Chapter Text
“You’ve got twenty minutes.”
“Understood.” Ultra Magnus nodded, optics flicking over to where Rodimus was pretending to be more recovered than he actually was.
“Look, everything is fine,” Rodimus said, and Ratchet poked him hard in the chest.
“Stay. There.” There was no doubt in Ultra Magnus’ mind that Ratchet would have tied Rodimus down if he’d thought it would do any good. “I won’t be held responsible if you break your internal mechanisms. Again.”
Rodimus shifted, the hollow scraping of his skin against the recharge berth betraying the level of damage he still sustained, and angled himself into an ostentatiously lazy position. “Who said I was going anywhere?”
Ratchet growled incoherently at him and stalked toward the door. “One more idiot and I’m putting the whole crew in stasis,” he said to Ultra Magnus on his way out. It sounded like hyperbole, but Ultra Magnus made a mental note to make sure Ratchet didn’t actually follow through.
“So,” Rodimus said brightly, not moving. “How are things?”
Ultra Magnus told him; while nearly every crew member had been exposed to the pathogen, the majority of them hadn’t even started showing symptoms before the hard vacuum treatment had cured the infection. The worst cases – which included Rodimus, a reminder that Ultra Magnus did not verbalize – were expected to return to full duty by the end of the week.
“Don’t have the parts,” Rodimus muttered. “Can’t repair anything without the parts.”
“The raw materials are in plentiful supply,” Ultra Magnus said repressively; self-repair systems were doing most of the work. His internal chronometer told him that twelve of Ratchet’s twenty minutes remained, and the most pressing issue had yet to be discussed. “Rodimus,” he began, and the door slid open.
“You can’t just leave it there,” Drift said, walking stiffly across the room and leaning over Rodimus. He ignored Ultra Magnus in favor of the conversation he’d clearly started earlier, but picking up on the subject matter wasn’t difficult.
“Are you suggesting we tow it home?” Rodimus said. “It’s too big to get off the surface of the moon.”
“It–” Drift started to say.
“It has to be destroyed,” Ultra Magnus interrupted, folding his arms and looming. Drift flinched; apparently he hadn’t been ignoring Ultra Magnus so much as managing to miss the fact that he was there entirely. He recovered quickly.
“That’s a living being down there,” he said hotly. “You can’t just terminate it.”
“The Metrotitan is already dying,” Ultra Magnus said.
“Dying isn’t dead,” Drift protested. “Rodimus, back me up here.”
There was a moment of silence as Rodimus looked searchingly at both of them. “Ultra Magnus is right,” he said finally. “We can’t leave it here, and we can’t take it with us.”
“We –“ Drift started again.
“We can’t wait for it to die naturally, either,” Rodimus said. “We don’t have time. Besides, that’s just creepy.”
“I’ve already made the arrangements,” Ultra Magnus said. “Everything is ready. It just needs your sign-off, Rodimus.”
“What arrangements?” Rodimus asked.
More detail than Rodimus probably wanted followed, passing the 18-minute mark. Ultra Magnus simply spoke over Drift’s continuing protests, citing wartime law and obscure regulations, until Drift fell silent and glared.
“Do it,” Rodimus said, when the explanation wound down.
“Rodimus!”
“Don’t, okay, Drift.” Rodimus passed a hand over his face. “Just don’t,” he said, voice muffled. “It has to be done.”
“I don’t have to like it,” Drift said, but he wasn’t protesting any further.
“I know,” Rodimus said, and somehow that was enough for Drift.
“Rodimus,” he said, and then anything else he would have said was forestalled by the door sliding open yet again.
“There you are,” Ratchet said, glaring. If he’d been able to cause damage with a look alone, Drift would have been disintegrated on the spot. “When I tell you to stay put, I expect you to not move.”
“There was a pressing issue,” Drift said.
“Which someone else can handle.” Ratchet pushed Drift out the door and down the hallway. “And you,” he added over his shoulder. “Twenty minutes.”
“It’s only been nineteen,” Ultra Magnus said. Ratchet narrowed his optics before resuming the maneuvering of Drift down the hallway. Ultra Magnus could hear the continued bickering even through the closing door.
“Are we doing the right thing?” Rodimus asked. Second-guessing wasn’t his normal pattern of behavior.
“With the Metrotitan?” Ultra Magnus hesitated. “With Brainstorm’s mass displacement gun, it could be reduced in size and taken with us.”
“No,” Rodimus said, voice regaining its confidence. “Put it out of its misery.” His voice dropped almost to an inaudible level. “It deserves peace just as much as any of us.”
Ultra Magnus nodded and left. As he watched, later, the Metrotitan quietly fell apart, the dust of its body and crew settling into the surface of the moon, and the faintest sound of whispering echoed through the bridge.
END