Croix Insepency Chapter 11

PAR TERRE

Magnus on a shopping spree: Take everything that isn’t bolted to the floor.

Magnus on a shopping spree on a Quintesson space station: Take every that isn’t bolted down and everything else that is. If it’s rocky and dead, bring it along. If it’s slimy and dead, do not touch it. If it’s robotic and dead, apologize and move on. Six Autobot teams pilfered, inventoried, and emptied every room in the three known levels in science and medical. They looted every lab and all the Quintesson’s recycling areas. Magnus told them to wait until the last minute to plunder the hydroponics building.

“Still neither sign nor word from the Primes, Ultra Magnus,” Ambient reported. “We’re still searching for the Twins.” she waited while he scanned three pads containing updated reports from the Dancing Siren, the Frostbite and the Cold Refractor.

Magnus reread Captain Grotesque’s report. His writing style, to the point and frank, made Magnus miss Captain Helser’s more optimistic wording and the occasional joke on the side. She died well but Magnus wished she hadn’t.
Jazz cued onto Magnus’ personal comm line: “Mags, Man ya gotta come lookit this!”

Cloudstreaker tuned in immediately thereafter: “Commander, I found them! I found Sideswipe! But I am not registering Sunstreaker-“

Then came Perceptor’s voice: “Ultra Magnus, we just found something most astonishing! You MUST come IMMEDIATELY!”

Magnus bowed his head and wished the Primes would just pop up from nowhere and take on some of the work. His inner soldier scolded him for the momentary lapse into self pity and the Major-general straightened his posture. “Jazz, I am on the way. Cloudstreaker, assign Repugnus and Kup to the situation. Perceptor, I will join you momentarily.”

In spite of his slang, Jazz had not sounded so serious since their arrival on Bare Anches. “It’s way-uber massive, Mags. ‘Bout the size a’ all Florida.”

Magnus frowned. “Do you plan to show me what you’ve found?”

Cyclonus, whose busy fingers typed on the station’s main computer, paused to hit a switch. “That.”

Magnus gazed at the giant view screen displaying a vaguely familiar shape. He scrutinized it. “Can you enlarge?”

“Magnifying lens is jacked as high as it’ll go,” Jazz confirmed. “Whatever it is, it’s headed straight for us.”

“ETA?”

“Undetermined,” Cyclonus answered. He faced the Major-general. “We cannot get a clear reading. It scans mechanical but acts organic. It is not traveling along a straight path but it is definitely headed our way.”

“Hm.” Magnus headed for the exit. “Keep me informed. How goes the set up here?”

“Steady on the job.” Jazz turned from serious to grim. “Still zippo on the Primes an’ ol’ Galvatron. Howsomeever, Cloudstreaker sent me some a’ her r’cordings on a number of not-so-usual energy signals. An’ they ain’t the garden variety. Mailed ‘em off t’ Blaster an’ he couldn’t make no heads ‘r tails outta them.”

Cyclonus’ quiet tones followed Jazz: “I suggested submitting the frequencies to life sciences.”

Jazz bobbed his head, “yeah, the Cyc-man here turned genius into a new form a’ divinity. Tossed the r’cordings off t’ Tempra then t’ Halex.”

Cyclonus closed the story, “they’re electro-psionic energy signals.”

Magnus had to mentally chew through the term before asking his next question: “you mean it’s energy given off by psychics?”

“Badda-ping,” Jazz replied, quoting Repugnus.

“That can’t be possible,” Magnus objected, “all scans declared the base uninhabited except for the animals in the hydroponics building.”

Cyclonus shut the main viewer off. “Actually, there’s no telling how large the science station is. The Quintessons tend to hide secrets within secrets. Jazz wanted to interrogate Phayron-Zeta but knowing the Quintessons as I do, it is highly improbably and unlikely he will surrender information without a session in extreme torture.”

Perceptor’s impatience squealed over Magnus’ com and the Major-general struggled to keep a cool temper. “I’m needed elsewhere at the moment. But keep scanning this rock. And keep working on that tractor beam.” He stomped out, wishing for the billionth time there were two of himself.

Magnus followed a labyrinth of coordinates to the science station’s third level. Updates informed the Major-general that scouts encountered as many as seven levels below the science and medical building.

Level Three reluctantly opened to Magnus with sliding circular doors, rounded corners and spiraled ramps rather than staircases. This lower level displayed as pure a Quintesson architectural layout as Magnus ever saw it.

Arriving at the destination, Magnus entered a cavernous room, one of many throughout the complex. The only lighting radiated by means of six portable lamps. A crowded collection of Autobots swarmed with hyper activity. They shouted over one another, accepted assignments and barked orders. Assistants rushed supplies and trash back and forth. The bustling situation forced Magnus to park twenty feet from the center. He watched a moment and waited for techs and medics to handle the emergency then found First Aid.

“One more time,” the medic ordered. An electric charge bolted from a portable capacitor to a robot lying half buried in the flooring. The figure, denuded of color and transform shape, stared upward with half-lit optics; alive but incapacitated.

“Stop!” First Aid ordered. Everyone froze with strained anticipation.

“First Aid-“

”SHH!” First Aid refused Magnus’ oncoming question. He stared at the robot, framed in a stasis cube embedded in the floor; one of hundreds and hundreds along the floor, the walls, even the ceiling.

The unknown robot’s right hand twitched and Perigee squeaked. First Aid cut her off with a hush and the crowd waited another thirteen seconds when the same robot slowly panned its head right then left.

First Aid practically jumped. “YES!!!” he declared. The medic instantly rattled off a long line of orders and instructions and everyone around him scrambled as though their lives depended on their speed. Magnus approached Perceptor who swiftly and methodically repackaged the medical equipment.

“What’s going on? I received no news of this.”

Perceptor’s face glowed, ecstatic with their discovery. He wore a grin Magnus had not seen since...? “I know the probabilities are astronomical, Ultra Magnus. I know you and I should not have made this discovery! But it’s here, it’s real and...” his smile faded, his voice softened. “...and you have no idea what I’m talking about.” the Autobot scientist collected himself and calmed. “Two Earth hours ago we received a series of inconsistent signals. At first Blue thought they were a glitch from one of the ships-er-the Dancing Siren, to be precise. We tracked them but not to any of our ships. We scanned the base’s communications center and found nothing there, either. The first level-“

”Perceptor,” Magnus interrupted impatiently. “Wednesday is in two days from now.”

He smiled, realizing Magnus was not interested in previous details. “The signals entailed energy life frequencies. I failed to recognize them at first due to preoccupational entanglement. During a short break I turned my attention to the incoming data and recognized the signs... Wheeljack’s life signs, Ultra Magnus!”

“WHAT?” that registered for Magnus exactly as Perceptor described: an astronomical probability. Not simply because it was Wheeljack, but because of Bumblebee’s return, albeit from another reality. The odds of such a thing... Magnus didn’t dare to wrap his processor around it. His optics lost focus, his processor drew a complete blank.

Perceptor shouldered the bag of supplies over his left and hefted a box of tools under his right arm. “We’ll keep you informed, Commander,” he promised.

Magnus watched the scientist depart with a musical hum in his vocalizer and a lighter step in his stride. “Why does stuff like this always happen on my watch?” he asked himself.

******

Rusti lay quiet, too comfortable on the bed for motivation. Voices milled around her like an ant colony. She stared at the ceiling but focused strictly on the sound. Millions of millions and millions of millions of voices; a mental traffic jam. She weeded through the ‘static’ and eliminated all the background chatter. Her head listened to the Razor Lady and the Hanibal’s Mark. Cloudstreaker and Quasar labored tirelessly to remove the science station’s tractor beam. Rusti had no doubt they’d find a way to release the ships. But her concern lay in whether or not the Autobots could escape without abandoning Optimus and Rodimus. I will stay behind, too, she decided.

Her mind drifted to the grey shades of sleep. A picture faded into focus: A door slid open. No, a huge door, tall as Skyfire and marked with a Quintesson seal of limited access. The door, locked for ages unknown, now clanged on its tracks.

BREACH ON LEVEL... BREACH ON LEVEL... BREACH... BREACH... Only Rusti heard the space station’s signal. Creatures bellowed with outrage in the walls and dark places...

She sat up with a gasp and clutched the grey blanket. How many Quintessons lived here?

Someone unveiled a dead baby.

Stop! Rusti clutched her head. Where did the images come from? What was with her head? Disjointed images zoomed in and out of focus: a black wall; a great hall filled with dead infants; hundreds of eyes. The young woman did not realize she softly growled, frustrated by the mental traffic overcrowding her head. She scratched her dry skin and spotted a nurse passing someone else’s bed. “Excuse me,” Rusti called. The weary nurse sighed, paused and peered at Rusti with raised brows. “May I please have some hand lotion?”

Oddly, the nurse’s eyes laid on Rusti’s arms and neck. She curtly nodded with a light smile and retreated.

A familiar shape peered round the privacy divider and Rusti recognized Trevor. He batted his eyes in silent greeting as the nurse returned. She heedlessly passed through him and handed Rusti a small tube of lotion. Rusti thanked the lady as who swiftly disappeared. The lotion relieved the flaking discomfort on her lower and upper arms, neck and legs.

Rusti applied the thick white lotion to her cheeks and forehead. “You know,” she said to her invisible friend, “I really should not speak to you here. It’s kinda dangerous.”

“I wanted to be sure you were all right,” Trevor replied. I wanted to come sooner, but I had other things to attend.”

Rusti raised her brows. “What? You mean you can’t multitask?”

“The situation required a lot of attention. At the moment, your friends here are about to have worse problems than missing Primes.”

Capping the lotion, Rusti visually searched the cubicle for her clothes. “The Autobots do not need me. That means I can go looking for Optimus and Galvatron... do you think they might be together?”

“Who are you talking to, Dear?”

Rusti’s whole frame froze and her eyes went wide. The last thing she wanted was some condescending bitch paying her a visit. Trevor stepped aside as Delta knelt at the doorway. He scrutinized her up and down as she talked.

“They were all-we were all worried about you, Rusti, Darling. Are you quite alright?”

Trevor scrunched his face with dislike. “Don’t listen to her candy-talk, Rusti; you’ll gain weight.”

Rusti lifted her eyes to the lights to keep from laughing. “I’m good, Delta, thank you.”

The Paratron femme nodded. “I heard you talking about Optimus to someone.”

Trevor squinted his eyes. “There’s something off about her.”

Rusti tried to ignore him. “I was... telling myself how much I miss him and that I hope he’s okay.”

Delta settled on the floor and folded her legs. Trevor threw his arms up and took a spot closer to Rusti. “For crying out loud!” the psychic projection declared. “How about you just get a bed, you stupid robot, and move in! This is clearly a breach in decorum!”

Rusti blinked at the word ‘breach’ and tried to school her expression into neutral. She did not like how Delta smiled at her.

“Oh, I am ever so certain the fearless, unequivocal Optimus Prime is doing just fine.” Delta lowered her voice to a purr. “After all, he’s not the leader because he’s either weak or stupid.”

“What’s she talking about?” Trevor voiced Rusti’s own suspicions. Rather than answer either of them, Rusti reached for a cup of water.

“So tell me,” Delta continued. “How well do you know Optimus Prime? I’m sure you’ve known him for several years. But um, I’m sure you’ve found that he’s... complicating.”

Trevor glanced from Delta to Rusti. “They grow them big on Cybertron, don’t they?”

Rusti choked and sputtered water, plucked a tissue and ignored Delta’s twittering words of concern. “I’m fine,” she assured the Paratron. “It’s good. I’m good.”

Delta waited for the young lady to settle down before striking the conversation anew: “You know, Optimus and I were... an item at one point.” the femme raised her optics wistfully. “The talk of the town, as the saying goes,” she added.
“I see,” Rusti answered evenly. “No, I was not aware you and he were... close.”

Delta tilted her head like a child struggling to think. “I knew him in the quiet time on Earth. No wars between us and the Decepticons. The Quintessons, naturally, attempted to subvert the status quo. I first fell for Optimus when he and Ultra Magnus sparred, teaching younger Paratrons hand-to-hand defensive. I have found that Magnus is very much by-the-book. But Optimus...” the femme chuckled devilishly. “...he makes his own. I even heard Ultra Magnus tell him to rewrite one particular move. Optimus can indeed be subtle.”

Rusti did not know what to say to that. Not that it bothered her so much that Optimus had a relationship with someone else. She did wonder, however, why they broke up. “How long did your relationship last?”

“You want a clue about him, Darling? Let me tell you a few things.”

Trevor narrowed his eyes on the femme. “Maybe you shouldn’t listen to this, Rusti. I mean, not that I’m an expert or anything. But I just don’t like her.”

“Optimus has a habit of keeping secrets,” Delta announced. Her voice made Rusti think of a gossiping, prissy broad in a beauty salon, attended to hand-and-foot like some low-life version of a prima donna. “And sometimes those secrets entail the truth of how he actually feels about a person. See, Optimus is all about diplomacy; how to use people or steer them in such a way as to benefit him or whatever plans he has in mind. I’ve watched him, you know. He does it with almost everyone. And usually, the... tool is not even aware of it.”

Rusti rubbed an upper right-side molar with her tongue. “Uh, hu. Well... It’s not been my experience, Delta. And I’ve known him all my life.”

“You are so precious!” Delta cooed. “You have this wonderful, refreshing sense of the naive. I love how you withhold judgment of people, giving them the benefit of a doubt. We are going to be such good friends, you and me!”

Rusti forced her eyes to keep from rolling. The last thing she wanted was to piss off something twenty feet higher than herself. She cleared her throat and chose to steer the conversation off her Optimus and onto the robo-chic’s own ego. “So... uh, did you find someone better than Optimus?”

Delta sighed. “How can you get any better than Optimus?” she laughed. “Your silence says it all, Darling! Of course I have not found another love!” she winked and Rusti wished the irritating freakish femme would find someone else to befriend. “However, Delta continued, “if -or when- you find that Optimus is not your type, let me know. I’d be happy to take over.”

“Riiight,” Rusti grunted. “So, what do you do, now? I mean, I’m sure you have extra time on your hands.”

“Ah! You’re actually asking why we broke up, aren’t you? You’re so clever!”

Trevor smacked his palm in his face for Rusti.

Rusti scrambled to invent an excuse to leave. But under a doctor’s care, escape meant rescue. She wondered about the consequences of rudeness and just tell the femme off.

“He broke up with me,” Delta finally answered. “He said we were no longer compatible, that the Autobots came first and that was that. At least he kept the break-up simple. I think it was very... gentlemanly.” Delta offered a condescending smile that turned Rusti’s stomach. If only she were an Autobot herself. A fine punch to the ol factory might look good on the offensive robo-broad.

“You know, another thing about Optimus is that sometimes he fails to keep his promises. There’s always something or someone or some event... it was a little frustrating at times.”

“He’s an Autobot leader,” Rusti defended. “Naturally he can’t always do and be what he chooses. The Autobots have to come first. I’m surprised you held that against him.”

“Oh, I didn’t!” Delta objected. “Not on your life! I understood very well, that his responsibilities came first. Most certainly! But sometimes, even when all was said and done, he’d forget. I remember once he asked Ultra Magnus to take me out to the ballet.” Delta sighed long and sadly. “Magnus means well, my Dear, but Optimus and romantic he is not.”

Rusti smiled lightly. “I’m guessing he never recited poetry to you.” Delta clammed up and her optics darkened slightly. Rusti considered her underhanded mockery a score.

Apogee peered into Rusti’s doorway, glanced at the young woman then to her robotic visitor. “Excuse me, I’m sorry for interrupting,” her voice sounded firmer than her words, “visitor’s hours are over. You can come back tomorrow.”

Delta stood and plastered a thin smile over her face. “Yes, of course. Young Rusti and I were just chatting. Good night, Dear,” Robo-chic left and Rusti silently mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Apogee.

“Sleep,” the medic assistant ordered. And she doused the lights.

******

Kup privately bemoaned his predicament. He wanted to find Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. But dragging the Dinobots along? Really? He strongly disliked Repugnus’ idea of ‘packing the pooch’ (his words) for the trip. Fort Max’s former security officer held his impatience in check as Smasher, Swoop and Slag chatted between themselves like excited children. Repugnus added an occasional comment, especially regarding activities among the refugees.
Kup focused on the readout and map given him by Cloudstreaker. He said nothing about the strange readings that zagged across his scanner, crazy energy signals, crossing wavelengths and at one point, a faint noise. Kup kept his mouth shut about the odd scans. The Dinobots needed to focus on the surroundings, not the Vertical Horizon’s captain’s suspicions.

Descending from Level Two to Level Three, canyon-side of the medical and science facility, Kup led Repugnus, the Dinobots, Jacket and Arcee down three cases of stairs. Repugnus assigned Swoop to fly ahead. Smasher maneuvered ahead of Kup, Slag walked with Repugnus, Arcee and Jacket covered their backs.

“This is so atypical of Quintesson design,” Jacket said for the third time. “I can’t imagine why they’d bother with stairwells or right-angles.”

“Not built for them,” Repugnus grunted.

“Then who, then?”

Before Kup or Repugnus made a guess, Swoop flew up and transformed at the next landing. “Me, Swoop, find floor. Find ghosts.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Kup answered firmly. “Stay there, Swoop, we’re comin’.” He and Smasher quickened their pace while the rest of the team held back by a few stairs. Smasher tapped down the steps like an eager dog then jumped off the last ten, twisted in the air and transformed before landing.

Swoop smiled. “Me call you ‘show off’,” he said. They were the last words spoken once the rest of the team found their way to the floor. Arcee gasped and took two steps closer to Jacket. Jacket handed the emergency med kit to the femme and drew his weapon. The search party scanned their new, partly-lit grisly environment with horror and trepidation. The walls, once smooth and clean, now reflected someone’s unhindered wrath; warped, pasted with dried blood and burned as if someone used a torch to redecorate the hall. Deep gouges sliced grotesque faces of disfigured aliens. Glowing graffiti lit the walls, the ceiling, the floor in too many different languages. In spite of his foreboding, Kup took leadership and led the group left. His scanner picked up varying forms of radiation, not from the lighting, as he expected, but from the graffiti. The floor finish blistered and peeled so that the corridor looked as if it suffered from leprosy.
Arcee shied from the drawings and kept her eyes forward, off the floor. Suppressing the urge to wrap her arms about herself, she strung the med kit’s long strap over her shoulder and kept step between Swoop and Slag. But the glowing graffiti forced her optics to drift one side then the other. Ghastly sequential drawings depicted Quintessons torturing people, operating on creatures or raping their victims. Some scenes came with captions in indecipherable letters.

“ARCEE!”

She flinched and glanced back at Jacket. “What?”

”What?” he repeated.

“You said something.”

“No, haven’t said a thing.”

Kup paused, forcing the group to copy. The old warrior acquired closer scans of a seven-fingered hand protruding from the wall as if sculpted. The giant appendage appeared frozen in time, its fingers gnarled with pained and broken joints. Stranger still, a gross and terrible wound festered with live infection at its center. A pile of light grey mass accumulated on the floor below the hand and it stank.

“I don’t get it,” Kup muttered. He scanned the hand twice more before Jacket stepped up and gave it a try. Kup watched, expecting better results.

Jacket read his scanner then winced with confusion. “Not reading anything. Just the wall.”

“Yeah,” Kup concurred, “it might be radiation, ‘cept there’s not enough here t’ spoil Rusti’s dinner.”

Jacket made some remark about checking in with Cloudstreaker and confirm the radiation levels. As he made contact, the skitter-patter of feet raced along the floor, drawing Arcee’s attention to the left. She did not recall seeing the adjacent corridor a moment ago. But then, Slag’s oversized bulk might have obstructed her view. She surreptitiously peered around the Dinobot’s bulky form while the group pressed forward.

The dark corridor’s gaping mouth lured her curiosity when a speck of light moved right to left. Repugnus said something, his voice obscured into the background. All Arcee saw and heard focused on the skitter as it closed the distance between it and she. The femme took five steps back to ensure herself it was real. Glancing right, Arcee watched her companions pause at another oddity protruding from a door. She detached a flashlight from the med kit and cast its light into the silent abyss. Don’t go there, part of her warned, there’s nothing to be found.

Arcee stretched forth her left hand and half expected to find nothing, half expected to get sucked into the dark. Instead, lights shot on; click, click, click all the way down the hall. She flinched when she spotted the small humanoid figure at the farthest end of the sterile, empty hall. It raced from one wall to the other in a zig-zag pattern. Arcee swore she recognized the shape. She did not want to say it; did not want to believe her optics.

“Daniel?” the name escaped her vocalizer as if it were verboten. “No.” she toed back to catch up with the others. But the bright, clean hallway now stretched both sides; left and right. She softly gasped and ran sixteen scenarios through her logic centers.

She was dreaming. hallucinating, unconscious, injured and overheating-

“Arcee.”

“No!” she denied. “It’s an illusion! Kup!” she called, “Jacket!” the femme raced to the right, hoping to find her way out of the ‘rabbit hole’.

“Arcee...”

“No! No! It’s the Virus!” she spun about, now directionally confused. Left? Right? Left? Right? Le-

“Huh!! Rodimus!” she almost rammed into his chest.

He smiled down and laid hands on her upper arms. “It’s good to see you, Arcee.”

“No, you can’t be here! You’re missing.”

Rodimus smiled, unconcerned. “Do you know what your problem is, Arcee?” Her lip components trembled. Fear swallowed her voice. She stole two more steps backward.

Rodimus took two steps forward. “You can’t let go,” he answered, “you hang on to people. You hang onto situations, fearful of change. I know you know that I know how you feel about Daniel. You love him, you hate him. You care about the boy and despise the man. But you can’t let go of the boy and move on, move forward.”

Arcee found her voice, though it trembled with frayed nerves. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she backed further from him, “y-you’re missing, Rodimus. No one knows where you are.”

The lights dimmed and churned into a burnt orange color. One minute Rodimus was there, the next it was Daniel; same height, different face. “Oh, Arcee... so easy to toy with.”

Seconds passed before Arcee finally rediscovered her voice. “Kup!” she called again.

“Don’t bother,” Daniel advanced, stalking the flooring exactly as he used to. “You and me, Bitch. It’s always been that way. And YOU! You betrayed me!”

“No,” she denied. “Yes! Yes, I did. Yes, I did.” Arcee backed from his advance; a dance moving in one direction. “I grew tired of you and your two-facedness, Daniel. I grew tired of your hatred and self-pity and all the horrible things you’d say about your daughters.” Arcee despised the tremble in her voice, how pitifully weak and vulnerable she sounded. But resolute, the femme pushed her fear aside. “The only way to break free was to betray you. There. I said it. Satisfied?”

A crushing right hook sent Arcee hard into the wall beside her. She dropped and tried to angle her body so she did not land on the med kit. The femme forced herself to her knees. “It’s not real,” she whispered. “Not real, not real.”

“Why can’t it be?” Daniel shadowed over her, blocking the ceiling lights.

“Because you’re a human. You are not that tall, that powerful.”

“But you fear me, Arcee. I am the beast disguised as a little boy. I am the curse you took on willingly. I confuse you. I, not much larger than a doll, have complete emotional control over you. You’re WEAK! You deserve no pity, no happiness and no life-and you know it. You’ve convinced yourself that by betraying me, by cutting the connection, you’ve condemned me to a life of solitude and irrationality. All the while I feel nothing but hatred and resentment toward you-“

”Stop!” Arcee cried. “Shut up! You have no right to talk to me like that-“

”But you ALLOW me to, anyway, Arcee, you little smeltwad. Physically and rationally, you see me as the little man that I am. But emotionally, I am just as tall and frightening as I am now. And I will beat you down, little smeltwad. I will conquer you with words and fear. I will devour you one miserable slice at a time-“

”KUP!” Arcee screamed. “KUP! JACKET!”

Daniel laughed. “They can’t hear you. You’re gone, Arcee. Gone and mine. So strip off your armor, little femme. Or, I can do it for you-“

A merciful blackness ripped into the reality holding Arcee captive. For the blink of a microsecond, Arcee swore she saw Rodimus’ hand rip away the sterile environment, shredding Daniel’s image like a paper doll.

“Arcee... Arcee...”

She woke with a start, her whole body jerked, her laser core skipped a vibration. “NO! Rodimus!”

Jacket gripped her upper arms, “ARCEE! You’re alright. Passed out cold, girl. You’re still with us.”

Her laser core vibrated hard against her chest as she sat up. “What happened to me?”

Kup turned his scanner. A color bar rising from yellow to bright blue shifted from low to high. “You’ve been psychically attacked.”

The femme gripped her head. “It was so real...” her optics, resting upward at Kup, focused behind him. A body dangled from a chain. Arcee, who always prided herself as a femme with nerve conduits of titanium, now wished she stayed on the Vertical Horizon.

Kup traced her line of sight to the long-since-dead alien dangling from a rusted chain. “Yeah,” he grunted. “Just like that hand protruding from the wall several yards back; we see ‘em but they don’t register on the scanners.”

Jacket helped Arcee to her feet. She could not take her optics off the macabre sight. “So, it’s just an optical illusion?”

Repugnus pushed the ‘illusion’ and it swung back and forth. The chain jittered and creaked against the metal beam. “Don’t think illusions do that.”

This time Arcee wrapped her arms about herself. “Primus, what is this place?”

“Beep, beeep, beepbeepbeeep” Kup’s scanner called their attention back to their assignment. He faced forward, snapped his fingers and silently ordered Swoop to fly ahead. The group trailed and passed one burnt and scarred door after another. Arcee caught a name plate on one such door: MERDIAN. Sprayed in red (or blood, maybe) CROIX INSEPENCY.

She turned away and wished she never heard that phrase.

Kup abruptly halted and Arcee nearly ran into him. “Oh, Primus,” he swore. Jacket did too and rounded in front of the group. Arcee gasped when Sideswipe’s battered, leaking form came into view. Jacket aided Sunny’s brother to his feet and the group surrounded him.

“No, no,” the Twin rasped. “You have to go... you have to find m’ brother. You have-“ he sank to his knees, too weak to speak further.

Arcee knelt before him as Jacket drew his weapon. I’ll go ahead,” he volunteered. “Slag?” The Dinobot made a fist and silently followed the Paratron warrior.

Arcee watched the two mechs disappear into the hall’s darker end until Sideswipe sobbed, grieving for his lost brother. “Sh, sh, sh.” She tried to comfort him with arms and soft noises.

Jacket and Slag entered a darker world. The air, chilly and stale, carried the unmistakable scent of burnt circuitry, melted wiring and the bitter-sweet of plasma fire. Slag halted and glanced around them. Something tingled his senses, stronger than a Predicon, stronger than the changing weather patterns on Earth. “Stop,” he called to Jacket. “Me, Slag-“

”Yeah. I smell it, too,” the Paratron answered cooly. “Might be the Twins were fighting and hit some-oof!” Jacket’s dark feline form whooshed past Slag and smacked the far-off wall.

The Dinobot silently signaled Repugnus and stepped back, one foot at a time. A shaft of light shot from Slag’s right and revealed a biped, alien female clothed in silk and iridescent robes. Her head, devoid of a single strand of hair, wore tattoos with similar glyphs as Slag noticed on the hallway walls. Her eyes, black as demon’s, held steadfast on the Dinobot as she approached.

In spite of her size, Slag trembled with terror.

****

Rusti shot up from sleep. A blanket of white descended in her mind, wiping clean all dreams and thoughts except for Bare Anches. “Choth! Choth! Ime pyr croix insepency!” she shouted. “CROIX INSEPENCY!”

Apogee rushed down the isle to calm the girl. She gently pushed Rusti down and covered her. But Rusti shot up again, her eyes focused on nothing.

“CROIX INSEPENCY!” she shouted.

Doctor Zornoy rushed in, hypo in hand. “What is going on?”

Apogee shook her head. “She just started shouting, Doctor-“

”Hold her down!”

Rusti squirmed, grit her teeth and kicked under the blankets. “IMEEEEE!” she struggled against Zornoy with all her strength while he tried to sedate her. “CROIX! CROIX!” she screamed then her eyes turned blue and glared at the doctor. “All of your power and your might and your science cannot contain the SOUL, DOCTOR! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! YOU TREAD ON SOURED GROUND, THE VERY PLACE WHERE A UNIVERSE WAS BORN AND THE RANDUTH ALVEEM COMMITTED A HEINOUS ACT AGAINST GOD. CROIX INSEPENCY is NOT epic failure, but success to the point of eternal damnation. Their failure: adamant, blind arrogance from which they cannot be saved!”

Shaken straight to his core, Zornoy took a single step backward. He forgot to breathe. He almost dropped the hypo. His jaw opened and closed but words failed him until his heart slowed enough to allow a thought through. “Y-you... you’re the Matrix.”

Rusti roll to her hands and knees, blue eyes bright with power. “Ime pyr croix insepency!”

******

The alien female continued to advance on Slag. “Ime pyr croix insepency,” miles away, she echoed Rusti. Halting mid-stride her gaze shifted from the Dinobot to the Monsterbot. The female pointed a finger at Repugnus. “Egtago nahtooth.”

Repugnus transformed into Monster mode and remained still. “Back away, Fido,” he said quietly. “She’s not after you.”

“Me, Slag not know-“

”Heel, Fido” Repugnus did not raise his voice. He and Slag backed away and to the right. The female walked past them with one eye trained on the giant robots.

Arcee attended Sideswipe’s wounds while Kup tried to contact Cloudstreaker, Blaster and Ambient. No one answered but Kup kept at it. He supposed one of the Dinobots could carry Sideswipe to the top. But Sunny’s brother was in bad, bad shape. Moving him might worsen his injuries.

Arcee gently wrapped Sideswipe’s damaged helm. He suffered so many wounds Arcee did not think she had enough patches to stave off his blood loss. Sideswipe did not move, did not respond to any stimulus. His optics, dimmed with pain and exhaustion, stared into nothing.

The cracking sound of electricity shot through Arcee’s head. She cried out, held her helm and landed on her back. She heard nothing as the world and her companions moved in slow motion. Her movements came sluggish and the femme’s consciousness tumbled into a dark corner in her mind.

Kup ran to her the second Arcee flopped backwards. She squirmed for several seconds then lay still. A humanoid figure emerged from the dark hall, followed by Slag and Repugnus. The alien glowed with a purity Kup swore he’d never seen before. He moved to grasp Arcee when the alien female raised her hand.

Arcee sat up and stared at the bald female. Her mouth opened and closed several times before a sound came from her vocalizer: “Do not be alarmed. I am come to communicate.”

“Arcee?” Kup asked, uncertain.

“No,” the femme answered mechanically. “I am Wolfen Tagmar. I communicate to you via the robotic female’s vocalizer and language structure."

The whine of a charging nega-ion blaster diverted the conversation. “Let her go,” Jacket ordered sternly.

Arcee slowly turned her head, optics dim, face expressionless. “I do not need to see to know where you are, Autobot. I mean the femme no harm. Of the group, she was the most emotionally distressed and therefore, more easily accommodated.”

Kup put his weapon away, but retained his scanner. “What do you want from us? Who are you?”

“I will speak to your leaders. I am Wolfen Tagmar, the lead psychic on Bare Anches. Did you not receive our message regarding the science station? Were you not warned to refrain from approach?”

Jacket lowered his weapon but remained on guard. “We were taken in by tractor beam.”

Arcee’s cold optics settled on him. “I will speak to your leaders. Now.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” Kup objected. “Not ‘till we find Sunny.” He winced when Arcee faced him; like facing a doll.

“The robotic life form you designate as ‘Sunny’ does not exist.”

Her heartless statement elicited a cry from Sideswipe. Jacket dropped to the twin’s side to keep him still. But Sideswipe, so lost and devastated, would not be calm. “You claim he’s dead and you’ve not seen him! How can you be so sure?I won’t give up! I won’t let you say-“

”You hope in vain, Cybertronian,” Wolfen/Arcee answered firmly. “Life and the universe do not work according to your demands and unrealistic expectations.” she turned to Kup once more. “We will talk with your leaders. NOW.”

“NNNNNGGGGAAAAAAAHHHH!!” the insentient scream came as a blast of frigid air; the sound of life devoid of soul, of conscious, of rational mentality. Only Slag and Smasher stood their ground. The other Autobots-and the psychic-all drew back as an unrecognizable robotic thing ran toward them on all fours. It squealed and leapt from floor to wall, dodging the glowing graffiti, the protruding body parts and all Quintesson depictions.

Jacket fired at it and either he missed the target or hit with no effect. “What is that?” he exclaimed as it slowed its approach. A long forked tongue hung out its mouth. Its head, misshapen and damaged, resembled Sunny’s temporary tinker-toy helm. But the face plate hung open, armed with two rows of metal teeth. Arms and legs no longer ended in hands and feet; just daggers that pierced the floor and wall at every step.

Before Kup ordered a retreat, a spindly black shape emerged from a crevice in the ceiling. Jacket held his gun with both hands to stop himself from shaking. Kup backed further away and this time, Slag and Smasher did the same. The black shape dropped to the floor, rearranged itself into the Virus and stared at the group. Its left foreleg tapped the flooring as if the thing tried to make up its mind.

Kup waved his hand back, back, “just keep moving,” he ordered quietly. “Keep it slow. Just... back away.”

He held Firebolt with an iron grip until the Nebulon Targetmaster extracted himself from the Autobot’s hand. He remained in gun mode, floating at Kup’s eye level. “I got this,” he said, “Go. I’ll catch up.”

“Nah-uh,” Kup objected. “Not leavin’ anyone down-“

Firebolt swung about, barrel-side pointed between Kup’s optics. “Not arguing! Go!”

Kup hesitated long enough to watch Void bite a chunk off Sunstreaker’s shoulder. If that thing was Sunny at all, he did not react; he felt nothing. Void bit off a second chunk and crunched the metal between its jaws.
Unable to watch anything further, Kup fled back to the stairs.


*****

Rusti sat in the dark. Her hand fisted around her ring; the only thing that gave her comfort and hope. Sleep abandoned her hours ago so she sat and listened to everything from cackling medical assistants to crying children. She heard an off-handed report of three more women who came to the ward, complaining of itching, widespread rashes and sensitivity to light.

Rusti frowned. Must be something in the air. After all, they were on an abandoned science station that served a number of purposes and incurred an unknown number of visitors.

She bowed her head and wracked her brain. Where, where, where were Optimus, Roddi and Galvatron? She hoped Magnus might have heard something. With a heaving sigh, Rusti squirmed under her covers. Several hours ago, Dr. Zornoy interrogated her with questions to which she had no answers. Her head drew a hard blank. She couldn’t even remember why they laid her up in medbay on... which ship? Which ship was she on? Why did Dr. Zornoy act like she’d turn demonic?

Rusti batted her eyes open. Her head churned questions into insomnia.

Croix insepency... success to the point of eternal damnation.

With a growl, the young lady shoved the covers off, sat up and tried to decide what to do with herself.

“See, Optimus is all about diplomacy,” Delta’s words rang from the back of her head. “he looks for ways in how to use people ...to benefit him ... He does it with everyone. And usually, the... tool is not even aware of it.”

Rusti smacked her head. Stop it! “That’s it,” she stood and searched the cubicle for her clothes. “I am SO out of here.”

There’s something off about her.

Trevor’ words woke something in her. Why would he say something like that? Not that Rusti knew him well enough to discern much of his character. But the base’s psychic projection made no qualms how he felt about the femme.
The dark image of a creature eating a robotic quadruped blinked through her head. She batted her eyes against it, now imprinted in her brain. Rusti swore, slipped off the bed and searched high and low for her clothes. Not under the bed, not in the light stand drawer...

She blew a stray strand of hair off her nose. Where am I? She tried to distinguish in which ship they dumped her.

SAGITTARIAN MOZART, came the reply.

Rusti furrowed her brows. Magnus’ ship? “Oh-kay. So where are my clothes? There’s no way in hell I’m going out there without underwear.”

A familiar voice reached Rusti’s ears: “do you know if she’s awake yet? I’d love to see her...”

Rusti swore again. She did NOT want another visit from Delta. Screw the underclothes! Rusti spotted a drawer at the foot of her bed and opened it.

Exosuit: check. Oversized shirt: check. Tattered jeans: check. Shoes... nope. Underwear? She rifled through the drawer, through all the clothing two and three times.

“Oh, God, please don’t tell me they sent both my underwear AND my bra to laundry!” defeated, she hung her head. This was the price she paid for sneaking off AMA. Rusti swiftly dressed, anyway. She’d get fresh underclothes on the Crested Moon.

Robotic footsteps approached her side of medbay. Escaping out the door lost its option. Think! Rusti turned to the farthest wall in the cubicle. “Please!” she begged the ship, “please let me out through here! I know you can!” her mouth ran dry as the footsteps sounded but one cubicle away. The wall yawned open for her. Rusti slipped through then leaned against the closure just as Delta called her name.

“Ohmigoodness! Where did she go? Ruuusti, Darling! Are you in the restroom?”

Rusti held her breath and hoped Delta did not scan the walls. Wait. Wait. She released her breath then dragged in fresher air. “How far is the Crested Moon from here?”

The Mozart did not answer right away. The ship currently communicated with something-or someone-else. Rusti thought it odd. “Who ‘r you talking to?”

At first the Sagittarian Mozart did not reply. Rusti waited until she heard THATSELF WHO RESIDES ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GATEWAY.

Rusti blinked. “Thatself? Is that the name?”

Yet again the ship delayed its response. Rusti had no idea the ships had the ability to communicate with people other than one another and her. THE ENTITY DECLARES ITSELF SENTIENT.

A chill ran through Rusti’s veins. How many other surprises and secrets did the science station hold? “Um, would you ask it if it knows where I can find Optimus Prime?” she waited another three minutes.

YOU MUST SPEAK WITH THE ENTITY. IT CANNOT SPEAK WITH YOU HERE.

“Where will I find it?” the split second she ended her sentence, Rusti’s mind burned with turbulent flashes of images; hallways, entrances and door signs. With an inward hiss she clawed at her skull and stumbled back. Her nose burned and tears washed her face. As fast as the images hit, they stopped. The abrupt ending weakened her legs and the young lady dropped to her knees. Personal rule #1: Never take Aunt Delphra at her word. Rule #2: Always let Optimus speak first when he’s brooding. Rule #3: Never pick a conversation with an unknown entity. Naturally she had other rules, especially regarding Rodimus. But her aching head thought no further than the moment.

Gradually the pain decreased and her head cleared. Rusti wiped her eyes and cheeks with the backs of her hands; a corner of her shirt to wipe her nose. She rested against the wall and conjured ideas for her next move. First: underclothes. Second: something to eat. Third, ask Steeljaw to accompany her.

A twenty-minute walk from the Mozart to the Crested Moon left Rusti winded. She was in no-wise out of shape, so why was she out of breath? Her answer came in memory of her recent meeting with the Virus. It licked her-Rusti flinched with the memory: it drained her of strength, thought and hope. She’d almost dare to compare it to a form of rape. The Virus stole something from her, though Rusti could not name it. It left her empty, as if someone drilled a hole into her soul.

Walking up the Moon’s plank entrance, Rusti slumped against the jamb and waited for her heart to settle. That Virus, she decided, was going to die here. If she had anything at all to say or do about it, Void was going to be unalive before they left the God-forsaken science station.

Two Autobots in their alternate modes, Fission and Lockout, drove up, transformed and stepped onto the plank. Fission joked on about a game he played then he stopped talking abruptly when the two mechs crossed visual contact with Rusti. They moved to the other side of the plank entrance and Lockout, who walked alongside Fission, now walked behind him, avoiding her as if she carried a disease.

Rusti said nothing. Confusion caused her brows to scrunch. Shaking off the odd moment, she made a beeline for hers and Optimus’ private quarters. Thirty seconds after closing the door, Rusti spontaneously chose to take a shower. Before redressing, she smeared on a layer of lotion. It was then she noticed several small red blotches on her shins. She swore and added more lotion. Then it dawned on her: maybe her exosuit irritated her skin.

No... it never irritated her before, even when Trinket repaired it, the suit never gave her so much as a sweat. Although, now that she thought on it further, she did not always have the liberty to take a shower... Moving on, she dressed with a fresher shirt- again something borrowed from someone else in camp. With her shoes on and a morsel of toast, eggs and dried fruit, Rusti left the Crested Moon before formulating a plan for her next move.

“Rusti? Rusti, can you hear me?”

She blinked. “Ultra Magnus? I hear you but it’s all static-y. What’s wrong with the comlines?”

“...orry... few glitches... aster’s working. ...eed you to come to the central comm building.”

“What?” She demanded. “I want to look for Optimus and Roddi. I’m no help to you-“

”Y... are the only person... signature matches the Matrix...” his voice faded in and out of clarity and the young lady glanced around to see if anyone else struggled with communications.

When she noticed Velocity tapped her left audio receptor, Rusti took assurance she was not alone. “No, Ultra Magnus,” she answered the Major-general in as respectful a tone as possible. “I-I’d come. Seriously. But I don’t want to be anywhere near that freak Quintesson.”

“Need you... here.”

Oh come on, she thought, that’s the last place I want to be! “Can’t I take a raincheck?” she negotiated.

Again static flooded the comlines and Magnus’ voice fizzed: “Matrix... life force... frequency.”

“Pffffp. Figures,” she grunted wearily. “Fine. Lemme find a ride.”


Central Communications sat a mile and a half from the Crested Moon. Autobots and EDC personnel crowded the lane between the ships and the street between science and medical and the Hannibal’s Mark, the Vertical Horizon and the Interrogator. Sludge forced everyone to one side or the other as he lumbered along the center, towing a flatbed burdened with large reversible partitions. No sooner did Sludge pass the Crested Moon than Rusti spotted Delta in hover-car mode. The robo-femme glided one way then another; Rusti realized the Paratron was using her internal scanners.

Crap! The young lady thought. Do I come equipped with jamming capability? I do not. She spotted the Mozart a hundred yards out. Perhaps if she kept in step with Sludge... She gave it a valiant try but even playing Dinobot football, she never did outrun her playmates. Her feet pounded four yards off the tarmac while she hoped to catch up with Sludge and hitch a ride. In spite of encroaching exhaustion, Rusti pushed six more from her reserves before pain sliced up her legs and beaded along her arms. Her heart threatened to explode. Rusti stopped and dropped, heaving for breath so hard, her head spun.

“Rusti! There you are, Darling!”

Rusti growled. Crappy timing. Stupid body! She cringed when the femme caught up with her and transformed.

“Rusti! I’ve been all over looking for you! Are you alright? My goodness, did you fall?”

The breath she took induced violent coughing. Rusti raised her hand to ward the femme off. Cough, wheeze, cough, cough, cough. “... clumsy.” her lungs cut off whatever else she might have said.

Delta crouched and shook her head sympathetically. “Left medical a little too soon, huh? What’s so important that it’s necessary to risk your health?”

NOT the robo-broad’s business! But her answer refused suppression: “Optimus...” cough, “He needs to be found.”

Delta patronized: “Sweetheart, I am sure he’s just fine. And I’m ever more certain that Ultra Magnus has everything well in hand.”

Several breaths later, the coughing abated and in spite of her wobbly frame, Rusti forced herself to stand. She wanted to sleep for a week. A burning sweat formed a layer along her lower arms and she wiped them on her clothes. “Yeah. I gotta go.” breath, “Magnus wants me at the central building.”

Delta brightened. “I’ll take you there!”

“No!” Rusti’s blustering objection made her lungs contract, inclined to cough again. She held her breath and her lungs ached but held still. “It’s all good. I’m good...” she clenched her fists as her skin smoldered under the exosuit.

“Nonsense!” Delta argued. “You’re my gal-pal. And I never turn down an opportunity to help a friend.” Rusti groaned and closed her eyes. Something way too big, too cold and solid wrapped round her entire body. Her arms, locked into the envelopment, could not budge. She choked as she lost her footing.

“Whoa!” Rusti cried out. “What-what-“ her feet wiggled uselessly. The wind blasted hair into her eyes and mouth and blocked her breath. Her body tilted one way, then another. Delta released Rusti and dropped her in mid-air. Rusti’s scream ended with a grunt as she landed on a cushion and bit her tongue at the same time. The robo-chic transformed around her and secured Rusti within. In spite of the rich maroon interior, soft seats and a handsome dashboard, Rusti panicked.

She fought against the safety belt strapping her firmly in place. “No, no!” she coughed, gagged, cried and coughed more. “I’m good! I-“ her heart pounded, the world tilted and her breath shortened. Tightly closing her eyes, Rusti dropped her head against the seat, swallowing her heart.

“Calm down, Darling!” Delta sang. “Just trying to help out, that’s all. We’ll be at the comm center in a jiffy.” she turned dead quiet for a long moment when Rusti did not answer. “You know, I just wanted to help, Dear.” Delta stopped fifty yards from the building. She held still while Rusti tried to calm her heart and slow the blood surging through her tight veins. “You... do like me, don’t you, Rusti? You and me, we have so much in common.”

That got the young lady’s attention. Rusti dragged her head up and stared at the dash with bewilderment. “What? I don’t think we have that much in common, Delta. I... play Dinobot football and you... whatever it is that you do.” that sounded lame in her own ears and an uneasy feeling crept over Rusti’s skull. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well and I need to see what Magnus wants. So... uh... we can talk later.”

“Oh of course we can! I’d be delighted to tell you more juicy gossip and maybe we can even watch a movie together!”

You’re really trying too hard, Rusti thought. Delta rolled to the entrance and with a final good-bye, the femme veered off. Rusti watched the robo-chic disappear from view. Confused emotions scattered her head like a jumbled mix of toys. What just happened? Her burning skin turned icy and Rusti realized she did NOT like how the Paratron grabbed her. neither Optimus nor Rodimus ever picked her up and held her like that; like a bug caught in a mean little boy’s fist.
God, she could have killed me! The fear, adrenaline and confusion crashed against her heart. Rusti wrapped her arms about herself, dropped them, covered her face and sobbed.

The double doors round the corner swished open. Cloudstreaker stepped out and stretched. She caught sight of Rusti and knelt beside her. “Rusti?” she said softly. The femme opened her mouth again to ask if the young lady was alright. Clearly she was not. Cloudy mentally rephrased her question: “what happened?”

Rusti tried to control herself. “I-I...” her emotions overwhelmed her ability to speak in comprehensive sentences. “...Delta,” tears squeezed out volume and depth from her voie. “I don’t...” her heart and diaphragm conspired against her and she voiced nothing more.

“Why don’t you come inside, hon?” the kind femme invited. “Doctor Arcana says he found tea. Maybe he’ll give you a cup.”

Trembling, the young lady followed Cloudy inside. The main communications room bustled with greater activity than before. Two separate stations waited complete with medical flatbeds, scanners, strong lighting, crash carts, tool trays and other devices Rusti did not recognize. To her surprise, a third station stood at the farthest end of the room. But that flatbed stood occupied, its burden hidden by thermo covers.

“Rusti?” Magnus voiced bewilderment. “What brings you here?”

“Uh-well... you called and asked me to come.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, something about needing readings off Matrix ener-“

”I never called you, Rusti.”

“Ut-what? But I was arguing with you and everything.”

Magnus knelt on one knee for a closer view. He solemnly shook his head. “No, Rusti. I never called you.”

Her jaw trembled like the rest of her. “But...” she batted back tears and her cheeks flushed.

Cloudstreaker stood behind Rusti. “She was outside and I thought maybe Doctor Arcana might share a little of his tea with her.”

Rusti choked and dragged her eyes off Magnus. Her lips trembled now and tears left hot tracks on her face. She swallowed hard as Magnus asked Arcana if he had any tea to spare.

“Eh?” Arcana peeked out a control console at the second med station. “Oh, yes of course I do! I’ll need about six minutes, of course. The multiple-link capacitors aren’t lining right and I have to wait for Blast...er.” he grinned sheepishly when Magnus stared.

Three minutes later Rusti sat at a table with a cup of tea and a rare treat: a small dish of apple crisp. Her frayed nerves stitched a barrier between she and the tea.

The doctor settled into a seat and poured a cup for himself. He set the kettle down and smiled kindly. “There is no poison in the tea, Miss Witwicky,” he said quietly.

Dragging her eyes out of her own head, Rusti fingered the simple ceramic cup. She took one tentative sip. Rose hips, orange, clove and a dash of something else melted the ice in her ears and shoulders. She took another sip and her body started to relax.

“Not so bad having a cup of tea, is it, Rusti?” She shook her head. Arcana savored the taste. “This was something I pilfered from the Speedster before she took that dive on Lunarphyte. Now the apple crisp... I made that.”

She finally smiled and took a little spoonful of it. Rusti closed her eyes as sweet apple, cinnamon and brown sugar melted in her mouth. She swallowed hard again and set the spoon down. “I’m sorry, Doctor Arcana. I’m afraid I’m not in a talkative mood.”

“No need to apologize, my dear. Take your time.”

She frowned at the crisp. “I don’t think anyone has time, Doctor.”

Arcana departed one moment then returned for a plate of apple crisp himself. He spooned a mouthful before speaking. “We make time, Rusti. There is time for everything. It’s all a matter of how we use it.”

She bleakly nodded and momentarily wondered how old the Nebulon doctor really was. “I keep wondering if we’ll ever get back to Earth,” she mumbled. Another lump lodged in her throat and Rusti drank more tea to push it down.
Arcana sat back with folded arms. He studied her then sipped more tea. “I know it’s difficult living the way we are now. Although we all work hard to achieve our goals, we must face ourselves in the mirror at the end of the day. We privately ask whether or not it’s worth pushing on to the next day or the next week.” he leaned forward and dipped his spoon into the crisp. “For the Autobots, this sort of situation is not new. They will find allies, regroup and attack. We will not leave Earth in the hands-er-tentacles of the Quintessons.”

Rusti’s throat constricted. “I... want to go home. I want to find Optimus and go back to the life I had.” another tear escaped her control and she finally faced the doctor. “Does that make me a selfish coward?”

Arcana sighed. “No, it does not. It makes you a refugee, lost in places so foreign, you’re not even on the same planet. You’re not alone, Rusti. No one will think less of you. Myself and my fellow Nebulons went through the same process. Earth was not our home. We cannot go home. So... we make the best of it.”

She swallowed hard again. “How?” her words came as a mere squeak. Rusti wanted to drink more tea but distress denied her permission.

Arcana ate another spoonful with more thought in his eyes. “By marking your name on the people and events around you. By living in where you are now, accepting the changes and bending rather than breaking. Love what you had but cast your eyes on what’s ahead and fight for your future, Rusti.” he paused, finished his tea. “We’ve all been knocked down. We’ve been chased and dragged across space. But we’re still alive and we’re going to go back and fight for what belongs to us. And it’s that future that’s worth fighting for, worth pushing toward.”

Rusti took hold of those words and thought of Delta. She scared Rusti, made her leery. But Rusti did not want someone else fighting her battles. She drew a deep stuttering breath.

Arcana stood and pushed his unfinished crisp toward her. “I need to get back to work, my dear. Please finish this for me. I do not want it to go to waste.”

***

Everyone parted for the group of humanoids and not-so humanoids as they trailed between the Covenant and the Crested Moon, between the Confiscator and the Hannibal’s Mark. Arcee led the way, controlled by the elfin alien shadowing her footsteps. Kup and Jacket followed Wolfen Tagmar and four other self-proclaimed psychics. They paraded along the base’s landing strip then paused when Arcee stopped a foot or two shy of the comm center’s main entrance.

Wolfen Tagmar faced those behind her and ignored approaching spectators. “Do not attack unless I say so,” she said to her fellows. “Do not speak to the girl, the Decepticon or the power-shaper. Do not link with them, either. I will speak to the one in charge.”

Without a glance at Kup or Jacket, Arcee turned about face and led the group into the comm center’s main lobby then through the large sliding doors.

Asleep slumped over the table, Rusti awoke when the Confiscator alerted the Razor Lady of approaching psionic energy. REMAIN STILL. DO NOT MOVE. REMAIN STILL...

The razor-sharp burning sensation that raked her lower arms earlier now boomeranged. Rusti shot up and clawed at her armor. Unfortunately, she could not remove the lining around her arms without removing the entire outfit. Her stomach clenched tightly in pain and her back itched. She visually sought the comm center for a ‘ladies room’ but recognized nothing. The large main entrance doors slid away and Arcee stepped in followed by five unknown aliens, Kup and Paratron Jacket.

Rusti squirmed under her exosuit and fisted her hands, willing the pain under her control. She continued to watch as Ultra Magnus approached the intruding group and hailed Arcee first then Kup. Arcee reported with a warped, monotone voice and a vocabulary not her own.

“My name is Wolfen Tagmar. I represent the Psicada, a collective of individuals endowed with extra-natural abilities. Did you, or did you not hear the warning we broadcasted across the Cygnus-Tri-Altus systems?”

Magnus glanced first at Rusti, then at Wolfen Tagmar herself then back to Arcee. “Not until it was too late,” he replied.

Wolfen stepped away from Arcee and roved her eyes around the room until she stared at Rusti. “Malarov,” Arcee used a dialect unknown to the Autobots. “Wontuun alas.”

A force, like an invisible hand, tugged at Rusti. She gave the psychic a dirty look. “NO!” she replied sternly. “If you wish to speak to me, you may do so nicely.”

Rusti stood solid as the elfin-like alien approached her with angry eyes. “Malrovoy wontuun alas, ba-dallius!” Arcee’s voice, but Wolfen’s expressive command.

Magnus flinched and Cloudstreaker loudly gasped when Rusti boldly slapped Wolfen. “Respect is something exchanged, not demanded.” she snarled.

Magnus and Cloudy heard Rusti speak with words native to neither English nor Autobot.

Wolfen drew back, just as surprised as the Autobots. She touched her cheek and blinked her large green eyes. “Tha-“ she lipped the word but made no sound. She glanced at Arcee then at Rusti. The psychic stepped aside as her personal translator approached. Arcee moved stiffly then stood as though tied to a pole. Her head dropped, though the femme saw nothing on her own.

“No one has touched me since I was a child...” Arcee translated in Autobot. “I apologize, I am not here to fight.” Wolfen’s eyes held fast on Rusti even as she reached to take Rusti’s hand in hers. Rusti’s eyes softened but she maintained her shields, carefully embracing the Matrix close to her soul.

Deep-throated cackles barked from the other end of the room where Rysar Phayron-Zeta witnessed the incident from his prison. “How typical for humans to react to everything with violence. I find this display of some amusement. Please do it again.”

“Shut up, freak!” Rusti shouted.

The Quintesson switched to its Face of Deceit. “You say ‘freak’, Rusti Witwicky. But you are here, bonded to us, to the station. Is it not you who has held conversations with the base’s personality? What did it call itself? Trevor? You are the anomaly, the one who holds what remains of the Matrix; a vessel, ripe for alien cohabitation. We should very much like to study you.”

“That’s enough!” Magnus intervened

the Quintesson hacked a laugh and its faces animatedly rotated. “You seek to cure your leaders of the Virus, Ultra Magnus but the truth is that the Virus cannot be destroyed. Already it has feasted on the Matrix which in turn gave it LIFE! The Virus has evolved to the point of self-consciousness and there is an 88.69% probability that the Virus may have found a way to replicate.”

Wolfen Tagmar bounced her eyes from Ultra Magnus to the Quintesson, to Rusti then back to the Major-general. Arcee clocked around. “Tell us of what he speaks, Ultra Magnus. What is this Virus?”

Rysar Phayron-Zeta spoke in Magnus’ stead: “The designated destruction of their species. The Virus is our greatest-“

”SHUT UP!” Rusti shouted. “YOU AND YOUR ILK; naught but a disease across the galaxies!”

Phayron switched to his Face of Greed and he smiled. “The monster is a prized creation, wrought by the strength of Quintesson genius, of Inouxian power and the DNA of a species that does not exist in this reality.” the Quintesson did not miss Rusti’s pallid expression. “Oh yes,” he continued. “Bare Anches is a monument to science, the pinnacle of knowledge and the Tower of Babel that attained Godhood.”

The parameter scans chose to bleep at that moment. Grateful for the momentary distraction, Cyclonus answered the call and channeled it to Magnus’ personal line. Magnus turned to Cyclonus and Jazz. “It’s Lyric from the Sabor’s Claw. She says Rodimus just passed the ship on the way here. Kup?”

“Got it, Magnus. I’m taking some backup just in case.”

Phayron sniggered again. “Run, run as fast as you can...” the Quintesson babbled on but Rusti heard nothing more. She breathed with lungs no longer her own. She visualized the world through alien eyes. She sensed things and people far and near and there... there... Rodimus walked as though he were underwater, slogging his way through liquid, over rock and sand. Her Rodimus was heavy, now. His core, cold with illness, shrank to the smallest, darkest part of his being. His fuel lines ran dark with infection. His mind, beleaguered by Void’s influence, longed for light and happiness.

Rusti choked with tears. Save him, she privately begged, save my Rodimus! She shuddered when an image of Void turned and stared straight at her then at the Quintesson. Rusti swallowed hard. “It’s coming for him,” she said aloud. “Void’s coming here for the Quintesson.”

Magnus shot a look at their prisoner. Cyclonus smirked, leaned against the consol and folded his arms. “How deliciously ironic,” he glanced from Rusti to Rysar Phayron-Zeta. “Your so-called godhood sits in an Autobot prison, hunted by the very thing you created. I’ll be sure to ask the Virus whether or not you taste good.”

Rysar’s tentacles flailed. He feigned a calm attitude. “You will not allow it to kill me!” he scoffed. “You need me to help you find a cure-“

”You can’t cure it!” Rusti shouted. “You fraudulent, sleazy sadist! The Virus can choose to be corporeal and intangible. It can shrink and expand its form. It can exist on physical and psychological planes. It devours energy and can phase and this is ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! WHY SHOULDN’T WE SACRIFICE YOU AS ITS DINNER?” She did not know her eyes shot bright blue nor was Rusti aware of her tears as they soaked her face. She ground her teeth and her hands trembled. Wolfen beside her glanced at Cloudstreaker with pleading eyes.

The femme opened her mouth but nothing came out at first. The entire room tensed with the young woman’s rage. “Rusti?” Cloudy said softly, “hon, how about we step outside a moment? Just you and I?”

Rusti retained her terrible glare on Phayron-Zeta until Wolfen stepped aside, quiet and cautious. Cloudstreaker took a step forward and Rusti complied. She pounded the metal flooring and stormed out as Jacket and the other three psychics gave her a wide berth.

Wolfen/Arcee turned from the entrance to Magnus. “She is a very powerful young lady. She is also very sick.”

“What?”

Rusti could not reach outside fast enough. She slipped out the main doors and slammed her back against the wall, out of breath and emotionally wound. Fury pumped adrenaline through her veins and all her heavy breathing failed to dilute its concentrated surge. “I never believed in hating anything,” she said more to herself than Cloudstreaker. “But that thing in there, that... tentacled freak show... I get anywhere near it and all I want to do is kill it... dead.” yet panting, Rusti raised her eyes to her present Autobot companion. “What an awful thing to think or say, don’t you think? I mean... I hate them, Cloudstreaker. Everything I care about... it’s their fault.” she gripped her hair by the roots, scrunched down, head against her knees and channeled her anger through voiceless tears.

The femme didn’t quite know what to say. She knelt, projecting compassion. “Rusti. Hon... you need to be strong. You may have to return inside and face him again-“

”NO,” Rusti answered without looking up. “Tell Ultra Magnus I’m sorry. But I’m pretty sure if I go back in there, I’ll murder that thing.” she lifted her tear-stained face, her eyes soaked with emotional strain. “I’m not a murderer. But I’m pretty sure that’s what will happen.”

Cloudy leaned forward, “how can you-“ a bright light cut off her words and the two ladies turned their gaze left whereupon a flying buttress a Matrix memory flashed to life.

Rusti jumped to her feet. “FUCK YOU!” she screamed, “GET AWAY FROM ME!!”

Static flickered and snapped. At first the memory played soundless. Rusti shook her head, backed off and ran round the corner. Cloudstreaker turned to follow then recoiled in horror when the window peeled off the buttress and followed Rusti. It zoomed past her then all but rammed into her face. Rusti screamed, slid in her tracks and landed on the ground. The static cleared into a high-contrast scene of an incident with a bus driver. Rusti all but forgotten it and she wondered why a memory that pertained strictly to her now displayed in black and white.

The bus driver, an adult-sized wooden puppet, scratched notes on a clipboard. He turned and stared right at her with jerky movement and batted wooden eyes.

“Hello.”

Rusti swallowed air and scooted off until she regained her footing.

 
He tilted his head, the wood grain moved out of sync. “Whaddo I look like to you, Rusti?”

Rusti trembled head to toe. “S-s-s-shut up.”

“You remember me, don’t you, Rusti? The Doppleganger Cult? The destruction we caused in Central City? You were so little; you’re still little. Come here, Rusti and teach me about unlife. Teach me ‘intangible’, R-r-r-usti."

Rusti’s skin frosted, her heart pounded in her chest, one train crash after another. Sounds outside herself, outside the moment, called for her to turn away, to shun the window, to stop talking to it. Rusti started to hyperventilate.

The Doppleganger bus driver faded into static and snow; Rusti’s breathing slowed. But caught under the Virus’ spell, she froze to the ground, incapable of thought or movement. Someone tugged her left arm, tried to speak in her ear, even cupped her face between their hands but Rusti did not see a face, did not recognize Doctor Arcana at all.

The window floating before her hissed with ongoing static until another image appeared. Broad shapes, greyed colors, a set of dark blue optics stared back at her.

Optimus.

His hand reached for her. Rather than touching Rusti herself, his hand retracted; now dangling a younger version of herself between thumb and forefinger.

Rusti’s heart and lungs stopped. Her blood froze as she watched a black and white version of her younger self fall from a window in central command; she fell...

And fell...

And fell....

“...and fell,” she formed the words with her lips only while she stared, stunned and breathless.

“So tell me, how well do you know Optimus Prime? I’m sure you’ve found he’s... complicating.”

“Optimus has a habit of keeping secrets... Optimus is all about diplomacy; how to use people or steer them... to benefit him(self) or whatever plans he has in mind... He does it with almost everyone. And usually, the... tool is not even aware of it.”