Blurred Lines 3 part 1

[dream_it_all]

Blurred Lines
Chapter Three: Inevitable Surprises

Series: Transformers, 2007
Characters/Pairings: Gen except for mentions of Sam/Mikaela to keep in with canon. Sam, Mikaela, Sarah, Will and Annabelle Lennox, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Ironhide, Optimus Prime, Jazz, Prowl, Sunstreaker, Skywarp, Sidetrack (OC).
Warnings/Ratings: T for safety and fairly mild language.
Summary: Megatron was destroyed and the Allspark was lost, but humanity still isn't safe. With a new threat looming and the arrival of a mysterious band of newcomers, there's still a lot for the Autobots to deal with--and that's on top of adjusting to life on Earth. And sometimes the lines are blurred...

Past Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
FFnet link

Blurred Lines 3

It was past ten o’clock when Sam woke up, which was later than he’d planned to-ordinarily, he was all for sleeping in, but he didn’t want to waste any of his time with Bee and Mikaela, and the rest of the Autobots. Yeah, if someone had told him that he’d end up placing conversational time as worthy of waking up early a year ago, he’d have told them they were crazy, but… Things had changed.

Damn was that ever the truth.

He crawled out of bed and pulled on some clothes, feeling breakfast calling his name. (Well, he was a growing boy, as his mom said on a regular basis.) First, though, he wanted to find Mikaela-

Wait. Her bedroom door was still closed. Was she still asleep?

“Mikaela?” Sam asked softly, knocking on the door. “Are you in there?”

No answer. “Mikaela?” he said again, a little louder. Still nothing.

Carefully, he cracked the door, peering inside, and then pulled it open a little more. “Mikaela?”

“Sam?” said Mikaela sleepily, voice hoarse, and then she broke off into a miserable-sounding cough.

Sam winced. “Are you okay?” he asked-she didn’t sound okay. Actually, she sounded kind of like she was steps away from death.

“I don’t know...”

“I’m going to come in, okay?” Sam said stepping into the room and crossing over to her bed. Carefully, he smoothed her hair away from her forehead, then pressed his hand to the skin, trying to gauge her temperature.

“Your hand’s cold,” Mikaela said, curling into a tighter ball underneath her blankets.

“Oh man-Mikaela, I think you have a fever. Hang on-I’m going to go get a thermometer, okay?”

“Nngh,” Mikaela said, turning over. “Everything hurts… I just wanna sleep, Sam.”

“-And painkillers,” he added, almost tip-toeing out of the room. Once the door was closed behind him again, he took off at a dead run.

oOo

Bumblebee went straight to Sam and Mikaela’s rooms when he got off his shift.

After all, somebody needed to tell them about what had happened: Optimus Prime and Ironhide were on guard duty, Ratchet was still working on Prowl, and Jazz was with the Lennoxes at Ironhide’s insistence. That left him.

Sam wasn’t there when he showed up. Mikaela was, but she appeared to be sleeping-he wasn’t sure if he should wake her up. She’d been showing signs of developing illness the night before, and apparently sleep deprivation could worsen human diseases.

He could find his other charge first, he decided.

Bee hadn’t even made it out of the room before Ratchet commed him. Med bay. Now, the message read.

Damn.

Before he could formulate an appropriately convincing reply, Ratchet sent another message. Optimus just messaged to tell me that Sam’s just entered the common room, and he’s got an eye on him. Get your aft over here-you can’t speak right now anyways. Remember?

Something about Ratchet’s tone implied that he better. It also insinuated that the medic was already short on patience, and dragging this out any longer than it needed to be would be a bad, bad thing.

Fine, he said shortly, changing directions and resisting the urge to stomp down the hallway.

oOo

Sam had stopped running by the time he reached the common area, but he was still walking at a fast clip.

He should probably call his mom. Judy would know what to do-she’d nursed Sam through a lot, at least. But other than aspirin, Sam himself had no idea what to do for someone with a cold. Or a flu-he was pretty sure ‘flu’ was the one he was looking for.

The Autobots probably wouldn’t be a huge help with this one.

He was drawn up short as he entered the common area, largely by suddenly becoming under the focus of three ’bots he had never seen before.

One bore a disturbing resemblance to the spikier Decepticons, along with being tall. Really, really tall. Considerably taller than any of the Autobots Sam knew. One was yellow-probably even brighter than Bumblebee, Sam thought distractedly, and also tall, although in scale with the others-he was shorter than Optimus and Ironhide-and bored looking. The last was shorter, and slightly built.

“Hello,” he said, feeling distinctly awkward.

“Sam,” said Optimus Prime, before any of the newcomers could speak.

“Uh, morning, Optimus. What’s going on?”

“We went to investigate possible Decepticon activity in the area of a military base, as you know: once there, we encountered these three-Sidetrack, Sunstreaker, and Skywarp. There was a brief altercation before Prowl arrived: he’s co-leader of the team, along with Sidetrack.”

“Okay,” Sam said. There’d been an ‘altercation?’ What was that supposed to mean?

“Prowl and his unit were following a Decepticon ship, under orders, when they were attacked by a colonizing alien species in another galaxy. Both groups only barely managed to survive, and eventually the two groups-merged.”

Sam could see what this was leading up to. He cast a disbelieving look in the direction of the newcomers, looking at the spiky one especially warily. Maybe he didn’t just look like a Decepticon…

“After receiving our transmission, the group headed towards earth, realizing that the invading aliens were also heading here. They are-incredibly dangerous. Cybertronian physiology isn’t made for defending against them. Human bodies are virtually defenseless. While there are Decepticons in this group-Sidetrack and Skywarp-they’ve promised to fight against these aliens instead of continuing the Autobot-Decepticon war.”

“Jesus,” Sam muttered, eyes wide. What was up with Earth-Did it have some kind of flashing interstellar sign, ‘Bring Your Interplanetary Wars Here’?

And… Decepticons. Here. In the base.

“Uh-” He broke off to eye the possibly-Decepticons warily.

“I’m an Autobot,” said the yellow one flatly.

“I’m not,” said the big one, with a predatory grin.

Sam resisted the urge to back up a step. Optimus Prime looked distinctly angry, or at least protective, and also like he’d been about to say something, but had stopped himself.

The little one came made a move instead, getting right up in the big one’s face-figuratively speaking, of course, by virtue of the height difference. “Skywarp,” he said flatly. “Your questionable sense of humor is, well, questionable. And he is human, and I doubt he’s had any good experiences with Decepticons. Save it. That goes for you, too, Sunstreaker-but not the Decepticon bit, I suppose, you just act like one. Oh, don’t bother denying it, even-” there was a shiver of Cybertronian “-agrees.”

“Yessir,” muttered Skywarp grumpily, but he subsided, adding a reluctant “Sorry,” to Sam-although he guessed that he’d had some silent prompting for that gesture.

“Anyway,” continued the little one-apparently he was in charge. “I’m Sidetrack, the Decepticon leader-half of our team. Prowl’s the Autobot side. These are Sunstreaker and Skywarp.”

“Uh, hi, I’m Sam,” Sam said. “It’s… Nice to meet you-” His mom had always told him that sometimes you needed to utilize a few handy white lies, although she probably hadn’t included ‘not getting squished by angry Decepticons’ as a good reason “-but I think I’m going to go explain all this to Mikaela. I’ll… See you later…”

Ignoring the still-present stares (although the yellow one-Sunstreaker-had turned away and was glaring moodily at Ironhide, who was propped in the corner and looked liable to commit murder at any moment) he turned and continued in the direction of the little human-kitchen area that had been put in-he was pretty sure there was a medkit there. There was one in all the rooms, basically-the base had been designed so every room could be defended during a siege, complete with accommodations for a few humans.

There was, and he had no trouble finding the thermometer. The painkillers were proving more difficult.

“Why the hell don’t they have ibuprofen or something if they have room for frosting for God’s sake?” he whined to himself. “Seriously, painkillers-ahah!”

“Is something wrong?” Optimus asked over his shoulder, and he jumped and yelped, fumbling with the bottle of pills in his hand.

“Oh. Mikaela’s sick,” he said. God, it was only ten in the morning, and he already felt like far too much had happened. In a bad way.

He looked over just in time to catch the concerned look on Optimus’ face. “It’s probably just a cold,” he said. “Or the flu, or something. I’m going to call my mom later.” He paused for a ‑­minute, thinking, then grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “Oh, hey, did the Lennoxes arrive last night?”

“Yes,” said Optimus Prime, acknowledging the question with a nod. “They did. I believe they’re currently with Jazz.” Because Ironhide had refused to leave them unguarded, but he wasn’t going to say that. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to keep the presence of five or more humans-as of right now, that set number had the potential to increase at any time-a secret from their ‘guests.’ Maybe he could send the humans home…?

He wanted as little collateral damage as was possible. Humans were fragile, in comparison to Cybertronians-even more so than other types of organic life. (Not all of them of course, and much of that was circumstantial-organic life was so specialized-but humans were so delicate…)

And he didn’t trust the Decepticons, or even the new Autobots, fully. The base’s defenses had been fully raised: they would activate at even the slightest hint of something going wrong. He couldn’t think of how they could have deceived a full scan, but he supposed that it might be feasible-

He still needed to contact human governments, too. Damn.

oOo

“Hey, Mikaela?” Sam said softly, walking back into her room. He sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing softly at her back. “Mikaela? I brought you painkillers and I want to take your temperature, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, voice tired, rolling over a little. Sam handed her the thermometer, trying to keep from staring at how her shirt was pulled down by her sticking the thing under her arm while he fumbled for two of the generic ibuprofen he’d found. “Here, I’ve got some water.”

“Thank you,” Mikaela said. Then, a moment later, after she’d swallowed, “I can’t believe I’m sick.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, feeling irrationally guilty-it wasn’t like any of this was his fault, really. “Um, Mikaela, there’s something I need to tell you-”

oOo

Sarah had been briefed on the situation, first by Ironhide and then by Jazz, so she managed to hide her surprise-and, thankfully, her nerves and doubt-when she walked into the common area, wailing baby held in her arms.

She nodded-not friendly, but an acknowledgement-when she passed the newcomers. She gave the Autobots in the room she knew-Optimus and Ratchet-a friendlier, if still brief, greeting. Clearly, she had shown up with a particular purpose in mind.

“Oh, drat,” she said to herself, pulling up short as she reached the ladder leading up to the human-sized section of the common area.

“What?” asked Optimus.

“I forgot the baby sling,” admitted the woman, smiling-a little sheepishly-up at the ’bot. “And it’s hard to climb ladders like this. To say the least.” Sarah shifted her arms, where the still-screaming Annabelle was being held, to demonstrate.

“Here,” said Optimus Prime, kneeling and setting down a hand, so she could reach it. “There’s no need for you to go all the way back.”

“Thank you,” said Sarah, carefully putting the baby down in his hand. She’d gotten used to the mechs: Ironhide was a regular presence at their house, and she knew she could trust him with their daughter, despite the apparent difficulties of the size differences.

“Would you like to be lifted as well?” Optimus asked.

“Oh, no, thank you-heights make me a little nervous, so I want to use the ladders as much as possible, to get used to them.” As she was speaking, Sarah had moved over to the ladder and started up it, true to her word.

He handed her the still-crying baby once she reached the top. “Is something wrong?” he asked-Ironhide had said that “Annie” was a good-tempered child, according to human sources, when he’d been pressed.

“I hope not,” said Sarah, worriedly, “But I think she’s just hungry. The microwave over by our rooms broke, so I couldn’t heat her bottle over there. She was a little fussy last night, though…”

“I see,” said Optimus, sending a brief message to Ratchet: You were right. We need a human medic present on the base. “Sarah, would you liked to meet some of the newcomers? Sunstreaker isn’t here right now, but the others are.”

Sarah hesitated, expression doubtful, thinking for a minute before she made up her mind. “Alright,” she said, face determined.

Clearly, those newcomers had been listening in-something Sarah had almost gotten used to, after so much time with the Autobots: one of them, the smallest one, had stood and was slowly making his way towards them, weaving his way through the room. She wondered if she’d need to explain that humans didn’t have comm. lines to use for private conversations again. There was a good chance that Ironhide would do it for her-that would be good.

Sarah, nervously watching the stranger approach, pausing a moment on his way over to talk with Optimus and Ratchet.

Her mind caught up in vague, undirected worry. She’d been rocking Annie, her little girl, in her arms, calming her a little, but the soothing movement slowed and then halted, redoubling the baby’s cries.

Remembering what she’d come here to do, Sarah quickly bustled over to the microwave, taking out the bottle. Carefully, with the ease of practice, she stirred it to make sure the temperature was even, and then tested it against the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Finally, she put the top back on and settled into a near-by chair, offering Annie the rubber nipple. She latched on eagerly, sucking hungrily, and Sarah smiled down at her daughter.

When she looked back up, there were two Transformers watching her, Optimus Prime and one of the new ones-Sarah couldn’t help it, she jumped a little. “Er, hello,” she said, shifting a little so that Annabelle sat more comfortably.

“Hello,” said the one she didn’t know. Sarah was distinctly happy that Optimus was still there-for moral support, so to speak, but also because the other looked tiny next to him, which made him a little less intimidating. “I’m Sidetrack. Nice to meet you.” Oddly, he had what sounded distinctly like a strong Southern accent.

“Sarah Lennox,” she said. “And this is my daughter, Annabelle.”

The stranger-Sidetrack-seemed fascinated, leaning in close (closer than Sarah really felt comfortable with) to get a better look. “A child,” he said, like the idea was a foreign concept.

...Which, actually, it was, Sarah had been informed, earlier. The “youngest” Autobots got was the mental equivalent of a human in their late teens and early twenties. (The psychologist in her noted that it wasn’t an exact translation, of course, which was something of a relief-a seventeen-year-old with the sort of firepower Autobots-and Decepticons-had was the stuff nightmares were made of. And that was just for example: an eight-year-old would probably be worse. Or a thirteen-year-old, God forbid.)

“Well, more an infant,” Sarah said, forcing herself to relax her hold on her daughter. She was holding her defensively, she knew, which was almost definitely rude. Then, because it was a safe topic, she added “It’s good-it looks like she was just hungry. I was worried she might be coming down with something…”

“Mikaela has influenza,” Ratchet informed them from another table, voice raised for Sarah’s sake. “Keep an eye on her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s already had it,” Sarah called back. “All three of us were sick, maybe three weeks ago, now-absolutely flat on our backs! But-Mikaela’s sick? Poor girl-I hope she doesn’t have what we did-it was awful.”

oOo

“I’ve got to go,” Ratchet said, standing abruptly. “Work to do-I’ve got so little time now, I don’t know how I managed in the middle of the war.”

“Good,” said Optimus vaguely. “I’ll talk to you later. In the meantime, I should probably go, too: there’s a meeting scheduled. Prowl, Sidetrack-you’re invited as well. Our human liaison from the executive branch would like to meet you.”

“Great!” Sidetrack said brightly. “We need to get talking with these human governmental bodies. After all, we don’t have the numbers to serve as the only line of defense against the invaders.”

“It’s a good opportunity,” said Prowl blandly, standing.

“Good,” Optimus repeated, heading for the door, the other two in his wake. He nodded at Ironhide and Sunstreaker-they were apparently ignoring each other-as the two groups passed each other in the hallway.

Sarah smiled as Ironhide as he walked in, still holding the baby. He frowned deeply, but she knew better than to take it personally.

“Hey, ’Hide. How are things going?”

“Hmph. You should go.”

“Maybe, once Annie’s done napping-she’s having trouble sleeping, so I don’t want to risk waking her up now she’s finally drifted off.”

“…Fine.” Ironhide turned to glare at the two newcomers still left in the room: Sunstreaker and Skywarp. “Touch her and Bumblebee, who is in the comm. room, will make sure you are a smoking pile of scrap metal before you can so much as twitch.”

Sarah blinked.

oOo

“Sarah!” Sam said, surprised, crawling up onto the table. “How are you? And Annie?”

Sarah smiled over at him. “Sam, it’s great to see you again-it’s been a while! I’m fine, and Annie too-it seems like she’s getting bigger every day. How are you? I heard Mikaela’s sick…”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, suddenly worried again. “She’s got a flu. I was just about to call my mom…”

“What’s the symptoms?”

“Fever, coughing, headache and she keeps on saying she’s not hungry. Those are the main ones.”

“There’s some soup in the freezer. Judy made it-and I can make some more if it’s been eaten. Soup’s one of the few things I can cook-it’s hard to mess up.”

It didn’t take long for him to get the soup heating: his mom had had the sense of mind to put it in serving-sized microwave-safe containers. He took a seat, not bothering to stand while he was waiting for it, and Sarah handed him Annabelle.

“You’re good at this,” she told him after a minute, looking at the smiling, burbling Annie he was bouncing on his knees. Sam smiled, a bit embarrassed, as he looked over, swapping grips so she was cradled in the crook of his arm. The baby clung to his sleeve until Sam gave her his thumb to hold onto.

“Our neighbors had a baby a while ago, so I started babysitting for them-it’s how I got a lot of my car money-you know, for Bee. It definitely worked better than eBay, but it was also a lot more work. Rosa was a little monster.”

Sarah laughed. “Well, Annie has her monstrous moments, too-there’s no such thing as a truly angelic child, I think. She’s not too bad, though. We were lucky.”

Sam ticked Annabelle one more time, then handed her back to her mother: the microwave had beeped, and he didn’t want the soup to get cold again while he was walking back to Mikaela’s room.

“I’ll see you later, then,” he said. “And Will too, I guess.”

“Yep,” Sarah said, nodding. “He’s got meetings right now, but he’ll be free later. I think there’s all kinds of trouble with the government right now because of the, uh, newcomers.” She tipped her head in the direction of the far corner of the room, where two of them were huddled, one apparently talking quietly.

“Ouch,” Sam said, wincing. They’d been bad enough about accepting the Autobots at all, after they’d saved the world. Their distrust of Decepticons… Sam was pretty confident he wasn’t going to feel even remotely safe with them anytime soon, and he trusted the Autobots-the ones he knew, at least-with his life, and more.

“That was my reaction. Y’know, if it’s physically possible for him, I bet Optimus has a headache.”

Sam nodded. “I think we’re just lucky that Keller’s still involved. Things would be harder if Sector Seven had been fully incorporated and one of their agents put in charge of the Autobot branch.” He frowned, thinking of Simmons again.

“Thank heaven for small virtues indeed,” Sarah replied. “Would you like some help with that? That way, you can bring a few bottles of water along without needing to make a second trip. It’s important for Mikaela to stay hydrated. Here’s the soup lid-and let’s hope it’s watertight: these ladders are starting to get old.”

“They were putting up a higher walkway around the room, one you could get onto by just stepping onto it off a table, but I think Ironhide accidentally ripped most of it down right before the grand opening,” Sam said, searching through the crowded cupboard for water bottles-Mikaela usually liked chilled water, he knew, but she was feeling really cold, with the fever. He’d already gone searching for extra blankets.

Sarah goggled. “Really?” she said. Ironhide was big-huge, in fact-but he was usually pretty graceful.

“Well, he was in the middle of a base-wide training exercise with Bumblebee at the time. A kind of mock-battle thing.”

Sarah giggled. “Okay, the story almost makes up for the inconvenience. But how are we going to get the soup, the water, ourselves and Annabelle down?”

“We can throw the water, but probably not the soup or the baby-Oh.”

“Oh what?” Sarah asked, turning around to look at whatever Sam was staring at.

Oh.

There was one of the newcomers, much closer than he had been, watching them, face almost blank, except for a glimmer of something unnerving around the eyes.

“Um, hi,” Sam said, not even trying to sound like he wasn’t deeply mistrustful. He was trying to hide how scared-nervous he was, partially successfully.

Sarah only loosened her hold on her baby girl when she made a noise of complaint about the tightness of the grip, something that was almost but not quite a wail, the prelude to actual crying.

“Hi,” rumbled the ’Con: his voice was low and deep, like Sam remembered the Decepticons at Mission City-and earlier-sounding. “You looked like you needed some help.”

Sarah made a vaguely affirmative noise, all she was willing to commit to. She didn’t trust him-Skywarp? She thought that was his name.

“Here,” he said, laying one enormous hand on the table next to them. The two humans jumped as it clanged, and the surface beneath them shuddered. Hesitantly, Sarah perched the thing of soup on it, before backing away, with some subtlety. Sam followed suit, laying the water bottles down as well.

While Sarah was willing to trust Optimus Prime-and the other Autobots, as well-with her baby, she certainly wasn’t going to trust any of the newcomers, Autobot or Decepticon. Even if there had only been Autobots that had shown up, with no possibility of them being traitors, she probably wouldn’t trust them, either. Call her paranoid, but Annie was her baby girl.

“Here, I’ll take the baby,” Sam said, pointing over his shoulder at the ladder. Sarah shot him a look of pure gratitude: she really didn’t want to try the ladder one-handed, with the other holding an infant. And, really, this all would have been so much simpler if she’d just thought to bring the baby sling.

The robot was watching the two of them heading down the ladder, far too closely for comfort-almost as if he was having some sort of internal debate. It was unnerving; Sam was deeply relieved when Bumblebee came skidding into the room, swiftly transforming to stand-it was enough to distract the Decepticon who’d been watching them and the new Autobot brooding in the corner.

Skywarp had been having a mental debate with himself, actually, about whether messing around with them-not all that badly, even-for the laughs would be worth the chewing out from Sidetrack and Prowl. And the possibility of getting locked into the brig permanently. Or shot. And causing an inter-group multi-faction incident that could possibly spell the downfall of humanity and the destruction of earth.

Bumblebee headed straight for the corner, and Skywarp had enough sense to back away a little as the clearly fuming Autobot approached. Bee didn’t acknowledge him in any way, turning his back to him-which sheltered the two humans on the ladder from his view.

“Here,” Bumblebee said quietly, voice blurred with a fuzz of static, and Sam thankfully placed the baby on his hand, and then clambered on himself; Sarah waved away the help.

Once both humans were safely on the ground, he shifted to face Skywarp.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t Ironhide on comm. duty,” he snarled, voice snapping equally with anger and pain, and then turned and slowly left, following the humans protectively.

Their group was almost out of the room before someone spoke again. It was Sam.

“-You know, if Ratchet asks me again, I’ll have to tell him you were talking-”

Sarah laughed at the expression Bee pulled.

oOo

“So, how many of you are there?” Keller asked, growing ever more aware of his building headache. After the day he’d had, and with his luck so far, he was expecting one of the two new officers to give him a number like thirty. Possibly more. And made up of maybe seventy-five percent Decepticons.

“Including me and Prowl, sir, nine,” said Sidetrack promptly. “My original team, just the Decepticons, was comprised of 23 mechs, however. Roughly half didn’t live past the first encounter.”

Will only just managed to turn the beginnings of his startled exclamation into a cough. Keller caught the way Optimus Prime went suddenly still for a minute, but didn’t realize it was a reaction to shock: he assumed it was just something like the receiving a message from another Autobot-the briefing he’d gotten hadn’t included their eyes dimming or flickering, since it had been prepared largely by the remains of Sector Seven, who didn’t know nearly as much as they thought they did-or bracing himself, figuratively speaking, for Keller’s reaction to that number. Nine was just under double the number of the Autobots-the ones he could trust, at least. Bad odds.

Prowl frowned, just slightly.

“How many Decepticons?” Keller asked.

Prowl answered this question. “Four Autobots: myself, Sunstreaker and-” the last two names were in Cybertronian. Keller knew that the Transformers picked their own names-he’d asked-and guessed the ones without an earth name were still out in space somewhere. “And five Decepticons: Sidetrack, Skywarp and-” And again, he trailed off into a language he couldn’t even fully hear. Presumably, it would mean something to the other Transformers there. For him, it just made his headache worse.

“So, these… other aliens,” he said, ignoring his pounding head. There would be time to deal with it later. Maybe he could convince his aide to bring him aspirin along with his next cup of coffee. “Are ravaging species-supremacists driven by religious rage and lead by a small percentage of the population who are all ravingly crazy because of a recurrent genetic flaw.”

“Well, not quite genetic-that’s an Earth thing-but you get the idea,” said Sidetrack earnestly. Keller didn’t buy his act for a second. “They’re also effectively impervious to Cybertronian-designed cannons at anything short of point-blank range, resistant to close-combat bladed weapons, extremely fast and numerous, and approximately the same height I am. And suicidal when they fight-they’re not afraid of death, and most of them want to die in service to their god. And they want to turn your planet into an ‘energy farm’ by hooking up humans and other large carbon-based organisms-probably including trees, they’re going to love photosynthesis-into a siphon device that will slowly drain you of life.”

There was a horrified silence.

“-And if they catch us, they’ll probably try modifying the machine so it works on Cybertronian life forms. More to the point, though, I can assure you that all of us-including all us nasty Decepticon types-are devoted to defeating them, and ensuring that they never commit what they did on-” a brief burst of Cybertronian “-again.”

oOo

On to part 2