Chapter 5

The high grade was vile, barely worthy of the name. But there was nothing to do in the pit but drink or sleep. Or talk—but they avoided that option. The pit was pitch black now, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning and the blue glow of the Autobot insignia on Ultra Magnus' chestplates. But they hardly provided sufficient illumination.

"You don't like me."

Magnus looked over and found a third source of light, the two red, alien eyes staring at him through the darkness.

"Don't spout nonsense, soldier."

Knock Out laughed; he sounded a little freer than usual, less controlled. "I wasn't complaining."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, so Ultra Magnus didn't try. He turned his gaze stolidly towards the tarp above, listening to the raindrops. To his right, he heard the nozzle of an energon pack being flipped open.

"You know what you are." An hour later, and Knock Out sounded serious. "I respect that."

Ultra looked down at the red mech. Knock Out's optics were over-bright, his red irises fuzzed slightly around the edges. He was not actually swaying. Yet.

According to the Autobot code, the correct procedure when an ally was inebriated, was to discourage him from drinking any more. According to that same handbook, the appropriate reaction to an inebriated enemy was to encourage them to drink more, so as to incapacitate them.

Ultra Magnus remained silent.

"Aren't you going to ask what you are?" Knock Out persisted. "I said you knew, but I thought you'd ask." When Magnus didn't reply, Knock Out answered anyway. "You're Second-in-Command."

"Mmm," Magnus responded to this factually correct statement. He stared straight ahead, although there was literally nothing to see; just the wall of a sandy pit that was invisible in the dark.

He could feel Knock Out's eyes on him. Staring.

"Aren't you going to ask what I am?"

"I know what you are, Knock Out."

"That's right." A rich chuckle filled the darkness. "You know."

"You're a medic," Ultra Magnus said.

"Yes." Two glowing red eyes. "I'm that too."

Knock Out gazed at the energon pak in his hand and made a face. "This is swill."

"You made it," Ultra Magnus said. Thanks to his larger frame he wasn't overcharged like Knock Out, but his systems were buzzing slightly. "You wouldn't have been breaking any more rules than you already were if you'd made it drinkable."

"It's drinkable. We've been drinking it, haven't we? Ergo, drinkable." Knock Out rested his head on his arms. "And I diiidn't have so much tiiime, you know." His drawl ended in a yawn. "Had to do it while no one was watching. Had to do it quickly."

"Nonsense. If you'd gone for quality over quantity—"

"But I needed quantity."

Magnus frowned at him.

"In case of emergencies," Knock Out said defensively, "like this one."

"Hmmm."

"Really! Swear on my spark. As soon as I heard you were taking me to the Heatsinks, I knew I'd need it."

"Why?"

"Well." The question seemed to throw Knock Out. His optics flickered uncertainly. "I just knew."

"You just knew. I see."

"I didn't know ex . . . exactly what would happen, but I looked it up—Traxian Heatsinks—and it was full of pits and things. And then you had the safety harness thing. So it must have been dangerous. That's logic, as Shockwave would say. I wanted to be prepared."

"You weren't prepared. You left most of your supplies behind, in direct violation of my orders."

"And it's a good thing I did, wasn't it? Besides, I took everything essential. Including the high grade. Just in case."

"You could have come to me." Ultra Magnus found his irritation at the smaller mech building. "If you felt extra rations were necessary, I could have—"

"Filled out the necessary paperwork," Knock Out murmured.

"—retrieved them myself from storage." He gave the smaller mech a stern look. "Furthermore we could have split the load proportionately."

"Perhaps," Knock Out said. "But . . ."

He picked up the shovel again to scrape at the ground.

"But what?" Ultra Magnus demanded.

Knock Out cast a glance up at him, then back down towards the sand he was digging. "Accidents happen, in the field."

"Accidents . . . happen," Ultra Magnus repeated, unimpressed.

"Right. But—if anything happened—at least I'd have high grade."

"You'd have high grade." Ultra Magnus knew he wasn't being entirely fair. Knock Out had shared his provisions and they would be in an extremely bad situation without the extra energon, high grade or not. But he was annoyed. The medic was going to come out of this thinking he could flout orders. "And while you were hoarding you illicit high grade, did it occur to you that I would be more at risk since you couldn't pull me out of a pit, but I could pull you out?"

"Yes . . . you could."

Ultra Magnus looked down sharply. Knock Out had left off digging and was twirling the head of the shovel in the sand, digging a little pit. With his head bowed, his face was hidden from Magnus, though the blue glow of the Autobot insignia cast highlights on the top of his helm.

"What kind of accidents," the Autobot Second-in-Command asked with deliberate slowness, "were you expecting?"

"Any kind. Sir." His claws twitched as he reached for another pack of high grade.

Before he could reach it, Ultra Magnus shut the supply pack and winched the straps shut. "I think you've had enough, soldier."

Knock Out didn't protest.

They fell first into silence, then into recharge.