Heyo, writer person again. This may be a bit shorter than usual, but I wanted to give you guys another chapter for being so patient with that long break I took. Hopefully this story will get back on schedule.

Things are looking up as of late, so I hope you all are doing well too. Enjoy, friends!

Also, here's the discord if you'd like to join: /AzW56m2Ebq

"Someone said food? My stomach is trying to turn inside out as we speak."

Misdirect froze, "Really?

"Not really. It's an expression," I had an arm wrapped over my stomach.

"It's painful for you when you're low on fuel?" He asked.

"It's not for you?"

Brainstorm approached with something in his hands, and he deposited it into Misdirect's cupped hands, "Fresh from the fabricator. Hurry up, we got stuff to do."

Misdirect turned to me, offering me what he now held. It was a pile of pale blue bricks. I recognized the familiar shape of the food-bricks and groaned.

"Now hold on," Misdirect said, "This is a new formula, the humans helped us with it."

"Really?"

His cupped hands nudged closer, prompting me to tentatively pick up one of the bricks. It was kinda squishy like a very firm marshmallow. I sniffed it. It smelled faintly sweet. The last food-brick I was subjected to had smelled of chemicals and farts and had been as hard as a literal… well, as hard as a literal brick. So being able to bite into it at all was already a vast improvement. I took a small bite off one of the corners and chewed.

There wasn't really a distinct flavor, just sweet with a mildly bitter medicine-like aftertaste. Not bad though. The texture was too firm to be a marshmallow, it was actually more gummy-like than I had first thought. My stomach accepted the offering more than happily.

And just like that, all at once the only thing that mattered in the whole wide world was this marshmallow-medicine brick thing. I tore into it, ripping chunks off with my teeth, barely chewing before swallowing. God, I was hungry.

In what felt like moments, half the marshmallow brick was gone. My stomach hurt from eating so fast but the feeling of fullness was unparalleled. Immediately a wave of exhaustion swept over me. I set the half-eaten marshmallow brick aside. Misdirect was staring, looking at me with some mix of disgust and amazement.

"Woah, uh…? You just…?" He leaned in closer, reaching a giant hand towards the half-brick. Jokingly, I swatted at his metal fingers and hissed at him. He pulled back with a startled look.

Good heavens, he thought I was literally feral. "I'm joking, you butt. Take it." I picked up the half-brick and chucked it to him. He didn't even make an attempt to catch it, which was fair because compared to him the brick was more like a tiny pebble. My bad aim had the thing bouncing off his shoulder, it fell and disappeared below the table. There was a muted thunk when it bounced off the floor.

"Should you be wasting fuel like that," Misdirect said. Glancing where the food brick had fallen.

"Probably not," I said.

Someone cleared their throat behind me and I turned to see Ratchet standing there with his arms crossed. He had an unamused look on his face.

"Kathrine." His expression was curt. "I see you are functioning as reported. Any new pains, leaks, or gouges you'd like to bring to my attention?"

I sat up straight, "I should apologize."

"Should you?"

"Yes. You deserve one."

"What an honor, I'm flattered."

"Ratchet."

He had turned and was pretending to be busy at one of the monitors, he wasn't even typing anything in, just glaring at the screen from what I could tell. "You've said your apology." His attention snapped to me with sudden urgency "When were you going to tell me about that infection in your arm?" His hands darted around the desk, snatching up supplies.

Right. My arm. I had been trying to ignore the throbbing in fear of what it meant. I knew it was some sort of infection, but hearing the confirmation had anxiety sparkling in my chest. An infection on a ship with no antibiotics. How many times did infections get bad enough for antibiotics? I'd never been to the hospital for any small ones like an ingrown nail. They'd always gone away on their own. But what if I got something like sepsis here?

I held my arm out and Ratchet's surprisingly swift fingers began removing the bandage without so much of a hint of pressure on the swollen area.

I watched his hands, not wanting to attempt to make the eye contact he'd be unwilling to give me anyway. The gauze-like bandage was removed revealing the slice on my arm, the wound had started scabbing up, but the flesh around it was unsurprisingly puffed up and angry. But really, it looked no worse than any other infection I'd had before. Or at the very least, it didn't look bad bad.

My relief didn't go unnoticed. Ratchet gave me a scathing look, "Oh, so this is acceptable to you then? And how specifically do we treat this?" He was looking at me with clear frustration, like a teacher whose student was repeatedly failing at the basics. "Yes, I'm asking you. Communicating with your planet is tedious enough as it is. Do you think we have time to discuss matters of your biology while we try to send you home? Shall I remind you that these are not toys," he spread his arms wide at the massive medical machines that had been rolled beside my metal bed. They beeped and flickered and hummed with purpose. "We are trying our best to keep you alive, and if that means sealing you in quarantine I won't hesitate."

My cheeks flushed, Misdirect looked like he wanted to interject and tried to get between us but Ratchet kept going, "You have no idea the danger you put yourself in." He pointed to me, "The only reason you are still functioning right now is because Ultra Magnus had the foresight to oxygenate this entire ship, including the brig. Because he guessed, with greater accuracy than myself, your propensity to get yourself where you shouldn't be."

Misdirect finally got between us, his voice quiet, "Ratchet, don't talk to her that way. She had good reasons."

Ratchet gave up and turned again to the closest monitor with a huff, "Good reasons still get people killed."

I was staring up at him, embarrassed and clueless. Misdirect looked between us, as if expecting one of us to break the moment of tension. I sure as hell wasn't.

Ratchet sighed at last. A long deep one. He turned to me, "You understand if you do this again you will no longer be leaving my sight. In fact, if I leave this room for even a moment, it's directly into quarantine with you. Unlike yourself, I am not willing to risk your life."

The world around me felt muted. I mainly felt exhausted. "You're right, I'm sorry. I was just scared."

Ratchet looked at Misdirect. Misdirect was pouting, "Ratchet, c'mon."

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds, then studied me for another few, then crossed his arms, then sighed one more time. He sounded tired too. "It was my decision to leave you behind. I have that responsibility. I'm sorry for that." He nodded. I nodded. He continued, "I will not go back on my decision. When you are out of sight, you are in quarantine. For now, you can remain out. I consider this extremely fair."

I wasn't really about to argue.

With that, he was back to business. "So, the infection. How should we proceed?" He asked me.

Hearing him uncertain was making me uncertain too. "Let's put more peroxide on it and wash it out. Without antibiotics it will either get better on its own or…"

"Or?" Misdirect asked.

"It won't," Ratchet said. "Infections are a common condition across most species. It's built on a simple principle: something gets in that shouldn't. We should monitor its progression with extreme care."

I reached for my backpack, "I'll draw a circle around it."

There was silence above me as I searched for a pen. When I looked up they were looking at me, bewildered. Ratchet spoke with clear condescension, "Is this a human medical belief?"

I admit I was a bit miffed. "This isn't some superstitious thing, there's a reason for it," I gestured for them to look. Ratchet looked like he was willing himself to have energy and patience for this conversation and Misdirect had an annoying little smile, like he was finding me cute.

"Draw your circle, fella," Misdirect said.

"No," I said, pointing to my arm with the pen, "It's for monitoring, you draw a circle around it and—" They had those same stupid looks on their faces. I crossed my arms, "What is this?" I demanded.

Misdirect was reassuring me like a child, "Look fella, we all have different beliefs about medicine, and science and stuff. But go ahead, draw your circle. I'm sure it will help."

"Oh shut the fuck up," I complained, "It's real. Just look, will you? You draw a circle," I explained, popping the cap off the pen and starting to trace around the red puffiness on my arm. I only got halfway with Misdirect's snickering. I looked up, moving the pen away, "This isn't some superstitious human thing. I swear. It's a real thing." I was giggling a little bit too now. I finished drawing my circle. "Look, now if the redness gets bigger, we'll see it. No, look at it. For real." Misdirect finally squinted at it.

"I'm not primitive. Jesus, you guys."

Ratchet looked at the circle and sighed so deep that had he had lungs he probably would have lost consciousness by the time he was finished. I took it as a sign that my solution was reluctantly acceptable.

"So you're talking to Earth?" I asked as Ratchet applied more peroxide and rebandaged my arm. "And what about Megatron?"

"Optimus and the others will be here soon enough. Megatron can wait till then." Ratchet's voice came down from above me and shadowed me. His chest in front of me I got to see his armor move like the living thing he was, it also looked like the front of a car, it even had what looked like headlights. I still couldn't believe they could just transform into things. Actually, that wasn't right. It wasn't like they were transforming into something different, it was like they were taking a different shape. Bee still seemed just as much like Bee in either form. Just as much grace and personality. Even as Ratchet worked, I could see Bee messing around with Misdirect, transforming once or twice to zip around on the floor. It seemed like transforming and changing small parts of their bodies was just a part of the language, like they were emoting with their whole forms.

Ratchet stepped back and I admired the bandages. I was mildly alarmed to have another shadow drop over me. I looked up to see Brainstorm. Behind him was the corner of the medbay he and Perceptor had claimed. Three tables had been burdened with screens and equipment. The original piece of machinery that Brainstorm had lugged in when I had met him the very first time was now lost in the mess of other shabby machine-creations. It really looked like they were making this up as they went, piecing whatever they could together to make this unfortunate quantum situation work. Staring at this jumble and tangle of machines was a bit frightening. It was like listening to my own heartbeat. Feeling each thump and waiting in the silence for the next thump, realizing how easily that thump could have been the very last. How easy it would be to lose everything. That's what staring at those machines felt like. It felt like I could see just how fragile this all was.

A massive white metal hand filled my view. In its fingers was pinched a tiny device. Just having been brought from my thoughts, I stared at this offering dumbfounded, momentarily forgetting what to do when faced with a fist the size of a person. The impatient hand plopped the small deceive onto my lap, it was no bigger than a phone. I picked it up. Actually…

"You fixed my phone!" I said delighted.

Brainstorm scoffed. "No, squishy, I did not re-create your garbage device. This is better. Possibly trillions of times smarter than anything you humans have."

I turned it over in my hands. It looked almost exactly like my phone, just a bit shiner and I noticed the cameras and buttons had been placed slightly differently. When I clicked the power button my normal lock screen came up. I looked up at him. "But it has everything my phone did?"

"That and more!" He said. I had just unlocked the phone to reveal my normal home screen when the device was plucked from my hands. With a look that said 'watch this!' he slapped the device on the table hard enough to make me wince and then pulled back a fist.

I threw my hands up, stunned. "Don't break it!"

His fist was slammed down on top of it. I literally lept to my feet, ears practically ringing. "What the hell was that for? Don't do that, not so close to me!"

He laughed it off, "Squishy," he moved to reveal the device perfectly intact, "It's Optimus-Proof." The goofiness in his voice slipped into impatience, "Also I can't continue without you, so hurry up."

"Let her be," Ratchet said, "Give her a moment to rest before you go snatching her around."

With an additional look from Midirect, Brainstorm groaned and sulked back to his corner, muttering. I had to agree, I wanted to speak to Earth more than anything. But Ratchet had been right as usual, I'd probably collapse if I tried to jump right into things again. I needed a second to breathe. I tapped through my phone, flicking through old conversations and photos, and just about cried again. I tapped on my music and to my delight the phone had speakers too. I sat with my brick and my water and with soft music playing from my brand-new phone. And I sighed.

"Relaxing are we?" Misdirect said. "Is that Earth music? Can I listen?"

I took a big bite of the marshmallow brick and spoke muffled as I chewed, "As if you haven't gone through everything I have on there."

He shrugged, "It's different when it's shown to you."

"Oh, eavesdropping and snooping aren't so fun now huh?" I said.

"I didn't know looking through it was a bad thing. And besides, you're one to talk."

Instead of answering I took another big bite of brick and he laughed. Despite the easy mood, my thoughts soon drifted to Megatron and then at last to Henry. What a horrible reality that Henry must be facing. Alone, hungry, cold, lightyears away from home with no clue as to what was going on. I was reminded of a story I heard when I was a kid, of a recorded case of a man being swallowed by a whale. He was swept overboard during a hunt and was thought to be dead for three days before his whaling ship caught the very whale that took him. He was found alive in the stomach, fetal and blinded by the stomach acid. The log said the man had never recovered his sight and suffered from terrors after the event. Henry was in that belly of the beast. Was he even alive? Was he on the brink of death and every moment we spent waiting was time he didn't have?

I forced myself to my feet. "We gotta save Henry."