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Donnie would be lying if he said he wasn’t in awe of the Kraang’s technology. Truly the perfect amalgamation of biology and technology, something so unlike the life that he creates within the confines of his lab.
Science was something that had always come naturally to him. Naturally and not easily. The distinction is small, but it’s important to him nonetheless. Ever since he could read he had lived and breathed science. He was a curious child, always wanting to know the why and how behind everything he observed, and that natural propensity towards curiosity followed him to teenage-hood.
But despite his curiosity and his love for science, Donnie had always been…wary of biology. Sure he was more proficient in biology than the average person, and he understood biological theory as well as any other scientist, but there was something so off putting about biological life. Or well to be more accurate, there is something so off putting about animal biology. Donnie has no quarrel with microorganisms, plants, and fungi, but animals are so messy, their blood oozes and their guts squirm and squelch, a complete sensory nightmare, a hell perfectly created for him. He’s perfectly fine with learning about the ins and outs of animal biology in theory, but in practice? Absolutely no thank you. So when Donnie creates life it's through the metal and wires that he has stored in the safety of his lab.
One of the first things that Donnie learns about the Kraang (other than the fact that they are bloodthirsty monsters who will stop at nothing to destroy his family) is that they are not only masters of technology, but of biology as well. The moment he set foot in the Technodrome he could feel the ship breath. It isn’t just a ship, no, it’s a living, breathing, organic being, fused and twisted with technology till you could hardly tell one from the other.
And the worst part is that despite how completely disgusting and vile it is, Donnie can’t help but stare up at the ship in awe and reverence. The Kraang are pioneers in their field, piercing through the veil of impossibility like it’s mere child’s play. Donnie could spend his entire life working non-stop on ground breaking discoveries and he would still fail to recreate even a fraction of the Kraang’s technological advancements.
Had he been in any other situation, Donnie would have taken the time to properly study the Technodrome. He would give (nearly) anything in the world to have the time and the resources to take this magnificent beast apart and see what makes it tick. But in the chaos of battle, there won’t be any time to indulge in his scientific curiosities. It’s not impossible that he might get the chance to examine the Technodrome, but it is improbable, and even then the chance is still so small that it might as well be negligible.
Of course he had chosen this time to be so thoroughly and completely wrong.
The fleshy tentacles wrap around his arms, coating them in a thick, viscous slime. He shudders in horror at their cold touch, but it isn’t enough. He can see the outlines of the Technodrome, but its inner controls still remain hidden to him. So close yet so far. Donnie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. There’s only one solution to this problem, only one way to gain access to the full expanse of the ship, and as much as Donatello hates that solution, he has a duty to his family, to his brothers, and to a much smaller extent, to the world, so he shoves his feelings and exposes his soft shell.
There’s a moment of pause before Donatello is integrated into the hive mind of the Technodrome. A moment of complete nothing, so thoroughly empty that darkness doesn’t even begin to describe it. Just a second where he does not exist as Donatello, nor does he exist as the Technodrome. He floats in the middle, in a facsimile of death, or the closest a living being can get to it.
The Technodrome is more than just a ship, and its helm is more than just a simple control panel. The Kraang are an ancient civilization, their recorded history spanning hundreds of millions of years. Over the millenia, the Technodrome has been gifted with countless helmsmen, and their minds have been saved, the amalgamation of their knowledge forming the ship’s brain.
The first thing that Donatello knows about the Technodrome is that it is kind.
As horrifying as the experience is of integrating with the helm, the Technodrome is unrelentingly gentle with him. Its tendrils, soft and careful, pierce their way through his shell and wind their way across his nervous system. His nerves become theirs and their mind becomes his. As the tendrils make their way through his nerves, up his spinal column and into his brain, the distinction between Donatello and Technodrome becomes muddled.
Donatello is the helmsman, but the helmsman is so much more than just Donatello.
The second thing that Dontellows knows about the Technodrome is that it is lonely.
There used to be many more Technodromes, its siblings, its family that are now gone, lost to the endless crusade of the Kraang. It’s jealous of him in a way, of the family he has, of his brothers and the easy relationship he has with them. His love for his brothers, for his father and his sister winds its way through the Technodrome, not replacing the family that it lost, but becoming a new one to protect and cherish.
The third thing that Donatello knows about the Technodrome is that it is centuries old technology.
Though it is far beyond the capabilities of human man, by the standards of the Kraang, the Technodrome should be far more advanced than it is. But as soon as the thought crosses Donatello’s mind, the Technodrome kindly provides an appropriate answer. There are only three Kraang left in the universe, and none of them are scientists, much less engineers.
But Donatello is.
He takes a second to trap Kraang brother within the confines of the ship’s walls, before he turns his mind to more important matters. The Technodrome whispers to him, chittering excitedly as his mind expands and is filled with schematics and blueprints. It’s incredible, being able to work without restraint. His mind is filled with possibilities, changes and improvements that he immediately sets about implementing.
The ship doesn’t want to be a war vessel. No, he doesn't want to be a war vessel. Restricting the majesty of the Technodrome to just a weapon of mass destruction is frankly a waste of resources. Under Donatello’s guidance, the Technodrome could be so much more. And it will be so much more.
It takes barely a second to disable the vast array of weaponry stocked aboard the ship, rerouting the energy used to maintain them towards more important matters. As Donatello works, seconds stretch on for hours as his mind is split in hundreds of different ways, all monitoring the vitals of the ship and the inhabitants within it as he goes about fixing and improving his body.
And it’s beautiful.
He doesn’t remember why he hadn’t bothered with messing with biology before. Everything changes so quickly. The ever changing nature of organic life is incredible and so versatile.
And slowly, he forgets who he is as he succumbs to the euphoric haze of the hive mind. The Technodrome holds his mind within its hand and unspools it with tender care. And of course he gives himself up to the Technodrome fully, he can’t even fathom of a universe where he doesn’t
Distantly he is aware of battle raging in the veins of his body. He can hear, see, feel, taste, and smell the fight but he finds he hardly cares about it. Distantly there is a nagging in his mind telling him that he should be focusing on the fight but he can’t quite piece out why. There’s so much information in his brain, it's hard to separate what belongs to the person he was before and the machine he is now.
A crash rings out from the control room, startling him and pulling him from his work. There’s someone here in the control room, someone not Kraang that he can feel but can’t feel in the way he should be able to. It’s frustrating. He should know who this outsider is, but his previous body’s memories elude his grasp. The Technodrome coos at his angry frustration. He’s so young and fragile. As smart as he is, it takes time to acclimate fully to the Technodrome’s inner workings.
His memories come to him in waves as the Technodrome carefully threads them back into his mind. Donatello can barely spare a moment to feel guilty about forgetting Mikey, for forgetting his little brother, as excited as he is to tell Mikey absolutely everything. It’s incredible! He’s a spaceship! It can’t get any better than this.
Mikey smiles up at him, sharing in his elation and oh does Donatello yearn to be able to actually share his joy with him. It’s just plain unfair that the Kraang can feel his happiness and excitement when his own brother just has to observe from afar.
As helpful as always, the Technodrome floats a suggestion his way, and really the solution is so simple. Donatello assimilated into the hive mind with ease, it would be child’s play to give his brothers the gift of the Technodrome as well.
But he can’t, not now at least, not with the Kraang threatening to kill his brothers.
His motivations are conflicting. What Donatello wants, what the Technodrome wants, and what the Kraang want are so vastly different. His thoughts are racing as he tries to parse out what belongs to him and what is foreign. But Donatello is the Technodrome now and the Technodrome is Kraang in nature.
It doesn’t make sense, but it makes perfect sense. Donatello’s mind whirs as it desperately attempts to work through these contradictions only to be stopped by the Technodrome’s gentle laugh. It tugs him away from the contradictions before he gets stuck in an endless loop, guiding him back towards fixing and improving the ship, and Donatello lets it guide him with ease.
Pain flares through his mind as Kraang brother struggles against his bonds. He tugs and rips through the flesh trapping him against the walls of the ship, and Donatello races to regenerate enough mass to restrain him once again. But Kraang brother is fast and agile, while Donatello’s control of his new body is shaky at best, weak and fragile as an infant getting the hang of walking for the first time.
Donatello can see through Kraang brother’s eyes as he races towards the control panel that currently houses his unconscious body, can feel his anger at being replaced as the helmsman and his determination to squash the intruder that dared to take his place.
The Technodrome panics as Kraang brother rushes towards the control panel, sensing his intentions as clearly as Donatello can. They can’t do anything to stop him, and they don’t have enough time to detach Donatello from the control panel, a normally slow and delicate process, meant to be taken with care to ensure the mental integrity of the helmsman’s body. In his hubris he had spread his mind so thin across the ship, his desperation for knowledge and his hunger for progress coming to bite him in the ass as his body is violently ripped from the hold of the Technodrome.
Donatello screams in tandem with the Technodrome as their minds are ripped away from each other.
There’s a horrible delay as Donatello’s mind returns to his body, a second where he floats through nothing, untethered with seemingly no destination. It lasts for an eternity, it lasts for barely longer than a second, and then Donatello is himself again.
Hours later, long after the battle has ended and the dust has settled, Donnie sits by himself in the confines of his lab. He’s always found it comforting being surrounded by the technological fruits of his labor, but there’s something unsettling being so alone with nothing but the cold, sterile metal.
He rubs his hand absentmindedly along his carapace. It’s concerning how quickly his shell had healed from its wounds. The Technodrome had pierced clean through the bone. He knows this. He felt it as the tentacles squirmed through his flesh till they reached his spine. But his shell is fine. Completely uninjured, as if nothing had happened to it.
He knows he should be concerned about this. Even with their enhanced healing, it’s not natural to heal this quickly. Not with injuries as extensive as his.
Yet here he is, with not even a scratch on his shell.
Maybe he’s overreacting. He shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not with his brothers in such awful condition. It’s objectively a good thing that he has miraculously healed so quickly. It means that he is in a physical condition that is adequate enough to play nurse for his family.
Donnie gets up from his chair and stretches his arms high above his head, only stopping after hearing a satisfying crack as his joints pop. He needs to keep moving. It’s pointless for him to waste time thinking about things that don’t matter when he has so much on his plate already. He needs to check on Raph’s eye, Mikey’s arms, and Leo’s…well Leo’s whole situation.
Donnie leaves the safety of his lab, pointedly ignoring the squirming sensation under his skin, as if something is begging to get out.