Title: Running into Ghosts Chapter 1/2
Warnings: suspense, implied relationship, smut (of the pnp kind), fluff, angst
Continuity: G1 [part of the Dysfunction AU], pre-war
Characters: Vortex, Blast Off, Skycraze (OC), Crackdown (OC)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
Summary: Vortex and Blast Off have an encounter in space, and Vortex learns that there are some things you can't fight.
Beta: ultharkitty
Vortex leant back in the co-pilot's seat on Blast Off's flight deck, and tensed.
It wasn't the artificial gravity or the stale air that made him uncomfortable. It was the whirling portal in front of them, coming closer and growing bigger in the shuttle's front window.
Vortex wasn't scared of space-jumps. Travelling through a space bridge was something he'd done often enough. But it was different if the space bridge was in actual space, and not a connection from one planet to another. It just felt off.
Blast Off had once made the effort to explain space portals to him, but Vortex hadn't quite understood, or got why they were called a different name simply because they weren't on-planet.
The shuttle around him shuddered, and caused Vortex's rotors to become almost painfully rigid.
The whirl in front of them was blue and yellow, mixing colours that looked weirdly synthetic.
When Blast Off entered, even Vortex sensed the pull. He focused on the shuttle's control console. Although he knew Blast Off hardly got any sort of body language, Vortex was certain the shuttle knew Vortex didn't like it.
The flickering colours in his peripheral vision passed at a constant speed.
It was only at the moment Blast Off noticeably slowed down that Vortex looked up.
This wasn't good.
Everything Blast Off did that wasn't routine was a bad thing. Vortex had learned that the hard way, and he knew it was better to let the shuttle do whatever needed to be done without questioning it.
But he still wanted to know what was going on. "What's wrong?"
Blast Off didn't need to reply; Vortex already saw what was out there.
Something in the pattern of steadily shifting chaotic colours moved.
Vortex rebooted his optics.
Blast Off's frame whined as metal tensed.
"What the frag is that?" Vortex asked, but didn't expect an answer.
Arms, or tendrils, something hardly describable with the words he knew dove into the tunnel, making it look like stones creating waves when thrown in liquid.
At first it was one, then two, then five in the upper left corner of Blast Off's front window. They were hardly visible, only noticeable when they distorted the colours, and then morphed. Half-transparent arms that split and mingled again and reached out to them.
Blast Off rolled, and the tentacles moved to the lower edge of the window.
"Hey, Thrusters," Vortex kicked the console. "What the frag is that?"
"Don't," Blast Off said over speakers, but it didn't sound annoyed, just focused. "Just don't."
Vortex didn't quite know what he shouldn't do, so he kept quiet.
The tentacles moved, but Vortex wasn't sure if 'tentacles' was the right word. They were amorphous, and seemed unreal, coming closer every astrosecond.
"Frag," Blast Off spat, speakers crackling, and Vortex was pressed into his seat. The shuttle accelerated further, the burn of thrusters noticeable even in the cockpit. Vortex clung to his seat.
Suddenly, one of the tendrils was next to them. It wavered close to Blast Off's side window, and Vortex was just about to warn the shuttle.
The words stuck in his vocaliser.
The tentacle entered the flight deck. It passed through Blast Off's cockpit wall like a white-grey shimmering mist, only solid.
Vortex jumped up.
Then it was gone.
"Frag. Frag! What is that?! Frag!" A sickening dread crawled from Vortex' tank up his back and into his rotors. "Blast Off, what the frag is that?" He wanted an answer, but all the shuttle's speakers uttered was a staticky whine.
Blast Off's erratic flight path was only visible if Vortex looked outside the window; the artificial gravity kept Vortex him in place. And as long as they didn't hit something solid, the 'copter wouldn't feel it. It was disconcerting, and his processor was hardly able to process the motion.
Another tendril passed through the flight deck, only inches from touching Vortex.
Blast Off's speakers crackled.
The tendril gave his processor something else to cope with. The motion sickness forgotten, panic took over.
Vortex stumbled back; his rotors hit the wall next to the door to the cargo hold.
"Sit down," Blast Off said. His tone wasn't reassuring, and Vortex completely ignored it. He opened the door, and stepped into the cargo area.
An abrupt movement made Vortex stagger, and then freeze. Another tentacle was in the cargo hold, going through the metal like it wasn't there.
"What the pit is that? Blast Off!" Vortex raised his arm. He needed to shoot that thing. He needed to get it away from them.
His gun charged.
"Don't shoot!" Now, Blast Off sounded panicky, too. "We're in space, you stupi~ argh-"
Another tentacle entered, and the ground jolted again. This time, Vortex almost fell. He could find purchase on the wall next to him before he sank to his knees.
"Go back to the flight deck!" the shuttle spat, but it was too late.
A tendril passed right through Vortex.
For that moment, time seemed to stop. He couldn't move, he couldn't think; a cold dread spread over every inch in his frame. He had the feeling of endless torture and pain, and it was nothing he appreciated. It was the thought of painful sensations that for once he didn't enjoy and were linked with despair and death.
The tentacle passed completely through, but the feeling remained. It made Vortex tense, and even thinking was difficult. He struggled to look up, but his optics couldn't even adjust before a strong force hit his side.
Vortex was flung against the cargo hold wall, it dented, a rotor bent, and Vortex crashed down.
Blast Off said something, but all Vortex could hear was the ringing of his audials, and the pained squeal from the speakers.
Vortex tried to get up. He almost succeeded, but what he saw in his blurry vision caused him to freeze once more. One of the tentacles spread, the thinner one slithering towards him in the air. He tried to move away, but behind him was the wall, and suddenly, next to him way too close, there was the thicker tendril.
Vortex didn't want to run through it. He didn't want to experience that again.
The thinner tendril wrapped around his arm before he could do anything. It pulled him away, and smashed him against the other wall.
Vortex landed on his front, and all he could do for the next few astroseconds was twitch. Even the solid touch felt wrong.
As soon as he got to all fours, Vortex almost sank down again as another jolt ran through Blast Off.
Vortex vented heavily, panic making it hard to keep his mind coherent. He couldn't shoot those things. He couldn't even grab them when they weren't consistently solid. Helplessness paralysed him, and he had to watch as the three tentacles became a single thick one.
He couldn't do anything as it hit the ceiling and made Blast Off's engine stutter.
He couldn't do anything when it crashed down again.
The ground shook, and then Blast Off screamed.
He couldn't do anything when the tentacle sliced the wall, tore the metal open and cut energon lines like slicing through wax. The pink liquid gushed out, and Blast Off's cry made Vortex' fuel pump stop.
Now he felt despair without the tendrils touching him.
They would die. The sudden realisation was so shocking, Vortex noticed too late a tentacle approaching him.
He jerked away, his head hit the wall, but from behind, through Blast Off's metal, another tendril wrapped around him, around his waist.
Time stopped anew, and as it started flowing again, it was so very slow.
Blast Off's engine gave a deep throbbing rev, the tendril moved to the rear end, and Vortex was dragged over the floor.
The tendril clung tight as Blast Off accelerated even more, and most of it was gone, was outside. Only the part wrapped around Vortex stayed inside, crushing the 'copter against the back wall.
Vortex' optics flickered when it was as though he would break in two. His rotor hub and mechanisms in his back creaked, and the metal on his waist bent.
Then it was gone.
It was dark. The lights in the cargo hold were out, and only the steady blink of a warning light shone through a window.
The shuttle soon passed it.
Vortex slumped.
A familiar moon appeared in one of the windows. Vortex couldn't remember when he'd been as happy as he was now to be back.
They didn't speak. Vortex didn't move.
He only tensed again when the rattling began and he was pressed against the rear end as Blast Off re-entered atmosphere. Drops of energon hit Vortex like a faint rain, and the plasma flames outside filled the room with a red glow. In the ruddy light, the torn metal and the spilling energon appeared like a sadistic piece of art. Vortex would have liked the view if he hadn't known it was Blast Off.
Vortex offlined his optics.
Despite Blast Off's anti-grav mechanism, the landing was quite bumpy. Vortex clung to the net on the cargo hold door, and was glad when he saw the hangar ceiling closing in on Blast Off's windows.
Vortex' grasp for support didn't help him when Blast Off initiated his transformation sequence.
There was no word of warning, but Vortex was already used to that by now. And right then, the 'copter wasn't even angry about it
He felt still weird, like his body didn't belong to him, and he could only imagine how Blast Off felt.
Ungracefully, Vortex landed when the floor beneath him vanished, parts folded together mechanometers away from him. Unlike Vortex, after the transformation Blast Off didn't land on his feet. The shuttle stumbled and went down to his knees before he sat on the concrete ground, holding his side.
Vortex hurried to him while trying not to make it look urgent. He'd seen the wound, and he could only guess how bad the damage was. It had to be pretty awful if Blast Off sat down in the middle of the landing area of all places.
Vortex reached the slumped Blast Off only moments before the staff member was at the runway. The puddle of energon on the ground spoke for itself, and Vortex didn't need to ask how the shuttle was.
"Excuse me?" the approaching femme asked.
Vortex and Blast Off looked up at.
It was another shuttle, blue-white frame with two pairs of wings at her back, and winglets on her wrists. After a quick assessment, Vortex knew she wasn't armed.
"What are you doing here? We didn't give you landing permission," she said sternly.
"Landing permission my aft, Vortex spat. "You see he's damaged. Who are you?" He didn't have the patience for that. He needed to bring Blast Off somewhere to be repaired.
"I'm Alnilam of Altihex, representative of Altihex' government. We don't need random shuttles landing wherever they want. This is an airport for on-planet air travel only. You better have a good reason for your behaviour."
Vortex' optics flickered. Now he realised that it didn't look like Altihex' spaceport. "Where the slag are we?" he wondered aloud.
It was Blast Off who answered. "Polyhex."
Vortex tensed.
Then Blast Off addressed the shuttle femme. "I'm Blast Off from HEX. It was an emergency re-entry, as you can see, I'm damaged. I got injured while travelling through a space portal."
Vortex was kind of amazed that Blast Off still kept his composure after that incident.
"We had an Encounter code nine nine four point alpha Q," he added, and the femme's optics widened in shock. She looked from Blast Off to Vortex and back.
"I see. Your documents seemed to have been lost; I'll take care of that issue immediately." She nodded towards Blast Off, then addressed Vortex. "Can you take care of him and bring him to a clinic? Alternatively I could call support, but this will require more paperwork and attesting how the injury happened." It didn't appear as though she was fond of the idea. And Blast Off apparently wasn't, either.
"No, we're fine," the shuttle replied before Vortex could. It wasn't that the 'copter would have been particularly eager to talk to other authorities, especially not if the possibility was pretty high they knew about his criminal background. He still wondered why neither Blast Off nor the femme wanted to talk about the incident.
Vortex shuddered again. The memories of the ghostly tendrils and surreal sensation overwhelmingly present.
Maybe he did understand.
His train of thought was interrupted by Blast Off groaning as he tried to come to his feet. Vortex stepped towards him, but stopped, not touching the shuttle yet.
"You want me to help?"
Blast Off nodded, but his engine revved. He didn't sound well. The femme's wings twitched. She looked at the tower; she was talking over comm.
"I have to go. Please hurry and leave the area, or I'll have no choice but to report you."
"Okay," Vortex took Blast Off's arm and laid it over his shoulders. "C'mon, Thrusters. I know a place where we can get repairs."
The femme shuttle smiled, and left with a quick wave of her hand.
Slowly, Vortex helped Blast Off to the arrival gate. The hangar was loud. Jet engines thrummed, people talked and grounders transported luggage and cargo. Not being in the middle of a large runway any longer, Vortex and Blast Off mingled with the workers.
Blast Off's energy field was drawn close, but Vortex still sensed the other's troubled state of mind.
"You're heavy," Vortex said with a grin, trying to lift the mood.
Blast Off huffed. "I'll get lighter soon. I'm losing energon"
Vortex couldn't hinder a soft snicker. "You give deadpan a whole new meaning."
Blast Off chuckled silently, only noticeably in the soft tremor of his frame.
Good, the shuttle didn't growl or snap at Vortex, even though his humour was probably merely to cover his discomfort.
"That way." Blast Off pointed with his unoccupied hand in a direction. "Let's take the back exit."
Vortex would have shrugged if Blast Off wasn't leaning on him. "Is there any airport on Cybertron you don't know?"
"You make it sound like it's a bad thing."
Vortex grinned. "Wow, you picked up on that?"
"Be careful, or I might hit you."
"And then what?" Vortex was joking just like Blast Off was. "You know I wouldn't mind. Not to mention you'd fall over if I dropped you. I have leverage over you."
Blast Off puffed air from his vents. "You're deluding yourself."
"Pah." Vortex playfully nudged Blast Off's side where it wasn't torn, and earned himself an engine rumble.
Crackdown lay on the sofa in the living room. The TV screen flickered in the dim light from the show she wasn't really interested in. She'd only agreed to watch it because Skycraze was eager to see what happened in that episode, but now the 'copter was in recharge. She was draped on her front over Crackdown, her arm dangling down and rotors shivering ever so slightly.
Crackdown smiled, absent-mindedly stroking her partner's back.
She would have liked to stay like that for a while longer, but the ping of the door made her wince in surprise.
It was already late, and Skycraze hadn't had any complicated jobs for some time, so it shouldn't be the police. Crackdown frowned.
The door pinged again, and she sighed.
Struggling to free herself without waking Skycraze, Crackdown stood up. Before she reached the door, it pinged again, and despite her calm and patient nature, it started to annoy her.
She pushed the 'open' button, ready to give the person on the other side a good talking-to. When the door slid aside, Crackdown stamped on her vocaliser.
She was greeted by the view of a grey heliformer covered in energon. For the first moment it was like looking at Skycraze's dead, grey frame, and she couldn't supress the shudder.
She forced herself to regain her composure. It was only Skycraze's colleague, Vortex. She ought to have recognised him from the start, they'd met more than once. And he wasn't dead, the red glowing visor clean on that.
"Evening," the 'copter said, appearing exhausted. Next to the smeared energon on his side, he was covered in what seemed energon drops from high velocity hits; they were so small.
"What-," Crackdown began, but stopped. "Well, hello, I guess. What do you want?"
"Skycraze owes me. I want to call in that favour."
Crackdown frowned. She remembered the incident when she'd been away and couldn't help Skycraze to clean up a mess. In the end Vortex had helped her, but for the price of a favour. It seemed that everything the grey 'copter did was for a price. Crackdown didn't like it.
"She's in recharge. What do you need?"
"Repairs and energon."
An engine gargled, and it wasn't Vortex'.
"Can we come in then?" the 'copter urged, but was already crossing the threshold.
Crackdown stepped aside. Skycraze would probably be relieved that the favour was called in, and the request didn't seem so bad. But still- "What do you mean, 'we'?"
"Excuse me," someone else said, his voice sophisticated but tired.
A large figure appeared in the doorframe, blocking out the light of the streetlamps. Black fingers wrapped around the side and upper edge of the frame as though for support.
"I apologise for his manners," the mech said as he ducked down to enter the apartment. "He has none."
Crackdown stared. She was already quite tall, for a grounder anyway. She towered over Skycraze and Vortex by a head, but this guy didn't even fit through the door.
"I'm Blast Off," he said with a nod, and leant next to the door. Crackdown knew the name. Skycraze had told her about him. Something about Vortex being with him only not, but she hadn't really cared.
She did care about what she was seeing now, though. His side was torn open, dried energon down his leg. It still wasn't the nicest of views. And with it came a cold shudder running down her back.
"You," she turned to Vortex who had just sat down on one of the chairs at the table, "go to the storage, it's the white door on the next floor down. Get the tool kit and spare lines."
"Huh?" was the surprised reply.
Crackdown revved her engine. She wasn't about to do all the work herself. "Move your aft, or I'll kick it all the way to Iacon."
Vortex jumped off the chair. "Okay, okay," he muttered, and staggered in the indicated direction. His rotors moved, only not. For a moment, he appeared blurry, and it wasn't because of Crackdown's optics. She rebooted them anyway.
The shuttle huffing made Crackdown turn to him, and she dismissed it as illusion.
"Don't use a threat like that. He'd probably like it. He's glitched."
"Tsk." Crackdown shook her head. "And you be quiet and sit down. You look like you're gonna faint any astrosecond." The shuttle wasn't grey, but there was a pale shimmer on his plating that wasn't paint or dust.
Blast Off puffed air from his vents again, but didn't reply. He only slid down the wall, his hand pressed to his side.
With an exaggerated sigh, Crackdown got to the cabinet, and took out cleanser and energon. In the background she heard the shuttle taking off the damaged plates. He hissed.
When she returned to him, she saw his sluggish movements. It was obvious that he had lost a lot energon already, and so the first thing she did was hand him a cube.
"Drink that."
He took the energon with a brief nod. Their fingers touched, and his energy field was oddly cold.
"I'll have to clean out the damage," she added, distracting herself from the feeling that something was off. "It might burn a little, because we don't have medical cleanser in the house. Can you move your arm away?" She was about to get down, but froze mid-movement.
"I'll do that!" Vortex insisted, reappearing. He stood still in the doorway, and his tone made it sound like Crackdown didn't ought to argue with him. She shrugged. She wouldn't be upset not having to feel that energy signature again.
"Are you okay with that?" she asked the shuttle who had his optics offline.
"I don't care." Blast Off's shoulders twitched. "I'm not really with it anyway."
"If you drank that energon, you'd already feel better." At least that was what she hopped. She stepped aside to make room for Vortex to crouch next to Blast Off. He put down the tools and spare parts with a loud clatter.
Crackdown glanced at the couch; any more of that and they'd wake Skycraze.
"Why're you on the floor?" the 'copter asked as he started working on the shuttle's side.
The shuttle didn't answer, he just drank from the cube, but his engine revved. It made Vortex giggle.
Crackdown sighed, and went to the cabinet again. She contemplated carrying Skycraze to their room before she woke up, but a familiar stutter of vents told Crackdown that it was already too late.
An arm emerged from behind the back rest to pull herself up, followed by a sleepy helm. "Wassup?"
"Just stay there, everything's under control," Crackdown said. She leant against the table with her own cube of energon, glancing sideways at Vortex and the shuttle now and then.
"Huh…" Skycraze put her chin on the back rest. "What are they doing here? Why are they sitting on the floor?"
"They're calling in your favour." Crackdown answered for Vortex, who seemed busy tinkering in Blast Off's innards. There was a pile of used clothes next to them, coloured pink from the energon.
With a groan, Skycraze stood up, and drowsily lurched towards Crackdown. Her partner opened her arms to let Skycraze lean onto and hug her. "I'm cold," the 'copter said, her rotors wilted as he snuggled closer. She shouldn't be; the room was warm.
Crackdown smiled.
/Why didn't you wake me up?/ Skycraze commed her.
/They only asked for repairs and energon. But seeing the shuttle, I guess they'll also need a place to stay for the night. Vortex called in the favour you owed him./ Crackdown went back to stroking Skycraze's back idly.
/Hrmm,/ It was a mutter over the comm that made Crackdown grin. /And they need a shower, too. I don't wanna have to clean the guest berth because of them./
/Heh, don't pretend to be grumpy. I know you like Vortex. You'd have offered him a berth and shower anyway./ Flaring her field faintly, Crackdown pinched a tip of a rotor blade. It was reassuring.
/Maybe. But it's even better if I'm not in his debt any longer. We can just make him believe he's unwelcome, or he might not leave again./
Vortex and Blast Off muttered something that Crackdown couldn't understand, but the shuttle's engine revved to a growl.
"You know I need to do that. C'mon, it's only one more line," the grey 'copter uttered, annoyed, and got an equally annoyed reply.
"Most of the damage is repaired," the shuttle argued. "It was already better when I transformed. And why do you bother now? If I transform again, it'll be ripped open anyway."
"Frag you and your mass shifting-"
"You only want to touch me."
"Aren't they adorable," Skycraze interrupted their argument, and caused both mechs to look up. "Why didn't you go to an emergency clinic anyway?"
"I'm asking that myself," the shuttle grumbled. "It couldn't have been more embarrassing than sitting in a stranger's apartment on the floor."
"We're not strangers," Skycraze insisted. Crackdown decided to be the voice of reason.
"You do know that the emergency clinics don't treat non-Polyhexian. Or if they do, they wait there for joors." Crackdown didn't like the policy of the EMs, but they had their reasons. Most of the work done in Polyhex was physically challenging, so they used their limited supplies for the city's inhabitants. "And look at him," she continued. "He's an alpha. They'd have probably ignored him - in the most positive outcome."
"Hehe," Vortex laughed. "It's slag being an alpha in a working class city, isn't it?"
Blast Off's optics brightened. "It's slag being a planet bound trapped in space only protected by a sentient vessel, isn't it? I'll remember your words next time we're off planet."
Vortex' rotors froze.
Crackdown frowned, and Skycraze tilted her head. There was more to that argument, but Crackdown decided not to dig deeper. Unfortunately, she was too slow to ask Skycraze to leave the issue alone as well.
"So, what happened to you two anyway? You bring a laser scalpel to a gunfight?"
"I have guns on my feet. It's hard to lose or forget them," Blast Off countered.
"You know how I am with laser scalpels," Vortex replied, smugly, but it wasn't hard to see they were trying to change the subject.
"Then how did you get damaged?"
/Let them be,/ Crackdown reprimanded her partner, but she was skilfully ignored.
"You're gonna tell us, or what? You're drinking our energon. And maybe we'll let you use the washracks and recharge in the guest room."
Vortex settled down opposite Blast Off, avoiding looking up at Skycraze and Crackdown. Blast Off was busy welding the gap in his plating.
"We were attacked in space," the shuttle said.
"Oh!" Skycraze perked up, and loosened the embrace around Crackdown. "By monsters?"
Crackdown saw the two mechs exchanging looks.
"No," it was Blast Off again. "Space is a dangerous place even without monsters."
"Oh." Crackdown knew Skycraze was disappointed, but she couldn't help but think that the shuttle might not have been telling the truth. She didn't voice her suspicion. She was a grounder, with a grounder mind. She didn't need to know about what they had encountered, what made them appear wrong for some reason.
"Can you get up now?" Vortex asked when he himself got to his feet.
The shuttle nodded, and used the wall for support. The gap in the metal wasn't completely sealed, but at least the cables weren't visible any longer.
"The washracks are down the corridor the last door on the left. The guest room is right opposite it." Crackdown pointed at the door. "We'll put you some more energon in the room."
Vortex was already by the door. Blast Off nodded. He pushed himself off the wall, and staggered. Grabbing the table for purchase, it trembled under the weight.
The shuttle's energy field flared in surprise and this cold underlying frequency that Crackdown couldn't place.
"Sorry," the shuttle muttered, straightening himself, before he limped towards Vortex.
"You need more help?" the 'copter asked, grinning, and the last thing they saw before the door closed was Blast Off trying to hit Vortex.
Skycraze's field flared. "Blast Off was lying." She looked up, meeting Crackdown's optics.
"I think so, too."
"And there's something not right with them. They look… weird."
Crackdown tensed. "When I first saw him I thought Vortex was you only dead."
Skycraze grimaced. "Wow, that's creepy."
Venting deep, Crackdown shrugged. "Let's try to forget it and get them some energon." The grounder hoped that whatever unworldly had hit them would leave the two mechs again soon.