Prisoner of her Spark

2. Twenty-six: Excitement

Arcee and taking Jack and I back to base. It's dusty, hot, bright, and flat. The only different between the immediate vicinity and the fifty miles radius, are the mountains at thirty five miles one way and the flat small town ten miles the other way. What a place to live.

It didn't take much for Arcee to give in. I don't exactly remember what she said, but it was a warning. I shouldn't take all of this lightly. Maybe it's her that doesn't understand, or take me lightly. They probably underestimate me because I'm small and Human, picked off from the middle of nowhere without warning. I don't mean anything to them. I'll show them.

"ARE YOU OK?!" Jack shouts at me from behind his helmet. I'm gripping too tight, I loosen a little and nod. He gave me one of his old helmets. It doesn't fit right, but it's fine. I won't have to wear it too often.

Another twenty minutes later and we find ourselves in front of a giant mesa, or what looks like it. And enormous hanger opens up and reveals the metal structure inside. I'm amazed again by how big it is, how few people could live in it and call it "cozy."

We take a curved turn to the right and it all comes back to me, the familiar space. I've been in this room three times now. Two other Autobots are here, I think I remember their names. It's Ratchet and . . . O-Oct— Octavious? Oooooptimum . . . Ominous— Arcee parks and Jack and I get off, letting her transform and walk up. I jog over to the ladder to climb on the balcony, Jack hurriedly runs after me. Maybe it's Osmosis, or—

"Optimus," Arcee answers my thoughts. Optimus, right, Optimus Prime. "How are you feeling?"

"I am well rested, Arcee, your concern is greatly appreciated, thank you." Optimus turns to face Arcee from the large monitors. However they were able to find screens so large is beyond me. Ratchet is tinkering to the left, on the other side of the balcony, at a medical station. There's all sorts of giant hospital equipment in that nook, and I can see a separate room door, maybe a closet, on the wall behind it. "Enola," Optimus calls me. I hear Ratchet pause and look up to watch me, I hate that. "How have you recovered these last three days?"

"I'm . . . I'm fine, there's not much to tell, it's been nice."

"That's good to hear. What you went through is a terrible experience not many can stand up to. It is a relief to see you well." I think that was supposed to be encouragement? It doesn't feel like it. I feel patronized, like he or everyone never expected me to be ok. I am ok, I'm fine.

"Yeah, sure, thanks." But I doubt he actually believes me. So I'll have to show them I'm fine. "I need to thank the other one," I know they said its name once, "the dragon, where are they?"

Silence. This feeling coming off of everyone is louder than every sound they make. Something sad sings out of them, and it's uncomfortable and awkward, but it's pretty in its determination. Ratchet speaks over its song.

"RedMoon is missing in the hands of the Decepticons." RedMoon is their name. The Decepticons are the bad people. Agent Fowler was able to give me somewhat of an understanding on the whole alien war thing. "We don't know where or how she is, and we don't know when we'll see her again, if we see her again."

"So she's gone?" Ratchet gets more uncomfortable, agitated. He shuffles in his seat and I see his face tense.

"We don't know—"

"So she's not gone?"

"We don't know that e—"

"And what are you doing about it?" Why am I getting so angry? My arms are about to start shaking and my breath is getting faster. I don't know what face I'm making, it doesn't feel like anything but I'm sure I look pissed off. No one's saying anything for a minute. I'm really ruining the vibe right now— but I'm not the one who lost a fucking dragon, so I can't really believe there would be a vibe to begin with! Optimus starts now.