So, I know I suck for making you guys wait this long, but I have a feeling this is how updates are going to be from now on. Grad year is busy, what can I say? Hope y'all enjoy this one x3 And I hope I don't confuse anyone with the medical jargon Ratchet talks about. I tried to make things at least sound accurate, but please let me know if something doesn't match up.
NOTE
::Indicates communication (comm) lines and intercom::
~Indicates speech over the twins' bond~
Indicates thoughts and emphasis
Overemotional
Chapter 3
Sideswipe stayed close to Ratchet's bumper the entire drive back to the Ark. He easily kept pace with the ambulance, equilibrium imbalance stabilized somewhat by his car form's closer proximity to the ground.
The pair didn't slow once they reached the Autobot base. Instead, they sped through the vacant halls and skid to a halt within the medbay. First Aid was waiting outside one of the private operating rooms, having been comm'd ahead by ratchet to prepare one for emergency surgery.
The medic in training hurriedly stepped around his mentor's vehicle form and opened the white double doors. His visor and mask hid his horrified expression at the sight of Sunstreaker's mutilated frame.
Attempting to regain his professional composure, First Aid released a deep sigh and tried to disassociate his feelings from the situation. This was just another frame that needed repairing. Opening optics he hadn't realized he had shuttered, the young mech could not contain a shiver.
Leaning over Sunstreaker, First Aid was about to lift the frontliner's much larger frame, upgraded joints built for these situations, when a pair of black hands was suddenly next to his own. Sideswipe gently nudged the Protectobot out of his way.
"Let me."
The red mech carefully lifted the golden frame out of Ratchet and hugged him close to his chassis. Carrying Sunstreaker bridal style, he moved quickly into the private room. Unspoken prayers were answered as his equilibrium circuits allowed him to remain standing.
Laying his spark brother reverently onto the med berth, Sideswipe was reluctant to step away. The decision was taken from him, however, when Ratchet pushed him out of the way to stand more firmly at Sunstreaker's side.
Sideswipe's world became a blur, his circuits unable to handle the sudden, aggressive motion. He sat down hard on his aft to prevent purging what precious little remained in his tanks.
Ratchet gaped down at the red mech; he hadn't used that much force to move the frontliner out of the way. Running a quick scan, his shock gave way to irritation.
"Glitch! Your equilibrium center is fried worse than Megatron's core processor!" Turning back to Sunstreaker, the medic removed the golden chest plates and began to check the repaired lines for any signs of stress. "First Aid," he called without looking away, "Take this idiot out to the main 'bay; then I'll need you back here to monitor Sunstreaker's processor while I operate."
Sideswipe, hunched over with his helm between his knees, was only vaguely aware of Ratchet's voice before there was a firm grip on his upper arm. First Aid gently pulled him to his feet and walked him to the door. Sideswipe tried to resist, but with most of his weight being supported by the junior medic and his tanks still churning dangerously, the weak effort was useless.
Easing the older mech onto the nearest berth, First Aid skillfully unlatched a medical port and injected a mild sedative before any stronger protests could be made.
Ratchet was beginning to unweld the temporary patches from the helm fins when First Aid slipped back into the room.
"I gave Sideswipe a level four sedative. He shouldn't be bothering us anytime soon."
"Good," the elder medic grunted. "Lock the door; I don't want to chance any other interruptions."
First Aid swiftly complied before moving to stand on the other side of Sunstreaker's berth. Glancing up from his work, Ratchet nodded to some of the equipment in the small room. "Hook up an energon drip, a spark monitor, and the stasis inducer. He's out right now, but I don't want him waking up during the surgery."
As he deposited the final patch onto a nearby trolley, the cheveroned mech's audios were graced with a steady beeping sound. Studying the screen, Ratchet noted, with no small amount of relief, that Sunstreaker's spark had remained stable, despite being weaker than usual.
Glancing over at his protégé, Ratchet grimaced. "Alright First Aid, consider this a crash course on repairing finer processor damage. We'll revisit in more detail later. Now, unfortunately, I can't let you observe the entire procedure first hand, as you'll be watching the monitors, but I will walk you through it verbally."
First Aid nodded. "Where do we start?"
Leaning down again, Ratchet reached around the back of Sunstreaker's helm, searching for the hidden clasps that connected it to his cranial unit. "I'll need to get this off so I can hook up the neural scanner; that's the smaller monitor over there."
The younger medic quickly wheeled the machine to Ratchet's side of the berth. Easily locating the connecting cables, he held them out for the other.
Ratchet, however, was still fumbling with Sunstreaker's helm. He had gotten the clasps open, but the protective metal would not slide off. Running sensitive hands behind the helm fins, he discovered a deep dent crushed into the side of the warrior's head.
Reaching back, the CMO grabbed the pressure powered dent remover from a second trolley. Securing one end over the dent, he eased the metal into its original shape in a well practiced motion. Tugging once more, he smoothly took off the black helm.
As Ratchet twisted to place it out of the way, he gave First Aid a clear view of Sunstreaker's upper body. The young mech stared down in morbid fascination. He has seen many bots without their helms, but never Sunstreaker. The golden warrior looked downright strange. His fins did not detach with the rest of the helm, and, so, looked obscenely huge against the fragile circuitry of his processor.
"Alright "Aid, you can pass me those connectors now."
Mentally shaking away the distracting thoughts, First Aid did as he was told and moved back to the other side of the berth, listening as Ratchet began.
"The medical ports for this scanner are generally found superior to the audio receptors, but some frame types differ from this. Fortunately for us, you can always locate them by the red ring surrounding the entrance."
Snapping the cables into place, Ratchet inspected the monitor. He muttered to himself, tracing a finger along a few of the moving lines. After a short moment, he turned to First Aid.
"This red one," Ratchet pointed to the top reading, "displays a general processor scan. Fluctuations here will be an easy way to identify any major changes to a patient's meta. Keep in mind, however, that by the time this transmits a problem, it may already be too late. Continuously check it for reference, but keep your optics on these three."
Ratchet moved his finger down the screen, passing lines of a low pulsing blue, a sporadic yellow, and a spiraling green.
"Top to bottom they represent the motor relays, the personality center, and the neural-conduit, Let me know the moment you spot the slightest changes, of any kind."
With that, the senior medic bent over Sunstreaker's exposed processor with a small laser scalpel. "Though not many bots have helm fins such as Sunshine here, this procedure is very similar to repairing common helm vents. Just carefully slice away any metal fuse with the internal workings, making sure you don't further damage any wiring."
Transforming a few fingers into surgical tools used for more delicate operations, he began prodding within the sensory fins.
"The circuitry in these is mostly fried. Thankfully the wires are easily replaceable. His sensors will be slightly fuzzy for a few days until his body can integrate the new parts, but there should be no lasting damage."
Deftly removing the frayed wires, Ratchet just as skillfully replaced the damaged components.
"Sir, the neural readings have begun to slow down and straighten out."
"Good. That's just his processor sorting itself out," Ratchet explained as he placed a support underneath Sunstreaker's neck to keep the warrior's helm propped up.
Kneeling to see better without displacing any monitor cables, the elder medic felt around the area the dent had occupied
"That dent was deep. The extended amount of exposure the circuitry suffered under the heavy pressure is going to cause some problems for his motor relays. I can't tell how, exactly, but there's nothing I can do now."
Pulling away, Ratchet ran a final scan across the exposed processor.
"Hmm." Frowning, the white mech entered a series of codes into Sunstreaker's meta. Glancing down, First Aid's optics widened to their highest setting as he watched the black lining surrounding the helm fins separated with a hiss. They opened to reveal a molten mess at the base of each side.
"Umm, Ratchet? What is that?"
"Bad news."
Looking at his assistant, Ratchet elaborated, "That, 'Aid, was a section of Sunstreaker's emotional hub. Specifically, the part of his processor that allowed him to choose how he acted upon any given feeling."
"And now it's slagged," First Aid whispered.
Ratchet sighed, "The most I can do is remove what's been damaged so it can't cause further harm. I'm going to need Perceptor's help for the replacement surgery, and he's currently stationed on Cybertron." At First Aid's confused look, he continued, "He has better specialized training with these types of repairs than I do."
First Aid nodded slightly, then frowned behind his mask, "Ratchet, why was the circuitry only fried in his fins, but this looks like Bruticus crushed it in his fist before throwing it into the smelter?"
"Because of how the fins were designed to work. They're sensory appendages, meant to receive data and organize it, before sending it to various parts of Sunstreaker's processor. When Thundercracker activated his sonic blast, the sensors were overwhelmed and sent everything to the nearest portion of Sunstreaker's meta at once." Ratchet's expression became contemplative. "There's a failsafe in place here that stopped the electrical charge from travelling throughout the rest of his processor. I'm not certain how it works, but that little bit of circuitry saved Sunstreaker from having the processing power of a drone."
First Aid stared at his mentor in horrified silence for a moment before they silently returned to saving a life.
xXxXxXxXxXx
I promise the plot will start moving along soon! I just need to finish setting the scene with the next chapter, and then things are going to get really interesting!
Reviews would be loved ^^
