"I could be wrong, I could be ready,
Oh, but if I take my heart's advice,
I should assume it's still unsteady,
I am in repair,
I am in repair,"

»«

"Feeling okay?" Dana asked Ratchet quietly, frowning when her guardian flinched as she began slowly burning through the links in the chain, making it shorter in order to lessen the agony when she pulled it out.

"I've been better." He grunted, the girl not minding as he leaned against the Apex Armor for some support, bracing against the pain as the minute movements of the chain produced little bouts of agony that was becoming increasingly annoying and intolerable.

His charge kept her gaze focused on the metal, holding the end so it wouldn't fall and create even more pain for her guardian. She had considered putting him in stasis to do this procedure, but she needed him upright and his experienced processor to guide her through it. Megatron might have been more qualified, being that he himself was a Cybertronian, but he had no medical expertise; thus Dana left him the task of refueling Chromia.

The decision was made to keep the Autobot femme under stasis until Ratchet was repaired enough to talk some sense into her before she killed Megatron. The warlord was adamant that her anger and fury were misplaced, but Dana wasn't so sure that he simply refused to see his actions through a different perspective. Chromia would have to tell her side of the story before the human woman chose to believe what the truth was.

Agent Fowler watched silently from the sidelines, the agent having been caught up in the emergency and was now watching to ensure he could create a record, should Ratchet - though he hated to think it - offline.

"Got it," she spoke again as the excess chain fell away, the part still attached to the hook inside him held in her hand. "Okay, next I have to gently pull it through. Want me to go fast or slow?"

"Slow," Ratchet replied, "I don't want you ripping anything extra out by accident."

"Once it's out you're going to start bleeding even more excessively than you are now." Dana noted. "Energon is on standby, but let me know if you need more or less."

Megatron watched the exchange, his optics flickering from one speaker to the next. The medic grit his denta as the human woman pulled out tell hook, taking a little bit of armor with it, the shortened chain soon following behind. A sizeable pool of energon began to form on the medic's lap, Dana quickly snatching a welder and beginning to work on the hole, first molding together the energon tubes and then beginning to patch up the hole itself. There most certainly would be a scar.

The Decepticon had to admit that he was impressed by her unflinching attitude toward the spilled energon; even Agent Fowler had to look away briefly. She didn't seem to mind as it coated the Apex Armor and dripped on the medical berth, nor did she care for the fact that she was peering into a gaping hole. Her green eyes were narrowed and focused, making sure everything was perfect.

Ratchet occasionally made pained sounds, or spoke softly of the things she needed to be doing, otherwise not moving from his position. He still used Dana as support, blunt digits curled around her shoulder plate.

"There; now we just need to replace your fluids." Dana carefully cleaned up around the surgical site, giving him an IV and beginning to pump synthetic energon into his systems. After a moment she looked at the mess, grabbing a towel of sorts and offering it to him. "Here."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "I can barely move."

His human rolled her eyes, folding the towel and sticking it on his lap. "Give it time to soak up what it can, then wipe the excess. Unless you'd rather I got all the energon out of the kinks between your legs."

Megatron banished the visual before it could fully form in his processor, instead returning his attention to Chromia and fighting the snicker that was spreading across his faceplate while Ratchet stuttered in the background.

"I don't - I wasn't - Dana!"

"Hey, I'm telling you like it is." Dana shrugged, cleaning her hands and squatting to clean some drops from the floor. "Now calm down; the higher your blood pressure the worse things will get."

Ratchet scoffed. "Cybertronians don't have 'blood pressure.' Perhaps something akin to it, but it's not nearly as important as it is to humans."

"Regardless, you should calm down." She smiled in amusement, eyes glittering softly. She had fully intended that joke as the innuendo that it was, and took delight in watching him squirm because of it. Agent Fowler wasn't sure if he should reprimand her or laugh at the joke. But then his thoughts wandered to something more pressing.

"Who was the 'bot that almost took out Ratchet?" Agent Fowler asked, his accusing gaze landing on Megatron. "Friend of yours?"

"Lockdown," Ratchet growled a little, glaring at Megatron, "he came here for one thing, and one thing only; Megatron is no friend to him now."

"I know, you told us the moment you came through the bridge." Megatron rumbled, his optic ridges furrowed in a troubled look. "And I would not be surprised if more soon followed. Hunters have a knack for finding one another and creating competition amongst themselves."

"That doesn't matter; Lockdown is our main issue." Ratchet tried to stand, but Dana wordlessly shoved him back down with a glare. The medic grunted in protest, giving her an unhappy look in return before he continued. "He will stop at nothing to trap, or kill, his quarry. And we have just witnessed the lengths he will go to get to you. This was just our first encounter, and it most certainly will not be the last."

"He used the Autobot pod as a trap," Megatron gestured to Chromia, "he knew we were capable of locating beacons, which would also account for why his ship is cloaked. He might also have the ability to read Cybertronian life signals, something we should account for."

"So you guys can't leave the base now," Dana bit her lip. "Because he could find you."

"Indeed," Ratchet grumbled, "but with more relics most likely still at large, we must get to them before Lockdown learns of their existence. If he manages to get a hold of them . . ."

"Great," Agent Fowler groaned, "now not only do we have to worry about more weapons of mass destruction, but a bounty hunter that could trade them off to other baddies!"

"He will use them before selling them to the highest bidder," Megatron explained, "considering most, if not all of the relics, will be to his advantage."

"So, what can we do?" Dana questioned. "None of us can go out onto the field without him picking up a life signature."

"Not all of us," Megatron looked at her.

"No.  Dana will not be going out into the field with a Decepticon bounty-hunter on the loose!" Ratchet snapped. "Even with the Apex Armor, she is vulnerable to capture, even interrogation if he manages to take it off. I am not risking her well-being for your life!"

Megatron bared his teeth. "She is a human. How could he possibly find her without running into her through an astounding coincidence? Besides, just as you said, the relics are not discoverable by outside forces until they are excavated and brought to the surface. By the time Lockdown would manage to find the location of the signal, she would be long gone."

"Knowing her, he will be just around the corner when she decides to go out on her own," Ratchet clutched his shoulder painfully as he straightened, determined to shove his authority onto the Decepticon. "Dana is not going anywhere, and that is that."

"Why don't you ask Dana?" The human in question grumbled, crossing her arms.

"I agree with Ratchet on this one," Fowler spoke to her gently, "it's just too risky. He didn't hesitate to blow a hole in the doc's hull; who knows what he could do to you?"

Megatron tilted his helm. "I could teach her more forms of combat." He suggested.

Ratchet snorted. "You teaching her how to fight like a bloodthirsty gladiator? Over my cold husk!"

"Why not?" Dana seemed to really like that idea. "You've been teaching me what you can, Ratchet, but you're not . . . Well, a fighter. You fix people, not break them."

Megatron raised an optic ridge, but decided she did not mean offense.

"Exactly," Ratchet accused, "I don't want you to accidentally get hurt. He has no idea how to be gentle! If your back strut suffers any damage - "

"Then it can be a learning process for both of us," Dana gently touched Ratchet's arm. "I'll make sure we don't go too far and I end up injured, okay? It'll build rapport, and make me ready to go out in the field." She cut off the medic before he could protest again. "Earth is my planet too, Ratchet, and I will protect it in any way I can, even if that does mean risking my life. I know what I signed up for, and I will not back down because some stupid bounty hunter thinks he can get away with hurting my friends."

Ratchet listened, bright turquoise optics gazing at her for a long time before they slid shut. "I don't like it."

"I know you don't," she replied, "but I'm going to do it anyway."

Megatron watched the exchange, red optics narrowing slightly as an emotion flickered across Ratchet's faceplates. To the untrained optic, it was hardly noticeable, and Dana didn't seem to see it, Agent Fowler for sure ignorant of its passing. At first, he couldn't put a word to the expression, but it came to him the moment the medic re-opened his optics and looked at her.

Love.

He loves her? Preposterous. Humans are hardly compatible.

Tilting his helm, the warlord tried to get a better look, but Agent Fowler broke his concentration and the expression disappeared from Ratchet's face.

"Shouldn't a more qualified Agent with more field experience and expertise be the one to go out onto the field?" He asked, just as happy with Dana's determination as the medic.

"Perhaps. But Dana has more experience with the Apex Armor, as well as Cybertronian combat," Ratchet could hardly believe he was defending her decision, but it was the truth. "Therefore she is more qualified for the task."

Agent Fowler looked perturbed, however he could see that Ratchet was right. "I just need practice is all. Can I train too?"

Megatron did not seem to thrilled with the idea, but, "It is Ratchet's decision to make."

"Couldn't hurt," Dana noted, "that way if one of us goes down, the other can fill in."

Ratchet nodded. "I will allow it. Megatron, you will be tasked with giving them both adequate training in hand-to-hand combat. Do not use this as an excuse to rough them up, especially Dana. If you break her, I will personally give your helm to Lockdown."

"Understood." Megatron rumbled, not enjoying the scrutiny.

Agent Fowler sighed. "So, what are we going to do about her?" He gestured to Chromia.

"We will wake her up soon enough," Ratchet assured. "Once she is caught up . . ."

"Soundwave will be freed from the Shadow Zone." Dana finished, smiling brightly. "And then we'll have a team of four, plus Agent Fowler and myself. With three fighters and a medic, we will make an awesome team!"

Ratchet looked about as hyped as the sleeping femme on the medical berth. "Yes, that we will. Should Soundwave still be loyal to Megatron." His words were sharp, a warning to the Decepticon.

"Soundwave's loyalty should never be brought into question," Megatron snapped, almost to the end of his rope, "he is reliable and an immensely resourceful mech. You would be wise to put some faith in him."

"Once we get settled in, I'll see about that," the medic frowned, his gaze lowering from Megatron to Chromia. "Alright; Dana, if you could please suspend stasis."

"On it." She pressed a button, a hiss escaping the machine as it no longer kept the femme under, beginning to wear off with every second.

"Megatron, it would be wise if you stood back." Ratchet instructed, pointing to one of the far corners. "Chromia may be confused when she wakes up, and seeing you won't help things. The distance may also provide some protection in case she decides to kill you."

"Noted." Megatron stalked to the corner, feeling like a child that was sent to time-out. His mood was getting worse every hour Ratchet kept him cooped-up, but he could look forward to sparring with the humans. That would release some pent up energy.

Now Lockdown has made things complicated. He cursed the hunter.

"Stasis is wearing off." Dana reported.

"Easy now," Ratchet gently placed a servo on the femme as she started to stir, putting a light to her optics to make sure they were dilating correctly, "you're safe, Chromia. Just follow the light . . ."

»«

Lockdown was far from pleased.

His element of surprise, wasted, because he had been foolish. If he had not attacked, but instead stayed still, he could have possibly mimicked another beacon and drawn out his prey.

But he had been arrogant, his taste for blood overpowering his sense of logic. Attacking the medic to obtain information had a high chance of results, but there was always the chance of failure. And he had failed.

All because of some . . . Strange native lifeform.

His computers indicated that the most abundant lifeforms on this planet were insects, billions upon trillions of them, but that was no insect. Judging by its capability of speech and conscious thought, he had to guess that it was the human species, the dominant and most advanced animal on this organic planet. Earth.

But, it had Cybertronian technology for an outer shell, something completely unheard of in the human society. From what he could assume, it was either techno-organic or simply "wearing" the technology as protection. He was going to go with the latter, as the former was nothing but myth. And, quite frankly, he did not believe in myths.

His hounds were currently licking their wounds, whining, upset and angry about the lack of energon-tasting. Perhaps the most unforgivable part of the disgusting meld of organic material and Cybertronian technology was the fact that it enabled it to break his hounds. Lockdown was not completely attached to them, but they were fine hunting companions. To lose one would be a tragedy.

His flew his ship above the accumulated water droplets, running a diagnostic on his ship. One of Fracture's "bugs" had been tripped after he deployed his grappling hook, making the second one useless. He didn't find any other problems with them, and had supposedly fixed the problem, but with that scrapheap he could only guess.

He angrily sped his ship up as darkness began to consume that side of the planet, not wanting to trip any more possible traps by activating his lights, or be seen by any humans. He had to keep moving, or settle somewhere he wouldn't be disturbed; but he had yet to find such a place.

After some time, he began to calm down. His failure only made the stakes higher for himself, and Megatron. Soon enough the Decepticon would be smoked out of his hiding spot, and Lockdown would make sure there were no more mistakes.

Part of the game was patience; and oh, could Lockdown be patient.