[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]From the Wreckage [Closed]

[Sparkplug]

Taken by surprise by Knock Out's apology, as mild as it was, Sparkplug blinked. "The spread of an unknown nano-disease isn't your personal fault. I mean, sure, you're the CMO, but that doesn't mean you're meant to be omniscient. If I'm positive for traces, I could have picked it up from anywhere."

Glancing down at Flatline, she added to herself, And if all this is any mecha's fault, it's his. Not a happy thought, and not a particularly fair one, either. There probably wasn't any way he could have known he was a carrier, especially given the vast time delay between infection and manifesting symptoms. As for why the disease had triggered when it did... well, they were going to have to figure that out. Later.

In accordance with Sparkplug's fervent hopes, if not her sincere expectations, Soundwave moved silently aside and let her have full access to the terminal. Nodding her thanks, she stepped up and her fingers began to fly over the keys. Her diagnosis of how the plague was converting on-board nanotech once introduced to an individual, her proposed fix that allowed the cure to masquerade as more plague nanites even as it devoured them, the code that the cure was transmitting and retransmitting amongst its components to authenticate... even her speculations on the nature of the crystallisation process and a complete copy of the code she'd altered. All in all, enough that even if she wasn't around to contribute, it wouldn't be hard for the next researcher to pick up where she'd left off.

Lord Starscream had been a scientist before he was a general; he'd understand. Packaging the data up, she addressed it to his ident for transmission. "...no, it's never that easy," she murmured, as she tapped the send key.

A computerised chirrup broke her from her thoughts. She barely had time to look around and recognise the nature of the topographical equations scrolling down Soundwave's visor before a booming rush of teal and white invaded the room, swirling into a tunnel that led far, far away.

A tunnel with a solitary occupant.

"Reggie! You left HKJ down there?" she asked in mild surprise. Stepping closer, she added in a tone that was halfway between impressed and appalled, "You're a mess. We're going to have to get you flushed out with distilled water and buffed out once things get back to not-critical around here. Which - yeah, might be a while. But still, good job!"

Reaching out towards the fuel, she stopped herself at the last minute. "Right. Not sure if I'm contagious. Better check that first. With your permission, Commander - best that Reggie gets straight back out of here as quick as he arrived. This area isn't clean, and the less time anyone spends here that's not confirmed infected, the better."

She straightened, tapping a finger against her lips, then strode over to the analyser to check on the results. "We should get at least one of the smaller containers into contact with the provisional cure; we'll need more in a hurry if it's effective, but we don't want to dope the whole mess until we're sure. Knock Out, how's snaggletooth doing?"

[Knock Out]

“Not my personal fault, but I feel like I should take some of the blame for not noticing it in myself at the very least.” he frowned.

Of course if it later came down to some sort of horrible punishment for this mess, any and all blame would be promptly shoved onto Flatline - but in this moment of quiet when it was just the three of them (four, including Flatline, but he didn’t count) he was a bit more candid with his thoughts. How could he not blame himself? He had this virus too, and until today had no clue.

He kept his gaze on Flatline. The mech was basically in recharge, but he would watch for any signs of movement or subtle clues of reaction. Even small twitches could mean something, but he was rather… boringly inert. Probably a good thing, then again it’d only been a few minutes - if that - since the possible cure had been injected into his lines.

He was so focused on the black and red mech that he didn’t hear the smallest blip coming from Soundwave - and only when the familiar booming roar of a space bridge tearing open was heard did he spare a glance in the direction it came from.

Relief.

It was- what was that Vehicon’s designation again? R-something. It didn’t matter, point was he’d returned with the much-needed Energon. If this cure did, in fact, work on Flatline? This guy just saved a whole lot of lives in recovering the clean Energon needed to make bigger batches - and fast.

And he brought what looked to be some rations - clearly this Vehicon was one of the better ones.

Reggie, that’s it! He’d turned his attention to listen in on what was being said, just in case he was needed. He wasn’t the highest-ranking officer here, and so he’d look to Soundwave as the request was asked from the Vehicon if he could return to the deathtrap that was the Nemesis.

“Sparkplug has a point, given we aren’t sure how this is spread - she may be contagious. That, and… Well, medical supplies are needed, unfortunately.” it wasn’t like he needed to offer input, knowing full well Soundwave would allow the excursion back onto the ship, but ah, he figured he should say something.

Wait.

Slowly, as if realizing something, he’d slowly pan over to the other Vehicon in the room who was not infected at present.

Ah.

Fingers crossed Sparkplug wasn’t contagious. That any of the three who were in here weren’t. Then again he’d been fine so far, so that was good! And even if Sparkplug was infected and horribly contagious - how quickly could it spread, really?

Terrifying thoughts to dwell on later, his attention shifting back to Sparkplug as he heard his name.

“Snaggletooth? I like that.” he chuckled, glancing down to the patient in question “Still unmoving. No change. Which is probably a good thing - last thing we need is him waking up and thrashing out of the restraints somehow.” a nervous laugh followed. He was only joking, hoping he hadn’t somehow jinxed everything.

“Ah, but no - no changes yet. Vitals still normal. It’ll probably take time for the clean Energon and nanites to do their thing.”

[Soundwave]

The machine continued to churn and process the sample.

"HKJ-725 is on the other side awaiting my return."

Disappointment seeped through the professional veil, a sort of dread creeping up that Reggie was going to have to contend with the less than stellar individual. He did not say more beyond this, knowing that it was not truly noble or right to 'abandon' his unwanted partner behind, but he somewhat assumed, perhaps foolishly, that he would be sent back promptly. What he didn’t assume would be coming was the concern over his well being.

Slowly, the trooper looked down at his arm, confused, as if only then becoming aware of the salt creep that clutched and crusted over his plating. After this gradual evaluation, the red visor of his face rose back up to level with Sparkplug once more, not certain how to respond since relaxation was so very far away and out of his grasp.

"Understood."

A tad confused, before he heard the femme speak of possibly being contagious. Warily, Reggie took a single step back, more impulsive and concerned than conforming to protocol. At this new revelation he was perhaps re-evaluating how awful HKJ-725 was versus a disease, and at this point he would rather face the idiot. Turning to look at Knock Out, Reggie would nod, before then pivoting to seek directive from Soundwave.

The navy mech simply watched for a moment, considering, evaluating, not one to impulse make a choice or usher the mech aside... One could perhaps become impatient in the way he often delayed, but in the grand scheme of things the momentary pauses were not truly long, and he angled his helm and motioned faintly in the direction of the still open Space Bridge, ushering Reggie beyond the gate.

While it may have been beneficial to see if the soldier was infected, at this point they had to likely assume everyone was. Because of this, Soundwave simply observed as Reggie offered a salute, and returned through the vortex, to go back on his mission to find medical supplies. The moment he was gone, the Bridge sealed away, leaving a numbing quiet in its wake that was speared through by the subtle beeps of machinery.

An ease of the weight, a soft shift, Soundwave then would settle back down to watch, continuing to observe Flatline and Knock Out, and what may occur from the cure itself.

Snaggletooth meanwhile continued to sleep, though the quality of sleep was perhaps notably calmer. Strained injured systems easing back, latent processor functions no longer churning... While all of the medical readouts were of course Cybertronian in design, it was the equivalent of a human's heart rate steadying, and blood pressure stabilizing after the underlying issue was being addressed on some level. His features seemed more relaxed in a way, though eyes were still slightly ajar and dimmed in their offline state.

It appeared to be all good news, a hopeful first steps, but they were simply the first steps, and Soundwave was not going to label it a success at this early juncture.

He continued to record the events, not interjecting or offering his input.

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug grinned; she shouldn't have been surprised at the way Knock Out immediately took up the mildly insulting nickname for their prone patient. "At this point, a lack of a wildly negative responses is a pretty good start. Does look like he's settling a little. Yeah, I'd label that as at least mildly optimistic. We could have caught this a lot sooner if he'd given some kind of indication something was wrong; you'd think that he, more than any mech, would know that forewarned is four-armed."

With an impish smile for her terrible pun, she glanced over at the other vehicon, who'd sensibly stayed extremely quiet and out of the way when he wasn't directly called upon. Nodding at him, she added, "Separate a small container of energon from that lot, will you? I doubt I'd contaminate it just by being near it, but now's a good time to be cautious. ...speaking of which."

Somewhat reluctantly drawing her attention away from Knock Out's readouts on Flatline's progress, and not particularly wanting to know the answer, Sparkplug turned her attention back to the scanner. The moment of truth loomed: best case, she was uninfected. Worst case, the stuff was building up in her energon stream, and she - like every mecha in the room - was on a countdown to the point she went destructively crazy. She tapped a few keys, and scrolled rapidly through the results.

She blinked, with a snap-click of spiral shutters.

Mutely, she checked the sample, then checked the results were originating from the sample, then initiated a retest. Then she poked the little machine accusingly, before finally straightening up with a baffled expression.

"I, uh. Huh." She paused, then added, "So I'm definitely infected. Definitely before I entered this room, too. My energon flow is absolutely boiling with the nanite-constructed psychotics. Based on how things have gone, I shouldn't be far off - well, him." She gestured mutely at Flatline.

Her brow ridges drawing together, Sparkplug muttered mostly to herself, "I don't feel like violently assaulting every mecha in sight. Lemme see... grrr. Arrrgh. I'll laser off your face plates and feed them to the turbofoxes while you watch. Hm." Drumming her fingers on the analyser, she shook her helm. "Nope, I'm not feeling it. Not sure what the deal is, but this particular flavour of go-go crazy juice just isn't hitting my cranial architecture. I suppose that's something."

[Knock Out]

“Honestly I think at this point he doesn’t have the energy to lash out.” he mused, humming quietly in thought. Flatline had been through so much in the few short days it’d been since he’d first snapped, he was probably running on borderline fumes at this point. Which probably wasn’t good for the black and red mech, but once he was showing signs of being stable - or at least on the mend? Maybe they could think about giving him some sort of small ration to see if it started off another chain of events.

“As for signs something was wrong with him? Well - I wouldn’t want to be him when dealing with Starscream if he lives through this. Especially as I have reason to believe he knew something was off the entire time yet couldn’t brush aside his pettiness to come and see me about it until it was far too late.”

He frowned. Could he have even done anything about it? This was some new virus that he hadn’t encountered before, and even if he had managed to quarantine Flatline or restrain him back when he’d finally come to visit the Medical Bay? Soundwave was still infected. Numerous Vehicons probably were.

He was.

Even if they’d caught this in Flatline early, it wouldn’t have stopped the inevitable crashing of the Nemesis. Or maybe it would’ve. He would’ve known what to look for - Vehicons, Soundwave, he himself had had many medical checkups and scans since they’d presumably been infected and it simply hadn’t shown up. If Flatline had just said something earlier…

A slight shake of his helm, as if snapping himself from his thoughts.

“Then again, I am infected too and I don’t feel anything strange. No urges for senseless violence or murder. Well, aside from the slight itch to strangle Flatline, anyway. But that’s always there!”

He managed a chuckle, hoping Soundwave could tell he was (mostly) joking - quickly shifting his attention back to the small screen next to the restrained mech, continuing to monitor Flatline’s readouts in these crucial first moments while Sparkplug gave the other Vehicon a task to do.

Glancing to Flatline, then back to the monitor - he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a fast reaction should this all go horribly wrong. Would there be some sort of warning sign? Flatline seemed to be mellowing out at least - relaxing almost. Good signs, good signs indeed.

Until the first words spoken by Sparkplug after another moment of silence made him frown, looking over to her.

Ah.

“Well that’s concerning but unfortunately not surprising, I suppose.” he frowned, and could only tense his frame slightly as she continued, gesturing at Flatline. Honestly, it was one thing being in a room with the ticking time bomb that was Soundwave, but Sparkplug, too?

But- she didn’t feel any different. She should’ve felt some sort of symptoms if she was infected, and yet, just like him? She felt normal.

“I suppose given the circumstances, it’s good that you aren’t feeling like you’re going to suddenly snap and attack us, anyway! So that’s a silver lining! Mm. Do you feel odd in other ways? Before Flatline went ballistic, he mentioned his optics were itchy and something feeling off in his chassis. Then he spat Energon everywhere because he has no manners - so uh, don’t do that.

Of course, the off feeling was the strange growth-like thing I removed from his frame. Soundwave's too. I suppose eventually I’ll have to check both of us for something like that but… well, I know my frame inside and out and I don’t feel the slightest bit odd.”

His gaze went back to Flatline. Primus he hoped this fix worked, especially now that it was confirmed that it’d spread to more than just those he had frequent contact with.

Which meant- Breakdown was probably infected too. Ghn, in all of this chaos of being effectively kidnapped he hadn't even spared his partner a thought - and he suddenly found himself worrying. 

Please work, good nanites. Please. 

[Soundwave]

The Vehicon nodded and lifted his hand sharply in reply to Sparkplug's directive to offer a salute, before maneuvering away from his little non-diseased corner. He was mindful of his step, careful of what he touched; taking into account they don’t fully understand what was happening here yet. This caution didn’t get in the way of progress however, swiftly getting to the Energon delivery, before grasping hold of the handle and wheeling it off to the side where it wouldn’t be right in the center of the clearing.

Once neatly tucked aside, the trooper would start to do as instructed, cutting free the straps that helped lock things together, before peeling off some of the wrapping, retrieving what looked to be a sealed Energon Cube from a dining hall. It really seemed Reggie got fuel from everywhere he could.

"Do you require it put into a new vessel?"

A simple request, for the cube was already nicely sealed and ready to go, but could easily be transferred into a far more official and 'sciencey' vessel for experimentation. Should Sparkplug require it re-potted, he would do so before delivering, otherwise he would walk it over to offer as is.

Meanwhile, Soundwave watched.

What was found out was mildly irritating, though also intriguing.

Why would the same disease have such drastically different results with different individuals? Flatline had fallen victim to it, Soundwave had become momentarily lost to madness... and yet these two individuals were completely fine with no lingering animosity inches from being tipped over the edge? There was some unnatural irritation at this, annoyance that cultivated and amplified under the disease's hold to make it particularly bothersome. Soundwave knew it was because of the infection, he knew it was all sourced from things that were not of his design, but it didn’t change the fact it kindled anger, he was just mindful enough to try to keep it in line.

A flex of the fingers, a slow curl of slender digits into a loose fist... A tiny bead of blue on the bottom edge of his visor...

Was there a second catalyst? Or was it simply differences in frame design? Soundwave's visor had remained focused on Flatline and Knock Out, to record the results of the test, but now he was also looking to try to compare the four individuals in the room. Try to find something he shared in common with Flatline, but not with the other two.

At first, rather custom modifications was a fleeting thought. Flatline had his own unique quirks, and Soundwave was no different, but between them all Sparkplug was the walking billboard for 'if you don’t like it, make it better' with her multitude of tweaks and her unique aperture for a limb. On another view, Soundwave knew he had a unique way of cataloging his internal data and experiences, but he couldn't equate that with something Flatline did, no records of the mech tinkering with his processor, while in contrast Sparkplug...

Knock Out was rather standard. A good baseline with no overt upgrades or tweaks to design. Most of what he did was upon the surface, but comparing such a clean cut structure and type to the Femme to see why they'd both be immune... there wasn't much overlap there. If it was a physical difference, and not one brought on by an additional step in the diseases' evolution, then it was something about the particular component makeup that bridged back to their original creation back on Cybertron. Something unseen that could not be figured out by Soundwave's observational skills, as he was rather confident it had nothing to do with the fact they were both dark colors while the 'immune' two were painted flashier and bright.

Rolling his hands idly to try to bleed off the irritation, Soundwave kept recording.

Snaggletooth remained calm.

No quirks in his levels, no concerning processor activity... he seemed like he was simply asleep, blissfully unaware and perfectly content to remain in this dark limbo while recovering. No flicks of the secondary limbs, no shifts of the leg, he was almost deathly still, to a point that without the active readouts saying he was most definitely alive, there could be confusion on this fact. The only thing that was perhaps a bit unsettling was the fact his eyes were still slightly opened, though no illumination crept out, the inactivity brought on by recharge.

Unless prompted there was a good chance Snaggletooth would not awaken.

[Sparkplug]

The puzzle infuriating Soundwave dominated Sparkplug's processor too: the differential response between infected recipients. She absently drummed her fingers against the surface of the analyser, a staccato clatter, before she caught herself and desisted.

"A different vessel please," she responded to the uninfected vehicon, "something with a narrow neck. Sealable. No telling how many infected nanites have gotten into the air aboard energon droplets in here."

The answer could be 'none', but if it wasn't, and the contagion could spread through the air... non-zero chance. Especially with the thrashing and bleeding Flatline had been doing. Keeping her distance until the container was deposited on the bench, she took the vial containing the remaining reprogrammed nanites and unceremoniously poured it into the rigid armour-glass vessel containing the fresh energon.

"Okay. So the cure nanites will convert everything in there, plague or not, into more cure. Not sure how long that'll take. Exponential growth is fast, but you have to allow for movement of nanites through the medium... stirring will help."

Picking up the glowing blue flask, she began gently swirling it in circles, first clockwise, then in reverse. "As to your question - I don't feel any different. Which is frankly a bit frightening, having seem the concentration of novel psychotics in my energon flow. I don't know about you-" she nodded at Knock Out, "-but my chassis is heavily optimised, absolutely crammed with charge accumulators and condensers. Barely enough room in there to slip a scalpel in. If I'd begun developing anomalous structures, it would have become painfully, unpleasantly obvious very quickly."

She frowned. "Unless some of this chemical muck might be acting as a anaesthetic; a suppressant, rather than a psychotic, on my individual frame. The lack of consistency is maddening. If only we knew for sure whether vehicon systems are vulnerable to the virus-built stimulants; if one is, they probably all are, and visa versa, given their standardisation. That'd go a long way towards knowing how big of a mess we're in if we can't get a functioning cure out in time."

The thought was never far away that a failure to make a cure would also result in the immediate termination of her, Knock Out and Flatline at the hands of a rampaging ex-gladiator, but she kept that unvocalised. The crimson mech was thinking the same thing, she was sure.

Huffing a vented sigh, careful to keep one hand beneath the flask while she gently rocked it back and forth in the other, she turned back to Flatline and regarded him assessingly. Sympathy could - would have to - come later. Right now, he was simply a test bed for an unproven piece of nanite assembly code, and they had to have confidence in the results.

"It's been a while since the initial rampage," she said slowly. "I don't expect he's been able to rest or refuel since then, under the circumstances. He might be running pretty dry. If he runs out of active energon, he's going to show all the wrong symptoms, and that'll cloud the results."

Looking up at Knock Out, she met the genteel mech's ring-shaped optics. "I think we should dose him up with the stuff from the Nemesis. Maybe with some fresh energon in him, any starvation symptoms will fade out, and we'll get a clearer view. I can see there's a slight risk of Rampage Part Two, the Revenge of Snaggletooth, but he's pretty damaged, and I can cut his arms off if it comes down to it."

She very carefully did not look towards Soundwave, or hint at his involvement in any way. The last thing anyone in that room needed was for him to get involved in violence and get his energon pumping, no matter how justified. While she didn't know how well-armed Knock Out was, she was pretty sure her particle lance was more than a match for the mangled mess of a scientist on the slab.