Merry-late-holidays! Look at that, a chapter hot off the press. Very cool, very neat :)

I definitely planned to get this out after the new year, definitely not before. I'm just impeccably on time. I always am. (Also, I definitely wasn't editing/writing this during the holidays with my family. Oh no sir. That would be crazy.)

The tube and I zoomed through darkness, I was tossed left and right, or at least that's what it felt like. The stasis field was doing its job to keep me perfectly in place, but that didn't stop my internal organs from deciding to reshuffle themselves. The hiss and scream of compressed air were muffled by the glass, occasionally I'd see a speck of light zip by unbelievably fast, and every so often during one of our many turns my container would strike some unseen edge and rattle me. The nausea was bad, but being jolted around blind did tend to do that to a person.

Why would I think this was possibly going to be fun?

Then amazingly, it was. Things calmed down, and I could feel myself zooming by at an incredible speed. It was actually sort of exhilarating, like I was backseat in the world's fastest racecar.

Then amazingly, it wasn't fun anymore.

The twists and turns resumed full force, and I tried my best, both to not have a panic attack, and to avoid having my stomach flip inside out.

I wasn't sure if it had been a single minute or ten, but the sound of air died down, and dreamily everything drifted slowly to a stop. I opened my eyes. Still all darkness—oh

The blackness clicked open, grayish light fell in, and I was looking out of another hole in the wall, but in a very different place.

I noticed two things at once. Firstly, my glass tube had just slid open. Secondly, I was upside down.

I braced myself for impact.

But slowly, gently—with my shoulders still squeezed against the sides of the glass—I slid, anticlimactically, down, to the bottom, of the tube. The top of my head tapped the bottom.

Huh. ok.

The room I had arrived at was empty. There was a table, an open door, a long blacked-out window or mirror thing on the wall, and that was it. The lights seemed dim compared to the Medbay, but not dim as if the bulbs were crappy, dim like someone had made them dim.

Blood was rushing to my head.

I wiggled, squirmed, and shifted. My legs swung forwards, flipping me upright, and I toppled from the tube.

My feet hit the floor, my knees buckled, and I fell in an ungraceful heap. I groaned. That fall had definitely been a few seconds too long. I rolled onto my back and groaned again, the panel I had dropped from looked at least a story off the ground, maybe more. The metal panel had stayed open, and I could still see the glint of the tube within, but it was entirely inaccessible to me. A problem to figure out later. Ravage first, then consequences later. Still, I took an extra moment to stare at and mourn my inconvenient escape tube.

Count my blessings: I didn't break a bone or twist an ankle from the fall. Tell me to jump off a roof at home and I was certain that horrible injury was guaranteed, but if I was learning anything from this nightmare of an experience, it was that the human body was resilient.

I sat up, rubbing my bruised head. Or, maybe I had resilient luck. Actually, yes. I deserved some resilient luck after this ridiculous scenario I had found myself in. If I had told my past-self that I'd be rolling around an alien spaceship within the same 24 hours that I had taken a precalc quiz…

Speaking of smarts and ridiculous things, did Brainstorm send me to the right place? My knees wobbled when I pushed myself to my feet, and with some difficulty, I made my way to the large table at the center of the room. My legs still felt shocked from the fall.

This had been such a bad idea, I knew that. I was probably going to be in huge trouble, as much as I wanted to believe I could pull this off, the more I thought about it, the more I was certain someone would find out. Maybe I'd be locked up in a jar for real. But what else was there? I had doomed Earth and I was alone. I had to do everything I could to give Earth a chance, and if that meant running myself into the literal ground, so be it.

The air around me felt thick and stale but I had yet to pass out. I could have killed myself just now, had there been no oxygen. Feeling frayed as a string, I shrugged the thought off. I thought of my dad, and then our hikes together. How I missed being outside, around trees, touching grass. And smells, oh I missed all the smells, of dirt, wood, and pine, of pancakes in the morning when Dad could go into work late, even the smell of the rubber and cheap floor polish at the high school. Oh, and fabric softener, warm fresh clothes out of the dryer. I felt my hair, it already felt oily and gross. A scalding hot shower, shampoo, soap, toothpaste, fresh clothes…

I felt the broken seams of the pocket where my phone would have been. I wished I could at least look at photos of home or maybe even listen to my music.

I sighed. I moved under the table towards the open door. The room around me had remained deadly silent but I knew how quickly that could change.

I could see that the open door led to a hall: surprise, surprise. I tried not to think of who had left it open in the first place. If Brainstorm really had dumped me in the right place, hopefully it led somewhere useful. I crossed the gap to the door. It was a very small snippet of hallway, with the lights dimmed down as well. Reminding me of an airlock, this hallway was framed on either side with very heavy-looking doors. I didn't get the impression that it was an actual airlock. It just seemed like a security measure. Maybe things were pointing in a good direction after all, even the weird interrogation-esque room I had arrived in now seemed to make more sense.

Dull red light caught my eye. The door to my left had a sliver of red bleeding through. I squinted. The heavy thing had been slid and left open just a crack, in fact, it looked like it had been opened just enough for me to squeeze through. Brainstorm, I realized. He had made me a path? Had he actually been looking out for me? Dropping me off in an inconspicuous room and opening doors to guide me, I bet he even had been the one to dim the lights. Was it to not draw attention? Because the cracked open door seemed to suggest that. It was a little touching.

He could have given me a ladder. But still very touching.

I took a step into the hall, then another. When I looked back everything seemed as it was: the tube, the panel, the desk, the door. I quickly moved down the hall.

I didn't expect much from Ravage. I still remembered how he had looked at me: cold, red glowing eyes. I was on his enemy's team, as far as he was concerned, but more than that, the vibe I had gotten from him seemed…less than friendly all around. Maybe he'd be willing to talk with me, or maybe he wouldn't.

I peeked through the crack in the heavy door and my heart hammered now. Time for the difficult and scary part.

The door was several feet thick, so much so that it was hard to get a good look from the other side of it, but I could tell it opened to a much larger space. Scents were wafting in, exchanging the stale air for a sort of acidic mix: diluted yet pungent things like the inside of a tire shop or degreaser. I really did not want to wedge myself between a wall and a door that was several feet thick. I shuffled in sideways with only inches for wiggle room.

I guessed half my goal was just seeing the state Ravage was in: strung up, clamped down, shoved in a small cell, surrounded by guards, or any other nasty predicament. It probably wouldn't bode well for Earth if he was in pieces. Would I even be able to find him? Somehow it felt possible, maybe it was the fact that Brainstorm seemed to be backing me up. But, I wasn't about to dismiss that perhaps there really wasn't much air in here, and I was only pushing forwards on some hypoxia fuelled delusion. Confidence was confidence, I guessed.

Was it bad I still felt worried for Ravage? I knew he was the reason the stakes had gotten this bad, I mean he had called the Decepticons to us. But he didn't seem evil, like the way Misdirect or Ratchet talked about him. Or at least his actions didn't seem evil. More than ever, I knew what it was like to feel alone with no backup, and I was certainly finding out just the sorts of crazy lengths someone would go to if lives were on the line.

CRASH

I froze. It sounded like something large and heavy had been thrown.

THUNK

The echoes faded, and erupting from the same direction came a frenzy of scratching and scraping.

I scrambled back the way I came. Back in my safe, gloomy, hall, I tried to collect myself. What in the world was that? Who's throwing things? My clammy hands were pressed to my chest and I swallowed a few mouthfuls of air. The scratching continued, louder, then softer, then none. It all seemed to have come from much farther down in the new space, not close to me at all. With any luck, it was from someone locked up and not from someone out there roaming the floor. A little reassuring, not much, but a little. Maybe it was Ravage, it would sure make everything so much easier. But holy hell.

More than ever I wished Misdirect were here. He would have smiled and told me I was glitching or something. Or we'd be scared together, and somehow that would make things feel better. I stared at the door, at the red ominous glow, and a thought came to mind: In Ghostbusters II, when the river of slime was found. I chortled to myself. It was like that actually: all the red spooky lighting and strange noises. As a kid, I had been terrified.

I imagined telling this observation to Misdirect and then having to go on some long tedious explanation about ghosts, cinema, and ectoplasm or something, and even after all that he'd probably still shake his head, like I had said the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

I had to be brave. For Misdirect, for Earth. And for… an image of Melody surfaced without warning, it was the sight of her body twisted into the metal. It was a flood through my head. Not now, please not now! I couldn't read my emotions, but they were heavy, and consuming, and draining. At last, I shivered as if shaking it from me, and finally I could breathe again. I released my jaw and aching teeth. I felt moisture in my eyes.

Have I ever been this scattered before? I had no idea. It felt like I hadn't slept in days. But, there was no stopping any of this now, I had to face this new reality sooner or later. I squeezed Melody's badge in my pocket and slipped back into the door.

~~~Earth~~~

...I love you, tell David I love him too. See you both soon.

The words appeared, letter by letter, as the incoming pulses were decoded. Half a dozen weary scientists read along with rapt impatience, a buzz of excitement slowly growing within the room.

"Contact established," Someone said, and the comment received polite murmurs of amusement. They weren't out of the woods yet, but it was sure as hell a milestone. Their very first message from whoever rested on the other side of this disaster, no one had expected it to come from Kathrine. Miller was nearly inconsolable.

Pulses had been coming in for hours now, and it hadn't taken long for the team to figure out that these incoming pulses were a part of a looping pattern. It was a code, for an alphabet they could use to communicate. Whoever had been sending these pulses was clearly eager to get in touch. Miller's team had spent most of their time rigging up something to safely return their own pulses. It had been the brunt of their work, but in record time they had managed to stitch something together. Their own exploratory pulse had been sent back, and immediately Kathrine's message had flooded in.

Against all odds, his daughter was alive. Miller placed a hand over his ticking watch. It was nearly 10am. 17 hours of worry and stress, of hoping against all odds she had survived, and somehow by a miracle, she had. He turned from the screen in tears.

A tissue was immediately offered, it smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, tainted from the hours of smoking within the room. Miller took it gratefully. The tissue had come from none other than Dr. Moore. Of course, it was her, there could be no other so prepared. He still remembered when once, from her purse, Dr. Moore had procured a set of jumper cables, ready to assist when Miller's car had failed to turn.

When he had collected himself, Miller looked into Dr. Moore's tired face and saw the joy brimming her eyes.

"Now, we get her back to us," She said.

The team had all refused to go home. The cramped control room had become lived in, with stained paper coffee cups, energy drink cans, and surprisingly, a few pizzas. The other departments in the facility had chipped in however they could, even the site directors had left them to their work for the most part. Pizzas and drinks would appear and empty boxes and cups would disappear. A saucepan had even shown up at some point for the team to discard their cigarette butts into. Miller had no clue where someone had gotten the thing, he didn't think even Dr. Moore had emergency kitchen pots stowed away.

John's voice filled the room, "What are we sending back?"

All eyes turned to Miller. He had spent the past hours debating with himself what their first message would be. Occasionally, he admitted the thought had come to him, about whether their coordinate readings were true, in which case he'd be formulating a message, the first message, between humans and extraterrestrials. It was a daunting and ridiculous thought, it made him itch to pick up the phone and pass this responsibility to someone far more qualified. But, they had made a promise, all of them in that room had, that not a word would slip about this discovery until they had gotten everyone back home. He eventually had decided it was best to start simple. Simple and direct. They had a crisis to undo first.

He cleared his throat, "Hello."

"Strong start," John said. He too looked worse for wear, with his wrinkled stained shirt and overgrown sandy hair matted from dried sweat. But, everyone looked haggard, to say the least, even Dr. Moore's crispness had lost its edge.

Miller continued, "We are… contacting you on behalf of Division 7, operating under the United States government, may we ask who we are speaking with?"

John typed the message quickly. He was always dumped with being the report writer and note-taker of the team. He didn't seem to ever mind, it actually seemed like he enjoyed it.

No more than half a minute could have passed before John straightened in his chair.

"We've got a response."

The team crowded in once more. John read the words as they appeared.

Took you long enough.

Looks were passed around and there was a small chorus of relieved chuckles. Another message followed the first:

Brains and Percy here. Sincere congratulations regarding this mess you've made. I vote sorting this out before we all die.

"Straight down to business," John leaned back in his chair, "No complaints from me."

The team murmured in agreement.

Miller took a breath, and when he exhaled he felt as if a looming weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Still, in the back of his head, a voice reminded him of the coordinates. By all means, these people shouldn't be on Earth, or anywhere remotely close to the solar system. But, if they weren't in fact people, they sure did a good job sounding like them.

Dr. Moore leaned in past Miller, "Ask them about the others. Are they with Kathrine?"

She was referring to the other missing persons. Security tapes had been pulled, witness reports had been collected, and head counts had been counted and recounted. The number had remained the same: three people had been taken. Taped to the glass of the control room was the printed report, the three names highlighted:

Henry Stewart

Kathrine Miller

Melody Thomas

John spoke aloud while he typed out the message, "You have Kathrine. Are Thomas and Stewart with her?"

Kathrine functions. Melody Thomas has expired. No further organics onboard.

They were indeed speaking to two individuals, the stark tone shift was evident enough of that. Miller frowned at the message. He was starting to see some unique language. 'Onboard,' they had said. Onboard what exactly?

There was no mistaking what 'expired' meant. Miller could see it on the faces around him. The news had been anticipated, but somehow it still felt raw. Their invention had killed someone.

"Cause of death," Miller asked. John typed.

Melody Thomas expired on arrival from physical fusion with a wall.

Miller winced, "And Stewart?"

Unknown. Scans indicate the presence of only two organics onboard: Kathrine and Melody Thomas.

Onboard. There was that word again. Theories were already spinning through Miller's head, but he tried to keep them contained.

He addressed the team, "We're certain about Stewart?"

Everyone already knew the answer.

Dr. Moore spoke, "They found footage when it happened, Stewart's out there somewhere."

John spoke again as he typed, "Requesting continued search for Henry Stewart. Three missing persons confirmed."

Affirmative.

Another message flitted in. The tone shift was jarring, but for Miller, not exactly unwelcome.

Alright squishies, we've got work to do.