As the holographic globe rotated, Scalpel's voice dropped into a low, buzzing rasp. "Little one, I require a specific service from you."
Here it comes, Nathan thought. He knew there was no such thing as unallocated resources in this faction. Scalpel's sudden history lesson hadn't been an act of mentorship; it was a briefing.
"Doctor Scalpel," Nathan began, his vocalizer projecting a tone of calculated hesitation. "I am a Mid-tier unit. If the task you have in mind is critical to the empire, the risk of an operational failure on my part is... significant."
"Ze-ze-ze~ Do not trouble your processors with failure, little one." Scalpel heard the evasion in Nathan's tone but wasn't about to let his most useful asset slip away. "This is not a high-risk combat deployment. I simply need you to locate a specific Decepticon on this planet—or more accurately, their ship."
"A Decepticon ship?" Nathan's sensors spiked. He immediately began running probabilities. A stasis-locked unit? Earth was a graveyard of Cybertronian history. The first visitors had arrived two million years ago, during the Primordial Era. According to the records of the Seeker Jetfire, high-level scouts had been landing on this rock for a million years. It was a statistical certainty that some of them had never left.
Scalpel manipulated the console, and the 3D globe shifted. It dissolved into a new image: a small, jagged craft marked with a peculiar purple insignia—an arachnid with eight symmetrical limbs and a narrow head.
"This is the mark of the pilot," Scalpel explained. "The craft is a Stinger-class scout. In addition to the Decepticon brand, it bears this spider emblem."
I have no record of this, Nathan noted, searching his "future" memories. The live-action films hadn't mentioned a purple spider-marked ship, but after seeing the Synthetic Cores, he was already prepared for deviations in the timeline.
"Doctor, if I find the ship, will the pilot be functional?"
"The vessel's signature is cold. It is likely in deep stasis. You will have to locate the crash site yourself."
Nathan's optical shutters twitched. "And if the local organics have found it?"
This was the real danger. If a human government had the ship, it was locked behind layers of anti-aircraft batteries and reinforced concrete. Nathan was durable, but he wasn't invincible. He could shrug off small arms fire, and even a shoulder-mounted rocket might only dent his plating, but high-velocity armor-piercing rounds or hellfire missiles were a different story.
"If the humans have hidden it, then use your data-thief subroutines," Scalpel countered. "Infiltrate their networks. A ship in a laboratory is easier to find than a ship at the bottom of the ocean."
Nathan remained silent, his processors weighing the request. It was a massive drain on time and energy—resources he needed to find the AllSpark. But he also saw an opportunity for leverage.
"Doctor, operating on this planet is a high-risk endeavor. If I am to act as your long-range operative, I need more than just standard plating. My current weapon modules are... insufficient."
He knew Scalpel's armor-refit was payment for the core testing. This was a new negotiation.
Scalpel's eyes glowed with a predatory yellow light. "You are quite the bargainer, T-22. My materials are limited, but... I can provide a high-frequency upgrade to your forearm blasters."
"Agreed, Doctor Scalpel." Nathan didn't give him a chance to reconsider. "I will locate the ship."
Scalpel turned back to the console, his movements becoming more rigid. "There is one more thing. And this is why I sabotaged the logic chips."
Nathan's internal cooling fans slowed. This was the core of the mystery.
"I modified the chips because I needed eyes that Starscream couldn't close," Scalpel whispered. He projected a new holographic overlay—a heat map of sub-orbital reconnaissance data. It showed a web of red lines concentrated in a single geographic sector.
"These are the Air Commander's flight paths over the last few cycles. Look where they converge."
Nathan focused his optics on the continent of Africa. Specifically, the northeastern corner. Egypt.
The red lines formed a dense cluster southwest of the capital. It was clear Starscream was circling a specific area, searching for something hidden beneath the sand.
"If I remember my pre-transmigration data correctly," Nathan mused internally, "that area is the site of the Great Pyramids."
He felt a chill run through his neural net. While Earth was littered with ancient Cybertronian ruins, there was only one thing in Egypt that would interest a Decepticon Commander.
"The pyramids," Scalpel rasped, his eyes fixed on the map. "My data-analysis suggests those structures were not built by the local organics. They were built by us. And Starscream is looking for the machine they were designed to hide."
Nathan stared at the coordinates. He knew exactly what was there.
The Star Harvester. The sun-killing engine of the Fallen.