XIII - New Recruit II

"If you're talking wheels, bring 'em on!" Smokescreen remembered having said to Optimus after the Prime had explained how he would have to acquire an "Earth-based vehicle mode." The white mech now regretted his prior enthusiasm after seeing what his meager options were. A perfect example of this was a small, bland white car that rolled down a freeway below a rocky outcropping where he and Jack laid side-by-side. They both watched as scant traffic passed by beneath them in the light of the setting sun, looking for something that would hopefully appeal to the white mech.

He shook some feeling back into his door wings as the drab car drove away, engine noise fading with each passing second. "Nope."

"How about… that one?" Jack looked to a flatbed truck puttering away on the other side of the concrete median between oncoming traffic. It had rusted so badly around the edges that one might think it would fall apart in a heap of plating and coils at any second.

"Eh, it's more Ratchet speed, don't you think?"

"Cement truck?"

"Yeah, if I were a Constructicon." He looked at the human, "Seriously? This is the best your planet has to offer?"

Jack sighed, propping himself up on one elbow. "No, but this is Jasper."

"I feel for you."

They watched car after plain car pass beneath them before the white mech spoke again, this time with a note of caution in his tone that hadn't been there before.

"So… what exactly is wrong with him?" Smokescreen looked to Jack. They both knew who the "him" was… but his name felt like taboo at the moment. The human shrugged—a feat when being propped up on one elbow—trying not to make it seem like a big deal as more cars passed them on the roadway below.

He continued, "I mean, I know he's Starscream and that he's probably knocked a few gaskets loose in that helm of his," he banged a fist against his own to demonstrate, "but seriously? He looked overcharged."

"What?"

"You know," the white mech explained, pretending to guzzle energon and twirled a finger around the side of his helm.

"You mean drunk?" Jack said, baffled. "I didn't even know Cybertronians could get, well, intoxicated–"

"High grade energon can do it, but the stuff's been pretty scarce since Cybertron went dark."

The human didn't press him further, brooding on the new information.

Smokescreen looked as though a new thought had struck him, "And c'mon, he wasn't even chained up–"

"Okay, listen, Smoke." Jack began testily. "Times have changed. Scream's on our side now."

"Good one!" Smokescreen laughed, "But I've heard enough about him to tell that he only cares about himself, and–"

"Well, that's a lie."

"He's a good liar too," the white mech added as an afterthought.

"Maybe," Jack grudgingly agreed, "but I know he trusts us. He's done so much for our cause–"

"Is that right?" Smokescreen challenged. "I know reputation alone that he never sticks his neck cables out for anyone but himself; he's got a yellow streak that goes for light-years!"

"Why else would he put his life in our hands?" The human shot back.

Now the white mech looked confused and a bit uncomfortable. "What're you saying?"

Jack sighed, not believing how many times he had to spell out the same thing to the bot. "Look, MECH―a terrorist organization obsessed with 'radical tech'―somehow engineered a virus and put it inside Starscream's T-Cog. The bot's really sick."

"And it's killing him?"

Jack looked down, his gaze drifting from car to truck to car on the freeway far below them.

"Serves him right," the white mech huffed, looking out over the horizon with contempt, "after all, he was Megatron's SIC, his right-hand mech, and the thing's he's done…"

"Maybe, but not like this." Jack frowned in thought, "Just watching him fade like this… I mean, what would Optimus say?"

"Right, my bad. But–"

"Starscream isn't the bot he was," the human insisted, "and if we had to choose between him and you, we'd take him every time."

Smokescreen finally seemed to get it, "I'm sorry."

"Ratch and Knock Out are still working hard at finding a cure, so don't rule him out just yet." Jack encouraged.

"Wouldn't bet on it." The white mech gave him a slight smile.

Suddenly a sports car shot past beneath the pair, going at least ninety on the freeway past a sign which read SPEED LIMIT: 65. Smokescreen grinned.

I wasn't even able to hear myself think over the loud, shrill whine that I suspected were my audials ringing, let alone the conversations going on above me. All of the other Autobots stood above me, including Arcee. It was funny because I couldn't remember falling over, but they still towered up above me, forcing my memory to kick itself. I vaguely wondered if someone had used the shrink ray on me… but I didn't feel any smaller. And they weren't that far above me.

Ratchet's helm came closer in my blurred vision, followed by his servo holding something just out of my line of sight. But it was very white, and very, very bright. He kept shining it in my optics, and his mouth was clearly moving, but no sound came out. At least, none I could hear over the ringing.

Optimus ducked out of my view towards what I guessed were the consoles, and a moment later the ringing in my audials abated to a dull buzz.

"His pulse rate is stable," I heard Ratchet's voice say as if it was from the other end of a long tunnel.

"Intakes?" Knock Out asked from somewhere.

"Shaky, but regular."

"Temperature?"

I shuttered my optics, not wanting to hear more. Unfortunately, that action had no effect, being that my optics sensed light, while my audials picked up sound. But this simple action brought an assault of excited jabbering upon my audials.

The white light reintroduced itself above me and I blinked several times, feeling my thoughts come into clearer focus along with my surroundings.

Ratchet shone the light in my optics again, "Starscream? Starscream?! Can you hear me?" He prodded the side of my helm, looking extremely worried.

I blinked again, looking at the light he held as if registering it for the first time. "Point that thing somewhere… ugh, somewhere else, will you?"

The medic breathed a sigh of relief and the others' postures relaxed somewhat. I looked around at all of them, the mixed expressions on their faceplates. My gaze lingered on Seven's.

His wings twitched, "You–you fell and Optimus caught you," his voice was quiet but thick with anxiety. The frequent tic in his wings was a dead giveaway. I, on the other hand, didn't feel anything at the moment other than a strong desire to ignore them all and enter the sweet bliss of recharge.

"Your core temperature is eight degrees above where it should safely be," Ratchet held a scanner reading just that in front of my helm to prove his point.

"Doc sure knows how to pile on the optimism." Bulkhead said dryly.

"Wha–" my voice came out much raspier than usual. I cleared my throat, trying again, "What is the virus doing to me?"

The medic and Prime exchanged a glance, "It has corrupted some of the programming controlling your fans…" Ratchet trailed off.

"Which explains the high fever." Arcee finished.

"Now that you're more alert," Optimus said, "it would be best for you and Seven to have a civil conversation with our new recruit. He turned to the medic, "Ratchet, can you locate his coordinates?"

"Optimus are you sure that now is the best time?" He jerked his helm at me.

"I can hear you." I said dryly.

The Prime opted to ignore me, "Nothing changes if we wait, and tempers will only continue to rise."

"No time like the present," Bulkhead added.

Ratchet sighed with blatant disapproval, "I can. In fact, he's–"

I jerked up into a sitting position on the med berth, finally registering what had been said. "NO!" My clone and I snapped in unison.

"He's on his way now." The medic finished, looking me over again. No sooner than he had breathed the last syllable, the growl of an engine sounded in the tunnel leading out of our base. It slowly turned into a roar and headlight beams swept over us. Following the light, a blue and white sports car drove in and drifted in circles, engine revving and brakes squealing. Its headlights flashed again before it came to a stop. Jack sprang out the passenger side, staggering a bit before straightening up.

"That was awesome!" He exclaimed, laughing, "Smokescreen, you're insane!"

The car transformed and said mech stood before us. He bent down, giving Jack a high-five with a grin plastered to his faceplates.

"All the vehicles on this planet, and he picks one with screaming double thirty-eights on the doors!" Arcee shook her helm, not even trying to mask her disgust.

"Seems like no one defined 'low profile' for him." Bulkhead huffed.

"Hey, what more do you want? I got my new treads!" The white mech protested. I slid my legs off the berth, glaring at him all the while.

"Here we go," Ratchet muttered.

Smokescreen crossed his arms, any ghost of playfulness gone from his features as he met my optics. "Bring it."

I stood and immediately every bot in between the white mech and I stepped out of the way, save for Seven, who came and stood next to me, willing to offer support. I frowned at myself, feeling weaker than I expected but less than I feared. And I wasn't shaking anymore, which was also a plus.

"Smokescreen–"

"What's your problem?!" He stomped over to me and I forced myself to hold my ground, even while every line of programming in my processor screamed otherwise. Seven had already backed up several paces in my peripheral vision. Thanks for the support, I thought angrily.

"Oh, my problem, is it?" I growled, jabbing him in his chest plate. "You're the one who thinks he can just strut in here and be accepted by everyone with open arms and sparks!"

"Says you! You're the one who terminated Cliffjumper, right? Why did they–" he waved at all the other Autobots, "even think of letting you jump aboard after that?!"

Arcee stared at me with an unheard of intensity, it wasn't quite a glare but somehow worse at the same time. I shifted my gaze to my pedes after it started to make my helm throb… or maybe that was just the pounding of my spark.

I looked back up and glowered at him, knowing this question was going to crop up at some juncture. "For your information, Smoke, that is water under the bridge."

The femme's servo tightened into a fist in the corner of my vision. "Oh, is it? You never said you regretted terminating him–much less even offered an apology!"

I realized I hadn't done either of those things at the same time. "I—ah…"

"See! He can't even say 'sorry'!" Smokescreen snapped, pointing aggressively at me.

Optimus broke in, "Autobots, as we will forgive Starscream for his past misdeeds, we shall not forget them. Our prior actions shape who we are, but our choices in the present will reflect who we shall become, whether for good or ill. We all have done terrible things in this war, which is why we work so hard to end it."

"I'm sorry." I whispered, helm hung low.

"Sorry, can't quite hear you over your ego." Knock Out quipped.

"I know," he moaned quietly, "I'm the reason he's not here today… among so many others that I've lost count. I-I-I just don't know how much longer I can do this… this senseless fighting… and for what? What am I gaining from this, what do we all get out of this war when it's over?!" He choked, looking to me. I came over and sat beside my double, trying to give him a reassuring smile. But it flickered when yet another crackle of whitish electricity jolted through his frame.

"When it's over," I said, "some mechs are going straight to therapy."

"HA!" Knock Out guffawed.

He glared at me, "You just said that to shut me up, didn't you?"

"It worked, did it not?"

Arcee drummed her fingers impatiently on a table, "Sorry to derail the drama-coaster," she said without the slightest hint of remorse, "but I enjoyed listening to this."

"Of course you would." Starscream muttered beneath his vocalizer, or so I guessed. It came out as a whimper.

Optimus came and sat down on the other side of Starscream, who had now tucked his helm beneath his arms and in between his knee plates. His slight chassis shook with sobs now, smaller, sporadic bursts of electricity running through him every now and then. "Optimus, I don't wanna die… I don't–" he sniffed, "just take me to MECH… I can't-I can't do this anymore." He looked up, optics slightly glassy. I cautiously rested a servo on his thigh plating, startled to feel that he was burning up. Figures, high fevers can make anyone loopy.

I bit my lip, unsure of what to do. So I leaned over and whispered in his audial, "If you think we're just going to give up on you, you could not be more wrong." Starscream showed no signs of registering my words.

"No one is taking you to MECH for whatever sinister things they would inflict upon you." Optimus said firmly. "Ratchet will find a cure, and we will save you."

The other Seeker didn't look reassured at all, if anything, he seemed even more downcast.

"What would you do if you weren't sure you'd be alive tomorrow?" He asked broodingly in a hushed whisper, lowering his arms and legs while his wings raised to about a halfway point.

"I'd try to do everything on my bucket list," Miko piped up and began to tick things off on her fingers, "dune bashing with Bulk, skydiving–"

"I'd do random acts of kindness." Raf said. "Like giving a stranger flowers, helping someone with their groceries, or walking an old lady across the street."

Bumblebee chirped in approval. The others looked like they agreed as well. Smokescreen stood forgotten on the fringe of the group, looking as though he had just attended a funeral. Starscream looked at me as though he'd been the one in the casket.

"I would slagging make sure those kids come back." I whispered to him.

His optics slowly widened, a new spark of something kindling inside of them that hadn't been there before. I wasn't sure what it was, hope, determination, fervor, rage, or some combination thereof. Perhaps it was just a renewed thirst for revenge, but I knew he hadn't given up yet.

"Seven," he said, "what would we do without you?"

"That's why I'm here."

Starscream took a deep intake and stood. "You know what? You're right." His wings twitched, "Let's."

I nodded at him in understanding while everyone else watched us with confusion. "It is for the best…"

"I do not understand," Optimus looked at Starscream with a tinge of worry in his optics.

I cocked my helm at him, "That's how we want it." With that, I transformed and rocketed out of the base, my double chasing after me on pede.

"No!" Ratchet gasped, and tried to stop us but we were already gone. I transformed and landed in a controlled slide, using my talons to slow myself against the floor. Starscream ran into the hallway from around a corner and sagged against a wall.

"You shouldn't have ran," I rebuked worriedly.

"A little late," he huffed, and pulled the ground bridge remote out from between his thigh plating. He opened a bridge, just as a storm of heavy, running pedfalls drew closer.

"Hurry!"