CHAPTER THREE
--The Vis Vitalis--
"He's dead."
"Velocity, I don't want you to take this the wrong way," Firestar said as she stood over the offline body of Peritus Maximus. "But I'm pretty sure anyone with a working set of optics would have gathered as much. What I want to know is how he died."
"That's the problem," Velocity replied. "There aren't any signs of damage at all: no open wounds, no blast marks. It's the same as with Rocket and Photon; it's like their spark just gave up."
"And is that a regular occurrence?"
"It's rare but not unheard of. Spontaneous spark failure usually come about if one's contracted a number of diseases or is very long-lived. Peritus was old, but not ancient like Kup -- and Rocket and Photon were only forged recently."
Firestar pinched the edge of her helmet crest, closing her eyes as she let out an exasperated noise. "Great. This is just great. We've got some sort of... lethal force on board and we don't what it is or why it's only targeting certain bots. Sooner or later, this ship is going to become a flying plague ship."
"Have the security cameras shown anything?"
"I had Skimmer review the footage, but it always seems to cut out right before the death occurs."
Velocity frowned at this. "Sound to me this is more than just a plague going around."
"I agree," Firestar murmured, turning to leave the medibay. "I'll have Roadmaster and Javelin put Peritus into cold storage. In the meantime, I want you to give Thunderclash another checkup, make sure he's okay."
"Given his current condition, I'm not sure how 'okay' he's going to be for much longer."
"Have some faith, Velocity. After all, he is the one and only Thunderclash."
--Garrus-16--
"I must give credit where credit's due: you have quite the bearings to show your face here again."
Viral said nothing as he followed the massive Decepticon in front of him, keeping his gaze to the floor.
"I mean, after faking your death to get off-planet... surely you realized that to return would have been suicide."
"Of course I realized that," Viral retorted. "It was never my intention to return here. The Autobots--"
"Don't tell me: the Autobots forced you to lead them here? Hilarious. Surely imprisonment would have been a better fate."
If Viral had visible optics, he would have glared with them. "There's no point in obfuscating stupidity, Overlord. I know it was that drone you had installed into me that influenced my choices. That's why I tried to stay locked up in that blasted coffin; I knew it would lead me back here one way or another."
Overlord looked down at Viral and gave him a grin that the smaller Decepticon found very unsettling. "My, no wonder Gigatron kept you around for your intellect. It's a good thing, then, that he still has use for you."
Viral looked up at Overlord, surprised. "He does? For what?"
"During your absence, we were finally able to break our special guest. All we need now are your skills to extract the codes from his brain module."
"The codes to what?"
"Aequitas, of course," Overlord said matter-of-factly. "The Autobots' judgment machine. Their greatest shame."
"And what possible use would you or Gigatron have for it?"
The Warrior Elite chuckled darkly as he and Viral came to a stop before a steel door. "For Aequitas itself? None at all. It's what's underneath Aequitas -- what it was built to hide -- that is of greater interest."
Overlord then pulled the door open, which made a grinding creak as it revealed the mutilated mech which it held. Viral had never been much fond of Autobots, but even he would not wish his greatest enemy the condition Fortress Maximus was presently in.
"Just think," Overlord said as he gingerly pushed Viral towards the comatose warden. "Do this and all charges will be dropped. You will be welcomed back into the fold."
"What makes you think I want that?" Viral asked.
Overlord flashed him another grin. "I think you and I both know that the alternative would be much, much worse."
* * *
The first thing Skids knew was that he was awake; whether that was a good thing or not, he was not sure of yet.
The second thing he knew was that he was trapped in some kind of cocoon. That, he could tell, was definitely not a good thing. Looking around the dark chamber, he saw that he wasn't the only one; nearby in similar predicaments were Rodimus, Nautica, Whirl, Getaway, and Windblade, all five of them unconscious. Brainstorm and Ratchet were nowhere to be seen, which made him even more uneasy. After what he had seen earlier in Garrus-16's rooms, he didn't dare imagine what fates had befallen them.
Finally, there was the third thing to attract his notice: the sound of music. Right away, he knew it was the tune of the Empyrean Suite. The same tune those mutilated Autobots had been forced to sing to. The same tune that was in his head....
Hearing voices coming from nearby, Skids thought fast and feigned unconsciousness, dimming his optics enough so that he could still see who was entering the room.
"--is the most vulnerable of the six," a winged, bat-like mech was saying as he followed a monstrous one into the room. "Her introverted and self-depreciate nature makes her ripe for psychological torture."
"Nightstrike, I could not care less about your own personal experiments," the other Decepticon growled. "You can play as many 'games' with these Autobots as you want, so long as they're dealt with."
"Ah, I understand that, Lord Gigatron. However...." Nightstrike's blue optics briefly darted to Skids and the theoretician felt himself tense. "One of the Autobots has proven to be an... interesting case subject."
"Explain," Gigatron demanded.
"The fear center of his processor is not projecting any stasis visions of his greatest fears -- or any visions at all. He's not dreaming, so to speak."
"And why do you think that is?"
"Well, I'm no mnemosurgeon, but from my readings of his brain wave patterns, there appears to be gaps in his memory. It is a possibility that his greatest fear is what's missing--"
"Do you intend on going somewhere with this, Nightstrike? Otherwise, you have succeeded only in wasting my time."
"Please, my lord, let me finish," Nightstrike pleaded. "While his processor didn't project any dreams, they did produce a sound -- or a song, I should say."
"And what song was that?"
"The Empyrean Suite."
A cold silence fell upon the room, one which Skids did not dare break. Gigatron said nothing for what seemed like forever before slowly turning to Nightstrike.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. I would recognize it anywhere."
Gigatron fell silent again as he appeared to mull over this revelation. Finally, he looked towards Skids, his face devoid of emotion but his eyes full of held back rage.
"Execute him. Immediately."
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