The box is quiet. Still.
The Decepticons do not like it.
Actually, yes, they do, because that means there's no more being thrown against the walls. But it also means the aliens are planning something.
They tried to open the lid, but it didn't even bulge. It's either locked shut or has something really heavy on it.
So now, they're using the chance and what little tools they have to take care of themselves.
Starscream's welder isn't the best medical grade, but it's more than enough.
However, without the medical codes, there's only so much dialing down of his sensors that Soundwave can do.
Ravage is lying in front of him, nuzzling his tightly squeezed shivering fists with his snout, while the Seeker kneels by his side, bending the metal the pet monster pierced back into its somewhat proper place before soldering it.
Thrust, last he saw before he offlined his visor at the burning pain, was getting rid of the whitish gelatinous layer the cooled liquid left on his now heavily cracked plating with the aid of a couple of polishing rags and his own claws. Still, with his armor reinforced against hard impacts, his damage isn't as extensive as it could have been, thank Primus.
"Alright, we're done," Starscream finally says, voice soft and calm, though also tired, as he rests a servo on Soundwave's trembling arm. "There's nothing else I can do with what we have, but it should be enough to keep most of the dirt out of your internals. Try to refrain from strong hits, though," he adds, and while the Cassette Carrier nods, he doesn't move, trying to clear the echoing pain from his wiring and relax, so the Flier simply steps away, understanding. "Do you need help with that, Thrust?"
"Huh, yeah… I can't get to my back plating," the Conehead answers meekly, ashamed of what wouldn't be a weakness if he had his Trine, but too tired to refuse.
"Turn around."
By the time Soundwave feels like he can move again and onlines his visor, the two Seekers are cleaning their servos of the goo, the ruined polishing rags on a pile in a corner.
He gets to his knees slowly, Ravage purring happily as he presses against his abdominal plating and lets his carrier's servos roam over his frame to ascertain the damage is really mostly cosmetic.
"Query: Course of action," he asks at last, looking at his superior officer.
His visor pales in surprise when he finally takes a good look at Starscream.
The Seeker is, at a first glance, the least damaged of them all, with only some dents sustained during the disaster in the alien kid's room.
But his wings are bent inwards, the tips most noticeably, sporting their own dents and tiny bends of plating. Though, when seen from the side like Soundwave is doing now, it's too obvious that the previously perfectly flat planes are now curved towards the front.
It must be extremely painful, but Starscream just looks annoyed and slightly tired.
And resigned, for there is no way they can straighten them in their current situation.
"We get out of here and try to find some way to return to Earth," the Air Commander answers simply, and Soundwave pulls himself together after a nanoklik.
"That isn't much of a plan," Thrust points out, a grumble without much bite.
"Do you have anything better?" Starscream hisses, and the Conehead curls into himself a bit with a shake of his helm. "We're going to need the Autobots, if they haven't managed to get themselves caught too."
"The Autobots?!" Thrust squeaks, as startled as the other two, but Soundwave tilts his helm and nods after an instant of thought.
They're just four. The Autobots are five. Nine might not be too big a number, but working together, they should be able to keep at bay creatures like that pet, and even the fully-grown sentient aliens. That last scenario would attract too much attention, though, but at least it would be doable.
Plus, Perceptor and Starscream should be able to figure out some way to get them off the planet at the very least.
Besides, there's a reason none other than Megatron can fight Prime and come out with not too severe damage. And it isn't because their leader has ordered them to leave his Autobot counterpart to himself.
"Agreed," Soundwave answers after pondering, and Ravage nods after that.
Thrust is still uneasy, but he soon enough relents too, grumbling under his breath.
"They left us to be scrapped by those aliens."
"And wouldn't we have done the same?" Starscream points out, and the Conehead finally falls silent. "Let's focus on getting out of here as soon as possible. We'll deal with those Auto-dweebs once we're out of the aliens' hands."
Ravage nuzzles into the servos Soundwave still keeps on his back plates, and the Cassette Carrier tenses at the pang through the bond.
And even more at the realization it isn't something affecting just his creation.
"Suggestion: Locate energy source," he speaks up, attracting two pairs of optics, one red and the other yellow.
"Yeah, I'm kinda in need of refueling too," Thrust pipes up, nodding, and Starscream grimaces.
"How are your reserves?"
"Ravage: 46.2%. Soundwave: 48.15%."
"I'm at 55.7%."
"Frag-tastic," Starscream hisses, and startled at the curse, Soundwave tilts his head in curiosity, attracting the other officer's attention. "Skywarp made it up, so quit looking at me like that," he growls, and the Communications Officer straightens calmly. "Alright. Alright. Ravage, come over here," the Second in Command finally orders, calmer, and the Bestial lifts his helm off Soundwave's thigh, startled, but slowly obeys. "Here, bite on the main line, get your reserves at least at 50%," he adds, baring his wrist joint, offering his own Energon to refuel them.
"Are you glitched? You can't do that!"
"I'm at 73.3%, of course I can do that. Besides, Ravage is a Cassette, he won't take that much to get him at half his capacity," Starscream answers with a tiny snarl, daring Thrust to protest again. "He's the smallest of us and an expert spy. He's going to need some charge if he's to be useful. So, bite. My nanites can close the line once you're done."
Conflicted, Ravage looks back at his carrier, and Soundwave finds himself pushed in a tight spot.
On the one servo, he wants his creation to be safe, and being able to run by himself, at the very least, will allow that. But on the other hand, refueling from an online mech is—
Visor paling in realization, the Communications Officer looks up at the Air Commander.
"Starscream: Experienced," Soundwave says simply, and the darkening of red optics tells him his assumption is correct.
Starscream is older than the war and the corruption. And once upon a time, he had to deal with such dangerous environments and situations as they are in now, with only one other mech by his side.
Many explorers are known to deactivate in the coldness of space, far from Cybertron, while the survivors always have some interesting tales to tell… or that they refuse to be known.
He suspects it was usually the other way around, Shuttles have far larger reserves of Energon, after all. But still, Soundwave doesn't doubt there would have been times when Starscream gave up some of his energy so that they could take off planet, even if that meant having to take a ride back to Cybertron.
So, deciding to trust such experience, Soundwave simply nods and Ravage bites down on the Seeker's wrist joint.
Not for the first time since they were put in the box, there's sparkly pink light illuminating their prison. However, this time, it is quickly dimmed as the Cassette clamps his mouth shut around the cut line to ingest the Energon flowing out of it.
It's a… bizarre spectacle, disgusting and horrifying for Thrust, if his expression is anything to go by. But Starscream's calm and Ravage's relief are more than enough to keep Soundwave relaxed.
Soon enough, the Bestial pulls back, lapping at the Energon-stained wound so that his intake fluid coats it and blocks the energy flow as it solidifies, even if only for long enough for the repair nanites to do their job.
"Levels?" Starscream asks, resting his forearm on his knee with as little movement as possible so as to not jar the damaged line.
"51.2%," Ravage answers calmly, only returning to Soundwave's side after receiving a nod from their commanding officer.
And then, red optics meet red visor, and the Energon-stained wrist joint is lifted in an offering.
Soundwave recoils as if struck.
"Oh, don't give me that. Same procedure, at least 50%, and don't you dare refuse. We're going to need your communications capabilities, and you still have Cassettes in there to take care of, don't you?"
Slag.
The Autobots and no few Decepticons may say what they want about Starscream, but the glitch knows what he's doing more times than it may seem so.
Soundwave could've easily refused the offer of Energon by simply pointing out the Seeker's flight capabilities will be needed too, and that he can still perform his function with just 48.15% of his reserves. But now, he can't.
Because Starscream has struck at the only thing Soundwave can't nor won't blind his sensors to.
His creations.
Frenzy, Rumble, Buzzsaw, and Ratbat are still in his chest compartment. While they're safe and sound despite the damage to it, they are still linked to his systems, depending on Soundwave to keep functioning at their best, and without the option of ejecting until their carrier is repaired.
With the self-repair queue Soundwave's dealing with, their future escape, and who knows how many difficulties awaiting them, something as simple as slipping some Energon to his recharging Cassettes may become dangerous for them all.
Conclusion? He needs his levels lifted.
Meaning, he has to accept the Air Commander's offer.
"Starscream: Energy levels," Soundwave asks instead, fighting back the urge to just grab that arm and start ingesting Energon.
He knows he'll succumb to it, but that doesn't mean he won't take into account his fellow Decepticon's needs when doing so.
"71%," Starscream answers simply, and without a second thought, Soundwave moves forward to kneel in front of the Air Commander, lowering his helm before retracting his facemask and biting on the pierced line.
Energon starts flowing almost immediately, warm and tingling with charge from the frame it's coming out of.
Keeping back a moan of bliss, Soundwave can only wonder if that is how his creations feel like when they refuel from his specialized lines while in his chest compartment.
A nanoklik later, as he finally notices the rise in his energy levels, he forces himself back to the present.
He has to look out not only for his own gauges, but for Starscream's too. Even though he knows the Second in Command will push him away long before he can do any kind of damage.
As soon as his systems report reaching 50.3% of his levels, Soundwave pulls back, repeating the same licking routine Ravage performed to give Starscream's self-repair some more time without losing too much Energon.
His mask is back in place even before he fully straightens, slowly guiding the blue forearm to lie on a white thigh, and analyzing it intently to make sure there's no further damage than the tiny cuts already sealing.
"You could have taken more, you know," Starscream points out calmly, resting against the wall of the box and looking at Soundwave without any defined emotion on his faceplate.
"Negative. Suggestion: Prioritize location of energy source," he answers with the same seriousness, returning the look with slight defiance.
After all, they do need his flying abilities.
And Starscream knows it, for he simply nods and looks at Thrust.
"I'm fine," the Conehead rushes to reassure, lifting his servos as if to stop a blow, clearly unnerved.
"So be it. Let's be ready, our best bet… No, they will be expecting us to rush out as soon as they open the box," the Air Commander muses tiredly, and all the others look away.
Yes, they will. But do they have any other choice? After all, if it isn't as soon as there's an opening, they will be caught in those organic servos again, and who knows what will happen to them?
"Only chance: Try," Soundwave finally puts in, and the other three nod, knowing that as well as he does.
"Let's rest then. We'll strike together as soon as there's enough space for us to break out. Thrust, you will carry Ravage, I will take Soundwave," Starscream orders, and knowing his lower energy levels will decrease slower with the smaller weight of the Cassette than that of his carrier, the Conehead murmurs an agreement.
Then, they all settle down to rest their systems and slow energy consumption, Ravage curling on Soundwave's lap in search of comfort.
Now, all they can do is wait.
The drawer is dark and uncomfortably big and empty. So, all the Autobots stay together, having returned to their root modes as soon as Inferno was tossed back with them and their prison closed.
There was a soft click not long after that, and they know they're locked in.
So, now they just sit and wait, wondering if their new ally will really be able to get them out of this.
"What do you think happened with the Decepticons?" Bumblebee asks, the question having plagued him for quite some time now, as he turns to Prime.
Optimus just looks back before humming under his breath.
"They're likely to be trapped, just as we are," he finally answers, and the Minibot nods before silence falls again.
"Do you think Aron will get us out?" Bumblebee asks once more, unable to keep quiet now that he's started.
"He seemed to like us well enough," Inferno replies this time, shrugging. "We saved his dollhouse from burning up, after all."
"Do you believe Starscream was trying to ask for a truce?"
Silence, and all optics turn to Perceptor in surprise.
The scientist looks them over before gesturing with one hand.
"At the dollhouse. He didn't shoot first."
"He blew up the Energon cubes!"
"After we started shooting."
Bumblebee tilts his head as he looks back on the event. They had been startled by the Decepticon's sudden appearance at their backs, and before they could think anything about it, they had all opened fire.
"He followed us out too. If he wanted to avoid a confrontation, why not leave the way he'd come instead?" the scout adds, and the optics are on him this time.
"You may have a point there. Plus, the Cons were having their afts handed back to them," Smokescreen muses, looking at the ground as he taps his chin with a dactyl.
"Soundwave sounded pretty scared when he was being chased by Nitro," Bumblebee whispers, shivering at the memory of the usually toneless voice crackling with fear.
"I would've been too. It must have been a fearsome experience," Perceptor agrees, shuddering with his plating fluffing out. "And Aron wasn't exactly gentle with them. Do you think they may be damaged?"
"Please, don't tell me you're worrying about the Decepti-creeps," Inferno cuts with a grimace. "They got what they deserved, and who cares if they're damaged? They're the enemy!"
"But we're all trapped on an alien planet where we're nothing more than toys to the natives," the scientist answers calmly, lifting a dactyl to accentuate his point. "Or food for their pets."
"You may be right there, Perceptor. Perhaps a temporary alliance until we return to Earth could be the right course of action," Prime rumbles, nodding as if to himself as he looks over his mechs. "When next we encounter the Decepticons—"
"If," Inferno cuts almost morosely, and their leader sighs with optics darkening at such a possibility.
"If we encounter the Decepticons again, we should try to reason with them before fighting once more. Perceptor, do you believe you may need Starscream's expertise?"
"I couldn't say right now, Prime, but for that very same reason I must say yes. Without even an inkling of how we're going to return to Earth, we need all available mechs. Soundwave will be useful too."
"And where Soundwave goes, Ravage follows. We could use Thrust's flight capabilities too," Smokescreen agrees, and soon after, all Autobots nod.
"Very well. Should we encounter the Decepticons once more, and their joining us represent no danger, we must try to talk them into a truce," Optimus orders, and the others immediately answer affirmatively.
And then, their prison trembles and a click sounds from outside.
Prime lifts a servo to still them, so, when their drawer is pulled out and flooded with light, all the Autobots do is cover their optics until they recalibrate.
In the brief time that takes, large organic hands grab them, slamming them together as they lift them before letting them fall. This time, their new prison is a transparent though strong box.
There are pained yelps at the impact and at having their comrades fall on them. As Bumblebee wrenches himself out from under his leader, he feels a flash of pity towards the Decepticons. Only Primus knows how many times they were thrown into a box to land one over the other.
The see-through lid shuts with another click, blocking them from the outside world.
The being holding their prison is unknown, but the Minibot can see Aron and his parents standing at the side. Another unknown alien is taking the purple box the other Cybertronian are in from the female-like one's hands.
Darkness engulfs them once more as their prison is put, along the Decepticons', into yet another larger box for transport to who knows where.
Trying to keep his apprehension at bay, Bumblebee moves closer to Prime. It isn't just so that the larger mech can help him keep his balance as they are moved around, but none of them comments on that.
After all, every one of them has moved closer to the rest.
Bumblebee wonders if the Decepticons are in a similar situation, giving the purple box a quick look.
It seems to take them an eternity for the movement to stop, only tense silence exchanged between them. When the larger box is opened, two aliens reach for the Cybertronians' prisons to pull them out.
The room is large, metallic.
Cold, sterile, ominous.
A laboratory.
"Optimus?" Bumblebee whispers, worried and trying to keep his fear at bay, and the servo on his shoulder plate tenses its grip a bit in reassurance.
"These are hazardous-unsafe," Aron's male-like parent points out, gesturing to the purple box, and only then does the Minibot realize the alien kid is there, held at bay by his mother's hands on his shoulders.
"We will watch over them," the authoritative one, wearing the same deep green uniform as the ones holding the Cybertronians, answers before gesturing for the boxes to be left on the table in front of him. "Request follow Yayan for purification."
And to Bumblebee's despair, one of the guards guides the small family out of the room, Aron giving the Autobots a worried look before the door closes behind him.
"Aw, slag," Smokescreen hisses, standing tense next to Inferno, both of them hovering over a worried Perceptor.
"Prime?" Bumblebee whispers once more, this time unable to keep his unease hidden from his trembling voice.
"Calm down. We may be able to reason with them yet."
The guard opens the Decepticons' box – and blaster fire throws him on his back with a pained yelp.
"Or not," Inferno grimaces, watching the Seekers fly out of their prison while carrying Soundwave and Ravage.
Thrust fires at the apparent leader as he reaches for them. However, the glove seems to protect the alien from the sting of his weapons, because he doesn't even flinch.
Still, Fliers are hard to catch once airborne.
It doesn't mean the guard using his beret as some kind of fly-swatter isn't effective in smashing them back to the table.
Bumblebee can't hold back his horrified cry at the crash. He can't do more than stare in disbelief, optics pale, as Soundwave tremulously gets back to his pedes, hovering over an immobile Starscream, only to release a screech of despair as he's caught by a gloved three-fingered hand.
Ravage immediately jumps to his creator's aid, both Seekers slowly getting to their knees with cracked plating and splatters of pink. They're all easily caught and restrained, the aliens disregarding their pained and infuriated shrieks and growls.
"Prime—!"
But the door opens and the third guard comes back inside, and their chance is lost.
So, Bumblebee can only watch in fear as the Decepticons are restrained to the table with tiny clamps on their wrist and ankle joints. He can only stare as Thrust howls when the cracked cockpit inflicted by Ironhide back on Earth is finally broken – or did that happen before, back in the house, and they never noticed?
Soundwave's visor flickers as he's pressed on his pink-stained back against the table. Ravage bites the glove-covered hand immobilizing him, only to end with an Energon-dripping mouth as he's ripped off the cloth. Starscream arcs in a silent cry as he's finally released to be chained to the table, his right wing bent and his left twisted in a poor mimicry of a lightning bolt.
"Optimus…" Bumblebee whimpers, shamelessly pressing against his leader.
These aliens aren't Aron. They aren't a kid that acts out of lack of knowledge and that would immediately claim to be friends with the Autobots just because they kept his dollhouse safe. These are adults, scientists, who intend to know all about them and won't be tricked by some carefully placed sounds.
The scans begin, the sampling, and Bumblebee feels grateful that their captors seem so backwards in thinking. They look only at their frames and take only the spilt Energon to examine, instead of prodding and pulling their specimens apart. It doesn't matter that said specimens are Decepticons, the Minibot still wouldn't wish that on them.
The alien leader leans closer with some kind of magnifying glass, and Starscream snarls.
"Get away from us, you green-faced fool!" he shrieks, words distorted and intermingling with static, and Bumblebee winces at the sound.
The alien chuckles.
"Spirited little creature-many, are they?" he simply says, and the Minibot whimpers.
They're just experiments.
Samples.
When they're done with the Decepticons, the Autobots will be next.
He hasn't heard the door opening, but Aron's voice sounds suddenly from behind them. Bumblebee hopes.
"What are they? Where did they come from?" the father asks with curiosity and worry, and oh, if only they could talk…
One of the green-uniformed aliens pokes at Ravage, and the Cassette twists his helm back as much as possible to try to bite the stick, roaring menacingly as he does so. The scientist doesn't even look impressed.
"Good, we do-negative know. I believe we will have to cut them apart to know."
"No!" Thrust shouts, fighting against his restraints as hard as he can, along the rest of Decepticons, as the alien brings out some kind of circular razor.
"Cut them apart? You mean to cut them open?" Aron exclaims, as startled as the Cybertronians, and the scientist just nods.
"That-be correct. We have to discover-detect what motivates their behavior."
And the razor starts to spin.
"Optimus!"
Before they can act, there's a ruckus of voices and darkness around them as their box is shaken around—
Jostled by the movement and the crashing against walls and one another, the Autobots can only yelp and hold onto the first thing they can grab until the tremors stop.
When they look up, they see a grayish-yellow sky flecked with bluish and reddish clouds, and a blue-green bush-like gigantic thing at one side. Aron's face hovers over them as his pink-clad arms hug their cage close to his chest.
They're outside. The kid has saved them.
And the 'bad' Decepticons were left in the lab.
"Male child, are we in distress now," the alien whispers, finally looking down at the Cybertronian as he moves to a more comfortable position.
Another voice calls Aron's name, and with a jolt, the box is moved to be hidden at the kid's back as he nervously converses with the obnoxious newcomer.
As the alien is forced back by what sounds like a thuggish peer, the Autobots exchange worried and questioning looks.
There's a red-marked white oval thing almost against their cage, with a flap-covered entrance.
Without an instant of hesitation, Optimus takes his riffle out of subspace and shoots the lock of their prison, easily lifting the lid as he straightens so that the others can jump into the unknown.
Into a trashcan.
Alien world or not, it's easy to recognize garbage.
Walking carefully, they regroup, each asking what they're going to do now without exchanging a word.
The flap moves, something falls down—
Tripping over who knows what, Bumblebee can only cover his helm with his arms with a startled cry—
And ends up covered by some kind of… goo.
Shivering in disgust, he slowly stands up, brushing away as much of the gelatinous whitish substance as he can.
The flap opens again and all Autobots tense—
Only to recognize the face looking down at them as Aron's.
"You man-fellow-many satisfactory in there?" he asks, reaching with a hand to grab them maybe a bit more forcefully than any of them enjoys.
"Next time I hold a human, I'm going to ask if they're comfortable," Inferno grunts, trying to move his helm away from where Perceptor's shoulder cannon is pressing against it.
"Male child, are you lucky. That man-fellow would have set his foot on you free from doubt. Marty is the most nasty man-fellow in the universe," the alien adds, and Bumblebee and Smokescreen exchange an amused look.
"He's never met up with Megatron," the Doorwinger snickers, the Minibot soon mimicking him, to their handler's obvious confusion.
But that brings another, less funny topic back to the present.
Because Megatron is the leader of the Decepticons, and still on Earth. But some of his mechs are not.
They're back at the lab.
"Do you think the Cons are alright?" Bumblebee whispers, and the sad look on Prime's faceplate is more than enough answer.
UPDATED 09/01/2023: Corrected grammar.
AN: And we get to see things from the Autobots' point of view (not my fault it took so long, they didn't want to collaborate).
Yes, Aron's family was taken away for decontamination, though not for long. I thought it weird that they were allowed to stay and watch, but then I reasoned that maybe it was a way to quarantine them, just in case the Cybertronians carried germs or something (they say as much themselves).