticons had been dormant underground for a long while. Hundreds and hundreds of reflective pods, not all of them empty, lined the walls in an eerie array of metal and mesh.
Airachnid had probably discovered them after her run-in with Starscream, and, as was the way of the Decepticons, she had probably used them to her advantage in her fight against Megatron. Everybody wanted to kill Megatron lately.
Arcee didn't care. Megatron could slag himself for all the good it would do. Her fight was with Airachnid, and if killing her meant saving Megatron's life in the process, then fine. Arcee had a score to settle with that eight-bladed harpy, and nothing was going to stop her this time.
This time, only one of them was going to walk away.
Her eyes shifted, catching a sudden movement. One of the pods had reflected something moving on the wall behind her.
Airachnid. Waiting to shoot her in the back.
Fragging glitch.
Arcee's mouth twitched up in a snarl. Airachnid's lasers erupted from behind, but the two-wheeler was ready. Acting quickly, she dove behind a stasis pod and crouched against it, readying her weapons as lasers peppered the rocks around her.
She had to be fast.
Wait … wait for it …
Now!
The instant Airachnid halted in her barrage, Arcee stood up from behind the pod and brought that spider down with a storm of precise, rapid-fire shots.
With a cry, Airachnid fell from the wall and crashed to the stone belly of the cavern, groaning as Arcee advanced upon her. But, as she looked upon the Autobot, the spider's gaze was still filled with cruel spite, as if she genuinely enjoyed this.
"When you extinguish my Spark, make it hurt," Airachnid hissed, a pained grimace spreading under her glowing eyes. "You know I would extend that courtesy to you."
Arcee raised her guns away from Airachnid's face.
"I'm not like you," she said coldly.
Airachnid sneered. "Very well."
She lunged at Arcee. The blue femme leaped out of the way just in time, narrowly evading the spider's sharp claws and whipping out her arm blades. There had to be a better way to beat Airachnid. On the ground, she had a greater advantage than Arcee, if only because she had more limbs and more weapons at her disposal.
Arcee thought fast, glancing at an open and empty stasis pod behind Airachnid.
Maybe those extra limbs could be made to work against her.
Airachnid continued attacking the two-wheeler, slicing her spider legs through the air, and becoming more frustrated as each blow was deflected by Arcee's blades, thwarting her victory every time.
Airachnid growled. Why wouldn't she fall?!
Suddenly, Arcee spotted an opening in Airachnid's assault. The trap was set. Arcee knew this was the moment. She had to act now, or else Airachnid would get away, free to live another day, and she would let Tailgate down again.
She would not let Tailgate down again!
Arcee lunged forward, delivering a forceful set of kicks to Airachnid's torso. That drove the spider back, landing her almost within the stasis pad. Airachnid staggered into the circle, triggering the pod, and she gasped in terror as she realized what had happened. With a loud snikt, the pod clamped around the enraged femme, and one of her dismembered legs went spinning off into the dust, right in front of Arcee, who watched in silence as the pod activated.
This was it. This was the moment.
Airachnid struggled to free herself from the trap, but all in vain. That stasis pod was built to withstand the efforts of warrior-grade Insecticons.
With a hiss, the pod's stasis mechanisms kicked in, and Airachnid was instantly frozen, her final look of horror etched permanently onto her face.
Arcee deactivated her weapons.
"That was for Tailgate," she said, her hands clenching into fists.
As Arcee stared at the stasis pod, a needling thought wormed its way into her brain. She could kill Airachnid right now. All it would take was a well-placed shot right into that spider's head once the pod cracked open. She could watch her bleed out onto the rocks, making her suffer on this rustheap of a planet just as she had made Tailgate suffer.
But she seemed to hear Tailgate, as if in a distant memory, or a dream, saying, "Would I really want you to do that, 'Cee?"
No. He probably wouldn't. And neither would anyone else on her team.
Speaking of which…
"Ratchet, I need an assist," she said into the commlink. "I've dispatched Airachnid."
"In the permanent sense?"
"Not exactly. She's been contained and needs transport."
"Understood. Where are you?"
"I don't really know. I'll send you my coordinates," she replied, tapping in the code.
"Are you injured?" Ratchet demanded.
"I'm fine. But I'll need bigger hands if we're gonna get Airachnid through the bridge safely."
"Optimus and Bumblebee should be — Miko!" He cut himself off, addressing someone else. "Don't you dare!"
"Awwgh, but Doc — !"
"Leave my tools alone!"
"Problems, Ratchet?" Arcee asked, biting back a smile.
"No." She could practically hear the frown on his face. "When Optimus reaches you, he should be warned that I have a few choice words for him once he gets back to base."
"Have you made contact with Bulkhead?" Arcee asked.
There was a pause.
"Not yet," Ratchet replied finally. "His vitals are fine, but his comm isn't responding. I don't know where in Primus' name he's gotten off to."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Megatron ceased firing as an unholy shriek went up from several of the Insecticons. They descended in droves and landed in a circle around him, gathering as thick as trees on the landing pad of the Nemesis.
Megatron kept his guard up, but they weren't attacking. What kind of trickery was this?
Whatever the case, the gladiator was surrounded by enemies stacked fifty deep, and he knew that there would be no easy way out of this.
The Insecticon closest to him advanced forward. Megatron prepared to blast the horrid head from between the unsightly shoulders, but to his surprise, the Insecticon bowed to him, taking a knee on the dented metal of the ship.
The other Insecticons followed suit, kneeling before Megatron and saying in unison:
"Forgive us, one true lord and master."
The warlord looked around. More than two hundred Insecticons now surrounded him on the ship's surface. It would seem Airachnid was no longer in a position to control the army which now greeted him.
Megatron gestured around him with a sense of exasperated irony. "This day has certainly seen its share of thwarted intentions."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Bulkhead slammed open the hatch with his mace and dropped to the ground, looking around him.
Bout slagging time I got outta those vents, he thought to himself. Where'd I come out?
Huh. He was in the power core; the room where the ship was fueled and the one place that held everything together.
It was a rather magnificent sight. A central power conduit, glowing with bright blue fuel, branched out into an array of pipes and tubes that sent Energon to every part of the ship. Long, spindly arms dangling from the ceiling methodically fed new cubes into the core, keeping the Nemesis in the air.
Looking at it all, Bulkhead had a Miko of an idea.
He formed his mace, staring down at the power core system. "One way or another, I'm gettin' off this boat."
With a shout, Bulkhead launched himself from the edge of the platform and dove toward the glowing core, his mace outstretched, slamming himself full force into the one thing holding the warship aloft.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The warship lurched as an ominous rumble groaned out from below, and Megatron felt the Nemesis shudder beneath his feet. The Insecticons clustered around him were instantly jolted as the entire craft began to tip to one side, sending everything into greater disarray than before.
With a snarl, Megatron turned around and glowered back at the ship. "Now what?!"
Many inconvenient things seemed to be happening today, and at this point, the warlord was fed up with it.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
"Drink this," Ratchet directed, holding a tiny cup of water to Nova's mouth.
Trembling, the half-spark opened her eyes.
"Why?" she croaked, staring listlessly at the liquid.
"It's good for you," he replied, trying to coax her to open her mouth. "Your body's burning through a lot of energy, and it needs to stay hydrated."
"I don't want to."
"It's just water. Drink it. Optimus will be back soon, and you need the strength to talk to him."
Her face pale, Nova opened her eyes and took a sip, grasping the cup with weak hands.
"Ugh," she grimaced, pushing the cup away. "Not thirsty."
"Do you want to get better or not?" Ratchet asked, typing into the computer with his free hand.
Nova sighed a little and took another sip.
"More," Ratchet directed.
"Aw…"
"Drink all of it, Nova."
Nova obeyed, whether out of her lack of resolve or her unwillingness to provoke the medic any further. Ratchet didn't care which.
"Can't pinpoint his coordinates…" Ratchet began to mutter to himself as he typed. "…Bulkhead managed to drop off the face of the fragging earth…"
Then the commlink beeped, startling the half-spark.
"Ratchet, we're ready for that Groundbridge."
Ratchet began inputting Arcee's appropriate coordinates. "Is Optimus with you?"
"Yeah. Bee thinks something's wrong with him."
Ratchet pulled down the lever, a little too harshly. "Bumblebee may be right."
"Something the matter, Doc?"
"Several things today," he snapped. "How are you?"
Arcee sounded tired. "I'm fine. We'll see you in a minute."
"Yes, yes."
Ratchet shut off the comms. Nova made a little noise from his hand.
"Ratchet?"
"Hm?"
"Did she … kill Airachnid?"
Ratchet paused. The half-spark had been told about Arcee's rivalry with Airachnid, and of the lengths the two-wheeler was willing to go to bring her partner's murderer to justice. Recently, Arcee had discovered, through a rather unpleasant experience, that Starscream was responsible for the death of Cliffjumper.
In the weeks since then, the femme had not been doing well. She had spent more time than usual out on the cliff's edge, talking to Cliffjumper's shrine, and she walked around the base with a permanent frown behind her eyes. In this state, and given the opportunity to kill someone who had wronged her, Ratchet was not quite certain that the two-wheeler could contain her thirst for revenge.
"I don't think so, Nova," he said aloud. "But you don't need to worry about that right now."
"But you're worried."
Ignoring her, Ratchet punched in the last few numbers for the Groundbridge, and the green portal blossomed in the tunnel beside them.
He put Nova back down on the medibay slab and approached the couch, where Miko was flipping through TV channels.
"Stay away from Nova for now," he instructed.
"Is Bulkhead coming?" Miko asked, jumping up from the chair in excitement.
"No. The others are bringing Arcee back to base." Ratchet pointed a finger at her. "Now, I want you to be absolutely quiet, understand? I'm dealing with a lot today, and if Airachnid's alive and sees you walking around, I don't want to add a dead human to the mix."
"Airachnid's coming here?!" Miko asked. "Wow!"
"Not 'wow,'" Ratchet said sternly. "In fact, it's the opposite of wow."
"I'll get to see her nemesis again!" Miko said excitedly. "I can't wait to smack her stupid spider face!"
Ratchet stared at her for a second.
"You know what, Miko?" he said decisively. "I'm sending you home right now. It's a bad idea for you to be around today."
"No, please!" Miko begged. "Let me stay! I wanna watch!"
"Absolutely not. You are much too bored to make rational decisions." Ratchet turned to the computer and pulled down the lever. "Arcee, I'm going to have to hold off on the Groundbridge for a minute. I've got to send someone home first."
"Copy that."
"Awgh!" Miko growled. "You never let me do anything!"
"We can have this conversation once you're a mature adult," Ratchet said, punching in the coordinates to her host parents' house. "I will contact you when Bulkhead returns."
Miko grumbled and dragged her feet all the way down the stairs, and she grumbled and dragged her feet as Ratchet pushed her into the Groundbridge, and the medic was willing to bet that she was grumbling and dragging her feet out the other side, but he didn't really care at the moment.
He shut off the Groundbridge and, with a sigh, punched in Arcee's coordinates again.
"Gonna send me home, too?" Nova asked weakly from the couch.
"Funny," he said. "Go back to sleep."
"I'm … sorry."
The medic looked at her. "For what, Nova?"
"Causing so much trouble," she murmured. "You're not having a good day…"
He scoffed. "Don't apologize for being sick. I'm taking care of you. That's my job."
She coughed. "…Just 'cuz it's your job?"
Her voice was very quiet. Ratchet paused in his preparations.
"Yes, because it's my job," he said. "If you died on my watch, Optimus would never forgive me."
"Oh," Nova said.
Ratchet pulled down the lever for the Groundbridge again. It was about time something went right today.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Why was everything going wrong today?
Megatron stalked down the hall, heading for the navigational room, just beside the bridge. Well, he tried to stalk; it was more like stumbled. It was hard to keep his balance with the ship rocking this way and that, careening inexorably toward the ground. The Insecticons, like panicked rats, had muscled their way inside the ship at the first sign of trouble, terrifying the first Vehicons they saw and making Megatron's reentry into the ship a huge slagging ordeal. A sudden increase in troops — burly, stubborn, dimwitted troops — came with scores of problems he did not want to deal with right now.
Soundwave would not have stood for this.
He stabbed the button next to the nav bay door, bracing himself against the frame, and it slid open (at least the doors were working right). The two poor Vehicons inside — both grounders — struggled to stay at their posts, swaying with the ship. One of them was curled over his computer console, either terribly afraid or terribly airsick.
"My liege, our power core has been compromised," the other Vehicon informed him, making a brave effort to stand straight.
That was bad. Direct damage to the power core meant that no matter how much they tried to stabilize the engines, it was already too late. The ship was lost.
"Prepare for landing," Megatron ordered, his voice remarkably calm. Soundwave would be so proud of him. He had not killed anyone today.
Well, actually, he had killed people today, but they had all deserved it.
And if he ever laid eyes on Starscream again — which was almost absolutely certain to happen, since the mech refused to die — he would rip the little traitor's Spark from his chassis.
"Attention, all crew members," a Vehicon announced over the intercom. "This is not a drill. Man your emergency stations. Lock down munitions and fuel reserves, and prepare for immediate landing."
Well, at least he had been able to shoot Starscream today. More than once! That had been great fun.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The entire ship was out of control. Bulkhead staggered through the halls, trying to avoid Vehicons, and stumbled toward the sight of broad daylight. He was on the landing pad. How he was going to get off without dying or being spotted, he had no idea.
A familiar, screeching voice shrieked out from behind him.
"Out of my way!"
Starscream?
Bulkhead watched, gaping, as the same Seeker he had just killed darted out in front of him, transformed, and shot off into the sky.
How the frag…?
But, as crazy and messed up as that was, Bulkhead knew he had bigger problems — like getting off this ship alive without a flight-based alt mode.
I could always jump, he thought to himself, looking over the edge. The dark, dust-colored clouds stretched above him forever and ever, a wide, rolling field of black and brown. The ground glared back at him pointedly, coming closer much faster than he would like. A huge column of smoke billowed out the wrong end of the Nemesis, leaving a dark trail in the sky that was probably impressive from a distance.
Any other time, Bulkhead would be proud of how he had slagged the warship all by himself, but right now, he was kind of worried he may have made the wrong decision.
I hope Jackie takes care of Miko, he thought to himself.
The ship rocked with another internal explosion, pitching Bulkhead head over heels. The wind whistled around him as he staggered forward and approached the edge. The ground was very close, now. The jagged metal around him shrieked in the wind, subjected to a kind of speed it had not felt in a long while. The ground raced along underneath the bowels of the ship, rushing ever closer.
Bulkhead slammed his fists into the metal in the floor of the landing pad, and braced himself. Alarms blared. Wind screeched. The Nemesis rumbled. They were about to hit —
The jarring suddenness of the impact nearly launched Bulkhead off of the Nemesis. How he managed the strength to hang on, he never understood.
Metal screeched wildly.
The smell of coolant and fuel and thick smoke hit him like a wave. Flurries of rock and earth and stone flew up in sheets as the Nemesis was driven into the soft earth of the organic planet.
Bulkhead was knocked into the surface of the ship several times, the sounds of his own tumbling metal drowned out by the groaning of the ship as it rushed and rushed, and finally skidded to a stop, teetering precariously over the edge of an enormous cliff.
The silence after the crash was piercing; overwhelming. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, except for one rather relieved Wrecker.
Bulkhead had kept his wits about him, and once he was sure he still had all his limbs, he leaped over the edge of the ship and tumbled into alt-mode, driving down one of the formerly-intimidating prongs adorning the front and racing off the Nemesis, heading directly back where he thought home was. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, making the shaken mech laugh a little, relieved at the fact he was most definitely still alive.
Well, that certainly ain't the first crash I've survived. I can't wait to tell Miko!
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
"Stasis," Ratchet muttered, leaning on the edge of the Insecticon pod and glaring at the femme inside. "She deserves worse."
"I intended worse," Arcee said angrily. "More times than you know."
Optimus approached them from behind.
"You are stronger for the choice you made," he said to Arcee, quietly affirming her decision. She had had a hard enough time lately without being criticized for this latest confrontation with her past.
Sudden honking blared from the entrance tunnel, heralding the rather speedy arrival of Bulkhead, who transformed and staggered into the base with an excited grin on his face.
"Guys, you are not gonna believe the day I had!" he announced, in the manner of someone who has a story to tell that's ready to burst out of them.
But he fell silent when he caught sight of the stasis pod, and who was inside, and the expressions of the three Autobots clustered around it — weary Autobots, ready for the next awful thing this day was going to throw at them.
"Oh, you too, huh?" he said sympathetically, looking around at all of them.
"Where were you?" Ratchet asked. "I've been trying to locate your signal all day."
"That's the crazy thing; I got stuck on the Con's warship!" Bulkhead replied, launching into his story. "There was this spike of energy I was gonna investigate, but then I found out it was a mining haul. I fell and hit my head, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in the storage room—" he cut himself off, waving his arm. "Where're the kids? Where's Miko? I gotta tell her."
"The other children are busy, and I sent Miko home ten minutes ago," Ratchet said, putting his hands on his hips. "Did you say you hit your head? I'll have to do a scan; sit down."
"I'm fine, Doc," Bulkhead waved him off. "Where's Bee?"
"Looking after our other little patient," Ratchet replied. "Which reminds me — Optimus, I want you to go sit back there and wait for me until I come in to give you a full inspection. Send Bumblebee out for a diagnostic."
"Ratchet—"
"Now."
With a nod, Optimus turned and made his way back to the medical bay, while Ratchet sat Bulkhead and Arcee down for diagnostics.
"Just as I thought," he muttered, running the scanner over Bulkhead. "You've gone and gotten yourself a concussion. And where did these gashes come from?"
"That's a crazy story," Bulkhead said excitedly. "You'll never guess who I found sneaking around on board the warship."
"No, I can probably guess," Arcee said, peering sideways at the wounds.
"It was Starscream," he said. "I think he was trying to off Megatron or something—"
"So what else is new?" asked the medic.
Arcee was clenching her fists on her legs.
"No, no, that isn't the crazy part," Bulkhead continued. "After I killed him, he came back again and—"
"You killed Starscream?!" Arcee demanded, shocked.
"Well, no… not really," replied the Wrecker. "Lemme tell the story, you guys!"
"You can talk while I finish repairing you," Ratchet said.
"How was your day, anyhow?" Bulkhead asked, noticing the frown etched into the medic's face.
"Tough," Ratchet replied. "It was a tough day to get through, Bulkhead, and it's not over yet."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Bumblebee looked up as Optimus walked into the medibay. He buzzed a greeting, his door-wings bobbing cheerily in response to his leader's arrival.
Optimus seemed … a little off. In fact, he had been acting strange all day, ever since they had been deployed on the mission. Maybe, now that he was back at the base, back with Nova, he would feel better.
Bee buzzed an inquiry. "You okay?"
Optimus sat down, a little too clumsily, and sighed.
"I am fine," he said. "Ratchet asked to see you, Bumblebee. He needs to clear you for repairs."
Groaning a little, Bumblebee reluctantly got to his feet and shuffled out of the medibay. Getting cleared by Ratchet was everyone's least favorite part of the day, just because it took so long, and usually the Fenderbender was involved. But, like many unpleasant things in life, it had to be done — and sooner was better than later.
The scout took a moment to look back at Optimus. He was sitting by the medical bed, looking steadily at the little red-faced figure bundled in a blanket atop it. Bumblebee was willing to bet that whatever was bothering the Prime had something to do with Nova.
"You sure you're okay?"
Optimus looked up suddenly, as though roused from slumber.
"Yes. Thank you for your concern," he said, giving the scout a small smile.
With a shrug, Bumblebee turned and left. Ratchet didn't exercise much patience when diagnostics were involved.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Starscream heard the distant sound of his own jet engines long before the Seeker outside came into view. He stood inside the Harbinger, his hands folded behind his back, glowering quietly at the wall.
He was thoroughly, properly, utterly ticked off.
Binary bonding. Officially the last thing Starscream wanted to partake in again. Ever since he had sent out the clones to terminate Megatron, he had felt them die — excruciatingly — no less than three times over, twice with a fusion cannon — but if Starscream had to guess, that first death was brought about by blunt force trauma — and he was almost certain their mission had failed spectacularly. Here he was, grounded, practically helpless, unable to taste the clouds or soar in the heavens on his own, forced to bear the pain of those worthless shells. He had given up his precious fuel and Energon to give them life, and in return, he had been paying for their mistakes the entire day.
Starscream's rising ire brought a crooked scowl to his face. If you wanted something done right, well, apparently you had to do it yourself.
Luckily, he had had all day to plot revenge. He had had more than enough time to think about exactly what he was going to do to those clones if they ever showed their faces again.
Although right now it sounded like there was only one left.
Fine. He was almost happy that the others had been terminated by Megatron — that they had met a humiliating, dishonorable death at the hands of his hated enemy. It was a fitting return for their incompetence.
He heard the antiquated door slide open behind him, but Starscream, in true Starscream fashion, kept his back turned and his hands folded behind him.
Was turning your back on an enemy dangerous?
Only if you were afraid that your opponent could win; and at that moment, Starscream was much too angry to be afraid of anything. The fact that this was probably the same exact stance and manner in which his clone had confronted Megatron only made the irony even sweeter.
"Lord Starscream," the clone began, his footsteps clanking softly as he approached him from behind. "Your most loyal servant has returned."
Starscream could practically smell the treachery radiating off of his 'most loyal servant.' Did that worthless copy seriously take him for such a colossal fool?
"But I regret to inform you that our collective mission has failed," the clone continued, with just the right amount of remorse in his voice. The clone was an excellent liar. Certainly one of the best.
But not the best.
Starscream was the best, and he knew what was about to happen in this game. He had invented it, for Primus' sake.
"Hm, yes. I got that sense," he said aloud. He could tell the clone was raising his arm, bringing his missile to bear on his creator, readying himself to shoot him in the back.
"Something to do with — a throbbing ache in my side!"
Starscream spun around before the clone could fire, and launched a missile directly into that pretender's chest. The rocket exploded on contact with the living metal, bursting in a thunderous plume of sparks and smoke.
And it hurt. A lot.
But again, Starscream was far too angry to let that stop him. He advanced towards the downed Seeker, despite the crippling pain shooting through his chest, and placed a foot on its chassis, preventing the clone from rising.
Oh, that pathetic replica would never be rising again. There was no doubt about that.
The clone looked up at him through astonished, flickering eyes. It struggled to speak.
"You … knew I would attempt to terminate you?" it asked, choking out a final question.
Starscream could not help the grunt of pain that escaped his vocalizer, or the reflexive way he clutched at his throbbing chassis, but nevertheless, he stood imperiously over this vile copy which had dared to defy him.
"I feel your pain," Starscream hissed, leveling his final missile directly at the clone's Spark chamber. "Really, I do."
Without a moment's hesitation, he fired the fatal shot. The world went black, the pain knocking his optics offline for a horrible moment as he screamed in agony.
"AUGH! Scrap, that hurt!"
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
"All right, Optimus," Ratchet said, leaning against the nearest wall and looking the Prime in the eye. "How are you holding up?"
"I am fine, old friend."
"Tell me the truth, or I will bring out the wrench," Ratchet said in a clipped voice. "I don't have time for your self-denial today."
Optimus was silent for a moment.
"I feel … fatigued," he admitted eventually. "I am not certain why."
Ratchet unfolded his arms. "I'll tell you why."
He walked over to the table, and pulled up a screen diagram of the half-spark's body. Along the spine of the figure were a myriad of angry red lines, outlining inflamed areas.
"I've been running diagnostics on her all day, and I think I've figured out the problem," Ratchet said, typing in a few figures.
"Will she recover?" Optimus asked. "Do we need to call June?"
"I am not calling June," Ratchet said sharply. "Earlier, Nova was so delirious that she almost killed Miko. If she wakes up, alone, in a human hospital, she might cause an international crisis in her attempt to escape."
Optimus hesitated. "Is it fatal?"
"No, no, I don't think so." Ratchet replied. "To put it simply; I think Nova is going through growing pains."
"Growing pains?"
"Yes. Her body is … how can I say this?" Ratchet thought for a moment. "Her body is still unused to living in a hybrid state. Part of her still treats Energon as a foreign substance, and tries to expel it. Her organic half is constantly fighting with her stronger half, both parts of her trying to win out. Every once in a while, her Cybertronian side wins out, and she loses a little more control of the Cybermatter armor in her back."
He pointed to the red areas on the diagram. "It will probably only get harder for her to remove her armor from now on."
Optimus looked down at the half-spark. "Is there any cure?"
"No. We can only help her feel comfortable until it passes." Ratchet paused for a moment. "Our half-spark is … still young. Becoming a cyborg is not easy by any means. It takes time, and MECH didn't give her any."
Optimus bowed his head a little, staring at his hands. "But why can I still feel her pain?"
"That's because of something else I found out today," Ratchet said, turning from his computer to look at the Prime. "She's binary bonded to you, Optimus."
Optimus' eyes went wide.
"What?"
"I was blind not to see it before," Ratchet continued, putting his hands on his hips. "Mutual pain sensations; intense reactions to trauma; excessive nightmares? All signs of a shared connection. The fact that Nova was exposed to the energy of the Matrix intensifies things for both of you. And, as you suspected, that allowed her to sense Unicron's uprising before it happened."
"But … she is a human," Optimus said, his voice hollow. "How is that possible?"
"It isn't," replied the medic. "Or it shouldn't be. But Nova isn't really human anymore. When she came into contact with the Matrix, she became partly composed of your essence, and you of hers. Now, a part of her Spark has been fused to your own. Not in the same way Conjunx Endurae form bonds," he clarified. "That would be much more — intensive, and intimate. The one you share is a unique, symbiotic relationship, of a quieter nature. I believe it is similar to the bonds once shared between Soundwave and his cassettes."
After he had finished, a silence descended on the medibay. The quiet chatter of the other Autobots permeated the room from outside, but Optimus said nothing, staring fixedly at the half-spark.
"What does that mean, Ratchet?" he asked finally, collecting himself.
"It means that you two have been shuffling pain back and forth, to try and keep the other from harm. If one of you is severely injured, well…" he shrugged. "It might be too much for the other to bear."
"Is there any way to stop this, old friend?"
"Well, I can't sever the bond," Ratchet responded. "That would be damaging for both of you. But, there may be a way I can dull it."
Optimus looked up at him, his round eyes following the medic's movements as he began to bustle around the medibay.
"Based on your specific CNA signatures and the Matrix's frequency, I think I can make a neural inhibitor to help you two 'hide' the bond from one another," he said. "By rerouting the signals sent between your Sparks, all but the most extraordinary pain will be diffused into your neural net, alerting you instead of debilitating you. A less severe alarm system, if you will."
Optimus was silent for a minute, glancing down at the half-spark.
"What must I do?" he asked finally.
"You don't have to do anything," Ratchet responded. "I want you to sit with her while I prepare the inhibitor."
He looked at Nova, and suddenly realized how tired he was. He also realized it probably wasn't his own exhaustion.
"Very well," he said, leaning back a little as he looked at the girl. This day had made him realize, not for the first time, how it would feel to lose her, and he never wanted it to happen again. He would be there to watch over her when she was in trouble, he would be there to greet her when she woke up, and he would be there to protect her — always — as long as he lived.
But he was very tired.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Ratchet came back a few minutes later to the sight of a girl, curled up on the medibay table under a warm blanket, and her nearby guardian, his arms folded and his head bowed in slumber. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, his normally upright posture was slackened by fatigue. His face, normally held in a rigid frame of stoic calm, was softer now.
At that moment, Optimus looked less like the leader of the Autobots and much more like Orion Pax.
Ratchet didn't see that often anymore.
With a quiet snort, the medic gathered up his supplies, turned off the lights, and left the medibay, leaving them to rest while he continued his work elsewhere.
Anybody who woke them up would most certainly be wrenched.