Nathan understood the mechanics of the Space Bridge. It was an advanced spatial-conduit technology, a rapid deployment system that transcended the standard laws of distance and time. Based on one of the three Primary Paradox-Technologies—Cybertronian Space-Folding—the bridge allowed for instantaneous transit between star systems, provided one had the energy reserves and the precise target coordinates.
In contrast, the Ground Bridge was a short-range tactical equivalent, limited to planetary or intra-system transit. While a Ground Bridge was simpler to activate—often requiring only a singular operator and a set of localized energy pillars—the Space Bridge was a strategic endeavor, requiring immense calibration and a high-bandwidth link to ensure the traveler didn't end up scattered across a dimensional void.
So Scalpel has been Soundwave's asset from the start, Nathan calculated.
The pieces finally clicked into place. Scalpel hadn't just been monitoring Starscream's eccentricities for fun; he was a deep-cover mole for the Spymaster. His presence on Earth was a pre-meditated tactical insertion. Now that Starscream had moved to isolate the medic within the lab, Scalpel was forced to burn a secondary asset: Nathan.
Despite his innate caution, Nathan didn't immediately confirm the mission. He moved through the base's primary arteries toward the medical sector, keeping his sensors tuned to the local guard rotations.
He's not alone, Nathan noted, rounding the final corridor leading to the lab.
Standing guard at the entrance was a Decepticon Nathan didn't recognize—a Mid-tier warrior with a fresh, unscarred chassis.
"Designation: T-26," the guard stated, his voice a flat, synthesized mono-tone. "I am assigned to the medical sector under the direct authority of Lord Starscream. State your directive, Seeker."
"Squadron Seven Commander, returning for technical recalibration," Nathan replied, his vocalizer projecting a tone of bored military professionalism.
The guard scanned Nathan's ID-signature and stepped aside. Nathan didn't enter the lab. Instead, he maintained a brief, professional exchange before continuing down the hallway. He realized T-26 was likely a product of the "sabotaged" logic chip and the recycled energy core from T-18. Starscream was fast-tracking his own security detail to counter Scalpel's influence.
[ SECURE CHANNEL: SCALPEL ]
Inside the lab, Scalpel was pacing his limited floor space, his many limbs clicking frantically against the alloy. He was unaware that Nathan was already within the base's internal grid.
[ T-22. WHY HAVE YOU NOT RESPONDED? ARE YOU NEGOTIATING FOR MORE ALLOCATION? ]
Nathan, standing in the shadows of a refining sector, sent back a smooth, calculated pulse. [ DOCTOR. I AM CURRENTLY EVALUATING THE RISK-REWARD RATIO OF BREACHING THE COMMANDER'S ISOLATION PROTOCOLS. ]
[ CURSE YOUR AMBITION! ] Scalpel projected. [ FINE. IF YOU ESTABLISH THE ANCHOR, I WILL USE MY LEVERAGE WITH SOUNDWAVE TO ENSURE YOUR CHASSIS IS REFORMATTED INTO A HIGH-TIER VETERAN CLASS. ]
Nathan's optics flared. [ REFORMATTING CONFIRMED. STATE THE DEPLOYMENT COORDINATES. ]
The data-packet hit Nathan's bus: N33.5°... A specific, high-altitude peak in the Appalachian range.
[ TWENTY MINUTES. ENERGON STORAGE VAULT 4. THE ASSISTANT WILL MEET YOU. ]
Forty minutes later, Nathan stepped out into the scorching air of the Kernas Great Canyon.
In his hand, he held a small, metallic sphere—the Space Bridge Anchor. It looked remarkably simple for a device capable of tearing a hole in the universe. According to the data-dump from the Tentacle-Bot, he simply needed to transport the anchor to the coordinates and initiate a localized energy-pulse. Soundwave would handle the heavy lifting from the orbital side.
Too simple, Nathan thought, opening a small panel in his chest. He deposited the sphere into his Sub-Space Storage Chamber, an independent dimension-fold within his frame that compressed stored items to a fraction of their mass.
"First, I scan a new flight-alt," Nathan rumbled to himself. "Then, I deal with the intruders in Miami."
He was aware of the situation at Aethelgard Industrial. E-15 had reported the detention of six human adolescents who had stumbled into the hangar looking for "ghosts." Nathan had no intention of letting them go—not because he wanted to harm them, but because he couldn't afford a security leak.
He reached the edge of a cliff, his hydraulics hissing. Since his current alt-mode was a ground-vehicle, he had to resort to a primitive ascent. He ignited his palm-thrusters, the high-pressure blue flame lifting his massive frame slowly into the sky. It was a fuel-inefficient way to climb a canyon, but it beat climbing the rock face.
As he crested the ridge and transformed back into the black muscle car, he streaked toward the Florida border.
He didn't notice the sleek, unbranded Cybertronian interceptor that banked out of the fortress hangar minutes later, its optics locked onto his thermal signature. The hunt within the hunt had begun.