DEVELOPPE

Cyclonus reported to the Quintesson central command as per Magnus’ request. He expected to confront the Major-general regarding an imbalance in the asteroid’s force field. But upon finding Jazz in Magnus’ place, Cyclonus cleared and reset his assumptions and expectations.

Jazz dragged himself out from under a computer panel. He greeted the Decepticon lieutenant with a light smile before taking a gulp of energon rations. Minding his manners, he extended his flagon to his new comrade.

"I appreciate the offer, Commander. But I am fine for now." Cyclonus’ hands twitched.

Jazz set the flagon down. "It’s a peace offering, Cyclonus. I don’t suppose ya git many of em."

"I don’t, actually," Cyclonus confessed, deadpan.

"Yeah, I’ll bet," Jazz muttered to himself. "Well, did anybody tell ya why you’re hanging with me?" Cyclonus only shook his head. Jazz reached for a datatablet and leaned against the console. "I been asked t’ find a way t’ cut the tractor beam so we c’n git off this crazy rock. Trouble be, I doan speak Quintesson."

Cyclonus nodded with understanding. "And you’re assuming that I might."

Jazz shrugged. "You an’ ol’ Laughing Boy did spend time with ‘em. Thought you mighta picked up a cuss word ‘r two."

Cyclonus’ expression lightened so subtly Jazz did not pick it up. "Sounds like a long shot, Commander. You’re right, of course. I can understand Quintesson. But how did you guess?"

"Y’ ain’t the type t’ let nothing slip past ya. I mean... none a’ them cons stepped outside the line so long as you were around. They didn’t dare."

Cyclonus’ optics narrowed and brightened. "Are you trying to flatter me?"

Jazz’ expression darkened. "No. Jus’ statin’ facts." The Trench Driver’s captain hoped his mouth didn’t get him into trouble with Cyclonus by accidently insulting the Decepticon. Galvatron was willing to cooperate to the fullest, insulted or not. But he did not speak for his companion. Jazz’s stress levels dropped when Cyclonus conceded with a nod.

"What did you need me to do?"

Cyclonus and Jazz poured through the communications equipment until Ultra Magnus arrived to check on their progress in person. He answered six internal comline calls, signed his authorization on two requests and answered four questions on his digipad. Two days of non-stop work left him not so much as a five-minute break. No word from Rusti since she left to find the Primes and that, too, was a day and a half ago. Perceptor and his assistants completed repairs on the Dancing Siren’s life support systems and now Blue, Smokescreen and Grotesque slaved over the Siren’s systems, triple-checking every inch of the ship. Twelve other ships were ready for take-off. A miracle, considering how much time the Autobots took to keep their vessels intact.

Magnus privately swore if they ever get back to Earth, he’d never go on an extended deep-space mission for the next million years.

Directing all his ‘calls’ to Convoy, Magnus crouched on the floor where Jazz and Cyclonus worked on rewiring the communications console. "How goes it? What kind of time line are we looking at?"

Because they dealt with highly sensitive equipment, Jazz and Cyclonus carefully lowered their digipads and tools in front of them to talk with Magnus. Jazz huffed a sigh. "Long an’ hairy, Mags. It ain’t pretty. Can’t give ya an absolute. Them Quints rigged it so as nobody but their slimy tentacles c’n play on these boards."

Cyclonus took his turn: "there’s somethin’ more," he added, "we’ve tapped into communications left under the emergency routing systems. Whatever happened here left clues in the messages."

Magnus swerved his optics from Decepticon to Autobot and back. "How so? What do you mean?"

Jazz nodded for Cyclonus to demonstrate. Galvatron’s stoic friend reached for a small amplifier, attached it to his digipad and pressed three controls. A monolith of static phased into life a yard from Ultra Magnus. The static faded and a holographic single-headed Quintesson appeared. The image blinked out and the Quintesson spoke without a voice until the sound file caught up: "...our medical and science is Divinity at work. Practically nothing is impossible. Everything from medical miracles to psychic slaves tailored to your specific needs can be met... purchased here on Bare Anches..." the hologram froze, disappeared then returned.

Magnus gave a sideline glance to Jazz. "How were you able to translate this so quickly?"

"Didn’t," Jazz answered as he and Cyclonus exchanged tablets. "Some o’ this public stuff’s done in four differ’nt trade languages."

"Thenoshian trade language," Cyclonus corrected. "It’s a very upper-level black market language. There’s also recordings done in Pabolak, Corsicus and Aramanese." Cyclonus held up a finger before stabbing his pad: "however, the Thenoshian language was recorded over a subfrequency sound. Jazz used his finesse and skills to filter it out:"

"... installed the new virus... pregnancy results in five Forquaran days..."

Cyclonus paused the message, "‘Forquaran’ refers to a dead solar system somewhere in the Beta Quadrant. It revolved around a star cluster every five hundred and two Earth days. The system itself rotates every forty-two point three earth hours."

Magnus, a hobby astronomer himself, couldn’t believe what he just heard: "an entire solar system that rotates just like a planet? What by the Matrix could have caused that?"

The very corners of Cyclonus’ lip components lifted slightly. "It pleases me to inform you that it was not our fault. At least, that during Galvatron’s rule over the Decepticon army. Nor do Decepticon archives mention anything of Megatron’s occupation in that sector. Ergo, I lightly suggest you ask the Quintessons."

"Why?" Magnus kept his tone at one level while the Decepticon lieutenant used a sonic driver to make small adjustments on an adaptor.

"Because it’s their garbage dump, their old laboratory and a storage facility. I would not even be surprised if the Quintessons also kept lock boxes there. As much as they brag and gloat, Quintessons like to keep their mistakes as secret as possible."

Magnus turned to Jazz, puzzled. Jazz returned his look with a shrug. Magnus frowned when Convoy contacted him internally to report three missing EDC officers. He silently acknowledged her and returned to the moment. "Have you at least found anything about the tractor beam? Have you found a way to shut it off?" The Major-general turned annoyed when Jazz and Cyclonus exchanged a dubious glance. Jazz reached up and hit a nondescript button on the panel next to them.

A deep voice screamed above a room filled with other screams. "Melice adar! Melice adar! Ahban toi chatran: melice adar! Croix insepency! Croix insepency!"

A weapon cracked the air, electricity vibrated and the same voice returned with weak tones, gasping for air: "Croix insepency."

"What the..." Magnus choked back his fear, "I’ve heard that somewhere before, that phrase... Jasmine Goodwin-"

Jazz interrupted him. "That WAS the control switch for the tractor beam. It was rigged t’ that recording for some reason. But it’s only part a’ longer message. Play it, Cyc. Play it all. He’s gotta know."

"Know what?" Magnus’ patience disappeared.

Rather than answer, Cyclonus pressed a sequence of buttons on his datatablet and the control panel lit up. A different Quintesson appeared. It tried to appear friendly and inviting, its holographic self stood aside to present Bare Anches’ best asset: the hydroponics lab.

"Greetings, visitors, friends and investors! We are pleased you have chosen to tour our highly advanced science and medical facility. Complete with five levels, our medical and science is Divinity at work. Practically nothing is impossible. Everything from medical miracles for the impaired and deathly ill to physical and psychic slaves, bred tailored and trained to your specific needs can be met here on Bare Anches.’

‘We are confident you will find something you’d either like to invest in or purchase right from the hands of our friendly and courteous staff. If you have further questions, do not hesitate to ask. We look forward to serving you."

Cyclonus lifted a finger. "That was the full message. However, there is the message underneath that caught our attention:" Cyclonus flipped screens on his pad and his fingers danced over the controls. The holographic Quintesson next to Ultra Magnus shifted into the more familiar five-faced freak. Two tentacles limped with torn appendages. A wound wrapping covered its Face of Greed and black blood seeped from the left eye on its Face of Death.

"Melice adar! Melice adar! Ahban toi chatran: melice adar! Choth! Choth! Ime pyr croix insepency. Naquamu!! Ime pyr croix insepency! Croix insepency! Croix-" the Quintesson in question took a direct hit and it blew to pieces.

Magnus flinched, although he knew it was only a projection. He tucked his dignity back in place. "I don’t suppose, Cyclonus, you might tell me what they were just saying."

"Melice adar is a title, probably something like a head scientist or a program director. Ahban toi chatran is a plea to stop doing what you’re doing. Choth means deadly danger; the type of danger that, say, means the end of a planetary object or the destruction of a space station. Naquamu is a Quintesson’s name. But Ime pyr croix inspency... everything has utterly failed with indescribably horrific results: Do not repeat this experiment. It’s the Quintesson equivalent of FUBAR... to use a Human term, which I know Jazz understands. Only, for Quintessons, it’s times infinitely worse."

"At’s right, Mags," Jazz added. "It’s like ‘the monster’s loose’, kinda warning."

Cyclonus lifted his digipad. "According to a few other transmissions we’ve gathered, whatever happened, freaked the Quintessons beyond even their unemotional rationality."

Magnus swam through the bad news to piece together the cause of their currently captivity. "The message was tied to the tractor beam controls?" Neither Jazz nor Cyclonus answered him, which, in their unspoken answer was ‘yes.’ The shock of bad news was hard enough to take, but the fact that the Quintessons encountered something that frightened them held a weight greater than Magnus knew how to deal.

The wearisome burden lit up minutely when Cloudstreaker contacted Magnus through the command center’s communication lines.

"Commander," Her voice brightened the room. "I think you need to take a look at this. Permission to meet with you, sir."

Magnus took three seconds to clear his overwhelmed processor. "Meet me at the entrance, Cloudstreaker," he permitted. And he dropped his voice for Jazz and Cyclonus. "Get that tractor beam offline. I don’t care if you have to blow the building."

****

Sunstreaker sat at a table in the science and medical’s cafeteria. He slowly rocked himself and half-sang some old tune about rough highways and truckers. Sideswipe sat with him as they waited for Crossy to bring Sunny’s energon. He refused to refuel with anything unless it was served boiling hot and spiced with thorium. Sideswipe picked up a digipad from Quasar and uploaded a few movies and a couple of episodes from some stupid, ‘gurlie’ series. At least the movies he found were Cybertronian-based comedies performed by an actor troupe from Fort Sagittarius. He and Sunny watched six movies already and his ploy to get his brother to stay calmed seemed to work just fine. The problem, however, sat next to Sideswipe, staring without looking. After the last nightmare escapade, Sideswipe did not think Sunny would sleep again.

Optimism was Sideswipe’s only thread of hope. It slowly unraveled hour-by-hour as his brother slipped further from him and reality.

Crossy entered the cafeteria from the kitchen, bearing a tray of flagons. "Here we are, boys!" she declared cheerfully. "Straight from the hands of our master chef, Orbutus." The lady Monsterbot set a flagon in front of each twin before taking a seat and sipping her own.

Sideswipe set his digipad aside and waited for his brother to sip his first. "Sunny?" he asked. "How about one sip? Just one, just for me, okay?"

"Ooohh... I’m drivin’ my life away... lookin’ for a better way for-or me. Ooohhh... I’m drivin’ my life away, lookin’ for a sunny day...That’s my name, isn’t it Sideswipe? You call me ‘Sunny’, yeah?"

"‘t’s right, bro. Now drink before it gets too cold."

"That’s for me?"

"Yeah. Crossy made sure it was done just the way you like it."

Sunstreaker bobbed his head and took a sip then a second one. "Ooohh... I’m drivin’ my life away... lookin’ for a better way..."

Doublecross set her energon down and nodded at Sunstreaker, but directed her conversation to Sideswipe. "What’s with the Eddie Rabbit craze?"

Sideswipe shook his head and raised his arms up then dropped them in a shrug before turning to Sunstreaker. Sunny bounced his head while the old tune circulated in his processor like a windmill. He drank half his flagon, sang part of the song, drank more, sang more then drank the rest. He wiped dribble off his faceplate then peered into Sideswipe’s flagon.

Hopeful at the prospect that his brother wanted more, Sideswipe eagerly slid his energon to the right. "Still hungry, Sunny?" he asked. "You can finish mine."

Sunny stared into it and held his gaze at the florescent liquid. "Always pretty," he sang. "Always so pretty. It goes into your insides and makes them pretty, too. Can I see them, Sides?"

"What?" Sideswipe tried not to recoil.

"Your insides, Sides. Lemme see your insides. Lemme see the pretty color coating your insides." Sunstreaker reached for Sideswipe’s chest plate, fingering for the opening.

Sideswipe elbowed him off. "No. C’mon now, Sunny. Knock it off. Did you want more energon or what?"

"I want your energon, Sides," Sunstreaker pushed closer, his hand gripped his brother’s chest until Sideswipe pushed him off.

"Stop! That’s enough, Sunny. Let’s get you back to your quarters. Now." he removed himself and both their flagons from the table.

Sunstreaker watched him, head tucked down, optics bright with an emotion Crossy could not name... predatory, perhaps? She tapped the table for Sunny’s attention. "Hey," she called. "Sunny? How about you, me and your brother there play a couple of games? Hmm? I’m sure you guys are tired of watching bad movies."

"What’s that?" Sunny asked in low tones. "‘ts that? You said something?"

Crossy smiled nervously. "A game, Sunny. I just asked if you would like to play a game. You guys have been watching movies almost all day. Did you want to do something different?"

Sunny returned to rocking himself. "Game. Game. Omk zh’vvupteen. Omk zh’vvupteen. Omk zh’vvupteen."

Sideswipe returned with a rag to clean his brother. Standing behind Crossy, he stared, uncertain before getting a grip and rounding the table. "Here, Sunny. Let’s clean you up."

"Omk zh’vvupteen!" Sunstreaker leapt out his chair and attacked Sideswipe. He clawed at his brother’s chest before leaping away.

Laying a hand on the shallow wound, Sideswipe rolled off the floor. He expected Sunstreaker’s disappearance out the room, but one glance out the hall told a different story. "Where the Pitt did he go?" Streaker and Crossy scanned the cafeteria, holding their proverbial breath.

Crossy cautiously stepped toward the kitchen, "Sunny?" she called. "Sunny, please come back. We don’t have to play games."

"Sunstreaker!" Sideswipe voiced frustration in his brother’s name. "Sunstreaker, come on... let’s just get back to our quarters, okay?"

Sideswipe grunted with his brother’s bodily impact, the two of them skidded along the floor, leaving sparks in their wake. Sunstreaker punched his brother three times before he sank claws into Sideswipe’s head and slammed Streaker into the floor. He succeeded twice before Crossy flew into him. They rolled in a tangle of legs until Sunstreaker kicked her off. He bounded away like a mad dog then caught the nearest wall and climbed it like a spider.

Doublecross charged her laser rifle and set it for stun. She and Sideswipe neared Sunstreaker with the caution of a trapper. Sunstreaker hissed in low tones and continued his ascent. At the three-quarters point, he turned and vomited. Streaker and Crossy leapt away as Sunny’s volatile energy mix ate the nearest table.

Sunstreaker spoke with a double voice: "Gamessss and gamessss. We remember the gamesss. Optimus said so. Optimussss remembers the games and we hates the games. All make unalive. Ashes! Ashes! They all fell down! Down! DOWWWWWWNN!" Sunstreaker howled and slammed his head into the wall. "GET OFFA ME! GET OFF! GET OFF! LEAVE ME ALONE!" He heaved for air until a guttural noise welled from the bottom of his vocalizer.

Sideswipe cried out when Sunny released the wall and plunged into the damaged table. "SUNNYY!!!" Sideswipe dropped his weapon and gripped his fragile brother. He held Sunstreaker as gently as possible while he and Crossy searched for broken pieces."

"His left leg is fractured, Sideswipe," Crossy reported. Let’s get him back right now."

Sideswipe lifted Sunny off the table and cradled him as they made for the door. Sunstreaker whimpered. His optics flared on then dimmed; two windows of pain and sadness. "Sssides..."

"I know, Bro," Swipes cooed. "We’re gonna take you back and getchya all fixed. You an’ me can sit and watch some sleazy movie, yeah?" Sideswipe wanted to squeeze all his life into his brother. He focused on Crossy; the only thing that kept Sideswipe from falling apart.

****

Convoy sat on the bridge of the Razor Lady and directed calls and situations for Ultra Magnus as they reared their heads. She authorized a duty switch between Volt and Checker on the Trench Driver while Jazz worked with Cyclonus and ordered a rearrangement on downtime for Notch and Postfix.

Another call came in, this time through the ship’s com boards. From her seat, Convoy routed the call. "Convoy," she answered in a soft, but husky voice.

"Heya, Boss-Ma’am," Blaster greeted over the air. "Just wonderin’ if you still got them stats on the refurbishing solder we picked up from Cratis."

"Uhh... where’s that digipad?" I know I have it, Blaster. Let me get back to you on that."

Convoy picked up a datatablet and sifted through the list of sign-outs she compiled earlier that day. According to her list, Searchlight was the last Autobot to sign out digipad #2527-Tau-A-pgT. She shook her head. Searchlight was notorious for failure to clean up after himself or putting things away. He also frequently left his post without authorization.

"Searchlight, this is Convoy, over." She waited, hoping he was with someone and not off investigating something he might have heard or thought he heard. "Searchlight, this is your captain speaking. I want a status report. Over."

Nothing. Convoy kept her cool. "Ion, this is Convoy."

"Heya," Ion answered with an even voice.

"Listen up, I can’t contact Searchlight. Is he with you?"

"Alright, thanks." Convoy cut the call and tried to hail the Throttlebot one more time with the very same results. "Damn," she muttered. She contacted Cloudstreaker, currently in a meeting with Magnus.

"Commander?" Cloudstreaker’s mild voice filled the empty bridge with better formality than her peers.

"Hey, Hon," Convoy greeted. "Have you seen Searchlight? I can’t seem to reach him and he has a digipad with inventory results on it."

"I’m sorry..." Cloudstreaker’s transmission fuzzed with static then cleared up, "...can ask Arcee if you need the data."

Convoy puzzled over the static, "good idea. Thank you, Cloudstreaker." Convoy ended the call and paced the bridge, concerned. Hopefully Searchlight turned up soon; just so she could assign him a job reminding him rules regarding the buddy system.

"Commander?" Cloudy’s voice returned, accompanied by additional static.

"I’m receiving you, Cloudstreaker," Convoy answered. "But you’re not very clear." Static ate more transmission and Convoy struggled to make out Cloudy’s words. "I’m sorry, Cloudstreaker, Seismic isn’t at communications right now. Can you..." Cloudy said something more but her voice, distorted by static, sounded as though from a distance. Fed up, Convoy punched a control on her chair. "Freezeframe, will you please come to the-"

The main viewer flickered to life. Static snowed over whatever transmission struggled to come through. Half annoyed, Convoy turned it off. Whomever tried to reach her could call back. She tried to hail Freezeframe again when the main viewer flickered back to life on its own. Convoy froze and stared at the screen. Her power core vibrated hard, her optics glued to the screen with anxiety.

The static snapped away replaced by the picture of a strange tree. As though shaped from mud, the visual swept up and rounded the top like an umbrella. However, an upturned claw or thorn protruded from the tree’s right side. The image, smooth in surface and curvature, blinked out then back and froze until the umbrella top portion of the rendering lifted upward and separated. It morphed into a triangular head. The frontal point of the head split open like a set of insect pincers.

Convoy trembled with terror and stepped back. Her fuel lines froze. Then a black, tapered appendage slipped out the screen and tapped on the viewer’s bottom edge as though the drawing itself were searching for purchase on which to stand.

"NO!" Convoy drew her nitro-ion pistol and shot the main viewer. The screen cracked, the image disappeared and with it, the projected appendage. Convoy sank to the floor, trembling as with chills. "What... what did I see? What did I see? Oh, God, what did I see?"

****

Up to his elbows in grease and Snarl’s internal components, First Aid did not hear the initial reaction outside the large operating room. He carefully removed the Dinobot’s power core, cerebral aqueduct and central ventricle system and gently lowered them into a tank of special fluids.

Repairing the Dinobot did not sit at the top of First Aid’s list. The other Dinobots did fine without him. In fact, Grimlock’s status took higher priority, although repairing Snarl required less work. Triage, as far as First Aid was concerned, made his life miserable. His medical assistants dismantled the damaged chassis and tucked it away. First Aid vowed to bring Snarl back to his brothers but only when time permitted

The commotion outside the operating room reached the weary medic. He lifted his visor, meeting Apogee’s optics. They froze their visual contact a moment before Apogee stripped her gloves.

"Excuse me, sir, while I find out what’s going on."

First Aid double-checked Snarl’s status and vowed one more time he’d eventually take care of the Dinobot, now in stasis. Just as the doctor flipped a fresh window on his digipad, Apogee burst through the twin doors. "They’ve found Optimus Prime."

First Aid huffed with renewed exhaustion, slipped off his coverings and rushed out to meet Galvatron.

"First Aid!" Blue tried to tag him the moment he stepped out. She spoke as he walked on. Hotspot joined her a moment thereafter and asked about one of his team members. Ion caught up with the growing crowd and asked whether or not First Aid had seen Searchlight.

As the huddle of Autobots neared Galvatron, Rusti and Steeljaw, Blaster stomped in just as Perigee brought up an antigrave stretcher. Blaster waited as Galvatron laid Optimus upon it. Galvatron bent over his friend, his hands clasped round Prime’s right hand. "Not to worry about the paperwork, Optimus. I’ll take care of it. You just take the day off. Watch a movie, read a book, recite poetry to Rusti. We’ll talk later."

First Aid caught up and passed a hand scanner over the Autobot leader. "Where was he? What happened?"

"Uhh... Galvatron struggled to find words to describe his questionable, incongruent diagnoses. After all, he wasn’t a real doctor. "Well, we got separated-"

"Alright. He seems to be okay. Perigee take him to room forty-six. I’ll tend to him after I finish Snarl’s diagnostics report."

Rusti blinked on that one. "Wait, what?"

First Aid gave both Galvatron and Rusti a weary look. "Is he damaged? Did he damage anything? Do you know if he was injected with anything?" They didn’t answer him fast enough. "The scanner says he fine-"

Rodimus’ voice filled the immediate area with a presence that sent chills down Rusti’s spine. "Tisk, tisk, tisk, First Aid." he caught up with Galvatron and crossed his arms. "You’re putting the life of a Dinobot before our virtuous and heroic leader? Seriously? Oh, hi, Galvatron. Fancy meeting you here. You’ve been missed." Galvatron offered a hesitant smile but said nothing. Rodimus continued. "First Aid, how about sending Optimus through the fabulous collection of scanning equipment at your disposal? How about acquiring more help? Certainly we have enough Autobots and to spare. I’d even recommend Ultra Magnus were he not preoccupied with other important matters. Rusti, you can stop staring at me." Rodimus leaned slightly past Galvatron and peered at the young woman with indigo optics.

Fear clogged Rusti’s throat at first. She sucked in air and tried to pretend she wasn’t nervous. "I’m sorry... Roddi. I was just wondering where you were. I went looking-"

"In all the wrong places," Rodimus sternly finished. "Just like you to take your time and poke around things far above your intellectual level. But let’s not discuss that, shall we? Blaster, what are you standing there for? Give First Aid a hand. And the moment you bitch, I’ll turn you into one."

Blaster assisted Perigee to direct the antigravity stretcher toward the assessment area lining the left side. First Aid turned away then turned back as he slipped on a fresh set of gloves.

"I’m sorry, Rodimus. I don’t even know exactly what’s wrong with Optimus. Physically, he’s fine. I’ll be sure to send a report-" he choked back a cry when Rodimus flashed in front of him from twenty feet away. First Aid did not even see Rodimus move.

"I can tell you what ails him, First Aid. You don’t need to be either thick or coy about the situation. He swims in darkness. He walks along the Crumbled Paths, places no ordinary Autobot has ever seen unless they be Prime. Ooh... ever so careful, Doctor. Void plays no favorites. Even those between time lines are not safe. So you be a good little Autobot. I am leaving now to attend matters of a more... criminal nature."

First Aid watched Rodimus depart. Dread gripped the medic’s power core with icy fingers. Just for a moment, First Aid swore he spotted a shadow following Rodimus; a shadow that looked suspiciously like the Matrix Virus.

****

Left to herself, Rusti sat in a small waiting area toward the building entrance. Her mind boggled from thought to thought, consternated by Rodimus’ behavior. She worried over Optimus and thought it odd how the Autobot leader responded to Galvatron.

Leaning over, Rusti buried her face in her hands and rocked slightly. She hadn’t eaten since Ambient gave her the snack; she didn’t think she could eat. But a bath might ease her tension-and her drying skin. A little sleep might be wonderful, too.

The communicator on her exosuit softly bleeped. Rusti slipped on her helmet and activated the drop-down visual. "Hi, Ultra Magnus," she answered wearily. "I’m okay."

"Erm... I’m glad to hear that, Rusti. Try not to worry me again, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Listen, I hate to do this to you, Rusti. But I have no other choice. I need you to come to the Razor Lady and join us as a witness for the prosecution."

"Uhh... witness, Ultra Magnus?"

"I’ll explain-"

"I’m sorry, Magnus, but I’ve been lost for almost two days. I haven’t slept or eaten."

Magnus grew quiet and the young lady realized it meant he struggled to maintain patience. "I understand the fatigue, Rusti. But this is urgent."

Rusti sighed. "Alright. Let me grab something to drink and I’ll be right there."

Rusti picked up a protein drink and a bar at the entrance. Her shoulders and neck ached from lack of rest and Void’s form kept flashing through her head until she paused and recalled her experience inside the Matrix. She shuddered and kept walking, passing Bumblebee and Arcee.

Eject and Firebolt stood at the Razor Lady’s boarding hatch. EDC officer Aldred Daily boarded the hatchway when the cassette Autobot and the Targetmaster blocked his path.

"Not today, Lieutenant," Eject announced. "Sorry."

"What? I got files I need to retrieve!" Aldred huffed.

"Sorry," Firebolt signaled for Rusti to approach. "Magnus’ orders."

"It’s called business, Firebolt. Now let me through!"

Firebolt and Eject parted for Rusti to slip past. Aldred snorted. "Oh, so you’ll let in a little girl, who contributes nothing, but an officer isn’t allowed?"

Firebolt scoffed. "What part of Magnus’ orders don’t you get? What? You want me to break it down into a series of single-syllable words and spell them out for you? Look, I’ll even draw you a picture, if you like. Shove off!"

Rusti quickened her pace because she feared she’d laugh to loudly. Taking the lift to Level Two, Rusti followed Magnus’ directions down three corridors and to the left. She paused at the echo of her footfalls and slowly turned round.

Nothing.

She took another step and it created a strange echo, as though her movements were mirrored. With a shake of her head, she turned back and ran into a giant mirror. Rusti laid a hand on it testing its solidity, not something her head made up. Her reflection appeared dark and a blue fog spirited behind it. She glanced back and found the corridor just the same; the lighting and the blue strip bars all appeared normal. Gazing left once again, she stared face to face with a single-faced Quintesson. Its huge head pushed against the glass barrier; owlish eyes took on a begging expression.

"Ohmigod," Rusti breathed, "this isn’t the Virus. What’s going on here?"

"Ogkubutho,"

Surprised she heard him, Rusti only shook her head. "I’m sorry... sort of. I don’t know what you’d want me to do."

"Engli torp. Engli torp. Choth! Tepu, ime pyr croix insepency. Croix insepency!"

Void appeared as though bursting into a wall of glass from the right side. The Quintesson screamed, tentacles flailed as the Virus buried Its head into the squishy backside of the Quint’s brain.

Rusti covered her mouth and turned away as the Quintesson shrieked and slapped the glass barrier.