"If I had my way, I'd hook you up to a dialysis machine and make you sit still for--" he sizes Megatron up briefly "--eh, six hours, so you couldn't cause any more trouble. However, I don't have a dialysis machine, and if I actually had my way I wouldn't be here at all, so as it is I'll mix you something to drink that will clear out most of it. I expect it's a combined effect of rock dust and poor quality energon that's causing the problem, neither of which should crop up at the same rate here, at least, and undo all my work."

Ratchet leans back and knocks twice on Megatron's shoulder, light and brisk.

"C'mon, up. Finish that cube and I'll start getting everything else together." He eyes Megatron critically, then reaches down to fiddle at his wrist. A syringe pops out, the barrel flush with a pinkish-blue liquid. "These first, I think, actually. Sit still for a minute."