XL - De-Termination
The pair of doctors looked to me expectantly, waiting for some statement. Knock Out gave me a small smile as well, but it looked more nervous than reassuring. I clenched and unclenched my servos, staring up through a window in the ceiling above me to Cybertron's sky.
"I'll never be ready, but I have to do this. Starscream would do the same for me, I'm certain of that." After that shaky but resolute statement, everything passed by in a blur. Ratchet had me undergo a few systems checks and scans—mostly of my spark, I guessed, because it all took place around my chest plate. The same four words kept running through my helm: I'm going to die.
I'm going to die.
I'm going to die.
I'm going to die. Why am I doing this?! Willingly sacrificing my function…
"Try to relax, Seven. You're in shnoock. I'm going to give you a sedative; I'm sure you know what it feels like." Ratchet soothed, injecting a syringe into my elbow as he spoke softly. "You will still be able to speak with us until… well, Seven, just know that we're here for you. Just as Optimus said." he promised and forced me to look at him, smiling in a strained way. "Always will be."
I hardly noticed my vision acquire a vignette to it, or how the edges and colors of everything softened. "I–it'll be okay," I said thickly, knowing sure as Pit it was a lie. My glossa felt fuzzy, and turning thoughts into words proved to be more difficult with each passing moment. I couldn't see Knock Out's reaction, the other medic stood in the way. "Make sure Star is grateful."
"We will." Knock out said quietly from somewhere behind him. Suddenly they both were above me, saying their goodbyes that I barely registered. My arm felt like it was filled with lead as I raised it and brushed my talons over the center of my chest plate, giving them a weak smile.
Knock Out's optics welled up with lubricant as Seven's arm slid off his chest plate and hung limply off the edge of the berth. The ECG monitoring his spark's activity gave one final blip, and he was gone. Just like that.
Fighting to best his emotions, Ratchet grabbed a tool and opened Seven's chest plate. It split down the middle the way it was supposed to, exposing his spark chamber. There never had been a procedure even remotely like this done before, and it would require unconventional methods. That went without question. The Seeker's spark struggled up out of its place and hovered in the air for a few long seconds, seeming to absorb the light from the room and get its bearings. The pulsating silvery ball of energy almost gave the impression that it could see the two bots before it, standing agape.
"S-Seven?" Knock Out whimpered, watching it in awe through vision blurred by lubricant.
Then the spark fizzled out of existence with a loud crack! And both medics jumped back, cursing. Ratchet took several minutes running thorough scans of the Seekers' systems, but neither of them displayed any signs of life. Even Starscream had flatlined, to their horror.
The red medic was about to open a comm to the Prime when a quiet, raspy noise silenced him before he could make a noise. For a moment, neither of them could locate its source, that is, until Seven's optics flickered and came online at a dim setting.
"By the Allspark," Ratchet breathed, rushing over to his side. "Seven?"
The silver mech blinked a few times, not appearing to understand the medic's words. Ratchet helped him sit up and the Seeker mutely took in the room before him, essentially a cleaner, brighter version of the Harbinger's medical bay with updated equipment and devices. He looked down with a glazed expression and closed the halves of his chest plate. Knock out went over and clapped him on the back, grinning and looking shell-shocked at the same time. The two expressions did not go together.
Ratchet ushered the other medic away from him and went in front of the Seeker, who still gave the appearance of catatonia. "Seven, can you hear me?" he asked slowly, enunciating each word carefully, just to be sure.
Seven seemed to rise out a trance and met the white medic's azure gaze like he was seeing him for the first time. "Starscream?" he asked quietly.
Neither of them met his hopeful optics.
Knock Out sighed and rummaged around behind a desk for an AED, "I'll give it one last shot."
The red medic began to charge the device and a male, monotonous robotic voice rang out from it: "Charging… charging…"
Ratchet pressed a button on the top of the device which muted it, grumbling, "I hate talking machines."
Knock Out gave him a look and raised it above Starscream's chest plate, but before he could even lower it, the line on the other ECG's monitor blipped. The AED almost fell out of the medic's grasp and the three of them watched the screen, rapt. A few fluttering beats followed, but then they began to spike higher and higher, speeding up.
"By the Allspark," Ratchet breathed again and Knock Out dropped the AED.
I blinked up at a harsh light above me, having no clue as to where I was or what was going on. A few excited, no, ecstatic voices babbled over each other above me.
"Get… see… th… way… Sev…"
"Primus! Ra… can't… lieve this… he-he's–" the mech was at an obvious loss for words. Another voice made what sounded like an excited squeal.
My senses gradually came into focus and as if it was a perceptible change, the small huddle of bots swarmed me. A silver one with large wings that had red stripes on their ends wriggled closer between the two others, towering over me. He was vaguely familiar, but I wasn't sure if that massive grin belonged on him or not.
"Star?" he asked. His familiar voice triggered a memory, which triggered another, and suddenly I was drowning in them. There were so many that at first I could see a few, watch them, even, but soon enough it was like my entire function had been put on fast-forward. Thousands of years became flashes and and then only blurs of light and color, while I was assaulted with a cacophony of overlapping sounds that I wasn't even sure I was hearing. There were a few above me that were louder than the others, though…
It was like I had been doused in frigid water. "Starscream, can you hear me? Starscream?!" one shrieked.
"Not again!"
"Don't lose him!"
"RATCHET!"
The icy feeling had left, and now my chest plate was on fire. I clawed at it, gasping for air. I was drowning, which shouldn't have been possible but there was no mistaking the choking feeling as I struggled to gulp down air. I swore that my chest plating was melting, dripping and oozing over my fingers as I clenched it, screaming my vocalizer raw.
"Get the AED again, he's going into arrest!" A gruff voice barked, sounding staticky through my audials.
The metal bubbled over my servos and up my neck cables. I writhed beneath it, trying to get the horrifying stuff off. Defying gravity, it slid over my faceplates and into my mouth, down my throat, scalding and blinding me. I gasped, choking and gagging as my visual abruptly cut out.
"His spark can't handle his chassis!" A voice I recognized as Knock Out's exclaimed frantically.
"It's been supporting itself along for too long, I should have foreseen this…" another trailed off before my audio input vanished as well, and the world became wholly and completely black.
"Seven, I'm so sorry," Ratchet said, coming over to me as I stared mutely at my double, who had been alive just a second ago. Knock Out took the AED and administered a powerful jolt to my double's chest plate that now had scratch marks crisscrossing it. Ratchet was saying something but I wasn't listening, watching intensely as the red medic prepared to shock the other Seeker again. This time Starscream's chest jerked up off the med berth and collapsed back onto it, his optics flickering on then back off. The ECG displayed spikes again, weaker than last time, but with equal intervals between them.
"His optics are blue," I whispered. "Did either of you do that?"
They shook their helms. "Blue must have been their natural color, until he changed them to red. It isn't a hard thing to do. They have been reverted to their original state, along with the rest of him."
"So is he a sparkling? In his helm, I mean?" I asked tentatively.
Knock Out let out a tense chuckle, "No, thankfully. We should keep an optic on him, but until he wakes up, there isn't much to do."
"He's recharging?" I asked, stunned.
"Unconscious, actually. But alive." Ratchet corrected, pulling up a visual of a scan of his processor taken moments ago. "I'll give him an energon IV and a light sedative, they should be able to ease the transition for his spark. Having a physical form once again may take some getting used to."
An idea struck me. "Would we be able to do this with Breakdown or Cliffjumper? Even the other clones?" I wondered, looking to Knock Out and then Ratchet.
"They do not have clones, so no. It isn't possible. I'm sorry. Their chassis are at rest, but their memories will live on." the white medic said quietly.
I wilted.
Knock Out cleared his vocalizer, "Shall we check in on the others? Perhaps let them hear the good news?"
"No," Ratchet said immediately.
My wings snapped up, "Why? It isn't like we need to hear how their side of things is going," I said sarcastically.
"That is precisely my point," the older medic maintained, "contacting them will only distract them from their task. We will hear from them when they are finished."
"Not soon enough," I muttered. "I will watch him."
"For how long?" Knock Out asked.
"The rest of the day and the night." I clarified. "And those after that, until he wakes. I am not giving either of you a choice in the matter."
"You do not have any medical training–"
"You said he is unconscious. It has happened to me plenty of times, and each time I woke up, I have been fine. So has he, as a matter of fact." I crossed my arms in triumph.
"Have fun staying awake the whole night," Knock Out drawled and topped it off with a little wave, leaving. Ratchet followed, shooting a glance back at me.
I started awake, feeling like something had just been right up in my faceplates. A second later I realized the searing liquid metal was gone, and with it was any memory of the pain it brought. It could have been a nightmare for all I knew.
Everything felt so quiet, but then I realized that the assault of memories had ceased as well, thank Primus. Upon further investigation, I found them all tucked away where the should be and breathed a sigh of relief. My vision was sharper than it had been last, which prodded me to wonder why the room I was in seemed so much empiter and darker. I stared up through a skylight in the ceiling and the night sky greeted me, a large, metallic moon blotting out half of it. My optics widened, I'm on Cybertron. I'm dead and this is the Allspark… but then why did it hurt so much, and why is it so cold and dark? I mused, nervousness tingling my spinal struts. I checked my internal clock and discovered that it was about two in the morning. Well, that explained that, and now it was no surprise why I felt so cold.
The second thing I noticed was a small army of machines with lines snaking out of them, hooked up to various places on my chassis. Surprisingly, I felt fine, but I could barely lift my left arm to grasp the base of a cable that was connected to the center of my chest plate, where the Decepticon insignia was. I expected to be weak, of course, but not this much. My systems must have atrophied from lack of use.
"Hm, being dead might do that to a bot." I muttered wryly beneath my vocalizer, not surprised at all to hear how raspy my voice sounded. I almost repeated myself.
I looked down and immediately could tell that I was right, having clearly lost a good amount of weight that I couldn't afford to lose. Amused, I thought that a human would argue that Cybertronians can't actually gain or lose weight like they can, which is true to some degree. Save for a few exceptions like faceplates, the metal that makes up we Cybertronians is not flexible like human skin. But, like the latter, it can grow or waste away depending on the individual's energon consumption, coupled with some other factors. I had always been thin, but now I looked starved and my silvery paint had lost its sheen. However, these things were reparable, and they would give me something to do to appease the doctors. They would undoubtedly take care of me and force me to take intense care of myself for a long time. And I was perfectly fine with that.
I sighed tiredly at the ceiling, "So much for getting up and surprising the others."
A slight movement in the corner of my vision snatched my attention, and I craned my neck cables to see its source. Seven was recharging in the shadows against the wall, and judging by the way he was slumped, he had been trying to stay alert but succumbed. I smiled bemusedly and tried to sit up, but only made it a few feet before I just couldn't hold myself up any longer.
Seven shifted at the scraping noise my wings made against the berth and a dim, crimson glow appeared as he opened his optics. He pushed himself into a better sitting position and got up, looking around. His optics grew wide and a wider, astounded grin split his faceplates as they fell onto me. He hastily opened a comm, "Starscream's awake!"
As my double scrambled over to my side, I saw my stunned reflection in his chest plate. A jagged black streak wound down the right side of my faceplates and chest plate, slashing through the Decepticon insignia and my optics were sky-blue. They were the exact same hue as Optimus', instead of Megatron's. I barely registered the change, too caught up in my double's reaction.
"Star… Primus–what do I say…" he trailed off, awestruck. "You're back," he breathed. "You are actually back… I can't believe it, not sick at all… but you look starved…"
"What day is it?" I asked raspily.
He thought for a second, "November third."
I blinked, shocked by how much time had passed. "Months… I was dead for months," I whispered shakily. But another thought suddenly struck me, dragging me back into a memory: a few days after Halloween, last year. I looked up to Seven, "Strange coincidence, isn't it?"
His optics flickered in confusion, "What do you mean?"
"Happy birthday, Sev."
His optics widened. "I'm a year old?"
"I suppose so, I think I can count from zero to one." A shiver ran through my frame, "Did the good doctors just pull me from a cooler?" I asked, feeling another.
"You're as whiny as ever," he smirked slightly and swayed on his pedes, looking like he was about to faint.
"You are one to talk." I countered. "Please don't fall on me. I won't be able to push you off."
He ignored my remark, "I have just the thing," my double darted out of my line of sight and came back a minute later, bearing a bulky blanket with tattered edges. "Will this be enough, my lordship?"
I chuckled softly, "Quite. By the way, you promised you would return and you didn't."
"Do you have any control over your dreams?" he gave me a look. "A lot has been going on, if you can't tell." I rolled my optics at that. "Does this look familiar?" he asked, holding the blanket higher with an almost mischievous smirk on his faceplates.
I looked at it harder, "No…" he unfurled the thing and I gawked at it. Yes. Large, hand-stitched words greeted me from the center of the quilt: GET WELL SOON. Seven lowered it slightly and grinned at my expression.
"Help me up?" I asked quietly, still transfixed on the blanket.
"Absolutely."
Seven placed the quilt at the foot of my berth and disconnected all the cables from their various places on my frame, which took some doing. He slid an arm behind my shoulder plates, easing me off the berth and to my pedes. I could barely even keep my wings up, but I slowly felt my strength returning. My right leg performed just as well as my left, to my amazement. He nudged me to draw my attention away from gawking at it, chuckling.
"You're staring at everything like a sparkling that's just seen the world for the first time," he said. "And doesn't quite know what to make of it."
"I feel like one…" I breathed, leaning heavily on him for support with an arm wrapped around his back. My double grabbed the thick quilt with his free arm and offered it to me. I gratefully accepted it and pulled the thing snug around my shoulder plates, sighing in pleasure at the immediate warmth it brought.
"Can you stand on your own?" He asked, turning his helm to look at me.
I nodded, and he gingerly stepped away. My legs held. I trailed after him as he strode over to the door, about to open it from the inside. But I took another step and my knee buckled without warning, sending the rest of me to the floor. I let out a surprised yelp and Seven was at my side in an instant, helping me back up again.
"Just stay there, would you?" He said, backing up slowly and lowered his servos.
My wings twitched, "No promises."
He opened the door for real this time and I caught snatches of conversation behind it, unsure yet of who was who.
"What about them?" someone asked.
"Airachnid and CYLAS will carry out their sentences in the brig." another answered.
"It's less than they deserve." a new voice growled.
Then the door fully opened and a multitude of bots burst through the opening, freezing in their tracks as they saw me. Arcee, Bumblebee, Smokescreen, Bulkhead, Ultra Magnus, Knock Out, Ratchet, even Wheeljack, and last but not least, Optimus Prime.
None of them said a word.
I saw that another bot stood behind them, as tall as Optimus. Except his optics were ruby-red, just like Seven's, and his faceplates were just as familiar. Perhaps even more so. Seven saw where I was looking before I could panic and came closer, "Before you woke up, we had a summit with the Decepticons. There is a truce between the two sides now, and we are planning on slowly dissolving both factions. Neither Autobots nor Decepticons will exist anymore. I'm sorry that you missed it, but we weren't able to wake you up."
"Peace," I whispered. The word was foreign, even more than an alien world could ever hope to be. What would I do, with the war over? What would any of us do? Fighting was all we knew, we had been doing it for thousands of years. Could we change our ways, and if we could, would it be for the better?
The bots surged around me. Megatron watched from the background, smirking slightly, no trace of malice in those orbs for once. I glanced at my brother, as he looked to me. Maybe we could. It would take time, but we could.
His wings fluttered gently, "This is most definitely a dream come true."
I smiled, "It most definitely is." I then addressed them all with a grin and spoke as loudly as I could, "Well, we did it. We all did it."
The room burst into applause.