Rodimus picked himself up from the floor of the cell fuming and brushed dust off his plating. This place was filthy. Probably hadn't been used in vorns. He turned and shouted a few more invectives at the big voiceless mechs who had dragged them here, not that it did anything. Made him feel better anyway. What had Tyrest called them again... Legislators?
"Everybody here and okay?" he asked. Various helms around the room nodded. "Alright, sound off," he said. "Who's all here?"
The full count turned out to be Tailgate, Chromedome, Perceptor, Brainstorm, and himself. Not great. No sign of Ratchet, Whirl or Cyclonus. They had caught a glimpse of Ultra Magnus in a corridor somewhere, but he hadn't even reacted to the sight of them walking past in cuffs, being dragged by Decepticons. So he wasn't going to be any help. They had to get out of this themselves.
"So... did anyone bring their prison-breaking equipment?" he asked, trying to stay optimistic.
"Give me a lab and a few cycles and sure, I could whip you up something," Brainstorm replied. "Right now, no."
"Don't you have anything in that briefcase of yours?" Rodimus asked. "Why else do you carry it around everywhere with you."
"It wouldn't be helpful."
Rodimus exvented. What to do, what to do? Wait here for whatever Tyrest wanted to do with them? That was a clear no. This was a pretty secure cell though. He didn't know how they were going to get out of trouble this time.
There was movement out of the corner of his optic. Rodimus snapped round and saw whatever it was flinch even further into the shadows beneath the benches that lined the floor. "Nobody move," he said, holding his servos out.
"What is it?" Tailgate asked.
"There's something under the seats," Rodimus replied. He inched forwards and crouched down for a better look. He wasn't armed, which wasn't so great, but the thing didn't look that big. It was... about the size of some kind of mechanimal actually. He crept a little closer and the creature responded by flinching back. A low growl started up.
"It's okay," Rodimus said, as soothingly and confidently as he could. "It's okay, we won't hurt you. We're all friends here. C'mon. Come out here. It's okay. You can trust us."
The beast didn't move at first, but it stopped growling. Rodimus made a few more coaxing, beckoning motions, and after some hesitation, the creature finally started to creep towards him slowly and cautiously. As it came out into the dim, dingy light of the cell it proved to be a turbofox. It didn't look like a wild turbofox, even though it was acting a bit like one. It was a sleek-plated example of the species, with pretty green and white colouration. No, this had to be someone's pet. A strain of turbofox bred for the fancy market.
"Hey boy," Rodimus said, putting his servo out so it could scent him, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. "What are you doing in here?"
"Maybe he was a very bad fox?" Brainstorm suggested, amusement in his voice. The turbofox turned its head and yapped at him.
Rodimus laughed. "I think it disagrees with you," he said. He inched his servo forward while the 'fox was distracted and went to scratch behind its audial prongs. Almost immediately the creature whipped around and fastened its sharp dentae on his digits. Rodimus yanked his servo away with a yelp of pain and looked disapprovingly at it.
"Hey," he said. "Brainstorm was right. You are a bad boy."
The turbofox looked almost sheepish. Rodimus held out his servo again, but this time the 'fox rose up on its hindlegs and folded its paws over his reaching servo and wrist. Rodimus chuckled. "Someone taught you to shake!" he said, delighted. "Alright, alright, I get it. You didn't mean to bite. You were just scared. Who knows how long you've been trapped in here without your owner." The turbofox growled at that last word.
"Your owner?" Rodimus said. The 'fox growled again. "Guess nothing good happened to him then."
"He's adorable," Tailgate said, coming over and crouching down next to him. The turbofox wasn't that much smaller than he was. Rodimus suddenly had a vivid mental image of Tailgate riding it like a petropony and couldn't help from smirking. Now that would be adorable. "It's not fair that he was hiding in here. I wonder how long it's been since anyone fed him."
"Oh!" Rung said, straightening suddenly and then popping a panel out of his side. "I have something." He produced a little canister and slid the top open, shaking a few energon sticks out into his servo. "Here." He held them out towards the turbofox, who sniffed, went stiff, then flicked its tail and buried its snout in Rung's palm. The treats were gone within astroseconds, and a long glossa slid out to lick the energon dust from Rung's plating.
"Yeah, I get the idea he maybe hasn't been fed in a while," Rodimus said, frowning. "You got any more of those?"
Rung nodded, tipping the canister out into his servo again. "We can't leave him here."
"That's assuming we can even get out of here at all," Rodimus said, venting. "I wish we knew what Tyrest is up to. What's with all the weird drones? Why's he hiring Decepticons? What's with the damn titan graveyard out there? What about the hotspot? Just... what is going on?"
The turbofox looked up from chomping on snacks to cock its head at him with clear curiosity. "Yeah, you don't have to worry about slag like this," Rodimus sighed. "You've got a simple life." The turbofox shook its head at him, probably resetting the plating. Mechanimals tended to have weird overlapping plating that needed to be preened regularly to stop dirt and grime working its way underneath, and this cell wasn't exactly clean. The advantage was something to do with surface area for photovoltaics, but Roddy couldn't recall for sure. He hadn't exactly had a fancy education.
"I guess we just have to wait and see what happens," he said, mostly to himself.
As he crunched the last of the energon treats the blaring error signals from his fuel tank finally settled down to a more bearable level, and the heavy fog over his processor started to lift a little. The pulse of instinct which had been ruling him since he'd been forced into this form faded a little and he could actually think instead of simply reacting. The faint tremor running through his plating settled.
His optics worked differently in this form, or perhaps it was simply the change in perspective after so long wearing the Magnus armour. He blinked at the servo he had been eating out of and realised it was familiar. He sat back on his haunches, deeply uncomfortable with the strange nature of the movement with quadrupedal limbs, and regarded the mechs around him. He was certain his perception of colour was altered in this form, giving more primacy to shades in the infrared than he was used to. The shapes were familiar, but the plating was all wrong.
He realised the mech feeding him was Rung, and now with his processor actually functioning he could see that the others were members of his crew as well. Rodimus had been the mech so keen on petting him.
Primus above, he had never wanted them to see him like this. Not that they recognised him, and they wouldn't have done so even if he had been in his root-mode. They only knew Ultra Magnus, who was offline now as far as they knew.
Why were they here? They must have followed a trail the armour left back to Luna-1, and run afoul of Tyrest.
He flinched a little at even thinking Tyrest's name, quite unintentionally. His alt showed displays of emotion far more than he liked, tail tucking down and audials flattening against his helm. He whined slightly, feeling the grate of torn metal in his throat. The medic here had welded him up so neatly nothing seemed to show externally, but he hadn't been so careful on the inside. His flank still ached every time he moved, and even the animalistic noises that were all he had left hurt to express.
"Hey buddy, what's wrong?" Rodimus asked, reaching out to pet him again. Minimus backed away from the reaching servo. He wasn't a mechanimal! He was a person! He just... he was just being punished like this for his failure, because something had gone deeply wrong with Tyrest since last they'd met.
He reached up to his throat and flinched again when claws scraped against his plating rather than digits, whining softly. He didn't want his friends to know exactly who he was but there had to be a way to let them know he was more than some... some pet.
"Maybe he's still hungry?" Tailgate suggested.
"I guess probably," Rodimus said. "He doesn't seem to like it when I try to touch him. Maybe his last master wasn't very nice."
"Maybe that's what Tyrest got him for," Chromedome said, his tone dark. "Mechanimal abuse."
"We should definitely take him with us when we get out of here," Rodimus said firmly. Minimus thumped his tail against the floor emphatically. Yes, get him away from Tyrest and turn him back! If he was able to spend a bit longer around the crew on the Lost Light he would surely be able to find some way of telling them he was more than he appeared.
"If we get out of here," Brainstorm said.
"It's only gonna be a matter of time," Rodimus insisted.
Some time later the bodies of Skids and Swerve were dropped into their cell by teleporter. They proved to be in shallow stasis, but came around quickly without requiring the attentions of a medic. Minimus felt his audials perk up in interest as the two explained recent events from their perspective, filling in Rodimus and the others. His replacement was making himself busy it seemed.
"Hey, what's with the turbofox?" Swerve asked, after he'd finished his tale. "It's cute, but where did you find it?"
"Hiding in this cell," Rodimus said. "We think its owner ran afoul of Tyrest somehow. We're keeping it, obviously."
"Does it have a name?" Swerve asked. He held a servo out, and put on a tone that Minimus found immediately grating. "Do you have a name boy? You're such a cute lil'foxey. Who's a good fox?" Minimus decided the best way of managing that kind of behaviour would be simply to ignore it. Hopefully Swerve would get the picture soon enough.
"I didn't really think about what to call him," Rodimus said. "It should be something badaft though, right? Like... Killer. Scrapper. Maybe... Shredder?"
"Those are all terrible names," Skids said, half-laughing even though he was still leaking energon in places from the stab-wounds littering his plating. Unable to stop himself growling at each potential indignity, Minimus heartily agreed.
"Well it's gotta be something cool," Rodimus complained. "I don't want it to be something awful like the name Sunstreaker gave to that Insecticon of his, what was it, 'Bob'?"
"What about Regnus?" Tailgate suggested. "That was a fairly common name for pet turbofoxes back in my time."
It... wasn't terrible. If this was going to happen, and Minimus didn't see much of a way out of it, Regnus was about the best he could hope for. He yapped, trying to make it sound enthusiastic.
"See, he likes it!" Tailgate said, pleasure obvious.
"It'll do," Rodimus said, shrugging. Whatever he might have been about to say next was interrupted by the sound of heavy pedesteps coming down the corridor. He had expected Legislators, but it was Star Sabre, dragging a cuffed mech along by a collar. Sabre glanced over at Minimus, who bared his dentae. Star Sabre was not an acceptable replacement to fill his role.
"I see you found the mutt," Star Saber noted, without much emotion.
"Is he yours?" Rodimus asked disdainfully. "Haven't you guys heard of feeding your pets, or is mechanimal welfare not particularly important to you?"
Star Sabre didn't reply, obviously disinterested in that line of conversation. Instead he dragged the bound mech a little closer. "I've brought your new cellmate," he said. "He's been smouldering in the variable voltage harness for a while now sleeping off his confession - waiting for his partner-in-crime to honour his promises."
Chromedome laid a hand on Skid's shoulder. "You need to see this," he said, and went on to talk about his mnemosurgery attempts, and that perhaps he had misinterpreted what he'd seen there. That this bot, Getaway, was in fact someone from Skid's past. Star Sabre ignored their conversation, loosened the collar from around the mech's neck, deactivated the force bars for a moment, and pushed him through.
The possibility of escape whirred through Minimus' processor for a moment, but he discarded it rapidly as a poor idea. He had nowhere to go, and Tyrest would recapture him eventually. It might also jeopardise his chances of leaving with Rodimus and the others. He wasn't about to under-estimate their capabilities. They had managed to get out of equally poor situations in the past.
The name Getaway was also vaguely familiar to him, something from Prowl's reports. Perhaps he would be the key to getting off Luna-1.
-2-
Getaway was indeed one of Prowl's, and judging from his story, Skids had been a part of Intelligence as well. Minimus listened with his audials pricked up and wondered whether the botched mission to force Tyrest out of his position had been part of what had driven him to such extremes. Once it had been an honour to serve the famous Judge, but... he still didn't know how to feel. There was betrayal, spark-deep hurt, but some part of him wondered whether he really had done something wrong. Something to deserve punishment. Tyrest would not have risen to the position he had if his judgement was not impeccable. The change in him made no sense.
He tried to pay attention to Getaway's story as best he could. He didn't want to think about such things. When the mech circled around to what Tyrest had told him during interrogation though, it was hard to avoid the implications. Tyrest wanted to kill the cold constructed. Minimus' audials went back instinctively at the thought. He was hardly the only one to react with disbelief and alarm, but nothing about Getaway's manner suggested he was lying. Not about that, or about this plan to reach Cyberutopia through a reconstructed titan spacebridge.
"So we blow up the killswitch," Rodimus said, "stop Tyrest, and then - hold tight 'cos here it comes - we go through the portal ourselves. Universe saved; quest over."
"Rodimus, deluded," Swerve replied. "Sorry Captain but like most plans involving freedom of movement your's is entirely dependent on not being imprisoned."
"Perhaps we could ask the guards to get a message to Ultra Magnus," Chromedome suggested. "We know he's here somewhere."
Minimus leapt up and start yapping as hard as he could. It was far from a perfect method of communication but it was all that he was capable of. He was right here, if only they could make some kind of a connection...
"What's with him?" Brainstorm asked. Rodimus frowned and crouched down.
"What's up boy?" he asked. "Something wrong?"
Something was very wrong, but as much as he tried to contort his throat nothing would come out except for whines and barks. Mechanimal noises. He gave up as it became clear that no-one was going to make the connection. Minimus refused to let himself despair. Perhaps repetition would be the key. If he could build up a pattern...
"Ultra Magnus?" Getaway asked, tilting his helm to the side. "He's the Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord isn't he? So he works for Tyrest, which isn't a good look right now, hmm. If he's working for Tyrest, then I reckon he wants you here. Might even have lured you here."
Minimus bristled. He found it was more literally than he was expecting when the plates along his spinal strut and the back of his helm lifted up, flaring aggressively. He growled. Getaway was not... precisely wrong. That was half the problem. He'd hoped Rodimus would receive a reprimand from Tyrest and learn a lesson about reckless behaviour, not... Not any of this. He hadn't intended this, and he resented the implication he would have approved of Tyrest's behaviour.
None of the mechs opened their mouths to defend him. That hurt as well, but from their point of view he had to admit that this all appeared very troubling.
"Anyway," Getaway continued, "you don't need a mech on the outside when you have me. I specialise in escapology."
"Then why haven't you gotten out of here already?" Swerve asked, clearly doubtful.
"I didn't have the right equipment," Getaway said, then set about proving that he was entirely capable of living up to his name.
There wasn't a question that he would leave the cell with Rodimus and the others. Minimus managed to avoid being scooped up and carried by Rodimus by a narrow margin, but once he saw that he seemed happy to follow the group Rodimus didn't try again. Good. He was perfectly capable of walking or running on his own, even if the movement was unfamiliar, and at first a little clumsy. He heard someone comment that he was 'a poor little fox that had been cooped up too long', and tried not to bare his teeth. That had sounded like Swerve. Who knew the mech was so soft-sparked for mechanimals?
Rodimus settled for carrying Tailgate instead, who seemed to be having some locomotor difficulties. They liberated the cannons from the now stasis-locked guard, and followed Getaway into the maze of the Luna-1 complex. Minimus wished he could be of some assistance in navigating, but he had never been to this location before until Tyrest had brought him, in stasis within the Magnus armour.
After a few breems Minimus' sensitive audials picked up pedesteps coming in their direction. He barked to alert the others to the potential danger, trying to communicate his alert with body language. He wasn't very practised at this, and wasn't sure if they understood anything he was trying to do. Blank stares met his gaze when he turned to look. Thankfully it was not Legislators that appeared from around the corner ahead, but Ratchet and First Aid, similarly armed with Legislator cannons. Both were liberally splattered with fresh energon. Minimus could smell it from here, sharp and unpleasant. Neither looked happy.
"Whoa, what happened to you two?" Rodimus asked, optics wide.
"Pharma's here," Ratchet said, almost growling himself. "Ambulon's dead. Pharma's doing."
"Oh," Rodimus said. "Ratchet, I'm so sor..."
Ratchet didn't give him a chance to finish. "Where have you been all this time? And what's with the 'fox?"
"In a cell," Rodimus replied, and jerked a digit at Minimus. "Found him there too. Couldn't exactly leave him. So, we were just on our way to stop Tyrest from murdering half our species..."
Ratchet gestured back the way they'd come with a jerk of his helm. "Something you ought to see first," he said grimly. When they turned into the adjoining corridor that thing turned out to be the Magnus armour, propped up against the wall, stiff and blank-opticed. Minimus froze, then leapt forwards towards it, yapping urgently. He jumped up and pawed at the leg of the armour then turned back to look at the others, hoping this time would be the time they understood him. He even nuzzled the plating briefly, and tried to turn one of his forelegs enough to tap on his own chest - but of course they didn't bend that way.
"Is he... offline?" Rodimus asked, staring up at the armour's unmoving helm.
"I've scanned him and I'm not picking up signs of spark or processor activity," Ratchet said. "He might not have started to grey yet, but yes. It looks like whatever force brought him here, it wasn't his own will. That or Tyrest killed him shortly after arrival."
Or something none of them had any reason to consider, Minimus thought, and pawed desperately at the armour again.
"Curious," Perceptor said. "I am unfamiliar with mechanimal behaviours; why do you suppose the turbofox is doing that?"
"It's a pet breed isn't it," Ratchet said. "Probably used to being around mechs. I imagine it's wondering why none of us are helping him. Poor thing doesn't realise it's too late for that."
Minimus was not a mech given to particularly overblown displays of emotion, but his self-control was beginning to fray. He managed to choke back his reaction by reminding himself he could not be sure how it would express itself in this form. Perhaps simply as a wordless howl of frustration, and surely he was not so far gone as that?
"We need to find Tyrest," Rodimus said. His voice was firm, but Minimus believed he had come to know him well enough to detect a hint of suppressed emotion. The significance of that, he could not be sure of. He gave up on the Magnus armour and padded back over to join the rest of the group, likely looking as dejected as he felt.
"Funny thought," Tailgate said, breaking off from the whispered conversation he had been having with Ratchet. "You don't think it could be Magnus' pet turbofox do you?"
"I hope we would have noticed if Magnus was keeping a turbofox somewhere on the Lost Light," Rodimus replied.
"Could'a been keeping it here," Getaway suggested. "Maybe his boss was looking after it for him."
"Some boss," Rodimus muttered. "Given he either dragged his corpse half-way across the galaxy or killed him when he got here."
"He's called 'Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord' for a reason," Getaway said.
Uncomfortable silence followed. Minimus kept his plating slicked down tight to his frame and tried not to feel anything. He had practise at that. It shouldn't be as hard as it was.
Minimus did not miss the smirk Tyrest shot in his direction after they burst through the doors into the room that held the killswitch - and the spacebridge as well. He had a brief hope that he would decide to taunt him, rub his nasal sensors in what he had done to him and thus also reveal his identity to the crew. Tyrest said nothing however. The satisfaction of keeping Minimus' true nature secret apparently held more pleasure for him than gloating. On the other servo he was more than happy to gloat to the rest of the mechs, particularly once the device in his staff had rendered them all collapsed on the floor and unable to move.
Minimus concentrated hard and tried to fight against the suggestion, but he had no more luck than anyone else. He could only stare and grind his dentae together as Tyrest pulled the killswitch and activated the spacebridge, walking towards the wall of swirling blue-white light that burst into being within the bounds of the ramshackle circle. It couldn't end like this. They couldn't lose like this.
It was Tailgate who saved them. Somehow unaffected, he leapt at Tyrest, distracting him just long enough to deactivate the suggestion device on his staff. Minimus jumped upright and lunged, snarling. His jaws fastened around Tyrest's arm as he grabbed at Tailgate, dentae sinking deep. Tyrest yelped and tried to shake him off, dropping Tailgate onto the floor. Minimus held on as best he could, but Tyrest managed to pry him free and throw him half-way across the room.
"How dare you..." Tyrest began, before Rodimus raised the machine gun and nearly tore him in half across the waist in a hail of bullets.
"Shut the frag up," Rodimus snarled. "Nobody wants to hear it."
Tyrest didn't move, offline or simply stasis-locked. Ratchet immediately went for Brainstorm and Chromedome, and Skids was making sure Pharma was taken prisoner. Minimus pushed himself onto his paws again, shaking himself. Nothing seemed to be too injured, or at least not more injured than he had been before. The portal was still open. Still swirling. The energies it was throwing off were hard to look at with these optics.
Perceptor was fussing around near the killswitch, pulling out tangles of wires and switching them around with near-reckless haste. Sparks dripped around his digits; they must have been burning him but he showed no sign of it on his faceplates. "Rodimus, get over here," he said anxiously. "I need you for this."
Rodimus dragged himself to his pedes and went over to talk to Perceptor. Minimus sat on his haunches in the middle of the chaos and felt utterly useless. What sort of help could he be here? He couldn't offer the comfort of words when he couldn't talk. He couldn't offer an extra set of servos for Perceptor's efforts. He wasn't going to be much use if the Legislators discovered what they were doing or Star Sabre returned from wherever he had gotten off to. Even as the Irreducible Minimus he could have done something, but like this...
"Hey." The voice was Swerve's, coming over to sit on the floor next to him. He reached out and laid a servo on the top of Minimus' head, and weary as he was, Minimus let him. There was something soothing about the physical contact he supposed. "You're a brave turbofox aren't you, going for Tyrest like that. You're a good 'fox, yes you are. A very good fox."
Minimus lay down and put his head in his paws. He couldn't live like this. It was simply too humiliating.
-3-
Killing Tyrest and deactivating the killswitch should have been the end of it. The sacrifice Rodimus had been prepared to make should have been enough. In the end it wasn't quite so simple. Legislators came pouring down upon them. Pharma escaped his bonds, then died, then disappeared. Minimus spent too much time dodging pedes and biting whatever parts of their enemies he could reach to have much effect on the final outcome, but in a way he did have some indirect effect on things.
Tailgate was the one to save all of their sparks. He realised the imperative that the Legislators were following of his own accord, and used the knowledge of the law which Ultra Magnus had spent long cycles teaching him to alter the database still open on Tyrest's computer. The drones ground to a halt without anyone taking severe injuries. Pride swelled in Minimus' spark. Tailgate had done well to keep at his lessons despite his obvious boredom, and this was proof that he had been paying genuine attention rather than simple lip-service.
Exhaustion was starting to take over Minimus' processor by the time they were ready to return to the Lost Light. He had been dangerously low on fuel before this, and the fast-burning processed energon of Rung's treats hadn't topped his tank up that much. He sluggishness was noticed by Swerve who actually picked him up and carried him, no small task considering that he was a minibot himself. Minimus was too tired to resist. He gave into the siren call of shuttered optics, and fell into a light recharge lulled by the swinging motion of Swerve's gait.
"So I guess Magnus really is dead then," someone said. The words filtered down to his processor and he twitched up out of recharge briefly. He shouldn't let them go on believing that. It wasn't true, and if they thought it was they would never look for him. They wouldn't realise...
His fuel tank was starting to ping him insistent messages again. He had to conserve power. If he didn't recharge his self-preservation systems would start shutting down higher-processor functions again. That had been... deeply unpleasant.
He could try to correct them later. There were datapads on the ship. Terminals... he would find a way...
Recharge was deeper this time, if not quite as restful as he might have hoped.
Tyrest sneered down at him. Minimus was on his knees before a bot he'd thought he admired, clutching the empty helm of the Magnus armour to him. Scattered pieces of the identity he had been wearing for vorns littered the floor around him. His spark ached from the sudden violent removal; the suit torn from him rather than willingly disengaged. He felt tender and terribly exposed. It had been... he could not even be sure how long... since he had last been Minimus Ambus. He wasn't sure who he was anymore outside of Ultra Magnus - Tyrest had shattered his life along with the armour.
"For a long time I thought you were worthy of that armour," Tyrest told him. "Worthy of upholding the law despite what you are." Something about the way he said it made Minimus look up at him. "Did you believe I was unaware?" Tyrest asked him, raising an orbital ridge. "Did you think I didn't know?"
"Know... what?" His processor was still whirling, caught up in the disintegration of his life.
"About your alt-mode," Tyrest said. The sneer was back. The look of disgust. Minimus quailed beneath it, still almost confused... or, no. Not confused. Just unable to believe it. Tyrest was the Law. He was above the prejudices of their race, deep ingrained as they ran in so many bots.
Tyrest motioned to a pair of the Legislators standing by the wall, and they stepped forward to grasp Minimus by the arms. He struggled for a moment to get free but they were much bigger than him, and in this form his strength was far diminished.
"I thought, why not give the beast a chance," Tyrest continued. "Let him prove he can rise above his nature; his brother managed to do so well enough. Yet apparently in the end you were simply... not up to the task. You're laughable. You made Magnus laughable."
"I... that's not..." He stammered over the words, unsure how he could justify himself. Yes he had been struggling in the aftermath of the war, yes he had found the Lost Light a difficult environment, yes perhaps there had been times when he hadn't been all he wanted to be but there had always been circumstances...
The excuses died on his glossa. Excuses weren't enough.
"Strip him down," Tyrest ordered. "Don't let him hide what he really is anymore."
"Wait!" Minimus shouted, but the Legislators had already started in on him. They were not gentle. That had not been ordered. If he had been permitted then Minimus could have shed the armour himself but apparently that was not what Tyrest wanted. He wanted to see him suffer.
Blunt digits dug into the edges of plating, buckling metal, and pulled. Armour came off in strips, dangling neural connectors, energon lines, stray sparking wires... Minimus screamed and felt the warm slick of fresh energon start sheeting down what plating remained. The Legislators kept digging, pulling. They fastened onto internal struts and jerked, tearing apart the subsidiary organs that kept the armour functional. Minimus felt his optics fritz and fall offline as energon stopped flowing to them. The engine of his minesweeper alt stuttered to a halt and left a horrible silence in the air, though one which was quickly overlayed with the shriek of tortured metal.
The suit that was Minimus Ambus shredded apart around him, until the Legislators could pull him free, slick with energon like a horrific parody of an organic birth. He sprawled on the floor with his fans whirring in agony, his Irreducible self.
At the edge of his sensors, Tyrest made a sound of disgust. "Take him to Pharma," he said. "If he's going to prance and fawn at the commands of criminals let him do it as the mechanimal he is."
Minimus tried to open his mouth to object but he could only make muted noises of pain. Servos grasped him again and he thrashed weakly. He was finding it hard to think as all of his systems screamed error warnings at him, but he had caught the name Pharma and knew nothing good could come of that.
He twitched awake with his motors whirring hard, spooling up ready to run or fight. A gentle servo was running down his spinal strut and someone was muttering soothing nonsense into his audials. He tried to calm down, banish the memory from his processor. That was not so easy. It was still so fresh. Nor had that been the end of the pain...
"Rodimus, I think something really bad must have happened to him." That was Swerve. He'd fallen into recharge with the minibot still holding him. "He was really upset."
"I'm sure you're right," Rodimus replied, his tone dark, disgusted. Minimus wriggled in Swerve's servos, despite knowing he was still low on fuel. There was a reason he'd been recharging, after all. Still he refused to be treated like a terrified mechanimal. That's what they think you are though, he thought to himself. It was intolerable.
They were back on the Lost Light, he saw. Rodimus was in poor condition, obviously injured. He'd seen that before, but with the Legislators attacking and in the chaos of leaving he hadn't quite realised how badly. His paint had bubbled and burnt off in dozens of places, and some of his plating rattled as he walked. He was holding some of it on with his servos, and there were gaps down to his internals where he had already lost parts of it. Yet he hadn't complained or said anything about it.
Minimus found himself whining slightly in distress. It was his fault that Rodimus had gone to Luna 1. In a way maybe it was his fault that Tyrest had gone so off-kilter; maybe if he had been more rigorous about checking in he might have noticed himself that something wasn't right. The killswitch should never have been built, and Rodimus should never have needed to take the chance of dying to stop it.
"Hey Regnus," Rodimus said, noticing his attention, and smiling. "It's all good. We're all good."
Minimus would have to disagree with that statement, not that he had any way of expressing it.
"You should get to the medical bay," Swerve said. "I'll take Regnus to my bar and get him something to eat."
"You better not be planning to feed that fox engex," Ratchet said. He had taken over the duty of carrying Tailgate. It was odd, because Minimus hadn't seen him be injured - and this had started before the fight, when they were back in the cell. What was going on there?
"Of course I wouldn't!" Swerve said, looking hurt. "I've got plenty mid-grade... for when I need to cut bots off of course."
"Yeah, and not for diluting the drinks down or anything," Brainstorm muttered. Swerve ignored that comment.
"C'mon Regnus," he said, "ignore these idiots. They don't have any idea how to take care of a mechanimal. Let's get you fueled."
Lapping energon from a bowl on the floor was unsanitary and humiliating, but Minimus wasn't going to refuse good fuel. His tank wasn't large in this form, and was meant to rely on steady refilling from the photovoltaic cells that lined his plating. Heavy activity or the demands of self-repair could drain it frighteningly fast. When his tank pinged that it was full he sat back on his haunches and fastidiously licked his muzzle clean with his glossa - longer in his alt than in his root mode.
Swerve was distracted by other customers. Minimus glared up at the various mechs occupying the bar. He had permitted Swerve's to keep operating because it allowed him to keep an eye on the troublemakers who would otherwise have been stealing supplies to construct an illicit still somewhere on board - he had served with the Wreckers in the past. He knew more than most might expect about how to brew engex from a wide variety of subpar ingredients. That did not mean he approved, or wished to see behaviour that contravened the Autobot Code when he couldn't do anything about.
He supposed he could chase these offenders around yapping at them, but firstly it would simply be embarrassing, and secondly they would probably just assume he was reacting to the smell of engex and wouldn't respond in a way that would preserve his dignity. So no, he would not be pursuing that course of action.
There had to be a better way to communicate his identity. Perhaps he could find something in his quarters? He padded across the room to the door, then felt his plating lift in irritation when it failed to pick up his presence and stayed firmly closed. He looked around for someone who might be leaving the bar soon. There; Huffer was heading this way, stumbling slightly from the effects of engex intoxication. Minimus waited and slipped out after him, then trotted away through the corridors.
It was strange navigating from this height. As Magnus everything looked very different. It was hard to forget the basic layout of the ship however, and he quickly made it to his room. He paused outside, looking up at the access panel and wondering how he was going to manage this. Could he jump? Perhaps, but that would not give him time to input the access code. Ideally he needed something to climb up. Looking around though, nothing came to processor. He disliked clutter, and the corridors outside of his quarters were bare and empty to match his preference.
Perhaps this wasn't the best plan.
What might be more successful? If he could find an unattended datapad... or perhaps take a chance of going straight to the bridge and trying to write on one of the terminals there. There would be chairs he could use to reach the required height. Surely that kind of behaviour would be remarkable enough that someone would consider the possibility that he was no simple mechanimal?
Yes, he would try that next. It had to work.
-4-
Minimus ran into a familiar problem when he reached the bridge. The door wouldn't open for him. He growled, irritated at himself. Naturally all of the doors on the Lost Light ran the same kind of automatic opening software, and the bridge-door itself was manually operated as a minor level of environmental security. He was no more able to reach the code-pad here than he had been in Swerve's. He also had no reference point for the passage of time, and therefore no way of telling how close it was to a shift change. Perhaps when one came he could slip into the bridge with the arriving mechs.
What was the most logical thing to do now? He did not want to take the chance of going somewhere else and missing the right opportunity. Equally he did not particularly relish the idea of remaining here in the corridor for however many cycles it took for said opportunity to arrive. Still there wasn't much of a choice. He sat down on his haunches, then after a few moments, settled down to lie on his belly. Limbs tucked in to conserve thermal energy, he felt comfortable enough. He could have risked a brief recharge had that been necessary, but given how recently he had refuelled he didn't feel the need. Besides, he didn't wish to experience again the kind of memory-flux he'd had during that most recent recharge.
Minimus had never minded periods of quiet contemplation. He didn't find silence 'dull' or 'boring' as Rodimus so often complained. There was always something that one could do to pass the time, even if it was carried out internally. He personally enjoyed mathematical exercises, or running legal simulations of his own devising. It had been... quite some number of deci-vorns since he had last been required to argue any kind of position before a court of law, since as Enforcer of the Accord he himself had been that court. He needed some method for keeping his skills from rusting.
He occupied himself for several cycles in that manner before he admitted to himself that he was growing anxious. He could hear the occasional sound of movement from inside the bridge - the clang of pedes, the low murmur of conversation - but no-one had come in or out. Perhaps they were right in the middle of a shift?
Was there anything else he could do to communicate? Anything else he could think of? Minimus spent a few breems wracking his processor before his optics flickered to the dull metal surface of the wall with its coat of protective paint. No. No he couldn't possibly. Defacing the ship would be an act of vandalism that he simply couldn't countenance.
No, somebody would be along eventually, and then he could do this in a civilised manner.
"Thanks doc," Rodimus said, rotating his arm through a full range of movement to make sure that nothing fell off this time. That had been... unpleasant. Parts of your body falling off generally were.
"Don't call me that," Ratchet said, wiping off his soldering iron and putting it away neatly in one of the medbay drawers. "Now don't stress those welds, and come see me after your shift. I'll have prepared some energon additives for you by then. Self-repair should take care of whatever damage is left."
"I'll be good," Rodimus lied, grinning. It wasn't really an intentional lie. He just knew there was bound to be something that came up which needed his personal attention, some new wacky happenstance like all the others which had made their journey interesting so far.
"Sure you will," Ratchet said, with the face of a mech who'd heard that from Rodimus too many times before.
Rodimus didn't stick around due to the high chance of being threatened with a wrench to make him behave. Besides, he was needed on the bridge. They couldn't have their captain taking too much time off in medbay. There was too much to do, quest stuff to focus on and the like.
Besides which there was... that other matter. The Overlord thing. That he was going to come clean about.
After Luna-1 it just seemed the thing to do.
Anyway if the crew knew that it was really his fault then they could get Drift to come back to the ship. If Rodimus could find out where he'd gone. If he answered Roddy's comm call. If he actually wanted to come back, which he... might not. Taking the fall might have been the last straw. There certainly didn't seem to be any good reason that Drift would still want to be his friend.
Focused on his own thoughts so much, Rodimus almost tripped over the turbofox lying in the hallway. Only the flash of bright colour out of the corner of his optics made him stop.
"Regnus?" Rodimus asked, looking down at the 'fox folded up into a little sphere of plating with a head and tail. "Why on earth... how did you get away from Swerve? He was supposed to be looking after you!" Rodimus felt himself starting to get angry. What kind of mechanimal-lover did Swerve think he was if he couldn't even keep an optic on a turbofox he was meant to be feeding.
Regnus unfolded, stood up, and looked at Rodimus with his head cocked to one side. He was frankly adorable. "I'm not annoyed at you," Rodimus said, then vented out. It wasn't like Regnus could understand him. Given what he suspected of the pet's previous owner he would have to be careful of his tone. It might be some time before Regnus even bonded with him enough to allow himself to be petted.
He couldn't leave the mechanimal out here alone anyway.
"C'mon," he said, patting the side of his thigh, hoping someone had taught the turbofox to heel in the past. He punched in his code and entered the bridge with Regnus trotting obediently right alongside him. Once inside however, the 'fox broke away, interest clearly caught by all the unfamiliar mechs and strange surroundings. Regnus sniffed at an empty chair next to where Blaster was managing the comms by himself, like he preferred to do the stubborn glitch, before the turbofox executed an elegant leap up into the chair itself. The whole bridge turned to look.
"Where'd you get this handsome creature?" Blaster asked, turning in his chair to stare at Regnus, who seemed to be judging the distance between the chair and the lip of the console.
"Luna-1," Rodimus replied, shrugging. "Hey don't crowd him though, okay? We don't think he's been well-treated in the past."
"Who would mistreat such a lovely mechanimal," Blaster said, starting to put a servo out.
"Watch it," Rodimus warned him. "You might lose a digit that way. Regnus isn't so keen on touch."
"Did you really name it something so... banal... as Regnus?" That comment was from Mirage.
"Apparently nobody liked my other names," Rodimus said, irritated. "What would you have gone for anyway?"
"Oh I don't know," Mirage replied. "Something a little less... déclassé."
"Did you ever keep a turbofox?" Powerglide asked. "A sleek creature like that... only a noble could afford it." He was right. Most of the native mechanimals of Cybertron had died out some time before the Golden Age for one reason or another - mostly loss of their natural territory. Those that were left lived in zoos or the towers and residences of Cybertron's upper class. The first time Rodimus had ever seen a turbofox was off-planet - the only place healthy wild populations had survived.
"Only for hunting," Mirage said, shrugging. He rolled his optics at the gasps of shock that statement prompted. Rodimus hadn't, but he'd wanted to. What kind of wasteful... "Oh don't all look so surprised," Mirage told them. "It was a sport like any other. Kinder in many ways than some of Cybertron's popular entertainment. How many of you watched the fights out of Tarn and Kaon? At least this way I got a rather nice cloak out of it."
"You better leave Regnus alone, that's all," Rodimus said firmly, then turned to check on the 'fox. Regnus was on top of the console now, unmoving, plating and audials flattened tight down to his body and teeth bared in Mirage's direction.
"Oh please," Mirage said. "Look at the feral little thing. I'm not touching it with a twenty-metron pole."
"Hey," Rodimus said disapprovingly, and went over to try and soothe Regnus. Had it been something in Mirage's tone that set him off? Were turbofoxes smart enough to recognise a few words? He supposed they responded to their names, and simple commands like 'sit' or 'shake', so surely they must. Perhaps it had been 'hunting', although really who knew.
Seeing him approach, Regnus shook himself all over, and seemed to settle out of his aggressive stance. He padded across the desk towards Blaster's untended keyboard and started to paw at it. Rodimus laughed.
"You reckon he's trying to tell you something?" he asked Blaster, grinning.
"That'd be a neat trick," Blaster replied, with his own smile. He grabbed Regnus around the middle and lifted him off the desk. "Down you go boy," he said, ignoring Regnus' irritated yaps. "Better get back to work and stop letting you distract us all huh?"
"Yeah, on that front," Rodimus said, looking down at the deck. "I have... um. Something of an announcement to make."
Rodimus had done what? Minimus could barely focus on the disaster his attempt at typing had been in the face of his utter astonishment. Just when he thought he had come to terms with Rodimus' bad decisions he confessed to something like this. Smuggling Overlord on board, hiding it from most of the crew including his own second-in-command, and failing to take any kind of responsibility for the consequences of his actions until this moment. He had even allowed someone else to take the fall for him - or perhaps forced him into it. Drift's affection for their Captain had never been much of a secret, after all.
Rodimus stood in the centre of the bridge with all optics on him, visibly wilting under the attention.
"So I understand that mechs are going to be angry about this," he said. "It was... I shouldn't have let Prowl talk me into it. That's why I'm apologising now. I thought I should give the crew a choice, anyway. About what happens next. After everything that wasn't what you signed up for... you deserve to get a chance to make your opinions known."
"What exactly were you thinking of?" Blaster asked.
"A vote," Rodimus replied. "On whether you still want me as your Captain. You think you could get that set up?"
Blaster nodded. "I take it you'll want to do some kind of ship-wide broadcast?"
"Yeah," Rodimus said. "Just basically tell them exactly what I just told you."
"I can pull the audio from the security cameras," Blaster said. "I'll put something together, let you okay it before it goes out."
Rodimus nodded. He went over to almost collapse down into the Captain's chair. "I'll just... wait for you to do that," he said. The rest of the bridge crew looked around at each other. This was shaping up to be one of the more awkward shifts Minimus had ever witnessed, and he was glad he didn't have to work through it. If he had still been in the armour how would he have responded to this?
Demanded Rodimus explain his reasoning, most likely. For all the good that would do either of them.
He couldn't ask anything trapped like this. A quick analysis told him Blaster wasn't likely to let him near his console again while he still had work to do, and there were no other consoles active that would be easy for him to reach and access. It looked like he was stuck here on the bridge until Rodimus left at the end of his shift.
Minimus curled up on the deck underneath Blaster's desk and activated his waiting protocols again. He would make another attempt to communicate when he got the chance.