Ratchet turned his head lazily to face Jazz, who was seated about ten feet away from him with a group of minibots. The black and white caretaker of the Ark had his feet up on the table and both arms spread across the back of the couch.
"Shouldn't we be storing some of this energon?" the chief medical officer inquired, as he leaned over in his seat to dip his cup in the pan of energon on the floor. His motors tiring from the overcharge, he relaxed his frame.
Before Jazz could answer, Brawn interjected with a hearty laugh. "Only if there's anything left!"
The comment elicited a chorus of laughter from the other minibots nearby.
"I'll drink to that," Bumblebee smiled merrily, eyes glowing brightly. He raised his cup and clinked it with the cups of Gears and Warpath.
"ZOWEE!" Warpath replied, his battle mask vents glowing bright blue, whether or not he was speaking. "You can BLAM say that again!"
"Oh, spare me the sound effects," Gears complained, holding his head with one hand and his drink in the other. "They're starting to give me an overcharge headache."
"Oh, Gears…" Bumblebee whined in protest.
The lounge lights flickered. For a brief moment it seemed they would fade out, but the power ramped back up and all was normal. Ratchet exchanged a concerned look with Jazz.
The saboteur grinned playfully. "Maybe a little too much power for the ol' ship, eh Ratchet?" Jazz could not help but notice the gunner's wide optics from a distance. "Oh, c'mon, Bluestreak. It's nothing. Just a power surge. These things happen."
Ratchet turned and observed Bluestreak. The silver Autobot never did like the energon buzz. After a moment, Ratchet slowly nodded his agreement with Jazz's conclusion, and Bluestreak began to relax.
"See?" Jazz chuckled and shook his head. "Plenty of power."
Ratchet did have a good point, though, about storing the excesses for later. Too bad it would mean that he had to exercise his overheating hydraulics in order to get a little bit of work done.
"Exc-uuuse me," Powerglide said with inflection as Jazz lowered his feet for the minibot to get by.
Jazz recognized Powerglide's maneuver to leave before being asked to go to work storing the energon. Being so laid back after a few cups of energon, Jazz did not want to involve anyone that might be hard to work with, so he turned to Bumblebee to be his first volunteer.
"What do you say you help me get some storage containers for all this energon, Bumblebee?" Jazz asked as cool as possible so as not lay any heavies on the minibot.
"I'll help the little guy do it," Brawn volunteered himself with bravado, "as soon as I'm done this energon."
Across the room, Huffer leaned back in his chair at the sound of Brawn's loud voice. Brawn picked up his half-filled cup and downed it quickly, followed by the second full cup, double-fist style.
"Okay," Jazz stood up, and placed a hand behind his head. "That lets me off the hook."
Ratchet sat up straight, surprised to hear Jazz not taking more of a role in supervising the handling and storage of the energy. He might be a little buzzed on energon, but was not going to sit by idly while the job was not properly managed. Jazz was usually very good at managing others, but liked to do things with his own style, a style that did not always mesh with Ratchet's expectations.
"No it doesn't," Ratchet firmly corrected Jazz. "You can start by taking these pans and emptying them down below, where those two are going to take some storage containers. And when you're done emptying them, bring them and some bigger ones back and I'll turn this thing back on and we'll really get going."
Jazz raised his hands defensively, mocking concern. "Sure thing, boss Ratchet."
"Boss?!" The chief medical officer looked cross for a moment, but then his expression gave way to lighthearted mirth. "Go on, get out of here."
Jazz chuckled as he turned back to face Bumblebee. "You know, on second thought, let's go check the generator down below, just to make Bluestreak happy. C'mon, Bee."
Bumblebee sprung out of his seat. Brawn was slower, but not less enthusiastic. There was work to be done.
The three Autobots ventured down to the deck below. The generator was located in a large room of its own due to its great size. It was one of the first pieces of equipment set up when they stabilized their base in the mountainside after coming out of stasis lock. The Autobots packed many generators for their journey, expecting them to be set up and extract resources for the contingent left back on Cybertron. But a substantial number of them broke loose in the crash and were heavily damaged. The one the Autobots used to convert the volcano's geothermal energy into a reliable power source was one of the few that miraculously survived the crash without sustaining much damage.
Arriving at the generator room, the trio stopped and listened. The low drone of the generator running at capacity inside was muted through the double doors. Jazz looked between the others, observing their expressions as he adjusted the sensitivity of his auditory sensors. Finally, he shrugged and opened the two large doors.
Even though the machine was well isolated to prevent vibration transfer through the floor, the air waves carried the low, resonating sound toward the three Autobots standing at the doorway. Bumblebee covered his auditory receptors and decided to wait out in the hallway with the energon pans. Brawn took a few steps inside and looked around the room.
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The thick conduits above the compressor module contained the fresh energon distributed to the ship's systems, to Teletraan I and up to the dispenser in the lounge. Down below the generator, far beneath the floor that they stood upon, was the other half of the energy extraction equipment.
The physics behind the generating equipment was beyond any of their understanding. If it were not for Wheeljack and some of the other more technically inclined Autobots they would have powered down for the last time long ago, unable to provide themselves with the energy that powered their circuits.
Jazz checked the protection and alarms on the control panel. An amber light blinked its silent alarm status, indicating a fault on the main pump in the compressor unit. Jazz checked the dormant pump behind him. The secondary pump was on, taking up some of the load, so he tried resetting the breaker. After a brief moment, wherein the machinery ran a diagnostic, the big pump cycled back up and the compressor system was back up to full capacity again.
"Got it fixed?" Brawn asked loudly over the drone of heavy machinery as Jazz came back toward him.
"Yeah, no problem. Like I said: everything's A-OK."
"So, what was it?" the minibot inquired as they joined Bumblebee back in the hallway. The doors closed behind them and the sound level dropped back down to a normal level.
"Some kind of problem with one of the pumps. I just reset it," Jazz shrugged.
"Well then, let's get to work getting that energon stored," Brawn stated as he rubbed his palms together.
"Okay," Bumblebee chimed, full of energon as he picked up one of the pans and handed it to Brawn.
With the other pan handed up to Jazz, the three made their way to one of the Ark's storage vaults to pick up as many energon storage containers as they could carry. Energon cubes were useful for short term storage, but with the quantity of energon they were producing, they would need to use containers that would keep the energon fresh for longer. There were plenty of containers on the Ark since the purpose of their flight from Cybertron was to gather as much energon as possible and return home with the resources they needed to turn the tide and win the war. But thanks to the fact that the Earth was populated, it was not a simple matter for the Autobots to gather energy en masse as they had hoped. Add to that the fact that Megatron had to be stopped from destroying the Earth's resources and harming humanity, there were plenty of empty energy storage containers available in the vault.
Brawn slung one of the large, silver cylinders effortlessly over one shoulder. "Hand me another, Jazz." Jazz handed the tough minibot a second cylinder, which he heaved over the other shoulder with as little effort as he did the first. Brawn grinned at the other two Autobots. "I'll see you two over at transfer room."
The transfer room was the only place where they could safely transfer the energon to the storage containers. The room was designed to be explosion-proof and it contained all of the equipment to cleanly transfer energon and contain it at the necessary density for economy of space.
Jazz picked up a cylinder and pivoted to face Bumblebee, then paused as he changed his mind. The cylinders were awfully big for the little yellow minibot, he realized. Jazz set the cylinder down on its end beside him and gently leaned on it as he spoke to Bumblebee.
"Hey Bumblebee, why don't you go see if you can find some bigger pans to bring back to Ratchet. You know, somethin' clean."
Bumblebee shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you say, Jazz."
As Bumblebee left the vault, Jazz picked up the two energon pans, carefully balancing them on one forearm then slowly lifted the cylinder under his other arm until he had all three items under control. Being the largest of the three Autobots, he could handle carrying more than the other two could. All he had to do was make it to the transfer room without experiencing a small tremor. He knew his chances were good that he would make it, since the periodic shaking seemed to be diminishing in the last hour. But just to make the trip a little more interesting, Jazz turned on his stereo to provide some tunes for his trek over to the transfer room.
Bumblebee headed down the vacant hallway, past the locked rooms on either side of him. He heard Jazz's music echo down the hallway in the opposite direction as Jazz headed over to the transfer room. Thankfully, Jazz did not have his music turned up too loud. Whatever was in the rooms must not have been needed very often for Prime to keep them locked, he pondered. Still, he was curious about the nature of the rooms' contents.
Since the lower levels of the ship were not occupied, but instead used for storage, they were dimly lit to conserve power. There was something written above a couple of the doorways, but Bumblebee had trouble making out the script.
"Now where would they put a light switch around here?" he wondered out loud, his head still buzzing with energon.
Bumblebee felt along the wall as he walked further along the hallway and around a corner.
"There's not even a control panel around here," he complained to himself.
As he continued to look for a light switch, his optics gradually adjusted to the soft lights, and the script became more readable. With brightly glowing blue optics fixed on the plaque above one door he read the description.
"Miscellaneous tooling. Nope. That's not what I'm looking for."
The gentle lighting above appeared to become brighter as the minibot's optics continued to adjust in the dim hallway. He checked the plaque across the hall, but the room only turned out to be full of recycled oil and filters, so he slowly continued down the hall, temporarily distracted by trying to learn what was in all of the rooms on either side of him.
"Consoles, manifolds, and housings," he read aloud to himself. "Nope. That's definitely not it."
The energon buzz briefly interrupted the functioning of his cerebral circuits, and Bumblebee stopped, having forgotten what it was he was looking for. "Oh slag, what was it I was looking for again?"
He was answered by a raspy metallic noise further down the hallway. Surprised to hear anything in that part of the ship, he quickly turned in the direction of the noise. Everyone was supposed to be upstairs, that is, unless Ratchet had come down to help them find the containers himself.
"Ratchet? Is that you?" Bumblebee called into the shadows. The door-lined hallway disappeared into darkness. He strained his optic servos, waiting for a reply. None came, so he took a few steps further down the hall, expecting to see the larger Autobot emerge out of the shadows any moment.
Bumblebee chuckled. "C'mon Ratch', you can cut it out. I know you're there."
An eerie silence followed his words as they echoed into the darkness down the hallway. Just as he began to wonder what he ought to do, there was another metallic noise from down the hall, followed by another, and then another. He tilted his head as he listened to it.
"What on Earth is that?" Bumblebee spoke softly to himself, realizing it was obviously not Ratchet.
It sounded like something was cleaving the metal on the ceiling. Or more like it sounded like something heavy that was on the ceiling. The sound of deforming metal increased in frequency and volume, until Bumblebee finally realized that there was something hurriedly approaching him along the ceiling.
"Uh-oh," the minibot uttered as several large shadows sprung toward him. As he disappeared underneath a multitude of dark shapes, a metallic cry rose up and was carried back up the hallway where it mingled and faded with Jazz's music.
Brawn held the third cylinder upright against the base of the filling rack and locked the clamps in place. Jazz's rock and roll music jarred his auditory sensors as the other Autobot connected the filling assembly to the storage cylinder and emptied the pans into the transparent sump tank. As he stood back and watched Jazz, the sound resonated uncomfortably with a natural harmonic of his cerebral chips.
"Jazz, do you mind turning that thing off?" Brawn asked, squinting. "I don't know how much longer I can take it."
Jazz poured the last of the energon into the sump then turned his stereo off. "Sorry, Brawn," Jazz apologized. "I forgot you don't like my easy listening music."
"What I don't like is it shaking my cerebral chips loose like that misfit machine, Rumble," Brawn answered bluntly. "Ah…that's more like it."
Jazz gazed over at the sight glass on the side of the sump. It was only an eighth full.
"We're gonna be here a looong time," he reflected to Brawn.
"Yeah, too bad we can't just run some hoses down here," Brawn replied with hands upturned. "We're gonna need a bunch of bigger pans..."
"…and a whole lot of help," Jazz finished the thought.
Brawn rested his knuckles on his hip plates and pushed out his chest plate. "Well, I'm all juiced up and ready to go," the minibot stated, a wide overcharge grin on his faceplate.
Jazz chuckled at Brawn's pun. True enough, they had enough energon in them to last well through the job, even if it took them into the evening just to keep up with the new energon being pumped. If they paced themselves they may not even feel the aftereffects once the buzz wore off.
Brawn turned and looked through the doorway of the room, leaning to see further down the hallway.
"Where's Bumblebee?" he wondered. "It isn't that hard to find bigger pans around here." The olive green and orange minibot laughed at the thought of the weaker Bumblebee struggling to handle a set of large pans. "I bet I'll have to carry them for him."
With that, Brawn strode out of the room with Jazz behind him. The two Autobots returned to check the room where the pans were located, but Bumblebee was nowhere to be found, so they ventured back to the vault. The door was still open, but the large repository was vacant. Jazz scratched his head.
"Where'd he go?" the black and white Autobot wondered out loud.
A faint metallic scratching echoed down the corridor outside the room. Both Autobots spun around, surprised by the unusual sound. Brawn looked out in the hallway, but saw nothing in the shadowy distance.
"Bumblebee….?" the minibot asked, unsure how Bumblebee would be making such a strange sound.
"Let's go check it out," Jazz told Brawn. "He must be having some trouble."
As they approached the corner in the hallway, the sound resolved from scratching into the clear and awful sound of metal being bent and ripped. Both Autobots looked at each other knowingly. They hurried around the corner and were dumbstruck by what they found.
Their mouths hung open in disbelief.
"Insecticons!" Jazz finally cried, prying his optics off the torn chassis of Bumblebee.
Bumblebee lay unconscious on his back underneath five Insecticons. His faceplate missing, all his facial mechanisms were visible. Bumblebee's chest plate and neck were cleaved open and the ends of his severed fuel lines rhythmically gushed energon. The five Insecticons, glowing pink energon coating their quivering mandibles, were busy feeding off the minibot's fuel lines when Jazz and Brawn surprised them.
"That's my friend, you rotten pests!" Brawn called angrily out toward the unfazed Insecticon clones.
He ran forward several steps, ready to grab the nearest Decepticon and toss it into the others, but stopped abruptly when he kicked something in the shadows. The dull grey object slid across the floor and rebounded against the wall before finally coming to rest next to Bumblebee. It was his faceplate. Brawn winced at the grisly sight.
One of the Decepticon grasshoppers placed a protective appendage across the waist of its prey and continued to chew on a burst fuel line. The beetle Insecticons hissed a grating, echoing noise, warning the Autobots to stay away.
"I said-" Brawn scolded them as he boldly approached, grabbing the large chromed mandibles of a stag beetle clone. He twisted the jaws until the Insecticon flipped over into a boll weevil clone, knocking it into the wall, before the momentum flipped it over again, back onto its right side. Brawn rushed forward and grabbed the stag beetle again by its large jaws. He thrust forward, pushing the chromed mandibles of the stag beetle into the air until the underside of the Insecticon was exposed. "Bug off!" A swift kick to the prone underbody sent it hurtling into the shadows, where it landed with a loud crash.
Two grasshoppers leapt on top of Brawn, searching for an easy joint to cleave open. Energon dripped from their open mandibles onto him as he struggled to hold both of them off him. But two quick bursts from Jazz's photon rifle dispatched them and the minibot was free again. Brawn made quick work of the last Insecticon, another stag beetle. He swung it by the mandibles, letting go so that it flew into the other recovering Insecticons. With a momentary reprieve, Jazz rushed forward to provide cover fire for Brawn as Brawn bent down and picked up Bumblebee's partially eaten chassis and faceplate. He carefully placed Bumblebee over his shoulder and ran as fast as he could toward the elevator.
"Jazz!" he called heartily to the other Autobot. "Time to go!"
"Coming!" Jazz replied as he let off another shot to keep the Insecticons at bay.
The clones inched forward, looking to reclaim their stolen meal, but were met by Jazz's photon blasts. As he backed away from the Decepticons, Jazz let off a final rapid succession of shots at the five Insecticons. Landing several shots to the head of one of the grasshoppers, it stopped and collapsed where it stood. A steady stream of energon poured out from its ruptured throat line deep inside its broken head casing.
Smelling the fresh fuel so close by, the other Insecticons lost interest in the Autobots and turned on the fallen grasshopper clone. Seeing the Decepticons distracted, Jazz turned and bolted for the elevator after Brawn.
Inside the elevator, Jazz hit the close door button and the heavy door slid shut, comfortably sealing them inside. He hurriedly pressed the button for the lounge floor, where Ratchet and the others were. As the elevator lifted, Brawn looked over his shoulder at the still yellow and black minibot.
"Is he…dead?" Brawn asked hesitantly, fearing the worst.
"I don't know," Jazz replied flatly as he gazed at Bumblebee's loose body resting over Brawn's shoulder. "Let's just get him to Ratchet. He's the only one that can do something."
The elevator door slid open. The hallway on the lounge level was quiet. Jazz poked his head out and checked in both directions, his trigger finger ready on his photon rifle. Brawn tightened his grip on Bumblebee's faceplate, aware that if they encountered any trouble he was seriously inhibited from fighting.
"All clear," Jazz announced, and stepped out into the hallway. "I'll scout ahead to make sure it's safe. Follow me."
The tip of Jazz's silver photon rifle flicked quickly around the corner, followed by the tensed Autobot an instant later. The coast clear, he silently motioned forward to Brawn. Jazz jogged as quietly as possible up the hallway, his auditory sensors turned up to detect the slightest noise out of the ordinary. The carefree voices in the lounge echoing softly toward him told him that there were no Insecticons blocking their passage.
"C'mon Brawn!" Jazz called. "Shake a leg!"
The smaller Autobot's feet resounded heavily against the metallic floor as he hurried toward Jazz and the lounge. "This is fast as I can go carrying two tons of Bumblebee."
The sudden sight of Jazz and Brawn bursting through the doorway into the lounge caught everyone by surprise. As Jazz stopped to lock the door behind them, Brawn hurried over to Ratchet and laid Bumblebee's chassis and faceplate on the floor. Curiosity faded into mute shock as the Autobots gathered around their fallen friend. Some had to look away.
"What on Cybertron happened?" Ratchet cried as he knelt down beside the broken minibot. His training took over as he began to assess the severity of Bumblebee's injuries.
"Insecticons!" Jazz and Brawn announced in unison.
"The Insecticons did it," repeated Brawn, angrily. "We found them over by the storage lockers."
"What?! How would Insecticons get in here without us knowing?" Cliffjumper asked incredulously.
A murmur rose up as the others pulled out their weapons. Teletraan I should have detected the intruders. Since no alarm had sounded, fear and confusion began to spread throughout the lounge. Decepticons were not supposed to be able to penetrate their way into the Ark without any warning.
Ratchet quickly removed the fragments of fuel line lagging from Bumblebee's interior so that he could get a good look at the injuries. It was difficult to see how far the damage extended with all of the energon coating the minibot's internal components.
"Get me a rag!" the chief medical officer ordered sternly, and someone handed him one a moment later.
Ratchet began to wipe down the mechanisms, then set the rag aside when he realized that it would be more effective to remove several damaged modules to get at Bumblebee's core conduits more easily. It was obvious that the lines to Bumblebee's head were damaged beyond simple repair, but the medic needed to know the extent of any disruption to Bumblebee's laser core system. He moved quickly, manually shutting off the valves to Bumblebee's non-vital systems to conserve energy and removed the modules in his way.
Several Autobots stood dumbfounded around the chief medical officer. Bumblebee was the last Autobot that deserved to suffer such a fate, and a grisly example of what could happen to any one of them. Jazz seized the moment to get the others' attention.
"Hey, everyone!" he called loudly. Everyone but Ratchet turned their optics in his direction. "Autobots, we have got a big problem on our hands here. We'll have to move fast to stop these Insecticons."
"I'm gonna bust up some Decepticons and make them wish they never heard of the Ark," Cliffjumper stated angrily with clenched fists raised.
"Yeah," Ironhide enthusiastically joined in. "We'll show them not to mess with us."
"Hold it guys," Jazz responded quickly. "I said 'fast,' but we can't just go chargin' in there blindly."
"No?" Ironhide tensed as he challenged Jazz through narrowed optics. "Just watch me."
Cliffjumper nodded his agreement.
Jazz put his hands on his hip plates and tilted his head to one side. "I counted five Insecticons down below."
"And how many of us do you see, Jazz?" Cliffjumper retorted emphatically.
Brawn interjected, knowing Jazz's conclusion. "What he means is the Insecticon clones have gotten into the Ark somehow."
"And I don't think we met up with the real McCoys," Jazz finished.
"That still makes eight of them against…fifteen of us?" The red minibot pushed his point.
"But there could be hundreds of those things," Huffer protested as he stepped forward to add his input.
Ratchet shook his head as he listened to the conversation between the others. He needed to get Bumblebee to medical bay, and he was going to need help doing it. Discarding the burst hose ends and removing the intake manifold for Bumblebee's power converter, he observed the array of tiny valves hissing dryly as they sucked in air with each timed opening. His systems are starving!
"I need a volunteer, fast!" Ratchet interrupted the others.
Bumblebee was still functioning, but his chances for recovery would depend on how quickly he received a new supply of energy. Sustaining his power core was vital now, but micro valves could not be supplied from an energon dispenser tap.
Ratchet's request was met by obstinate silence as the others struggled to comprehend what he was asking for. The chief medical officer furrowed his optic ridges, growing frustrated at the lack of response.
"I need someone to give Bumblebee an energon transfusion," Ratchet explained crossly. "Now someone better step forward or, so help you, I'll choose one of you myself!"
"I'll do it," Gears announced with sullen resignation. He sat down on the floor next to Bumblebee and shrugged. "It's not like I'm going to be of much help, anyway."
Cliffjumper rolled his optics and looked away. "Pathetic…" he cursed quietly.
Ratchet moved over to the other side of Gears and pushed against his chest plate to get him to lay down.
Gears turned his head towards Ratchet. "Just do me one favor," he requested as the chief medical officer began to disassemble his torso down to his power assembly.
"What's that?" Ratchet inquired as he hastily worked.
"If we're losing, don't bring me back online."
The large red and white medic stopped and looked at him with surprise. "I'm not taking you offline," Ratchet explained, then finished with a half-smile. "You'll be awake through the whole thing."
Gears moaned. He felt the power to his legs leave as Ratchet disconnected a multi-head power conduit and fed it into Bumblebee's torso.
As Ratchet continued to set up a transfusion interface between Bumblebee and Gears, the other Autobots formulated a tactical response.
"We need action now," Ironhide demanded of Jazz, pounding his fist into his palm. "Either you have a plan, or I'm takin' matters into my own hands."
"Cool it, Ironhide," Brawn interjected. "Prime left Jazz in charge, and I'm sure he has a plan. Right Jazz?"
Everything was happening so quickly that Jazz had no time to devise a failsafe response, and the excess energon in his systems was not helping matters. He needed to get to Teletraan I, but first he had to direct the others with him in the lounge.
"Okay, guys," Jazz waved his arms in the air to get everyone's attention. "Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna split up into two teams and search the Ark to find out where the Insecticons are coming in and try to stop them. Focus on C-deck first. The lounge will be our rallying point."
"But I need help getting Bumblebee and Gears to medical bay," Ratchet protested.
Jazz corrected himself. "Okay, three teams. Brawn, Huffer."
The two minibots stepped forward at Jazz's request.
"Help Ratchet take those two to medical bay, then stand guard there," Jazz instructed them.
"But what if the Insecticons find us?" Huffer worried.
"Don't worry, Huffer," Brawn responded gruffly, nudging the orange and grey minibot with his elbow. "I can handle a few big bugs for you."
Huffer looked to Ratchet for some consolation that they would be safe in medical bay.
"I can lock the door, but I can't do much else," Ratchet explained as he finished the energon transfusion.
Huffer crossed his arms and laughed at the futility of the situation. "We're doomed."
"Maybe you'd like us to all give up right now," Cliffjumper reacted, then turned his back on Huffer. "Well, I'm gonna fight as long as I'm functioning."
Several other Autobots voiced their agreement with Cliffjumper.
Cliffjumper eagerly looked up at Jazz, his optics still glowing brightly blue from all the energon. "Jazz, who's on my team?"
Jazz looked about the lounge. Huffer transformed and Brawn and Ratchet carefully lifted Gears and Bumblebee onto the back of the small orange tractor trailer rig. Jazz summed up the available Autobots, including a few that were elsewhere in the Ark. This was a job for everyone.
"Cliffjumper," Jazz addressed the minibot with an air of authority. "You and Bluestreak find Trailbreaker. The three of you are team one."
"Right away," the minibot acknowledged Jazz. Cliffjumper opened the locked door and hurriedly left the lounge with his pistol in hand. Bluestreak picked up his beam rifle, which was leaning up against the arm of the couch, and followed him.
"Warpath, Windcharger," Jazz announced the names of the two minibots. "You are with me on team two. I need you two to find Hound, then regroup back here. I'm gonna check what's up with Teletraan then meet you back here."
"You WHAM said it," Warpath confirmed the order, and the other two minibots left the lounge to find their other team member.
"What about me?" Ironhide inquired with concern in his vocalizer. "Where's my piece of the action?"
"Sorry, Ironhide," Jazz apologized. "But I need someone to guard our rally point."
The old veteran grumbled his displeasure. "But I can fight."
Jazz laughed and shook his head. "I don't doubt it, man."
"Then let me go with Cliffjumper, or even to medical bay," Ironhide suggested, hoping to persuade Jazz. "I don't want to sit here on my tailpipe while everyone else gets to bust up these Deceptibugs."
"Ironhide," Jazz addressed the older Autobot with a sigh. "You're the best 'bot for the job. It'll be you, Beachcomber and Powerglide, when you find him."
Across the room, Beachcomber leaned sideways, resting his head in his hand upon hearing Jazz's news. While he was glad not to be assigned a fighting role, he also hoped that the three of them were not attacked. The thought of potentially having to deal out violence or suffer it done to him visibly disturbed him.
Ironhide observed the easy going geologist and crossed his arms. "Alright," he reluctantly agreed with a tense jaw mechanism, then looked back at Jazz. "But I don't like it."
Ratchet followed Huffer through the doorway, then stopped and looked back at the two conversing Autobots. "Don't let Ironhide give you any trouble," the chief medical officer offered in support of Jazz. "He's just been cooped up in here too long." He smiled at Jazz and Ironhide, then disappeared behind the door as it shut.
With his photon rifle ready, Jazz left through the other door, headed for Teletraan I. Alone in the lounge with Beachcomber, Ironhide thought for a moment about radioing Powerglide about being needed to guard the lounge. But, he grinned to himself, if he left to look for the minibot himself, he might chance seeing some action if he was lucky. So with that, the security chief left Beachcomber by himself. Beachcomber looked as if he would protest for a moment, but refrained from saying anything as Ironhide left.
Using the cover of shadowy sections of hallway and protection behind corners, Jazz stealthily crept through the Ark toward Teletraan I. Bluestreak might have been right to be worried about what lurked in the shadows, after all. Sneaking around inside the ship reminded him of the tension of special operations back on Cybertron, when the game was all about survival. Being cool was essential for overcoming fear and concern for oneself during a mission, and it allowed him to focus expertly on the objective. This was no different.
He cautiously checked the perimeter of the control room before entering. The main screen blinked on as if Teletraan I knew that Jazz was coming to check it. The room appeared clear, so the saboteur entered and approached the large main computer.
"Teletraan I," Jazz summoned the computer as he pressed buttons on the console. "Why was there no alarm when the Insecticons got in?"
"There are no Insecticons inside Autobot Headquarters," Teletraan I replied in monotone.
"What?" Jazz asked aloud in surprise. "What about outside the base?"
"There are no Insecticons detected outside the base."
Jazz was puzzled. Something must be wrong with Teletraan I because there were definitely Insecticons inside the base.
"Teletraan, get me Silverbolt," he stated firmly.
A grainy image of the Aerialbot leader appeared on the large screen in front of Jazz, lighting up the room. Jazz adjusted the output to improve the connection with Silverbolt to no avail.
"Silverbolt, what's happening out there?" Jazz asked urgently.
"What do you mean?" the Aerialbot replied, confused by the question. He double checked around him before continuing. "Nothing, I think. Why? What – is it the volcano?"
Jazz had not stopped to think that there could be a connection between the recent seismic activity and the arrival of the Insecticons, but there was no time to think about it just then.
"We've got Insecticons crawling around in here. They already took down Bumblebee. Are you under attack out there? We didn't get an alarm and we don't know how they're getting in," Jazz answered quickly.
Silverbolt was stunned by the news. "Insecticons…?" There was no sign of any Decepticon activity outside the base. That is, he slowly realized, unless those radar anomalies were not migrating birds at all. Suddenly, it made sense. The reason why Fireflight and Skydive could not find anything was because the Insecticons must have gone underground, right beneath their feet into the base. "No, it's been quiet out here, but I think -"
"No time right now," Jazz interrupted. "Just find out where -"
Interference interrupted the communication and the screen turned to white noise as circuitry crackled inside the paneling near the right side of Teletraan's console. Something was crunching through conduit and electrical components inside the main computer. He aimed his rifle at the spot, unable to see what was behind the surface. Teletraan I's screen flickered and shorted out, leaving him in the dimly lit room.
Whatever was behind that paneling was the cause of the signal interference. Jazz knew what it had to be, he just did not know how many. He adjusted his grip on his photon rifle and prepared to shoot the panel open and find out. As he aimed carefully at where he gauged to be the center of the noise, he regretted having to shoot at Teletraan I. But if he did not shoot it, the rest of the computer would become lunch.
Three quick, precise blasts opened up a section of the orange-gold housing. Something inside the machine moved in the flashes of light from the ruined circuitry, but then stopped when it saw the one who interrupted its meal. In an instant, the housing peeled away from the blast hole as a boll weevil Insecticon burst forth, the end of its chromed mandible coated with energon and pieces of broken computer chips.
Jazz instinctively backed away as the Decepticon emerged out of Teletraan I. The sight of it was surreal. How could Insecticons get in so thoroughly without any warning? This one must have chewed through the Teletraan's communication cables.
The Insecticon did not attack immediately, but instead stopped and lifted its long chromed snout, sensing Jazz. Jazz took the opportunity to aim his weapon for another shot, but it sensed the danger and leapt at him. He squeezed off a single shot, but it missed entirely, leaving a smoking black scar on the floor. Jazz struggled to remain standing as the Insecticon grabbed his limbs, tightening its grip and forcing his joints to flex. Several tense seconds passed before the Insecticon reared itself up in frustration and aimed its mandible at Jazz's chest plate.
Realizing that the big Decepticon bug was interested in going for his power, Jazz shifted his weight, forcing them to be overbalanced to one side. The maneuver worked perfectly, and the two crashed to the floor with the Insecticon pinned underneath Jazz, however his photon rifle slipped from his hand and clattered on the metallic floor.
Prone now, the Insecticon let go of Jazz long enough for Jazz to free himself and twist away from its grasp. As he turned away, he swiped his hand along the floor, collecting his photon rifle. Before the boll weevil could right itself, Jazz focused his aim on the underbody and fired rapidly. The Insecticon twitched under the first few shots as they penetrated its underbody. After another half dozen blasts, its appendages went slack, the mechanical components damaged so that it could no longer move.
The danger passed, Jazz held his fire and stood up tall. He coolly approached the Insecticon, which he knew to be a clone since it did not transform without a command from Bombshell. The clone's mandible clicked at him as he trained his weapon between its optics.
"Lights out," Jazz told it, and he squeezed the trigger.