This one, as with Ratchet, possessed two sets of shutters. The translucent, horizontal pair slid over his blue optics and a rumble emanated from his throat. Prowl knew, sooner than he had with Ratchet, illogically even before the beast had spoken, that this was Prime. There was no doubt in his befuddled mind.
The red beast twisted his head to look at the oozing holes, his long neck dipping in the middle. "Need to be more careful about that," he muttered, almost to himself. "How are you handling there, Prowl?" Prime's voice grumbled out of the deep chest, not quite reaching the throat, much less his long mouth. His words slurred worse than Ratchet's and Prowl's own. The plates on his nose shifted closer together and the corners of his long mouth dropped down.
Prowl narrowed his optics in concentration, setting to the difficult task of speaking. "Why aren't you helping Ratchet wake up the others?" Prowl blasted air out of his nasal passages in annoyance. Cybertronian was not intended for a fleshy vocalizer. The Ark's coolant seemed to be working through his fuel lines, clearing his processor of the… organic… static and allowing him to focus better.
"Would you like to try bringing Jazz online?" Prime asked, turning down the corridor and fully expecting Prowl to follow. Naturally the tactician did. He noticed, now that he could process clearly, how low he sat to the ground. He hadn't noticed before, since his perception had been greatly distorted by the new form and his optics seemed at their normal level in relation to Ratchet and Prime.
He turned his head to examine his new body, his long white neck twisting obligingly. Sinuous, he almost had the appearance of one long fleshy tentacle with thin legs and arms sticking out. A single black line ran along his underside, it reached up his neck farther than he could see and to the tip of his tentacle aft. His door panels seemed to have been converted to the three-tined membrane that flexed as he moved. Light fuzz covered the back of his neck and the tip of his tail, waving gently with every motion.
A loud expulsion of air drew his attention back to Prime's towering form.
"I cannot compute how I'm able to stand, much less walk, on these rod thin legs," Prowl admitted sheepishly when he realized he'd stopped. His ventilator appeared to object to his long sentence and he sat there for a few astroseconds, aware only of the intake and exhalations that expanded and contracted his torso.
Prime's brow ridge lifted and his tentacle aft lashed suddenly as a laugh huffed from his broad chest. "I was wondering if you'd be able to walk myself." A smile lifted the plates on Prime's cheeks. "It's only a little farther."
A little farther proved to be what seemed little more than a morgue. Bodies, large and small, lay strewn carelessly about. Prowl's exterior plating shuddered at the sight of the deathly gray mass.
Optimus headed straight for two bodies that had been positioned in a corner of the room. His head turned to watch the placement of his hands and feet, his tentacle aft lifted up to avoid smacking any of the inert bodies.
Prowl eyed the path Optimus used. His shorter legs and arms would have him scrambling over the bodies, and he didn't really want to touch them. He looked around the room, and found a series of small slopes with odd glassy areas ran the length of the room. He clambered up, balancing himself with his sinuous extremity. He gathered himself and leapt from slope to slope, amazed at the agility this lithe body possessed.
Prime nudged the two creatures before him, blowing air over them. He looked at Prowl expectantly.
Prowl examined the two bodies, one seemed of similar conformation to himself, the other looked similar to Ratchet. Prowl winked the translucent shutters over his moist eyes and looked up at Prime. "Which one's Jazz?"
Optimus seemed to droop, long neck and tentacle aft dipping down. "You can't tell either?"
Prowl tilted his head. "No."
His torso contracted in a noisy sigh. "Neither could Ratchet." He touched a hand-foot to the one that appeared similar to the tactician. "Jazz." His other hand-foot he touched to the Ratchet-shaped beast. "Ironhide."
Prowl gingerly put his own hand-foot on the grey body. "He's warm!"
"You have sharp fingertips, don't forget," Prime said in warning.
Prowl snatched his hand-foot away, too late, as the grey figure oozed grey fluid. "How should I wake him then?"
"Carefully."
Prowl did not appreciate his commander's sense of humor right then. Air hissed out from his clenched jaws, squeezing between his mouth tentacle and his elongated dental plates. He felt the hard tips of his membranous wings tap his side plates.
He watched Prime prod the inert form with his wedge-shaped nose. He rested his blue-tipped hand-feet on a massive shoulder, carefully lifting the sharp points away from the tender flesh. The tactician sighed, the translucent shutter winking over his eye as he nudged Jazz's lithe grey form with a hand-foot, cautious of the placement of his fingertips.
They continued touching, nudging and prodding their comrades, trying to stir them from stasis.
A sudden resonating shriek echoed through the Ark.
Prowl whipped about, his pointed fingers sliding down Jazz's torso. Prime's head jerked up, only to relax again. A thoughtful growl rumbled from his chest and he looked to Prowl.
"Sounds like Wheeljack is online. Shall we let him try?" The massive red mech-turned-flesh lightly stepped over his crew. Prowl followed, using the soft-as-slag ledges to circumvent the bodies.
They walked the short distance back to where the Ark leaked.
Ratchet and another white creature drank at the small stream, tilting their heads back to allow the liquid to flow down their throats. The second white creature, whom Prowl assumed to be Wheeljack, looked up at their approach. His gaze slid from Prowl to Prime and he froze. The secondary shutters blinked and the odd blue membranous wings that lined his jaw hinge rippled.
"Optimus?" The small three-tined wings on his shoulder flattened.
The Autobot Commander nodded, but his optics slid to Ratchet still drinking from the pool. "Are you alright, Ratchet?"
The medic paused to glare at Prime. "Practically prime, Optimus. I'll be much better if you tell me that Prowl was able to bring Jazz or Ironhide online."
The long, red neck curved, dipping Prime's nose to his hand-feet. "No such luck, I'm afraid."
"Fragging wonderful," the medic snarled. His mouth tentacle whipped out to clear his nose and mouth of the coolant. "Would you slagging bring Jazz over, then?" Ratchet frowned at the other three until Optimus nudged Wheeljack ahead with his nose.
Prowl glanced at the medic, and turned to follow Optimus. He joined them at Jazz and Ironhide's forms, watching as Prime directed Wheeljack in waking the offline mech.
"That's the third time since I came online that he has refueled. I have not felt the need since my initial fueling in this form."
Both of the white Autobots blinked their secondary shutters at their commander.
"I'm a little confused about how this happened," Wheeljack ventured, his headwings rippling in bright blue waves. As with Optimus his voice originated more from his chest than his throat, his sectioned lip components remained for the most part still.
Prime shook his head, his projections scraping against the Ark's ceiling. "I'm sure that all of us wish to know the answer to that, Wheeljack." He sighed and frowned. "Apparently Ratchet is the only one able to bring anyone online. I was hoping that you might be able to as well, Wheeljack. I am not comfortable depending on Ratchet alone to revive the crew."
Prowl drew the most logical conclusion and stiffened. "You believe he's using his own reserves somehow?"
"I believe it to the point that I know it to be true, Prowl." Prime slid a hand-foot under the saboteur and Prowl stepped in to help maneuver Jazz across Prime's shoulders. "He insists on doing it though, and I regretfully agree to the necessity. I have not been able to locate any Decepticons among the bodies. And there are three of the crew missing as well."
Wheeljack's headwings shifted. "You recognize them?"
"Odd, isn't it?" Optimus agreed. "You can continue trying to wake Ironhide. Prowl and I will take Jazz to Ratchet."
Prowl followed Optimus out, his lean and agile form slipping around the much larger mech's bulk to keep Jazz from sliding off. They both paused mid-step when they reached the small stream in what Prime identified as the rec room. The two officers paused, exchanging a concerned glance with each other.
Ratchet lay stretched out on his side against the wall. Deep, even rumbles emanated from the white form, his optics shuttered.
Prowl inched forward, wondering what they would do if their only medic malfunctioned. "Ratchet?"
The white beast seemed to snap online, blinking both sets of shutters as he shook his head. "'Bout slagging time," the medic grumbled, rising to his hands and feet. His aft twitched, spasming down the tentacle with annoyance.
Prowl helped Prime slide Jazz off his shoulder. An explosion of air, accompanied an irritated grumble.
"What the slag happened?" He touched the leaking slices on the saboteur's shoulder, glaring at them from under his chevron.
"We have sharp fingertips," Prowl admitted, his wing membranes scraping against his side.
Ratchet's aft twitched and his dental plates bared in what could only be a scowl. "Glad you noticed. Now I'm sure there's something you should be doing. Prime, how about Wheeljack, any luck?"
Optimus huffed. "Unfortunately no."
A growl, like an engine sputtering, rumbled from the medic's throat. "Of all the times for 'Aid to be inaccessible."
The big red Autobot turned. "Let's see if you or Wheeljack can get a response from Teletraan-1, Prowl."
Prowl turned to follow, his head the last to whip about as he watched Ratchet lay his hands on Jazz's grey form.
And from the medic's hands, color flowed into the saboteur.
Author's Notes: So this gives me till the end of February to get the next one up, yes? ;) Also, within the next day or so(tonight even?), I'll be posting links on my profile to art inspired by/related to this fic. Yay arts!
...You know, I really look forward to them using the correct terms on their anatomy. :headdesk: