A/N: This took way too long to write. I have yet to really go over it for typos, so excuse my blunders for a few days until I have a chance to edit.
Kind of a patch work chapter this week. A bit of a cool down before the storm. Next week should be more exciting.
Until then, thank you for all the kind reviews, and enjoy.
Some slight warnings for this chapter: There is some minor past slash mentioned. But honestly it could be seen as friendship.
The silence was instant. All optics locked on June. Her heavy, exasperated breathing resonated about the medbay and blood trickled from the gash in her ankle where the glass had nicked her. The nurse slumped into the nearest seat, drained by the confrontation.
"W-what did you say?" Ratchet breathed, the words nearly dying in his throat.
"The nurse drew in a heavy breath. "I think I may have a cure." Ratchet's hand went to his helm, gripping the rim of his chevron as a spell of dizziness swept through his systems. Optimus patted Bulkhead's shoulder as he stood. He gently tested the strength of the weld on his shin before picking up the toppled IV. Ratchet allowed him to ease it back into his intravenous port and gratefully accepted the aid in sitting up. The Prime sat on the berth behind the medic, allowing him to lean on his chest for support. He gently ran a hand down the white platting of Ratchet's arm.
Bulkhead heaved himself from the floor. "I'm gonna go check on 'Cee."
"Bulk?" The wrecker turned. Ratchet didn't meet his gaze, instead he stared at the floor with flickering optics.
"I'll tell her, Ratch," He mumbled. With that he was gone, the medbay doors squeaking shut behind him.
"June," Ratchet finally spoke, "Even if you have a cure, which I find myself doubting, it's far too late." June grabbed up one of her datapads, brushing the damaged one aside with her foot. The information on the device transferred wirelessly to a larger pad. Optimus held it up for the medic.
"Just look over my idea." Ratchet shook his helm but did so anyway. After a moment of skimming the text he shuttered his optics, pinching the platting between his optics.
"I've already tried the use of a CR chamber," He sighed, "The symptoms were alleviated for a short period. But when they returned they were exasperated beyond repair." June flicked a hand dismissively.
"You only ever tried that at the early stages, never like this." Ratchet shook his head, reading further.
"Even if that did make a difference, we don't have the supplies." Optimus squeezed Ratchet's arm.
"If it means your life," Prime assured, "We will find a way to acquire the supplies." Ratchet tilted his chin up to look at Optimus.
"My life is not worth providing the humans with more ways to kill themselves. And besides, the technology may not exist on this world. We'd have to return to the Ark for the CR chamber. I'm not even sure the nanites in storage are active anymore."
"Ark?" June scrolled through her notes.
"Our ship," Optimus explained, "It is buried far off the cost of Greenland, but remains mostly intact."
June hummed in acknowledgement. "I'm sure you have much more to trade that weaponry. You're a brilliant race. Far more advanced that we are."
Ratchet arched his back against Optimus' chest. He grunted slightly as the ache only increased. Prime placed an arm behind the medic's back as he hoisted him further up. "Better?" He whispered. Ratchet shook his helm.
"Not much to be done. I need a clear processor and any sensor dampener strong enough will give me just the opposite." Optimus hummed, desperately wishing he could help his eldest friend, but not sure what he could do. "As far as technology," Ratchet hummed, returning to the previous conversation. "I'm unwilling to share any medical knowledge. There's a reason I didn't want them prodding at me. Just look what MECH did with the information."
"Star charts and some knowledge on astrophysics may be a fair trade," Optimus suggested. June hummed, nodding. Humans are a curious species. Almost any information based trade would do if it were presented properly.
"I will have to read your theory more throughouly before deciding on a course of actions, June." Ratchet mumbled, skimming the text once again. "I am still highly doubtful that any of this will work. Where did you even get this idea from?"
"I was reading an article about a young girl that survived rabies," June replied, "The virus attacks the nervous system. The girl wasn't diagnosed early enough to get the preventative vaccination. Instead they put her into a medically induced coma and used a series of drugs to attack the virus and prevent it from reaching her brain."
Ratchet nodded slowly, "I understand how that would work but I'm having a hard time seeing how the situations correlate. The issue here began in my processor."
June held up a hand. "And we need to keep it from reaching your spark, correct? You've attempted putting patients in stasis before. That didn't work; the glitch was still active, hidden from repair nanites in secluded areas of the processor. But stasis lock can't be induced medically on the same level as it can be naturally by the frame. If my theory is correct that level of shutdown should slow the glitch enough for CR nanites to subdue it and by the point you naturally enter stasis lock the glitch would be fully exposed, vulnerable."
"Subdue, but would the virus be cured?" Optimus asked. June sighed.
"That's where the main risk lies. There's a good chance that the glitch would only be brought back to its dormant stage. It could reactivate at any time."
Ratchet huffed, "And because by then it would be adapted to my systems so thoroughly I would not perish in a matter of years or even months but over the span of a week."
"I assume the experience would be even more unpleasant?" Optimus inquired. Ratchet nodded.
"Honestly if that would be the case, spark suffocation would be the best path. I've done it for patients in the past. Quick and painless. A release from the agony."
June swallowed loudly. "Spark suffocation?" She sounded mortified.
Ratchet nodded, leveling her with dimmed optics. "While assisted suicide may be frowned upon in your culture it was common practice on Cybertron. Especially during the Great War. There were clinics set up for just that." June shivered, but only nodded, still displeased with the idea.
"This is most likely a topic we should continue after more research has been done," Optimus suggested, noticing Ratchet's continued squirming.
"Agreed," The medic groaned. "I take back my previous aversion to painkillers. An injection would be welcome." Optimus nodded, gently guiding the mech back down to the berth before retrieving the requested supplies. Once Ratchet was soundly in a pain-free recharge, Optimus motioned to June for her to follow. She did so with a sad smile.
Once outside, the Prime stooped as close to her level as he could. "I am obligated to ask," he began, "how likely do you think this plan to succeed?" June sighed.
"It honestly isn't as high of a chance as I was hoping." Optimus nodded, expecting as much. "I'd give it about a thirty percent chance of putting the virus into a dormant state and a five percent chance of curing it completely."
Optimus tilted forward slightly. "What would be the outcome be if neither result occurred?"
"Most likely he'll enter stasis lock, we'll put him in the CR chamber, and he'll drift away regardless. No additional pain, if that's what you're wondering."
"It was," Optimus remarked, "thank you."
Over the next week, Ratchet and June poured the majority of their attention and time into working towards a cure. Though the news that a solution was possible had spread throughout the base, they did their best to keep from getting anyone's hopes too high. Ratchet and Arcee spoke little during the time the medic was awake. Most commonly the cycle-former would sit by the medic side as he recharged and disappear the moment he showed signs of wakefulness.
The femme sat in her quarters late into the night. It was a school day the next morning, so the children had gone home early. There had been little conflict with the Decepticons recently, thus every bot in the base had almost nothing of pressing importance to do. Arcee was not the only one that had gone to her quarter's to attempt an early recharge. A light knock on her door indicated that she was not the only one up as well.
Reluctantly Arcee stood and palmed open her quarter door. Bulkhead stood, arms crossed, giving her the closest approximation he could to a stern glare. After a moment of silence is awkwardly gestured him into her room. The moment the door was shut he spoke.
"You need to go talk to Ratchet," He practically demanded. "He's dying and you'll barely look at him."
Arcee scoffed. "So because the mech's dying I have no right to be mad at him."
"No," Bulkhead retained his level, lecturing tone, "But you don't have the right to be mad at him because he's dying."
The femme leveled him with an appalled look before turning to sit on her berth. Bulkhead remained standing, position never changing. "He can always come and talk to me. It takes two to fight."
"No." This time the ex-Wrecker's tone rose. "He's stuck on life support, he can't leave medbay. We tried taking him off two nights ago. His spark began to stutter the moment he was off." Arcee's optics widened. She opened her mouth to protest but Bulkhead held up a hand to stop her. "His systems are shutting down, Arcee. His frame can't support his spark by itself anymore. June's given him a little over a month. You'd know all of this if you'd been there."
The two-wheeler stood again, stomping down a foot. "Don't you dare start accusing me of abandoning him!"
Bulkhead's expression softened as his voice dropped. "He's been asking about you, for you. Go talk to him, 'Cee, now, while he's coherent. In a week or two he probably won't be. Apologies while you can."
Arcee sighed, "Is he awake now?" Bulkhead nodded, moving out of the way of the door as Arcee slid past him. With a slight smile, he returned to his own room.
"Ratch?" The door to the medbay creaked open as Arcee peaked her head around. The medic was sitting up in bed with a datapad, cables and tubes hanging off his form from every surface. He glanced her way but never commented. Arcee pulled up a stool next to the berth. "What are you reading?" She asked.
He waved the datapad about absently, "Just checking the nanite calibration programming changes Rafael and June have made, not all that exciting really."
Arcee hummed, nodding. "I have no idea what that means."
Ratchet whirled his fans in what could pass as a laugh. "The nanites for the CR chamber. They have to be calibrated to specifically target the glitch." With a sigh Ratchet placed the datapad on his lap. "I'm not going to get anymore done tonight anyway," he muttered, "So talk. I know you didn't come here to watch me check calculations."
The two-wheeler cycled her optics twice. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, helm bowed. "I shouldn't have said what I did."
Ratchet grabbed Arcee's chin, puller her face back up to his gaze. "You are young, Arcee. You know much more about death than one your age should, but you are still too young to understand how to deal with it. I watched you do the same thing with Trailbreaker and Cliffjumper. You were angry and resentful, but then you knew they died for a reason, for the war. Me…" He trailed off, "You have the right to be angry, Arcee. I don't hold it against you."
Arcee swatted his hand away. "I'm not a sparkling, Ratchet. I'm supposed to be able to deal with this without resorting to temper tantrums."
The medic scoffed. "Look at me, Arcee. I'm more than twice your age. If it's wrong for you to throw a fit every now and then, then I should have been scrapped eons ago for my temper. We both know I was much more of a terror last week then you were." Arcee breathed a laugh.
"Yeah," Arcee chuckled, "Should have seen the look on Bulk's face when he came running to my quarters for a place to hide."
Ratchet joined her in a soft laugh, "I believe I saw enough to imagine it." He coughed lightly as his intakes spasmed. Arcee waited patiently for him to compose himself. "I think we both lost it, and I know neither of us holds it against the other. So I would appreciate it if you would stop avoiding me like a scared turbo-fox." Arcee smiled, but nodded. Ratchet let out a grunt of thanks, picking up his datapad. "Good. If I'm going to join the well I'd like to do so with as many friends by my side as possible. Now go get some recharge, I'll still be here when you wake up."
Arcee shook her head, "I'm not really all that tired. I'll stay with you for the night."
The Prime's office was silent save for the gentle clicking of Optimus' fingers upon the keyboard. He typed slowly, deliberately, recording in careful words the data stored in his memory. Little emotion went into his work. His past as an Archivist dictated that he simply record, decode, and file information; never analyzing it. Normally. It was, however, extremely difficult and taxing to keep the emotion from his transcriptions when describing the events that had come to pass of late. Some he simply let slip.
A whispering rap on the door pulled the Autobot commander from his musings. He glanced up, calling for his visitor to enter. Arcee pulled the door shut behind her as quietly as possible, somewhat intimidated by the silence. Optimus motioned for her to sit as he pushed aside his datapads.
"We picked up an Autobot beacon, Sir," She began, "We're pretty sure it's Wheeljack. He should be touching down in about a quarter of a cycle." Optimus nodded, humming to himself.
He stood, touching the battle worn armor on Arcee's shoulder as he passed. "Then we'd better go and greet him." She followed her leader from the office, humbly and strangely silent. Optimus paused and looked back at the femme, optics scrunched and mouth drawn into a thin line. "Is there something wrong, Arcee?"
She wrung her hands unconsciously behind her back, wing struts twitching, "If it's all the same to you, Prime, I'd like to stay behind. Bulkhead and Bumblebee can go with." The Prime nodded, knowing Arcee's reasoning without her having to voice it. Someone had to stay with Ratchet. The only time the ill 'bot could be left alone to function without assistance was when he was recharging. Even then, there was always the risk that he would purge in his sleep and clog his vents.
Optimus called Bulkhead and Bumblebee to him as Arcee went to take the young scout's place in the medbay. The wrecker, it seemed, had already been informed of Wheeljack's impending arrival and was thus nearly bouncing on his pedes. It would do him, and most likely the others, a great deal of good to have a visitor to keep their mind from their Medic's condition. The depression that seemed to settle upon Autobot Outpost Omega One recently would not be lifted without outside aid. The extra firepower would be beneficial as well. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to ward off any Decepticon advances with one 'bot staying behind while the others ran on half maintenanced parts.
With a smile flashed in his comrades' direction Optimus opened the Ground Bridge and set forth. The rocky landscape of a mountain range greeted them on the other side. The roar of the Jackhammer's engines was already rippling through the trees. Dust and dirt clouded the air as the ship touched down. The moment the hatch opened Bulkhead rushed forward, engulfing his friend in a bear hug. Wheeljack patted his back, looking about apprehensive, slightly confused by the ex-wrecker's overly affectionate behavior.
"It is good to see you again, Wheeljack," Optimus held out a hand after Bulkhead finally released the mech. He took up the Prime's servo gladly, grip strong and proud.
"Good to be back, I was starting to miss this mud ball." He snorted, glancing about, "Hey, Bulk? Where's that Miko."
"At school, she'll be back soon," Bulkhead chuckled, "Missing her too? You getting attached or something, Jackie?"
The white mech shook his head, "Nah, Bulk, just wanting to make sure you've been good." Optimus smiled, glad that, at least momentarily, the larger mech had forgotten his previous gloom. As Bumblebee tentatively greeted their visitor, Optimus pinged Arcee for a ground bridge. One appeared moments later.
Prime cleared his vents loudly to gain the others' attention. "It would be safer if we were to continue back at base."
"Sure, Prime." Bulkhead seemed almost disappointed as he strode past Optimus, Wheeljack not far behind. Bumblebee glanced at Optimus, buzzing inquisitively. The leader merely shrugged, though he had a good idea of what was causing the sudden mood change. Every problem the Wrecker was facing currently was back at base. The mountain forest he was leaving was an escape of sorts, the only kind he could find at the moment.
Once back at base, Prime found that Bulkhead had lowered his voice somewhat, despite the medbay doors being sealed. Wheeljack, still looking very perplexed, had done the same simply by example. After a moment of hushed conversation, during which Optimus and Bumblebee returned to their previous posts, Wheeljack glanced about.
"Where's the Doc?" He inquired. Bulkhead went silent for a moment, optics unfocused.
"Medbay," He murmured.
"Ah," Jackie hummed, "Workaholic. He's going to drop dead someday, working himself that hard. Can't even come and say hello."
The green mech shook his head, crossing his arms tightly to his chest, "N-no, Jackie," he stuttered, earning him another bewildered look, "Ratch is sick."
Wheeljack looked taken aback, but his brashness returned all too quickly, "See? Probably from overworking himself. Made his systems vulnerable to whatever sniffles they've got on this planet."
Bulkhead slumped, already exhausted by the conversation, "No, Jack, you don't understand. He's sick. Like, really sick. We don't-" He vented deeply trying to keep from clicking, "We don't think he'll make it through the orn." Wheeljack's smile faded, his shoulders slumped and eyes went wide. Both Wreckers simply stared at each other for a long moment, the smaller struggling to take in the news. Finally Wheeljack sighed.
"You-" He faltered, "You think I could see him?" Bulkhead shrugged.
"When he wakes up, yeah."
Wheeljack paused, unsure of what to say next. Unsure whether or not to ask what was on his processor. "It's the glitch isn't it?" Bulkhead gapped.
"Y-yeah. How – how did you?" Something seemed to snap then in his processor. Bulkhead took a step back. "You knew him, didn't you? Before all this? Before the war?" Despite the questioning tone, Wheeljack knew it was more of a statement than a true inquiry.
"Yeah," He sighed, "Look, Bulk, I don't really want to go into this right now. Now without discussing it with him first, but let's just say we were close, back before I joined up with the Wreckers." The other nodded, silently understanding.
"Come on," He pulled at the White mech's arm, "Let's go see if he's up." Wheeljack smiled, grateful, and followed into the medbay. He stood at the door for a moment, taking in the sight, while Bulkhead went to talk in hushed tones to Arcee. The cycle-former nodded before standing and taking her leave. Bulkhead patted the stool next to him, beckoning his comrade over. The latter sat, his every movement slow and deliberate, as if he feared waking the recharging mech on the berth.
"Its okay, Jackie," Bulk soothed, "The medicine he's taking makes him recharge pretty deeply. You won't wake him." Wheeljack sighed, placing his head in his hands and closing his optics.
"Oh, Ratchet," He mumbled into his palms. A large hand landed on his back and he leaned into the comfort, grateful for such a friend. "I'll tell you this, Bulk," He murmured, "I've got a pit of a lot of apologizing to fit into just a few megacycles."
"I know you don't want to tell me right now," Bulk ran his hand over the warm metal of Wheelljack's back, "But if you do want to talk, I'm here."
The wrecker glanced up, meeting his friend's gaze, "Same goes for you, Bulk. I can already tell you've had a pit of a time with this." A rustle from the berth below them drew the wreckers' attention. Ratchet stirred, tugging lightly on the IV with a shaky hand. Bulkhead leaned forward to help him relieve some tension on the line. Once resettled he glanced up, optics filled with recharge and vents sighing softly, attempting to wake his lethargic systems.
"Hey Bulk," he mumbled, optics roaming the room but not truly comprehending. His arm twitched slightly for a moment before he managed to calm his systems.
"Hey yah, Ratch," Bulk smiled, "You've got a visitor." He shuttered his optics several times before he seemed to comprehend the sentence.
"Optic's not working so well today," He coughed, voice horse, "Who-"
Wheeljack smiled, taking Ratchet's hand into his own, "It's me, Ratch." The medic's hand twitched in his hold. His optics scrunched up and he tensed, displeased with the answer.
"Wheeljack," He muttered, tone cold. The mech in question turned to glance at Bulkhead, who quickly got the message and turned to leave. Ratchet coughed several times before finally regaining his voice. "What are you doing here?"
"Please, Doc," Ratchet grimaced at the name, "I just wanna talk."
"About?" His voice was rough and full of static. Wheeljack's intakes hitched slightly every time he shuttered or coughed. Wheeljack shrugged.
"You tell me. You probably know better what we need to discuss than I do." The Wrecker rubbed at his arm, nervous. He was not particularly adept at such conversation.
"Fine," Ratchet huffed. "Help me sit up and we can talk." Wheeljack slid an arm under the medic's back and neck, hoisting him up to prop his back on the berths inclination. Ratchet grunted, his face pulling back into a grimace, but he didn't complain. For a moment he simply sat, vents cycling and helm bowed. Finally he glanced up at Wheeljack, face drawn and optics unfocused. "You left," He breathed, "I needed you and you left."
Wheeljack nodded, gaze still turned down. "I moved to Kaon. My career led me there." He sighed. "I asked you to come with me, Ratchet. You refused."
"I hadn't even had the chance to burry my creators yet when you started talking about your promotion," Ratchet snapped. He quaked slightly as his voice rose. "I hadn't even had the chance to morn and you wanted me to leave everything, Wheeljack."
The wrecker grabbed Ratchet's hand. "And you're right," he conceded, "I was inconsiderate. I was wrong. I was sparkles."
"You know what's more," Ratchet continued, tensing slightly, "You didn't leave to better anyone's lives. I might have been able to forgive you then. I might have understood. But instead-"
"I'm sorry!" Wheeljack's grip on Ratchet's hand tightened. "I screwed up and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ratchet. And I've been trying to apologize for the last twelve hundred vorn. And I'd like to do that properly before you die. You don't have to forgive me but just listen." Ratchet was silent and so Wheeljack continued. "I left to build bombs, create weapons, and it was stupid. The moment I set pede in Kaon I knew I'd made the wrong decision. I forfeited someone I loved very much, that loved me back, to follow a career. And where did that lead? We were both miserable and my inventions contributed to the deaths of millions and to the death of our home."
The wrecker paused, taking in a deep draft of aid and holding it for a long moment. He raised a hand when Ratchet made to speak. Eventually he let the air back out of his systems in a slow sigh, "Last time I was here I didn't make any attempt to talk to you because I felt you didn't want me to. I thought it would just aggravate the situation and we should just return to a relationship of anonymity. I regret that too. Now I only have a month to talk to you, to make up for everything I've done to you. I know you have a hard time believing it, but I truly am sorry."
Ratchet nodded, humming. "That's all I wanted to hear." Wheeljack cocked his head.
"That's it? That's all I had to do?"
The medic shook his head. "It's hard to stay mad at the moment. That's not to say you're forgiven. I don't think that I can ever forgive you for that, but I'm willing to move on." Wheeljack nodded with a slight sad smile.
"That's all I ask for."
"Why are we here again?" Wheeljack glanced around the darkened hallways of the Ark. The ship, once a magnificent vessel, was now fully submerged. The interior remained clean and dry, but the outer hull of the ship was coated in algae and surrounded by local marine wildlife. It was only thanks to internal shielding that any of the ships systems remained in working order.
"To retrieve the medical supplies we need," Optimus reminded over his shoulder. He was fiddling under the main control console, his massive form just barely fitting. "But we need Teletran back online to access the lower decks."
Arcee glanced about the room, her hands on her hips. "And why couldn't Raf just bridge us into the medbay or even the main bridge?" Optimus heaved himself up, having completed the last of the needed manual overrides. The lights adorning the computer keyboard began to flicker on.
"This area has a less dense shielding than any other on the ship, as it is where the main groundbridge is located. Even so, it was difficult to lock on quardinates for this area. I'm also able to access Teletran One from here just as well as the bridge." As he spoke the main systems finished booting. The screen flickered on, displaying static.
A voice, strong and deep yet lethargic, echoed throughout the ship. "Prime?"
Optimus turned his gaze up slightly, as if facing the sound. "Good morning, Teletran."
The whirl of the ships fans sounded eerily like a giants breathing sigh. "It is good to hear your voice again, Prime," Teletran boomed, "My systems are not fully online, but I will do what I can for you."
"We require access to medbay. We've come to get one of the CR chambers," Prime explained.
For a moment there was an awkward silence before the rooms sole door slide open with a creak. Prime motioned his team mates through. Both Arcee and Wheeljack seemed somewhat intimidated by Teletran, or simply the idea of a semi-sentient ship, but Bulkhead appeared perfectly at home within the Ark. Which was understandable, he was the only one of the three to have spent any time serving on the star ship. Optimus too felt a strange comfort being back with the ship he'd spent so many years in, traveling the stars.
As they walked through the decks in the direction of the medbay Optimus continued a light conversation with Teletran. The AI appeared extremely sluggish in answering any question, almost as if he had been rudely thrust out of a deep recharge, which would serve as a rather accurate analogy.
"Where are Ratchet and Bumblebee?" Teletran questioned after a long bout of silence.
"Bumblebee is monitoring the groundbridge," Optimus explained, "And keeping an optic on Ratchet as well." The Artificial Intelligence database took far longer to find the commands to open the next door than he had the previous. All four Autobots waited patiently.
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Prime," Teletran said once he'd found the proper line of code and allowed the 'Bots to continue down the halls. "Why is Bumblebee watching Ratchet? And who are the two others with you. I know Bulkhead, but do not recognize the smaller Cybertronians."
Optimus nodded. "They are Arcee and Wheeljack." The Prime gestured to both in kind. "They are the newest members of our team. As for Ratchet, he is unwell, that is why we are retrieving the CR Chamber, for his treatment." A hiss of hydraulics sounded as the medbay doors slid open. They jammed partway through the sequence but were open enough for all but Bulkhead to squeeze through. He stood awkwardly outside a moment before deciding to take up a guarding stance. Not that there was much too guard the others from, it was merely something to occupy his time.
"I am sorry, Prime," Teletran almost seemed to mumble, "I still do not understand, and do not believe I will. Is there anything more you require of me? I am running on very little power and do not believe I will be able to maintain the level of coherence I have thus far for long."
"Low power supply?" Wheeljack mumbled, taking stalk of the surrounding medbay. Optimus was already prying the CR Chamber from the bolts that kept it secured in the wall.
"Most of my power has been diverted to keeping vital functions active," Teletran informed, "Such as the nanite cultures for the Cryogenic Regeneration Chamber active. Prime, sir, I would appreciate it if you didn't break the wall. I can unlock that for you." Optimus grunted an apology and stood back while Teletran unlocked the life saving device. "If I remain online for too long without a boost of energon," the AI continued once the danger of being damaged was past, "I will not be able to maintain these systems in stasis for any longer than another orn."
The Prime hefted the CR chamber over his shoulder. "Then return to Stasis, Teletran One," Optimus said, "We will be able to make our way back without any further assistance. Arcee, please grab five containers of repair nanites." The two wheeler nodded and did as she was ask, passes the containers she couldn't carry to Wheeljack.
The Ark rumbled in a heaving sigh. "I await your return," Teletran's voice grew deeper and slower as he returned to stand-by.
"And return I shall," Optimus assured, placing a hand against the nearest wall. "Sleep well, my friend."
"Optimus…" Teletran slurred, "Give Ratchet... my blessings."
Prime nodded. He tapped a finger to his finial and readjusted the CR Chamber over his shoulder. "Rafael, bridge us home."