Drift’s
consciousness slipped in and out as the circuit boosters were flushed out of
his system. Waves of pain ebbed from his chest every time his spark pulsed. His
vision was unfocused and blurred, but in the haze, he could make out a white
face, with a red helm and a grey chevron hovering inches over his own. The
bot’s intake was moving, but he could only hear static. Drift dialed up
his audials and winced when it kept shorting out. Fortunately, he was
barely able to make out the bot’s voice over the noise.