Going Green

Chapter 20: Medics are Sickos

After a long day of Verdant in an endless cycle of recharge and onlining, the next day was beginning to look up. Wheeljack helped Verdant walk to the med-bay, where Ratchet was recharging with his helm leaning against the wall.

"Do all smart people have recharge issues?" Wheeljack asked her.

"Oh shut up," she jabbed his side.

Wheeljack smirked and helped her into a chair. She pulled a datapad away from Ratchet and examined it. Data retention was much more difficult when she couldn't download the information or read it at lightning-fast speeds. The urge to sink her feelers into the crevices was strong, but she ignored it in favor of not being in pain.

"Anything interesting?" Wheeljack asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Ratchet has no idea how to help them," Verdant replied. "Synthetic energon usually wears off on it's own, but even as he cycles out their energon and replaces it, nothing results."

"Do you have any ideas?"

Verdant set the datapad down and looked at her teammates. They hissed and snarled, struggling against their restraints. It was a bit unnerving, considering they were the two cutest bots on Earth. She'd never be able to look at them the same after this.

Verdant grabbed Wheeljack's arm and pulled herself up, walking over.

"Careful," Wheeljack warned.

Oh, she planned on being careful. Verdant grabbed Smokescreen's helm with a tentacle and pinned it down. She placed her servo around his neck and held him very still. Her other servo carefully maneuvered closer and she held up a scalpel.

"What are you doing?" Wheeljack asked, his voice betraying some nervousness.

"Nothing irreparable."

She cut out his glossa.

"Oh my Primus," Wheeljack pulled her back and turned off his optics once she was sitting again. "What the frag, Verdant?"

"Oh hush," she placed the glossa on the table. "It was necessary."

"I'm going to purge," Wheeljack leaned over a basket and dry-heaved. "Something is... wrong with you."

Verdant rolled her optics. "You tear mecha in half with a sword, throwing their parts all over the place, and a detatched glossa bothers you?"

"It's not the same," Wheeljack looked at Smokescreen and cringed. "I thought you said you wouldn't do anything irreparable?"

She placed the glossa in a small bag. "If my theory is correct, this part grew in place of Smokescreen's real glossa. Whatever Knockout was using could not possibly have deformed the intake this severely, but it could have caused extra growth that became dominant."

"And if you're wrong?"

"I'm not."

"How do you know?"

Verdant shot him a glare. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not after that!"

"Ugh," Verdant pointed to the vehicon on a medical cot not far away. "This one has been shot in the chassis. I can see into his spark chamber. No spark. Still functioning."

"Yeah," Wheeljack nodded. "They only died when you disconnected the helms."

"Exactly," Verdant grinned viciously. "The infection originates from the intake, or somewhere close. It's controlling the frame via the processor without need for a power source."

Wheeljack's optics lit up. "So the glossa is the brain of the infection."

She nodded. "Whatever substance was transfered at contact with energon would have infected the entire host, but swelled into growth as this sucker. The brain of the issue. If it's removed, chances are, we've cut the parasite off."