Chapter 14

After letting Thunderblast go free, Dirge, Astro and Rook made their way back to the ground level of the dwelling complex, where the rest of their companions awaited them.

Dirge glanced at Astro, who watched as Rook studied a hand-held scanner. “Do you think she believed you?” he asked in a low voice, as if worried that Thunderblast, somehow, might overhear them talking, even though it wasn’t possible.

Astro remained expressionless; his tall, robust form silhouetted against the morning rays of Alternity City’s blazing, giant yellow star. Then a small hint of a smile appeared on his face, as he recalled the threats and promises he’d made to the purple and yellow Cybertronian femme only a short time ago. “If I was a betting mech, I’d say yes,” he answered finally.

“Huh.” Dirge stood with his arms crossed, a sour expression on his face as he evaluated their latest plan. “But something tells me that you’re not much of a betting mech,” he retorted.

Dirge’s team mate, Thrust, stepped closer to the three of them. “So, what do we do now?” he asked, looking first to Dirge, and then to Astro for guidance. He still had his reservations about Astro’s assertion of leadership, though he trusted Dirge more than any mech and if both Dirge and Astrotrain were fine with Astro, then so was he.

“Hold on – I’m picking up something,” Astrotrain said suddenly.

Astro regarded the triple changer thoughtfully. “An energy signature?”

“No. On our com,” he replied with a look of confusion, then waited patiently for Astro’s instruction.

“I think I’m getting the same thing,” Rook said, looking back at them quizzically. “It’s an unsecured transmission.”

Thrust nodded in acknowledgment, having picked up the same signal, while the other jets hinted at the same, and no sooner had Rook spoken than Astro activated the audio receiver in his forearm so that they could all hear the message.

It was the voice of a femme. “Shhh. Astrotrain, please respond.”

The other Decepticon jets moved closer to listen as Rook glanced across at the triple changer, slightly amused. “Do you know who that is?”

Astrotrain seemed to have no clue as to the identity of the femme on the other end, or why she would be asking for him. He shook his head and shrugged, then looked back at his companions with curiosity. “I don’t pick up where the message is being sent from,” he noted.

“Nor do I,” Astro replied. “We can’t connect to an unsecured channel for long. They’ll be able to trace it straight back to us.” He looked at them uncertainly, thinking of what they should do. Indeed, if they responded to the message, the Hitec base would undoubtedly pick up the signal and then use it to pinpoint their location.

Rook broke the temporary silence. “Is it worth the risk?” he asked, looking toward Astrotrain as he did so.

Astro glanced at Rook before answering for Astrotrain, “No.” But then after a moment he added, “Answer it, anyway,” nodding at Astrotrain.

The feminine voice came over Astro’s link again. “Come on… Astrotrain, let me know you can hear this,” she said.

Keeping his gaze fixed on Astro, the purple and grey triple changer activated his transmitter, but remained hesitant. He hoped that it wasn’t some sort of trick, as he would hate to be the one responsible for giving away their location to the Supremacists. Nevertheless Astro and Rook waited patiently for him to answer the mysterious femme and so, finally, he did. “Who is this?”

“This is Chromia.” The femme paused, and a look of recognition came over Astro.

“Chromia,” he repeated, recalling the name, before addressing the gathered Decepticons. “She’s an Autobot femme,” he explained. “A member of Elita One’s crew. I don’t know why she’s here, on Alternity City.”

Astrotrain thought that the name sounded familiar as well, somehow, though he still wasn’t certain how he might know her. Before he could respond she clarified.

“Uh, we met at the energy accumulator?”

That’s when the memory of his unexpected encounter with the two Autobot femmes at an energy plant near Koltar came flooding back into his processor. The look of realization on his face told his two companions that Chromia’s story was true.

“So, you do know her?” Rook mused, though a playful smile tugged at his mouth.

“Well, yeah, I – wait, you don’t think that–” Astrotrain gave the smaller Decepticon a sordid look, catching his drift. His expression was one of disapproval, his tone defensive. “We met briefly just the other day. I helped her and her friend out a bit, and then we parted ways.” He reactivated his com without waiting for Rook’s response. “Oh… yeah, that's right. I remember you.” Then he added, more to get a reaction out of Rook than for any other reason, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Elita One's been captured… she needs help,” Chromia replied over the com link.

Astrotrain watched and waited for Astro’s response, who considered the information with a calm disposition, carefully weighing up the situation. Then he simply nodded, and Astrotrain gave Chromia his reply. “This channel's unsecured. If you want, we can meet somewhere?”

“Okay… ah, how about…” There was an interruption in Chromia’s speech, and then another feminine voice could be heard in the background, though it wasn’t clear. Astrotrain could just make out the words. “How about the Koltar Air Base? It's connected to the subway system, and it's not too far from here.” Then Chromia’s voice again. “Okay. The Koltar Air Base?”

Astrotrain indicated towards the north for Astro’s benefit. “Koltar’s not too far from here.” He spoke into his com again. “Sounds good to me,” he replied.

“Say in… a couple of breems?” she said, and he was about to respond when she continued, adding, “Oh, and… Astrotrain?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

He briefly wondered whether Rook had taken her show of gratitude the wrong way but then dismissed the thought, though it still made him feel a little self-conscious. “Don't mention it,” he said, and disconnected from the transmission.

Immediately, Rook looked back at Astro in alarm. “I’m picking up two Cybertronian signatures, though one of them is indistinct – approaching, approximately one hundred thirty six mega-miles…”

The gathered Decepticons all turned to him, momentarily startled.

“Unscheduled?” Astro demanded, his attention now fully on his smaller companion. “Rook?”

Rook nodded emphatically, pointing at the sky just above the distant horizon to the north-east. “Yes!” Adjusting their visual range, they could all make out the tiny silhouette of an aircraft, though due to its distance away they could not make out any clear visual details.

“What’s the other signature?”

Rook looked over his shoulder at his companions. “It’s Autobot,” he informed them with nonchalant curiosity. Astro stepped closer toward the green mech to look over his shoulder. Then he grabbed the scanner from his hand and studied it for a moment.

“Think it’s him?” Astrotrain queried him hesitantly.

Astro slowly shook his head as he watched the rogue plane in the sky change course and begin to head north. “Not sure.” Whoever the two Cybertronians were, they would soon be tracked by the Destron Precinct control station, which had become nothing more than a front for the Hitec base’s surveillance unit. Astro had witnessed its covert infiltration and takeover first-hand over the last few stellar cycles, though had been unable to do anything to intervene for fear of blowing his cover. After a brief moment of contemplation he made his decision, casting his gaze directly at Dirge and his team of jets. “Can you scout ahead?” he said, indicating towards the diminishing speck on the horizon with a brief tilt of his head. Dirge glanced at his companions before nodding in the affirmative. “Good. But be careful to cover your tracks, and stay low. They’re probably being followed. Let me know as soon as you’ve identified them.”

Dirge nodded again with a solemn sense of duty, and then leaped into the air in flight, but did not activate his jet mode, and immediately headed out to follow the mystery jet.

Astro watched as Dirge’s team mates followed suit, taking flight in their robot modes, before he turned back to Astrotrain and Rook. “Come on, let’s go,” he prompted as he, too, began to head north.

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Thunderblast raced along the unfamiliar streets, heading in a southerly direction towards Binaltech, wanting to get as far away from the dwelling complex as possible. She had been running for almost fifteen minutes, replaying the events of that morning and of the night before over and over again in her processor, and the more she remembered Dirge’s deceptive show of interest in her the more furious she became, until it felt as though she would explode from her broiling anger. She felt utterly humiliated, not to mention betrayed, by a mech whom she had secretly admired from a distance, and now she wanted nothing more than to exact revenge upon him and his Decepticon pals. However, she was afraid of what Astro had done to her, and she recalled with bitterness the fact that she was essentially unable to do anything, or even contact anyone, without his knowing about it. That bastard.

She was so consumed with anger and resentment that she did not notice the enhanced form of an orange and grey jet transformer emerge from the street corner just ahead. His large frame completely blocked her path and she almost ran straight into him. A hand gripped her upper arm tightly and she yelped in fright, startled. The jet-former dragged her back behind the corner into a side street and rammed her against a featureless grey wall, pinning her with his strong grip. “Jhiaxus,” she whispered in recognition. Despite her helplessness against his incredible physical strength, she tried not to show fear.

He scowled, his sunken cheeks and heavyset jaw all the more menacing as he leaned threateningly closer to her face. “You know where he is, don’t you?” he said accusingly, his voice a low rumble.

“He?” Thunderblast tried to act as clueless as possible, though she had never felt so much fear in her entire life. “Ahem… Jhiaxus… I really don’t know what you’re talking about–” She felt her hull wings as they were slammed hard against the wall, and she let out a startled cry. “Please… please…” she begged, and the very energon in her fuel lines congealed in response to her terror.

But he simply ignored her fear; he was only after one thing. “Where is he?” he demanded, raising his voice so that he was almost screaming the words at her. “Where is Comet?”

“Wh… what?” she said, in between sobs, surprised. She had thought that he had meant Astro, not Comet. “I don’t know… I swear… please, Jhiaxus… please…” she told him truthfully. He continued to bore holes into her with his stare, unconvinced, and so she resumed her pleas in the weak hope that maybe, just maybe, he might believe her ignorance and decide to let her go. In that moment of terror she couldn’t say whether she would rather suffer an irreversible shutdown of her main processor courtesy of Astro, or be beaten senseless by Jhiaxus, but while the latter option would hurt much more than the former, a cascade failure would mean the end of her. “Please,” she begged again, her voice trembling and barely above a whisper, “I don’t know where Comet is… please.”

“If you’re lying to me, Thunderblast…” he threatened, his intention deadly serious. It would take him less than an astro-second to permanently deactivate her; all he’d have to do was tear out her spark chamber with his bare hands, or crush her throat until the internal circuitry inside her cranial unit overheated from the sudden pressure that would result after her coolant system ceased to function.

“No… no, no, no, no… I’m not… please… please, I’m not lying to you. I don’t know where he is–!” she pleaded in desperation, her entire frame shuddering involuntarily.

“Shut up!” he demanded, snarling. “Stop your sniveling.” She tried to do as he had told her but couldn’t help the sobs or the quivering, despite her best efforts. Once she had quietened down enough, he spoke to her again, his voice calmer. “Tell me, then… what were you doing with that detestable Decepticon slagger, hm?”

Her widened optics stared back at him, and it was as if her entire body had become nothing but an empty husk, devoid of consciousness. She dared not move or speak, but then he shook her violently, and she cried out again. “No, stop! Please, stop, please… I’ll tell you everything I know, please! Just don’t hurt me, please…” she begged, sobbing again. “I haven’t seen him… I don’t know where he is–” Suddenly his grip on her arms tightened, and again she faltered, words failing her.

Jhiaxus gave her a disparaging look, mocking her, enjoying her fear. “Hmmm… fancy little refuelling station… corner of 52nd and 41st… you and… ahhh… what was his name? Hmmm?” He spoke slowly, emphasizing every word so that he would get his point across in her heightened state of fear.

It began to dawn on her that Jhiaxus was not referring to any alleged encounter with Comet this time, but to her actual meeting with Dirge the day before. She recalled the Decepticon’s words inside the refuelling outlet warning her that she had been followed, but she had dismissed it almost without a second thought. Then, once she’d realized that Dirge had lied to her just to get her to follow him to the dwelling complex, she had decided that nothing of what he had told her during the time they’d spent together had been truthful; but, now, it looked as though not everything he had said had been a lie, after all.

Thinking quickly, pushing against her fear, she had to come up with some way of convincing Jhiaxus that she had done nothing wrong. “Oh, you mean Dirge?” she uttered, trying to sound as innocent as possible. He looked at her critically, as if he were trying to decide whether he should kill her right then and there, or give her a chance to explain herself. “Ha. Oh, yes!  Um… that was Dirge. I… um, I mean, you know, he followed me there… and then wanted to talk. That’s – that’s all that happened. I – I swear!” She tried to look as sincere as possible, but his expression remained cold.

Jhiaxus took a long while before he finally spoke again. “What did he want to talk about?”

Thunderblast’s air intakes worked overtime to counter her panic but, miraculously, she managed to remain focused. If she played her cards right, she may just get away with her life. “Oh. He, he… asked me about Comet. He wanted to know where he was… and… and that, uh, Megatron had… had asked about him.”

Jhiaxus’ green optics flickered at the mention of the Decepticon leader’s name, and he hesitated. “If you’re lying to me…” he started, but she cut him short.

“I’m not! I swear to you, Jhiaxus – that’s what he told me!” Then, after a moment, he released his grip on her and she collapsed, losing her balance. Then she slowly shifted her position but did not dare to stand, instead she remained crouched low against the wall. She cycled air a few times, trying to regain her composure before finally tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

“Tell me everything you know,” he said, looking down at her. “Leave nothing out… and I may allow you to walk away.”

She felt a sudden surge of relief, but dared not reveal to him her thoughts; it was not over yet. She nodded dutifully, looking up at him in earnest. “He said… that Megatron is willing to offer a high reward for Comet.” She rubbed her helm, as if trying to recall the details of her conversation. “Something about… wanting to find him at any cost.” She was silent for a long while, trying to keep her fear under control so that Jhiaxus would not detect her falsehood. Though, the information she had just given him was not entirely false.

“What else?” he demanded.

She shook her head slowly, and then locked her gaze with his. Hoping against hope that he would be satisfied with what she was telling him and decide to let her go free. “Dirge also mentioned that – that Megatron was willing to trade… Astro… for Comet. I don’t know anything more; I swear… that’s all he told me.”

The next few moments felt like the most intense moments she’d ever experienced in her life, as she waited with trepidation for Jhiaxus’s reaction. Then, in the blink of an optic he had transformed into his alt mode and shot upwards into the sky, his boosters leaving a trail of smoke as he streaked away out of sight.

The moment she was sure that he had truly gone, she allowed herself to collapse to the ground, her frame trembling from the fright of her encounter, and quietly began to sob.

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The three Autobot femmes made the short journey to the Koltar Air Base in their vehicle modes, keeping to the side streets so as not to attract any undue attention, though the suburb of Koltar was mostly industrial – the only mechs in the vicinity mostly workers at the various factories nearby.

The Air Base itself was mostly a flat expanse, on which were situated a few hangars, and an underground, connecting subway point.  Other than a wide, main building at its entrance, there were not very many other visible structures; indeed, it was significantly smaller in comparison to the much busier inner-city space ports of Binaltech and Hitec.

“Do you think he’s already here?” Moonracer said, transforming back into robot mode and peeking into the complex from outside the fenced perimeter. She was a little nervous about their meeting with a Decepticon under seemingly amicable circumstances, though she couldn’t help but feel a little excited by the whole idea as well; the chances for such a meeting, if she were back on Cybertron, would have been virtually zero.

“That’s assuming he’s even going to show up at all,” Firestar said, transforming and walking up to stand behind her.

The two of them began to follow Chromia into the main building, the front gates opening and closing automatically as they walked through. Once inside, the small foyer branched out in four different directions; the reception area, the waiting area, hangar access, and the subway system.

“So, where does one meet a Decepticon these days?” Firestar said sardonically, directing her comment at Chromia, her arms crossed in front of her. She was still sceptical about the whole arrangement, but tried to keep her misgivings to herself – most of them at least, if not all – for her friend’s sake.

The second in charge, however, could easily read through her façade. “Give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out then you can yell at me all you want, okay?” Chromia said, her voice subdued as a group of non-Cybertronian mechanoids walked past them on their way through into the waiting area. Then she waved at her two team mates to follow them in. “Come on.”

They finally decided on a cluster of seats in one corner of the waiting area, near a window that overlooked the runway outside. The place seemed safe enough; a fairly nondescript setting with very little activity. After almost a breem of waiting, Firestar, seated opposite the blue femme, finally let out a cycle of air, impatient and increasingly anxious. When Chromia looked to her questioningly, she returned an expression of mild exasperation. “I still don’t know that this is such a great idea, Chrome,” she confessed at last. “We can’t afford to make another mistake, not after Elita.”

Chromia released a small sigh and looked down at the floor. “I know, ‘Star. I just…” she said, trailing off, trying to come up with good enough justification for her actions – though more for her own benefit than for her friend’s. Before she could look squarely up into her optics she felt Moonracer’s hand grabbing her arm, shaking her.

“Chromia! Chromia, look! I think it’s him!” Moonracer whispered, unable to contain her excitement.

“What?” She looked up and followed Moonracer’s pointing finger, while Firestar cautiously glanced over her shoulder behind her.

And, sure enough, there he was, standing by the entrance to the subway on the other side of the foyer. He was unaccompanied, and watched with an unhurried, quiet assuredness at the unobtrusive comings and goings of mechs inside the building. He took his time, probably wanting to make certain that he wasn’t being followed, until his gaze finally settled on the three femmes in the waiting area. Then he began to walk towards them with a casual, confident stride. Firestar rose from her seat, ready to confront him, but Chromia leaned across to stop her. “Wait,” she told her, adding, “Just let me talk to him first.”

As he entered the waiting area, Moonracer sat up straight, her optics fixed upon the purple and grey Decepticon. Her mouth hung slightly open, though she did not realize how she must have looked until Chromia nudged her with an elbow, startling her out of her reverie. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a Decepticon before,” Chromia whispered.

“Well, I haven’t, really. Not up close,” Moonracer managed to reply, before the subject of her fascination stopped short in front of the three of them. He glanced briefly back over his shoulder, before his gaze settled upon Chromia.

As she stood up to greet him, he noted that her frame was much smaller than his, though he also sensed a reserved strength coming from her. It was the same quiet strength she had demonstrated when they had last crossed paths at the energy accumulator.

“Thanks for showing up,” she said. He regarded her calmly, his red optics bright and intense, and she continued without waiting for his reply. “We never did get the chance to thank you for helping us out at the energy plant.”

Astrotrain simply nodded, then glanced down at the two femmes who were still seated. He largely ignored Firestar’s resolute stare as she turned her head to observe him; instead his gaze lingered on Moonracer’s eager yet worried expression for a few moments before he looked back at Chromia. “I hear you’ve got a bigger problem,” he said.

Before Chromia could respond, Moonracer jumped up from her seat to stand beside the blue femme. “Elita’s been captured. You’ve got to help us find her – please!” she blurted out, almost pleading.

Astrotrain glanced at her, and Chromia couldn’t tell whether he was uncomfortable with the situation, or simply unsure. “Okay, look. I can’t make you any promises. Unless you know where they’ve taken her, we probably won’t be able to…” he began, but then faltered as he saw the look in the two femme’s optics, suddenly feeling sorry for them. They were stranded, the three of them on Alternity City with only each other for support, and now they’d lost their team leader. It was a miracle they were even still alive.

“Did you come here alone?” Chromia asked him as the thought entered her head.

He averted her gaze only long enough to look out the nearby window at the runway, where a couple of aircrafts were preparing for take off. He saw no benefit in withholding the truth from her. “No,” he said, purposefully. “I brought two friends along.”

His answer did not alarm Chromia nearly as much as it did Firestar. She stood up, finally, facing him in an accusatory manner. “Oh, that’s just great. Now look here, Astrotrain, if this is some sort of trick, we’re not falling for it. You got that?”

Astrotrain turned his attention to the fiery red femme, her blue optics filled with a stubborn determination.

“Firestar!” Chromia rebuked her in disappointment, but Astrotrain interrupted before she could say anything more.

“Hey, it’s no trick,” he reassured them, seemingly unfazed by Firestar’s accusation. “Though I’d probably feel the same way, if I were in your situation. Look, it’s probably best if…” he trailed off, glancing behind him again, and remained standing there for a long moment, seemingly lost in another world.

“Astrotrain?” Chromia ventured, but he wasn’t hearing her. Instead, he suddenly pushed his way past them to look out the window, his attention fixed on the skyline outside.

The three femmes kept their gaze on the Decepticon until he finally stepped away from the window and turned to face them again. “We’ve all got to get the frag out of here, now,” he said in alarm, his voice low yet forceful.

“What’s going on?” Moonracer questioned, concern evident on her face.

“No time to explain – just follow me,” he said to them, and began walking back towards the foyer, his pace quickening as he went. He stopped for a brief moment to wave them forwards. “Come on!” he urged, almost angered, before crossing the foyer and stepping through the entrance to the subway.

Chromia looked at Moonracer and then at Firestar, and knew that whatever decision she made next could either save their lives, or put them all in serious danger. In a move that was both spontaneous and spark-felt, she sprinted for the subway entrance. There was a moment of awkward silence between the two remaining femmes, and then they both broke into a run after her.

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Thunderblast remained on the ground with her head leaning against the wall, unmoving, for well over half an hour. The anger and resentment she had felt towards Dirge and Astro and the other Decepticons before her unexpected encounter with Jhiaxus had been replaced by a clear-headedness that she had not had in a long time. She wasn’t sure whether or not her new frame of mind was exclusively a result of her recent, frightful ordeal, but one thing was certain: she had come face-to-face with her own mortality and had, somehow, survived it. Despite all her intentions and motivations, the experience had changed something, had awoken within her an innate, undefinable sense of purpose that had lain dormant ever since she had made the decision to become one of Sentinel Prime’s informants.

It was her natural talents that had allowed her to become involved in top level espionage and surveillance over the course of her stay on Alternity City, which meant that she had made many connections, some more valuable, or more dangerous, than others, and whilst Jhiaxus was one of those connections, he had never before treated her with such disrespect, and with such utter disregard for her life. She had often provided him with useful intel, had even offered to track down and deactivate various prized fugitives for him in the past, but he had never, never turned on her before.

She recalled the time when he had first mentioned Comet to her, many stellar cycles ago. He‘d given her explicit instructions to track him, watch his every move, and then to report back what she had learned. Her mission had been highly top secret, and she had not been allowed to divulge any sensitive information about Comet to anyone but Jhiaxus himself. She had also been instructed to befriend the seeker and offer him false information, along with news from Cybertron, so that he would be ever dissuaded from entertaining the notion that he should leave Alternity City – and, indeed, her mission had proven successful, for the most part. There had been times when she had almost lost him; his erratic moods and tendency to attract unwanted trouble at the most inopportune moment meant that he had not always been easy to keep track of.

She knew that, should Comet ever become more of a liability to the High Commander of the Hitec base, or even to the leader of the Neutrals, than he was of value to them, Jhiaxus would give her the order to terminate him – code 187. She also knew that that day was probably fast approaching but realized that, regardless of her best efforts to remain detached about her mission, she had developed a certain fondness for the rebellious seeker and did not particularly wish to see him killed. Even so, she had been prepared to carry out her orders, despite any feelings she might have had for him.

Now, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Something about Jhiaxus’ cold stare, devoid of all consideration for anyone but himself – his unending quest for power and the pleasure he derived from the suffering of others – had struck some part of her conscience that she could no longer ignore. Even as he had pinned her against the wall, his nose tip almost touching hers, the sum of her life had flashed before her processor, and she had been confronted with the truth of her own existence. She had not been ready to die, and certainly not by Jhiaxus’ hand, and as she lay there on the ground afterwards, sobbing, realization had hit her. Her life, her purpose for being, had no meaning. What real worth had she ever been to anyone? What difference had she ever truly made, in any mech’s life? She would be kidding herself if she thought, even for a moment, that Sentinel Prime cared for her, regardless of how much he had told her that he valued her not only as an associate, but also as a close friend. However, the thing that had frightened her most had been the realization of seeing her own reflection in Jhiaxus’ optics, and that if she continued on her current path she would end up just as cold and empty as he was.

Slowly, cautiously, she stood up and looked about her. The street where she had been intercepted by Jhiaxus earlier was filled with pedestrians and ground vehicles going about their daily business, completely oblivious to her existence. The main flow of traffic was headed towards Binaltech, and so she stepped back out into the moving stream and began to run in the opposite direction.

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“Easy, now… easy.” The Autobot Chief Medical Officer checked the readout on the monitor again and then glanced down at Groove’s still form, watching him intently. Red Alert had successfully made the connection to Groove’s autonomous processor and was ready to begin feeding selected stimuli into the patient on Ratchet’s signal. The Protectobot was hooked up to specialized neuro linking equipment, while Red Alert stood closely by with controller in hand. Arcee was seated beside Groove, holding his hand and ready to offer her assistance.

Groove had been induced into a semi-lucid state, and looked as though he might be dreaming; he seemed to be mostly at peace, though his expression also revealed a hint of his troubled consciousness.

Ratchet cycled air deeply, waiting for precisely the right moment to begin the painstaking process of reconstructing his lost memory. Every step had to be timed just right, or it would simply fail to work. “All right, Red, get ready to do exactly as I showed you, on my mark.”

“Ready,” Red responded, and then watched as Ratchet monitored Groove’s signals. After several seconds the chief medical officer indicated for him to proceed with a careful nod, and Red immediately activated his controller.

“Not too much,” Ratchet instructed. “That’s good. Hold it there for a klik.”

The three of them watched intently, waiting for any sign that showed that Groove’s processor was successfully receiving the simulated emotional impulses and that, if so, they were being processed through his autonomous system. With guidance this would, in turn, rebuild associated memories that would then be relayed through his sensory circuits.

Satisfied, Ratchet indicated for Red Alert to increase the intensity of the stimulus. “A little more,” he said, “keep going.” Groove continued to lie still until finally he flinched, turned his head to the side. “All right, hold it.” Ratchet motioned to Red by holding up a hand, then nodded to the femme. “Go ahead, Arcee.”

Arcee looked at Groove sympathetically and then began to speak to him, guiding him with her gentle voice, her hand still holding his. “Groove, can you hear me? Groove, it’s me, Arcee. I want you to let me know if you can hear me, okay?”

Groove stirred, and then grunted, strained to speak. “Ar… cee,” he said.

“Yes, I’m right here. Now, I want you to focus on my voice. I want you to try to follow me exactly. Can you do that for me?” she continued, her voice soothing and reassuring.

“Uh…” he replied, and then slowly nodded his head. His optics were dimmed and his responses strained, but at least he was aware of her.

“Ok, good. Now, I want you to know that you’re safe. No matter what you might see, or hear, or feel, I want you to know that you’re always safe. Nothing can harm you. Do you understand that?” Arcee said, speaking as softly yet as firmly as possible.

“Uh… huh,” he responded, before becoming still again.

Arcee paused, and silence settled around the med bay as the three of them prepared for the next step. She knew that what she had to do was not easy, not for Groove or her or any of them, and she braced herself, reminded herself that she needed to stay strong throughout the process, no matter how Groove might react. None of them had any idea what he had actually experienced the night of his attack, and she had to prepare for the worst. She glanced over at Ratchet, who looked back at her with a steady gaze, his expression resolute. Then he simply nodded, indicating that she should continue. She turned back to the patient, squeezing his hand. “Groove, I want you to tell me how you’re feeling right now.”

There was a pause as Groove processed her request. “I… I’m not sure,” he said uncertainly. She was about to try and probe further into his state of mind, but then he continued. “I’m… scared… Arcee… there’s… something’s wrong.”

Arcee kept her gaze focused on Groove. It was vital that she remained in control of the situation. “Do you know where you are?”

He stirred, and his brow furrowed in troubled confusion. “I think… I’m in Iacon.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s good.” She paused as Red Alert adjusted the sensory input, and then resumed her questioning. “Groove, I want you to look around and tell me if there’s anybody there with you. Can you do that for me?”

Silence began to fill the room as Groove took his time to process the request. “No one… I’m alone,” he said finally.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling now? Are you still feeling scared?” Arcee ventured. “Remember, nothing can hurt you.” Groove’s expression became troubled, and he began to turn his head from side to side as if he were looking for something that wasn’t really there. “I want you to try to stay calm, okay?” she continued. “Groove, tell me what’s happening around you.”

Groove began to inhale sharply, his inhales uneven. “There’s… someone behind me,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m… I think I’m being followed.”

Arcee nodded, happy with the results thus far though she feared that the worst was yet to come. Speaking carefully and slowly into his audial sensor, she continued. “You’re doing really well, Groove. I want you to tell me what’s happening. Do you see anyone now?”

The Protectobot was unresponsive at first, but when he finally spoke his voice was barely audible. “There’s… three of them… Neutrals. They… want to talk to me.” Then his expression showed confusion, and he shuddered involuntarily but said nothing further.

Arcee looked back at Red uncertainly, and then at Ratchet, but before she had time to properly assess Groove’s words the patient suddenly became agitated, his entire frame shuddering continually. Arcee refocused her attention on the patient. “Groove? Groove, can you hear me?”

“Nyah… uhh.” Groove was suddenly in obvious distress, his utterances unintelligible. He could only manage to speak a few words. “They… they’re… no… no–”

“Groove, tell me what’s happening,” Arcee insisted. “Groove!”

But the Protectobot was losing focus. He began to cry out for help, reaching out at something that only he could see, seemingly oblivious to all other input.

“Damn it, his module’s overloading. Shut it down,” Ratchet said, rushing to lean over the berth. “Shut it down!” he repeated, looking up at Red, and the former security officer rushed to comply.

Arcee tried to calm the erratic patient, stroking his forehead as she held him down firmly against the berth until his sudden outburst subsided. Then she stood up and took a step back, watching as Ratchet took over, checking the patient’s vital signs.

After several seconds, he stepped away from the berth and sighed in relief. Groove lay motionless, his optics dimmed, returned to a state of peaceful unconsciousness. “He’ll be fine,” Ratchet told them, and then added, “Let him rest. We’ll try again tomorrow,” before he walked out of the med bay without another word.

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When Arcee checked in on Groove a few hours later, two of his team mates were keeping him company. He had regained consciousness and was sitting up on his berth, listening quietly as they entertained him with stories of their recent adventures. Hot Spot and Blades turned to see who had entered the med bay and stepped back as Arcee approached, giving her room to walk around and check his monitor.

“How’s he doing, Arcee?” Blades asked, after she’d barely finished checking his monitor readout.

“He’s doing great,” she answered with a smile. “Now, why don’t you boys wait outside, just for a little while? I won’t keep him for long, I promise.”

Hot Spot motioned for Blades to do as she’d requested. “Oh, I know you’ll take real good care of him,” he said to the femme, and then left the med bay with his team mate after giving Groove and Arcee a final wave.

She turned back to Groove and took a seat beside him, offering him a reassuring smile. “You’re doing really well.” She paused, giving him a chance to reply, but he simply acknowledged her with a smile of his own. “You know, I’m here for you if you want to talk about your experience,” she said. Groove sat there for a good while, contemplating the events of his memory retrieval session. He seemed uncertain about how to respond so she tried a different approach, reaching her hand for his. “Have you told your team mates about what you’ve remembered so far?”

He shook his head, looking down at her hand. “No.” She nodded in acknowledgment, listening to his every word. “I don’t want to say anything, you know? Not until I know for sure what happened.”

“Of course,” she replied empathically. “Oh, listen, we’ve scheduled another session for you tomorrow morning, if you’re happy to try again.”

He looked up at her, his blue optics intense. “Arcee?” She waited for him to continue. “I was wondering. If – if I remember everything… and I find out who attacked me, what's going to happen?”

Arcee simply smiled back at him, ran her hand down his arm in reassurance. She wasn’t quite sure exactly what he meant, nor how to answer, so she decided it was best to play it safe for the time being. “You know what I think? I think that no matter what, you’re going to be just fine.” After a pause, she rose from her chair. “You should try to get some more rest.” Then she gave him one last reassuring smile before she made her way out of the med bay, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

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It was Jazz’s second experience with the Decepticons’ teleporter. One moment he was standing in the control room, and then the next he’d found himself in a dark, underground pocket somewhere deep within one of Cybertron’s many sub-surface layers. He had momentarily lost consciousness during the transit but, unlike the first time when he’d found himself inside the holding cell with Streetwise, he had been more prepared and had recovered quickly as a result.

The four Constructicons immediately surveyed the space they found themselves in; Hook and Long Haul provided some illumination, as did Jazz, revealing a smooth-walled chamber that linked four intersecting tunnels.

The Decepticon leader immediately took command of their mission. “Scrapper?”

“I’m not picking up any individual signatures, only a faint energy reading. The Detention Banks should be two hundred mechano-meters down that tunnel,” Scrapper informed the group, pointing ahead.

Megatron, standing beside Jazz, noticed the leader of the Constructicons’ slight reservation. “‘Should?’”

“Well, according to our maps, but it doesn’t seem to be showing up on my scanner,” he explained.

Megatron indicated to the two Cassetticons who had been chosen to accompany them. “Go on ahead and report back what you find.”

Jazz watched them disappear down the tunnel; Ravage bounding ahead as Rumble sprinted after him. His own stored map indicated that Scrapper’s description of the location of the Detention Banks was accurate, but he, too, could not pick up a detailed layout of those co-ordinates.

Jazz followed Megatron and the Constructicons as they led the way down the tunnel, and after only a few minutes Rumble reappeared at the other end, running back towards them. “Megatron!” he said, stopping in front of the Decepticon leader and pointing back down the tunnel. “Megatron… the Detention Banks, they’re at the end of this tunnel but there’s some kind of barrier – I can’t get past it.” A few moments later Ravage reappeared as well, confirming Rumble’s findings after Megatron queried him.

When they all reached the end of the tunnel, Jazz saw that it terminated at a thick, heavy wall, with a sealed access way built into it. There was a small sign above the access that read ‘Quadrant Epsilon Penal Vault – High Level Clearance Only’. The barrier that Rumble had referred to was a visible, high-energy force field in front of the wall; any kind of weapons fire or explosive would be useless against it. The entire structure was impenetrable.

“I can’t scan through the force field,” Scrapper informed them. “It’s hard to tell how guarded the place is.”

“So, how do we get inside?” Hook asked, turning to Jazz for the answer.

“You won’t be able to.” Jazz reached out to touch one of the plain metallic panels that made up the tunnel wall beside them. As he did so, it slid back to reveal a control pad underneath. “But I can.” Then he input a high level clearance code, and watched as the energy barrier suddenly disappeared before their optics. Jazz then turned to speak to the small group. “I’ll go in first; see if I can disable the alarm from the inside.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, he stepped toward the access way and entered another code into the control pad set into the solid door. Like magic it yielded to his will, and he stepped through into the darkness beyond.

As the door sealed closed behind him, overhead lighting automatically activated as he walked inside. Looking around, Jazz thought that he was in an antechamber of some sort; spacious though minimally furnished. He noted a row of data banks against the opposite wall, along with several sealed doors beside them, and to his right a lone terminal was set into the heavy bulkhead. He walked over to it and inserted a probe into the input port from one of his fingertips, then waited.

His function as the Autobot’s Head of Special Operations granted him a high rank, which included high-level permissions to all Alliance controlled facilities on Cybertron. Not only did he possess the full set of clearance codes, but his clearance level was even above that of several senior officers. There were only very few areas that he could not get access to, though even then he had ways and means to circumvent the security protocols. So, as far as the Detention Banks were concerned, it was no problem for him. Indeed, the small group of Decepticons were very fortunate to have him on this mission, for without his help their chances of success would have been virtually nonexistent.

When he walked back out again a few minutes later the Decepticons were waiting for him, on the alert for any sign of unwanted company. “I’ve disabled the surveillance system, but we’ve got to be quick or someone might get suspicious.”

Megatron nodded, walking past him to lead the way into the Detention Banks. “Then, let’s not waste any time,” he said.

Once inside, Jazz showed them to the row of data banks along the back wall of the antechamber. “Those hold the records of all the detainees,” he told them. He was going to say something more, but instead entered his personal access code on one of the touch-sensitive screens and then stepped aside to allow Scrapper access to the records. The leader of the Constructicons stepped forward cautiously, as if he were afraid that he might discover something in those records that he was not prepared for. “Go ahead,” Jazz encouraged him, noticing his hesitation, and Scrapper reached out to touch the screen with his fingertip. He was presented with a menu of options, and he began to narrow down his search by first organizing the list of detainees by allegiance. It did not take him long to sort through the database and retrieve the wanted records.

Rumble, who stood by Scrapper’s side, looked up at him intently. “Is he here?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

At first, Scrapper did not respond as he continued to study the list of entries, but then he stepped away and glanced down at the Cassetticon. He shook his head sadly, then met Jazz’s gaze before turning back to the screen, but did not say anything. His visor and face mask concealed his expression, though Jazz sensed his uneasiness.

The black and white Autobot looked back at the display and studied the list that Scrapper had brought up, before pointing to the entries. “These guys right here… that means they’re being held in stasis. But they’re alive,” he informed them, interpreting the cryptic data beside the names of the detainees. Megatron stepped forward to study the list of names, and Jazz continued. “It says that they’re in Vault 3.”

Long Haul began to pace the row of doors beside the data banks until he came to a stop in front of one of them. “Over here,” he informed his team mates.

Scrapper looked up as Jazz walked over to Long Haul and activated the sealed door to the vault with a high-level access code. Again, it slid open without protest. As Jazz stepped inside the vault the automatic lighting came to life, revealing an immense space that was filled with rows upon rows of vertical containment units. A few of the units contained prisoners in stasis, though most were empty.

In silence, each Decepticon took an isle and began to scan the rows of units, looking for the familiar forms of their imprisoned friends. Jazz started to walk down the first isle, helping them with their search, but soon stopped in front of one of the pods. He had to take a closer look at the motionless form inside the unit, and was taken aback by what he saw. He stood very still, staring at the prisoner in front of him.

“Jazz?” One of the Decepticons was calling out his name from another isle. “Jazz? We found ‘em!” He noted that it was Rumble, but he was still too much in shock by what he’d just discovered to respond. He must have been in quite a state, because it wasn’t until the sound of Megatron’s voice startled him back into the present moment that he realized that both Megatron and Rumble were standing right behind him.

“Jazz?”

 “Huh? Oh.” He studied the containment unit one more time before following the Decepticon leader out of the isle.

The three of them rejoined the other Decepticons, who had been waiting in one of the isles, and Scrapper pointed to a row of five prisoners. Jazz quickly opened up the control panel on the first unit and input a high level clearance code to initialize the process that would bring the prisoner out of stasis. Moving quickly, he didn’t stop until he’d repeated the procedure for the other four detainees. “That all of them?” he asked quickly, well aware that time was running short.

“Yes,” Megatron replied.

They all watched in earnest as each prisoner began to stir awake inside his pod, the automated process of deactivation of their stasis modes controlled and regulated by the containment units themselves. The process took about a breem to complete, after which the transparent panel on the front of each pod unlocked and then retracted.

The first detainee, now fully conscious, was helped out of his unit by Hook and Bonecrusher. “Uhh… where… am I?” he said, recognizing the Decepticon leader. “Megatron?”

“It is good to have you back, Onslaught,” Megatron replied, and Jazz noticed a look of elation on the Decepticon leader’s face, overshadowed with concern yet unmistakeable.

Onslaught slowly looked around him, still disoriented from his long detainment in stasis as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, and it slowly began to dawn on him that he was inside a Detention Center. Noticing the Autobot nearby, he gave Megatron a quizzical look. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“There’s no time to explain. We must leave,” Megatron told him. As the other four prisoners regained consciousness, they were also helped out of their units, and then they were all heading back out of the vault.

Jazz lingered behind, watching them leave, and Megatron looked back at him expectantly. “Are you coming back with us?” he queried, still obviously pleased that five of his Decepticons had been returned to him alive and well.

“There’s one more,” Jazz said simply, indicating back down the first isle behind him.

Megatron nodded in understanding. “We’ll wait for you outside,” he said, before exiting the vault after the other Decepticons.

Jazz turned and walked back down along the first isle, until he was standing in front of the prisoner. Then, after a brief moment of contemplation, he deactivated the stasis mode on the containment unit.

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It was almost the end of the recharge cycle. Groove had managed to catch up on a few more hours of recharge, but the thought of undergoing another memory reconstruction procedure in less than an hour was keeping him awake. He sat up and swung his legs over his berth, before standing up and making his way to the med bay doors. Glancing about, he began to walk down the hall.

He had no particular place to go, and just needed to clear his head. He had spent a lot of time in the med bay ever since he had awakened from his semi-stasis condition and needed a change of pace, but a brief walk would also give him the opportunity to consider the recently restored memory from his first reconstruction session. He remembered admiring the Crystal Gardens in south-central Iacon on a beautiful, quiet night under the stars, and thought about heading out there now, but then reconsidered – he did not want to be late for his morning session. He needed to find out what had happened to him, and wondered about the three Neutrals from his memory. Had they tried to save him that night? Or had their motivations been less than helpful? He had no idea. He did not yet have enough information.

As he approached the main recreational area on the ground floor of the Command Center he stopped short, lingering in the hallway. A group of mini-bots were seated together at one of the tables. He didn’t really feel like interacting with anyone and only wanted to be alone, so he turned back the way he had come. That’s when he saw the large silhouette of a mech standing in the hallway, watching him. As he walked closer towards the figure, he realized that it was Sentinel Prime.

“Hello, Groove. How are you feeling?” the red and black mech asked him.

“Oh, fine. The neuro linking procedure is really helping me to remember what happened…” he began to reply, but trailed off as Sentinel’s expression suddenly turned cold.

“The what?” Sentinel gave him such a stern look that he thought he’d melt beneath the former Prime’s gaze, and he became aware of a sudden chill in the air that made him involuntarily shudder. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly had the urge to get as far away from the Neutral leader as possible.

Averting his optics, Groove began to walk past the larger mech on his way back down the hall until he thought Sentinel had shifted his focus away from him, and then instinctively broke into a run.

He did not stop running as he rounded the corner, and almost collided with another mech, but the Autobot caught him by his arms. “Hey, Groove,” the mech said. “Take it easy.”

Groove relaxed when he realized who it was. “Hi, Sideswipe.”

Sideswipe released his grip on him and stepped back, studying the Protectobot. “It’s good to have you back. Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah… I’m, I’m okay,” he said, though he didn’t sound too convincing.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sideswipe said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Then he looked up as a mech appeared in the hallway behind them.

Groove glanced briefly over his shoulder before turning back to Sideswipe. He tried to hide his fear, but his optics gave it away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m expected in the med bay,” and then hurried down the hall without waiting for his response.

Sentinel Prime drew closer until he stood beside Sideswipe. “What did he say to you?”

The red and black Autobot warrior continued to stare into the empty hallway after Groove. His reply was emotionless. “Nothing.”

Sentinel did not speak for a long moment. “Keep a close optic on him,” he said finally. Sideswipe turned to face him, his expression impassive, and held out a hand, his frame shuddering imperceptibly from the low concentration of nucleon in his fuel lines.

With a satisfied smirk, Sentinel handed him a vial of the green powder, and then watched him walk away in silence.

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Red Alert set the neuro link controller to the required input information, and then waited for Ratchet to give him the go ahead.

The Chief Medical Officer had not spoken since he’d started the procedure; he was intent on making sure that the timing was exact, watching and waiting for the readout on Groove’s monitor to display the right combination of signals. He was determined to make sure that Groove’s memory module would not overload this time. Finally, he gave a small nod in Red’s direction and, as the assistant medical officer carefully increased the sensory input information into Groove’s processor to the predetermined intensity level, Ratchet walked around the berth to sit beside the semi-conscious patient. “Groove, tell me if you can hear my voice.”

Groove stirred at the sound of the senior medic’s gravelly voice. “Uhh… hear you.”

“Good.” He briefly glanced across at Arcee, who was ready to do whatever was asked of her at a moment’s notice. “Now, I want you to go back to the night that you were attacked. You thought you were alone… it was dark outside. You said you saw three Neutrals. I want you to describe to me exactly what happened.” Ratchet kept an optic on the monitor readout as he continued to study the patient’s responses.

Groove’s expression turned into a grimace, but he seemed to maintain control. “I… I thought someone was following me. I… I think I panicked, reached for my weapon…” There was a long pause, as Groove struggled with the jumble of images and sounds that began to flood into his memory module. “They… they told me to put it away. That they weren’t going to hurt me.”

“Who, the Neutrals?” Ratchet asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Can you describe them for me?”

Groove took some time to respond. “They… look a lot bigger than I expected. Taller… one of them’s really tall.”

“Okay, good,” Ratchet said. “How are you feeling now?”

The Protectobot furrowed his brow, trying to find the right words. “Mmmh… I don’t like it. There’s something about them. Uhh… I don’t like them. Don’t want to be here.”

“This is only a memory. No one can hurt you anymore. Do you understand me?” Ratchet said with asserted authority in his voice. “Now, tell me what happened next.”

Groove inhaled deeply, his frame shuddering ever so slightly as he lay on the berth, but then he settled back into the memory. “They… they thought it was funny… that… that I had thought they were ‘Cons… Decepticons. One of them… he said… he said he wished… I was one.”

“One what? A Decepticon?” Ratchet prompted, a look of slight puzzlement on his face.

“Yeah.” Groove said nothing more for a long moment, and then continued. “One of them… he wanted to know… my name... I told him, Groove… and… asked… his.”

“Uh huh. That’s good. You’re doing really well.” The red and white Autobot medic inhaled deeply. “Keep going.”

Groove was so immersed in his memory experience that he was receiving sounds and images far more vividly now, and his frame reacted in response. He shook involuntarily, turning his head from side to side as if he were deeply troubled by the details of the reconstructed memory. “They… said they don’t have names… thought it was funny.” A slight pause as silence filled the room, before Groove resumed his verbal account. “They… thought they heard someone… nearby… but there isn’t anyone else around.”

“Good. Now, I want you to tell me…” Groove heard Ratchet say, but then the medic’s voice seemed to fade away into the background until all he could see and hear were those critical few moments that followed.

‘It’s not wise for any mech to be out all alone. Any of us would be forgiven for making the simple mistake of thinking that you were a ‘Con.’

Groove could clearly see the largest of the three Neutrals: the golden faction symbol emblazoned on his chest; the corners of his mouth curled into a snarl; his cold, yellow optics staring back at him.

‘You can’t touch me… I’m… I’m an Autobot. We’re supposed to be…’

But his words fell upon deaf audial receptors, and he found himself desperately wishing for his team mates.

‘Aw, don’t worry… this’ll be over before you know it!’

Then he felt the Neutral grabbing his arms, saw his two companions point their weapons at his head, and then the most excruciating pain that he had ever experienced hit him, as the Neutral began to rip his body apart, forcing open various access panels and tearing out several internal components without remorse. And, in those critical moments, when all he could do was wait for his system to mercifully shut down so that he would not have to feel the agony of his ordeal any longer, he came to a raw and cruel realization of the immeasurable, insurmountable evil that lurked behind the Neutral mask.

He screamed; an incredible, spark-piercing scream that threatened to swallow all who could hear it. Groove’s frame shuddered violently on the berth in response to the memory of his attack, forced to relive the last moments as he sought desperately to get away from his aggressors.

Then the pain and the memory of the assault began to fade, and he felt his consciousness pull away from the experience, his mind mercifully separating from the reality of it. He could no longer see his Neutral attackers, or the street where the horrendous attack had taken place, nor even the night sky above. The sounds of that terrible night faded also, until all he knew was a soothing blackness, and the peace that it brought him.

“Groove… Groove!” Another voice slowly came into focus. It was a feminine voice; he recognized it as Arcee’s.

“Disconnect the neuro link.” Ratchet’s voice nearby.

Then Arcee again. “Groove, can you hear me? Groove?” He felt her hand on his arm, gently shaking him, and he tried to speak.

“Uhh… Ar… cee.” Carefully, slowly, he brought his optics back online and allowed his vision time to readjust to the real world.

Arcee was leaning over him, while Red Alert watched him intently. He reached up a hand and grabbed Arcee by the wrist. “What happened?” he said.

The femme slowly sat down beside him. “You became non-responsive. Then you screamed out. We had to disconnect the neuro link,” she explained.

Ratchet stood on the other side of his berth looking down at him impassively. Then he spoke. “His stimulus response is stronger than I’d expected. We can try one more time, but I don’t want to risk it. I’m not sure how much more he can take.”

Groove tried to sit up, and was helped by Arcee. “No… Arcee… Ratchet,” he said, as he slowly began to recover from his frightening ordeal. “There’s no need to try again,” he explained, his air intakes overcompensating in an effort to rebalance his internal temperature. “I know what happened to me.”