Duty and Deceit
Chapter 38
Road to Recovery
"No."
She glared at Dreadwing over her mask, and then turned to Skyquake, opening her mouth to protest, but the green jet cut her off before she could start. "No, Major Terabyte. You have gone too far this time. It's past time you faced some of the consequences for your insubordinate actions. Megatron is awaiting your presence, femme."
The Prussian blue and black femme's jaw dropped, a betrayed expression creeping onto her hidden faceplates. Sky never pulled rank on her! It was very clear that doing so was painful for him, so painful that even Dreadwing's faceplates had gone tight. But, still! This could cost her her whole career! And if she got demoted or excommunicated - well, for one thing, excommunication would likely get the DJD on her case, meaning her termination - she'd never get to exact justice for what they, the Autobots, did to her home.
Surely Skyquake was aware of all this? She blinked her optics, rebooting them to confirm that it really was her friend speaking. Anger and hurt welled up in her, her cooling fans kicking in to cool her agitated frame, "Do you have any idea what this could mean?"
Sky always backed her. Until now.
The mech winced, his hand twitching back towards his wings. She remembered several occasions in which he'd returned with lashes on his wings - the most sensitive equipment a Cybertronian could ever have - but he'd told her it had happened in battle. Her mind was too firmly loyal to the Decepticons to put the pieces together.
A brief look of horror crossed his face as he considered that he may be ordered to deal her punishment. By the time the femme would have noticed it though, Skyquake had replaced the expression with the stern glare of a disappointed commander.
"It should mean that you will consider the consequences of your actions next time you think about walking blindly into the enemy's stronghold and capital." His tone softened and he looked at her with pleading ruby optics, "Tera, you could have gotten yourself offlined out there. I'm just trying to protect you. I hope you realize that."
She glared up at him, her tone sour, "Do have a lovely cycle. Sir."
Spinning on her heel, the femme stormed out, her helm held high. She ignored the muffled sound of Skyquake yelling at Dreadwing behind her. And the way his deep voice was filled with pained static.
Her helm was still held high as she entered the Lord Protector's throne room. Bowing respectfully to the huge silver warlord, his second-in-command, and the silent shadow that was Soundwave, the femme addressed her leader. Her tone, gaze, and expression were held carefully neutral. "I received... orders stating that you wished to see me, my lord?"
"Yes," The warlord drawled, a frighteningly anticipatory grin splitting his faceplates to reveal jagged fangs, "Yes, I merely wished to enquire as to why your post was left seemingly abandoned for a full orn?"
Taking a deep vent, the femme's outward appearance showed none of the fear she felt. Again she silently thanked her past self for making Alpha Trion give her the mask. Her spark pulse sped up. The Lord Protector was rumored to be outright deadly when he spoke with such formal civility and politeness.
A polite, grinning Megatron did not bode well for her career.
"I did take an unexpected period of leave this previous orn, my lord." She responded, her words measured. It wouldn't do to flat-out lie to the mech... but selective vocabulary could prove useful.
"Unexpected, indeed." Starscream sneered, hovering at Megatron's side. "I here Iacon is a wonderful vacation area this time of vorn."
Her armor shrank down nearly imperceptibly before she flared it back out to its normal position - which was in fact a good bit further than relaxed - to ensure that she didn't appear small or vulnerable before her Lord Protector. Appearances were everything in this army. If a mech maintained a satisfactorily strong front, their chances of advancement in the ranks were highly increased. So she almost never relaxed her armor. At this point, relaxing completely was almost difficult for her.
She didn't deem it worth her bother to wear out her vocs in petty banter with the Air Commander, so the femme simply awaited Lord Megatron's next words, earning a snubbed huff from the SIC.
"I must admit you have gall, femme." The silver warlord commented with a light undertone of... respect was too strong a word, though it came close. "To so openly defy my direct orders in such a manner, then stand before me mere joors after your offense without the slightest bit of apprehension." Megatron paused for his praise and accusation to sink in, he shrugged his large, pointed shoulders, "Either that or you're just stupid."
Still, the Prussian blue and black spy gave no outward reaction to his words. However, she had to repress a shudder at the dark glare Soundwave sent the warlord. The purple full-face visor did little to hide that look.
Megatron just laughed in his low, growling bass. "Though I doubt that is the case, considering the great amount of faith my head of the CI division holds in your regard."
"I believe you mentioned that I defied your direct orders, my lord?" The spy questioned stiffly, her processors meanwhile scanning her memory files for any orders she received from the warlord and pulling a blank. All of her orders went through Soundwave. Simultaneously, she set her logic processors to finding a way out of this with the least damage done to her rank and position.
His red optics hardened, narrowing, the conversational tone levelling dangerously, "Yes. I do recall mentioning something to that effect. Care to tell me why, femme?"
"I..." She hesitated, trying to find words that wouldn't be detrimental to her case. Why couldn't Skyquake have just backed her up on this like all the times before? "I do not know, my lord."
"You left your post, femme." He said flatly, "Without permission, you abandoned your post. When I personally branded you with the mark of my army, what did I tell you?"
Her processors dug out that file, causing her shoulder wheels to fall minutely, "'You are now a Decepticon and have sworn to never abandon your post or your faction for any reason. You have sworn to bring... justice... to those who have wronged this world with their corrupt reign.'"
"Sworn to never abandon your post." The warlord repeated with a sneer. He twirled a datapad around in his servos. "You haven't exactly kept that promise in the past four vorns, have you?"
She looked down at her pedes for a moment, "Negative, sir."
"You will-" Soundwave stepped forward, cutting the Lord Protector off. The silver warlord's optics narrowed as the purple mech sent a private comm. "- wait."
She watched them stare at each other with dimmed optics, indicating silent communication. Several expressions went over the Lord Protector's face. Anger. Disgust. Skepticism. Amusement. Annoyance.
The spy's spark was tight in her chest and her tanks rolled uncomfortably in anxiety as she awaited her judgement. She hadn't ever really thought the whole sneaking-away-for-vengeance-in-the-night thing all the way through. She'd never even considered that Sky wouldn't back her up, so she'd never considered what consequences she might face for her insubordination.
"It is decided." Megatron announced, sounding particularly dissatisfied with the decision. "You will be removed from all active field duty from this orn forward, unless otherwise ordered by Soundwave or myself, to serve under Soundwave in the CI department in any way he sees fit." The Lord Protector snarled this last bit in an unspoken threat. With a wave of his hand, the mech leaned back in his throne.
"Dismissed."
Previously on Duty and Deceit...
"Terabyte?" Raf asked hopefully, tilting his head at her. "Are you..."
Daintly lips quirking up into a little smile, she suggested, "Still an evil madmech?"
"No, Cliffjumper. I deserve to be punished for my treachery." She bit out, her tone venomous. "I became everything I spent this whole war thinking I was fighting against; don't keep me from justice."
"From what I can tell, you are a long way from being a monster, Terabyte." He paused. Lightly touching her hand, Bumblebee continued softly, "And in all your vorns with the Decepticons... No matter what you did in that time... I don't think you've ever been a monster."
Ratchet hummed, leaving his work on the terminals to face them now. "I do not wish to falsely rally anyone's hopes... but these equations appear to be the formula for synthetic Energon."
Two days later.
"Intersection of atomic coordinates indicate convergent tertiary structures..." Bulkhead muttered to himself, brushing the paint-soaked mop over the metal slabs the Bots had drug in from one of the cargo bays.
Stacked beside her large green guardian were several huge cans of white paint. Littered all over the bridge room were empty cans that he'd carelessly pitched over his shoulder as he worked. Miko leaned over the railing to look down at him impatiently, letting out a sigh.
It was Saturday! There was a monster truck rally just outside of Jasper, a Slash Monkey concert in New York they could bridge to... For that matter, they could just go dune-bashing. Instead, she was sitting here bored out of her brains, with Bulkhead spewing a bunch of scientific/mathematical mumbo jumbo.
"The absolute value of x minus z to the ninth power is equal to 9.32600033471% of-"
Arcee and Bumblebee slid the filled sheet of iron away, revealing yet another behind it. Bulkhead didn't even skip a beat, simply continuing to slap away with the mop. Miko groaned, ready to just be done with it all and get her Bulkhead back. "Aren't you done yet?!"
The ex-Wrecker didn't even acknowledge that she'd spoken. "-resulting in an asymmetric-"
Miko shook her pink pig-tails and tuned out her guardian's rambling, stomping off towards Terabyte and Arcee's quarters. She wasn't sure how long she could put up with Bulkhead being like this. How had she survived in Jasper, Nevada before she met Bulk?
She needed a distraction.
Ratchet looked at Optimus, his expression grave. Pulling up the scan of Bulkhead's processors from before, he spoke, "This is Bulkhead's neural net as you saw earlier."
The medic pulled up a new image, resulting in some self-satisfied beeping from the terminal as the download from his medical scanner to the cpu completed. The image showed the hotspot from before nearly tripled in size. "This scan was recorded just minutes ago."
"It is as I feared." Optimus agreed, nodding regally.
"The data seems to be actively and aggressively rewriting Bulkhead's neural net..." He sighed, glancing at the sheets of formula that he'd spent the past two days recording. "I had hoped he was purging the data, but he seems to be merely transcribing it."
"As it consumes his mind." Arcee concluded darkly, having hovered nearby to hear his quiet report after bringing in yet another sheet of scientific scribbles.
"By all indications and my current calculations... by the time Bulkhead finishes the formula, his thoughts, his memories could all be wiped clean." The medic stated plainly, his spark stinging. He'd put every Autobot on this base back together more times than he could count. And as vehemently as he would deny it to himself and everyone else... losing any of them would hurt.
Arcee growled, putting her hands on her hips, glancing back into the main room where Bulkhead was continuing his mutterings. "But if we stop him, good bye synthetic Energon."
His engine rumbled in frustration and the distinct feeling of his own inadequacy as a medic. "You assume we possess a means of stopping him. I don't exactly have instant access to the wisdom of the ancients."
Optimus glared at his pessimism. "I will not allow any more of our own to be sacrificed. No matter the cost."
Ratchet shook the images of graying frames on his berths from his mind. He'd always tried so hard to save each of them... He couldn't afford to give up now. "If the living data transmitted itself from the cylinder, perhaps we could somehow coax it back inside."
"How are we supposed to get it back from the 'Cons?" Arcee asked, crushing the glimmer of hope. "It's not like they'll give it to us if we say 'please' and 'thank-you'."
The Prime didn't hesitate for a moment. "Megatron will bring it to us."
Terabyte glared at her midnight navy calves. The pedes splayed out into a wide base just above her feet in a very un-two-wheelerly manner. Yet another quirk of having a jet for a sire. Midnight blue wheel-wells from her alt-mode wrapped over her shoulders, framing her black front, the red lights in the center of her chest shining bright. Her golden joints and the windscreen that wrapped over her neck sparkled in the crimson light of her bios, accentuating the darkness of the black and navy. Her thighs, abdomen, and arms were the color of steel, also reflecting the red of her bio-lights and optics.
The colors made her want to purge. The physical darkness and evil appearance only served as a symbolic representation of what laid just behind her relatively new loyalties. A representation of who she had become under just slightly manipulated circumstances. She literally glowed with the hate she had allowed to fester inside her, which she had allowed to blind her to the Decepticons' wrongs. Wrongs that far outweighed what the Wreckers did in Protihex.
Even now, she couldn't believe the Autobots' cover story for Protihex. The Wreckers were there. They laid explosives while she watched. And her home burned. She had been there. She had witnessed it with her own - albeit young - optics. Both sides of the war had a dark side... There was no 'good' or 'bad' sides. However, looking at what Megatron and Soundwave had wanted her to be, encouraged her to be... She had no doubts as to which side pursued the good.
She ran a hand over the midnight blue plating on her lower pede, then reached up to stroke the navy mask and the matching m-shaped armor that framed her face, watching her reflection carefully in the polished wall. The base section of her finials bore the same navy, the tiny triangles of lights now gleaming redder than ruby.
The spy snarled at her reflection, the movement hidden behind her mask.
Her dark, red optics were hard, burning with disgust. The gaze in those horrible red optics sent a shiver of fear down her struts. She looked like a killer. Though in reality that shouldn't have surprised her. That was what she'd wanted when she joined the Decepticons wasn't it? To kill Ultra Magnus and all his followers for destroying her home? To repay them spark for spark?
It was supposed to be justice. It was supposed to make her feel better. It wasn't supposed to have ended like this. It wasn't supposed to have felt like this, looked like this.
Terabyte turned her back to her reflection, unable to look into those optics any more. Those optics that were her own. That were now softened and shedding pink, shimmering coolant. She looked evil.
All it would take was a paint job and a short visit to the medic. That was all it would take, then she could make herself forget. She clenched her silver fists tightly, setting her jaw.
After the war, she would go back to her original coloring. The colors of when she was in a world of peace. Gold and blue with yellow bios and no mask to have to hide behind. She'd lay down her weapons and live. Someway, somehow, Cybertron would be restored and she would raise her sparklings in a time of joy and prosperity and they would never have to live with the scars of war. They would have the life her creators had worked so hard to try and give her.
She had no doubt that one day this would happen. Somehow. She would make it happen. But the war wasn't over yet. And until it was, she had a lot of redeeming to do. Deep down, she would never be able to atone for her wrongs. She'd never be able to clear her name. But she, sure as the Well of Allsparks, could try her best.
Knock-knock-knock.
The spy pulled out of her thoughts, which had - primarily - grown optimistic, and cocked her helm at the door to the two-wheelers' quarters. Arcee wouldn't knock to come in, and Cliffjumper didn't have such a light knock...
Punching in the previous unlock sequence, Terabyte sighed. The keypad let out a smug beep that sounded like 'wrrrooonnnng'. Of course, Arcee would have changed the lock. She was back to prisoner status. Prisoners can't just punch in the code to their cells and walk out.
"Come in." She called through the door, keeping her tone mostly neutral, the hope that had planted itself in her spark not quite staying restrained.
"Could ya open the door?" A small, lightly accented voice replied impatiently. It belonged to the pink-helmed human girl. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not twenty-bajillion feet tall. I can't reach your button."
Terabyte laughed, kneeling in front of the door for better communication. "Actually, I am only about fifteen and a half of your 'feet'. Quite far from twenty-bajillion."
"Only." Miko snorted, "That's like, three of me!"
"Approximately." She replied, smiling. "Can I help you in any way?"
The girl hummed quietly on the other side of the door. "Besides anything that'd need you to come out? Um... not really..." Silence. "Oh! Wait here! I'll be right back..."
She listened curiously as light footsteps echoed down the hall as she ran off. Terabyte leaned her helm into the door, flicking her finials. "I won't be going anywhere."
About a breem later, her systems were falling back into recharge as she knelt with her helm pressed into the door. That is, until she fell on her face at Cliffjumper's feet, the door having slid out from in front of her.
"Good morning, Short Stuff!" The mech greeted cheerily, looking down at her as she pulled her face out of the floor. Incredibly gracefully.
"Morning." Terabyte said softly, her view from her spot on the floor consisting mainly of his left pede, silver and malformed.
Miko stepped forward, hands on her hips with a commanding posture, declaring, "I want to do something fun."
The femme looked at Miko skeptically. "Shouldn't you be at school?"
"It's Saturday!" Miko and Cliffjumper exclaimed together, the latter offering a hand to help her up. She accepted it after slight hesitation.
"So..." She dusted off her pedes, careful not to shower the girl with dust. She frowned minutely at Miko, her blood-red optics sparkling in amusement, "Am I expected to be some form of entertainment for you?"
"We're gonna go get Jack, Raf, and Bee." Miko started, her expression growing increasingly excited. Cliffjumper finished out with a wink, "And you owe us a race."
Ruby optics came online, his processors whirring groggily into action. He groaned, lifting his helm straight with a loud crack as his neck-strut popped back into alignment. Rolling his shoulders and fluttering his wings to return feeling to them, Skyquake stood up and stretched, popping every other strut in his spine in succession.
He'd slept on worse... Though at the moment his processors were failing to recall a time. Normally he had... What? Someone else, someone he trusted like his own spark. Someone else who had always been there for him, and he'd forgotten that someone.
Twitching his wings as if to shoo away the conflicting thoughts and feelings, the fighter jet looked over to the empty berth where Cliffjumper had been. The mech could have woke him up, Skyquake thought grouchily, his back and wings sore from recharging in such an awkward position.
He needed to get out of here. To fly.
Skyquake checked his chronometer casually. He scowled. Twelve joors. He hadn't recharged that long since Prime landed him in the med-bay after Technahar. War didn't allow for twelve joor (two day) leisure naps.
For sheer curiosity's sake, he slammed a servo into the 'open' button, not expecting anything to happen. To his surprise, the keypad replied in Cliffjumper's voice.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty!" The automated message said in that annoyingly playful tone, "I hope you're having a grand time with that crick in your neck."
Skyquake shot the keypad a caustic glare, bending his neck side-to-side, popping the strut again.
"Anyway, TB and I're in the kids' entertainment center - in the main room - and she said that she'll put up with your presence invading my own overwhelming awesomeness if you choose to join us. See ya later, alligator!"
The jet fumed, stepping through the now-open door before it changed its mind. As if Terabyte would say something like that. Seriously, anyway. She might if she were teasing, but not relayed through the red malfunction.
Shrugging, Skyquake headed towards the main room. His tanks were still at sixty percent, so the mech didn't bother with refueling first.
When he got there, he was greeted with the sounds of laughter, engines, crunching metal, and cheering humans, all over the top of a long string of irrelevant technical babbling. Cliffjumper, Terabyte, and Bumblebee all leaned against the rail behind the humans' couch with dimmed optics. Bulkhead sat mumbling in a corner, painting on steel sheets.
He walked over to the entertainment center and stood next to Terabyte, looking down at the humans. Jack, Raf, and Miko sat on the couch, the youngest human clutching a gray console of sorts attached to the human equivalent of a vid-screen. An attractive - for a squishy fleshling - woman with soft, red helm armor lay on her front with her legs in the air, yet another gray console in her hands, her green eyes focused intently on the vid-screen.
One of the other two unidentified humans leaned against the couch with his feet sprawled in front of him, a familiar wide grin on his freckled face, a wild mop of brown helm-armor that stuck out every which way. This human also held a console. The last human was standing behind the sofa, resting his elbows on it. This one was just a bit older than Raf, with short blond helm-armor - 'hair' according to his mental English dictionary - and huge blue eyes.
"C'mon TB! You can beat him!" Raf encouraged, leaning forward to stare more effectively at the screen as his thumbs twiddled the console in his hands.
The screen was divided into three parts, a large one on top and two smaller ones on the bottom. In the top, a pink buggy was driving right next to a red vehicle with a squarish appearance, which also occupied the right corner. A third vehicle drove all alone in the right corner, and was burnt orange. The number in the top read '2nd', in the right, '1st', and in the left, '5th'.
Skyquake frowned, puzzled by the boy's words, glancing over at Terabyte, who had failed to acknowledge his existence, and by all appearances had nothing occupying her attention.
"Push your Nitro! Push it! Push it!" Miko shouted, giving no way of telling who she was addressing. "Awww... Lost it."
The red-helmed woman slammed her fingers into the console's buttons, resulting in the pink buggy crashing into the red vehicle, causing it to run over the barrier, over the cliff, and down to a watery doom. The man with the wild hair and dotted face groaned, passing the console up to Miko.
"Haha! Take that, cliff jumper!" The red-helmed woman laughed, racing over the checkered finish line with a triumphant grin.
Miko bumped her fist into the dotted faced man who was moaning dramatically. "'S what'cha get for playin' with the pros, Cliff."
"Hey, 'Bee, you want to have a go at it?" Raf asked, offering the console not to the yellow scout, but to the blond boy behind him.
Skyquake's confused scowl deepened as the humans exchanged banter using Autobot designations. One wing twitched back as he looked into Terabyte's blank, masked face, her red optics dim. "What on Cybertron is wrong with you mechs? And I thought you only had three human pets, not seven."
Terabyte made no acknowledgement of him, but the red-headed woman paused the game and twisted around to grin up at him, revealing a thin, jagged scar that mirrored the one that lay behind Terabyte's mask. The thin white line ran from just below the far corner of her left eye, across her cheek, ending just above the left corner of her full, red lips. The human female's features were eerily familiar.
"Seven? Learn to count, Sky! There's only six of us."
He pointed a clawed gray servo in the direction of a dark-haired woman with mint-colored armor talking to Ratchet in the med-bay. This woman was older than the humans at the vid-screen, bearing very close resemblance to Jack.
"Who is that?" The red-headed woman asked, tilting her head at the woman in the med-bay. All of a sudden, she disappeared with a crack of energy, right as Terabyte straightened, turning around to face the med-bay.
Skyquake's lip-plates fell into an 'o' as he put the pieces together. Holoforms. His engine rumbled in distaste. The red-headed woman was Terabyte's human holoform. Which meant the blond boy was Bumblebee and the brown-headed, speckle-faced one was Cliffjumper. Personally, he disliked holoforms.
Primus, the great ancient warrior who was the core of their world, did not give of his very spark just so they could go gallivanting as fake organics.
"You don't know the creature?" The jet asked, taking his gaze off of the unknown human, who was becoming increasingly disturbed by his scrutiny.
At his words however, the woman set down the piece of equipment she was examining and stomped over with her hands on her hips, her pointy black feet making a 'clop-clop-clop' sound with her steps. "I'll have you know that this 'creature' is sentient, and would like to be referred to with the proper respect, young man."
He stared at the stern woman, baffled by the commanding, carrier-like tone that she used with him. As if he had any reason to obey. His wings flicked in an unspoken protest to the window-less silo. He ignored it, focusing instead on the little organic femme that dare to give him orders. Skyquake chuckled, the chuckle growing into boisterous, roaring laughter.
"Sky..." Terabyte whispered quietly, acting as though she'd expected some other response from him.
"What?" He asked, still smirking at the human. She was glaring up at him indignantly. "Did you really expect me to listen to her?"
"All I have to do is," He made a flicking motion with his servos, "and splat, there goes the snobby little flesh-bag." Skyquake rolled his optics, bending down on one knee to get a little closer to the human's level, causing her to flinch away in fear. He snorted, "I'm vastly intimidated."
In spite of that, the woman took a brave - or foolish - step forward, glaring up into his ruby optics with steely brown eyes. Those were not the eyes of an ignorant femme, of a femme who'd lived a perfect, care and sorrow free life. His smirk faded and he watched her with a challenge in his optics.
"My name is June Darby, mother of Jack Darby. And with all due respect to your arrogance, my son has been risking his life to defend our planet against you and your friends. I should think that the trust that Autobots, and through them, the human race is investing in you and your girlfriend deserves a little bit of respect in return. By not simply executing you for your crimes, the Autobots and the human race are risking their lives - are risking our lives - so that you can redeem yourselves. So yes, we may be inferior to you, we may be weak compared to you, but we are risking our world to help end your war while you and your Decepticon friends think our sacrifice is funny." Skyquake's wings slid down in shame under the weight of her scolding. "Yet, we continue to fight to defend our world while you try to end your own race. I think that should earn a bit of your respect."
He cast his gaze to the concrete floor. The jet bowed his helm to the woman, who even after all of that, now looked up into his saddened ruby optics with a soft gaze. A gaze that very clearly wondered if she'd pushed him too far. A gaze of one who, in spite of her size - hardly a quarter of his height - was now wondering if she'd broken this twenty-five foot giant.
"I no longer wish to be one of them, Mistress Darby." The olive mech said quietly, "Perhaps one day I will be able to clear my name and thereby honor the sacrifices of your race. Until such a time... I am honored to have made your acquaintance and will do all in my power as allotted by my rank to defend your planet as I failed to defend my own."
A small hand landed lightly on his shoulder, causing him to look up into Terabyte's optics that mirrored his own. She smiled sadly at him behind her mask. He couldn't see her smile, but he knew her well enough to know it was there. "I vow the same, Mistress Darby."
"Thank you, Ms. Darby." Optimus said from right behind them, making Terabyte cringe at his side, moving backwards, away from the Prime, leaving the jet on his own. Skyquake showed no sign of surprise, though he jumped to his pedes, spinning on his heel to salute the Prime, surprising himself further by the action. He became aware of the gathered ring of Autobots watching. The Prime continued, "That is something I think we all needed to be reminded of."
"Optimus," Skyquake dipped his helm to the Prime. His wings twitched again, itching to be used. All of a sudden the circle of Autobots around him was making him feel severely claustrophobic. He needed to get out. But everyone was expecting a speech or something.
"I, uh..." His wings flared out, the ever-present fear of enclosed spaces starting to make it hard to concentrate.
Couldn't they just give him some space? He could feel six sets of EM fields - Terabyte's had been retracted to nearly nothing when Optimus entered the room - touching his own field, which, granted, as a flier was larger than the average. Did grounders normally have such disregard for field space?
Skyquake's engine growled, causing the Autobots to bristle, the quiet hum of charged weapons ringing in his audios. His patience was gone, he was trying really hard not to just kill them all to make their electro-magnetic fields, tight with anticipation - which was only winding him up further - just go away.
"Would you all just back off already!?" He roared, bringing a cry of fear from Ms. Darby, the other humans hiding behind their guardians. Miko was nowhere to be seen.
A clawed silver hand landed on his elbow, startling the enraged, cornered jet. He snatched the hand tightly, his fist swinging towards whoever dared to touch him, defensive battle protocols whirling into action before his processors even registered who he was attacking.
"Sky!"
The offender's terrified cry made his life-En run cold, his frame locking up. Her optics were wide and full of fear... fear of him. His ruby optics locked onto her face, and his gray, spiked fist that hovered an inch from her face. Every ounce of will to fight drained out of him in less than an astro-second, but he couldn't make himself move.
His wings drooped and his armor lie plastered tight to his frame as he realized what he had very nearly done. He backed away in horror, dropping her wrist like it had burned him, his hands raised in instant surrender.
"I-I..." Skyquake stuttered, his wings beginning to tremble. He continued backing away, towards the main entrance, the horrified expression not fading in the slightest. The Autobots all had weapons levelled on his spark. He wished they'd just shoot and be done with it. "I need to get out of here..."
He bolted.
She transformed mid-run, her tires squealing for purchase on the glossed concrete floor. Behind her, the sound of more tires followed. Terabyte paid no heed to whoever was pursuing her; as long as they didn't try to stop her, they didn't matter right now.
Her shock and fear had melted as soon as he dropped her hand, replaced with concern. In all the vorns she'd known him, the fighter jet had never let her see him so horrified and afraid. She didn't blame him in the slightest, she was unharmed; he was a Seeker! Seekers just don't do underground bases.
Honestly she was surprised he'd lasted so well. He'd only been on one - rather short - flight for more than two quartex. Fliers were well-known to go stir-crazy when confined. Abnormal, stressed behavior was only to be expected.
To her surprise, the mech didn't fly off instantly. Rather, he leapt - with the assistance of thrusters - to the top of the plateau the base resided in, taking a seat on the cliff edge. Terabyte studied the cliff face for a quick moment, plotting a course for herself before starting the climb.
Whoever had followed her ducked back into the base. Probably knew a better way up. The spy scrambled up the side of the precipice with relative ease: she didn't get to be Soundwave's second by being bad at her job.
Reaching the top, Terabyte automatically scanned for enemies, relaxing slightly once she'd done so. A shadow flitted behind a boulder, but she forced herself to ignore the two-wheeler watching them, though she nodded faintly in Arcee's direction. A spy knows a spy when she sees one.
Skyquake sat staring up at the clear blue sky, his wings trembling faintly - too faintly for anyone unfamiliar with fliers to notice. But she'd been around fliers most of her life. His cooling fans were on, and he was cycling huge vents of the crisp autumn air.
She slid down next to him, accidentally brushing his wing-tip as she did so, alerting him of her presence, stopping at a good three feet away. The femme didn't want to hurt him further by keeping her distance, but at the same time, her inherently distrustful programming would not allow her to completely blow it off. She looked up into the sky, watching a thin wisp of a cloud dance across the sky. For a long while neither spoke, content to sit in thoughtful silence; though Skyquake's side of the silence was somewhat tense.
"I thought you were going to fly out the wing-bind?" Terabyte asked finally, still cautiously keeping her EM field confined, not wanting to crowd the flustered, claustrophobic jet.
Her shoulder wheels spun at the mention of flying. Skyquake was the only one who would take her flying, and he'd been gone for seven vorns. She stifled a huff of laughter at the irony of her existence. A grounder that suffered wing-bind. Who would have thought it possible?
The olive jet's engine growled lowly, confirming her suspicion. He was punishing himself by not flying. And yet, not flying was the reason all of this happened in the first place.
"Sky..." She scolded lightly, dropping her mask to smile up at him. "What good will it do you to keep yourself grounded?"
"It'll serve me right." Skyquake spat, refusing to look at her. "I abandoned you to come rust on this dirt ball and seven vorns later you find me, and all I've done since is cause you pain. I deserve far worse than simply being grounded."
In spite of her perhaps better judgement, Terabyte let out an exasperated groan, "Seriously? This again? Let it go, Sky."
She snorted, her optics twinkling with laughter, "Besides, if you're going to beat yourself up over something, I'd go with the abandoning me for a dirt ball and some Energon. I mean, I'm obviously far superior to a lump of dirt in the edge of the galaxy."
The mech ignored her teasing tone. If anything, his wings drooped even more. "I received direct orders from Megatron himself, Tera... If I had a choice, I would have stayed. You do know that, right?"
"Of course I know that, you ding-bat!" She exclaimed, sliding over to bump him with her elbow. "Why do you think I'm up here? It isn't like I make a habit of chatting with random depressed rust-heaps that I don't like."
"I'm not rusty." Skyquake objected half-sparkedly.
She giggled. "So you're not objecting to being a random depressed heap, so long as you're shiny?"
This brought a smile to his face, though she wasn't sure if it was as a result of her words or simply her giggling. He always seemed happier when she was happy. Which was why she was here.
"Tera," Skyquake started quietly, his tiny smile fading just as soon as it had come. "I could have severely hurt you... I swore to you that I would never hurt you again. I-"
She pressed two servos to his lips gently, shaking her helm firmly. "And you didn't. So we're all good. Okay? I haven't finally found my best friend after nearly a decavorn just for you to spend the next decavorn beating yourself up over every time you twitch."
He looked back out to the beginnings of one of the spectacular desert sunsets Jasper was famous for. Finally, he nodded his helm. For several more breems they sat in companionable silence, Terabyte's sensors staying locked on Arcee, monitoring the femme's activities.
Next Day
"Ratch, I think Bulk's losing his mind." She stated bluntly, trying to hide the tears that were coming to her eyes. She would be strong. Bulk would want her to be strong; to tough it out.
The medic turned around to look at her, his sea-blue eyes sad and tired. He didn't respond, merely turning back to his dumb medical terminal. Miko choked on a sob, glaring at the old bot through her tears.
"You already know!" She shouted, backing away from him like he was a stranger.
Ratchet faced her fully, reaching towards her slowly, "Miko, we didn't want to frighten you... But rest assured, Optimus has a plan."
"Optimus isn't Bulkhead's doctor." The pink and black haired girl spat bitterly, swiping away the tears that threatened to stream down her face. "I just need to know: when Bulk's done spitting out that formula, he'll go back to being regular ole Bulkhead... right?"
The doc-bot just looked at her, his eyes filled with pity. And that was all the answer she needed.