"So, you're going on leave," Ratchet said with all the concern of a shopper checking a grocery list. "Did you give any thought to energy reserves and recharge?"

"Parking lots. There's plenty of them."

"And the former?"

Ironhide glared at him. "You know why I'm going in the first place. I don't have to say it."

"Which is exactly why I'm mentioning it. If I know you, you won't rest regularly. I have an idea for a modification that could let you avoid that inconvenience. Ratchet smiled, but the warrior appeared uncertain.

"What are you going to modify?"

For all his optimism a second before, Ratchet flashed a reluctant look. "Your cannons."

Ironhide took a guess. "So they'll absorb outside energy to power them, rather than take energy from me?"

The medic shook his head. "No. They will become energy absorbers for you, and no longer be weapons."

Ironhide gaped at him, vacillating between outrage and shock at being purposely bereft of weapons.

Ratchet put a hand on his shoulder. "You are out to remove that side of yourself, are you not?"

Ironhide slowly cycled some air out, his gaze lowering to his left arm. Then he nodded. "But such an integral part of my systems... what impact will that have?" He looked up again, his tone serious.

"To your systems, very little. To your reflexes, probably more -- but only if you cannot control the urge to shoot something. But, again, that isn't your purpose." Ratchet paused. "But if you do come across anything suspicious, report in to either of our bases or to Epps."

"Of course. But what if I have absolutely no choice but to get involved?"

"Then you make sure it does not come to that," Ratchet said grimly. "Worst case, you will still have your strength. I can also reverse the process when you return, if you decide you want to be so armed by then." He waited patiently, fully expecting an angry protest to kick in at any time.

To his surprise, Ironhide sat down on the near workbench, clasping his hands in his lap although feeling over his knuckle joints a second later. "Explain it to me."

Ratchet slowly sat down beside him. "You really are serious about this, aren't you?"

"With all my spark. What of it there is, anyway."

~*~

A day and a half later Ratchet was at his usual post in the med bay going over a scheduled upgrade for Rhythm and Blues when Chromia walked in. "You wanted to see me, Ratchet?"

"Yes." He smiled over at her. "I merely wanted to thank you in person for being such a good influence on our weapons specialist."

Chromia stared warily back at him. "And what does that mean?"

"He and I had a civil conversation about converting his weapons fora more mundane purpose."

She stalked across the floor until she stood over him, hands on her hips. "So it was your idea? Did you think at all about how much you just cost us in offensive capabilities?! This isn't the time to be disarming ourselves!"

Ratchet lifted a brow ridge in response to her vehement tone. "It was ultimately his decision, you know."

She huffed. "You should have known better, Ratchet! How do you expect to reverse it if he's halfway across the country from you? Of if there is a battle, and how quickly you could reverse it? Besides, he is only going on leave, not retiring!" She was leaning over and glaring right into his optics by the end, her fury plain on her face.

Ratchet kept his gaze steady, not giving in to her rage. "It was his decision," he repeated quietly. "Have you spoken to him in epth about it? Obviously you found out about the modification. He is doing this for you, after all."

Her optics darkened as she stepped back, then she scowled, growling, "I didn't ask him to do anything like this."

"He is doing what he thinks is right," Ratchet said, quieter still. "This is what he can do, what he thinks can solve certain...issues."

"He -- he doesn't need to do it. We will be fine..." Chromia finally revealed her own uncertainty.

Ratchet stood, keeping close to her instead of moving to where there was more space, and clasped her upper arms. "It is worth a try, Chromia. I do not have any medical advice I can give either of you -- no one ever took the time before the war to study this because there was no need to, and when everything went to the pit, well, no one had time to study the long term effects of spark scars. I know how to keep one from going offline, but I do not know how to seal the gaps."

She heaved a sigh and gazed at the floor. "That doesn't change anything about he and I. It...It is not important that we could..." Her voice trailed off and she cycled air loudly in resignation.

Ratchet watched her, silent, letting her take her time with her thoughts. He had said all he could on the matter and now was ready to be a supportive friend.

Chromia's features began to take the form of another scowl. "Still...you did not have to ruin his cannons. What was wrong with an energy-gathering pack?" She removed his hands from her arms, her optics narrowed, and then turned and stalked out of the bay.

The medic sighed. "I thought he would be the most annoyed, but she is instead. They never cease to fascinate me."

"They are like Yin and Yang," commented Thundercracker as he stepped out from the back of the bay.

"Pardon?"

"One of the subgroups of humans believe in a pattern they call 'yin' and 'yang'. Light and dark. Heaven and Earth. Positive and negative. Fire and water. Male and female. They are opposites but always in balance with one another." The Neutral leaned his hands on the table, gazing toward the doorway. "Ideally, to these particular humans, it represents perfect harmony."

Ratchet regarded the empty doorway. "Hmm. Between the two of them, perhaps, but not the rest of us."

"You expected an argument, did you not? Now that you have received one, you feel more comfortable -- more in tune, more balanced -- about the situation."

Ratchet turned to study him, looking him over with approval. "You are becoming quite the philosopher. Is this information gathered as a hobby, or is human culture providing some insights?"

Thundercracker shrugged, trying to appear non-chalant. "All culture is insightful. I have been reading accounts from various planets thanks to the access you gave me to your files."

"I am pleased to hear it was of use to you. Tell me, how would you like to begin training as my assistant?"

Thundercracker blinked at the abrupt change of subject, then hunched his shoulders. "I don't know. Would being your assistant not make me an Autobot, compromising my claim of neutrality?"

Ratchet shook his head. "You do not need an allegiance to become a healer. All you have to do is care about life. You can think about it if you want, I am not in a rush. How about for now you tell me more about that 'Heaven and Earth' concept?"

~*~

For all the activity in Tidal Wave's cargo area-turned-repair bay, it was astonishingly quiet. None of the usual discussions amongst the Constructicons about the best ways to do things were being carried out. Hook had made the plans based on their resources and everyone was following it to the letter. Megatron's melted and dismembered body lay spread across the floor with piles of spare parts nearby, slowly being converted and adapted to replace the Decepticon leader's arm and leg. His chest had been a tricky matter. Hook had removed the main surviving components of it and was working on it seperately elsewhere by himself.

Naturally, Soundwave was the only one to have access to the room. He watched Hook working diligently through a tiny monitor on his wrist. He would not risk anyone coming into the comm room to see the progress.

The sound of banging metal and an angry shriek made him flick the cover over the screen and turn around. He gazed at the two small mechanoids who entered the room.

"You call THIS an upgrade?!" Rumble demanded, gesturing -- rudely -- at the slightly taller and much more chunky Frenzy 2.0. "He don't even transform into anything anymore!" Frenzy let out a garbled cry. "And I can't understand a word he says! What language is that supposed to be?! Even English would be better! Whatever happened to plain Cybertronese?"

Frenzy uttered what sounded like an electronic burp.

Soundwave calmly watched them both. "Submit to an upgrade, then you will understand."

"So what about the rest 'a yas? Or can you understand him!?"

The light behind Soundwave's visor narrowed to a thin line.

"Oh, yeah, look who I'm talkin' to." Rumble shrugged, rolling his upper optical cameras. "Still don't help me."

"Submit to the upgrade."

Rumble pointed to the screen behind Soundwave that showed the whole repair bay. "The builder boys seem kinda busy right now. I don't wanna end up like Dirge, hangin' around 'til someone remembers he's got his inner housin' showin'. An' his armor melted off. An' a pathological fear'a cannons. Good job there."

Frenzy smacked Rumble in the back of the head. Rumble's optics flashed in warning, then he jumped the other mech. They went tumbling across the floor in a pile of sharp edges and flailing multiple limbs. Soundwave put one foot out to stop them -- by halting them in place under his heel and slowly lowering the rest of his foot. Frenzy disentangled his four arms and scrambled away.

"Rumble, you will cooperate."

With his head pinned to thefloor, the small mech could do nothing but growl out, "Yeah, fine. Sooooorry."

Sundwave let him up. "You have no reason to be concerned. Your upgrade was a natural assumption given Frenzy two-point-oh."

"I just wanna know the plan first. What're we gonna do with this mudball planet?"

"Wait."

"For what?! I don't think even Megatron is gonna want it for anything. We should just blow it up. No one's gonna miss it." Rumble walked around as he talked, avoiding both Frenzy and Soundwave's foot.

"It will be Lord Megatron's decision." The comms officer emphasized their leader's title.

"Yeah, if he can be brought back."

"Correction: when."

"Mighty positive thinkin'. Did you see that hole in his chest? Must'a burned his spark up on contact. I'm as loyal to Megatron as the next Decepticon, but, c'mon, you can't deny he got thrashed." Rumble walked behind a console in case someone decided he needed to be shot. The thought wasn't going to stop him from voicing his thoughts. "An' you know Starscream ain't gonna be happy to find out what we've been doin'."

The small mech went stock still, as did Frenzy, when Soundwave began to laugh. It was made all the more chilling by the echo from his battle mask. It was also his only response to Rumble's last comment.

Fortunately for Rumble one of the monitors switched to a comm window displaying Hook's face. "Soundwave, I need you in the primary bay."

"Acknowledged," the comms officer replied with no hint of his former amusement. He cast a sharp glance at Rumble, then headed for the elevator. As soon as he was gone Frenzy grabbed Rumble in a headlock and began to press against his eyestalks, pushing them in the only direction they couldn't go.

"Get off, you freak!!"

Frenzy kept his hold, snarling for a moment, then speaking clearly. "Autobots have key and the power. You need power, and we need key." He abruptly released his hold.

Rumble threw off the four arms as soon as Frenzy's grip began to loosen. He backed away, hissing, raising his own arms for an attack. He checked himself. "Don't start with that 'key' nonsense. That was already a bust. An' the Autobots ain't got no real power. As for me..." His optics flashed dangerously. "I just need that shell rebuilt. Y'know, something that don't put my spark on the line." He straightened his frame, trying to utilize every strut to gain height. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"I have...plaaaaannss."

Rumble's multiple optics darkened to a reddish-purple. "Now wait a sec! There ain't no way you could go behind Soundwave's back, so don't you mean he has plans?"

"Do you want to end up like Scorponok?"

Rumble draw back at the implications, then narrowed both main pairs of optics. "Is this a test'a my loyalty? 'Cause if it is, you better shut up now. Like I'd be stupid enough to cross anyone around here!"

Frenzy laughed, a mad giggle. "Don't worry, brother. I merely want you to pay attention."

~*~

Soundwave entered the small workroom that Hook had designated as "primary", his attention immediately drawn to a screen with a radar-like reading on it -- except the center was the only image updated as it blipped. He took a moment to study the irregularities in the circle's edge. He also emitted a subtle jamming signal that would distort any conversation despite how the room was already secured against eavesdropping. "His spark -- it is still online?"

Hook, standing by the open spark chamber on the table, gave him a sideways look. "You doubted?"

"No. I merely expected complete stasis, but the activity here illustrates otherwise." He pointed to the uneven outline of the circle, then watched as the update traced the contour of a round bulge. Soundwave peered over at Hook. "Abnormality detected."

"His spark is online -- or, something is online." They traded quick glances, knowing of Megatron's forbidden habit. "I have not come to an absolute conclusion yet. So far it appears that his will is prevailing. I am certain the anomylies are going to be put down by the time I finish repairs."

Soundwave nodded, looking over the exposed but barrier-protected spark chamber before turning to look at the discarded casing beside the table. He felt a sense of awe at the destructive power of the Allspark. Yet, it was clear that the power could not have been harnessed in the end, for it destroyed the Cube itself. A shame. To find an enemy in such condition...

He paused and recalled the image of Megatron when they had first pulled him from the water. The Cube, so important in giving life, had taken it from the great Decepticon leader. It was a waste of the Allspark's energy, and a loss that would have repercussions -- disregarding that it could be reversed. With Megatron's spark still functional all they need was a shell. A worthy shell.

The monitor beeped a long, low alert as it recorded another bulge. This one was larger than the last. Hook muttered something and rushed to the opposite side of the spark chamber. Soundwave turned and watched with the surgeon as the spark within brightened to white, a jagged section rising and pressing up against the stasis barrier. Hook made some adjustments. The barrier went from blue to red as the spark surge continued to push at it.

Soundwave took a large step backward but Hook was too busy to notice the other mech's open shock. There were shapes and moving dark spots within the energy surge. Soundwave watched, fascinated and horrified. He almost lost control of his nerves when the straining shape twisted and looked at him. But his visor and battle mask allowed him to glare impassively back at it.

The barrier flashed brightly and in that second the bulge receded. Once the spark was smooth again the barrier went back to blue. Hook and Soundwave looked at each other silently until the Constructicon circled the table to input data on the console behind Soundwave. Once there he hissed, "Not a word of this outside of this room!"

Soundwave nodded. Hook's own shock was evident, for he normally would know the communications officer was the best Decepticon to keep secrets and the warning need not have been spoken. He would remain unaware that Soundwave had recorded the entire incident.

"His will shall prevail," Hook murmured. His attention became rivetted to a readout scrolling on the screen in front of him. Soundwave followed it for several moments before leaving the technicalities to Hook. He understood enough to know that things would go horribly wrong depending on the conditions when Megatron's spark was placed in his new body.

"Certain measures must be taken," Soundwave said with authority. "We will ensure the direction he takes."

Hook paused to glance at him. "We do have a spark to spare."

Soundwave nodded again. "Not a word outside of this room."

"What about Motormaster? He will certainly notice if..."

"Leave him to me."

"Acknowledged." The contention among the higher officers was none of Hook's concern, but it made his job all the more important. He was fine with that.

"Are there any other details you wish to inform me of?" Soundwave flicked a glance toward the rest of the equipment.

"Not at the moment. I will send you updates on this situation, as well as the progress made by the others." Soundwave gave one more nod, closing down his jamming signal. He stepped out of the room, waiting for the door to lock before walking down the short corridor to the main cargo hold. There he made recordings of the current progress and doings of the other Constructicons on his way out.

~*~

"Nice night."

Chromia looked for the source of the voice, wondering why Broadcast was in the guard tower at that time of the evening. Not seeing him right away, she returned her attention to the junkyard. "Something I can help you with, Broadcast?"

He jumped down from the narrow overhead rafter. She had expected him to pop up anywhere and was not surprised when he landed on her shoulder. "Nah. Just wanted to take in some night air from a good view."

"I am not a viewing platform." She twisted her head to eye him.

"'Course not. But you look like you could use some company." He smiled.

Chromia looked straight ahead again. "Actually, no. I would prefer to be alone."

"I'm thinkin' otherwise."

She shifted slightly. "Broadcast, do you see that tree there?" She pointed to a shadow at the other side of the junkyard.

"Yeah, why?"

"Would you like to be wrapped around it? Because I can easily arrange that from here."

Broadcast leaned over far enough to pat her upper arm. "Easy, Lady C. I didn't mean any offense."

She grunted. "No. You are being nosy, just like everyone else! First Ratchet, now you -- mind your own business!"

"Hey, don't forget Arcee. She knows, too."

"Hn." She rotated her shoulder joint, almost jarring him loose.

Broadcast leaned back, casually hooking his fingers under her shoulder plate to keep his perch. "Y'sure you don't wanna talk?"

"Very."

"Okay," he replied in a smooth croon. "S'up to you lady-lady. Sometimes it's all right to just enjoy the quiet night."

"Hn. Broadcast, do you have anything important to say to me as base commander? If not, please let me continue my shift alone."

"Actually, I do." He stood up on her shoulder, using one of the blunt projections on the side of her head to support himself. "When you're up here, do you ever get the feelin' you're bein' watched?" He peered upward, brightening his optics until he illuminated the roof's overhang.

"That would be the problem, wouldn't it?" Chromia asked in a calmer tone than she had used earlier. "We know they are out there, but are they still watching us?"

Broadcast suddenly lit up his LED screen into a blinding white, casting the beam down onto the junkyard. Something very small leapt out of the pool of light that reached a bare spot of ground. Broadcast then turned it off.

Chromia narrowed her optics. "Another bug?"

"I think so. I keep hearin' discordant notes among the crickets. I don't think they like this uninvited, unnatural neighbor."

"I hope the Decepticons are enjoying the lot of nothing we are doing here." She switched to an internal secured comm frequency. "How much do you think they know?"

He replied back on the same internal line. "Not a whole lot. They might just be keepin' tabs on where our forces are at."

She rumbled unhappily. "They are going to find out that Ironhide is leaving. Should we try to catch it?"

"Not unless we can track it. I didn't see what form it's got exactly, but it's around that Bombshell's size. Easy for it to hide an' hard to tag it if we can't find it to begin with. It's got a cloak of one kind or another. All I can try to do is pinpoint it by sound. But if one of us goes out there it'll know what we're up to. We need someone small an' unnoticeable, but I can't use R an' B 'cause I'd need to focus on the noise."

"How about someone it won't suspect is tracking it?"

Broadcast settled down on her shoulder again, maintaining the internal discussion. "Like who?"

"Like humans who could be innocently looking for bicycle parts. Find a way to remotely instruct Sam while he and his friend Miles search the yard. Miles does not know we are here, and the Decepticons may assume we are still keeping our secret from more of Sam's friends."

"Worth a shot. Worst case, the bug eludes 'em. I'll talk to Ratchet about that remote contact." He slid off her shoulder, landing in a crouch on the floor, then calmly stood to stroll off. He waved one hand, talking out loud. "Later, Lady C. Have a good night."

"Good night, Broadcast." She turned to watch him leave. When she looked back at the junkyard, she increased her audio receptor range and began to study the singing patterns of the crickets, waiting for that discordant note.

~*~

"Broadcast wants me to what?" Sam stared at Bumblebee's dashboard, confused at the request.

"Help find a bug in the junkyard," the Camero repeated.

"Bug in the junkyard, needle in a haystack, same thing! That could take forever!"

"It's a mechanical bug, somewhat larger than the average organic insect, if that helps."

"You're somewhat larger than the average bee."

"Well, I am not a Decepticon. This one is."

"Lovely. Okay, so I call up Miles and tell him I need help finding a part so I can fix my bike. He's going to wonder why I'm fixing my bike when I have a perfectly good car. He isn't that stupid."

"Your mother's bike then."

"Neither bike is actually broken."

"I can arrange that."

There was entirely too much glee in Bumblebee's voice for Sam's comfort. "All right, all right, I'll do it. Mom'll kill both of us if we purposely break her bike."

"You can also tell Miles you are selling your bicycle. You can put those on eBay too, right?"

Sam grumbled about being able to put cars up for sale even if they talked.

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(c) 2008 S. Loweck. This work may not be copied, distributed, or reprinted without the author's permission. Transformers are copyright Hasbro/Paramount/Dreamworks.