“Sir, are you sure?” Colonel McQueen asked.  The connection was poor, and the Terran Marine commander wanted to be positive of what he had heard.  It didn’t seem possible that he had really heard what had just been said.

     “Yes, Colonel.  I’m sorry to report that Rear Admiral Morrow was killed in an engagement with Decepticon forces.  As of 1530 hours, Cybertron local time, I have assumed control of the remaining forces.”  Commodore Ross responded.  Through the murky connection, McQueen could just make out his new commander.  A somewhat short, though well-built, African man, Ross wears his hair short, in the traditional military brushcut.  McQueen, on the other hand, was tall, though still in good shape.  His hair is graying slightly, but there’s no sign of him slowing down.  “Now, I want your men to dig in, Colonel.  You’re not moving out for a while, so get comfortable.  And don’t worry,” he says, a hint of a smile playing across his face, “we’re not going anywhere.”  The connection is shut off on the other end, and McQueen is left staring at the black screen.

     “Alright men, get your asses in gear.  I want us dug in in two hours.  Defensive positions every forty feet.  You know the drill!” he shouts, and his men spring into action.  Ducking back into his command tent, he settles into a chair, looking over what few scans he has made of the area.  The Terrans dropped to the west of Viridia, leaving them out in the countryside.  There are no structures within visual range, and the aerial scans made before touchdown showed nothing larger than a single-unit dwelling with a good 300 meter range.

     “Now, if command can get itself together,” McQueen mutters to himself, “maybe we can actually get a purpose down here.”

     “Grimlock, maybe you should go back.” Swoop says to the Dinobot leader.  Right now, the Dinobots are in a particularly seedy bar, knocking back energon like there was no tomorrow.  The Dinobot leader seems particularly anxious to drink himself into a stupor, and it is only with the support of the others that Swoop dares to speak up.

     “Grimlock say Optimus can handle it from here.” Grimlock responds.  Though slightly unsettled, his voice is steady, showing he hasn’t yet succeeded in his efforts to lose himself.  “Grimlock did nothing when Optimus was gone.  Maybe Grimlock better off here.”

     The Dinobots are worried.  Though Grimlock’s gotten loaded before, usually when he was really pissed off, he’s never this sombre.  Always before, he’s been a wild, rowdy fun-living guy, good for a brew and a brawl.  But now, he’s a depressing shadow of himself.  Since none are privy to what happens in the now closed-off Autobot Council chambers, none of them know for sure what is going on with their leader.  But they can hazard a guess.

     “Grimlock, you’re beating yourself up over nothing.” Snarl tells him, settling onto the seat next to him.  “You’re doing the best you can, boss.”  The other Dinobots signal their agreement, and emboldened, Snarl continues.  “So you aint perfect; big deal.  Nobody is.  But you’re getting better.”

     Grimlock gives no sign that he even hears Snarl.  He simply goes on drinking, one glass after another.  Giving up, Snarl returns to the others, who watch as their leader seems to self-destruct before their eyes.

     “This is bad.” Sludge mutters to the others.  The others can do nothing but nod in agreement.

     The steady hum of the life support machines sounds through the room.  In it, laid out neatly on their beds, lie two Autobots.  The one on the left is the more badly damaged, but the one on the right is whom the physicians are most concerned about.  He lost a lot of mech-fluid, and it’s a toss-up as to whether or not he will recover fully.  The one on the left, the blue and white one, is in there for regular battle damage, though it’s a little more severe than usual.

     At the window, First Aid looks in on the patients.  Though there has been no sign of a return to consciousness, the two are getting better.  At this rate, he figures that Mirage will be awake in a few days, with Dogfight up and about in a week.  Not bad, considering the lousy shape they were in when they got here.  Straightening up, First Aid walks around the window, coming to the door.  Pushing the entry key, he steps through as the door whooshes open before him.

     Standing just inside the door, First Aid takes a deep breath, marveling at the sterility of the room.  Since they got here yesterday, nobody has come to see them, and the only ones who have been in here since the rescue team left are the physicians.

     “I wonder,” First Aid mutters, “would the Terrans call us physicians… or mechanics?”  It’s a fine distinction on Cybertron, but it is usually described in this way: physicians work on sentient robots, while the mechanics work on the non-sentient.  Of course, some Terrans feel that all Transformers fall into this last category.  Of course, there are some Transformers who think the Terrans are little better than monkeys.

     “So, how are my patients doing today?” he asks, though he knows he will get no response.  Walking over towards Mirage’s bed first, he picks up the data pad that displays his current status.  The fluid-pump monitor holds steady, the neural net is in excellent shape, and the nanite reconstruction is continuing apace.  Excellent.  Placing the pad back in the holder, he moves over to Dogfight.

     This time, the news is not so good.  Fluid replacement has been completed, but his systems suffered some heavy wear and tear before he was rehydrated.  The nanites on his arm and chest are doing a good job, and are almost finished.  The neural net is where the most concern comes from, however.  A Transformers brain is a very complex and intricate piece of circuitry, and massive fluid loss is especially hard on it.  Circuits can burn out, connectors overheat and melt, and even small moving parts can grind together.  Dogfight’s neural graph is a little lower than would be expected, but at least it is steady.  Thank Primus for small favors, First Aid thinks to himself.  Though every patient lost is hard on a physician, these two could cause him a lot of grief from the higher-ups.  Optimus has been questioning him on the progress of the two since they got here.  Apparently, they were involved in something important, something Optimus needs to know about.

     Placing the pad back into the holder at the foot of the bed, First Aid walks over to the window.  Looking out on Cybertropolis, with the sun just beginning to dip behind the horizon, he is reminded of just how vibrant and alive this city is.  All too often, physicians can find themselves getting depressed by their work, thinking only the sickness and injuries that plague the populace.

     “You guys should really get up,” First Aid says, speaking for the benefit of those who cannot hear him.  “You’re missing a great sunset.”

     “Whoa!”  Swoop shouted, as he was tossed through the air.  He landed on a table, shattering the unaware piece of furniture beneath him.  He is followed, seconds later, on his airborne arc by Snarl, who lands on the aerial Dinobot with a crunch.

     “Get off me, Snarl.” Swoop shouted, his voice somewhat muffled.  He pushes on Snarls back, futilely trying to get the larger Dinobot off him.

     “Alright, alright, hang on.” Snarl replied.  Quickly, he rolls off Swoop and lands, on all fours, on the ground next to him.  “Cripes.” he mutters, rubbing his chest.  “Since when has the boss been able to hit so hard?”  Looking up, he spots Grimlock halfway across the bar.

     The Dinobot commander has finally succeeded in getting sloshed, but it’s only made him violent.  He’s rampaged around the bar, smashing furniture and patrons with equal abandon.  Fortunately, the other Dinobots are pretty much the only bots in the bar.

     “Grimlock smash!” he bellows, slipping back into his most primitive dialect.  Not for the first time, the Dinobots wonder why he never got around to getting that fixed.  But for now, they have bigger things on their minds.

     Moving faster than anyone would expect him to, Sludge manages to get behind Grimlock, grabbing him by the arms and pinning them to the side.  “Calm down, boss.” he says to Grimlock.  But Grimlock has no intention of calming down.  Lashing out with his left leg, he drives it into Sludge’s’ knee, causing the big Dinobot to cry out in pain.  His grip loosens, and Grimlock seizes the opportunity to pull his arms free.  Moving quickly, he swings around and grabs Sludge by the chest.  Grunting, he pivots, managing to toss him across the bar.  Looking around, Grimlock finds he’s running out of people to smack around.  The bartender’s hiding, being a bot of less than stellar courage, and he’s put his Dinobot’s down with surprising ease.

     “Grimlock want fight!” he roars, slamming his hands down on the nearest table.  It is then, out of the corner of his eye, that he spots a pair of bots walking down the street outside.  A male and a female, the male is large, and looks like he may just provide a good challenge.  Roaring wordlessly, he stomps outside and blocks the path of the pair.

     The male steps between the enraged, inebriated, Dinobot and his companion.  “Look,” he says, raising his fists, “we’re not looking for a fight.”  No further communication is allowed, however, as Grimlock lashes out, a right hook connecting with the bots head.  The male drops, grunting when he hits the ground.

     “Kobal!” the female cries out, watching as her friend drops.  Snorting, Grimlock advances on her now, his fists bigger than her head.  She backs away, for a moment, but doesn’t want to get too far from Kobal.  Dropping into low stance, she lashes out, her tiny fist connecting with Grimlocks face.  Surprisingly, he grunts and his head snaps around, a tribute to the strength she possesses.  She strikes again, this time bringing her left leg up and smashing it into his knee.  He staggers, but recovers quickly and swings.  His fist smashes into her head, sending her flying.  She lands against a wall, slumping down.  The force of the punch, combined with the impact from the wall, has knocked her out.

     But by now, Kobal’s up.  He sneaks up behind Grimlock, as the big Autobot stands over the girl.  “Get away from her!” he yells, catching Grimlock from behind.  He lashes out with his foot, driving Grimlock face first into the wall.  He grunts, but gets up after a few seconds, whirling around to face this new attacker.  He’s surprised to find it’s actually an old opponent, though one that shows refreshing tenacity.  If he’d had a mouth, he would have grinned.

     The two of them circled each other, wary, and Grimlock moved first.  There is no style here, no poise; he simply charges full tilt, slamming his shoulder into Kobal’s gut, and driving him across the street.  The force of the charge is so great that, when they hit the store across the street, they both slam through the window, ending up in the showroom of a furniture store.  They go at it again, both pounding relentlessly at each other, smashing big dents into each other’s armour.  At last, Kobal begins to slow, his left optic out and his right arm smashed at the elbow.  Grimlock moves in, anticipating the victory but sad that the fight is about to end.  Raising his arms above his head, it’s obvious what his next move is about to be.

     Kobal, however, moved faster.  With the last of his strength, he launched himself up, driving his elbow into Grimlocks gut.  There was a loud crack, and Grimlock groans, beginning to wilt.  But before he does, he gets in a last shot.  His hands smash down on Kobal’s head, knocking him out as well.

     The Dinobots look on through the window, waiting for the fight to end.  When it’s down, Sludge stomps in, grabbing Grimlock around the waist and hefting him up on his hip.

     “Think we should grab him too?” Swoop asks, pointing to Kobal’s unconscious form.  The others shrug, Sludge sighs, and leans down to heft him as well.  Once they get back outside, Snarl notices that the female is still out as well.  This time it’s he who sighs, as he walks over, picks her up, and slings her over his shoulder.  The three Dinobots, and their three unconscious passengers, set off down the street.  Their destination; the Cybertropolis Primary Care Facility.

     “He did what!?” Optimus shouts, slamming his hands down on the table.  On the screen in front of him, Prowl shrinks back a little, a foolish thing considering that there’s nothing Optimus can do to him over a video line.  Still, the Autobot leader is a very intimidating figure, and a very, very angry one right now.

     “Well, sir, according to Swoop, Snarl and Sludge, he got slightly over-intoxicated.  He then went on a bit of a rampage throughout the bar.  I believe the bill came to something like forty thousand credits.”  Hearing the tally, Optimus had to fight down the urge to pound the table again.  That foolish, foolish Dinobot.

     “I’m afraid that it gets worse, sir.”  Optimus’ head snapped up, staring at the screen.  How could it possibly get worse?  “After demolishing the establishment, he attacked a pair of Autobots walking by.”  Ah yes, Optimus thought, that would do quite nicely.  “In the ensuing melee, all three Autobots, Grimlock and the two pedestrians, were rendered unconscious.  The Dinobots brought them to the PCF, and First Aid is certain that they will all recover in due time.  Would you like a rundown of their injuries, sir?” Prowl asked.

     “No.” Optimus sighed.  “Just tell me who these pedestrians were.”  Why, oh why, couldn’t Grimlock have done something useful?  Like shooting himself in the foot, Optimus thought darkly.

     “The male was named Kobal.  An ex-military bot, now working for the Cybertropolis Peace Forces.  He was off duty last night, at least.  Good service record, fairly clean.  Reported to be a bit of a hothead in his early days, he has apparently calmed down a little.  The female, Kestral, is a weapons designer for the CPF.  No military service, but she has been known to take an interest in self-defence forms.” Prowl finished.

     Optimus could only shake his head in disbelief.  A Cybertropolis Peace Officer?  Of all the people in Cybertropolis that you could pick a fight with, Grimlock, you had to pick a Peace Officer?  Things were definitely about to get a lot more complicated.

     “Prowl, I’m coming down there.  Do not let any of the bots concerned here leave.  That’s an order.” he said.  Getting up out of his chair, he hurried over to the doors.  He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he did know that it would have to be done soon.  And this time, he was going to make sure that the Dinobot commander knew he had crossed the line.