This is what happens when I go to see the second Transformers movie. Instant inspiration that has not left me alone! So...I did what I always do, and got busy. I present to you my usual, with a mechanical twist. Tell me what you think?
Day One: Thursday
"Doc?"
Ratchet sighed and looked to the door. He had yet to get the human portion of NEST to quit calling him that, and he had a feeling Major Lennox was the reason the name had been attached to him in the first place.
"Yes, Major?"
"Could you have a look at Ironhide?"
"May I ask why?"
"Well, he just spewed God knows what all over the main hangar floor and now he's curled up against one of the walls. I'm no good at reading you guys, but he looks pretty sick to me."
Ratchet perked up at this and got to his feet.
"Show me."
Major Lennox obediently moved back out the door, taking a quick sidestep onto the top of Ratchet's left foot as it swung past him. Prior experience had taught him and quite a few others that this was the only way to keep up with an Autobot in a hurry if you were on foot.
-----------------------------
Sure enough, Ironhide was a big heap of black and dark gray in the corner of the hangar, huddled in on himself and taking up as little space as was possible without taking on his alternate form. Ratchet ignored him at first and went over to examine the puddle on the hangar floor.
"Energon," he said quietly, crouching to get a better look. "And oil. How many times do I have to tell him that we don't need oil?"
"Is that what caused this?" Lennox asked.
"I doubt it, or it would have happened sooner." He scanned the puddle, then straightened and went to Ironhide's side. He scanned him, then made a small, amused noise.
"I fail to find anything amusing in this," Ironhide growled from his position on the floor.
"It's only funny to me, 'hide. How do you feel?"
"Like my tanks are being crushed. You already know something I don't, so quit the 'good doctor' act and just tell me what it is."
Ratchet shrugged.
"It was only a matter of time before the viruses on this planet adapted to affect us. You are simply the first successful infection."
Major Lennox choked on a laugh. "You mean he has stomach flu?"
"A strain of it, yes."
This news prompted a groan from Ironhide.
"Slag it," he growled. "Why me?"
"Bad luck," Ratchet said simply. "Go lie down, and don't bother with your alt mode. I don't want to know how much of a mess you'll make if you go and purge your tanks without the appropriate orifice. Try and get some Energon down in a little while."
Ironhide made an uncomfortable noise and rolled onto his hands and knees. After a moment of scratchy whirring noises, he jerked and heaved. More of the Energon and oil mixture splattered on the floor. Major Lennox hopped out of the way. Ratchet just sighed and waited until he had finished, then pulled him gently to his feet. He could feel a gentle heat coming off the weapons expert, and sighed.
"You're overheating," he muttered, sliding his arm across Ironhide's shoulder to help him stay upright.
"Goody," Ironhide grumbled. "Just help me get to my bunk."
Ratchet bit back a chuckle and did just that.
-------------------------------------
Day 2: Friday
"I'm going to magnetize him to that bunk if he keeps this up," Ratchet groused, storming around his medbay like a big yellow rain cloud. "It never changes. I tell him what will help him not heave the contents of his tanks all over creation, and what does he do? The exact opposite. And then he comes in and whines because he feels like slag."
Optimus chuckled.
"You can't change what he is."
"He's a massive pain in the aft, that's what he is. I can't do my job if he doesn't let me!"
"Is there anything you can actually do?"
"No, but that isn't the point."
"And the point is…"
"That I can't function as a doctor if my patient keeps ignoring my instructions!"
"Can you magnetize him?"
"Yes. It isn't a question of ability, it's just a matter of me getting in there and doing it. And, of course, the ethical-"
"If you think he needs it, I trust your judgment."
Ratchet looked at Optimus, found no joking smile, and made a pleased noise.
"I'll give him until tonight. If he keeps acting up, then I'm sticking him to that damn bunk and he isn't going anywhere until I say so."
"That's the spirit."
Late that night, half the hangar was woken by Ironhide's deafening protests to his treatment. The brave few who went to see what the problem was found Ironhide twisting into odd positions in an attempt to unstick his feet from the end of his bunk. His progress was somewhat impeded by the way his hands and other body parts had a tendency to stick to the bare parts of the metal bunk whenever he let them get too close. The condition of his tanks didn't help matters.
Ratchet stood over him, looking smug.
"Let this be a lesson," he said.
"A lesson in what?"
"A lesson in listening to the medic treating you."
Ironhide huffed but had no snappy response.
-----------------------------
Day 3: Saturday
Bumblebee peered around the edge of the medbay door. Ratchet looked up at him, noted that there didn't seem to be any visible problem, and returned to fiddling with the delicate little toy one of the soldiers had given him. The thing was called a Rubix Cube, and it would have been enough of a challenge to keep him happy for some time without being so small he had to use some of his tools to play with it.
"Yes?"
"Houston, we have a problem."
"Your vocal processor again? Or something else?"
"Dad, I'm sick, I don't feel good. Pull over, man."
If he remembered correctly, the line had been an almost immediate precursor to the character vomiting by the side of the road.
"Trash bin," he said quickly. "Now."
Bumblebee needed no further prompting. He crossed the medbay in a few hurried strides and huddled over the dumpster Ratchet used for a trash can, shaking. Ratchet joined him, sliding one hand between him and the dumpster to press against his belly plating and the tanks beneath it.
"Just relax," he said gently. "Let it happen."
It took a few more minutes before Bumblebee finally relaxed enough to purge his tanks. The edge of the dumpster warped and twisted under the grip he had on it. Ratchet silently held him through it, then pulled him away from the dumpster when he stopped heaving and backed him onto one of the massive tables in the middle of the room. He went easily, turning onto his side with a heavy sigh.
Ratchet scanned him, just to make sure, and nodded.
"The same virus Ironhide has."
Bumblebee groaned.
"When you feel up to it, you should go to your bunk and stay there. With you and Ironhide both sick, I can assign several of the soldiers to see to your needs. Understood?"
"I'm alright, it's just a scratch."
"Don't you start. If I have to make magnetizing all of you to your bunks a standard treatment of this virus, then I will. Now, bed. No detours, no dawdling, and no excuses."
---------------------------------------
Day 4: Sunday
Sam walked in the big door into the main hangar expecting to see his friends out and about, busy doing their part in keeping NEST running smoothly. Instead, he found Optimus on a video call and no other Autobots in sight.
"Doc's in the medbay," a passing soldier advised. "Careful, he's crabby."
As far as Sam knew, Ratchet didn't do crabby. Curious, he headed for Ratchet's domain.
The medic was toying with what looked like a sample case when Sam arrived, turning it over and over in his hands and looking off into space. It took him a minute or two to realize that he had company.
"Ah, Sam. Good to see you. How is your education going?"
"Fine, I guess…where is everyone?"
"Ironhide and Bumblebee are in their bunks. Everyone else is trying to avoid them."
Sam frowned.
"Avoid them?"
Ratchet nodded.
"They have a tank virus. I can't say if it's particularly contagious or not, but it has put them both on the off-duty list. Ironhide is on his fourth day already."
"Tank virus?"
"Yes. It involves mild overheating in the main systems and periodical purging of the tanks, what you would call…puking your guts up, I think. There are other symptoms, but those are causing the most discomfort."
"They have stomach flu?"
"Of a kind, yes."
Sam goggled at Ratchet, then snorted.
"Ironhide made a big fuss, didn't he?"
"What makes you say that?"
"No way 'bee managed to get you this irritated."
Ratchet smiled faintly and gave Sam a helpless shrug.
"It's his nature."
"You got that right. Can I see 'bee?"
"Of course. Just don't get him too excited about anything, or you'll be cleaning up the results."
Sam winced and headed out the door.
Bumblebee had at least heeded Ratchet's instructions to stay down, rather than fight it like Ironhide had been. When Sam came in, he was lying still and quiet on his bunk, arms crossed over his abdomen.
"Hey, 'bee," Sam said quietly.
Bumblebee turned to look at him. His optics brightened and he made a pleased trilling noise. Sam grinned.
"Ratchet said it was alright if I kept you company for a bit. How are you feeling?"
I've had worse. Can't actually remember any of 'em right now, though.
"That bad, huh?"
He nodded. Sam smiled and sat down on the edge of the bunk. Bumblebee sighed and shifted enough to give him room, then relaxed again.
Several minutes later, Wheelie zoomed in, coming to a sudden halt near the edge of the bunk and transforming into his more functional mode.
"Hey, Witwicky!"
"Hey, Wheelie. What's up?"
"The soldiers want you in the hangar. Jolt's being a handful and they think you can talk 'im down."
"Being a handful?"
"Being a stubborn aft, but you didn't hear that from me. C'mon, I wanna get back outside."
Sam slid off the bunk and followed Wheelie out.
To say that Jolt was being a handful was something of an understatement. When Sam reentered the hangar, he found Jolt facing off a huddle of soldiers that were grouped in front of the hangar door, which was partially open. There were three of them on him, one hanging onto either leg and one up on his shoulders, apparently trying to reason with him.
"Are they trying to keep him from leaving the hangar?" Sam asked, heading for the door.
"Yep."
"Why?"
"'cuz he's hot enough to hurt, that's why. They figger he's got the slaggin' bug too, and no one wants him getting' out and windin' up too sick to get back.
Sam shook his head. He knew Jolt was a snobbish troublemaker at times, but this was just silly. He took off across the hangar at a trot, Wheelie speeding along at his side.
"Whatsamatter, Jolt?" he asked when he reached the bot's side. "You on house arrest?"
"So it would seem," Jolt growled. "Call the soldiers off."
"You know I don't have the authority to do that." Acting friendly, Sam put a hand on Jolt's leg, then yanked it back. "You're awful hot. Are you feeling alright?"
"Sour tank," Jolt said dismissively. "I want to go for a drive to settle it, but they won't let me."
"You might have that virus Bumblebee and Ironhide have," Sam pointed out. "It's pretty bad, from what I hear. Probably not a good idea for you to go out."
"I'd know if it was that bad. I just need some air and a good drive, and I'll be fine!"
Sam looked over at Sergeant Mason, one of the few gathered soldiers he actually knew, and winked. Then he turned back to Jolt.
"Only if I can come with you. Deal?"
Jolt considered this, then plucked the soldier from his shoulder and set him on the ground.
"Deal. Get off of me, humans, or you'll be flattened."
The gathered men scattered, watching quietly as Jolt shifted into alt mode and Sam climbed inside. With a little more rev than was necessary and the scream of tires on smooth concrete, Jolt tore out of the hangar.
Once they were off the base and on one of the nearly deserted old highways surrounding the area, Sam let go of the wheel and relaxed back in his seat, letting Jolt do the driving. After a minute or two, he rolled his window down; the Chevy Volt's interior was sweltering, even though it was fairly cool outside, further evidence that all was not well in Jolt's systems.
The location of the NEST base had been chosen for more than one reason. Aside from the fact that it was fairly remote but still accessible, the miles of two-lane highway and dirt roads twisting over and around the surrounding hills were a paradise for the Autobots. It was more than safe enough for them to go for a drive without bothering with a holographic driver, or to find a grassy hollow, transform, and catch an hour of recharge in the sun. This also meant it was not the best place to break down.
Sam had been expecting Jolt to give in much sooner than he had. He really should have known better, what with Jolt's reputation for being almost as unwilling to admit injury as Ironhide, but he had been sure the robotic equivalent of a bad stomach flu would have been hard to ignore. Not so.
They were a good half-hour out when something under Jolt's hood made an unnatural sound.
"You okay, Jolt?"
The entire vehicle shuddered violently, then pulled into a tight turn that took them off the side of the road. They bounced off the shoulder and came to a juddering halt in the grass. As soon as they were stationary, the driver's side door flew open and Sam found himself tossed out; he landed in the grass with a thump and a squawk of protest. Behind him, Jolt transformed at impressive speed, coming up on his knees, and purged his tanks. To someone who had no idea how Autobots threw up, the loud process with its nasty grating noise was a fairly worrisome thing.
When Jolt was lying on his side in the grass, intakes practically buzzing with the force they were pulling air in with and fans whirring frantically, Sam approached him cautiously.
"Jolt?"
"I think I need to go back to base," the mech said quietly.
"Yeah, no kidding. Can you get back into alt mode, so we can get back?"
Jolt shook his head.
"I don't think so. It hurts too much like that. Not enough room in alt mode for my tanks." He groaned and clutched at his chassis.
Sam sighed and dug his phone out of his pocket. He had the base on speed dial.
"NEST base, this is Lieutenant Ellis."
"Yeah, hi, this is Sam Witwicky. I'm out on Highway Three with Jolt, and he doesn't think he can get into alt mode to get us back to base. We're about thirty, maybe forty miles out. Can I get a pickup?"
----------------------------------------------------------------
Day 5- Monday
Ironhide strode in bright and early with Skids and Mudflap tucked under his arms. Neither one of them was protesting the undignified treatment, a sure sign that they were the latest casualties.
"Here," Ironhide grunted, dumping the pair in a tangle of limbs on one of Ratchet's examining tables. He hopped up to sit on the other one, head cradled in his hands. "I caught them before they could get too far."
Ratchet gave the groaning heap of bodies a cursory scan, and sighed. Two more cases of the virus.
"They were trying to escape?"
"Trying to hide, actually. In storage."
Ratchet snorted and patted the nearest shoulder, then moved around the table to Ironhide.
"How are you feeling?"
"Weak," Ironhide muttered. "Headachy and weak."
"But better, I take it?"
"Yeah."
"Keeping your Energon down?"
"Would you have let me up if I wasn't?"
"No, but I have to ask."
"I'm fine. You just deal with Thing One and Thing Two here, and I'll do what I do best."
"Scaring the Spark out of the new arrivals?"
"Precisely."
Ratchet nodded.
"Mmm…take it easy, though. And if you want to keep your image, using references from children's books is not the best way to do it. I'm sure the Major's daughter appreciates your remembering parts of her favorite Dr. Seuss book, though."
Ironhide made a few irate noises and took a swipe at Ratchet's hip as he headed back towards the twins. Ratchet stepped out of the way without bothering to look his way.
"Clearly, you've recovered enough to get out of my way. Here- take this to Jolt and tell him he'll take it willingly or I'll give it to him through a direct line." He waved a canister at Ironhide. "And keep to one side of him. I can't guarantee it will stay down."
"Get someone else to do it."
"Someone else will still be risking infection. You can't get sick again. Do it."
Grumbling, Ironhide snatched the canister from Ratchet's hand and stomped out. Behind him, Ratchet chuckled and began scanning Skids and Mudflap to determine whether or not they would require experimental treatment like Jolt.
---------------------------------
Day 6- Tuesday
"Ratchet!"
Epps came sprinting into the medbay. He was splattered with Energon and looked about as frantic as he had during the fight for the All Spark.
"Something wrong?"
"Yeah. Sideswipe just puked and collapsed. He's just…lying there, twitching a bit."
"Where?"
"Rec room."
Ratchet bent to grab Epps- who yelped and grabbed at one massive finger to keep from falling- and scrambled out the door.
-------------------------------
Day 7- Wednesday
There was enough clear space in front of the hangar doors for Bumblebee to execute several fast, tight turns and a little hop before coming to a halt and letting Sam and Mikela stagger out. He transformed at once, scooping his friends up and heading into the hangar.
"Okay, 'bee, new rule. No making us too dizzy to walk without a warning," Mikela laughed, clinging to Sam until the hangar stopped spinning.
"I second that," Sam agreed. He had a fairly solid hold on Bumblebee's thumb, one he intended to maintain until he could see straight.
"C'mon, where's your sense of adventure?"
"Back on the highway where you hit that dip at…what was it, seventy? Eighty?"
"You guys're- aww, man."
Naturally, both Sam and Mikela looked to see what the problem was.
"Optimus?" Mikela breathed.
Across the hangar, Optimus Prime was sitting with his back against the wall, head fallen back, looking as much like death warmed over as twenty-eight feet of alien robot commander could. All personnel nearby were giving him a very wide berth, most likely for the same reason that there was a dumpster sitting next to his left hand.
Bumblebee approached cautiously, holding Sam and Mikela out of the way. Optimus lifted his head to look at them, then let it fall back against the wall with a ringing clank.
"I see you're up and running again, Bumblebee."
"Ow! I feel good!"
"Remind me to find something suitably annoying for Ironhide to do when I think I can move more than my head without purging my tanks, would you?"
"Why Ironhide?" Sam asked, leaning over the side of Bumblebee's palm.
"I don't know who brought the organic virus here. I do know that Ironhide showed symptoms first, and purged his tanks in the main hangar, where the virus had more than enough opportunities to spread. Therefore, I blame him."
"Anything we can do?" Mikela ventured, joining Sam on her stomach.
Optimus was quiet for a minute, considering this, then nodded faintly.
"Find out if the offer of a good hose down is still good. If it is, request cold water, please."
"Sure thing. Put me down, 'bee, I'll go find someone."
Bumblebee swung Mikela down to the floor and let her jog off in search of a soldier who wasn't obviously busy.
"So…uh, aside from the obvious…how are you feeling?"
"I've been better, Sam. I've been much better."
"Have you seen Ratchet yet?"
Optimus shook his head. He brought one hand up to scrub tiredly at his optics.
"He's busy with Sideswipe. I can wait."
"What's up with 'swipe?"
"His internal temperature is reaching dangerous levels. Ratchet is attempting to lower it before something gets melted."
Sam flinched. He'd seen the bots in flames and not too bothered by it. The idea of having a body temperature hot enough to melt part of one of those nearly invulnerable bodies was not a pleasant one.
"Geez…that really sucks. For both of you."
"Mmmhm."
"How's the rest of the crew doing?"
"Ironhide has recovered. Sideswipe is with Ratchet. The twins have been stuck to their bunks. Jolt has locked himself in his room and refuses to speak to anyone, due to his inability to get his faceplate up fast enough while crossing the hangar and the resulting mess."
Sam and Bumblebee both flinched.
"Ratchet is ready to offline the next bot who complains to him, or so I hear."
"That bad?"
"That bad."
"Guess I'll steer clear of the med-bay, then. Do you know if- never mind, here comes your shower. Feel better, okay?"
"Thank you."
----------------------------
Day 11- Sunday
Wheelie just happened to be rolling into the medbay when Ratchet staggered away from his desk and headed for the dumpster. He scooted around a table to get a better look, scanning the medic with his infra-red vision. Red hot. Clearly, someone had been more concerned with everyone else than he had been with himself.
Ratchet leaned over the dumpster for a moment, intakes nearly silenced, then heaved a heavy sigh and returned to the desk.
"Got the bug yerself, huh?"
"If you aren't in immediate need of medical attention, Wheelie, leave my medbay before I give you a reason to be here."
Wheelie ignored the threat, knowing Ratchet wouldn't do anything drastic.
"So…are ya forcing your Energon back down, or are yer tanks jus' empty already?"
"I'm fine, Wheelie. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
"You're runnin' as hot as Skids was when you sent him to his bunk. Shouldn't you be back in your bunk?"
"How did- infra-red. You little….just get out now and you can keep all your parts where they are."
"Hey, hey, I'm just showin' a little concern for my fellow mech. Wouldn't want ya to…I dunno, purge on the Major or something, right?"
Ratchet made a distressed noise and got to his feet again. Wheelie moved back behind the nearest table in case Ratchet was going to make good on his threats. His worry was for no reason- Ratchet took two steps towards him, then abruptly reversed course and sprinted for the dumpster. Wheelie made a hasty exit.
A short while later, Wheelie zoomed back in with most of the functioning bots on the base in tow. They located Ratchet on the table in the back, lying fairly still except for the sound of his fans working overtime.
"I'm going to turn you into a femme, you little glitch," he growled when Wheelie came into view. "An ugly femme."
"He's just doing what I asked him to," Ironhide chuckled, scooping Wheelie up and handing him off to someone who would keep him from getting caught by Ratchet. "Checking up on you so we would know when you finally broke down."
"I'm fine," Ratchet muttered. "Just undercharged, from dealing with all of you."
"Uh-huh. Tell that to your tanks. C'mon, your bunk is calling you."
"I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you, so kindly remove yourselves from my- hey!"
Ignoring Ratchet's protests, Ironhide picked the boxy medic up and headed for the door.
------------------------------------
Sometime later…
"You look like shit," Epps commented, dropping into a seat across from Major Lennox.
"I feel like it," Will agreed, sniffling.
"I'll cover for you if you wanna catch a nap in the rec room."
"I have a conference call with Secretary Keller in- whoa, hey, put me down!"
Ratchet lifted Will to eye level and gave him a quick scan. Then he marched out of the hangar, across the grounds, and out to the guard shack at the gates. He lowered him onto the grass on the far side of the fence and faced him, hands on hips.
"Stay off base until you've recovered, Major, I will not have a repeat of the tank virus."
"But I have a-"
"I will explain your absence."
"You can't just-"
"I can and I will."
"I'm the commanding officer!"
"For a military I am not a part of."
Will sputtered indignantly, eventually falling into a fit of coughing. Ratchet waited until he had finished before saying anything else.
"I will bring your vehicle out for you. Please remain on that side of the fence."
"Ratchet, aren't you taking this-"
"My job is to do everything I can to ensure the health of the Autobots on Earth. That extends to removing potential threats that they are unable to properly combat. You are one such threat. As such, I am allowed to do whatever I deem necessary to keep you off this base until I think you are ready to return."
"Doc," Will began. Ratchet shook his head.
"Recharge and fluids will do wonders for you. Stay put while I get your vehicle."
Will sighed and sat down in the grass, watching Ratchet marched purposefully towards the parking lot.
"Just don't scratch the paint!"