All that was stated in Part One, remains true in Part two.
See the end of the chapter for time notes.
"You aren't modding it, are you? If you aren't, you aren't, just say so and I'll believe you, but that design does seem more rounded than before and I really do like the square, classic lines, so I think-"
Sunstreaker turned away from the holographic display to stare at Bluestreak.
"-haha, don't listen to me, I'm sure it's fine, I'll trust you to do whatever you think is best, since you're the expert in this situation and I've always-"
"Stop," Sunstreaker said, with that particular pained expression that always made him seem more baffled than angry. As if Bluestreak were some strange creature he couldn't begin to make sense of.
Bluestreaker's vocalizer squeaked at being turned off mid-word. He gave several frantic nods and returned to the nanite colonies he'd been tending.
Sunstreaker had dozens he used for his work, all in various stages of stasis, reproductive expansion, and population maintenance, depending on how soon he was going to need them. Their primary purpose was cosmetic repair and modification; a robust colony could remove the appearance of weld lines, fill in scars and abrasions, reinforce weak spots and dig out networks of capillaries and sensor connectors in new or reforged plating. All while said plating was removed from the mech themselves, so as not to interfere with the behavior of their native nanites.
He checked the display on the tank in front of him, then added in the requisite amount of ore nuggets and metal shavings.
"Here you go, a nice tasty treat," he said.
The colony appeared as little more than a layer of thick, silver liquid spread out on the bottom of the plexiglass tank. It shifted in reaction to the nuggets, first retreating and then swarming back to swallow the pieces, forming a lumpy silver ball around them.
A strange sort of bittersweet nostalgia rose in Bluestreak. When he was in his early development phases, his patrons had kept a giant nanite colony on display in the main lobby of their office building. Part living sculpture and part fountain, Buestreak used to press his palms against the crystal walls of the enclosure and watch the seething, multi-colored mass spin and stretch and twist into fantasy cityscape's that reached high over his head. That colony was long gone now.
He banished the memory files before he could get lost in them. He was in too good a mood to deal with the past right then; he was clean inside and out the first time in a rotation, his plan was better than ever with Sideswipe's input, and before too long, he was going to have revitalized plating and a new, proper paint job.
That thought had his attention drifting back to the design Sunstreaker was working on. A scaled down holographic replica of Bluestreak's robot mode and vehicle mode stood before him, already changed from dingy white to a dark gray with medium gray helm, forearms, and back-mounted sensor panels, and black hips. Not to mention a noticeably sleeker cabin on the alt mode. As Bluestreak watched, Sunstreaker touched the color palette that hovered at his elbow and added bright red to the hologram's thighs.
Bluestreak automatically started to protest. Red was already an attention getting color and being set against a conservative gray only made it more so. He checked the words before his vocalizer could produce them and resolutely focused on the nanite tank. Sunstreaker was doing this completely for free as a gift to him, after all, and he shouldn't complain.
Well, not that he had any leverage to complain with, considering Sunstreaker had stripped him of his plating and outfitted him with a temporary set the nanoklik he and Sideswipe returned from the auto-wash. Technically, he could return Bluestreak's shell in any condition he wished.
Maybe Bluestreak shouldn't think about that too much.
"Lets get you back into your dock before you run out of energy," he said to the unresponsive colony. He returned the tank to its wall mount and went on to the next.
A message was waiting in his inbox when he came out of recharge.
Actually, several messages were waiting, not the least of which was one from the City Protection Forces, and Bluestreak would bet anything that the report of his last public incident had them wanting him to come in for another evaluation.
The only one that caught his attention, though, was for the Vosian contract bonding ad from a mech called Thundercracker.
A little fission of nervous excitement went through Bluestreak's circuits. This would be only the second reply he'd gotten since answering the ads three orn ago.
The first respondent, who hailed from a high end district in Uraya, had immediately started out trying to negotiate a cheaper advance payment - something Sideswipe said Bluestreak should have planned for and declared him a "lost cause" when he admitted to asking for the exact funds he needed up front. The contractual obligations weren't unreasonable, amounting mostly to "keep me company during parties" and "read this literature so we can talk about it together", but it seemed like the mech couldn't afford more than half Bluestreak's asking price. He really didn't want to have to sell himself for that little. Hopefully this Thundercracker mech would have better terms.
Bluestreak left the message unprocessed for the moment and began extracting himself from between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Since they'd gone straight into recharge without untangling themselves, this required a lot pushing off of limbs and careful disconnecting of cables without pulling. Sunstreaker's automated proximity sensors pinged at him in reaction to the handling, but neither mech powered up. Finally free, he scooted to the edge of the charging dock platform and stood. Once out of the dock's induction field, his systems switched over from city power to internal power with the usual internal shiver.
His first stop was the maintenance station in the corner of the apartment. It was a square section of sunken floor equipped with a drain, a counter, a deep sink, and several floor length mirrors set at angles to each other.
Those mirrors showed a customized Class A5 Praxian model in shades of gray and silver with optic-catching splashes of red on thighs, upper arms, and the chevron on his forehead. The 'customized' part came in the shape of his armor; standard A5s were angular in the chest, legs, and back, leading toward boxy. Sunstreaker had softened the lines of his shell, making them curve inward instead of pointing out, not drastically so, but enough to give a sleek appearance in place of his former squarish bulk. More akin to a Class 70H, only without the doubled sensor panels.
"It suits you better," Sunstreaker had said in that way that dared Bluestreak to tell him otherwise.
Bluestreak had been to surprised find himself agreeing. Still, it was strange at first, seeing his altered appearance reflected back at him. Like all mechs, he'd cultivated a personal 'look' over the vorn of his life. Paint jobs changed in color, but followed the same theme, little decorations became signature elements, helms gained unique attachments. All of Bluestreak's individual elements had been lost in the frame overhaul, but he'd always imagined he'd get them back the nanoklik he could afford to.
Now, staring into the mirrors, Bluestreak realized he was relieved that he didn't look like his old self again.
Maybe it's better if that 'me' just doesn't exist anymore.
He shook off the cynical thought and began the painstaking process of checking himself over for the slightest dent, scuff, scratch, or stain.
One of the downsides, he'd discovered, of getting a free paint job from Sunstreaker was that he took the same proprietary interest in it as he did in his own paint job. Which meant no, Bluestreak couldn't wait and let his self-repairs tend to any minor damage, he had to fix it now or else Sunstreaker was going to sit him down and do it for him. Sunstreaker didn't seem to mind this anymore than he seemed to mind anything, but Sideswipe protested long and loud at Sunstreaker doubling his already lengthy self-maintenance routine by tending to Bluestreak too. In the spirit of avoiding fights, Bluestreak decided it was easier to put in the extra effort of keeping himself up.
It took all of a breem to wipe out the marks of the previous orn and then another to check his filters and fluid levels and the looseness of his joints. That done, he took a full ventilation cycle to brace himself and opened the message from Thundercracker.
The initial part of the message was a long, formal greeting. Very long and very formal; followed by an equally long and formal 'thank you' for submitting his resume. It was kind of... grandiose. Overblown. It made Bluestreak think of those comedy stage shows where "nobles" made extravagant speeches about minor events and covered themselves in nets of LEDs, so that every other character acted like they were being blinded whenever the noble was on stage.
That image had Bluestreak giggling before he was half-way through. Really, this mech made it sound like they were negotiating a high-stakes business transaction, not a contract bonding. All at once, the entire process didn't seem quite so awful and frightening.
The actual contract terms and monetary offer were downright concise compared to the opening. Thundercracker was offering 10% less on the advance fee, and about 30% less on the living allowance. Not the amount Bluestreak needed, but considerably more than the Uraya mech. Bluestreak would be granted a private room, computer terminal, and charging dock with energy allotment, which would not come out of the allowance, but he would have to provide for his own furnishings, entertainment, upgrades, and regular maintenance. As a bond partner, he would be covered under Thundercracker's insurance for emergency repairs. He would have two free shifts out of every orn and four non-consecutive orn off every rotation.
In exchange, he would be required to provide Thundercracker with accompaniment to any social event, meeting, or show Thundercracker chose to attend, even if it required rescheduling his free time. He would have to maintain proper etiquette and abide Thundercracker's requests throughout the duration of said events, and/or attend training on how to do so as ordered. Social charm and wit would be a bonus, but not necessary. When not attending events, he would be assigned administrative and household chores, including the tracking and updating of Thundercracker's personal appointments.
The details went on. It was... a great deal more impersonal than the one from the Uraya mech. That contract had obviously been the product of a profoundly lonely individual. This sounded more like scouting for a personal assistant. A positive from Bluestreak's perspective, but it didn't seem worth going through the cost and hassle of a contract bonding for.
He analyzed the contract terms twice more, trying to read between the lines like Sideswipe was teaching him to. When that yielded nothing suspicious, he examined the included pictures and bio.
Thundercracker had been creche raised - Vos, unlike Praxus and many other city-states, scorned the patronage system - and joined the air defense forces as soon as he passed his proficiency exams. He swiftly achieved officer rank and was eventually granted a government position by his commander. This was common in Vos, where they favored military leaders over civilian or publicly appointed ones. The bio went on further regarding Thundercracker's rank in relation to his commander and another mech that was apart of his unit, but exactly how all that translated into Praxian terms, Bluestreak had no idea. Thundercracker had an exemplary service record, a fondness for classical music and a type of dance Bluestreak didn't recognize, preferred solitude to large crowds, and historical documents to fictional literature or stage shows. It was essentially the same information as the original ad.
The pictures showed a blue and pale gray seeker model with a tetra jet altmode. All the images had the stiffness of posed shots and Thundercracker wore the same stern, closed-off expression in each one. He didn't look at all nice or friendly, but then again, neither did Sunstreaker, and he could be really kind and considerate when you gave him the chance and didn't take anything he said personally. Maybe this Thundercracker didn't like getting his picture taken.
He was an attractive mech, for all his apparent grumpiness. He had strong, clean-cut features that went nicely with his helm shape and kept himself well maintained. His frame wasn't quite to Bluestreak's tastes, being a little long in the torso, but his back-mounted wings added a broadness to the chest and shoulders that Bluestreak's Praxian sensibilities approved of. It didn't matter, in the long road, whether or not Bluestreak enjoyed looking at his future partner, but it certainly wouldn't hurt.
Bluestreak wandered from the maintenance station to the one exterior wall while he processed the message. A remote command made a section of the wall transparent, letting him watch the flow of traffic outside. There was a narrow walkway and below and beyond that, a plaza where merchants who couldn't afford permanent shops set up temporary stalls. A freeway arched overhead, casting its broad shadow on the bustling crowd. It was the first Sun Season of the vorn and what light made it past the freeway flashed off bright chrome and multi-hued armor. The cheery merchant banners billowed and waved lazily in the wind channeled through the turbines up the street.
It was Praxus, living and moving and beautiful. It was home and he was going to miss it.
It took another joor for Sideswipe to power up out of recharge. Bluestreak kept himself occupied - and quiet - during that time by answering the rest of his mail and voice-chatting with a friend. He made plans to stay over with this friend if he wasn't already moving in with his new partner by end of the megacycle.
"Well, this Thundercracker goes on forever about nothing as much as you do," Sideswipe said, "It's a perfect match."
"I don't go on forever about nothing! That's mean," Bluestreak said.
"And hypocritical," Sunstreaker added from the maintenance station.
Sideswipe ignored both of them, his attention split between the datapad of financial records in his hands and the copy of Thundercracker's message in his processor. Bluestreak wondered which one was making him frown so hard.
After another klik of silent scrolling on the pad, Sideswipe opened his vents in a deep sigh.
"Sunstreaker," he called over to his partner, "I need you to come check this. No, now, it's important. Put down the rag. Bluestreak," he continued, "Vos is a bad idea. Vosians are insular and elitist, and it's all about who you know or who you can pay off. I don't want to think about what would happen if you got into any kind of legal trouble over there. But... this a good offer. I've done research for comparison and it's highly unlikely you're going to get a better one."
Sunstreaker stomped over while Sideswipe talked and snatched the datapad out of his hand. Sideswipe held up both hands in a pacifying gesture.
"I want to accept it," Bluestreak said, "I like the sound of it, especially the contract terms because it sounds like I'd actually have something to do and Vos is pretty close to Praxus, so visiting will be easier. I know you're worried and I understand why, but I know how to be careful. It's not like I'm going to be breaking any laws anyway."
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker paused at that and a comm chat flashed between them. Something about their expressions gave Bluestreak the irritated feeling that they thought he was being naive again. The feeling only increased when Sunstreaker snorted and turned his attention to the datapad in dismissal.
"If only everything worked that way," Sideswipe said out loud, clearly echoing Sunstreaker's unspoken sentiment.
"But," he added in response to Bluestreak's attempted protest, "It's still your decision. Don't accept right away; send back a counter-offer asking for a 10% increase on the allowance and removal of the termination stipulation that makes you responsible for all legal fees. You won't get the latter, but you will get some extra on the former."
He tapped down on his annoyance. In the end, Sideswipe had been a big help to him when he didn't need to be and Bluestreak was grateful. "I will. Thank you."
It didn't take long for him to make changes to the response he'd drafted up earlier and, after another nervous review for errors, send it to Thundercracker. Now it was back to waiting and with no chores to do in the shop for the time being, Bluestreak re-read one of his favorite fictional documents and half-listened to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's conversation on the other side of the apartment.
"He'll want to discuss this in person," Sunstreaker said and gestured with the datapad, "I'm not going. I can't stand that slagger."
"I wasn't going to send you," Sideswipe said in a low voice, "But I was hoping to put off going until after -" He dropped into an encrypted comm line.
"Don't be stupid, that's too long. Just reschedule your appointments. I'll use the time to finish my backlog and keep myself from throwing Bluestreak in the smelter."
"Hey!" Bluestreak said laughingly, since they knew he was ease-dropping.
"He's bluffing, he wouldn't destroy a paint job he did," Sideswipe said.
"That's why I'd take the armor off first," Sunstreaker said, a rare glint of humor in the curve of his mouth.
A warm feeling rose in Bluestreak. It was nice when Sunstreaker accepted his presence enough to include him in the teasing. He began to formulate a reply - only to freeze at the message that popped up in his inbox. Already?
"Blue?" Sideswipe asked as the pause lengthened.
"Thundercracker replied." Excitement and unease chased themselves through his processor. "He approved the counteroffer and wants to do a live interview."
Six joor later found Bluestreak in Sideswipe's cramped little office. The computer terminal stood in the center of the room; a narrow table bisected by a glass screen in a thin silver frame. An antiquated design, but attractive in it's clean lines. Sideswipe had already started up the video conference software, patched into the terminal, and retreated to finish preparing for his own upcoming trip. He was going to be remotely monitoring the interview, an offer that, Bluestreak suspected, came as much from curiosity as helpfulness.
This was it. If the interview went well, he'd soon be on his way to a new home.
Bluestreak gave himself a good, armor rattling shake to settle his nerves, and approached the computer. A quick hand gesture brought the software out of standby and allowed him to enter the comm channel he'd been given. A connection alert bearing the insignia of Vos popped up, requesting his personal ID for verification before the call could be completed. The screen cleared for a nanoklik after the data was transmitted, giving Bluestreak a flash of the painting mounted on the opposite wall, then smoothly transitioned into a live video feed.
A seeker stood against the sprawling backdrop of a foreign cityscape with hands braced on his hips and head lifted in a haughty expression. His build was nearly identical to Thundercracker's, with a paint job of red, white, and bright blue in place of more muted blues and grays, but the real difference was attitude. There was nothing of the stiff postured, stern-faced Thundercracker in this mech's cocky stance or intent stare.
"Oh, ah, hi," Bluestreak said, caught off-guard at being faced with a stranger instead of Thundercracker, "I have an appointment with -"
"I am Starscream, Vos Air Marshal and Arial Defense Force adviser to Emirate Race Wing, and direct superior to Wing Commander Thundercracker," the seeker said. He had a high, raspy voice, and something about his wording made Bluestreak think of the overwrought intro to Thundercracker's first message. "I will be conducting the initial part of this interview on my subordinate's behalf."
The excessive formality jolted Bluestreak out of his surprise, but he grasped onto it almost without thinking. He could do formality. It was familiar and easy.
Bluestreak spread out his sensor panels and aligned his body into the appropriate welcoming stance. "Well met, Air Marshal. I am Bluestreak, Praxus Citizen Fifth Tier, Rank Ceta. I look forward to a productive meeting. Do you wish to begin?"
"You're unemployed, correct?" Starscream asked without answering the question.
"That - that's correct," Bluestreak said, a little confused at the choice of opening. Starscream should know this already, unless Thundercracker didn't share Bluestreak's bio with him. "As stated in my application."
"Then what are you doing for resources?" Starscream's tone was almost accusatory.
Bluestreak barely kept himself from jerking back at the unexpected rudeness. Did he want to make sure Bluestreak wasn't stealing to survive or something?
"Friends of mine are giving me energy and a place to stay in exchange for helping out with their business."
"So they'll put you up and give you work, but they won't hire you?"
"Excuse me, I don't see how that is relevant to the interview topic." Bluestreak felt his sensor panels folding back defensively and made an effort to straighten them.
"Oh, come now," Starscream said, waving his hand, "Naturally, I don't want my subordinate bonded to someone who is so lazy, incompetent, or emotionally unstable that even his own friends won't employee him. It is a reasonable concern."
Put that way, Bluestreak was torn between agreeing that yes, it was reasonable, and getting even more offended. He'd included references with the application packet specifically to address those sorts of concerns; it was Thundercracker and Starscream's responsibility to utilize said references if they had doubts. Still, the question did have an answer and it wouldn't hurt to share it.
"It's a small business," he said, "They can't support a third employee." At least not at the salary he would need to earn. Sunstreaker didn't strictly want another mech 'taking up space' in his workshop, either, but he had admitted once or twice that if they did ever need a third, Bluestreak was the only one of Sideswipe's friends he would tolerate in the position. ("As long as I don't have to live with him, too," Sunstreaker had been quick to clarify.)
"Ah, is that it?" Starscream titled his head and tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. His optics were narrowed and focused. It was all Bluestreak could do to not squirm uncomfortably, like the underside of his plating was covered in grit. "You mean it has nothing to do with that persistent software malfunction of yours?"
::That aft is trying to catch you in a lie,:: Sideswipe said over commlink.
Bluestreak had just figured that out himself. He sent Sideswipe an agreement and said out loud, "No. I mean, the malfunction causes problems, but they'd be willing to work around the difficulties." Bluestreak couldn't stop himself from adding, "And my friends aren't native Praxian, so it's different for them."
::So hey, remember what I said about Vosians being insular and elitist?::
::But it's true and it's not like I hold it against you or anything!::
Starscream snapped his fingers, as if an idea had just occurred to him.
"That reminds me," he said, "I was given to understand that the Praxian method of citizenship ranking was based on work performance, moral standing, and service to the community and state. How does one become desperate enough to apply for a contract bonding while maintaining any manner of a Fifth Tier ranking?"
Despite the derogatory wording, Starscream's tone was nothing but sincere, polite interest. Bluestreak honestly couldn't tell if he was being genuine or not. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of the last time he'd attended a social event for upper tier citizens after his patrons' deaths. He used to love such events; the opportunity to meet and speak with those powerful citizens who cared for and shaped Praxus; the knowledge that he was, even in a lesser way, one of them. But going had after the accident had been a mistake. Far too many mechs making a point of coming over to ask probing, insinuating questions in voices oily sweet with pity and concern. His official ranking aside, he just wasn't comfortable in that world right now.
Unfortunately, even if Starscream was trying to get a rise out of Bluestreak, there wasn't much he could do but keep his cool. If he acted out, Starscream would discourage Thundercracker from bonding with him, for one, and for another, there was still the chance that Starscream was innocently curious as he sounded. Some people just weren't good at socializing.
"My ranking was locked while I was in recovery from an accident," Bluestreak said, "After that, the ranking committee concluded it wasn't my fault that the resulting software malfunction made it difficult for me to take up my previous responsibilities. So my rank remains static until the malfunction is repaired." Or he deteriorated into insanity and was committed, one of the two.
"Hm. And is it repairable?"
"I - I don't know."
Surprise softened Starscream's haughty expression. For the first time, Bluestreak noticed he had a nice face. Definitely of a similar mold to Thundercracker's, but somewhat narrower in the jaw and further apart in the optics.
"Not for certain, though the state medic who evaluated me seemed positive," Bluestreak explained compulsively, "But I haven't been able to afford the services of a medic-programmer, 'cause I inherited a lot of debt from my patrons' failed business and that plus the repair costs from the accident have been so much even selling everything wasn't enough to cover everything, so it's just been all I could do to keep up on my living expenses, but I -"
::You're babbling.::
Bluestreak disabled his vocalizer. A warning that his hydraulics were losing pressure popped in his HUD. He quickly rebooted the monitoring program and was relieved when it returned an 'operation normal' this time.
Starscream looked downright sardonic. "How fascinating," he drawled and there was nothing remotely pleasant about his tone or words this time, "Tell me, how is it that you're such a valuable community resource that you get a special status for it, and yet there's no spare state funds to make you useful again?"
Confusion made Bluestreak frown. "It's not the responsibility of Praxus to pay for my repairs."
Starscream made a disgusted noise. Anger and protest rose in Bluestreak and he struggled with the urge to defend his city. He really couldn't expect a Vosian to appreciate the Praxian values of self-reliance and responsibility.
"Regardless, I've heard all I've needed to," Starscream said, "I'm passing my impressions of our meeting on to Thundercracker. They are positive, you should be pleased to hear."
Starscream paused pointedly. It took a nanoklik for Bluestreak's processor to catch up.
"Uh, thank you," Bluestreak said.
Annoyance flickered across Starscream's face and Bluestreak got the feeling that wasn't the response he'd been expecting. "I'll inform Thundercracker that you're ready to speak to him."
He made a hand gesture Bluestreak recognized as a computer command. The screen switched over to a "Please hold" graphic.
::Do me a favor,:: Sideswipe said, ::Punch that mech when you get to Vos.::
::I'm not going to punch anyone!::
::In the faceplates, Blue.::
Bluestreak ignored him in favor of regaining his composure. He had to concentrate to recall the list of possible questions he'd thought up to ask Thundercracker and to get his frame and sensor panels to relax into a less tense posture. The strange, abrupt conversation had been unexpectedly rattling. Bluestreak really hoped that he would be able to avoid Starscream after bonding to Thundercracker and instantly felt bad about it. The two were probably very close. Why else would Starscream want to interview someone Thundercracker was considering a bond with?
The graphic on the computer screen flashed to alert him it was being taken off hold. This time, when the video feed faded in, it was Thundercracker who looked back at him.
Or rather, frowned moodily at him in near perfect replication of the biography photos.
"Bluestreak," Thundercracker said with a nod of acknowledgement. Unlike Starscream's high rasp, Thundercracker had a deep, rumbling voice that vibrated against Bluestreak's plating even through the speakers. He shivered in surprise.
"Thundercracker, hi." A giddy rush of relief and nerves went through him when Thundercracker didn't do more than nod again in response to the greeting. He hurried on to avoid any awkward silence. "It's nice to meet you at last! Thank you so much for reviewing my application and I'm glad I'm a match for what you're looking for."
Thundercracker grunted. "Your application had all the information I needed. You got any questions?"
"Oh, yes! I have several," Bluestreak said, "Well, I guess to start, I should ask what kind of accommodations you live in and if it's private or shared or what. Your bio said that you were part of a unit, but it didn't mention if you cohabitate with them."
"I don't," Thundercracker said, "I got a place granted me as part of my adviser position."
"So you live alone?"
Thundercracker hesitated. It was only a nanoklik, but that was long enough for Bluestreak to start up again. "I mean, I'm really good at sharing and getting along with most anyone, so it's not a problem if I'm going to be living with a bunch of other mechs and I know I'm getting my own personal room besides. I just thought it would be good to know, in case any of them need to have their space or if I'm supposed to be doing chores for them too."
Thundercracker opened his mouth.
Bluestreak didn't even pause. "I don't mind, by the way, having do to the same sort of administrative and escort work as mentioned in the contract for the rest of your household, but I do want to make sure if that's what's expected of me so we can work out it and especially make sure we all have our space and everything."
Thundercracker was staring at him and Sideswipe was sending him warning pings, but it was no good. The combo of relief that this mech was much less unsettling than Starscream and the worry that he was going to give a bad impression had both loosened and sped up his vocalizer.
"I live alone," Thundercracker said finally, interrupting a reiteration that Bluestreak really was good at getting along with other mechs, really.
"- Oh! Then I guess all the rest isn't a concern then, unless you have guests over, but that's different and I'm sure we'll work out arrangements beforehand and -"
"That it? That all you wanted to know?" Thundercracker broke in again.
Bluestreak's processor skipped threads without missing a beat. "No, I have several questions like I said and the next one is what exactly will my duties entitle? Mainly the part about the administrative and household chores, because the contract made it sound pretty broad. Not that you'd have to go into specifics now, but - "
He kept going, finding new points that he wanted to clarify to make sure Thundercracker didn't misunderstand him. But from Thundercracker's expression, he may as well have been speaking another language. Bluestreak wasn't sure if it was because he was explaining himself too much or not enough. He focused and managed to rein in his wandering monologue.
"Well, anyway, that's what I wanted to know."
Silence.
Confusion drifted slowly across Thundercracker's expression. He made a motion to talk, stopped, and scowled at Bluestreak suspiciously.
Bluestreak nearly shorted out his vocalizer holding back the stream of reiterations and reassurances that wanted to come out. A distraction arrived in the form of Sunstreaker patching into his and Sideswipe's commlink.
::What the slag is going on in there? Sideswipe is acting like a complete idiot.::
::Oh Primus help me, his face,:: Sideswipe said, the words nearly indistinct with laughter.
That was not a good sign.
"You'll be recording meetings," Thundercracker said. He spoke warily, as if expecting Bluestreak to suddenly start screaming and attacking the screen. "Getting those recording verified, noted, and archived. Receiving packages. Tracking my appointments. Not leaving your mess all over. That's all."
"Great, that'll be no problem for me at all," Bluestreak said, nodding eagerly. He wanted to ask his next question without any unnecessary chatter or rambling, truly he did. Thundercracker seemed like a decent enough mech; he didn't need Bluestreak going off about nothing.
But every micron of his armor felt hyper charged with nervous energy, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were getting into a fight over the comms, and Thundercracker... Thundercracker looked somewhere between annoyed and resigned. The battle was lost before it even started.
Bluestreak managed to get two more questions answered in the several breem that followed; one about leaving Vos for vacations ("not for the first vorn") and another about having guests over ("for short visits, yes. For longer than two shifts, no. I don't like company."). The rest of the time was taken up by his talking. He kept expecting Thundercracker to interrupt again or tell him to be quiet, but the other mech just stood there and stared. After a while, he folded his arms across his chest, leaned back on his heels, and gave every impression of intending to stand there and stare all orn. Occasionally he would glance somewhere off camera, make a vague gesture at the screen, and shrug, but that was it.
When an interruption finally did come, it was from an unexpected source.
"Enough!" Starscream's all-too-distinctive voice lashed through the speakers, stopping Bluestreak mid-sentence and causing both him and Thundercracker to jump.
"You have more important business to attend to than listening to anymore of this chattering," Starscream continued, though the mech himself didn't appear on screen. Bluestreak was horrified to realize Starscream had to have been watching and listening the entire time.
"I don't know, Starscream," Thundercracker said slowly, the faintest hint of a smirk about his mouth, "I think he's got more to say."
A giggle escaped Bluestreak before he could help it. Thundercracker looked over at him and their optics met in a brief flash of mutual understanding before the seeker's closed-off frown reinstated itself. For the first time, hope that maybe this would work out after all flared to life in Bluestreak's spark.
An inarticulate sound came from Starscream's direction. Thundercracker straightened, his frame taking on all the stiff formality of a Protection Unit at full attention.
"Thank you for your time, Bluestreak," he intoned. His voice had dropped another octave, making the speakers thrum with effort. "I'll send over the documentation to complete our bonding contract shortly. If you're still willing to go ahead."
Frankly, Bluestreak was surprised that Thundercracker still wanted to bond with him. The hope flared brighter. "Yes! Yes, I am. I'll look forward to it."
Thundercracker grimaced. "Right. Send me any other questions you got then. Thundercracker out."
Bluestreak managed to get out a quick "Goodbye" before the call terminated.
Not much for parting words, these seekers.
The program stand-by icon flashed at him twice before the screen cleared. Bluestreak looked at the painting on the far wall without really seeing it as the final bit of his frantic energy drained away. He cycled air through his systems and released it a long, hard vent.
::Well,:: he said to the silence in the commlink, ::What do you think of Thundercracker?::
::Masochist,:: Sunstreaker said.
::Desperate,:: Sideswipe said.
::Hiding something,:: Sunstreaker added.
::Boss is a slagger,:: Sideswipe tossed out.
The pair were in the apartment when he left the office. Sideswipe knelt on the floor with supplies for his trip to one of their vendors spread out around him. Sunstreaker leaned against the back wall, intently carving a piece of helm plating with a sharp edged stylus.
"But," Sideswipe said, looking up at Bluestreak, "He wants you around, so he can't be all bad."
TBC
Notes - Time units:
A joor is 1 and 1/4th hours
A shift is 10 hours
An orn is 60 hours
A megacycle is 12.5 days, just shy of two weeks
A rotation is 60 day, or 8.5 weeks
A vorn is 83 years
A breem is 8.3 minutes.
A klik is just over a minute.
A nanoklik is a second.
A/N: I'm going to be sad when Sunny and Sides are no longer in this regularly.
