[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]What You Think You Know - [Closed]

[Ratchet]

Ratchet had turned back to Bumblebee, getting him ready for a full evaluation. His first plan was to check the scout’s helm for some sign of processor damage. Something that would have caused this. There was no damage visible, but that didn’t mean anything. Damage could be on the inside, and if he had to, Ratchet would carefully open Bee’s helm and look over his processor for any sign of trauma or damage. If there was nothing there, then he would have to open the scout’s chest, and start looking there. His scanners weren’t giving him anything useful, so it would be back to the old way. Exploratory surgery.

After Jazz left, Ratchet turned back to watch as Optimus eased himself back to the slab. He wasn’t looking good.

The medic was about to say something when he saw Carbine ease back inside and stand with his back to a wall. It was a typical pose of non-medical workers, wanting to stay as far away from anything important as possible.

His pose, however, was not completely normal, as Ratchet’s vision zoomed in on the way the mech was holding his hand. Even from here, the medic could see the odd crystals formed on the servo. Carbine’s posture indicated either his hand was hurting, or he wasn’t sure what was going on with the crystals…or both.

He remembered seeing the same odd crystal structures forming in the energon that had been spilled outside, and glancing back at Bumblebee, he could see there were still some on Bee’s chest, where he had vomited over himself.

Ratchet narrowed his eyes, his mind started to whirl again.

If the crystals were forming outside Bee’s body, then it’s likely something was in Bee’s line energon, that was spilled everywhere. There was something new in his energon that caused that reaction. It was infected with something that could survive outside Bee. There was a single factor that enabled it to crystallize outside of the scout’s frame. And if that can happen, it was entirely likely it could continue to survive outside the body. He had thought it was some strange reaction to Bee’s internal processes and tank, but that shouldn’t affect the energon spilled outside. It shouldn’t continue to be crystallized on Carbine’s hand.

Something was spreading.

“Carbine!” Ratchet’s voice was sharp and loud in the medibay. He wasn’t angry, but his voice clearly carried to the mech. Raising an arm, Ratchet pointed to the far corner of the medibay, back in a little alcove.

“There’s an emergency shower back there. Get in and clean off your hand…your arm. The entire arm, and anywhere else you see energon or those crystals. Now. Stand in the corner, under the faucet head, and pull the chain. Stay there until the water stops running….in fact, stay there anyway, till I can look at your hand. There’s a bottle, a red bottle near the shower, and a cloth. Open it, pour it on your hand, anywhere those crystals are, and scrub. Move.”

What was going on? What had happened?

“Javelin, check Sideswipe for crystals, and Optimus. And yes, get him a cube - half of the largest ones, then check him for crystals too. Check your own hands - if you see any crystals or energon there, clean with the same stuff Carbine is using, at the sink, and reapply the oil to your hands.”

Ratchet looked back at Bumblebee, and left the small area where the scout was resting, to move out into the medibay proper. He was moving towards a cabinet where Javelin had gotten the cleaning agent for Sideswipe. Bumblebee was going to have to be completely cleaned and checked.

It seemed the scout had somehow introduced some sort of infectious agent into the base. Unintentionally, of course, but still.

Redipping his own hands to ensure they were sanitized, Ratchet carried a large container of the cleanser and rags back to where the scout was lying. He carefully began to pour the cleanser straight from the bottle onto Bee’s frame, letting the silver liquid run and pool in the natural creases and lines of his body, running down his sides until they dripped to the floor, before starting to apply the rags in an attempt to dissolve the crystals and clean Bumblebee.

Ratchet opened his comm to Jazz long enough to pass along a quick suggestion.

::Jazz, you should head to the washracks and shower. If you have any odd crystals on you, let me know. Otherwise, clean up. There may have been something contagious with Bumblebee.::

Ratchet was pretty sure he hadn’t seen any crystals on the other mech when he had looked him over, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He knew Jazz didn’t want anyone pestering him, but a shower was something easy the mech could do, on his own, and was just a safety precaution.

The odd crystals were loosening slightly under the barrage of acidic cleanser and his scrubbing, but they went unwillingly, and Ratchet was a little alarmed at the persistence the things seemed to be showing.

What in the All-Spark was this?

[Javelin]

Javelin had just finished cleaning Sideswipe and was getting ready to more towards Optimus when she heard Ratchet’s voice call out. She flinched for a second, thinking the black and white mech had done something wrong, and was now making the medic angry. Oh things were just getting worse and worse.

She looked up to see Carbine standing with his back to a wall, and holding his hand out like it had been stung or something. Then, as Ratchet’s instructions moved out through the medibay, she turned back to Sideswipe again.

Crystals? On Sideswipe? She quickly scanned the frontliner’s face and chest area, and then his hands, looking for anyplace he might have been in contact with Bumblebee. The only energon she had seen on him had been normal, no crystals in it, and she had cleaned it all off. Had that been enough? She didn’t know, she wasn’t a doctor, but she had cleaned him as best as possible and she couldn’t see any crystals.

Casting Carbine a worried glance, she started inspecting her own hands for the strange crystals. All she could see was a little energon from Sideswipe’s injuries and that was it. Uneasy, unsure why the medic was so intent on the crystals, Javelin moved to the sink area and quickly rinsed her hands anyway, reapplying the oil as directed.

Now what? What was she - oh right.

She moved swiftly towards the energon dispenser. She hadn’t even know there was one inside the medibay until Ratchet pointed it out, but she supposed it made sense. Everyone had to eat, even injured mecha, right?

She dragged out one of the larger cubes, set it beneath the dispenser, and started to pour. While that was taking place, the blue scout stole a quick look around.

The medibay looked like a warzone. Bee was out, and covered in energon and those weird crystals. One arm half missing, leg severely damaged. Ratchet’s shoulder had a large hole in it, but didn’t seem to be leaking energon. The edges looked burned, though, it must have been an energy weapon.

Sideswipe’s face was a ruined mess at the moment. Cleaned, it didn’t look any better, for now the energon and gore had been cleaned and the jagged edges were more visible. Likewise, the Prime himself looked bad, and woozy.

There was energon splatters on the floor, though no crystals she could see, in her limited line of vision.

At least it was quiet. Ish. The last time she had been in a medibay with such injured people, there had been groans and screams of pain and shock.

Some had been her own….

Javelin shook her helm angrilly. Now was not the time.

She turned off the spout on the dispenser, and carried the energon towards Optimus. Her own levels were low, but she was too wired, too anxious and frightened to even feel it at the moment. Trying not to spill any - the cube was rather large in her smaller hands, she managed to bring it over to Optimus.

“Here, sir, your energon. Once you drink that down, I’ll inspect you for the crystals and then clean your injuries, as Ratchet ordered. Sir.”

She felt like she was trembling in place slightly, optics wide. The fields of all those around her were jagged and cut like diamonds. The Prime’s especially, angry and outraged, upset and confused, and hurt from his injuries. Javelin wasn’t a medical worker and felt buffeted by everything going on around her.

[Optimus Prime]

The snapped words at Carbine, easily pulled Optimus' attention up with a lurch.

He had not been aware that the Cybertronian had re-entered the area, and was equally as alarmed to know that something new was going bad. The tone of voice Ratchet had used was rather telling. If Carbine had broken something, or was fumbling with a device, the name would have been spoken with venom and anger behind it, to cut down the antics and curb them instantly. However, there was perhaps a bit of alarm in play, which meant something was going wrong that didn't pertain to simple shenanigans.

Optimus' frame turned a bit on the berth, trying to look over and get a bead on what was happening. This was futile though, for while he could pinpoint where Carbine and Ratchet were, he was unable to decipher details, relying on the words that followed to try to piece together what had gone wrong. He truly hoped the black and white mech hadn't done something out of line, they were already in trouble a lot of the time, and that simply was not something Optimus had the energy for at the moment after he had to contend with Jazz.

Crystals? What crystals?

The remaining optic whirled and tried to focus through the damage in play, the lens grinding slightly as it rotated through the thin channels.

What sort of crystals were they dealing with? What could even CAUSE such things? Optimus looked down at his hand he had just ran over his faceplate, wondering if there were any flecks of light scattered across the surface he should be wary of, but he couldn’t see anything. He didn’t even know if they were small crystalline powders like glitter, or if it was larger formations. His thoughts on this were cut off however when Javelin seemed to appear out of nowhere, his stance tightening a moment while gaze tried to focus down on her.

The cracked lens peered down at the small femme, almost scrutinizing at first, though it was merely his attempt to get some detail on the situation and see better. Within the mass of splotched colors, as if seeing through a film of oil, Optimus could pick out the concept of the cube, and he carefully reached forward to take it in hand.

"Thank you."

Calmer words that were more forced into a relax state than actually being in one. Some tension still crept behind the statement, but it was ire at the situation, and not something that should be lashed down upon one who was innocent. Because of this, the Prime tried to relax, focusing on bringing the cube of fuel up so that he could down it and stabilize his systems.

There was guilt. It was so hard not to feel guilt... a disgusting sort of shame in drinking down Energon in front of someone else who was also hungry. While Optimus skipped some rations, and kept his fuel lower so that others could get more for longer, when he did eat it was often in the privacy of his own room. He was not one to do so in a public area, even more so when he knew his portions were rather large due to his larger frame. There was an extremely difficult challenge to look at logic and only logic to see such a thing as fair when it looked so skewed.

Begrudgingly finishing the cube only because he knew he needed it all, Optimus would carefully place the empty vessel to his side, before he looked back at Javelin. While he knew she was now tasked to look over his injury and check for the crystals, he figured she could also catch him up a bit. Speaking in a lower tone, to not disturb Ratchet or what was going on across the way, Optimus made a simple request.

"Javelin, I cannot see. Tell me, what is happening."

[Carbine]

"I͠ ͟di͠ḑn’̸t d̨o̶ anyt̢h́in͝g̷!"

An instantaneous cry, an alarmed state, Carbine's rotors and posture hiked up in response to his name being snapped out.

He was on the defensive, and it was no mystery as to why. Things had been wound so tight these last few moments that the metaphorical spring was bound to snap and break some things around it in the process, and he very much did not intend to be anywhere near that when it snapped and ripped people apart. Optimus already seemed to snap once, and that just meant more trouble was on the horizon. Carbine would much rather be with Bolo and the kids if he had his say in it... but... whatever was on his hand was something that needed to get looked into, and trying to stall and dance around that was no good. That said, he had not touched anything! Why was Ratchet yelling at him!?

Oh... wait... no that made sense...

As Carbine's panicked mind caught up to what was being asked of him, the mech seemed to relax a slight bit, looking a bit less like he was ready to bolt out of the door. While he still seemed alarmed and put at unease, his rotors were pulled back to smoothly flow down along either side of his spine, trying to almost hide instead of being flared out, while his left arm pulled near his chest with an added level of concern. A sort of squinted look peered down at the appendage, before looking up at Ratchet while he laid out the instructions.

He had been so good about disregarding the crystals and not giving them any second thought, but after Ratchet showed concern? It caused a sort of fear to come into play. It was not unlike a child with a cut, who did not cry in alarm until the parents showed distress. If the medic was upset by it, it had to be bad right? And it had to be rare, considering Carbine never dealt with anything like this before, and he's seen a lot of messed up stuff in his days!

Fumbling, Carbine seemed a bit caught off guard by the instructions and sudden attention, unsure where to go at first, until he got his bearings and swallowed down his anxiety. Once he found his legs again, the black and white mech bee-lined straight towards the shower, using his right hand to pick up the red bottle and a rag to tuck it under the left, before stepping inside and grabbing the chain.

Pulling perhaps a bit too hard for the moment, Carbine would shy away instantly as the spray splattered down against his armor, almost squinting as if he expected it to get in his eyes, despite that not being a concern for him. It was only a moment before he 'recovered' and he then angled his frame so that the water was mostly hitting his left shoulder, and running down the limb to splatter and run off of his fingertips in thick lines, a thicker trail following down from his wrist. It sounded awfully hollow as the water pelted against his armor, a pattering noise that betrayed just how many voids were beneath his outer shell.

Moving the red bottle back to his right hand, Carbine pinched the screw top between his shoulder and chin, ripping the top off of the container with a wrenching motion that somewhat deformed the actual plastic lid a bit. He normally may be concerned for breaking the cranky medic's things, but more was on his mind at the moment. With the chemical now available, the ex-cop held his hand outside of the immediate spray, and started to douse the contents all over his hand and wrist, even going so far as to pour it along his forearm as well. After he did this, he set the bottle down, before using the rag and starting to push and smear at the crystals.

They were... they were really stuck on there. The small shards of blue tore and ripped at the fabric mesh that he had obtained, and were not really dissolving with any speed. A few chunks did fall off though, the subtle sound akin to pebbles or bits of glass hitting the bottom of the shower that was nearly lost under the sound of the spray. It wasn’t a fast process, but progress was progress, though perhaps it could be expedited...

Lifting a thumb, Carbine placed the flat panel of the digit flush against his other palm just before a crystal, before he tried to use the other joint as a scraper to forcibly pry the material free. This worked for a few of the smaller pieces, but the moment he tried it upon a larger one near his joint, it seemed more like a mistake than any sort of clever idea.

A sharp hiss, a lurch, Carbine edged his back towards the far side of the shower, grasping his left hand close to his body a moment. It didn’t hurt a LOT all things considered, but it had startled him, the pain an unexpected outcome. After the shock of the moment ebbed away, Carbine lifted his servo to peer at his joint, where the crystal had shattered and ground into the hinges and beneath some of the more delicate lines between the plates, some of the loose bits washing away in the water.

Refocusing his attention, Carbine grabbed the red bottle once again, and poured some of the contents directly onto the hinge, hoping that it would eat away at the things to get the gritty feeling to go away.

[Javelin]

Javelin stood before Optimus, looking up at him. She was trying not to see the damage done to his face. That wasn’t too bad - but the faint crunching sound of his optic as the parts moved and shifted over grit made her feel a little ill. Not bad enough to leave, or empty her tank or anything, just….a little ill.

Even watching the Prime drink the energon didn’t affect her much. She was hungry, yes, but still wasn’t as severely depleted as some at the base, and in all honesty, she was too tense, too high strung to even really notice it. Even if some had been offered to her, she probably couldn’t have drunk it.

And Javelin didn’t begrudge the Prime taking fuel. The leader needed to be sharp and on point, all the time, so it made sense for him not to be going empty. She would rather be hungry and know her leader was running at good capacity than be topped up herself but not trust her leader’s choices or decisions because hunger was dulling them.

Javelin had made her choice long ago as to who her leader would be, and she fully expected him to do that.

Lead.

His gentle order, however, left her feeling a little confused. She had only blundered into what had happened not that long ago - surely Optimus himself knew more than she did?

“I’m not sure about much myself, sir. I’ll try to describe what I’m seeing…Bumblebee is badly injured - he’s missing an arm and his leg is really damaged. Ratchet is tending to him, only he’s got a hole in his shoulder. Um…Sideswipe’s face is….extremely damaged. I don’t know what happened, here, sir, I’m sorry.”

As she spoke, Javelin took new cleansing cloths and cleanser she had used on Sideswipe, as well as another few patches, and prepared to start cleaning Optimus, while looking for the crystals Ratchet mentioned.

“I’m going to clean you up now, sir, and inspect you.”

A gentle warning. Not sure just how much Optimus could or couldn’t see, Javelin still felt enough tension in the Medibay to not want to startle the large mech by having him not prepared for touch.

“Your face first, sir.”

Javelin gently removed the patch that had recently been applied to Optimus. She didn’t want it to seem she thought it wasn’t on right, but she wanted to be sure it was cleaned underneath. Javelin didn’t want to overlook a possible site of rust because she hadn’t cleaned completely. Gently starting to draw the soaked cloth along the side of the Prime’s face to start cleaning off grit and the ash of burn, she started talking again.

“There’s a lot of energon spilled, sir, and it seems to be…crystallizing. Not like energons original form, either. They’re strange looking. Sort of translucent - see-through? It’s like the energon wants to go back to it’s original state but can’t. I can’t explain it much better than that, sir, how they look. I’m sorry.”

Having finished cleaning off the side of his face, careful not to cause pain to the damaged parts of his helm, Javelin started trying to carefully clean around his damaged optic, without resorting to just squirting the cleanser straight into the socket, although she feared that might be what was eventually needed. She used the very corner of a pad to try and ease debris away from the injury.

“Ratchet told Carbine to clean off any of those crystals that were on him….maybe they’re still dangerous somehow? I don’t know.” Javelin cast a look over her shoulder to where the black and white mech was in the shower, “He’s cleaning off now. I have none on me, and I didn’t see any on Sideswipe.”

Moving now to the lower half of his face, where his face shield was severely damaged and half blown off, she again started to clean, being careful not to snag the cloths on any warped, sharp edge. There wasn’t as much dirt or debris here, just damage.

The femme gave the Prime’s damaged optic a hard look over.

“I think I’ve cleaned off what I can, sir, without going into your eye socket, and that’s something Ratchet will obviously have to see to. I’m not seeing any crystals on you directly. Just a moment.”

Javelin cautiously reached out, and taking one of the Prime’s arms by the wrist, she carefully - so as not to cause any pain if he were injured - lifted his arm and rotated slightly, looking at the underside of his arm. Seeing nothing, she did the same with his other, not wanting to miss anything. She was thankful Optimus was awake. There was such a size difference between the scout and the Prime she doubted it would have been easy for her if he were completely powered down.

Not seeing anything, letting his arms rest again, she made a swift circuit around the berth he sat on, peering at his back and shoulders. Still not seeing anything, she returned to stand before him.

Opening another patch to replace the first one, Javelin began carefully reapplying it, pressing on the edges to ensure it stuck.

“You seem to be crystal free, sir. Are you in any pain? Well…any pain I might be able to help with? Anything I can get you? And….were we attacked, sir? I didn’t hear any alarms.”

[Ratchet]

Under the once gentle but growing harsher attention by Ratchet, the crystals were loosening and peeling away. Faint clinks and tinkles could barely be heard over the sound of the rest of the commotion in the medibay.

Some of the larger crystals did not want to come off willingly, and Ratchet found himself literally trying to pry the things loose. Small divots, dents and almost holes were left as they came loose, giving Ratchet the eerie feeling the energon had either found small dents and the like to pool in and harden, or else they were literally trying to burrow or eat into the scout’s upper mesh.

Each time a crystal left an indentation behind, Ratchet would pour a generous amount of the cleanser , letting it pool into the depression, in the hopes it might dissolve any microscopic residue left behind.

As he worked, checking the scout over carefully but completely, the medic’s mind searched his processor for what this could possibly be.

Their species didn’t get sick very often. They could succumb to poison, yes, and viruses could cause trouble with their processors. The Rust Plague, Zero Point and other sicknesses were known of, but so rare. Zero Point alone was enough to cause any medic nightmares, considering there was no known cure.

So what was he dealing with? Virus-infected energon? A new plague? If so, was it an accidental creation, or intentionally made?

Lifting Bumblebee’s arms and legs to make sure he was checking the underside, he kept thinking.

His natural reaction would be to blame the Decepticons. They were usually at the heart of anything sickening and twisted, and they had the resources to create something like this. But if so, how had they managed to infect Bumblebee?

So many questions, and no time for answers!

Ratchet listened as Javelin spoke to Optimus, and mentally nodded when he heard the shower start up. At least Carbine was cleaning up. He hoped Jazz had gotten his message.

After making sure there were no more visible crystals on the scout, Ratchet looked back to the monitor again, checking Bumblebee’s status.

The scout was still in horrible shape. The energon he had put in his lines had at least stopped him from crashing, but he needed to be seen to right away. In the back of his mind, Ratchet worried Bumblebee’s internals might be as infected as his outer mesh - his lines, tank and other components lined with those crystals.

It wasn’t the best time, and everything seemed to be going against them, but he was going to have to open Bumblebee up and make sure his innards weren’t clogged.

[Optimus Prime]

Much of what Javelin said were things he could already piece together, though Optimus did not interrupt her nor ask a more pointed question. It was sometimes the smallest of details that could mean a lot, and that was what he was holding out for, hoping that she would say something that he didn’t catch onto with his limited vision before. It was while he listened, that she wanted to work on his injury, and so he complied.

After her statement she wanted to look at his face first, the Prime placed his fingertips down on the edge of the cube, lifting the container up so that he didn't knock it over while he moved. A careful reposition, he edged a bit further onto the slab for balance, before he eased forward as far as reasonable so that his features and his injury would be more viewable with their rather notable height difference. To help make himself stable so he didn't move while she worked, he draped his right forearm over his lap, leaning upon it somewhat to steady himself.

The patch peeled away easily from the injury, showing the damage clearly now that the fuel loss had been somewhat halted. The fiber like material had absorbed a lot of the Energon out from the cracks and crevices, giving a good view of the burnt metal and the scoring that etched through the wound. Optimus did not move during this, nor when she started to clean the damage, the only action being an occasionally flick of his optic that was more trying to focus than any attempt to flinch or show pain.

Optimus was easy to work on with these sort of things. He was skilled at ignoring pain outright, and could stomach down a lot of agony when he was tasked with it. This action of the fibers scraping against the raw 'nerves' didn’t enact a flinch, his mind focused on trying to pick apart her words and actually THINK now that things have gone a bit more quiet.

Earth seemed cursed in a way.

With every boon and natural wonder, came with it a new trouble or mystery.

"No need to apologize, I believe we are all confused."

Rumbled assurances, Optimus holding as still as he could by trying to focus on a far blobby point on the wall while she tried to clean around his injured eye. While he could will himself well, there were some involuntary movements as she got so close to the optic itself. A flinch, a whir, the bottom of an eyelid attempting to close but held back at bay... Javelin's next words confirmed already what he partly feared however, a low rumble formed as he chewed over the idea that his optic was so damaged she had called it a socket.

Bypassing that, the Prime eased upright when she wanted to look over his frame, letting his limbs lift up at her guidance, before draping back down to his side, still holding onto the empty cube so he didn’t unintentionally bump it in the process and make a clatter. It was indeed a boon that he was conscious for this, as it may have been a bit of a challenge for the femme, given that if he was out cold, he would probably be on his back, and Optimus somewhat doubted she would be able to flip him unless she just pulled/wrenched him clean off the berth so he fell face down.

Easing forward once again so she could bandage, he spoke again.

"I am fine, thank you."

Then he had to chew over the real question.

"Bumblebee is unwell, and attacked. We do not know what has happened, but it understandably caught us unaware. A want to not bring harm to him, resulted in more injuries than were necessary. "

[Carbine]

"-in fact, stay there anyway, till I can look at your hand."

How long was he going to be stuck in here? Was this a few minutes sort of thing, or was this a 'maybe I will come by in an hour'? Doctors seemed to have that wayward concept of time, where you make an appointment for one point, and they see you when it damn well suits their needs. Carbine really hoped it wasn't one of those situations however, wanting to figure out if he was ok, and wanting to make sure he didn’t now have some demonic parasite residue still all over.

He couldn't see any flecks of blue anywhere anymore. Every last trace of the scout's Energon, was cleanly washed away, along with whatever dirt had been naturally collected on his armor. For a brief moment, Carbine considered that his forearms were probably cleaner than they have been in ages in his panicked cleaning, all of the dust from Earth and dirt collected over these months in the tight crevices and points, from sea water salts to garbage slime, now stripped away under an aggressive wash and cleanser. He half wondered if the white on his armor had been taken a shade brighter, but he was willing to bet it was just an illusion, like how the black portions looked even darker when under the film of water.

This novel idea didn’t do well to keep him occupied for long however, the water from the shower turning off, so that he could try to listen in and get a better idea on what was going on.

He wanted out of here. It wasn’t a claustrophobic response, hardly... he did not feel like he had to mule kick the door off the emergency shower to get fresh air and a place to stretch his arms, but he did not enjoy being told to stay put in what was basically a tiny box. It reminded him a lot of prison, trapped in a cell, waiting for when it was convenient for someone else to let you out to get food or have any semblance of free time... It annoyed him, but the constant nagging reminder that stuff had gone absolutely WRONG here kept him from voicing this fact with a sarcastic yell or an inappropriate joke.

Smearing his back down against the far wall, Carbine slowly slid down to sit on the floor of the emergency shower, pulling his legs up so that they were loosely propped up in front of him. His right hand reached out, smearing some of the water off his shins in the process, watching how what remained started to bead up on the surface. His rotors splayed out awkwardly at his sides, bowing uncomfortably forward in their attempt to keep straight despite a floor.

Rumbled talking... nothing he could pick up on. No real details to work with, but he could tell it wasn’t Ratchet talking anymore. Whatever the case, Carbine took in a sharp invent, before he exhaled slowly, trying to be tolerant while wondering how the children were doing with Bolo.

[Javelin]

Javelin stood before Optimus, reapplying the bandage, her optics still moving over his form just in case one wayward crystal managed to somehow have escaped her notice.

But her optics snapped up to his face, widened, startled when he spoke, the bandage slipping slightly to hang askew over the Prime’s face. She hurriedly attempted to right it again, almost clumsily patting it into place.

“Bumblebee did this? Sick? But….how sick was….I mean….”

She faltered, not able to really put into words what she was thinking.

She had only met the other scout not that long ago, and had interacted with him a scant few times. But he hadn’t seemed the type to have this amount of aggression in him. Even if he were sick….you still had to be aggressive to do all this….didn’t you? There was “I have a really bad headache in my helm” sick and then there was this.

Like many Autobots, Javelin had heard tales about the yellow scout that had stood up to Megatron and survived. Like some, she had figured they were mostly exaggerated to some degree…..one didn’t just shrug off an attack by Megatron unless you were a massive mech. But one thing that all the stories shared was Bumblebee’s loyalty to the Autobot code. While some rumors and tales swirled here and there, as they did about all mecha who became well known, one never changed, and that was the scout’s loyalty.

So if Bumblebee did this….

Javelin shook her head, trying to reign in her confusion, “I’m rambling. Excuse me. Is…is anyone else hurt? Is there anything you want me to be doing? I saw the…the area of attack outside, I can start trying to clean that up if you wish, see what damage has been done.”

Javelin turned, peering over her shoulder to the curtained area, “Is Bumblebee going to be alright, Sir?”

She frowned, worried. They were so low on energon, so outnumbered and now this?

[Ratchet]

Ratchet began mentally preparing for opening Bumblebee up.

Normally, usually….when the base wasn’t in complete disarray and his medibay wasn’t in slings and arrows with injured mecha and unconscious patients and strange crystalline energon littering the floors….Ratchet took his time to get ready to operate. Things had to be done in a certain order, and rushing only caused trouble. Not problems - Ratchet hadn’t made a basic mistake in eons when it came to surgery. But nothing good ever came from rushing. Tools had to be collected, provisions made for certain events.

All that was out the window. Ratchet was starting to get a bad feeling this was going to be something beyond anything he was used to - the strange crystals alone told him that. And like in many things in the medical field - the longer you waited for treatment, the worse things were.

That being said, he had other patients to check up on, and make sure they weren’t slipping down a level in the triage scale.

Leaving Bumblebee alone for a few minutes, he pushed his way out past the curtain, letting his optics range over his medibay. Taking stock again.

Sideswipe first.

Moving towards the unconscious frontliner, Ratchet checked his vitals again, giving him a quick secondary scan. While his injuries were severe and would be painful if he were awake, they weren’t life threatening. Like a human with a badly broken arm, Sideswipe would definately need tending to, but his injuries could wait as long as he remained unconscious and therefore no shock threatening to overtake his system.

“I’m sorry Sideswipe,” Ratchet said, giving the mech a light pat on his chest, “I haven’t forgotten you, I promise.”

Moving on from Sideswipe, Ratchet moved to the shower to where Carbine was slumped ungracefully on the floor. The medic was pleased to see the mech had done a decent job at scrubbing himself, but he frowned faintly at what he saw.

Reaching out, Ratchet took ahold of Carbine’s arm, and pulled it slightly forward to take a closer look at his hand. The small divots and dents left behind by the crystals were worrisome. Had they been attempting to…burrow?

“Is there any pain? Any burning or tingling?”

He carefully rotated the servo as he inspected it, optics slightly narrowed.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus watched Javelin while she worked, but he didn't really seem to be peering at her with any level of focus. It was just an odd look in his gaze, an off sort of thing that was more felt than being able to properly describe when one were to observe. The lens plate did not contract to focus; the actual gaze aimed a bit high... despite appearing as if he wasn’t however, he was paying close heed to her general movements, words, and the tone in her voice, noting how the shock seemed to make her pull back enough that the bandage slipped before she started to speak.

The Prime also pulled back ever so slightly when the bandage flopped over, more of a subtle flinch that was not very sharp or abrupt, having not expected it. He settled instantly afterwards though, allowing her to easy place it back down and secure it so that it would not move once again. The action ached, the injury was sore, but it was a sort of pain he could shove away, allowing him to evaluate her following words fully, though a brow did pull up a bit at her first question, when he had asked her to be his eyes a moment prior. That said, what came after her question about injuries, was something he could actually contend with.

"While cleaning will need to occur, Ratchet is short of staff."

There was no way that Optimus was going to step in, and tell Javelin to clean the spilt Energon if Ratchet needed an extra pair of hands. It did not matter if the medic only needed her to hold something for him, or to play fetch, as any assistance at all could be very valuable and could help keep his attention focused where it needed to be. Cleaning could come later. There was some reassurances as well, in the fact that Optimus recalled Ratchet telling Carbine to take the children somewhere safe, and even if they escaped? He trusted even Miko wouldn’t touch such a dangerous chemical to organics.

"-He could use whatever help you are able to offer."

After he said this, he heard the sound of the curtain being pushed aside, helm raising a bit to instinctively turn a small amount, as if trying to hear what Ratchet may be doing. It was then he heard the words spoken to Sideswipe, and it pained Optimus knowing just how short of staff the medic actually was. Sure they had people on the base that knew first aid, but... no surgeons that could actually be trying to help and fix frames, only patch and wait.

As Ratchet walked further away to go deal with Carbine, Optimus' helm turned back to Javelin.

"I trust Ratchet will find solutions."

Relaxed words. This was not a statement to simply sooth Javelin, it was an expression from the Prime on how much faith he put in the other mech. If anyone would be able to find a solution to all of this and repair Bumblebee? It was him. Sure, some things couldn’t always be fixed as good as new due to their limited supplies and tools, such as the young scout's voice, but he trusted that Ratchet would keep him alive, and eventually reverse whatever made him snap like he had. There had to be a simple explanation, there had to be a cause that could be traced back...

[Carbine]

The black and white mech instantly perked up when Ratchet approached.

"Hey Ratch', nice̛ ̀to ̨see͝ ͢you tơo!"

Joked words, a tired attempt to lighten things a bit.

Carbine looked over when his arm was grabbed, the vague shape of his eyes narrowing a bit at being manhandled like that. He supposed it didn't really matter though, and while he could have tried to play up the humor a bit and let Ratchet lift his hand to see a nice middle finger ((something he learned from movies he liked)), he instead left his hand open and loose, so that the medic could actually see across the plates and hinges unobstructed.

The ex-cops hands were not in good shape, and it wasn’t really apparent how much of it was old and how much was new. Small scrapes, dings, divots and marks, some areas were painted over and repaired, others left a bit barren... when looked at from a distance the damage wasn’t readily visible or of note, but since the medic was so close and hunting for details, he would see just how worn his digits were, and how blunted some edges had become. It told a tale of numerous years of labor and hard work, with little care to hide the damage well.

"Felt n-n-̴o̡t͜h̴-͡ot̕h-in̶g when they were on my hand, unless I mov̡-mov-̕kz̴zt̢t-e͡d it-"

A small pause formed then, Carbine seeming to furrow his brows while he thought.

"-They͝ ̢kiņdà'̢ ͘t̷hat like kz̶z͘t͢t feel sandpaper ͟grit ̨wh̷én washing?"

Was that a good way to explain it? Carbine sounded a bit confused while he said this, looking back down at his hand that he slowly flexed between Ratchet and him. Each finger splayed out and curled one after the other, the action borderline meticulous as if he were looking for any snags or tension issues in the joints, before he allowed it to form a full fist, peering back up at the other Cybertronian.

"....Like... sh-sh-z̴z̀z͡t̀kk̢arp ͜g͘raiǹy͜ an͏d̴ ͢t̛ḩ-em̷ sḩat͡ter like a-a-ą-kz͠z̀t̴t͝t̴-bitch! That’s ̴ac͞t́ual̶ly what hurt!"

He flared his hand out then, pointing vaguely with his other hand in the direction of where the incident occurred. It was apparent during all of this, that the mech was stressed, even if he didn't readily show it. His rotors were tucked close, and his voice was jittering. While the tone of voice was confident and secure, and he did not relay any fear, the choppy glitches betrayed.

"I tried ͠t͝o̶ ̴scr͝ap͠e th͘e̕ s̵la̸g off, and it broke glasss-kz̨z b̵ro̢k̸e like-broke-̶ZZ̀T̡G̡G̷ḰPO̴P."

Carbine had enough with being downed on the ground, not really enjoying Ratchet looming over him like he was. While there was no power-play attempt going on here, he just wanted to stand up and get off of the wet floor, hoping to use the time it took to stand to reset his voice a few times so he could speak. Because of this, he lightly pulled his arm free, placing his 'good' hand down on the ground, so that he could heft up into a stand. Whirling mechanics, a twang of a tensile cable going taunt, it took only a moment before he stood up, water dripping down from where it had pooled in his plating while he rested. It trailed down his shins, dappling to collect with the other water below.

"I got̸ ̢t́o ͠s̴ay, never saw anything like it whil̢e̕ ̷w͠or͟ki̷n̨g ͏th̸-the streets."

He liked to think he was smart with this sort of stuff... he has been called to all sorts of emergencies to witness injuries and illness alike, but this? It was something new. New could be fun! But not this type of new...

[Javelin]

Javelin looked back over her shoulder at the Prime’s words, inwardly flinching. Helping in the medibay?

Yeeahhhhhh….

A silent vent. If it’s where she was needed.

“Yes. Right. I’ll try to help Ratchet.”

She stepped back, looking the Prime over again, before turning, and starting to walk towards where she saw Ratchet. He was leaning over Carbine slightly, holding his servo, looking it over closely.

Javelin inwardly flinched when she realized Carbine might have been in the middle of the fight as well. She had only seen him sidle inside the medibay, looking as uneasy as she herself was. She hoped he wasn’t hurt, and found herself wondering why he had been showering in the medibay.

As she passed Sideswipe, the femme’s optics travelled over his body again, wincing.

Had Bumblebee really done all that? Turned on his own like that? Sick or not….the injuries left behind were brutal looking.

Avoiding the odd splotches of energon on the floor, eyeing the odd crystals that had formed out of it, Javelin continued walking forward.

She paused only a microsecond as she watched Carbine stand up, slowly pushing himself upwards to stand before Ratchet. Finally moving close enough to hear the conversation, she listened as the black and white mech spoke about not seeing anything like this when he was working on the street.

“I’ve never seen anything like it either,” she interjected as she came to stop alongside the two mechs, “Not on any of the mechanized or non-mechanized planets I’ve been to.”

Javelin peered up at Carbine, looking him over. He didn’t seem to be injured, or at least nothing like Bumblebee or Sideswipe. That at least settled her frayed field some.

“What is it, Ratchet? You must have seen something like this before, right?”

Javelin crossed her arms, settling her weight on one leg as she looked from mech to mech.

[Ratchet]

Ratchet scowled at Carbine’s hand when the mech spoke, as if the hand had somehow offended him.

“Gritty. Sandpaper? Well, that accounts for the crystals, but it doesn’t explain why they’re forming in the first place.”

The medic studied the hand again as Carbine moved it, flexing it. When the other mech pulled back, and moved to stand upright, Ratchet took a step back to give him room. He didn’t complain about Carbine withdrawing - he understood some people seemed to have a touch aversion….and the few interactions Ratchet had with Carbine seemed to show that the ex officer may be one of those. It wasn’t a big deal, not everyone enjoyed being studied.

He frowned again, as he digested what Carbine had said.

“It hurt when you washed it off?”

Ratchet started to raise a hand to his own face - his habit of tapping his chin or lipplates when thinking, but caught himself, and quickly lowered his hands.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Javelin approached and spoke. The medic turned and looked Javelin over quickly from ped to helm, now automatically checking everyone over for the odd crystals or energon spills, whether they were at the original fight or not. He looked past her to where Optimus was sitting, and spoke aloud to him, “I’ll be with you in a moment, Optimus, please stay there.”

Sighing, Ratchet looked at the two mecha before him, “Optimus is going to want an update, and I have little to tell him. In short, Javelin, no, I haven’t seen anything like this before. At least not what I’ve seen so far. It’s possible it’s a new form of an old sickness, but this particular pathology is new to me.”

He looked at the entrance to the Medibay, out to where the attack had taken place, and spoke again.

“I need the two of you to stay here for a few more minutes, please. Once I talk to Optimus and see what he wants us to do next, we’ll have a better understanding of what our next step will be. I obviously need to open Bumblebee up and see what’s going on inside him - those crystals may have formed inside him.”

The old medic nodded again, “Right. Just…stay here for a moment, please. I’ll be right with you.”

Turning, Ratchet made his way over to where the Prime was seated. He winced when he saw again the damage.

Walking up to stand before Optimus, Ratchet spoke, his voice a little lower than before, “Well. I never expected this when I got off my recharge slab today, that’s for certain.”

Optics moved over the Prime’s face, “Your eyes seem to have taken the worst of it, Optimus. How much pain are you feeling? I can give you something for it….but I’m going to assume you want to remain completely alert when I open up Bumblebee.”

Blunt and to the point, this was his way of letting Optimus know he was planning on operating, and that he assumed Optimus would want to be there.

“If you can’t see very well, I can at least describe what I’m seeing, and I’ll record it as well, of course, so you can look it over when I do repair your eyes.”

There was a pause.

“I think one of your eyes just needs a lens replaced….I could do that before starting on Bumblebee - it would only take a moment, and then you could at least see something of what I’m doing.”

Another pause. When Ratchet spoke again this time, his voice was very low, just loud enough for the other to hear. Not normal for Ratchet, his tone was softer, and apologetic.

“And…I’m sorry if I overstepped myself, Optimus. I was afraid you were about to go down, and I needed to try and get control of what was going on before that happened, leaving us with utter chaos. I hope you know I would never attempt to undermine your authority, old friend.”

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus expected that he would be left alone for a bit once Javelin departed. Too many others needed vital care, too much else going on... He did not MIND being alone at all, knowing that there were more important things that needed to be addressed. It would also give him some time to think to himself, to try to backtrack and piece together what was happening here and what may have lead up to it.

Since the chaos started, and honestly... even before that... the Prime had felt so overwhelmed by the pure variety of issues that were going on, and the lack of proper help to appropriately manage them. He longed for the days he had a full capable team to work with, when he could have specific individuals appointed to specific subsections of the base. Maybe he needed to simply blind promote a few to such roles, go out on a limb and try to trust those that he did not know too closely yet, in hopes that it could free his mind to tackle other problems that only he could contend with.

These thoughts drifted through his processor while he somewhat tried to eavesdrop in on the discussion going on between Ratchet, Javelin and Carbine. More clues, discussions regarding how it had been grainy and brittle, it painted a mental image for him and helped him visualize what he could not see. While it helped depict the image better, he still had very little idea on what could actually be causing it, and inner reflection wasn't offering too much.

As of these more subdued moments, the Matrix felt very quiet, the world and his processor too noisy to really hear its more subtle clues and quiet guidance. It could give them a direction he felt if he could connect with it, it had helped them before, assisted him in their most dire of situations, yet he could hear nothing.

Focus...

Tuning out some of the chatter...

Trying to sift through his hazy thoughts and spinning processor...

Before he could even try to dig deeper into it, Ratchet seemed to appear in front of him, the Prime's form pulling back somewhat as if surprised or mildly alarmed that the larger Cybertronian had materialized in such a way. There was no immediate reply to the medic because of this, his processor lagging behind a bit and trying to catch up, while more was being said.

Open up Bumblebee?

So much was said, so much was asked, that the Prime simply opted to ignore that which was irrelevant to continue and get the others the help they needed. He chose not to comment or reply on the offer for pain killers, nor on the comment that his eyes had taken the brunt of it. He didn't even respond to the quiet statement about Ratchet not expecting this today, though he could certainly relate to the sentiment.

"While I would like to see, I do not know what time constraints are in play."

Optimus would not put himself before the others. He couldn’t see, that was true, and he did ache and was uncomfortable, but he had gotten enough fuel to start to stabilize his swimming helm, and once it processed through his system a bit? He knew he would feel better. He didn’t NEED to see, while the others needed to get repaired. Then again, he has always been selfless like that. His entire leg could be snapped off at the knee, Energon flowing freely, and hydraulic fluid hemorrhaging out, and he would still put others before him if he felt he would be fine...

Focus shifting, Optimus' helm lowered ever so slightly along with Ratchet's voice, listening with care to the final words spoken. The apology was not needed, though it meant a lot. He knew that things were hectic and he was simply not taking things well at the moment.

"It is alright Ratchet, I too apologize. I do not know what came over me..."

Calmer words, trying to lower his tone of voice as well, though it was more difficult for him. The Prime's voice just seemed to... carry at times despite any lowered volumes, and could cut through silence with a boom if he were to permit it to do so.