I found the grave.

Today I will dance with someone else.

–Fresh Infusion

Optimus rested partially propped on a flat, lightly covered with a soft grey blanket. They kept the lighting dim, the room warm as he slept. Paratron femme Euonymus checked the Autobot leader’s vitals, recorded them on a datatablet and sent a sad smile to Rusti.

"He’s physically okay at the moment. There’s some weakness along the peri-ductile lines, but it’s not something to worry about. He’s not responding to external stimulus. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough staff to take him down stairs for a meta-scan. He can probably hear you, however. He just can’t answer." The femme gently wiped Optimus’ helm with a soft cloth. "You don’t need to shout," Euonymus added. "Don’t stay too long. He really needs to rest."

Galvatron stepped aside as the Paratron took her leave. He set Rusti beside Optimus then respectfully stepped back.

"Hey," Rusti’s voice strained with worry. "You’re missing all the fun. I scared Magnus couple days ago. Took off to find you, Roddi and Galvatron. But don’t worry. Steeljaw came with me." she glided her hand over the back of his. "You know everybody is here, don’t you? This place, Optimus, is huge. I mean, I think the complex is huger than Fort Max. Do you remember that me and Galvatron dragged you through a part of the, um, hydroponics here? It was so beautiful! We saw glowing plant life and alien birds and bugs and thick, picnic-worthy grass. Beautiful, but weird, if you ask me. A floating chunk of rock somewhere off in space and there’s a garden and a science lab on it. And you know, in spite of the craptastic situation we’re in, space is really cool. Lots of stuff to see. I guess I’ll have to get out more often, huh?"

She hung her head and battled with negative emotions. Optimus did so well just a few days ago. Watching movies together made her feel more at home than she felt in a long time. Rusti cleared her throat and chose to be strong for him. "Optimus, I don’t want you to worry about me. Galvatron has been really helpful. You were totally right about him." the young woman glanced left and smiled gratefully at the Decepticon. He too, smiled. She let the quiet fall while her head and her heart warred over one another. She glanced at her silver ring. "I really want you to come back..." she didn’t want to finish the sentence, not in front of the Decepticon. "I really want you to come back to me, Optimus." she leaned forward, hands on his arm. "You come back to me," she said more firmly.

Not that she honestly expected an answer, but Rusti thought it nice if he did; just like the movies. With a shuddering breath, she pressed her dry lips to his smooth metal. "I have to go, my love. So, be good. Don’t give Euonymus a hard time. Okay?" she turned away as Galvatron offered to help her down.

"Bells?" Optimus weakly voiced.

Rusti’s face expanded with a great smile. She swung back with a gasp and hugged his prone hand. "It’s me and Galvatron, Optimus!" she glanced back at the silent Decepticon. "Say something to him!"

Galvatron mischievously grinned: "something to him." pause: "Prime," he recanted, "there is a beautiful young lady who’s doing a magnificent job holding a one-sided conversation. The least you can do is say hello."

Optimus said nothing at first. One finger twitched, then the thumb. "Bells," he repeated. "Little bells..." His optics dimmed on, slow as a winter sunrise. "Galvatron," he struggled to focus. "You’re not a bell."

Taking the comment in stride, Galvatron pointed to the young woman. "Might be her. She has a little voice. Charming. But it’s not her fault."

Optimus’ line of sight dropped to his left hand and a smile touched his weary optics. "Hi, Little Bell."

"Aww!" Rusti lost control of her voice and she squeaked, "I missed you!" she hugged his hand again, "my sweet, sweet heart!"

"Oh, God." Galvatron looked away and partially hid his face. "I did not just hear that." He waited for a retort. But Rusti paid no attention. Galvatron lingered while Rusti described her ‘safari’ through the enormous base searching for them. The Decepticon realized he no longer existed in their private world. He did not know why, but found it amusing. Rusti considered Optimus an audience of one. The cosmos might implode and neither of them would be the wiser.

He stepped out quietly and grinned when Euonymus almost ran into him. She nailed him with an icy glare when he blocked the door. "Galvatron, please step aside. I have work to do."

"Take a breather, Your Nursey-ness. Optimus is in the best hands in the house." He twisted left and she followed his optics past the windows. Rusti snuggled against Optimus, still talking. The Decepticon and the femme faced each other again.

"Ten minutes," Galvatron suggested. "Let her get it out of her system." The femme huffed but took his advice and checked on another patient. Walking on a smug cloud, Galvatron turned right and ran into Cyclonus. They stared at one another before the former Decepticon leader took a step back, glanced at his toes and pasted on a silly grin. "Why is it, Cyclonus, that you always find me at the most awkward moments in my life?"

"You’re not married, Galvatron. I thought I might improvise."

"What?" Only Galvatron could read the subtle changes in Cyclonus’ otherwise stoic expression.

The lieutenant gave his friend a moment to realize it was a joke before explaining himself. "I was hoping to find you. The Autobots are attempting to utilize a piece of Quintesson technology to repair one of the Dinobots. But the equipment is... complicating. I hoped, Mighty One, that you might come and assist us."

Galvatron’s optics narrowed and he leaned forward as though he didn’t understand. "Did you just call me ‘Mighty One,’ Cyclonus?" he paused. "Seriously? Do you think I’m that good looking?"

"No, Galvatron."

Galvatron held his palms out in surrender. "Just checking." Cyclonus nodded toward the greater part of the makeshift hospital and led ‘Laughing Boy’ toward the back end. The scope and expanse of the science and medical facility impressed Galvatron-who was not often impressed. The Autobots pieced together three makeshift cranes. Humans moved around oversized Dinobot components like ants around a series of matted tree roots. With a second look, Galvatron noticed they weren’t working on Grimlock.

The crane on the right bleeped a warning before its engine sputtered. Several groans and a few slurs followed the machine’s death. Quasar’s voice rang loud, ordering everyone to stop where they were so others could squeeze through and fix whatever happened.

Galvatron used that moment to turn to Cyclonus. "That’s not Grimlock," he said.

"No, it is not." Cyclonus slightly nodded toward the milling Autobots. "Apparently Snarl is still functional, but his outer casing was disassembled and damaged by one of Decetron’s Pretenders. First Aid was not going to work on Snarl. But but rumors suggest the Dinobots have a rather persuasive babysitter. So now they’re reshaping Snarl’s outer casing."

Galvatron folded his arms, unconcerned. "Well, they’re doing just fine. What do they want with me?"

With a wry smile, Cyclonus led his life-long friend several yards two o’clock of the operation. A series of assembled crates, computer panels and tool boxes formed a small control room. One chair stood between the Decepticons and a large monitor.

Galvatron stared at the computer connected to three separate operations. "There’s only one chair here."

"Yes. There is," Cyclonus confirmed.

"So, only one person can sit in here at a time."

"Yes."

"Well... you could sit on my lap."

Cyclonus did not look at his friend. Optics stayed trained on the monitor; the seconds ticked by. "I would not want Rodimus Prime to get jealous."

Jazz’s voice disrupted their conversation like a knife to a mushroom. "Hey you two loose-lipped lounge lizards! You just gonna stand round like a Phycian pot fish ‘r ya gonna do somethin’?"

Galvatron pointed to the single chair. "We were admiring the late twentieth century Autobot furniture design. Not many of these lying around-"

As short as Jazz was, he made up for it in gumption: "SIDDOWN." he hissed.

Cringing like a schoolboy caught skipping class, Galvatron complied; sheepish grin and all. Jazz hopped on top of one pile of crates while Cyclonus remained standing.

The Trench Driver’s captain handed Galvatron a dented datatablet containing a paragraph of Quintesson drivel. "Alrighty, schmity, here’s the first code:" Jazz and Cyclonus waited while Galvatron hummed in concentration. After six minutes, the former Decepticon leader turned round in his chair, frowned, hunched over and supported his chin on fists, elbows on knees. He watched six Autobots carefully weld pieces of Snarl’s new body while engineers tested and retested transform circuits.

"Well?" Cyclonus and Jazz chorused.

Galvatron did not answer right away. He sat up just before Jazz lost his patience altogether. "Well, it might be worth something of interest if we had a password." Jazz tilted his head, his visor darkened and he frowned. From the background, someone shouted ‘LOOK OUT!’ and all three mechs turned to watch as Snarl’s new tail swung out and slammed into a worker’s ladder. Fortunately, said worker gripped the scaffolding just in time. Galvatron scrutinized the body shape and looked confused. "Wasn’t Snarl supposed to be a stegosaurs?"

Jazz smiled. "Yeah. Jes’ that Trinket thought it’d cooler if Mr. Bored-and-Slow wore somethin’ new and diff’rnt. So..."

"She redesigned him into an Ankylosaurus," Galvatron finished. Jazz grunted and the three continued watching until Galvatron had to ask something more: "she didn’t make him into a girl, too, did she?"

"No," Jazz immediately answered.

They watched a little longer until Galvatron decided to answer Jazz’s initial question. "Well, the mystery message is an incoming report for some Slimy named Master-Director Caphus. Code Indigo, which means it’s above top secret."

Jazz stared at him, confounded. "Serious as a clot?"

Galvatron did not meet the city commander’s gaze. "As serious as I can ever be." he skipped a second then focused on the Autobot. "I’d not lie to you, Jazz. It serves no purpose." Jazz’s expression turned to disappointment. "Were there other things, Jazz, other messages?"

"Yeah. Couple a’ things but they all got that same ‘code indigo’-thing in them. So I’m guessin’ ‘less we c’n conjure what’s-his-name from thin air, we’re notta for answers."

A slow smile swept over Galvatron’s face. He shined amused optics on the Autobot. "That sticks in yer switches, doesn’t it?"

Jazz merely shrugged and let the matter drop. He and the two Decepticons observed with a private thrill as Grotesque and three other extra tall Autobots laid the heavily armored shell on top of the new Dinobot’s trunk. Those pieces that Snarl used to absorb solar energy now served as deadly spikes lining the outer edge of his back and spine. A flat, heart-shaped club completed a strong, lengthy tail.

Jazz cringed when Magnus’ firm voice announced an all-senior staff meeting over his internal com channel. "Meet us on the port of the Dancing Siren." Jazz was not fooled by Magnus’ stern orders; the Major-general was weary. "And bring the Deceptions with you."

That was an odd request. Jazz merely confirmed, signed off and hopped off the crates. "Best tag me," he told his companions. "Seems somethin’s cookin’ on Roddi’s stove an’ they want both a’ ya to attend."

Cyclonus thought the sudden meeting suspicious. "What about our chaperone?" he asked as Jazz walked away.

The city commander waved it off. "Don’tchya worry none. I’ll protect ya." He transformed and maneuvered around workers, sped past technicians and carefully avoided running over patients.

Three Autobots dangled outside the Dancing Siren’s port stern, reworking environmental controls when Jazz and the two Decepticons arrived. A crowd of officers gathered just under the Siren’s wing, avoiding the occasional shower of blowtorch sparks. Silverbolt greeted Jazz with a trying smile. Hotspot and Brainstorm glanced about the desolate, rocky landing area with nervous expressions.

Jazz nodded once at Silverbolt. "What’s up?" he asked quietly. "What’s with the tea party?"

"Captain Jamel Helser is dead," Silverbolt answered with the same muted tones. He glanced at Galvatron who did not miss the apprehension in his voice. "We’re holding a funeral."

Galvatron stepped closer. "That’s not all, is it? Not if both Magnus and Rodimus are here. What else is going on?"

Hotshot butt his way into the conversation: "they’re gonna declare the new captain of the Dancing Siren."

Galvatron remained unconvinced. "It takes both Prime and Magnus to do that? Are they going to toss a coin, or are they going to invoke a little Democracy? Not exactly Rodimus’ style, is it?"

Hotspot glared. "You mocking us, buster? Cuz this ain’t the place ‘r the time."

"No," Galvatron kept his voice carefully neutral. "I’m only pointing out the oddity..." he spotted a flicker of light; there and gone. Everyone else’s optics followed his. Nothing. Just when Jazz turned away, the unnatural light blinked three times before a window of static formed along the Siren’s port bow. Galvatron approached it first and visually scanned it. Although he picked up no mechanical energy dynamics, Galvatron swore on his own spark he sensed Matrix energy signatures.

The image of Grimlock focused into view. The Dinobot roared soundlessly and whacked his tail against Megatron. The Decepticon hurdled out of control then regained ground and attacked the Dinobot leader first by cannon then by physical force. The two danced for control over the other while the pavement under them crumbled beneath their weight.

"What is this?" Galvatron inquired.

"It’s a Matrix memory," Hotspot replied. "The Virus-"

"Excuse me," Silverbolt interrupted, "I don’t think it’s the Decepticon’s business. I don’t think we should be talking-" the Aerialbot startled when Galvatron laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"It’s alright, Silverbolt," he assured the Autobot. "I’ve already seen the Virus; I already know about it."

Rodimus’ voice rang clear and firm, "when everyone’s done staring at the pretty picture, we’ll get things underway. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to watch Void TV all day. If that’s so, I can arrange it."

Galvatron and Cyclonus scrutinized the Autobot leader whose orange-red pigment greyed into muddied tones. Rodimus’ optics also clouded with a momentary swirl of darkness. Behind him, Magnus scowled, disquiet and uneasy. Galvatron crossed optics with Cyclonus and he nodded ever so subtly toward Prime. Cyclonus dropped his gaze then lifted his chin once toward the sky, indicating he understood.

Rodimus organized the assembly into a wide circle. A human-sized burial mound lay at the center. The single grave sent chills down Galvatron’s infastructural rod. He watched as Rodimus studied each person like a possessed drill instructor, weighing their attitudes by pose and poise. "So glad everybody could come to class today, Boys and Ladies." the Autobot leader said, "I do so love looking at your cheerful, intelligent faces."

Rodimus’ expression remained solid, vacant like that of a dead mechanism. He produced a small digipad and read it in perfect painful monotone. "Jamel Helser, captain of the Dancing Siren. We commit you to the arms of the universe. We, left behind in the light of life, may one day follow you. But for now, we shall take your memory with us where ever we go, however we get there. Peace for you, sweet Jamel. Peace for your family. Peace, peace. Blah, blah, blah. Mags?"

Ultra Magnus stepped forward. The fingers on his right hand twitched. "We’re here to officially welcome Monsterbot Grotesque to the Dancing Siren’s captain’s chair-"

Rodimus stepped in front of Magnus, arms open wide, "Serious congrats, Grotesque! Let’s hope you last longer than Jamel. And I seriously hope I will not have to come aboard your vessel to deal with your crew! Good ‘nuff? Great! Let’s move on to the next item on our short list of stuff!"

Magnus leaned forward and glared at Rodimus. The Autobot leader glared back as they argued over an internal conversation. Magnus stood straight, stepped back and carefully concealed his expression. But he did not fool Galvatron. Someone won a vicious argument and it was not the Major-general.

Dogfight and Velocity landed just outside the group. They transformed and held Redial between them and Galvatron put the pieces together. The communications officer did not struggle against the shackles and energy chains holding him at Rodimus’ mercy. His optics retained a sense of martyr’s pride and unmoved determination. At Prime’s cue, the two fliers brought the accused into the circle and left him to face Rodimus and Magnus.

Kup dared a step forward, his face narrow with concern: "what’s this about, Rodimus? What’s going on?"

Rodimus smiled. "I’m so glad you asked, Kup! I’m about to educate everyone, here." he lifted his voice to make sure all the captains heard him clearly. "We are out in the desert of space. No aid has come to us, no aid has been offered to rescue Earth from the Quintessons. And rather than working together as a free, if struggling assembly of refugees, we are torn apart and undermined by a few. Do not think for a partial second that Optimus and I have not known those things kept quietly in the dark! You Paratrons were welcomed into our society when yours collapsed. While many of you have embraced the life and culture of your ancestors, there are those among you who have rejected and objected the culture, laws and mores of your Autobot fellows."

Rodimus paused and scanned all the grim faces around him. He ignored the look of hate and disgust plastered on Redial’s countenance and continued. "This is a warning for anyone else who’s thinking about insubordination. This is to let everyone know that we won’t tolerate treachery."

Rodimus produced his weapon from subspace and shot Redial in the face. He waited while the communications officer screamed in pain, fell to his knees and heaved in agony. Rodimus shot him again in the chest. Again in the head. Again in the mid-section. Again in the back of the head.

"Rodimus!" Magnus called, "Stop! That’s enough!"

"Enough?" Rodimus challenged. "ENOUGH? THAT’S ENOUGH?! Is there enough life? Is there enough blood? Is there enough death? Life! Death! Unlife! All the same! One goes, the other comes. All the same!"

Magnus shook his head in disbelief and remorse. Galvatron watched as the Major-general drew his own weapon and shifted settings. Kup, Quasar, Hotspot and Silverbolt stepped out of range. Galvatron glanced at Cyclonus; the communication between them silent. "Magnus," Galvatron warned, "don’t do anything stupid."

Prime spun around and grinned at Galvatron. Darkness swirled in his optics like oil on water. Rodimus spoke with a heavy reverb in his voice: "Not forgotten. Son of Zh’Xn... stand clear."

Galvatron stared into the eyes of a monster and did not flinch. "Make me," he dared.

Ultra Magnus and Cyclonus both dropped their faces into their hands.

Rodimus threw the first kick and clipped Galvatron on the chin. The Decepticon sailed away and the infected Autobot leader pounced after him, leaping on all fours like a lion. They tangled and rolled along the rocky landscape. Rodimus banged his side against the Siren’s docking clamps. Galvatron scrambled around and caught Rodimus in a headlock.

"MAGNUS! GET THEM OUT OF HERE! LOCK EVERYTHING DOWN AND GET ME SOMETHING TO TIE HIM UP WITH!" Rodimus squirmed and writhed in Galvatron’s grasp. He hissed and snarled, threw his legs out for purchase and searched blindly for Galvatron’s face.

Most of the staff did as suggested. Cyclonus and Kup remained while Magnus made a running start and transformed. He boomed orders on every channel.

Rodimus-Void slowly settled down. From thrashing and squirming he rested then resisted, rested then resisted. Galvatron spoke and kept his voice even. "Had enough yet?"

"YOU CONCERN US NOT, DECEPTICON. WE FEED ON OTHER THINGS."

"And I’ll bet they’re all yummy, too. So, what have you been up to... Void? Hm?" He watched Roddi’s fists open and close and wondered what was happening to Optimus Prime. Rodimus arched his back but could not escape Galvatron’s grip.

The Autobot twitched and watched as Cyclonus and Kup approached a step or two at a time. "Sssss. Ssssss... nnnn. Ssssnnnnn. DIFFICULT NAME. NOT LIKE... OPTIMUSSSS. NOT LIKE RODIMUSSS. Sssssnnnnn. Ssssss."

Kup pointed to Rodimus. "What’s he talking about?"

Galvatron shook his head. "I don’t know. Oh, Void," he sang, "what’s on the menu right now? What have you been doing? I mean, before you made an overkill on Redial?"

"WASTE."

"Well, that’s not very nice," Galvatron admonished in a cheerful voice. "He was only a Paratron."

Rodimus moaned and relaxed in Galvatron’s grip. "Ssss... teeee." he breathed out then in. "GIRL."

Galvatron huffed, a little annoyed. Kup smiled and shook his head. "Ehh. You’ll drive yourself in a hairpin tryin’ t’ figure the clankin’ tread-spew the Virus calls a brain."

"It doesn’t have a brain," Cyclonus objected. "It is a virus. It acts according to a program, nothing more."

"Izzat so?" Kup challenged. "Ya weren’t with us couple years back when that abominable freak first appeared, Cyclonus. The only thing that stood between Magnus, me an’ smelting the Primes’ infected cabooses was that little girl."

"Rusti?" Cyclonus inquired with a low voice. Kup shot him a quick look, an expression that told the Decepticon lieutenant how the old-model Autobot still harbored unspoken fears. "How does she fit into the equation?"

The young woman’s name elicited a reaction from Rodimus and he bucked. It broke Galvatron’s hold and the Virus rolled, pinned Galvatron down and hissed. Rodimus’ mandible dropped unnaturally long and large metal teeth emerged.

It took Galvatron .045 seconds to recover from shock and he gave Rodimus-Void a right cross. Cyclonus produced his weapon but Galvatron held a hand against it.

"Do not shoot it!" Galvatron ordered.

"That’s right," Kup agreed. "You have to give that gasket bustin’ thing long enough a moment so it can kill and eat him." the Vertical Horizon’s captain did not meet Cyclonus’ razor-sharp glare.

Rodimus abruptly laughed. The teeth disappeared. But Galvatron decided the manic smile was worse than the teeth. "I’m not going to like this, am I?"

The two of them sank straight into the ground as though sucked through an invisible straw.

Kup and Cyclonus gasped in shock. Before either of them conjured another thought, Autobot femme Velocity flew to their area, dropped and transformed. She brought with her two pairs of manacles and an energy chain. Upon finding only Kup and Cyclonus, she glanced around. "Wh-where did everybody go?"

*****

"Into thin air!" First Aid answered Magnus’ similar question. "The Pitt if I know what happened to Optimus Prime! Rusti said she didn’t feel or see him leave. He’s just GONE."

"That is not possible," Magnus half-growled. "You cannot cause the physical properties of mass and density to just disappear."

The medic lowered his head, his visor flared. "Do I look like I know anything about quantum dimensional physics to you? I can’t help you, Magnus. I have every hand at my disposal so we can repair our wounded and get the flaming Pitt off this rock! Have you ANY idea what’s been going on?"

Magnus tucked his anger away. "I’m sorry, First Aid. I’ve been dealing with other matters-"

"Voices," the Autobot doctor answered. "Every one has been hearing voices and seeing things; movement in the air or faces in the monitors... things are showing up in the scanning equipment." First Aid bowed over as he received a message over his internal comline. "I have to go. Something about Sunstreaker again."

Magnus tilted his head. "Sun... Sssss...nnn." he put it together and the facts hit him like an engine block slipping from a crane. "I’m coming, too."

*****

Birds appeared on the wall before Sunny. Little half-made M’s that resembled birds flying afar; little scribbles like those in a child’s drawing. Sunstreaker never really thought much of birds except to bristle about their droppings. He admitted to no one but his brother how he liked to use them for target practice. Little ones, big ones... they all did one thing: drop their bombs on his paint job.

"Sunny!" the birds called in little voices, "Sunny! We see you!"

"Me too," Sunstreaker mumbled. "Don’t expect me to like you. You’re laughing at me."

"You look funny. Your leg is broke. Your mind is long gone. What have you done, Sunny? Whose rules did you break now?"

Sunstreaker shrugged. His ugly bare-bones shoulder strut softly squeaked and moaned with movement. "Optimus’? Rodimus’? Magnus’? All the same. It don’t matter."

One sketchy bird flapped its wings. Its scribbled body grew; lines writhed around the central shape and Sunstreaker watched the detail refine itself. A simple M-shape spread into feathered wings. A head not there before emerged from between them. The bird flew off the wall and alighted on the floor before the misshapen Autobot. "It CAN’T matter, you battered, misaligned, outdated, water-based freak!" it scolded. "Look at you. You’re ugly! You’re stupid because you’re ugly. You’re worthless because you’re ugly. You’re not a person anymore, Sunstreaker. You have no value, no talent. You can’t smile. You don’t shine. You have no symmetry. You’re disgusting. You’re just as worthless as one of those Earthen fat ladies who look more like spheres with legs. Except with you, you’re just a collection of clanking junk. Nobody likes them and nobody likes you."

"That’s not really true," Sunstreaker denied.

"Oh it isn’t?" the bird challenged. "As I recall, you said many of the same things about Ambassador Raeshantzanshap of Y’dor. Not that Ultra Magnus ever knew or heard about that. One of your little secrets, eh, Sunstreaker? Better to be copper-top than a whopper-slop. Isn’t that what you say? Well, if anyone in Ft. Sagittarius heard that, they’d call you foppish, you arrogant, worthless nothing! And now you wish you could take back every mean, thoughtless thing you ever said to or about other people? Too late, Sunstreaker! Cuz now, you’re one of them. Oh, you may not be round or rotund, but you’re still a whopper-slop. Hope it makes you happy."

"Well, it doesn’t. I hope that makes you happy."

The bird frowned. "So what do you plan to do about it? What will you do about your brother? Clearly he’s laughing and gossiping about you behind your back."

"He needs to die," Sunstreaker muttered.

"Does he now? You think a single drop of spilt energon will make you all better? Slap a Band-Aid on it and call it good."

"No." Sunstreaker hated how his mandible squeaked when he talked. He hated how his body made so much noise when he moved. He hated his body. "I’m just waiting."

"Yes, of course," the bird agreed. "You’re waiting for it all to end. Poor little Streaker. Could you be any more miserable?"

Sunstreaker sighed as an alien dog approached. Its long snaky tail waved back and forth. It did not pant, per se, but it did have a forked black tongue. Sunny smiled as it approached. The bird huffed and stepped aside.

"Peckish fiend," the bird scoffed at the dog. "You’re always angling for attention. Haven’t you any self respect? I was here first!"

But the solid black alien dog paid the bird no mind. It rubbed its triangular head against Sunny’s arm and the Autobot thought it cute. He laid a hand on the length of its head and wondered how the thing managed to see without eyes. When the creature rubbed against him like a cat, Sunstreaker decided it didn’t matter whether or not the little dog had eyes. After all, it was friendly and Streaker liked friendly things. And the dog certainly did not care whether or not Sunny was ugly as a Vegan twigfish.

The bird’s jealousy eyed with intent.

Sunny stared at the bird while the doggie cleaned itself like a cat. The bird. Black and feathery. But the feathers disembodied. All the light died on their surface.

Sunny tried to clear his head of the fragmented thoughts.

They keep coming. Little thoughts that start and break off. Nouns or verbs. But they can’t come together anymore.

The doggie licked Sunny’s hand with its long forked tongue.

It hurt.

Hurt. Scrape. Bleed. Scrape. Hurt.

He just sat there, confused. The bird. That watchful eye. It knew. All three sat. All three quiet. Still. Sunny thought.

Something was happening to him.

His meta processor melted at the point of each new thought.

He was.

No, really. He was. He was lots of things. He was a cad.

Sunny winced. Void-VOID?? NO! He was not Void! Don’t be absurd! No, the dog licked his arm and Sunstreaker let it continue in spite of the painful sensation. It made him dizzy.

The bird clucked. Not quite like a chicken, but it clucked and twittered and it blurred in scribbles as though it were difficult to maintain its form in the present reality because it was not real. The bird came from the wall and things that come from the wall are not real.

"Know your name! Know your name!" it chanted.

"No you don’t," Sunstreaker answered the stupid bird. "You don’t know nothing."

"Sssssss." the doggie hissed at the bird. "Sssssss." That black forked tongue flickered. "Sssnnnn."

"Don’t talk to me like that," the bird admonished. "You’re supposed to be on my side."

"No, he doesn’t," Sunstreaker objected. "You have no friends or allies. You’re just an ass."

The bird cackled. "Rodimus said so, too. Rodimus doesn’t like me and Optimus won’t play games. He doesn’t like the games."

"I don’t really care," Sunny said. His voice dipped into the grogginesses of sleep. He thought it over, drunk with exhaustion and an ache he could not identify. "I don’t," a lazy smile crept over his expression. "I don’t care. Cuz if I did, I’m sure you two wouldn’t be here. So..." his voice dropped to a whisper: "I don’t care."

Sideswipe’s voice leaked through the hallucination and Sunny was lifted off the floor and dragged away. "Yeah you do," Sides kept his voice cheerful but calm. "You care. You’re just not willing to admit it. You’re always like that."

"Not no more," Sunstreaker objected weakly. "See, I’ve talked to the fraggin’ bird and it’s done nothing but call me names."

Sideswipe held his words a moment. "Sunny, bro, there was nobody in there but you. You... uh... well, never mind. They said t’ bring you out so they can fix that leg a’ yours. Remember? You have a little scratch there." Sideswipe searched his brother’s optics for recognition. "Hey, you with me, bro?" he called. Sunstreaker just stared into nothing as though his mind locked itself somewhere far away.

Sideswipe forced on a smile and lapping Sunny’s arm across his shoulder line, Sideswipe inched them down the empty hall and into the quieter section of the Spiral Star. With Sunstreaker’s unpredictable nature, First Aid ordered him back on the ship so as not to disrupt work in the outpost’s science and medical building.

Sideswipe resented that First Aid put his brother on some back burner. Although he knew First Aid could do little for Sunny’s body or state of mind, it ticked him off how they stored Sunstreaker’s condition into a proverbial closet. On the other hand, Sideswipe continued to deny his brother’s slow death.

Perigee welcomed the twins into a small sterile room and pointed to the clean exam table. She waited while Sideswipe guided his clueless brother onto the table then held him there until Sunstreaker understood he had to remain seated. Perigee scanned Sunny’s damaged leg up and down. "How did he do this again?"

Sideswipe shook his head. "You’d not believe me, Peri. I saw it and I still don’t think it really happened."

She gracefully knelt in front of Sideswipe’s injured brother and swabbed the broken support rod. "What? You mean you don’t believe it happened, or that you can’t believe it did?"

"The second one."

Perigee ran the test swab through a machine. While waiting for results, she examined Sunny’s right arm. "What happened here?" she carefully lifted the arm and hand. V-shaped metal etchings left deep grooves in Sunny’s arm and hand. Some of the grooves bled. Sideswipe shook his head, clueless.

Without making a fuss, Perigee opened a cupboard and produced a small vial and a hand towel. From the vial she poured a precious amount of silver-copper liquid and caught the excess on the towel. As she wrapped the wounds, the test results arrived with a soft beep. The femme gave Sunny a final look into his optics before reclaiming the swab. "Has your brother been sleeping at all, Sideswipe?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"Has he been eating?" Sides shrugged. "What does that mean?" Perigee eyed Sunny’s brother with a measure of concern.

"Yeah, he eats a little, but not as much as he should."

"And his depression levels?"

"I don’t know. I just know that he acts weird and, as you already know, he does weird things. He says stuff that kinda creeps me out."

Perigee measured the break in Sunny’s leg. She grimaced and sighed. "It’s a clean break but I can’t replace the rod just yet. I’ll have to see if someone can make a new molding. I’ll have to plate-and-screw the break but it means, Sunstreaker, that you cannot do anything physically exerting. You walk. Do not run. No physical therapy."

Sunny bobbed his head as though listening to music. "Walk, don’t run. Walk. Don’t run. Walk. Walk." he tilted his head in a smile. "Sideswipe runs. If he doesn’t he will. Run, run as fast as you can. Hee hee."

Perigee firmly pushed him down and fastened a thick strap across his chest and upper arms. "This is just to keep you still, Sunny. Alright?"

"Am I still? Am I still what?"

Sideswipe folded his arms and scowled. "Just don’t move, you idiot," he berated.

Perigee moved as efficiently as a brand new bearing. She deftly drilled both sides and both ends of the break, gently added a specialized shock absorber and sealed it solid. They waited ten minutes then she applied a set of plates on either side of the rod and screwed them in. Perigee secured the plates with wingnuts and welded them for good measure.

"Alright, Sunny let’s sit you up here." She undid the strap, unlocked the flat and brought her patient to a sitting position. Sunstreaker wiggled his aft to get down but she restrained him.

A dark swirl wafted across his optics. "Let me go, Perigee."

"Not until I have scanned the patch, Sunstreaker. Then you can go." Perigee hid her fear when she heard Sideswipe’s brother growl softly. The door opened and Doublecross entered with an easygoing smile. She leaned in the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Heya, boys. I found the sweetest video game on the Trench Driver. You two up for a game?"

Perigee scanned her work for air pockets or cracks. Sunny’s patch reported clean and in working condition. She smiled and stepped aside. "Done," she declared.

"Awesome!" Sideswipe clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "How about a good draught, a few games and some laughs?"

Sunstreaker slipped off the flat and stretched his ‘railroad’ frame. "You make a good sister, Crossy," he said. Sunny led the way out as Doublecross and Sideswipe exchanged a slightly puzzled expression. Crossy shrugged it off with a shake of her head. A compliment was a compliment no matter who gave it. Sideswipe pushed his smile upward. He liked what Sunny said but it wasn’t normally Sunny’s MO to be that nice.

*********

Jazz’s ship, the Trench Driver, welcomed the twins and Doublecross to an array of ‘chill-outs’. Several spacious video rooms offered a number of movies-some of which were merely home-made by those who had not much else to do with their time. Music, munchies and games filled other rooms. Even citizens and off-duty EDC staff occupied the ship’s second level. Jazz didn’t care what people did on his ship so long as it wasn’t illegal, messy or violent.

The twins and their surrogate sister spent three and a half joyful hours competing in an RPG hunting game. Sunny laughed manically as he purposefully shot his teammates.

One shot too many had Sideswipe slamming the control to the floor and on his feet. "DAMMIT, Sunny, what the Pitt’s wrong with you? QUIT KILLING ME!"

Crossy sighed. "It’s just a game, Sideswipe."

"I’m sick and tired of having to start over! Knock it off!"

Sunny tilted his head, optics on his infuriated brother. "Poor Sideswipe. Doesn’t know how to deal with death."

"Shut up!" Sides snarled. He threw his hands in the air. "I’m taking a break. I’ll be right back."

Sunstreaker watched his brother leave the room before turning to Doublecross. She took a small sip from her glass and rearranged her character’s setup. "Tell me, Crossy," Sunny said smoothly. "Do you know how to deal with death?"

She forced a smirk. "Yeah, dummy. It’s call ‘reset’. Although, I’m not exactly happy having to pick a new character each game, Sunny."

"No. I mean real death. I mean the stuff that makes you tremble because it’s unknown. It’s that... dark spot in everyone’s mind that forces the question: will I cease to exist entirely?"

She gazed at him out the corners of her optics. A frown immobilized her lip components. "I’m not in the mood for a philosophical debate, Sunny. Not today."

"But you still wonder," he pressed. "You still look at the stars and question. You wonder if Primus really does gather his children after death. You wonder if maybe some of the Human religions are more correct than our own ancient beliefs. You wonder."

"Not now, Sunny," she said firmly. "Okay? I just want to enjoy today."

Sideswipe returned and poked his head past the doorway. "Hey, Sunny? You hungry?"

Sunstreaker’s optics lit brightly and he twisted round in the seat. "Always hungry. Never unhungry. We hunt for food and then hunt to hunt. Gots us something...ssss...sssss...iiipe?"

Doublecross and Sideswipe met one another’s optics but Sideswipe kept his game face on. "I got your most fave, Sunny. Um, I was lucky enough to grab it before that chump Repugnus got his greasy claws on it." Sideswipe entered the room with a tray and sat next to his brother. He popped a glowing disc in his mouth and smiled. "Can’t believe someone would think enough ahead to make sure we had something good in the rations department."

Sunstreaker plucked up a disc and stared at it as though he’d never seen anything like it before. "What’s it? Why’s it good?"

Sideswipe snorted. "I don’t know. You just like it. Just eat it, will you, Sunny?"

Sunstreaker stared at the light green energon goody and devoured it in one gulp. His face plate wiggled left to right, left to right before he plucked up a second one, repeating the process. "Tastes funny."

"You’re funny," Sideswipe grunted. He picked up his game controller and brought up a new character for the next game. He decided not to bitch since his brother ate one goody after another. After all, Sunny didn’t eat as much as he should and all too often coughed up what he did.

Sunstreaker polished everything off the tray just as Sideswipe finished his character’s specs. Sideswipe settled back and prepared for another game of ‘avoid the cheater’. "Okay, Sunny. I’m ready."

"Ready?" Sunstreaker piped. "Ready for another hunt?"

"Yes," the other twin snarled. "I’m ready for you to kick my aft into another game."

Sides and Crossy watched in muted surprise when Sunny flipped over the seat and danced his way to better footing. He spun once, arms wide open. "The hunt!"

Doublecross set her game control down and stood, hands on hips. "Sunny, if you’re not interested in playing the game we’ll take you back to your quarters."

"No," Sunstreaker objected. "I’m going to play with Rodimus. You do not play good."

Sideswipe frowned. "Okay. Well, you can’t play with Rodimus. He’s busy."

"Can too," Sunny sulked. "I even know where he is. So I’m leaving. Good-bye." he approached the door but his brother snapped to his feet, weapon in hand, charged and aimed.

"Sunstreaker, don’t you even think about walking out of this room! Touch that door and you’ll end up flat on your backside with a fraggin’ headache from the Pitt." Crossy stood too and made sure she could grab her weapon in a second’s breath. They watched Sideswipe’s brother hesitate then rotate to face them. His optics, black, glowed an icy blue at the very edges.

"Not go?" Sunny asked in a childlike voice. "No permission to leave?"

"No, Sunny," Sideswipe said in gentler tones. "I’m sorry. But Perigee said you cannot be on your leg. Remember? Just come back down here and play another game."

Sunstreaker leaned over, shoulders hunched. He tilted his head like a confused animal while his body sank on all fours. "Not play with Rodimus? Not play with Optimus? You said eat. We ated. You said to game. Yes, we gamed. We gamed long time. Now we hunt."

Crossy covered her mouth. "Oh Primus!" she wailed.

Sunstreaker’s legs snapped out of joint. They grew long and slender and added a triple-joint like that of a spider.