The annual fire safety inspection was an occasion Siren had always looked forward to, now so more than ever. Not only was it the only time he could hope to be not on call, but it spanned multiple days, and, best of all, Nightbeat would be joining him this year.
Inferno had historically been the one in the main office while Siren went about his duties, but this year Inferno insisted that Hosehead be the one to do so—Siren just knew that daring to ask for a day off a few weeks ago would end like this. It wasn’t ideal, but with everyone on their best fire-related behavior, the stakes were low.
Siren had spent the past few days getting all his busywork out of the way, the very last thing he had done was finish his coworkers’ performance reviews. The final task was to check on Hosehead before his shift started to ensure he was fully prepared to babysit the office.
Siren knocked. There was no answer. “Hosehead? You home?”
Recognizing that it was Siren, Hosehead slid the door open a crack. “Yes. Go away.”
“‘Go away’ ?” Siren echoed with an offended undertone. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re all set! What’s wrong?”
“‘What’s wrong’?” Hosehead scoffed. “You should know!”
Siren looked lost. He certainly didn’t feel like had made any transgressions recently. He racked his mind for whatever it was. “This isn’t about your performance review, is it? I said you were improving!”
A small party passed behind Siren, prompting Hosehead to invite him in. He hadn’t gone and changed the familiar look of the habsuite—it was practically undecorated and uncluttered, save the large table that held the aquarium, its supplies, and the snacks left out, waiting to be toasted.
“Toaster’s out?” Siren observed, relieved by the ability to speak freely that the absence of a roommate afforded. All the small, colorful organic fish Hosehead cared for scurried for hiding places once Siren’s voice hit their enclosure.
“Yeah.” Hosehead crossed his arms. “You said I was finally showing improvement. Over how long? Centuries? I’ve been doing this longer than you have!”
“I meant it as a compliment! I think you just needed more practice, but no one would ever give enough cause you weren’t good enough…talk about a never-ending cycle. With Brainstorm blowing something up every other day, all of a sudden you’re making up for a lifetime of being forced to benchwarm!”
Hosehead frowned as sternly as he could manage—he was never able to seem too threatening.
“That’s my theory, at least. But I’m not the only one who thinks whatever’s going on is working for you! Brainstorm said we’re just as good as the team back on Kimia, and they were top of the line. And Magnus is about as pleased as he can get! It was rough when it was just me n’ Inferno, and you obviously felt overshadowed when Hotspot was here too, but third lineup’s the charm!”
Hosehead folded his arms even tighter. “And what about when Hotspot comes back?”
“We could explain that he’s kind of a detriment. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being transferred to some other department!”
“Oh, great. First, you take me under your less experienced wing, now you offer to protect me from those more competent…”
“…Well, yeah, of course I’d do all that! I kind of owe you for putting up with me. Besides, that was a progress report about your job that I had to write for Magnus as much as I did for you. He doesn’t wanna hear about how I love that you literally never give up or how impressive it is that you somehow figure out how to get along with pretty much everyone or that I know you’ve always got my back.”
“Okay, okay! I get it!” Hosehead smiled. Hosehead had always had a sweet, goofy smile, and it was a privilege to see it. “…Thanks.”
“Did I really upset you so bad that you were just gonna ignore me when you’ve got a big day ahead? You were really gonna try and handle it without all my sage advice?”
“No, it’s not just that.”
“Spit it out!” Siren lightly whacked him on the arm, making him unfold them.
“Jackpot?” Hosehead said like he was unsure. “He roped me into this bet…”
“Oh, come on! You should know better than to get involved with him.”
“I know, but you weren’t there! He has this way of—”
“Peer pressuring?” Siren shook his head. Poor Hosehead was so easily flustered that situations like this were far from a new development.
“Um, yeah. Point is, I’m kind of starting to freak out about that.”
“Eh, don’t worry. I’ll bail you out!”
“Well, I hope it doesn’t come to that, but thanks.”
Hosehead seemed unusually tense even after the things he had named that were bothering him were essentially resolved. Siren had been hoping whatever financial hole his friend had potentially dug himself into would be small, but now he wasn’t sure. “What are you still anxious for? It’s not that much, is it?”
“No, it’s not that! It’s…well, have you heard from Atomizer lately?”
Siren thought back to the most recent times he had seen him. Nothing seemed out of place then. “No. What did he say?”
“That everything is accounted for. That I should be on the lookout for an opportunity now.”
Getaway had told Siren the same a while ago. If they had finally gotten around to telling the likes of Hosehead, things must really be in motion. The order in which the mutiny organizers did things was mysterious, but that was the way it had to be done—making sure nearly 200 people were on the same page without cluing in the few who would get in the way was no easy task. “Why are you telling me? You think I’m gonna spot an opportunity when I’m sitting in one place all day?”
“It’s important!”
“Yeah, but this operation is supposed to be on the down-low, or did you forget? You don’t just go around asking about it!”
“I didn’t forget, I brought it up because—well, do you mean that? You haven’t asked anyone about it? Not even Nightbeat?”
“No way! I haven’t said anything to anyone! I haven’t even said anything to you, in case you didn’t notice!”
Hosehead was taken aback.
“What?”
“No, nothing, I’ve just never seen you think more than five minutes ahead before. I kinda like it.”
Siren snorted. “Well, it’s not really me thinking ahead, it’s Getaway. He hammered the whole secrecy thing into my head.”
“So you’re not worried about Nightbeat? Are you forgetting who he’s all buddy-buddy with?”
“No, I don’t think…” Siren paused, staring into space. “No. No, not really. He may be close with one of the captains, but he uses his head, and anyone who uses their head would arrive at the obvious answer! And that’s not just speculation. I’ve seen him tell Rodimus what he doesn’t want to hear!”
“Hmm.” Hosehead leaned in and squinted. “What are you gonna do if he is on the other side, though?”
“I don’t know! I’ll figure it out in the moment! There’s no point in dwelling on it. Besides, you’re going straight to the worst-case scenario, as usual. Getaway made it so clear that he would way rather get rid of Megs alone and not his entourage, too! Although—I hope he boots Rodimus, too…but that’s it!”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but this ship is prone to worst-case scenarios. And—both of them? Who would be captain then?”
“Thunderclash, obviously! Like anyone wouldn’t vote him in!”
“Yeah, but…That sounds too good to be true.”
“Primus, Hosehead!” Siren threw up his hands in defeat. “Is it so wrong to believe that something might go right for once?”
“I just wasn’t sure if you had considered where Nightbeat stands, and you really like him, so I was worried. It seems like the sort of thing that wouldn’t cross your mind, so I thought I’d ask.”
“Yeah, yeah…it’ll be fine. Thanks.” Siren exhaled. He may not have thought there was any reason to doubt his partner, but he trusted his best friend’s judgment, usually.
“…Weren’t you here to give me ‘sage advice’ or something?”
“Oh! Yes!” Siren snapped his fingers. “So, if you have an actual question, call me, okay? This is more…advice I shouldn’t give over comm, y’know? Like, it might seem like a good idea to stash stuff in the desk drawers, but Mags will make security do a sweep of the room right in front of you…”
Siren knocked on Nightbeat’s door for what felt like the tenth time. Since that wasn’t working, he took to the locks and let himself in. He was expecting Nightbeat to either not be there or not be conscious, but he was fully present, looking studious at his desk. He usually kept it tidy, but a mess had formed around him—he’d probably been at whatever he was doing for a while.
“Hey, Si. I thought it was you.”
“And you didn’t answer?”
“You know how to let yourself in. I’m too into this to let myself be interrupted.”
“So what are you doing that’s so consuming?” And, though Siren was starting to realize just how many exceptions Nightbeat made when it came to him, why was he exempt this time?
“Reading your incident reports. Took you long enough to give them to me.”
Siren smiled—at least the real him still took priority over an overtly professional impression of himself. “Oh, yeah, well, command said I couldn’t, so I had to figure out how to make copies without leaving a trace! You should thank Blaster, too, he showed me how!”
“I absolutely will. These were worth the wait. I didn’t know you had it in you to be so passive-aggressive or so subtle. The office politics oozing between the lines are fascinating, I’m honestly surprised you people haven’t killed each other yet.”
“Ha! Yeah, I made it a bit of a game for myself to see how much attitude I could get away with! And, yeah, let’s just be glad Megs’s decided to call himself a pacifist…”
“Have you read any of mine? I sent a pretty big batch a while ago.”
“Oh, uh, no…” Siren scratched his temple. “I mean, I got like halfway through one, but it made me kinda…sad.”
Nightbeat cocked his head. “Felt like you were missing out on things that already happened?”
“Yeah, exactly. I like it when you tell them right to me better!”
“Well, I don’t mind regaling you. Maybe today, we can…” Nightbeat trailed off, realizing that something was eluding him. “Why are you here?”
“What, is this not enough of a clue?” Siren turned to give Nightbeat a clear view of the ladder that was folded up and magnetically clinging to his back and held out the fire department’s datapad.
Nightbeat’s entire face lit up once he caught a glimpse of the items. He was quick to shut down his reading and leap over his desk. “It's that time already? I started digging into those reports cause I was getting sick of waiting. I figured they were the next best thing.”
Siren grinned now that Nightbeat was so suddenly in his personal space. “I wish they’d just let us do it earlier but there’s, you know, rules…”
“Ugh. Well, I’m ready if you’re ready. Show me how it’s done.”
“Okay! First we gotta do the common rooms, which’ll probably take all day. Are you hungry? I know I am, so we’ll start with the break room!”
Once they had arrived, Siren shooed everyone that had been loitering inside away—most of them were late for their duties, anyway, which he loudly reminded them of. Once it was cleared, Nightbeat made way for the refreshments, but Siren beat him to it.
“Hold on, hold on, I'll get it for you!”
“You don't know what I like.”
“Sure I do!” Siren said all too confidently. Earlier he had meant to make a mental note of what Nightbeat had gotten himself for their date, but ended up too engaged in conversation to remember. Instead, he later asked Swerve what he had gotten—an off-menu, sickeningly sweet drink with a clashing bitter aftertaste. It was only one example of his tastes, but it just might be enough. He presented the alertness-inducing concoction he had mixed for approval. Nightbeat took a cautious sip…and was pleasantly surprised. He flashed a thankful smile and took a seat at a table while Siren prepared his own serving of the unappetizing stimulant with none of the sweet-tasting fanfare.
“Does everyone usually loiter around like that?” Nightbeat asked.
“Oh yeah! ‘Specially security.”
Nightbeat pondered as he sipped. “The least responsible department, I’m learning. They must be mad that the war’s over, huh? Just looking for an excuse to keep shooting.”
“Well, they’re a mixed bag, but yeah, that’s the majority of ‘em…” Siren put his hand on his hip. “But it’s not just them! Even Inferno is a little late sometimes!”
Nightbeat had no further inquiries, so Siren downed his drink in one go and put the used cup away. He watched intently as Siren broke out the ladder to scale his way up to the ceiling’s sprinkler systems. Seeing how careful Siren was as he twisted and prodded them, sussing out any potential weaknesses, he wondered, “How finicky are those?”
“They’re really sturdy, actually!” Siren said as he wrote down his findings. “We’ve only had to replace ones that have been collateral when things get violent.”
“You say that like there hasn’t been a fair share of rampages.”
Siren walked backward down the ladder, folded it up, and made way to check that the room’s multiple energon-dispensing machines were up to code. “True, but the point is, they’ve all already been taken care of! What we’re doing is just a formality.”
After finishing with the break room they went on to clear the ship, deck by deck, common room by common room. Nightbeat seemed routinely entertained by and curious about the small talk and banter Siren would exchange with their shipmates as he temporarily evicted them. With Nightbeat tagging along, the list of infractions was longer than any previous year. Thankfully none of the things they had noticed were of much concern, but Ultra Magnus would have his hands full fussing over them for the foreseeable future.
It was late by the time they were nearly done—back in the office, Hosehead had already swapped shifts with Inferno. As anticipated, habsuite checks would have to wait until the next day. They should have been tired from working for so long, but Nightbeat thrived when being encouraged to look for things to complain about, and spending all day on an engaging task with good company to boot was doing wonders for Siren’s spirit.
“Well, this is the last area for now! First the maximum security brig, then the normal one!” Siren said, walking past the stoic security officers tasked with supervising the area.
“Saving the worst for last, I see,” Nightbeat said, looking around. The brig’s atmosphere was nothing short of oppressive.
“Let’s just check it out and be done!” Siren said, walking deeper in. Prisoners reached out for both of them, throwing out conversation starters with varying levels of desperation and malice.
“Ignore them.” One of the two security guards instructed the inspectors in response to the commotion.
For Siren, that was easier said than done. Whether Decepticon prisoner or disobedient Autobot in glorified time-out, when he heard someone pleading for help, he felt compelled to aid them. Every step towards the door to the maximum-security room at the end of the long, cell-lined hall felt heavier than usual as he forced himself forward. Nightbeat, however, seemed much less affected—but then, that was true of most situations.
Maximum security was much quieter once the door shut behind them. Only one of the two prisoners, Sunder, spoke up at their arrival. He was one of the very few people Siren felt little to no sympathy for. The way he violated others’ autonomy, destroying their minds and toying with their bodies, he deserved to have that Autobrad ripped right off of him. Everything he did went against everything they were supposed to stand for. Ignoring him was easy.
Nightbeat’s curiosity was piqued by the other occupied cell, given the lack of commotion. When he peeked past the window, he was met with a familiar face—or he would have been, had the face been intact.
Getaway’s eyes very slowly met his—had he moved them at a more natural speed, he would have triggered an alarm. Nightbeat had heard rumors that Getaway had been practically dismantled, but seeing it was another thing entirely. He wasn’t queasy, but it was a difficult sight to take in, even for him. So much work had gone into putting him in the state he was in: capping off his severed fuel lines so they didn’t bleed, hooking him up to a steady stream of energon so he didn't starve…it was no impulsive decision, at least not by the ones who had to actually carry it out.
“…Is he…he must be conscious, right?” Nightbeat asked, studying him to see if there was any way he wasn’t.
“Yeah, it’s…can we just do our job?” Siren asked as he set up the ladder. He had nearly forgotten that this had been done to Getaway. Given how many ludicrous rumors made the rounds, it could be difficult to remember which ones were true—he had certainly been sentenced to the brig, but few people had actually seen what had been done to him. What was reality had been dismissed by many as too gruesome to be true. The fact that this was viewed as some sort of progress by command was hard to wrap his head around. To Siren, this was nothing but an abject failure.
Whatever Nightbeat thought of it, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. His morbid curiosity always got the best of him. Siren couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He was observing him more like a museum display than a living person. He generally admired that detached attitude, but he was realizing that admiration was situational. “Nightbeat!”
“You’re upset,” Nightbeat stated the obvious, going by inflection alone, his eyes still boring into Getaway’s.
“I’m—of course I am! Look at him!”
Nightbeat eventually turned back to Siren. “You understand they did this to him for a reason. He’s an adept escape artist.”
“It’s already maximum security!”
“Outdated by a few million years…”
Siren crossed his arms. “Why not modify the cell instead?”
Nightbeat didn’t have an answer.
“I just don’t see why they can attach a whole basement for Overlord, but Getaway has to be altered to suit what’s already there? It’s just one cell! It’s not like the fire system! We have engineers! We have the materials! Why not use them?!”
Sunder slammed his palms against his window over and over, desperate to be a part of the conversation. They did their best to continue ignoring him.
“Those are good points.”
Siren had never looked so displeased with Nightbeat before. “Primus, Nightbeat! Your friend had someone dismembered alive and it’s like you don’t even care!”
“I do care.”
“Torture at the hands of your fellow Autobot? Do you think anyone deserves that?!”
“No, I don’t, but…”
“‘But’?! Are you serious?!”
“They have their reasons, and—“
“I don’t want to hear whatever backward reasoning they used to decide this was okay!” Siren was so distressed that he revved his engine in hopes of relief, despite being in the mode it was useless to do so. “Do you have any idea how this looks to people who don’t know Rodimus?”
Nightbeat bit his lip. He could be sure of at least one thing. “They did this to protect us.”
Siren sank to the floor. “Oh, yeah. Sure they did! No one knows better than command, after all. Thank goodness we have a genocidal maniac keeping us safe from our peers.” Siren scoffed. “Of course Megatron’s not protesting this at all. I bet it was his idea, even! This is probably the go-to solution for him! Getaway’s not dead, so it’s fine! God!” He buried his face in his hands. He had to take a step back and show some restraint—he'd subjected Nightbeat to enough of a tantrum.
He didn’t speak it, but he thought of how Getaway had warned him of this when he was screened for the mutiny: that the captains would anticipate the revolt and find a way to frame its leader in an attempt to nip it in the bud.
Maybe—no, almost certainly—that was what had happened here. Megatron had felt threatened, so he convinced poor, gullible Rodimus that he should feel threatened too, and thus Getaway was taken care of. Was Nightbeat thinking the same thing? Could he handle it if it turned out he wasn’t? He wished he could just ask, but he wasn’t going to compromise the entire movement just to satiate his own curiosity.
Whenever Hosehead speculated, so long as he had a clear frame of mind at the time, there was a good chance he would be right, even if he sometimes had to expel a pile of much more worrying predictions first. Siren usually felt reassured by that external source of foresight, but this time he desperately hoped it wouldn’t turn out how he had envisioned it. If he were right about Nightbeat’s supposed sympathies for Megatron, what else? Would it turn out that Nightbeat would be forcefully exiled for that opinion? Was the fear Siren was feeling at all an appropriate reaction to reality or was it all in his head? There was no way of knowing for sure, which only aggravated how upset he was. Every question he posed to himself required more speculation than he felt capable of. He felt so stupid. If the roles between them were reversed, Nightbeat would be able to determine exactly what was going on and be able to devise a plan to handle it.
Nightbeat put his hand on Siren’s shaking shoulder. Typically a touch like that was grounding and reassuring, but now, it didn’t help.
Finally, a statement fell from Siren’s lips, quiet by his standards. “This is what I always hate about working in space. You put all your trust and all your power in your leaders and they can get away with shit like this and you’re just trapped.”
“That’s exactly why I haven’t spacefared more.”
So, what? Was it that he trusted Rodimus and Megatron, or was he realizing that he had made a huge mistake? Siren at first looked away, then back at Nightbeat. He slid his hand over Nightbeat’s and pushed it off of himself.
Nightbeat let his hand tentatively hover but ultimately withdrew it. “Siren…”
“Just go.”
“Okay. Yes. Sure.” Nightbeat wrung his rejected hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow…?”
Siren wasn’t counting on his mood improving. He shook his head.
Nightbeat nodded and saw himself out.
Siren stared into space while Sunder taunted him. He tuned him out—the dissatisfaction within him was loud enough that it was easy to do so. Fire safety-wise, maximum security was in the clear and the medium-security brig checked out fine, too. He said nothing to Inferno as he dropped the equipment off at the office.
He had to think of something else to do that night. Not feeling particularly imaginative or adventurous, he opted for the excessively familiar Swerve’s and took a seat at the liveliest table. Hosehead was absent that night—he must have been understandably tired. Even though no incidents had occurred, the weight of the responsibility he’d been given was probably enough to wipe him out.
Siren tried not to seem too out of sorts, but he was barely participating in what was happening around him—not that anyone else minded being graced with his presence yet given a break from his usual boisterousness. No matter what the topic at hand shifted to, one thing was perpetually on his mind: He hadn’t fully realized how much Nightbeat meant to him until the possibility that the big picture would wedge itself between them felt real.
Siren stepped out of his room. An announcement pinged over the ship-wide intercom reminding everyone that fire safety inspections were still ongoing and to be prepared for potential living quarters interruptions. It hurt to hear, in a way, he didn’t want to be reminded that he existed or that he had a job to do. He was feeling marginally better than he had been the day before, but when he ran into Hosehead as they both made their way to the office, his friend could tell he was worse for wear.
“So how’d it go yesterday?” Siren asked, lacking his usual energy.
“It went fine! I didn’t realize it was so…quiet, though.”
“Yeah, it’s complete and total agony!” Siren dragged his fingers down his face in a fit of melodrama. Sure, it had only been a day, but Hosehead sounded ultimately unbothered. Why couldn’t he be as good at weathering boredom?
“…You should’ve said something. I would’ve dropped by a lot more if I knew.”
“Ugh, I know! It just didn’t seem fair to keep you from the rest of the ship just cause I’m bored!”
“It’s fine! Believe me, no one’s as fun as you, even if we’re just sitting around. Was yesterday fun, at least?”
“Um, yeah, sort of…”
“Well, you look like crap. Did something happen?”
“Yeah, we—look, I think you were right, okay? About the—” Siren paused, looked around, shielded the side of his face with his hand, and mouthed, “mutiny”.
“Siren, I wasn’t trying to be all, ‘I told you so’, or anything. I was just worried about…this.” He gestured to Siren’s disposition. They entered the office and, as Siren rounded up the equipment he needed, Hosehead got comfortable in the chair behind the desk. “So what did he say exactly?”
“Basically that—well, we saw Getaway in the brig, and…he, uh, he said…”
Hosehead noticed the amount of time it was taking Siren to get to the supposed point. “Did he actually say anything or did you just yell over him?”
Siren kept his head down. “Uh, the latter.”
“So you don’t even really know if I was right or not.”
Siren paused getting the ladder out to cross his arms. “I guess!”
“You always do this, Si…” Hosehead shook his head.
Siren exhaled deeply, finished his roundup, and set out to start inspecting. To think he had gotten so worked up over a mere possibility. But still, he couldn’t relax if he wanted to.
It would be better to try checking in with Nightbeat sooner rather than later, but organizing his thoughts and mustering the confidence to do so was starting to seem like it was going to take all day.
It was proving to be entertaining whenever someone was home, but he couldn’t help but wonder how each encounter would have gone had Nightbeat been with him. Ever since they had first really opened up, the floodgates had been officially opened. They spent hours peeling back each other’s layers, steadily stripping each other to their cores. They had grown so close in such a short amount of time. They were supposed to trust each other. He knew it had barely been any time at all, but he missed him so terribly. He was starting to convince himself that it might be worth it to flat-out ask about the mutiny, but that decision needed more thought.
Siren had gotten to Nightbeat’s room. Was he home or not? What would he assume if he was absent? He took to the locks and simply overrode them instead of entering the combination. Magnus had only not done something about those locks specifically because of that feature-it was in his notes for the inspection that they were already cleared. Nightbeat had been so sweet to grant him entry, he hadn’t had the spark to tell him he had always known how to get in—although, Nightbeat was no fool, he almost certainly knew that. Siren couldn’t imagine it was the only way Nightbeat could think to express the sentiment, either, he could just picture Nightbeat telling him exactly what he meant. It must have been the mnemonic device that he wanted to share.
The room was unoccupied. Siren decided to assume that Nightbeat was probably busy with some mystery like he usually was instead of actively avoiding him. The room checked out just fine. Siren lingered for a moment—it felt like he shouldn’t be there. He moved on to the next few rooms. Before he knew it, it was Nautica's habsuite that needed review. He was sure she kept interesting artifacts that would be as insightful to her as they were interesting on their own—too bad he was far from in the mood as to ask for a tour if she happened to be home. He knocked.
She answered. “Siren, hi!” She sounded uncomfortable, but Siren was starting to think she always was.
“I’m here for—”
“I know, I know, come in!” She moved aside, presenting her room with a sweeping gesture. “Um, Listen—Nightbeat told me about what happened.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry. I just felt like I should lay that out. And I’m sorry that I’m here—making things awkward… it’s just that the Rodpod is leaving soon so I was packing some things to bring.”
“That’s fine! Keep doing your thing!” Siren knew he should have tried to be in and out as swiftly as possible, but there was information just below the surface and he felt like probing—Nightbeat was ever the bad influence. “Is he…uh, mad at me?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t know. It didn’t seem that way, but I can’t be sure. He didn’t have much to say about it.”
Siren silently acknowledged the reply and went about his business, peering around Nautica’s things, scanning for hazards, of which there were none.
“Um, listen, Siren,” Nautica spoke up once she had finished getting her things in order. “I know you’re busy, but I’m sure Nightbeat wouldn’t mind if you came along on our excursion.”
Siren stood up straight and put a hand on his hip. If he had a definite time and place to try and make amends, maybe knowing when to expect it would help. “When are you leaving? Who’s all going? And…to do what?”
“We’re leaving as soon as everyone’s in the shuttle, we could try and stall for you. Let’s see… Nightbeat and I, obviously,” She began to count the names on her fingers. “Skids, Brainstorm, Velocity, Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Megatron, Chromedome, Rewind, Swerve, Cyclonus, and Tailgate. Oh, and Rung. We picked up a distress signal, so we’re going to investigate its unclear point of origin.”
The mission sounded interesting enough, but he wasn’t keen on holding them back out of his own self-interest if it was a distress signal they were after. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Well, if you change your mind…” Nautica shook the communicator she was about to put in her pocket. A message came through as she held it. “Oh, goodness, I really need to get going.”
Seeing as they both had nothing left to do there, they both left her room. Siren waved goodbye before moving on. After some time he was nearly done, there were just a few more rooms left. He paused to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, mentally retracing his many steps. It took a second for it to register that someone had been trying to get his attention. “Atomizer! What’s up?”
Atomizer put his hand on his hip, annoyed. “I said, follow me to the brig. We’re fresh out of medics, so you’ll have to do,”
Siren’s visor widened. His spark dampened. “It’s happening?”
Atomizer nodded.
“So…everyone who just left…?”
“The second and final batch of Megatron sympathizers. They won’t be bothering us anymore. This ship is ours. Come on.”
Siren froze. That put an end to his wondering, but he had thought he would be hearing it from Nightbeat himself. “W—But—They’re going to be okay, right?”
“We don’t have time for this, Siren. It’s Necroworld. Fully outfitted for Cybertronian life. They’ll be fine. Come on!”
“Did they leave yet? Did they leave the shuttle bay?”
“They’re long gone.”
Siren felt deeply guilty. Not just about betraying the trust Nightbeat had put in him. He couldn’t even begin processing that.
He was glad to be rid of Megatron. He had thought getting rid of Rodimus would feel good, too, but for some reason, it didn’t. Not to mention Rung, who had done so much for him, or Swerve. And Nautica, who hadn’t had the chance to get to know as much as he wanted to. What if, now, he never got the chance to? Most people didn’t take too well to being stranded in the desolation of outer space. He’d be surprised if any of them would ever so much as look at him, or any of the mutineers, again.
Something had to be done. What, exactly, he didn’t know. Maybe round up a crew of his own and commandeer a shuttle, to fully disclose what was going on, to explain themselves and hope for forgiveness, but stealing a spacecraft took time and planning—as Atomizer was well aware of.
Sick of waiting for him to sort his crisis out, Atomizer seized him by the wrist and dragged him along to the brig. ✧