Learning to Dance

black. As her eyes began to focus, they drifted down to the
shiny metal gloves he seemed to be wearing where he
should have had hands.
Dr. Space-Claw.
“Up-” she tried again. The problem was, she didn’t know
what to ask. She had seen it. She had seen it all.
Space-Claw shifted his weight, and paused.
“Commander Up was sawed vertically in half by the
Autobot Optimus Prime. His injuries-”
“Say it,” she rasped. She had to hear someone else say it.
“Lieutenant,” Dr. Space-Claw said, his voice smooth,
calm, and she hated him for it, more than she had ever
hated anyone. “His injuries were extensive. Some would
say that he died on that battlefield.”
He died. There it was. Up died. Up was dead. Up who
was the reason she was alive, Up, who had always seemed
invincible. Up, who loved her. She tried to understand it,
feel it, accept it, but her brain felt nothing but numb.
“Lieutenant,” the acting Admiral said again, waiting to
continue until she looked at him, dully. “Some would say
that he died. I would disagree.”
What are you talking about, you estupida son-of-a-
bitch? Stop playing games with me. I saw it happen.
“You see, Lieutenant,” Dr. Space-Claw continued,
unperturbed. “I am not your average doctor. Where others
see a corpse – I see... potential.”
A corpse, a corpse, you hijo de puta, you don’t care, do
you, that he wasn’t just another disposable Ranger to me,
he was the man I love -
“And as you know, Commander Up is a key figure for
the G.L.E.E. - a hero, someone to rally around, someone to
bring hope. And now, at this crucial juncture in history, that
role is more important than ever. So it was imperative to me
to ensure that the history books tell a different story than