Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I only own my OCs. Ask before you take.

"Carrying" belongs to Litahatchee. (BTW, Lita - HAH. ANOTHER ONE.)

I have a poll up in my bio. Y'all get to pick what kind of smut y'all want me to write. Have at it.

Warnings: Lots of blood...er. Energon. And angst. Lots of the latter.

Emirate shuffled around his cell, turning his nasal plates up at the uncomfortable looking recharge berth. He knew that Prime had rewritten the Book of Codes. None of that mattered now. Once he had Chromia on his ship, all he had to do was order the drones to free him and they would leave. Emirate had done a careful scan of the base before landing – Prime had three space-capable ships, though none of them were battle operative. His ship was a warship-turned-luxury-liner. He had kept all of the weapons systems and such, but had disguised them as parts of the ship.

Emirate could not praise the mech he had conned into redesigning the ship. For the work to have been forced out of someone, it was the best the mech could do. The ship was luxurious – oil baths on every floor, gilded elevators, and viewing screens in every room. Not to mention the femme he had bought – she was a piece of artwork all in herself. Gold strips decorated the femme's beautifully proportioned body and lithe limbs. Her face was rather plain, but that didn't matter because it wasn't her face he was interested in.

He finally took a seat in one of the chairs, propping his feet up. Emirate turned his communicator on and watched as his drone transmitted live video feed. Ah, they were in a party. Too bad it was too dim for them to notice the drone, Emirate thought victoriously. He slouched in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head.

The show was about to begin.

The spindly silver drone hid in the rafters, watching as mechs and femmes passed underneath its hiding spot. It beeped quietly once it saw its target – the blue femme. The blue femme picked up a cube of high grade and went back to where she had been sitting. The femme excused herself from the group and left the party, heading out of the hangar. The drone slipped after her silently, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

She paused in the hallway and turned around, seemingly sensing something behind her. She saw nothing and continued on her way. The cube in her hand glinted temptingly, but the drone knew it had to wait, otherwise its master would be very, very unhappy with it. The femme disappeared into a room. The drone followed close behind and immediately leapt behind a pillar. Its scans indicated that this room of the facility was the recreation-and-refueling area. The drone waited until she had set her high grade down to move. It dropped the pellet into the drink and hid once more.

The femme grumbled quietly and flicked the light on.

That is the wrong femme! You've wasted the last of the abortive agent, you foolish piece of scrap metal!

But the orders came too late – the femme had already picked up the cube of high grade and drunk from it.

Nightshade grimaced from the bitter swig of the high grade. What had Sunstreaker and Sideswipe added to the mixture? Whatever it was, it was nasty. She tossed the rest of the high grade into a bin and reached for a spare cube. She had planned on getting Ratchet some of the high grade from their quarters, but energon seemed good enough at the moment. Besides, she was hungry.

Nightshade smiled. It had been a very long time since they had all let loose and had fun, hadn't it? Primus only knew how much Red Alert needed the break – he was juggling two jobs! She shook her head slightly, reaching up to pull the lever to fill her cube. Sudden pain lanced across her abdomen, but before she could move, it disappeared. Nightshade planted her hand over her carrying tank, her spark fluttering in fear. Her sparkling was still pulsating away happily. She breathed a sigh of relief, pulling the lever on the energon dispenser.

The door to the rec room opened. She heard three very familiar voices – two were arguing, the third was begging them to stop. She turned to the voices, a smirk on her face. Elita and Chromia were at it again, sniping at one another as only sisters could. Epsilon froze in her tracks, her optics wide.

"Hello, you three. What are you up to," Nightshade asked teasingly, taking a sip of her energon. Chromia and Elita turned her way, but they too froze upon seeing her.

"What's the matter? Why are you staring at me?"

"Nightshade…," Epsilon breathed, her optics wide in horror.

Elita and Chromia had frozen in their spots. It was then that she felt the warmth sliding down her legs. Her spark frozen in its casing, she glanced down. The energon cube in her hand dropped to the floor and shattered into tiny pieces when she saw what the femmes were gaping at.

Energon was steadily pouring from the gaps in the sheets on her abdomen, dripping down onto her legs. Sudden, agonizing pain shot across her abdomen, unbearable heat spreading across her body. She cried out, clutching at her abdomen. The sparkling was pulsating erratically, letting its distress be known. At her cry of pain, Elita and Chromia darted forwards, slipping slightly in the puddle of energon surrounding their friend.

"Nightshade, oh, Primus," Chromia cried out, her systems on high alert, "Call Ratchet, Epsilon!"

"Get…Red…and Moon Racer…," Nightshade managed to gasp out, struggling not to scream in agony. Elita and Chromia, while confused by the request, assumed that Ratchet already knew. They were bonded, after all. Elita wrapped an arm around the femme's waist, trying to lead her to the medical bay.

Prowl and Ratchet had been discussing something or another, nothing of great importance. The party was quiet, anxiety and tension thickening the air and subduing the party-goers. Emirate's trial was tomorrow. Tomorrow they would find out whether or not the mech would be punished. Tommorow they would find out if Ironhide would finally have his chance to right what wrongs Emirate had commited against Chromia. Prowl jumped slightly when Ratchet dropped his barrel of high grade. Prowl barely had time to react when the mech suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest.

The pain that consumed his spark was absolutely agonizing. Ratchet hardly registered the Prowl was asking him if he was alright, asking him what was the matter, asking him if he needed assistance. Ratchet cried out as the pain intensified. He couldn't feel Nightshade through the bond. He couldn't feel the sparkling.

The sparkling.

He tried to get to his feet, tried to get to his sparkling, but the sheer agony sent him back down. Ratchet continued struggling against Prowl's grasp, struggling to get to his mate and fix whatever was going wrong. His spark was in turmoil, alternating between ice-cold fear and hot anger, but he couldn't think straight - what was happening? Why was their bond getting foggy? Why was their sparkling so distressed? Ratchet's intake fans momentarily stopped as he clutchd his chest with both hands tightly, so tightly that he scraped some of his paint off. Nightshade's pain intensified. Her spark started to flutter, dimming and brightening. She was crashing.

"Ratchet, you've got to put a firewall up and tell me what is the matter," Prowl said, shaking Ratchet from the pain-induced fog surrounding his spark. Ratchet threw up a haphazardly coded firewall. The code began to break down almost instantly.

"Medical bay, now," Ratchet whispered hoarsely, allowing Ironhide to help him to his feet. Together, Prowl and Ironhide managed to drag Ratchet to his feet and haul him to the medical bay.

Moon Racer's panicked transmission jolted Red Alert from his recharge sequence. The mech leapt from the recharge berth, sending Inferno flat on his aft onto the ground.

" – Oh Primus, Red Alert, I need you in the medical bay, she's lost so much energon – "

"What's going on," Red Alert asked, his spark all but freezing in its casing as he ran out of the room.

"Someone poisoned Nightshade," Moon Racer sobbed out, "I don't know what to do, Red Alert, I just don't know – "

"Is she there? I'm in the west wing right now, about a minute out – "

"I saw her a minute ago, I'm preparing a room for her, Red Alert, what do I do?"

"Calm down, first of all. You need to keep her firewalls up, no matter what it takes. Do you understand?"

Though confused by his order, she nodded slowly. Why would her firewalls need to be up? What would her antiviral programs attack? She shook the thoughts away and spoke into her comm. line. Red Alert knew what he was doing. She had to trust him.

"Y-yes, of course. What else do I need to do?"

"You need to start flushing her systems. Start with her energon lines. Once those are started, move to the oil lines and buffer fluids."

"Red, she could die…"

"If you keep her firewalls up, she'll have a fighting chance. Now get your aft in motion, Moon Racer! You're a trained medic – act like it."

"Yes, sir."

"Frag – I'll be a few minutes. Gotta get Ratchet up on his feet."

"What – "

The line clicked off. Static poured from the open line. Moon Racer shook where she stood. What was she going to do? Epsilon burst into the room, holding the door open as Chromia and Elita carried Nightshade into the room. Moon Racer steeled herself – she had a friend to save.

"Epsilon, get me energon out of storage. You two - set her down there," Moon Racer barked out. Epsilon disappeared into storage and began searching for emergency energon rations. After a few moments of frenzied searching, Epsilon found a full box. She pushed the crate into the room. She took up post beside Moon Racer, opening the bags and handing them to her. After they had set up a few lines, Moon Racer leaned down to speak gently into Nightshade's audio receptor.

"Nightshade? Listen to me. You need to keep your firewalls up. Your antiviral programs are running haywire at the moment. Keep your firewalls up," Moon Racer said. She dug around near Nightshade's fuel tank, searching for the main line leading away from the tank. The poison was concentrated in her fuel tanks and spreading through the fuel lines quickly. Rerouting the line out of her body would keep the poison from spreading any further.

Moon Racer clamped the processing line where it branched off. Then she cut the line, soldering it to a few yards of rubber tubing. The end dangled into a barrel she had dragged close by. Moon Racer flinched when she saw the thick, viscous liquid pour from the end. The purple fluid dribbled into the barrel. She'd been given something potent. Moon Racer bit her lip and steadied herself. Someone really wanted Nightshade dead. Luckily, the femme had ingested very little of the poison. It became easier for Nightshade to keep her firewalls up as the tainted fluids were flushed out of her body.

"Elita, get over here and solder those emergency energon lines to these lines. I need to get the lubricants flushed from her system," Moon Racer said, motioning to Elita. Elita's optics widened and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Don't you dare argue with me, Elita. I know you're trained in basics. Get your aft over here, now," Moon Racer snarled quietly, her hands moving over the exposed lines in Nightshade's neck. The femme was hovering in and out of stasis lock, but she was determined to keep her sparkling alive. Now that the poisons were being flushed from her body, her systems were starting to relent. The antiviral programs were starting to shut down now that her body knew it wasn't being attacked any more. Her sparkling would be safe for now. Nightshade let her head drop back onto the table. It was getting so hard to keep her thoughts straight. So hard.

Ratchet reached to her through the bond and she reached back weakly, sending him a short burst of love before she shut down, unable to keep the bond open anymore.

Moon Racer gave Nightshade's lubricant lines the same treatment. The normally royal blue lubrication fluid was now pitch black. It fairly oozed from her lines, thickened by metallic toxins. Moon Racer hovered nervously, doing her best to keep Nightshade's optics open and running. The femme was starting to crash.

"Chromia, get more lubricant from the storage room. They should be in the white box on the floor," Moon Racer said, setting up the last bag she had. Chromia nodded and hurried into storage. There were at least thirty unmarked boxes on the floor!

"Which white box? There are so many in here."

"The one labeled as lubrication fluid – what do you mean? That room should be empty! Never mind, get it over here," Moon Racer said. Ratchet had probably ordered extra supplies. She didn't need to worry about the extra boxes at the moment.

Red Alert arrived not a breem later with the three mechs behind him. He leapt into action immediately. He shooed everyone but Ratchet out of the room. Then he began mixing an accelerant cocktail. Ratchet spluttered.

"Red Alert! What are you doing?! You can't administer accelerant while she's carrying!"

"I know I can't. Go get the sparkling's shell. I'm going to induce labor before her systems crash," Red Alert said quietly. Ratchet swore loudly, shaking his head.

"No! She'll be three months early, the sparkling won't survive the transfer," Ratchet said, flailing his arms and generally panicking.

"Her spark is failing as it is, Ratchet. If her systems crash while she's carrying, you'll lose them both," Red Alert said gently, watching as his friend's face fell.

"Is there anything you can do for our sparkling?"

Red Alert tore his gaze away from Ratchet's pleading glance. He shook his head.

"If it is strong enough to survive the birth, it will have a good chance of surviving. Otherwise…I'm sorry," Red Alert said quietly, doing his best to remain distant and professional However, Red Alert couldn't help but to reach to his friend. Ratchet had suffered so much in his life. Now he was on the verge of losing his mate and sparkling.

"I'll do everything in my power, Ratchet," Red Alert said quietly before sterilizing his hands in a nearby sink.

Ratchet could not speak.

(ducks bricks, books, computer monitors, throwing darts)

Yeah, yeah. Throw whatever you want, but make it creative. I need a laugh right about now.