III.
"Now," Barricade said, making sure he was positioned exactly where he wanted to be, just out of line of sight.
The repair bot unhooked an auxiliary power cable, and hit the override. The purple bot hanging in the repair cradle twitched once, twice, as her own power source came online. The repair bot shuffled to the shadows by the head of the cradle, out of her sight entirely, ready to shut her down if Barricade gave the command. Barricade couldn't imagine he'd need to. But he hadn't gotten as far as he had without taking odd precautions.
"Whe-where am I?" she said, her voice feeble and small. Her eyes, still powering up, clicked from side to side.
"You are safe," he said, keeping his voice low and soothing.
"I don't know your voice," she said. "Who are you? I can't see you. Why can't I see you?" Her voice took on a note of panic. She stirred in the plasmesh of the repair cradle.
"You are safe," Barricade repeated. Same tone of voice. Could just have set up a recording, he told himself. Get through all of this tedious and completely predictable exchange. "You cannot yet see because your optics have not yet cycled through to lowlight." Well, that and Barricade had ordered the repair bot to resequence her startup. To give him just this window of blind opportunity. "How are you feeling?"
"I still can't see!" she said.
"It will come, I assure you. You were badly damaged so your power was reserved for more necessary functions. It merely takes a moment to reroute itself." Sure, different story than what he'd just told her. Good test of mental acuity: see if she caught the inconsistency.
She didn't. "I am injured? I remember, I think…," her voice trailed off.
Nope. Not where Barricade wanted her to be. Wanted her here and now. "You are safe now." Primus, he was bored already with saying that. Shut up, he told himself. You know how to do this. "That is what matters."
"Where am I? Where is everyone else?" He could tell from the slower way she moved her head that her optics were coming back online.
"You are with me," he said. "You are in the repair bay." Keep it simple. Like to see her say he lied.
"This is a repair bay?" her voice was doubtful. "Where are the humans?" She pushed herself a little upright in the cradle—an awkward maneuver, considering that to begin with, she was barely large enough for it. The repair bot scuttled farther into the shadows.
"We have no humans."
"No humans—are you…?" her eyes snapped to focus on Barricade's face. He could see the irises pinch in fear. "You're one of them!" She tried to push herself away from him in the cradle, but the cradle's straps had caught around the fairing over her foot-tire.
"You are safe," he said, adding just a little more insistence in this time. "Here, with me." Good idea to plant the idea early that her safety was linked to his proximity. Could come in handy later.
"You're going to kill me." A defiant tip to her pointed chin.
"If I were going to kill you, why would I repair you and wake you up first?"
"Because—"
"Because that's just what depraved, sadistic Decepticons do? Is that what you were going to say?" He didn't try hard to keep the amusement out of his voice. Not that he minded a terrifying reputation, but sometimes it got a bit laughable: Decepticons ate protoforms before battle. Decepticons powered their starships with the sparks of dead Autobots. Insane, ridiculous stuff. Whoever was in charge of their psyops had a real bloodthirsty streak.
She had enough decency (not common sense, though) to drop her eyes. "I-I'm sorry." Could always count on the Autobots to worry about the other's feelings. Predictable, the Autobots had yet to learn, meant easily manipulable.
"It is nothing. How are you feeling?"
"I am…functional."
"Your weapons have been disabled," he said, trying to sound apologetic. "Necessary precaution. You understand."
She didn't trust him—tried to power up her fusion blade. When nothing happened, her shoulders slumped. "I'm a prisoner."
"Better than dead."
"Why me? Am I the only one? Where's Chromia? Is she here? Can I see her?"
"We do not have this Chromia. She looks like you?"
"Yes, she's blue. She's my sister. Are you sure you don't have her?"
He shook his head. "I am sorry. We do not have your sister."
The cycle bot looked torn between relief and worry. Relief that Chromia wasn't here, but also worry—maybe this Chromia was dead. Barricade made a note to look up what he could on the cycle bots. Their Autobot personnel database wasn't much, but it occasionally had a few gems. Would be nice to have some help doing this: with the two prisoners, Barricade wasn't going to have any downtime any time soon. He wasn't sure when he'd be able to squeeze in his interrogation prep. But he hadn't gotten where he was—finally, a position of respect—by complaining about too much work. Not that he'd have time to complain. He debated pulling an incentive—an offer to send a message to this Chromia—but decided it was too soon. Start throwing in the heavy approaches too early, and tip your hand. She was still trying to swallow the concept that he wasn't going to kill her and eat her circuitry while she died. Nice guy would be too big a lump for her to get her throat around.
"What are you going to do with me?"
"You mean, since I am not going to kill you?" He tried an easy smile. He was aware he didn't have the most appealing face, but he wasn't going for 'handsome' here. Just a standard 'harmless'. Worked: she gave a fleeting return smile. Thin, insincere, but still—it was a response-in-kind. "I suspect they are planning to hold you for ransom. Or perhaps a prisoner exchange. That sort of thing." 'They' to keep him separated from the rest of the Decepticons. He didn't need her to like them. Just him. Trying to convince her that every Decepticon was as sweet and pure as new oil was a task too large and laughable. Let her hang on to her hate and fear of them. Just not him.
"Hold me for…?"
"Yes. You see, you're perfectly safe. They'd need you alive, and in good condition, right?" Right? He pushed the word at her. Get her to agree with you. On anything. Leading rapport. Right, he said in his head. Right.
After a moment, "Yes, I guess so."
He deflected her doubt. "You think they wouldn't give a ransom for you? Surely they value you."
"Well, yes, but…."
"But what?"
She seemed embarrassed. "I've never heard of it happening. A ransom or anything like that."
He gave an easy shrug. Time to interject a dose of doubt-about-the-leadership. "They probably don't like to advertise. You know, that they've done deals with us. Doesn't play well to say, yeah, we gave the bad guys one of their bad guys back."
"I guess that makes sense."
"In a weird way, yes." He shifted forward. "Now, how are you doing? Anything I can get you?"
"I'm not sure who you are." A little non-linear but he'd go with it. Random meant off-balance,
and off-balance was good.
He flashed another fakely charming smile. "Sorry. Forgot. I'm Barricade." He watched her closely from under slightly lowered lids for her reaction. Nothing. She'd never heard of him. Good for this interrogation, but it still pricked his professional pride.
She held out her hand. Barricade froze, and then realized he was supposed to take it. He closed his hand around her small fingers awkwardly. "I'm Flareup," she said.
Barricade fought for the something she was waiting for him to say. "Sister of Chromia," he said, finally. Stupid, but it was something. She smiled. Must have been close enough.
"So are you my guard or something?"
He summoned up that slick soothing voice, the one he thought of as Starscream's at his most unctuous. "Something. Of course you will not be allowed to wander unaccompanied, you understand. But I am here to make sure you are reasonably well treated. And to address your concerns." And to find if there's anything useful in that pretty little head of yours. Of course there was, he corrected himself. Everyone knows something. Even if they don't know they know it.
"Is there anyone else here?"
"You are on a ship full of Decepticons," he said, flatly. "Most of them bigger than me. Is that what you wanted to know?" He knew what she was really asking—if they'd taken another Autobot. He wasn't ready to answer that one yet. "Now, what concerns you?"
Flareup's face went through a rapid shift of expressions, scrunching up, at last, into tears. "I just, I want to go home!" she wailed.
Barricade closed his eyelids so she wouldn't see him roll his eyes. And everyone wondered why he called this a thankless and miserable job.