United 3, Red Energon Mishaps

Brawl stopped in the middle of the corridor. Swindle kept walking for several seconds before he noticed that Brawl was no longer following him.

"What's the matter, Brawl? Busted a servo? We're on a schedule here. The longer we delay, the less of Miko there's going to be left over," Swindle said.

"Had an idea. You go on." Brawl turned to walk in the opposite direction.

"Leaving me to face Vortex alone? Thanks a lot."

Brawl paused and glanced back. "You're just picking up a cube. What do you need me there for?"

Swindle waved dismissively. "I don't. Off you go. See you around."

"Yeah."

Brawl transformed and drove down a different path, following the navigation aide on his internal displays. Starscream's comm beacon was still located inside his lab, and the lab door was closed. The sliding mechanisms were jammed shut, and the access panel looked fried. Brawl transformed in front of the door and opened a private comm line.

"Starscream, come out. Got a question for you."

"This is an automated response. Starscream is busy with important work and cannot answer the comm right now. Leave a message after the beep," Starscream replied coolly. "BWEEEEEEEEP—"

Noise shrieked through Brawl's comm unit. He muted his receivers, swearing colorfully. When Starscream next set foot outside that lab, Brawl would—he'd—

No. Tearing off Starscream's head would be counterproductive.

Fetching Starscream was meant to resolve the ongoing dispute in Onslaught's office. As civilized mechs, Onslaught and Blast Off both preferred to settle differences with their words, not their fists. In Brawl's humble opinion, fists solved problems a whole lot quicker than words in most situations, but neither of his teammates were likely to appreciate that advice. Nor were they likely to settle this matter without external intervention. At the very least, Starscream's knowledge about space travel ought to resolve any map-related ambiguities.

Brawl pounded on the lab door a couple of times. The reinforced metal was sturdy enough that his fist bounced off without leaving a dent. Brawl dragged his hand across a narrow gap between the door segments. His fingers were too large to get a grip on the separate plates.

This was a setback.

Starscream could end the argument, but Starscream was currently hiding in his lab. Brawl needed to get Starscream out of the lab. The locked door was in his way. Easy solution: shoot it—except for the small problem of Starscream's proximity to the door. At a scant ten meters beyond the threshold, Starscream was solidly within the blast radius of one of Brawl's regular shells.

Brawl contemplated the door for a few seconds, then transformed and drove away.

Ten minutes later, Brawl returned from his weapons locker with a portable cutting torch. He had been using this torch to cut scrap metal into suitable shapes earlier, and it burned hot enough to make short work of most alloys. The door to Starscream's lab was no exception. Brawl switched on the torch and applied it to the door, reveling in the bubble and hiss of melting metal as a glowing line appeared across the surface. The torch cut through slowly but steadily. Brawl made a horizontal cut level with the top of his head, shifted his grip on the torch, and began a vertical slice toward the floor.

Partway through the vertical cut, Swindle came along with a cubeful of extremely subdued looking human. Swindle watched as Brawl drew the torch across the surface of the door, moving at precisely the right speed to pierce through the door without melting anything that lay beyond it. Swindle shifted from foot to foot. His thoughtful gaze shifted between the cube in his hands and Brawl.

"Hey, Brawl. Mind watching Miko for a bit?" Swindle finally asked.

"What? No. Remember what happened last time? No way am I watching her again. I'm busy."

"Great. I owe you one," Swindle said, already bending to place the cube next to Brawl's foot. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Wait just a—Swindle!"

Swindle was a pair of tail lights quickly zooming away down the corridor, already beyond shouting range. Brawl rumbled unhappily, glancing down at the cube by his foot. Miko had curled up in the furthest corner, nibbling on some sort of organic blob. Fuel? Swindle had put several containers of similarly textured fuel blobs inside the cube to keep Miko company. Even surrounded by these new items, her curled up limbs and hunched shoulders looked rather pitiful. All of the fight seemed to have drained from her frame.

"Guess you're here to stay," Brawl told her as softly as he could manage. Miko flinched and nearly dropped the fuel, looking up at him with enormous eyes.

Comforting scrap was better said by someone who looked harmless and trustworthy. Someone like Swindle. Giving up on that, Brawl carefully moved the cube out of stepping range and returned to his work.

After making three deep cuts in the door, one horizontal and two vertical, Brawl paused to let the freshly melted metal solidify. The cut edges soon faded from glowing orange to a gray cool enough to touch. Brawl dug his fingers into the new gaps and heaved. Half of the door peeled away, revealing a haphazard stack of tables, shelves, and crates piled up just beyond. One of the crates tipped toward Brawl. He dropped the severed part of the door with a thunderous clatter and barely caught the crate before it flattened Miko's cube.

Somewhere behind the mess, Starscream squawked. There was a shuffling noise, and then another crate near Brawl's shoulder level slid itself out of the way. Starscream's head appeared in the gap, fury written on his faceplates.

"What do you think you're doing, you clumsy oaf? This is a private laboratory. Go away. Get! Shoo!" Behind Starscream's head, silver wings twitched with every word.

Brawl crouched down to peer through the gap. "Onslaught needs you up top."

"Does he now? Well, that doesn't justify destroying my door," Starscream retorted. The mention of Onslaught seemed to give him pause, though, and his wings perked up in interest. "What does Onslaught want?"

"Something about space maps."

Starscream smirked. "Space maps? Is Onslaught stumped by a simple star chart? This I must witness."

Starscream's head and wings vanished from view. Something heavy screeched as he dragged it across the floor. A large shelf on top of the pile tipped sideways, teetering on one corner for a long moment before it crashed down somewhere out of sight. Brawl wondered if he should lend a hand, but Starscream popped up again a moment later, still alive and uninjured.

The gap in the barricade had grown slightly larger after the removal of the shelf. Starscream tested the movement of the other piled-up furnishings with a hand and critical optic. When they remained firmly stuck in place, he scowled through the gap at Brawl.

Starscream took a few steps back, crouched, and then leapt at the gap. His claws hooked around the cut outer edges of the door. His head emerged from the hole, followed by a pair of folded down wings that immediately spread to their fullest once there was adequate space. With a great deal of wriggling and squirming, and no small amount of displeased grumbling, Starscream managed to drag himself out through the open slot.

Brawl picked up Miko's cube and stepped out of the way as Starscream tumbled through the gap. He dropped to the ground in a tangle of silver limbs and streamlined angles. Once he regained his footing, he brushed dust off his frame with an air of great dignity. Metal shavings dropped to the floor where his plating had caught on the softer alloys of the barricade components. He was unharmed, though his paint sported a new set of cosmetic scratches.

"This never happened," Starscream said when he was done.

"This, what?" Brawl echoed, voice flat and somewhat puzzled. If Starscream meant the act of crawling through the barricade, well, the scratches across his paint spoke louder than Brawl ever could.

"Exactly."

Starscream inspected the cut marks on the outside of the door, running his claws over the melted edges. He grimaced at the state of the folding mechanisms. The heat of the torch had fused together the interlocking panels of the door. Without complete replacement of the cut-away section, this door would probably never open in the intended manner again.

"Well then." Starscream tore his gaze away from the door with visible effort. "Let's find out how Onslaught fares."

They went toward Onslaught's office. Brawl carried the cube with a surprisingly quiet Miko inside, curled up and watching Starscream's back with a complicated expression on her small face. Starscream strutted down the corridor several steps ahead of them, not once looking back.

Three corridors and two levels later, they found Onslaught and Blast Off walking in the opposite direction. Those two were still discussing stellar coordinates in exceedingly calm, clipped tones. Blast Off carried an active holoprojector, and a holographic cloud of stars hovered over his arm. Due to the limited space available when carrying the projector, large swaths of the hologram vanished where it met Blast Off's arm, shoulder, and torso plating.

Onslaught noticed the others first. "Starscream. Out and about, I see. How unexpected."

Starscream's plating flared out self-importantly. "I could hardly deprive you of my intellect when it is so desperately needed. Brawl mentioned that you found the Harbinger starcharts. As you've no doubt noticed, these are considerably better organized than whatever outdated system you remember from back on Cybertron. Of course, I would be happy to clarify any concepts you find confusing. Let's take this someplace more civilized."

They returned to Starscream's lab—or rather, the corridor outside Starscream's lab. The severed door and fallen crate were still lying on the floor next to the barricaded entrance. Onslaught's gaze swept over the melted edges and the deactivated cutting torch set to the side.

"Your work, I presume?" Onslaught asked.

Brawl nodded. "Yes, sir. The door is. Had to get Starscream out somehow."

"Well, now we need to get in," Starscream pointed out. He waved impatiently at the barricade. "Brawl, Blast Off, you two should be good at heavy lifting. Make yourself useful and clean that up. Onslaught, you had a question about the charts?"

Blast Off turned and loomed over Starscream. With his considerable height, Blast Off was very good at looming. Much better than he was at swallowing his pride and taking orders. While Brawl dutifully set aside Miko's cube and began to rearrange the piled-up furniture to clear a walkway through the lab entrance, Blast Off explained the situation to Starscream.

"Cybertron is currently located here." Blast Off pointed at one sector of space in the holographic map, and the map obligingly zoomed in. "Onslaught disputed this fact because quasilinear extrapolation from the Harbinger database coordinates wrongly places Cybertron here, if one fails to account for gravitational lensing from the passage of the Nidar singularity." He indicated another point a few centimeters away from the first, and the map scrolled over to center that point. A large dark blob appeared in the furthest corner of the projection. "We would… value... your input on this matter, Starscream."

Progress at last. With Starscream involved, the dispute would surely be resolved soon. Brawl's job was done here. He tuned out the conversation and focused on removing obstacles.

Under Brawl's diligent efforts, the barricade untangled into components: shelves, crates, chairs, a table, protoform containment pods, unidentifiable lab equipment, several pieces of broken circuitry that had probably once been a computer, and one functional computer console. Brawl handled this console more carefully than the rest of the objects, merely sliding it away from the entrance to open a path. As Brawl moved the console, various images scrolled across the screen: cartoon depictions of humans, a photo of a large red crystal, a dancing cat animation. Nothing relevant. Starscream had clearly been wasting his time on entertainment before Brawl extracted him from the lab.

Once the space was relatively clear, Brawl hauled a sturdy table some distance from the ruined door, placing three chairs around it. Starscream claimed the head of the table, while Onslaught and Blast Off sat to either side. Blast Off put the holoprojector in the center of the table. The cloud of stars resolved into the glittering expanse of one galactic spiral arm. Starscream leaned in close to inspect the full map for several long minutes, optics dimming in concentration as he muttered unintelligibly.

While the others focused on the map, Brawl brought in Miko's cube and placed it in an unobtrusive shelf. Miko remained curled up in the corner, but her face had a slightly healthier color than before, and her wet little eyes were no longer quite so wet. Brawl counted this as progress. The organic fuel Swindle left for her must have worked. Brawl reached into subspace, found the polishing cloth that Miko had used as a blanket before escaping, and dropped it into the cube. Miko looked at him for a long moment. She slowly pulled the cloth around her shoulders as before.

"Blast Off has it right," Starscream announced, jerking Brawl's attention back to the center of the room.

The map was now zoomed in on a region of empty space. Immense satisfaction radiated from Blast Off. Onslaught straightened fractionally in the way that signified mild annoyance, but he accepted the correction with a mild nod.

"Well calculated, Blast Off," Onslaught said. Blast Off's exoplating fluffed up to rival Starscream's own.

"A trivial computation. Anyone with a modicum of spatial awareness could have done it," Blast Off demurred.

To his credit, Onslaught pressed on without pause. "With Cybertron located in this sector, we shall need approximately twenty eight metric kilotons of flight-grade energon to arrive there within the century."

Starscream grimaced. Blast Off developed a sudden interest in the scuffed surface of the table. Brawl quickly reviewed the last few minutes of conversation, searching for what he had missed. If Cybertron was in their future, then big plans were surely afoot.

Onslaught's head tilted, visor dimming slightly as he placed a comm call. After a brief silence as he spoke on internal comms, he turned. "Starscream, another task requires your attention. Swindle is en route with a sample of organic jet fuel. Can you refine it into energon?"

"Jet fuel? The sort that humans put in their lifeless airplanes? It's—hmm." Starscream's expression twisted from outright denial to a more thoughtful neutrality. His claws tapped against the table. "Unconventional, to be sure, with all the carbon byproducts—but with sufficient time and all the tech aboard this ship, building a modified energon condenser for organic fuels shouldn't be impossible. Perhaps if I..."

Starscream continued muttering, but his voice trailed off until his speculations were too quiet for Brawl to detect.

The holoprojector was still active, showing a glowing swarm of miniature solar systems that meant nothing to Brawl. He brought a fourth chair over to the table and sat for a better view. The map was just as mysterious up close as it had looked from afar. Brawl had no frame of reference, no way of orienting himself amid the vastness of the galaxy. All he knew was that Cybertron floated somewhere out there, a wandering planet with no star to call its own. He poked at the map, deriving amusement from the way the graphical interface responded to his hand by highlighting the stars and planets closest to him.

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Blast Off began to manipulate the map controls, zooming in to inspect individual star systems or shrinking the image until the broad, sweeping curve of the galaxy was visible. He toggled between various locations, moving in some indiscernible pattern. Brawl watched him for a time before growing bored and turning away. Starscream still muttered to himself at subsonic volumes, optics dim and attention turned inward. Onslaught was doing something much more interesting.

Pieces of broken computer console from the barricade were now spread out on the table in front of Onslaught. He inspected one large piece as though it held the secrets of the universe within the twisted metal and fried circuitry. Brawl vaguely recognized the impression of his own fist amid the dents in the outer casing. These broken computer parts must have been from the same console that Brawl had smashed when the Combaticons first reactivated in this lab. Onslaught prodded at a crushed uplink connector with a pair of tweezers, painstakingly bending the small pins back into the correct arrangement.

Swindle soon arrived with a detachable trailer piled full of fuel canisters. The hole in the door made him do a double-take, but he quickly shook off the surprise and entered, aglow with his usual joviality.

"Long time no see, Starscream! Glad you've finally opened your doors to the world—er, metaphorically, that is. One delivery of jet fuel as ordered. It is drinkable straight from the drum. Still, better for the old intake filters when fuel is refined into energon, you know? Ah, what am I saying? Of course you know that." Swindle unloaded the fuel drums onto the table, stacking them up in the scant space left unoccupied by Onslaught's computer repairs or Blast Off's holoprojector. "Anyway, we're all wondering the same thing here: can you refine it?"

To Swindle, Starscream showed none of the contemplative uncertainty from before. He stood tall, and his wings flared out in absolute confidence. "I certainly can. You're looking at the foremost energon production expert on this side of the galaxy."

A surprising amount of useful equipment had been hidden away within the crates and shelving units that Starscream had shoved into the barricade. Likewise, Starscream had a surprisingly accurate knowledge of where to find this equipment and what it did—or so Brawl gathered from watching Starscream bustle around the lab in search of supplies for the new energon condenser.

The computer console beeped faintly in the background. Brawl glanced over, but it was just showing the same red crystal as before. Nobody else in the room seemed to have noticed the beeping. Starscream was still busy constructing an energon condenser while Swindle observed intently, no doubt committing the entire procedure to core memory for future reference. Onslaught had cleaned up the damage on two pieces of broken computer and was now trying to splice two bundles of frayed wires together. Blast Off had cloned the holographic map and rotated the second projection, creating ghostly trails of light between the original and new locations of each star system and nebula.

Everyone was doing useful tasks. Brawl had a sudden urge to do something useful as well, but his workshop was on the other side of the ship, and he rather liked being in the same room as everyone else. Maybe he could contribute to the work here. He scooted his chair closer to Onslaught.

"Anything I can help with, sir?"

"Yes." Onslaught carefully pushed aside a bundle of wires on the largest circuit board, using his tweezers to grasp a rectangular box slightly smaller than his thumb. One end of the rectangle was cracked and blackened. "This is a data drive. The secondary and tertiary drives are missing, displaced when the console broke apart. Without them, it will be difficult to recover the corrupted memory from this damaged drive. Search the lab for those data drives."

Brawl went off to search. After some digging, he found one intact data drive wedged in a gap in the structural supports around the base of the broken console. It must have fallen there when the top half of the console was smashed. He peeled up the edges of the neighboring floor panel and discovered half of a second drive. That one looked broken beyond repair, but Onslaught took it anyway. Brawl stomped on the floor panels he had pried up, returning them to some semblance of flatness.

Now Brawl had nothing to do again. As much as he liked hands-on work, the devices Onslaught or Starscream were constructing included too many fiddly, delicate components for his tastes. Weapons were built to take heavy damage and keep on functioning. Computers and energon condensers were not.

On the shelf, Miko had shuffled closer to the front of the cube, intently watching the mechs seated around the table. By the direction of her gaze, she seemed particularly fascinated by Blast Off's holographic map. Brawl glanced at that map, but it still showed the same stars as before, plus a few wiggly red lines where Blast Off was plotting out potential routes between two star systems. There was nothing Brawl could help with in that regard. Anyway, Miko was unlikely to escape again while stuck inside that cube with Onslaught, Blast Off, Swindle, and Starscream all in the same room. Brawl's business here was done.

Brawl left the lab and returned to the storage room that he had repurposed as a workshop.

The multi-barrel plasma cannon he had been building before Miko's escape was near completion. It just needed a trigger mechanism, a subspace-locked ammunition feed, and a practical firing test. Brawl repurposed the trigger and ammo feeds from a smaller plasma rifle, seating these in place on the new cannon with rivets or minor welds where appropriate. As a final step, he loaded in the supercharged power pack that he had rigged together from eighteen ordinary energy cells.

When finished, the cannon was almost half the height of Brawl himself, and it weighed about as much as an object of that size and general shape ought to weigh. He carried it out into the corridor, targeted a rather useless looking patch of wall about fifty meters away, and held the trigger for exactly one second.

Eight cannon barrels spun in a blur, launching a hundred compact plasma bolts. The wall liquefied under the assault, spraying molten droplets in every direction. When the metallic vapors cleared, there was a new hole in that wall. A track of destruction carved through the washracks beyond, and the opposite wall now held a massive dent where the thick metal had melted but not quite vaporized before solidifying again.

Maybe testing the new cannon outside would have been a better idea. Still, it had not destroyed anything important. Last time Brawl had checked, those washracks had been broken from crash damage to the plumbing, or something along those lines. Anyway, this test run confirmed that the new multi-barrel plasma cannon functioned as intended.

Despite the rapid firing, the power pack hardly even felt warm to the touch. Brawl engaged the safety mechanism and inspected the cannon visually, searching for hot spots, cracks, or structural weaknesses that might lead to catastrophic failure after continued use. Nothing stood out. The cannon was operational.

Perfect. Now that Brawl had accomplished something today, he could go back and face the others again.

Gathering the safety-locked cannon and a spare power pack in his subspace, Brawl left the melted corridor behind and went to check on progress in Starscream's lab.

Not much had changed since Brawl left. Miko was still on the shelf, idly observing the rest of the room. The console in the corner still showed a picture of that red crystal from earlier, although the background of the image had changed from a pit in the ground to a site filled with human construction vehicles. Onslaught, Blast Off, Swindle, and Starscream were still gathered around the cluttered tabletop.

During Brawl's absence, Starscream had cobbled together various components into a miniature energon condenser. A stack of three empty fuel drums sat to one side. The corresponding fuel sat inside a cylindrical combustion chamber, burning with the dim glow of whatever energy managed to escape between the absorber panels positioned around it on all sides. At the base of the energon condenser, a slow drip of blue energon splashed into a collection cube.

Swindle and Blast Off stood on either side of Starscream, interested gazes trained on the condenser. The holographic starchart rotated slowly over the surface of the table, apparently forgotten. Onslaught was still piecing together broken shards of computer circuitry, but his head was tilted such that he could watch the condenser operate in the corner of his visual field while working. Brawl came up beside Swindle, easily looking over the top of Swindle's head to get a good view of the new condenser.

The glow in the combustion chamber soon faded into darkness, and Starscream removed the collection cube. It was only a tenth full of energon. He held the cube up to the light and swirled it, testing the viscosity. The fluid sloshed around as energon should. In color and texture, it looked identical to normal low-grade energon.

"Loyal Combaticons, rejoice, for I now present to you the first batch of energon extracted from hydrocarbon sources on this planet. A revolutionary achievement, if I do say so myself." Starscream grinned in triumph. "Who wants the honor of testing the first cube? Any volunteers?"

Swindle stepped up, optics flashing infinitesimally brighter with a detailed scan. Satisfied with the scan results, he held out a hand. "Allow me."

Swindle took the cube and tried a sip. When he did not immediately keel over, Starscream leaned in with great interest.

"Well? How is it?"

"Looks fine, tastes fine. Low-grade with low impurity counts," Swindle reported. "Brilliant work, Starscream. This organic based fuel might have less payload than that crystal stuff you were refining before, but it's plentiful as long as the humans are willing to trade—and they're always willing to trade. Such a delightful species, so very pleased to do business as long as there's money to be made." He turned a blinding grin toward the room at large. "Gentlemechs, I'd say that we've hit the jackpot."

"Excellent. With my energon condenser and your acquisition skill, we won't need to contend with the Autobots for crystal scraps anymore." Starscream glanced over to the shelf with Miko's cube, and he flexed his claws. "It would seem that the hostages have outlived their usefulness."

Onslaught's head snapped up. Brawl tensed. Swindle quickly inserted his frame in front of Miko's cube.

"Let's not act rashly, Starscream." Swindle stepped closer, spreading his hands in a peace offering. "Look, I get where you're coming from. I really do. It's a pain to feed and water the human so often, and I'm the one who has to lug all that food in from town. Do you think I enjoy having organic goop in my subspace? Of course not. Still, Miko's sentimental value to the Autobots grants us bargaining power. Even though you've ensured that we don't need to bargain for energon anymore, we can't overlook that advantage. As for the Autobot, Vortex can speak to his usefulness."

Swindle called Vortex over comms, mirroring the audio and visual feeds on his integrated projector. A hologram of Vortex's disembodied head and shoulders appeared in the air over Swindle's arm.

"All my favorite mechs in one place! And Starscream. How's it going?" Vortex sounded like he was in a good mood. Two rotors bobbed cheerfully in the background of the hologram. The left side of his mask had a blue smudge.

Onslaught leaned forward in his seat. "Status report, Vortex. Has the Autobot spoken?"

"Oh, yes. Smokey has spoken plenty. In fact, he might be in a talking mood right now." Vortex's head tilted, and then the whole hologram tilted to a view of a ceiling. It rocked back and forth as Vortex moved the arm capturing the video feed. "Hey, Smokey. Smokescreen. Are you still with me?"

The hologram tilted further, revealing Vortex's latest progress. Swindle's vents momentarily stalled. Starscream's wings twitched. Blast Off looked away, visor flickering in a hard reboot.

Somewhere outside the hologram, Vortex laughed. "Pity. Smokey's feeling shy right now. He's usually so much more talkative."

Swindle reset his vocalizer with a sharp click. "Anyway, Vortex, we called because we're discussing what to do with the prisoners. Starscream thinks—"

"As I was saying," Starscream interrupted, voice prickly with offense and no small amount of tension, "the prisoners are a needless drain on our resources. With the success of my new energon condenser, we no longer require hostages for trade with the Autobots."

"What do you propose?" Onslaught asked.

"Put them out of their misery. Dispose of them and be done with it, just as I did with Cliffjumper." Starscream paused as though expecting some response. When these words were met by blank stares from all present, he scowled. "Ah, I must have forgotten to tell you about that. It's a long and harrowing tale of a hunt spanning the light years between Cybertron and Earth—but, in short, I personally terminated the Autobot Cliffjumper."

Blast Off was unimpressed. "Do try to show some class. We've all offed plenty of Autobots. You don't see anyone else here bragging about one paltry kill."

Silver wings shot up. "Why you insolent—"

Vortex snickered in the background. He had pointed the camera back at himself, and his holographic head and shoulders once again floated over Swindle's arm. Rotors spun behind his head, cutting in and out of the frame as they passed beyond the limits of his video pickup.

"Returning to the matter at hand," Onslaught cut in, "Swindle is right. The prisoners' probable value more than compensates for the inconvenience of holding them. Swindle, Brawl, you two have spent time among the Autobots. Will they consider a trade for general consumables—solvent, coolant, oil, paint—as well as a T-cog?"

Starscream flinched, wings tucking down.

Swindle shook his head. "Supplies should be easy enough, but I doubt they have a T-cog lying around. We might strike a deal for installation services, though, if we can get our hands on one. Ratchet is a competent medic."

"If it's parts you want, Smokey here doesn't need his T-cog," Vortex suggested.

"A... a grounder T-cog? Are you mad?" Starscream sputtered. "I refuse to become a car."

Vortex gave a short laugh. "You won't. Can't, either, without a serious frame reformat. It's the same as any other T-cog, just with a different scan loaded in. Once installed, you'd have your wings back as soon as you scanned the right plane."

"Sounds promising. What are the chances of a successful transplant?" Onslaught asked.

"Likely as any could be." Vortex shrugged. A blue splatter on his shoulder caught the light as he moved. "There's a reason stealing T-cogs was common even before the war. It's valuable, easy for an unskilled harvester to extract, and among the simpler parts to install. Simple enough that even I could install one."

"Excellent. A reasonable solution. Starscream?"

"That, it's, ugh." Starscream shuddered in disgust. "I won't have grounder parts in me."

"The tactical advantage of flight outweighs your personal squeamishness—"

"No. Absolutely not. However, medical services do sound useful. Ratchet could take a look at that loyalty code in Bruticus. See if he can't free you from Megatron's control. Restore Bruticus to my—ehh, to our command."

The refusal displeased Onslaught, but he agreed with the latter statement at least. "Bruticus remains a priority."

"Wait, wait just a moment," Swindle said quickly. "Ratchet might be a decent medic, but no way am I letting some Autobot root around in my base code, trade or no trade. You allow that, and next thing you know, you've got blue optics, and your battle computer's been surgically removed, and you're raving about redemption and civil rights and donating to charity."

Holographic Vortex bobbed his head vehemently. "Once they get in your processors, it's all over."

"Yeah. That. Couldn't put it better myself," Brawl agreed. Letting unknown mechs mess with their code was what had gotten Bruticus stuck with the loyalty code in the first place—and Starscream had not even meant to install it. Even if Ratchet started work on their processors with the best of intentions, one slip-up could lead to unfixable problems. Plus, after the mess Brawl and Swindle had made of the Autobot base, Ratchet no doubt had plenty of motivation to intentionally sabotage their code.

Starscream frowned. "It can't be all that bad. An Autobot Ratchet may be, but he's highly qualified for all manners of medical work, hardware and software alike. His service record is impeccable. If you don't believe me, see for yourself."

Starscream went over to the console in the corner, by all appearances fully intending to pull up a personnel file on Ratchet. At the sight of the image on the screen, he stiffened.

"Red energon," Starscream gasped. He glanced back, wearing an expression of utter shock. "Why didn't anyone tell me sooner? This changes everything. I must have this red energon."

The red crystal was important after all. Brawl supposed that he probably could have mentioned it earlier, when he first noticed it. Then again, how was he supposed to know that it mattered?

"Hold on a sec," Brawl said, feeling defensive after that minor oversight. "Back when we first woke up here, you were telling us about how some black energon stuff drove Megatron mad. Now you're interested in this red energon? What if it fries your circuits, too?"

"It isn't like that. That was dark energon. Red energon is perfectly safe to consume," Starscream insisted.

Swindle looked skeptical. "I've seen a lot of energon in my line of work, and none of it was red."

"Experimental formula. After your time." Starscream waved off his concerns. "Speaking of time, we need to retrieve that red energon immediately. If my image-detection scripts have noticed it, the Autobots have likely found it as well. Combaticons, prepare to deploy."

There was only one mech whose deployment orders held any weight here. Brawl glanced at Swindle, and they both looked toward Onslaught. The weight of command was evident in the militarily correct set of his shoulders, the slow sweep of his visor. Onslaught took his time examining the half-assembled console spread across the table in front of him. After a long and deliberate silence, he raised his head to regard Starscream.

"Starscream, your refusal of a T-cog transplant deprives the whole team of aerial support. You're in no position to be picky. But if you insist, we shall see how well you fare without one. You want that red energon? Don't presume to order my mechs around. Fetch it yourself." Onslaught's voice was steady and reasonable.

"This is unacceptable. Who freed you? Gathered your scattered team? Provided you with fuel and shelter in your time of need? No other than myself," Starscream hissed. He drew himself up to his full height, and the Apex Armor appeared in his grasp. "When I return victorious, you'll all know the taste of my wrath."

"If you return, we'll continue this discussion," Onslaught replied, cool as ever.

Apex Armor in hand, Starscream exited the lab without another word. The little dot of his comm beacon threaded through the ship in a direct path toward the groundbridge control room, and then he jumped to a location several hundred kilometers away.

Starscream marched into the excavation site, fully encased in the Apex Armor.

With the Apex Armor in his possession, claiming the red energon should have been a simple matter of reaching out and plucking it from that pitiful construction rig the humans had used to transport it. Trivially easy, except for one small problem: there was no red energon.

Starscream looked around the excavation site, taking full advantage of the extra height afforded by the Apex Armor to peer over rocks and into vehicles.

A low hum caught Starscream's attention. He looked up. In the distance, a tiny white speck was quickly shrinking into a dot. He boosted the magnification on his optics, and the dot resolved into a familiar Autobot dropship.

The Jackhammer flew away, loaded with Starscream's red energon.

Snarling in fury, Starscream triggered the Apex Armor deactivation sequence. It could not fold away from his limbs quickly enough. Once his arms were free, he took aim and fired both missiles at the Jackhammer.

The ship dodged and returned fire. Flashes lit up the night sky as each missile was neutralized. Then, the ship moved out of missile range, leaving one flightless Starscream in the middle of the excavation site with the useless Apex Armor in hand, cursing Wheeljack to the Pit.

Keeping pace with the Jackhammer should have been effortless. However, without access to his alt-mode, Starscream could only stand there and watch as the Autobots flew away with his rightful prize.

To Starscream's absolute mortification, Onslaught was waiting in the groundbridge control room when he returned empty-handed. After one look at Starscream's defeated scowl, Onslaught understood.

"You will receive that T-cog," Onslaught decided. "Without transformation, you are too much of a liability."

Recent events made it hard to argue with that reasoning.

Some hours later, Vortex visited Starscream's lab to find Starscream, Swindle, and Onslaught inside. Brawl and Blast Off had wandered elsewhere on the ship. Within the lab, Onslaught was rebuilding a broken computer. Swindle had the faraway look of a mech tabulating his finances. Starscream had been working at an intact computer console, but he took one look at Vortex, screeched, and dove behind Onslaught.

"Heh. Someone's happy to see me," Vortex said.

Onslaught looked up. "Is it done?"

"Sure is. Here's the T-cog." Vortex held up a containment cube with the freshly extracted transformation cog inside. It was a bit wet and drippy, but he had taken great care to preserve all of the connections while removing it. "Oh, and I also found something else—not any biotech I've ever seen, but not much good as a weapon either. Any idea what it is?"

From subspace, Vortex took out a wrench-shaped object about the same size as Starscream's forearm. The object had brassy overtones and an antique looking finish. Vortex had clearly treated it to a quick wipe-down, but hints of the same blue that coated Vortex's forearms still glowed from between the object's interlocking plates and deeper seams. Swindle came over to inspect the object, but he soon shook his head.

"Wall decor? Doorstop? Beats me. Where'd you find it?"

"Under Smokescreen's hood. A bit to the left of the T-cog housing. You should've heard the noises he made when I found it."

Swindle jerked back the finger he had been about to prod it with. "Ah, no need for that. Based on the location alone, it's probably valuable. I could take it off your hands for a minor service fee."

"And sell it for scrap? Not a chance. Finders keepers. You want one, get your own."

Disturbance warred with opportunism in Swindle's optics. Opportunism won. "At least consider it. I'd split the profits with you, say, ninety-ten?"

"Highway robbery," Vortex protested, dropping the wrench-like object back into his subspace.

"Eighty-twenty? Come on, Vortex. What would you even do with it?"

"Keep it as a souvenir. Maybe I'll sharpen it later." Vortex turned away with a dismissive flick of rotors. He held up the cube with the transformation cog. "Starscream, you're up. Time for surgery."

Behind Onslaught's chair, Starscream squeaked. "What? Onslaught, what is the meaning of this? We agreed to a T-cog installation, not death by Vortex."

Onslaught set down a screwdriver and pressed that hand to his head. "Starscream..."

"Yes, installation. Of this T-cog. By me, the most qualified T-cog installer around," Vortex said slowly.

Starscream's head popped out, and he glared with comically bright optics. "By you? That wasn't the plan. What happened to trading for Autobot repair services?"

"No need to strike a risky deal when we have a cheaper option right here." Swindle gestured at Vortex with a crooked smirk that was half for show and half true amusement.

"Cheap?" Vortex gasped in mock offense.

Starscream shook his head. "No. Not happening. Not after what you pulled in the brig. Certainly not after what you just did to the Autobot."

This took Vortex by surprise. "The brig? You're still worked up over that? It was just a bit of harmless fun."

Starscream's whole frame shook with outrage. His claws tensed around the back of Onslaught's chair, screeching as they dug into the metal. "Onslaught, this is not what I agreed to."

Onslaught's other hand came up to join its pair, hiding his visor completely.

"Well, I did my part," Vortex said cheerfully. He set the cube holding the extracted transformation cog on the table in front of Onslaught. He also gave Onslaught a little pat on the shoulder. "The rest is your problem, boss. Convince him or don't—I'll be back whenever you need me. I'd best return to little Smokey now, before he gets lonely."

Cog thus delivered, Vortex left the lab.

Aboard the Nemesis, Knock Out was rapidly developing sympathy for all of those times when Starscream had complained about his advice going unheard. Trying to persuade Megatron toward a course he did not already desire was about as productive as talking to a wall, albeit significantly more dangerous.

"At least consider it, my Liege," Knock Out tried again. "Breakdown was a loyal Decepticon and a devoted soldier. I admit, the reappearance of his lifesigns is most unexpected, but if there's even a chance he's still out there, bringing him back can only benefit the Decepticons."

Megatron turned to face him fully, and it was an effort not to cower. Knock Out locked his joints and did his best to fake Starscream's most convincing simper. It felt unnatural on his own faceplates. Megatron seemed unconvinced.

"Your persistence will not change our priorities, Knock Out. Until Soundwave makes another breakthrough on the Iacon database, the search for Starscream and the Combaticons requires the full attention of all scouting parties."

"Of course I wouldn't presume to question your decisions, Lord Megatron. It's just—when Soundwave's precious long-lost deployer might have been spotted planetside, it's an all-hands-on-deck emergency... but when Breakdown, an actual Decepticon warrior, is broadcasting actual lifesigns, it's not important enough to send one Vehicon squad? One?" Frustration stripped the caution from Knock Out's words.

Megatron glowered. "Can Breakdown alone give me a combiner?"

They both knew the answer to that. Knock Out flinched and dared press no further.