My code, [Ratchet's voice is flat and deliberate, his blue eyes intent on Knock Out's face.] is to keep as many of the people under my care alive and functional as possible. Drift nearly bled out from that chunk you took out of his side with a saw. And I don't see how the fact that you follow someone into a fight who doesn't give a damn whether you live or die beyond whether or not you're useful to him is my problem.

[Ratchet's lips thin and he settles back a little on the bench, sighing.]

But I don't like the idea of leaving a fellow Cybertronian on a hostile planet with that kind of handicap, no. I don't even know if I can help you--do you have a scan of the code?