Author's Notes: Nothing to report my dears! I just hope everyone had a great week and will enjoy this latest update!
Date: March 16th 2021 Memorial Station
Bumblebee
It had been the absolute worst case scenario. It had also, in hindsight, been the most obvious trap both Bot and Cons waltzed right into. While their unified force had been focused on capturing Nitro Zeus, Mohawk, and Dreadbot, some unseen enemy had been waiting in the wings. Poised to attack what would have been the most important focal point of their race that very night.
Who? Why? What did anyone have to gain going to such great lengths to attack a place of resting war heroes? Ultra Magnus' briefing was short and did not answer any of these questions. He was most likely just as clueless as the rest of them as they Bridged from Earth to Cybertron, then to the Memorial Station.
Everything was still smoldering.
A years' worth of work consisting of new architecture, plant life and polished graves were either smashed, stomped on or blasted into rubble. Teams of medics were already tending the wounded. The large (as it was assumed enough at the time) guard force stationed on the satellite were left either dead or moaning, overwhelmed by a huge force that didn't dock at the station like normal outsiders had to. They Bridged in. Something that was assumed impossible if you weren't in one of the designated locations on Cybertron, also heavily fortified for this very reason. But it hadn't mattered.
Jazz was rushing ahead of him and the rest of their group. He chanted to himself, "No, not OP… don't let it be OP's body."
Bumblebee hadn't even thought of that, but now that he did, the idea made him sick. There was no way. Vandals wouldn't put this much work into defacing the fallen leader of the Autobots, right?
The Dinobots were lingering in the rubble, scanning madly for any sign of the enemy that had been there mere kliks ago. They were less upset, more disappointed they missed yet another fight. Bumblebee let them be, running by them and headed farther into the rubble.
Other combat teams were arriving alongside their own. And the Decepticons were doing the same. They were all converging on one place, and it was at the heart of the station, the focal point of the Autobot and Decepticon graveyard.
Both carved monuments dedicated to Optimus and Megatron, the statues once staring at each other with a somber peace, were toppled into the ground. And just as Jazz had feared, the seemingly indestructible door leading down into the sacred tomb had been blown open.
"Frag!" Jazz snarled, speeding up and launching himself down into the dark staircase. Bumblebee was at the top of the stairs, ready to descend after him. Jazz's enraged shout cut through his spark and stalled his peds in place.
"FRAG!"
Someone was pushing Bumblebee out of the way. It was Soundwave and Starscream. Sharpshot was probably in Kaon, overlooking their newly acquired informants/prisoners. But right now, that original mission seemed so far away. Someone was tugging him along, edging him onto the first set of steps. Arcee. Her face a mix of similar fearful apprehension. He let her lead him down.
The secondary door was unsurprisingly blown out of the way. The complex mechanisms once requiring a member of both factions to open it had not been given any thought from whoever let themselves in. Bumblebee stumbled inside, a pack of others arriving as well.
There was movement on the Con side. Soundwave and Starscream, along with some other Cons he didn't recognize, were all stone faced, the two leaders leaned down next to the slab their old lord once laid upon. Megatron's body had been haphazardly shoved off his resting slab, but otherwise, his chassis seemed unharmed. It was laid back to rest as it should have, Soundwave fussing over the placement of Megatron's servos at his sides.
Bumblebee's focus had only landed on the Cons first, because there had been more obvious activity. Hushed whispers among their faction, Soundwave and Starscream discussing something Bumblebee couldn't quite hear.
But the Autobot side, that was still. Optimus' body was still on his slab, gleaming in the light. Save for Jazz, who was collapsed onto his knees before the Prime's body, helm hung in defeat. Bumblebee approached, anxiety welling in his tanks and fueling him forward until the reason for Jazz's sorrow became glaringly obvious. The collective Autobot aura a mist of horror, anger and unbearable sorrow.
Optimus Prime. The heroic fallen Autobot leader. The one who sacrificed himself time and time again and did so for a final time to restore their world and assure the survival of their people. Bumblebee's most cherished mentor and friend. His body had been defiled.
The first most obvious sight was the missing relic once laid upon his broad chest. The Star Saber was gone. But its theft was secondary compared to the sight of the mighty swords' last owner. Optimus' right servo had been cleaved off at the shoulder joint, vanished from the tomb much as the sword that was once wielded by that same hand.
Bumblebee tried to make sense of the horrible sight. He had to stop himself from rushing forward, his brain momentarily forgetting Optimus was already dead, and he was about to tourniquet the wound to assure his leader did not bleed to death. Of course, no Energon flowed from this wound, all inside his veins were long since crystallized. No sparks flew from the ripped wires or hair fine connections.
Why?
He hadn't even noticed he was on the ground, knees hitting the floor as Jazz had done. He reached out, taking the remaining hand of the Prime. He just held there, trying to feel something other than the gaping, sucking black hole he was sure had taken root in his Spark and threatened to devour him into nothingness.
His friends were there, he was sure, all standing around him, behind him. Everywhere he could not focus because he needed to remain locked on Optimus' face so he didn't look at that gaping hole in his shoulder. But there was more, just above them on the wall, that had not been there before, and Bumblebee was just now noticing it. But the snarl of Jazz brought his mind screeching away from the wall and back to the present.
"It was you, wasn't it?!"
Bumblebee stumbled to his peds, he, Bulkhead, and Arcee just managing to snatch Jazz before he could lunge over the cluster of Cons and hurl himself at Soundwave. He still pointed hard, cursing and snatching at the air to grab at his once long time enemy, "You Cons did this! Played it off by just giving your leader a gentle push off the ledge! Optimus' arm, where is it! Give it back!"
Starscream was offended, scoffing at the accusation. Soundwave, the target of Jazz's rage, was unmoving and cold. Letting Jazz vent but having little to no reaction to it. He only looked at Jazz, waiting.
Restrained, but not even close to done, Jazz's servo shifted into a blaster, aimed at Soundwave's helm. Bumblebee basically dove onto the buzzing weapon, pointing it down and away from the stoic Con Lord.
"Bee, let me go!" Jazz shouted, basically pleading as he continued to struggle. His face melting into a mask of grief as his thrashes became less violent.
"It wasn't them," Bumblebee insisted. His voice didn't sound his own, everything felt unreal. The once comforting light shining down from the ceiling, the heat from Jazz's blaster currently buzzing against his midsection, it was all flux like, far away. "Jazz, it wasn't the Cons. I swear."
Jazz yanked his focus from Soundwave and hurled his glare Bumblebee's direction. Denta gritted hard, "How in the Pits do you know?"
Numbly, Bumblebee pointed back at the wall behind Optimus. Jazz looked, his team looked, the Cons did too. Painted onto the wall with the Energon from the dead guards above them, was a sigil many had not seen in ages. Most Autobots among them didn't seem to recognize it. Bumblebee had a hard time at first too. It had been so long ago, just a distant transmission passing by as they escaped from the pursuing Nemesis in the Ark. But the Decepticon Lords were all too knowing.
"Star Seekers." Soundwave spoke at last, the words appearing to leave him with only the foulest of expressions.
Jazz was no longer radiating a murderous intent at Soundwave, so Bumblebee felt safe releasing him. His gun shifted away, but he was still glaring at Soundwave. Even his optic band came up so he could darken his expression more, "Who?"
"Space pirates," Starscream further explained with a disgusted snort. "A group of traversing scavengers who we once had the misfortune of dealing with. I wouldn't have a clue why they would be here, or how they could have come. That is still a mystery," he scowled at the sigil. At the same time, he continued to fret over a dent left on Megatron's helm, sustained from the topple from his slab. "Filthy buccaneers… this brutish attack strategy would be their style. I had hoped so much they had jettisoned off into a collapsing star at this point. This proof to the contrary is very disappointing."
Jazz continued to close in on the Cons, wielding the same demanding body language Soundwave had while interrogating Nitro Zeus. "Where are they? Where will they be going!"
"We have not seen a glimpse of them in almost two million years," Soundwave vented. He left from Megatron's side; hand once rested on his fallen leader's shoulder lingering as long as it could be for slipping off. He walked by Jazz, almost not acknowledging his existence. He stopped before the Star Seeker emblem, two crossing and chipped blades under a glaring green battle mask. "They engaged us, we fought them off. We have not heard from them since."
"Then why Optimus?" Jazz demanded. He once again whirled on Soundwave. "If the Pirates had a beef with you Cons, why did they do US dirty like this?"
"It was strategic," Soundwave assumed. His optic band appeared hard at work as he scanned the area around the glaring emblem. The faintest hint of a scowl pursed his lip plates. "Thundertron swore vengeance on Megatron, but Megatron is no more. They came here to acquire what your leader wielded."
"Who?" Jazz demanded.
Soundwave turned to him at last, "The leader of the band that attacked the Nemesis all those years ago. His energy signature is here. He leads them still, apparently."
"But, you said they wanted what he wielded?" Bulkhead said, stammering to make sense of the Con Lord's words. "Only a Prime can use the Star Saber! Why go to so much trouble to steal a weapon they can't…" and the reality hit him just after it clicked in Bumblebee's mind as well. The collective focus fell back onto Optimus' missing appendage.
And that was when the horror truly struck. Soundwave carried on explaining for the few that had not been present for what the members of Team Prime already knew, like Jazz, "You are incorrect in that interpretation, as you now clearly recall. Only the hand of a Prime can wield a relic of the Primes. When my departed Lord borrowed the servo of the dead Prime, Liege Maximo, he had no trouble wielding the Forge of Solus Prime. The theft of your departed Primes' limb, would make logical sense if the intent was to utilize the devastating effects of the Star Saber."
The history lesson would have to wait, because quick steps came down the path behind them, "Why in the All Spark is everybot just loitering! Would someone tell me WHAT is going on?"
Panic jolted through Bumblebee all over again. Ratchet's voice. No… No no no he couldn't see Optimus like this! Ultra Magnus, trailing behind the older bot seemed to share that sentiment, trying to talk him into waiting outside. But this was Ratchet, and no one told him where to go no matter the title or rank.
He was not the only one who suddenly panicked. Arcee's field flared crushing guilt before it vanished, pulling into itself as she stepped behind Bumblebee to better hide her presence as their older friend entered.
Ratchet stormed in, even shoving a miffed Decepticon to the side. He took in his team, most definitely sensing the poisonous aura enveloping the tomb. His optics locked on the massive mark on the wall. And naturally, his focus scanned down. And in that moment of silent processing, Bumblebee saw so many millennia flash across Ratchet's face. He watched as if the old medic had just aged ten million years in an instant. Optics flaring wide and horror stricken. His mouth hinge fell open in a gasp.
"Oh no…" It was barely a whimper. Magnus placed a hand on Ratchets shoulder, but it was slapped away. He finally let Ratchet go, stumbling to Optimus' side and being the third bot to fall to his knees before his fallen leader. "What happened? Who? Why would-" he had missed everything, but really, Bumblebee doubted Ratchet would have comprehended any of what Soundwave had already explained.
He hesitated to touch the wound, studying it, possibly contemplating all it would take to fix it. He looked around, stupefied, before finding Optimus as his focal point again. It was the second time in only two days Bumblebee heard Ratchet's cry. He crumbled before Optimus. His hands fell to the side of the slab as his helm clanked on the floor.
Bumblebee was frozen again. He didn't know what to do, how to help. He was hurting too bad to think straight. He wanted to help but didn't have the strength.
The color blue shuffled past him.
Bumblebee watched Arcee, originally hidden behind him, now creep to Ratchet's wailing form. She was still terrified, as if Ratchet would turn around and slap her too. The Decepticons were oddly silent, even Starscream. It felt like a million and one gazes were on Arcee's back as she came to rest behind Ratchet. Slow, silent and stealthy as she always was, Arcee knelt beside Ratchet. She remained there, unmoving, focus off and aimed at the ground. Ratchet appeared not to notice her through his shuttering sobs, even when her smaller arms came to wrap around him.
Ratchet didn't stop crying, but he did move from his totally defeated stance laid against the slab. He took her arms and held her closer, clinging to her for dear life. She closed her optics and rested her helm on his shuttering shoulder, holding fast, as if using her own smaller body to shield him from the world. It was enough to bring Bumblebee back to life, and he stalked forward towards them.
It was a familiar feeling, huddled over Optimus, holding his friends tight. The whole team came to Ratchet's side, the gaze of distant Decepticons watching somewhere behind them as they mourned.
Rhea
Really, she couldn't recall what a pain-free world was like anymore. She was cross-eyed, only hearing the buzz of too loud mechanical ripping and the glare of bright assaulting sunlight. Someone was buckling her into a car, driving and cursing and everything about the trip hurt her pounding brain. From the jostle of the car to the familiar male voice shouting at beeping traffic. It was like nails pounded into her head. Flashing auras surrounded every light until darkness enveloped from all sides.
She was in and out of reality after that. Fighting between the present and the past.
In reality, she could still hear everything, the world crumbling into a pit of agonized buzzing.
More hands were moving her. Overhead lights of a hospital ceiling as she was wheeled along. Shawn's voice was still behind her, calling her name, asking doctors if she would live.
She faded back out of reality.
The pain in her head was gone, and instead took up residence in her heart and stomach. Her dad's trembling hand was on her shoulder. She stood over her mom. She had too much make up on. Her bald head was covered in a wig that was a cheap mockery of her once beautiful black curls. She was still in her coffin, ignoring Rhea's presence. Death was more important than her daughter.
Back in.
The pain was back. People in scrubs were swarming her, poking her. It felt like they were tearing her apart. Shawn's voice was still present. He was demanding answers. His voice was cutting into her brain.
Back out.
She reached to take her mother's boney hand. Makeup could not cover the lack of muscle, the decay of a yearlong fight against internal disease. A fight fought so hard, only to end in failure. Rhea wanted to reject that reality and leave with her mom and dad. She wanted to take her out of the coffin and walk out of this place that smelled of incense and ash. Was the ash from the sickly-sweet incense, or from cremated bones of other poor souls that passed through the big wooden doors behind them?
The hand was cold, and it was stiff. She didn't believe that reality, despite her own eyes insisting this was her mother. Her mom was supposed to be warm and fluid, full of life. Not still as stone, frozen limbs placed on her stomach, folded with flowers and puffy white fabric. She started to pull anyway, determined to drag her mom back from the land of the dead.
Her dad stopped her. Tears in his eyes. He told her to be gentle, just hold her hand. Just say goodbye. He had never cried so much. She probably caused all this. She sat in her mom's hospital bed too much, maybe knocked out an IV or bumped an electrical cord. Her being autistic probably caused her mom's cancer. Stress from her many diagnoses formed into a twisted ball of fatigued cells that spread to each organ and limb every time Rhea screamed or cried or flailed her hands because she couldn't handle how a passing car sounded when it scraped its metal rim against the curb. She couldn't hold her moms' stiff hand anymore, because she was flailing again. She had to stop. It kept getting worse the more she tried to stop. She had to stop. If she didn't stop, she would kill her dad too.
Back in.
Things were quiet now, sort of. The pain was edging away from the corners of her vision. Someone said morphine, and that was glorious news. She knew all about that wonder drug from her many trips into the germ ridden hospital. Shawn's voice no longer hurt. He was talking about something wrong on Cybertron. She focused hard, gleaning bits and pieces. There was an attack… the Memorial was postponed until further notice. He had to call many world leaders who intended to make an appearance. Was he talking to her semi unconscious body, or was he on the phone like he normally was? It didn't really matter which. She just hoped Soundwave was ok.
Back out.
She sat on the roof of their garage, watching the stars. She was determined to see something. The Transistor radio screamed nonsense from every frequency. She carried on ignoring it. Somewhere in that sky, beyond stars and satellites and uninterested aliens, was her mom. Did she believe in heaven like her crazy grandmother she never talked to? Was it like her dad said, and her mom was somewhere out there? Maybe both. She wanted to see something that proved one or the other.
She wanted a space ship to fly down and take her away. Climb aboard their star ship, and head for the skies, just like Styx promised they would in their songs. Her dad was demanding she come in. It was two in the morning. It was forty degrees outside. She cranked the Transistor louder, and it made her scream and cover her ears.
Back in.
Calming silence and pain free at last. But she was still very out of it… she still couldn't talk. What was wrong with her? During this final Cyberformation, her brain finally must have broken. She felt utterly worthless. She had promised Soundwave forever. She couldn't even manage a year for him. Some communication's officer and wife she was.
Back out.
She stood at the coffin, but this time, no one had a hand rested on her shoulder. Because that comforting hand was stiff and cold now, folded over flowers at his chest. Her dad didn't have makeup. His heart was on the inside, and they didn't have to cover up that disease, hidden perfectly under bone and skin and a fancy tux he would have never worn among the living. People were whispering. Whispering about her. Someone had introduced themselves to her at the hospital, talking over the flatline of her dad's heart that carried on buzzing in her head long after the doctors tore her from his side. They would help her. They had to go now. Take one last moment to hold his hand. Say goodbye.
The star ship never came to take her to the skies. She remained firmly planted on Earth, her parents leaving her behind.
Back in, and this time, it was for good.
What she felt was odd, the tingle of static caressing her cheek. She opened her eyes, and it was like she was on a ship at sea, bobbing and having a hard time staying still, despite laying on her back in a hospital bed. Something was touching her. What was odd, was it didn't feel like skin, despite this something being hand shaped. She finally just lulled her head over to see what it was.
The sight of Soundwave's human form threw her for a very dizzying loop, because she could not recall logging into the simulation. No, this was the real world. This was a holo form, hence why his touch felt so odd.
She found her own arm, somewhere under a sea of hospital bedding. She rested her palm over his false hand, keeping them connected. "Hey," she greeted, and big shock, she sounded terrible.
He leaned forward from the chair he was seated on by her bed and kissed her forehead. The static from his lips tickled. He sat back down beside her, "How are you feeling?"
She considered that. She really didn't feel much, and her brain was sluggish. She assumed the morphine had everything to do with that. "I feel like a blob. Did I get shot down?"
Soundwave shook his head, and she lingered her gaze a little too long on his shaking hair. It was mesmerizing. Wow she was high.
"You were brilliant in the battle," he assured her. "The pod was tampered with, and it broke your connection to the avatar. This time, it had a very negative effect on you."
"Tampered?" she echoed. Had Arcee's prediction come true? Had Nitro Zeus managed a lucky shot that passed through multiple buildings, traffic and city blocks and somehow penetrate through the Concurrence's fortified walls?
His already dark eyes took on a very alarming glint of fury, and she hoped he wasn't mad at her. Thankfully, he lost the death look when she whimpered. Eyes soft again, he stroked her hair, "No. It would have been Megatronus. Utilizing his abilities to tamper with the real world again. From what I have gathered from your medical records here, the sudden disconnection caused severe inflammation in your brain, and you were at risk of having a stroke. Shawn got you to the hospital in time to prevent this outcome."
Well, that wasn't good at all. Had it ever been that bad before? Even the first time Megatronus yanked her out of the avatar she had not had such a terrible reaction. But before, the wires were just pulled off. This time, Soundwave said the pod itself was physically tampered with. So, there was a chance the pod itself caused the problem, when it was damaged.
"What a jerk," she grumbled regarding the trapped ancient Prime.
"Rhea, I am so sorry."
She rose a brow, but stopped, because doing that sort of brought back the throb in her head. "Why are you apologizing? You didn't almost give me a stroke."
"But I could have made sure the pod was secure against sabotage after Megatronus' first assault against you. In addition, I was unable to care for you and bring you here myself. I have failed you spectacularly." He said, shame dripping from every other word.
"You're here now," she pointed out. "Plus, when I was sort of conscious, I heard something bad happened on Cybertron, or was that just a dream?"
Going by his face, she already knew she heard right in her daze. "You are correct. There was a massive attack on the Memorial Station."
"What?" All she could react to the news was confusion. "Why would anyone, how would they even do that? There were so many safeguards?"
Soundwave sighed, "There was a great deal of structural damage, but the main reason behind the attack was to steal the Star Saber, and the servo of Optimus Prime."
She struggled to understand at first. But only a Prime could use the Star Saber, or any of the- She blinked, and the reasoning behind Soundwave's somber tone made sense. "Oh crap."
He nodded in agreement. "After the theft, they fled. To where? We cannot say. How they even Bridged inside the Station is still a mystery. At least we know they are no longer near Cybertron. All exterior and inner planetary scans indicate that."
She supposed that was good. Whoever stole the Star Saber and the means to use it (poor Optimus) could not now use it to start hacking up whole cities if they weren't on Cybertron.
She couldn't ask anything else, because the door to her hospital suite creaked open. Somewhere under the powerful medication's effects, she felt the pulse of her headache from the door hinges' creak. But it was tolerable now. Instead of a doctor, Shawn's dazed expression was gaping at her. "Thank God your awake! I was…" he noted Soundwave in the corner of the room, and Rhea pieced together by Shawn's stupefied expression, he hadn't been there when he last left, whenever that was. "Um, sorry. When did, who are-"
"He's a friend," Rhea blurted the first thing that came to mind. Shawn still didn't know about the holoform tech, or how much of a violation it would be against the current Concurrence rules. Not that Shawn was that strict regarding those rules, but it was best not to test it. "He was in the area, I called, and they let him in."
Shawn seemed less confused, only glancing at his own phone screen. "Wow… That last call with the Russian ambassador must have taken me longer than I thought. Doesn't matter! I'm just glad you're ok. You've been out for hours. And, um, nice to meet you." He said the last statement to Soundwave, who only nodded at him in greeting, not extending a hand to shake or speaking. His voice would be a dead giveaway, as would the unnatural texture of the holoform's hands.
Shawn hurried over to the side of the bed Soundwave did not occupy and sat in a free chair. "I have updates, if you're well enough to hear them. And if- um…" he glanced up again at Soundwave's stoic face. "Um, does your friend…"
"Yeah, he knows just about everything. Explain away," Rhea assured him.
Shawn probably should have been suspicious, but the bags under his eyes suggested he was too tired to think logically. How long had he been here with her? She felt bad. "Ok, good! So, to keep it simple, the three Decepticon rogues were successfully captured and taken back to Cybertron. At the same time, there was a big attack on the Memorial Station. I offered for the three prisoners to be secured on Earth, just so they didn't have to worry about it while they sorted out what was happening. The Decepticons insisted, so I didn't push things. Um, I'm sure you figured out by now, but the Pod you were in malfunctioned. Or at least, it was broken. I asked Soundwave when he was available, and he said it was tampering from the trapped Megatronus guy. And I don't want to sound like a broken record, but, um, it is safe, right? This thing you're doing. It's hurt you a bunch, and I know it's not my business, but I'm real worried now. More than I have been before."
"We perfected the tech itself," Rhea tried to assure him, "But yeah, Soundwave was right. Apparently, Megatronus likes to use his creepy skills to try and break my brain. No clue how I offended the guy so much."
Shawn nodded, though didn't look totally pacified this time. "In that case, I'm wondering if we should really push to get Megatronus out of whatever other realm he currently inhabits, if only to better secure him in this one where we can have eyes and ears on him."
Rhea kept herself from glancing at Soundwave, knowing how he would feel about that. But, if she wouldn't be able to use her avatar while the jerk Prime was invisible, then it may not be a bad idea. "It's something to consider. I'll bring it up to Soundwave when I see him."
Finally, Shawn let out a sigh of relief, and he fully had to pause to rub at his eyes. "Good. At least we can do something to keep this from happening again…"
"I heard what you did," she said. Shawn jolted upright, shock radiating off him as he staired like a big mouthed bass at her. He probably thought he had crossed some kind of line, either with her or the Decepticon Lord she was married to, so she quickly elaborated, "How you rushed me here. Thank you, Shawn. Really, I owe you."
His shoulders instantly relaxed, and he gave her a weak smile, "Hey, what are friends for? Plus, I'm sick of everyone else getting all the excitement. Thought I could be the action hero for a change."
"How was it?" she offered innocently.
He scoffed, "Exhausting, and I won't be doing it again." He yawned.
"You look terrible, by the way." She noted truthfully.
He gave a knowing chuckle. "Yeah, I got you here about five in the afternoon, yesterday. And I was too worried to sleep. Plus, hospital couches are not known for being five-star accommodations…"
Rhea looked at the clock mounted on the wall. It was eleven in the morning. That meant Shawn had been awake well over 24 hours. "Go home and sleep. You earned it." He looked unsure, and she sat up in bed to better prove her incoming point. She had to dispel the wave of dizziness the motion brought on, "I'm ok Shawn, again, thanks to you. Please go home and rest. Catch a cab if you're too tired to drive, or order one of your many soldiers to come get you. You're going to get sick."
He scratched the back of his neck, an easy task as he had already ditched his tie and outer suit coat a while ago. "Yeah, I guess I should. It would be the responsible thing to do. I do technically lead an organization which is now in a crisis thanks to that attack near Cybertron. And since you're ok…"
She again nodded at him, and he mirrored the gesture. He stood, but instead of leaving, he picked up her bag from the guest couch and set it down in her lap. "I managed to swipe that too. I figured it had stuff you needed. Oh! And this-" he procured a muffin from the plastic bag he walked in with, "I swiped from the cafeteria. Doctors said you would be able to eat, and it's been a while, so I figured you needed it… there is something else I'm forgetting."
"Going home to sleep?" she reminded him.
He jolted again, as if just recalling, "Right! Right, I'll do that now. You got the afternoon and night watch, right?" he asked Soundwave, who again only agreed with a simple nod. "Great, great. Rhea, again I'm glad you're ok. Get plenty of sleep in the meantime. You both have a good night… or I guess it's morning, technically. I really should grab another coffee…"
"Or you could go home and sleep," Rhea reiterated.
Shawn let out an anxious laugh, "Yeah, I guess that's the healthier option… Oh jeez, someone else is calling me. It's been all night and day," he fumbled in the doorway with his phone, typing something quick before again grinning at her, "Loads of world leaders have been after me this whole time. I guess I can't blame them. Many were going to make an appearance at the Cybertronian Memorial and then it got attacked. They're worried bot business will become Earth business. I'll figure something out to settle things.
He was rambling now, still lingering in the doorway as more texts bombarded his phone, "I'm sympathetic to the worry, of course. Big fight in New York. Even though we contained it, some leaks still got out. It freaked people out. Don't you worry about it, but just letting you know so the news and stuff doesn't catch you off guard," he started to stumble out, still texting someone. But he stopped short of the door. Turning around with a reddening complexion, "Um, before I go, and I really hope this isn't crossing the line, but is there any way I can learn more about how the pod tech works?"
Rhea wasn't insulted, but she was confused. It was quite the random request, though he did quickly explain himself, "Just in case, it happens again. Yesterday, when the pod was going haywire, I was afraid one wrong wire pull on my part would kill you instantly. It's mostly just for my own peace of mind."
That made enough sense, and again, she felt horrible for the situation involving him at all. She was sure his blood pressure could not handle any more stress, just going by his reddening ears. "I'll pass it by Soundwave."
Shawn sighed again, "Thanks… I'll let the doctors know your awake, so they can talk to you… Please, feel better too." He finally wandered out, the door closing with a click.
"I can appreciate his worry," Soundwave said once they were alone, "Though I am hesitant to release information regarding the pod to anyone."
"Well, would him disconnecting the wrong thing kill me?" she asked, at the same time ruffling through her bag Shawn made sure to snag for her. She found her translator and fixed it into her ear.
Soundwave's expression pursed. "It would be a risk."
"Then it may be worth the risk to give him the manual. Jack and Raf too while we're at it, because I really don't intend to let Megatronus stop me from fighting alongside you."
He was far from comfortable with the idea, clearly. "Until this business with Megatronus is settled-"
"No," she stated flatly, already guessing where he was going with the thought. "I won't just stop using the Avatar. It's sort of an extension of me now, as it's also an extension of our bond."
'It is a remarkable point,' Chimed in Laserbeak, now able to communicate with her again through the translator. 'Also, pleased to have you conscious again, Rhea. I am currently in a holding pattern over the medical facility, for security purposes, so you may rest easy once Master must return to handle the continued business on Cybertron.'
"Thanks," she said to him sincerely, then turned back to Soundwave, an eyebrow raised as she waited for his reply.
"We have the simulation still," Soundwave pointed out.
'Which I cannot utilize!' Laserbeak complained.
"Raf did talk to you about getting you a Cybertronian Avatar in the sim, right?" Rhea asked.
Laserbeak grumbled, 'Yes, and that is a viable solution for some issues, however, seeing my Master in any other form is uncomfortable for me.'
"There is the brain implant," Rhea offered.
Soundwave glared, not at her, but the suggestion.
'A very viable option!' Laserbeak agreed.
"No." Soundwave stated.
She and Laserbeak groaned at the same time. "It would be fine! That way the pod would only be a storage point for my body and I could jump back and forth into the Avatar whenever I wanted!"
He gave her a very pointed look, "All true, but are we convinced Megatronus is unable to rip those fine connection from your actual brain? How much damage would that do?"
Rhea paused. Crap, he had her there. "I mean, probably a lot of damage, but do we know he can do that?"
"We don't know what he is capable of," he reminded them both, "Until a time we know for sure, I want to risk as little as possible."
"Then maybe what Shawn said is a good idea," Rhea offered as some form of compromise. "If he was here in this dimension with us, we could at least see him coming."
This idea at least didn't make Soundwave bristle as noticeably as the other suggestions. "It would be risky, but not unreasonable, given the circumstances. I could research a more permanent prison for him, once these turbulent times are behind us. But until then-"
She scowled at him, "I can't use the Avatar?"
"It is temporary," he promised her, "And I will make coming up with a solution a priority."
She didn't have any more time to argue, because a doctor came in with a friendly smile and a tablet under her arm. Soundwave again fell back into silence, but his eyes promised her they could talk later. Grudgingly, she dropped it. There were now more pressing issues to deal with after all. She needed to help with what was happening on Cybertron in some form, even if it was in her skin. And for that to happen, she needed to make sure she wouldn't be hospital bound for the next week.
Date: Present day, September 30th 2021 8:00 in the morning
Steven
Pulling up to his familiar sector of the base, he violently suppressed how bad this idea was. But it was too late to turn back. He already checked in via the gatehouse, and Ben was riding shotgun and jittery with excitement. They were both fueled by determination and caffeine. Not a great combo. But Rhea could be at the end of this crazy journey, so he could not turn back even if it was the logical thing to do.
He pulled into his reserved spot, cut the engine, then turned to Ben with the sternest face he could muster. "Going over the plan one last time. Why are we here?"
Ben was already unbuckled and still grinning. "Not to work! You are giving me a tour in hopes it will jog my memory. When your superiors are no longer suspicious, we go to your workstation. Then you can hack into the town's cell tower logs and find out where Rhea's phone was when you got that creepy text message last night!"
"I would hardly call it 'hacking,'" Steven grumbled, "But you're correct. Try to keep the talking to a minimum," he started to step out of the car, but he hesitated and leaned back in to again focus on Ben, "And by all means, if it does help trigger any memories, let me know and we can have an actual tour afterwards to try and regain more."
Ben gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up before jumping out of the car. Like an unruly puppy, he rushed ahead of Steven up the steps leading to the main Airforce center. Steven got a few odd looks from the guards at the metal detectors. He was sure General Brag let everyone know Steven wasn't supposed to be working. But Steven was too high ranking for most door guards to bring that up, and they were let in without a verbal complaint.
Ben was playing his part of impressed brain damaged army boy well. He looked up wide mouthed, admiring the historic planes hung up under the glass ceiling that gave them the cheap illusion of flight. Or he wasn't playing the part and was legitimately impressed with the sight. It didn't say much about the architecture they walked through if that was the case. Ben had been amazed by a large moth on Steven's from porch that morning before they left, and insisted they needed a picture of it, using Steven's cellphone.
"So, this is the main building… the hanger is out back," Steven said purposely to Ben, just around the time he saw the General sculking up to them.
"The hell are ya doing here?" Brag grumbled to Steven. As he assumed, the gate guards probably told the General of Steven's arrival. "Last I checked, I told you to take a break from work."
Steven didn't flinch. He only shrugged, pointing to Ben's whimsical air, "No work happening at all, sir. I thought giving Ben a tour of daily military life would jog his memory."
The General looked Ben's way, brow rose as the young soldier waved excitedly at him. He sighed, long and hard. "Not a bad idea, I suppose. Long as he doesn't stumble into any running rig engines. I don't feel like filing that paperwork."
Steven gave Brag a look, one which only he had the guts to fix his superior with, "Trust me to be competent enough to not let that happen."
Brag had to answer his phone's sudden chime, and he gave them both a nod of approval before wandering off, snapping at whoever was on the other end of the phone. Steven inwardly sighed in relief. Then he gave Ben's jacket a tug to lead him into one of the other side hallways.
He walked along his usual rout to his own unit's hanger as casually as he could. Occasionally, he asked Ben if anything he saw seemed familiar. "Nope," Ben said, not at all bothered by that. He looked entertained either way. Steven didn't suspect he would have anything familiar to look at on this trip. Before whatever event that stole away his memories, Ben would still be in the infancy of his military career and was also an Army man. Steven had been in the Air Force for over thirty years. It was two very different environments and experiences. They carried on either way.
Steven pressed his keycard against his workstation door. Unlike his stubborn safe back home, the door blinked green and unlocked for him. Steven opened the door, holding his breath in hopes none of his team would be there. They weren't on the schedule, so there was no logical reason to be, but there was always the odd chance to the contrary. Odds were on his side when he saw the room was dark and quiet.
He clicked on the lights then stepped out of the way, motioning for Ben to walk inside. His partner in crime did so merrily, gawking at the many monitors lining the walls. Steven closed the door behind them and made sure it clicked, indicating it was locked. They were home clear.
"Where does this door lead?" Ben pointed to the adjacent door off to the flight station's left.
"The Drone hanger," Steven said. "One of the places we build and test new tech."
Ben gave him a pleading look, hand fixed on the doorknob. Steven rolled his eyes but indulged him. Ben was sticking his neck out for this venture after all. Plus, it wasn't a bad idea to check the hanger for anyone that may have come in from one of its outside entrances. That would be unusual if they hadn't logged into the system here first, but Steven had no clue what kind of chaos his team would be up to while he was away.
He used his key card and unlocked the second door. It led to a dim aircraft hanger, every external door closed and locked as they should. Thankfully, it looked like their most recent drone testing was coming along decently without him. Maybe a little behind, but not beyond saving. It was far from Steven's focus right now.
Ben walked in with his mouth hanging open. "Can all of these fly? Have you flown them all?"
"Yes to both, at least those not in pieces," Steven answered, still holding open the door to keep Ben from being locked outside.
Ben tentatively touched the wheel of one of the larger Reaper model drones. One in unuse and usually reserved for combat zones. It was mostly here to be stored until it could be transported to another hanger. He looked up at it and smiled, "How much does this one cost?"
"That one? About 30 million."
Ben whistled, clearly impressed. "Ya know, I'm not getting much, but something about this does sort of ring a bell."
"Some may have been at whatever bases you were assigned," Steven assumed. It would be a fairly normal sight if Ben was stationed in dangerous regions. "Want to stay in here and look around? As long as you don't touch anything, I can come get you when I'm done."
Ben turned on his heels from the MQ-9 Reaper and ran back to the door. "Nope, I'm done! Plus, someone has to act as lookout while you work!"
"There's hallways surveillance," Steven said, and tapped in his password on the monitor to activate the whole system. On one of the screens, there was a live feed of both hallways leading to the room and the Drone Hanger. "No need for a look out."
Ben was a little disappointed, but he recovered fast enough and sat in the chair next to where Steven was already settled. "No worries. We're a team. I can at least watch what you're doing."
Steven shrugged, "From your perspective, it may be boring."
"No problem! I'll just ask you for an update every few minutes."
Steven pursed his lips at that news but carried on anyway. He typed fast, getting into his normal systems. This would all be on record, so he remained in programs that would not raise suspicion. Non classified Army documents, pictures from different oversea bases, things that would contribute to the ruse he was trying to help Ben jog his memories. As the pictures scrolled, he pulled the flash drive from out of his shirt pocket and plugged it into the monitors under the desk. The screens flickered, and soon changed. It was accessing the inner bones of the system that would not be monitored.
"This the thing you were working on all last night?" Ben guessed, keeping his promise to ask for live updates every step of the way.
Steven nodded, though didn't shift his focus from the dark screen. "It's an encryption and IP blocker. As long as it's active, the logs on this device will freeze, so everything I do here won't be recorded."
In the monitor's reflection, Steven saw Ben grinning, "So, you just know how to do all this? Does this come with Air Force training?"
"I have other skills outside my day-to-day duties," was all the explanation Steven gave. He typed into the heavily fortified system, utilizing his higher access without worry about having his presence known. Their systems were known to freeze sometimes, and this would be assumed to be one of those times, especially if no data is transferred out. But anything longer than a few minutes would rouse suspicion. He would have to make this quick.
Through his military access, he opened the phone records under Rhea's cell number. His heart was pounding, sweat slicking the computer mouse. He was already setting a rout in his head to go wherever it told him the phone call was coming from. The cell tower locations for each text and call she had made popped up for that month. Their beach side town had three towers, one closest to their base being the most used for her phone. Naturally, it was where she spent most of her time until late. And using more of this illegal data, he was able to triangulate where Rhea, or at least her phone was each time the device was used. The Café, the base, their house, the house again, the board walk. Every moment he recalled.
He scrolled past it all, getting to the final text that came in the night before. He forgot how to swallow. He staired at the screen in disbelief as he read and then re-read the information plain in front of his face.
"Well, where is the phone?" Ben asked, impatient as he too looked over Steven's shoulder at the text, though he would not understand any of what it meant. "Is it far away?"
Steven slowly leaned back until his back was flush against his chair. "No." he answered truthfully. "When the text last night came through… the location of Rhea's phone was my house."
Ben turned from the screen to stare at him, "How is that possible?"
He didn't know, so instead he just refreshed the information and reloaded it. He was pushing their time limit, but he had to try again, because it had to be an error. He knew beyond any shadow of a doubt Rhea was not in the house. He had searched so thoroughly he had done everything but tear up the flooring and strip away the dry wall.
The same location came back to mock him with its impossibility. Rhea wasn't in the house, but according to the most sophisticated technology, she was when whoever had her phone sent that message. It had been a while since he thought he was going crazy. Ben's presence had distracted from his slipping mental faculties and ever since Ben shared similar hallucinations, he was pacified somewhat. Maybe it was in the water on Base, and only the two of them were affected? But he could feel the insanity slip back into his subconscious as he gazed at that screen. Logic had flown south for the incoming fall and winter. He was left with an even greater mystery; one he was wholly unable to contend with.
Slowly, he logged out of the cell tower system and unplugged his flash drive. The system blinked back to normal, as if nothing ever happened. He wished the same could be said about his peace of mind.
"Um, is that normal?" Ben asked.
Steven looked up, seeing Ben gazing no longer at the monitor, but instead the small screens that made up the security feeds. One of the hallway cameras was flickering. He shifted his focus and took manual control of the camera outside the room. The feed sputtered more, static interrupting the picture in massive bursts and he made the camera scan.
And just for a moment he saw it. The slithering form of a red eyed creature, crawling towards their room down the hallway.
Ben jumped back in silent horror. He had seen it too. One of the creatures visiting them both in their nightmares to torment them. Steven frantically panned the camera in search of the creature from both their nightmares. But it was gone. Gone in the same nano second it had appeared. The camera was now totally worthless, the picture so static filled nothing could be made out at all.
Then came the firm knock on the door behind them.
Ben startled again, and Steven hated to admit he did too. But he had something Ben didn't, and that was his gun. He stood from his chair and unholstered his weapon. He held up a hand to keep Ben back. Ben shook his head frantically, shuffling forward after him. Steven fully put a hand on his chest, glaring at him and silently demanding he stay put. He had learned in their short time spent together Ben was many things, and one of those things was frustratingly stubborn. He followed Steven's silent footsteps to the door. Steven gave up trying to stop him. If he was insistent to take on, whatever the hell this thing was without a weapon, so be it. Not that it would matter, Steven didn't miss.
He held up his gun, poised at the door. He waited, heart pounding in his ears. The knock came again, and it took everything in him not to unload the whole mag into the door. It wouldn't do much good, the door was bullet proof. But it wasn't totally soundproof.
"Who's there?" Steven snarled from behind his gun. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to get in the way of a response. Monstrous hissing perhaps? He was just ready for when the door would slam open.
Another knock, but this time, he did get an answer.
"Steven?" the gruff and garbled voice of Brag demanded from the other side of the door. "Why the hell isn't my key card working? Did you lock the damn door?"
Steven sighed in total relief. Despite being confused beyond words, there wasn't some unholy abomination lurking behind the door. Now he was almost positive he and Ben were sharing in a hallucination of some kind. But just to be sure, he turned to the security feed. It was back to normal. On the screen was his General, arms cross and clearly irritated on the other side of the locked door. He holstered his gun. "Sorry, sir. Must not have noticed. Force of habit." He explained loudly so Brag heard him clearly. He typed in the manual unlock code and reactivated the door to open.
General Brag didn't burst in. Steven took the initiative to open it for him, an excuse for them being in the control room already prepared. The empty hallway greeted him. That explanation dried on his tongue. He looked up and down the two hallways. He turned about face and past Ben's gawking to return a gaze back to the security screen. It matched the now vacant hallway. No creature, no Brag.
He hadn't even noticed he was trembling until he reached up to close the door.