Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and welcome back. Remember set story alert in the lower left corner to keep up with the latest. All files contained herein are rated Top Secret and above, much to Director Galloway's ire. Oh well, get over it dude. This is NEST, not group therapy. Rated T for adult jokes and humor WITHOUT explicit details.
NEST BASE, DIEGO GARCIA ISLAND
AUTOBOT MED BAY
"I want an explanation," Ratchet ordered, spinning his silver trademark wrench.
"The official report is properly filed, completed the evening of the attack," First Aid answered, his tone respectful as ever. His white chassis remained still, armored hands holding the latest repair part he had been manufacturing on the work bench. Seated and facing the wall, his attention remained focused downward as the seam weld cooled.
"That was two days ago. I want the unofficial version now," Ratchet said, moving closer. "A human is injured, with a specific if minor wound that is treated under your medical care. While humans have on occasion deliberately sought our assistance, Galloway is the last human I would expect to request our help. Especially after Major Lennox threw him out of an airplane to prevent interfering with bringing Opitmus back."
"If his own race considers him a problem, why are you concerned with him?"
"As Chief Medical Officer any being in my med bay falls under my jurisdiction and my responsibility, including him," Ratchet reminded.
"Ironhide brought him to me as the human medical technicians were duly occupied with injured humans. His medical condition mirrored stasis and he needed care. You taught me to care for all in need," First Aid explained, setting the part with the others in available parts bin. He swiveled around on the chair and stood, his shorter stature causing him to look up.
The wrench disappeared back into subspace as Ratchet considered his answer. "Caring was the reason? Not personal revenge? Not to find favor with a certain large warrior mech that always needs repairs by the designation of Ironhide? Not to impress me?"
"No sir. It was for the human's needs that I provided medical care," he said.
Ratchet nodded, realizing he spoke the truth. "Put those parts away and break out the high grade. We are going to celebrate your promotion to the next rank. You've earned it."
AUTOBOT PERSONAL QUARTERS
Chromia traced the glyphs that formed her name in Cybertronian down her mate's outer armor. The metal under her fingers heaved as her other hand moved lower, sliding out of view. Fingers grasped around the round handle then lifted the cleaner tool off the counter. "Only you would destroy the last target by colliding with it, rolling through mud and dirt all the way," she grimaced, scraping out the first glyph symbol.
"That target looked like Megatron," Ironhide grumbled, his blue optics watching her clean the dirt wedged into every joint, crack and engraving.
"Megatron is my target," Optimus reminded. He sat in the chair on the opposite side of their main living area, watching the couple. He sat half braced, having one too many chairs collapse under his massive weight. An optic arch rose as the blue armored femme continued cleaning Ironhide, letting the dirt fall to the floor.
"Move faster next time young 'un," Ironhide grunted.
"Next time is what I am worried about. I still have not heard a suitable explanation for the events surrounding the attack over two days ago," Optimus stated, the command tone in his vocal causing both other warriors to grin.
"The Decepticons attacked, humans were hurt and you risked your own chassis holding that concrete slab to allow Mudflap to rescue humans, including one called Galloway. I heard what happened the moment I returned to base," Chromia said.
"He got handed to me. His injuries required medical help so I took him to med bay. I ain't no slagging medic," Ironhide grunted.
"Injuries?" Optimus repeated. "I saw no injuries beyond the head scrape. The concrete slab weighted down my shoulder plating, not my processor chips."
"Did you scan beneath his clothes? The space between his legs or focus on his head only?" Chromia challenged, wagging the cleaning tool his direction.
"Humans requested we not scan them, especially there," Optimus admitted then rubbed at his forehead plating, feeling the slightest neuron ache beginning, the version of a transformer headache.
NEST MAIN HANGAR
ONE HOUR LATER
Optimus, last living Prime and guardian of his race let his optics spin idly as he pretended to be considering the man's request. Galloway's face remained red and his breathing rapid as he finished his near screaming tirade. The silver battle mask hid Optimus' true expression and self control kept his chassis from moving as he faced the human standing on the communications platform. "I have correlated their reports and find no wrong doing in providing medical care. They respect your right to privacy and would not remove your clothing in public, displaying your wounds. I can only assume you are asking for the obvious detail not mentioned. We are unable to replace the missing parts. Our technology is mechanical not biological but we will render any other assistance as necessary."
"Assistance? &*(&$! your assistance! I do not need your help; I want to know how this happened! It's your war that damaged our buildings and me," the human continued.
"Director Galloway, if you continue in this manner I will sedate you before letting your blood pressure rise above its current elevated level. And exerting yourself endangers the constriction of your stitches so calm yourself," Ratchet ordered. The yellow and green armored mech moved to stand next to Optimus. The human gulped for air as his fists clenched and unclenched.
"I am going to report this to the President! The Joint Chiefs and NASA so they can send your sorry parts back into space!" Galloway gestured at them then upwards as though chucking them into the stars before rudely turning his back to them. Slowly, with a death grip on the handrail, he began descending the staircase.
::Should we let him do that?:: Optimus commed Ratchet
::Affirmative. With those painkillers in his system he feels nothing from the eyebrows down. He could do the splits and not feel a twinge of pain::Ratchet reassured.
::What is a split?:: Optimus asked.
::What happened to his intelligence and wits from his body when he took this job. See? Made it safely down the entire staircase::Ratchet quipped.
Galloway continued walking, taking short steps that everyone else ignored. Then it happened. The higher pitched vocals alerted the humans even as their equally matched energy signatures identified the arrival of Skids and Mudflap to the Transformers. Both in their bi pedal mode, they bounced into the hangar through the side door, mud and plant debris falling off in their wake. Both stopped in front of Galloway.
"Look who's up! Or not," Skids teased, rolling his optics wildly before hopping to the side as his twin elbowed him, hard.
"Glad to see you recovering him mean," Mudflap covered, glaring at his green armored twin.
Galloway hesitated, unable to answer without vindicating the wrong reaction. He frowned, eyes darting back and forth between the smaller twin robots and their leader. Optimus nodded his head to the side as though acknowledging the man.
::Do not mention his injury:: Optimus warned the twins internally on their shared comm frequency. Neither twin reacted and he vented deeply, the air from Optimus' valves rustling the human's paper reports.
On the floor bleow, the man made a humph sound under his breath before continuing to slowly walk towards the main doors. He almost made it out when music began playing over the main speakers. The laughter exploded from there.
"Who let the dogs out,
Woof, woof, woof, woof.
"Who let the dogs out,
Woof, woof, woof, woof."
Red faced again, Galloway reached the human sized door. Slamming the release bar down, the door swung rapidly outward to hit the outer wall and stick. His figure disappeared out into the tropical sunshine.
"Bang that door," Skids teased, waggling his optics.
"Only thing he is going to bang," Mudflap commented. Major Lennox and the other humans laughed harder, understanding the meaning of his joke while the other Autobots looked blank.
NEST / AUTOBOT RECREATION ROOM
"Wonder how the meeting with Galloway is going," Cliffjumper said, flipping through the channels. His red armored hand held the giant remote as comfortable as his own blast rifle. The giant sized TV screen on the wall flashed through the listing sequences faster than any human eye could follow. The min bot never missed a word.
"Don't care as long as he is going. Man, four hundred channels and ain't nothing good on," Jazz complained. The silver mech uncrossed his legs, balancing the bowl of energon treats on them to sort out his favorite colors before passing it to the left.
"Wait! Sam and Mikeala are on base correct?" the red minibot warrior suddenly remembered. He glanced up at the taller mech sitting on the other end of the giant couch. Sitting between them, Hound accepted the snack bowl, digging around for his favorite flavors.
"So?"
"Guess who texted me they are sneaking off inside our favorite scout for personal time?"Cliffjumper answered, keying the command code override to switch the TV image to their internal cameras.
"Bumblebee is transmitting live and personal," Jazz said as the image of Sam and Mikeala displayed.
"Love is blind, the neighbors ain't," Hound quoted.
"You mean three dashboard cameras, surround sound and Cybertronian sensors ain't," Cliffjumper corrected.
On screen, Sam and Mikeala kissed as their bodies pressed together, rustling their clothes. Bumblebee's tan backseat filled the rest of the picture behind them, no indication of which hanger he parked in to guard them. Then Sam's hands began sliding under her shirt. "Sam, Sam, oh Sam," she panted before the sound stopped.
"Is that all she knows? Sam?" Cliffjumper complained, the mute symbol displaying in the lower left corner of the screen. The tank top pulled up, tangling with her long hair as Sam tried removing it.
Prowl walked in the recreation room, his optics drawn to the large screen. His black and white wing doors shifted upward as his blue optics narrowed. Collectively, the assembled mechs froze, waiting for his reaction. Prowl watched for a second more then turned on his feet pads to face them. "Really? Watching reruns? I remember seeing that last week. Reports are due tomorrow and I will not tolerate them being late or incomplete. You obviously have time available to complete them." He turned, striding back out.
Jazz leaned over the couch end to slam the door shut, his visor flaring blue left to right. "What if he ever finds out last week was them too?"
"Who cares until he does? Any energon treats left?" Cliffjumper asked, turning the sound back on.
AUTOBOT OFFICES
COMMAND WING
Ultra Magnus regarded the security officer in front of him with limited understanding. "If these facts,"
"They are called fics as in fandom fiction stories sir, and have very little facts in them," Red Alert corrected. The red fire chief symbols on his wing doors seemed to bob up and down as he shifted on his feet pads.
"Fics are for recreational reading, and they are not leaking secure information or endangering our existence." His massive squared end metal fingers drummed across his metal tabletop. The datapads on his desk held on standby, the numerous reports and lists ready for approval or review. His processors ran calculations on battle schematics, surfed the human communications frequencies for NASA reports of probable landings of their kind and the continual updating of regulations while listening to a problem he calculated to be relatively minor. The ancient commander considered passing the discussion to Optimus then straightened in his chair. "Please explain what I am missing here."
"These fics are widely followed and their misinformation is creating an unnecessary danger in the forseeable future. The humans will stop fearing us and ask for us to adopt them as guardians, bringing them back here to live with us. You need to speak to the writers," he stated.
"We have no jurisdiction over any human not military personnel or allied with us like Sam and Leo," Ultra Magnus reminded.
"I refer to the fics by members of our team. Jazz, Bumblebee, the twins and Volt."
The ancient commander's optics widened as he realized what Red Alert said. "You mean the same mechs who can't file a report on time are writing stories for humans to read on the internet? About how we protect and watch them grow and develop as a race?"
"Yes sir."
"That explains why the errors, match the work they turn into us," he chuckled. "We hunt our Decepticon foes, not adopt fleshlings. Our presence here forestalls a Decepticon invasion and it is at their government's request we remain hidden. This does sound like a command issue."
"Then I leave the matter in your capable servos sir," Red Alert smiled, acknowledging the transfer of the problem before leaving the office.
"Talk to them about what they do in their free time? I would rather not know," Magnus chuckled again, pulling the nearest datapad to in front of him, scrolling through the reports.
Two hours later, he blinked his optics, raising an armored hand to rub at the circular edge guards. "I give. The human reports are more boring than ours. And to think both species choose to write for fun." He stood, stretching powerful cables and reinforced gears to rest his hands flat on the ceiling above. "I need a change of view." Ten minutes later his tall armored shape rounded the lagoon beach path.
"How would I describe this scene? Military base on an island surrounded by water with a lot of parked military equipment and Transformers walking around," he practiced.
Elita, Autobot femme commander and his equal in rank drove up in front of one of the hangars. Parts began rotating, shifting and sliding into place as her graceful figure formed out of her alt mode.
"Pink armor arms connected to pink armor chest plates down to white abdomen plating to armored middle. Hmm, this is harder than I first processed." Magnus narrowed in on her aft and thighs. "They move steadily? Or swish is the better word? No swish implies moving cloth not metal. Her legs clanked by each other? No, too mechanical sounding,' he reasoned as the pink armor stopped. A blur of deep blue suddenly moved in between. Retracting his optics back to a wider field range, he realized Optimus standing between him and his spark mate. The ancient Prime stood feet pads braced, hips wide and braced as his armored arms crossed over his simulated glass chest plates. Light reflected off his engaged battle mask as he spoke a single phrase.
"She is mine."
"Name a femme that isn't," the Commander teased back.
"Meaning?" The Prime's regal baritone voice deepened.
"You take for granted I will always be there to guard your back plates junior. I am no femme, I don't belong to you but have stayed out of loyalty to our friendship. You might want to remember that the next time you feel all powerful," Ultra Magnus stated.
To be continued...