Red Alert stared at the ceiling tracing the crisp interlocking lines. He didn't understand why so much trouble had gone into the ceiling. The white diamond shaped tiles were ornamental in a functional fashion. But why? Why put all that work into something hardly anyone ever looked at? The floor had bland pale silver square tiles that in some places were a bit darker or even a shade lighter depending on when they'd been replaced and by who. He considered the diamond pattern would be more difficult to replace, but not by much. With Wheeljack's workshop it would only take a couple breems to cut down a raw piece of tile to size. They could buy several pieces of tile and cut them down and store them and then they would have extras. The tiles didn't need to be replaced all that often. Well, in Wheeljack's lab they did. But the lab was a singularity. Perhaps someone had made a mistake. Maybe he was actually lying on the ceiling and staring at the floor. Could something like that happen? Could a warship be built upside down?
"Deep thoughts, Senchineru?" A softly amused and accented voice asked breaking the circle of his thoughts. He didn't startle at the voice as he might have a loud noise. Some part of his mind had heard even his soft steps in the quiet room. The speaker used Iaconian, but the syllables held the music of his native language instead of the utilitarian plodding Iaconian insisted on.
He blinked and turned his head and looked up at Prowl. Prowl didn't stand over him, instead he was crouched close, but not close enough to encroach, his head cocked at an inquisitive angle. With his wings slightly flared for balance he looked like an oversized bird. The stark silver and black feathers in his wings and his clawed feet reminded Red Alert of the large birds of prey that hunted the plains of Simfur. Maybe something like an intri—they had the dramatic contrast in their plumage with the underside ranging from white to pale brown and their primaries dark brown and black. "You look like a bird," Red Alert said. "Do you think the ship was assembled upside down?"
Red Alert didn't think Prowl's head could tilt more than it already was, but somehow he managed. "I think you've been on this ship too long," he answered with laughter in every singing syllable. "And luckily, we've arrived in the Lampero Aesteri system. Come, Senchineru, I'll take you flying." In the same instant he stood his wings folded back dispelling the intri-illusion. The soft sound of his wings folding back was covered by his voice, but Red Alert knew the quiet whisper of sound was there.
He snorted but got up off the floor. "Try to make my feet leave the ground and I'll pull out your feathers." He stretched and shook feeling back into his limbs. His horns felt too heavy like they always did when he lazed on the floor in Prowl's office for too long. "Are you finished or has your Umbra returned?" he asked. Breathing deep he picked up the soft scent of Prowl's polish with notes of rain and the heavy scent of damp moss. It was a natural scent that most mechs dismissed even when they were in the middle of space on a ship. It was how he could move through the halls like a ghost. Mechs never paid attention to their noses.
Prowl's laugh was humorless. "My work is never done." He stretched his wings to their full span for a second, as if they were rebelling against being pressed against a chair back again.
"Then Jazz is back and already causing problems," Red Alert sighed. He needed to go by the security room and make sure all the cameras were working. Jazz claimed he had nothing to do with the occasional malfunctions but he wasn't entirely certain he believed him. He kept a log of when the cameras went down and where Jazz was but there didn't seem to be a pattern. Yet.
"He doesn't always cause problems," Prowl said reaching out to take his hand. Red Alert let him take it. Despite his soft voice and the amount of time he spent at his desk, Prowl's hands were rough like stone. There was blatant strength in his fingers and the solid struts under his calloused exoform. Prowl never held him too tight. Even with his rough strong hand gripping his, the touch was feather light. Prowl gave him a gentle tug to pull him to the door and he knew if he resisted Prowl would not press him.
Red Alert followed him willingly and didn't pull his hand away. Sometimes it was nice having someone touch him even in this small way. Silver and black feathers mixed in a way Red Alert thought Prowl might find irritating. There was almost a pattern, but it was off by just enough it sometimes left Red Alert feeling a little irritable himself if he stared at it too long. It was impossible to tell if his wings were silver with black accents or black with silver accents. It looked more like someone had spilled two cans of paint and tried to mop up some of the mess but only blended it more.
Prying his optics away from the processor ache of Prowl's wings, he said, "but he did this time." He didn't bother phrasing it as a question. There was no reason for Prowl to go out of his way to greet Jazz. The saboteur always found his way to Prowl's office eventually. And for whatever reason, he always found Red Alert no matter where he went. The thought made him bristle. Why was their elite XOps agent keeping such a close optic on him?
With a long heavy sigh Prowl looked over his shoulder before he opened the door, amusement still in his optics. "But he did this time." He opened the door and the brighter hall lights spilled into the office stinging Red Alert's light sensitive optics for a second until they adjusted. He followed Prowl out and glanced up. Why would someone put diamonds on the ceiling?
oOo
It wasn't his fault.
The Polyhexian had known everything. Had known where every camera was, every motion sensor and tripwire. He had known the guard routes and how to get into the ventilation shaft. He hadn't even wasted time searching for the main terminal—well hidden in the spark of the base—he'd gone straight to it. They hadn't even known the filthy animal was in the base until a tripcode announced an unauthorized upload. But by then the mud-sucker was gone.
So it wasn't his fault.
But Shockwave was angry because now the Autobots knew even more than they did before. And it had been their job to keep that from happening. But the Polyhexian had known. It wasn't like they were the first base breached, but Shockwave was acting like what had been taken this time was bad. Very bad. And Megatron was going to be very angry that the information was gone. And he was going to take it out on all their exoforms.
Well, not his.
The other guards were still clawing at the walls of the cells Shockwave locked them in searching for anything sharp enough to cut their mainlines. The ones on patrol were already turning on each other hoping for a quick death.
But he'd slipped away.
He'd gotten away as Shockwave dragged the first of the 'volunteers' to his lab. He could still hear the screaming. It dogged his every step as he ran. He could hear it in the soft susurration of the leaves in the wind. He could hear it in his own panicked breaths. He could hear it in the snap of twigs breaking under his feet.
It wasn't his fault.
He knew whose fault it was, though. He would find the mech responsible and then he could go back to Megatron. Megatron would let him live. He wouldn't let Shockwave have him. He'd be too important. He would live. He didn't know much about the mech he needed to find, but he knew the name. The words hammered in his head to the beat of his feet tripping and jumping and running. It pounded to the skittering thud of his spark. And weaving through it all was a shrill scream that never stopped.
Red Alert Red Alert Red Alert Red Alert Red Alert Red Alert
oOo
A/N: Hello, hello! First off, thank you Vela513 who gave me the idea to write this in Red Alert's POV. Originally it was going to be another Jazz-centric piece, but I realized I've never really gotten into Red Alert's head. So thank you!
And thank you all for reading and reviewing!