"A Proximity Disassembler. It's a security system." Wheeljack closed the cover on the squat device hidden in the scrub, and stepped back. "Here, hold this."

With some trepidation, Bluestreak accepted the flat square with the big red button on it. "Is this what I think it is? Because if it is, I should be really careful not to press that button. I mean, not knowing what it does and all, but the last time I pressed a button on one of your gizmos, I had cleaning duty for a week, not to mention that I had to repair Sunstreaker's quarters first, and he wasn't terribly pleased about the whole business, I can tell you."

"You certainly can. And don't worry, the remote isn't active, and neither is the sensor field." Wheeljack peered up at the stormfront rolling in towards the Ark's crash site. "I can't run final tests with it getting rained on. That stuff's conductive, and I can't seal the circuits until it tests OK." He turned and started walking back to the Ark.

"Not sealed? But it'll get rained on! It's... not in range of the Ark, is it? Only you said 'disassembler', and if Sunstreaker's polish cabinet gets disassembled again he'll be impossible to live with. I only escaped last time because I borrowed some emergency supplies off Tracks, and I almost gave Sunstreaker the blue polish instead of the clear polish, which would have been pretty funny I guess, but I'm pretty sure he would have made me regret it -"

"The cover's waterproof. Anyway, you'd have to be within twenty feet of it. It's not like a rifle, more like... a mine. A Decepticon sneaks up to the Ark, gets in range of one of these, and zap!"

"Zap?" asked the silver gunner, trotting behind his comrade.

"Yeah! One Decepticon, minus anything that sticks out. Arms, legs, and weapons mainly. If I can get an aerial version going, some of those jets might find themselves missing a wing or two."

"What about if Autobots get caught in it?"

"Don't. The prototype isn't fully tuned yet. It could rip your legs off."

Bluestreak fell uncharacteristically silent, and Wheeljack knew he was avoiding asking exactly how the white inventor had discovered that particular piece of information. Which Wheeljack was thankful for, even if he _had_ been planning to get new hip joints anyway.

* * * * *

Wheeljack leaned on his lab bench and frowned. The storm front hadn't blown over as fast as predicted, and the Proximity Disassembler was still out there in the middle of it. Every time he'd stuck his head out of the Ark, the weather had been worse. First drizzle, then heavy rain, and now hailstones. At this rate, he'd have to shelve the entire project. Prime wouldn't let him test the Disassembler indoors, and he couldn't go and open the waterproof cover with all this rain around. Water shouldn't even _be_ this conductive - pure dihydrogen oxide was almost a perfect electrical insulator, for Cybertron's sake!

Wheeljack picked up a miniprobe and twirled it in one hand, thinking of ways to get the prototype tested before Smokescreen noticed his spare disrupter missiles were missing a couple of parts.

* * * * *

One of Prowl's many jobs was to maintain discipline in the Autobot crew. So when he'd caught Bluestreak pelting for the door, he'd waylaid the red-chevroned sharpshooter and asked the reason. From the torrent of words, he'd discerned two things. First, that Wheeljack had built some kind of mine from Smokescreen's missiles. Second, that Smokescreen had found out and headed out into the storm.

"...and he said he was going to get his missiles back and have a friendly chat with Wheeljack, and Smokescreen's nice enough but you never know, and he didn't look happy, and - oh no!"

"Define oh no."

"Wheeljack's Prox- uh, mine-thing! It's not waterproof on the inside! If Smokescreen opens it in the rain, it could go off!"

Prowl calculated how long it could take Bluestreak to communicate the mine's exact location to him, and whether Smokescreen would listen if Bluestreak told him to leave the mine alone. It took all of a millisecond.

"_Go_, I'll follow."

Both Autobots sprinted for the Ark's exit, shifting into vehicle mode and accelerating with a screech of tyres. Prowl kept on Bluestreak's tail while his mind busied itself with minutiae. He would have to schedule a talk with Wheeljack covering such topics 'why you should always let Prowl know exactly when and where you've put mines near the Ark'.

The storm, thankfully, had abated as the two aliens cleared the Ark's main entranceway and rocketed into the scrub. _Perhaps Smokescreen won't blow himself to smithereens after all_, thought Prowl.

Bluestreak braked suddenly near a small cluster of stunted trees, and Prowl almost ran into him. They couldn't have driven off road for more than ten seconds - surely even Wheeljack wouldn't have interpreted 'test it outside' as meaning 'right next door'?

But Bluestreak transformed, and plunged into the tiny copse. It must have been the only feature of the desert landscape big enough to hide one of Wheeljack's inventions, Prowl groaned as he followed. Maybe he thought it was the only place a Decepticon could hide, too.

Smokescreen wasn't trying to hide. He was, however, having some trouble wrenching the damp lid off the squat grey lump behind the trees. Wheeljack tended to use turbospanners to tighten bolts.

"Smokescreen!" Prowl roared. The red and blue tactician jumped, and the top of Wheeljack's 'mine' snapped off, described a wobbly arc in the air and buried itself in the sand between the three Datsuns. Everyone froze.

"Smokescreen, that thing may be water-activated. Step away from it _right now_ before you kill all three of us."

Smokescreen's gaze flickered towards the mine's innards. But he obeyed, stepping carefully backwards and watching for Prowl's approval. "Hey, Prowl. Seems like there may have been a little mixup with some missile parts going astray."

"I know, and I'll talk to Wheeljack about it. For now, let's get out of range."

It was unfortunate that the Proximity Disassembler was hidden beneath the storm-soaked foliage. It was even more unfortunate that the thunderhead retreating over the horizon had a few last gusts of wind to spend. Raindrops ran over leaves, pooled for a moment... and fell.

* * * * *

Wheeljack poked his head out of the Ark and brightened. With the weather gone, he could finish testing his Proximity Disassembler before Smokescreen ever suspected a thing. He hadn't moved more than ten feet outside, however, before something tiny and metallic glanced off his head with a *ping*.

He looked up in surprise, and was showered with metal plating, circuitry, gears and tail-lights. The mystery deluge stopped as soon as it had begun, and Wheeljack cautiously plucked what appeared to be a gearbox from the ground. It looked kind of familiar... uh oh.

"Optimus?" he radioed. "Do you know where Smokescreen is? Or," he added, turning the mechanism over in his hands, "Bluestreak?"

"I haven't seen either of them, Wheeljack. Or, strangely enough, Prowl. Has the weather cleared enough for you to test your device?"

"I... don't think so, Optimus," Wheeljack responded. He looked at the scattered parts littering the Ark's entrance.

"It's raining Datsun cogs."