Budgies are cute. Even their name is cute.

Chapter 3: Game Wardens

--(Iacon, inner hallways)--

"Wire sensor snares? Weren't those old hunting traps for turbo wolves? I heard those things still worked… It was in the field operations lesson." The white shuttle talked just to fill the silence after each of Jazz's inquiries, and Jetfire was inwardly screaming at himself to shut up. But he wasn't able to stop talking for the life of him! He felt like such an idiot…

"Yeah. But that's where he was. Oh yeah, the kid's name is Starscream. From what I could tell, he's a bit younger than you." Jazz held an easy, slow step, not really minding Jetfire's nervous chatter. Starscream would be let out of the medical bay in a few days, three to be exact, and everyone would get to know the little seeker. Optimus had wanted a thorough personality evaluation by everyone, since he acknowledged the need to at least be somewhat security conscious.

Everyone was also cautioned to be on their best behavior.

Jetfire was fairly confident in his abilities to fight, and he knew shuttle-mechs were larger than seekers. Plus he was inside the Autobot's MAIN BASE OF OPERATION, with loads of backup if he needed it. He was supposed to follow orders and everything, and he was way outranked here, but still…

"Why are we trying to help a Decepticon again? I mean, it just seems kinda confusing after all the lectures about war…" Jetfire was unsure if his question was out of line. Though Jazz didn't seem to react to it in any negative way. Unless an exaggerated shrug and sigh meant 'off with your helm'.

"It takes some time to make a mech into one of them crazy Decepticons. Just like it took time to make you into an honorary Autobot. And man, if we can make him an Autobot, why not? You'll have to talk to Optimus about the details on that though." Jazz snapped his fingers and spun before taking a right down another hallway. Jetfire had paused to stare at him. He'd already realized Jazz was listening to music as he walked, and the strange walking styles of the sabatour wasn't what had stumped him.

TALK? To OPTIMUS? Great leader of the Autobots, supreme commander, top mech, the big oil? TALK to him? How in Primus name was he just supposed to walk up to the most important Autobot ANYWHERE and just TALK to him? Jetfire was all for being gutsy, but weren't there regulations for that or something?

"Heyyy! You comin' to see your new room or what?" Jazz had paused halfway down the hallway, knuckles on his hips as he pointed down the hall behind him, "It's bigger than those rooms at the academy."

Jetfire jumped a little as he was brought back to the here and now, "Oh, yeah," He jogged a little to catch up to Jazz, "So when am I going to meet my charge? Er… Starscream?"

"Your bot-sittin' starts in about three days, when Ratchet clears him to leave the medical bay. Optimus will probably introduce you two and answer any questions before then. Hang around, get to know him, all that stuff, ya dig?" It would be kind of a relief to actually designate watching the little pre-Decepticon to someone, since everyone here was usually busy to some degree.

Jetfire nodded a bit, "Sure…" he still wasn't sure how he was going to approach a Decepticon in a non-violent situation and make nice with him though.

--(Iacon, Medical Bay)--

"A… guardian?" Starscream's large orange optics blinked in confusion. He was still wary of this very gruff red mech, and had gotten over using the medical table as an obstical between them just earlier today.

Ironhide was having trouble explaining Starscream's to-be-assigned 'friend' without straight up saying 'we don't trust you to run around here on your own'. Optimus was in a meeting with some of the other commanders from other cities, and would be indisposed of for a few megacycles. He stared into those young, new-recruit-like optics.

Damn it was hard to explain bad things to young mechs.

"Yeah. So you won't get uhh…" That's right, Jetfire didn't know his way around either, "To protect you from… err…"

Starscream's optics widened a bit out of fear, "Is someone going to try and attack me?" his voice squeaked slightly. Everyone here was bigger than he was, and a lot more experienced too. He wasn't in home territory, he was with AUTOBOTS. Autobots! He didn't finish his training either!

"What? No no no no. He's just going to keep you company. He's about your age, and you can go flying with him," Ironhide recovered quickly, trying to quell the panicked expression on the seeker's faceplate. The smaller's wings had begun to tremble slightly, "No one is going to do anything bad to you here. Attack you or otherwise, I promise." Ironhide reached out to touch and pat his shoulder. Starscream flinched and started to tremble more violently.

Damnit.

Starscream grew more fearful at the frustrated frown and tensing of Ironhide's jaw, drawing back immediately when Ironhide tried to reach out again. The weapons enthusiast gripped his hand into a fist and sighed before pulling back and giving Starscream a few steps of space.

It was very frustrating trying to do the right thing, and failing so miserably because of a youngling's irrational fear.

"I'm sorry. Jetfire is really nice, and ya'll like him a lot. He'll be in here some time soon." Ironhide grumbled and walked to the door, deciding his absence was the only thing that would calm Starscream down.

Starscream drew up his legs and huddled, watching as the medical bay doors slid shut and beep as they were locked. He wasn't exactly a prisoner of war… prisoners didn't get to walk around the Autobot capital, right?

But he wasn't allowed to leave the room. The doors were locked outside every time he was alone, and they would stay that way until he was allowed to leave. And what was with assigning him a 'friend'? He had friends, and he wasn't supposed to make friends with Autobots. Thundercracker was still out there somewhere, and Skywarp was… back at training camp. He probably wasn't that worried. Skywarp tended not to worry…

It didn't change the fact Starscream missed some familiarity.

--

It's short like hot-pants.