Title: Camber Play
Chapter: 3/15
Continuity: G1
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Beta: ultharkitty
This Chapter
Warnings: crack, some angst, twisted fluff
Characters: Blades, Blast Off, Scavenger
Rating (Chapter): PG
Summary: Blades meets Scavenger, and gets something to fight his boredom.
Blades didn't recharge.
Blast Off had gone to sleep hours ago, and would probably get up soon, but Blades forced himself to stay awake. He didn't want to be surprised again.
When the shuttle did get up, he left for a moment, came back, and gave Blades the energon cube like every day. Then he vanished once more.
With Blast Off gone, Blades felt even worse. What if his team mates came back for him? Or other Decepticons thought it would be entertaining to visit the only Autobot on the Nemesis. Blades was not just scared, but also tired. He wouldn't have the strength to fight back, even less than he had before.
Looking at the door for a moment, Blades decided to do what he'd missed the previous day. He got up quickly, hurried to the desk and grabbed the biggest screwdriver within reach.
He was back on the couch as quickly as he'd stood up, and waited. There was nothing else he could do.
He would recharge when Blast Off was back. During that time hopefully no one would dare enter the shuttle's quarters.
After his outburst, Blast Off hadn't done anything. Hadn't looked at him like he was just waiting for Blades to settle down. He hadn't looked at Blades at all.
Blades scolded himself for having been so afraid of the shuttle. Blast Off had had enough opportunities to force himself on Blades, and considering the mech's strength, he definitely didn't need to wait for Blades to be unconscious.
In fact, Blades realised, he was safer with the shuttle.
With a sigh, he settled back, and turned the tool in his hands. There were several things he could do with it, and his optics shifted to the chain at his ankles.
As before everything he did, once again Blades first looked at the door. After making sure no one would come in, hearing no steps from outside or voices in the hallway, he started working on the mechanism.
It wasn't like anything he'd seen before, but Blades tried his best. And failed.
The shock travelled not only from his ankle up his leg, but also nearly caused his hands to become numb. At first there was the burning pain, and then, as though the sensor nodes had given in, Blades couldn't feel his lower arms any more.
At that exact moment, when Blades lost his grip on the tool and it had rolled to the backrest, the door slid open.
He tensed.
The mech that entered was smaller than the shuttle, and the paintjob brighter. Purple and green, and a shovel hung down his back.
He hummed a tune that was familiar, and he had a large box under his arm.
Blades was ready to jump up, and almost did when the mech saw him.
"Oh, hi," he sounded perplex. The surprise made Blades wary, but his instinct to flee faded a little.
"Right, you're the Autobot. Wow, I didn't expect that," the mech said, and Blades finally identified him as one of the Constructicons, the excavator. "I kinda thought it was a joke, but wow."
He really did seem surprised, and Blades was confused. He could only stare.
"Uh," the Constructicon began anew. He followed the chain with his optics to where it vanished beneath the couch. "I didn't mean you are a joke. But there's a rumour going around about a Protectobot being held in some room. I didn't really listen. I hardly ever pay attention to the gossip on the ship so… uh, yeah. Anyway. I'm here for work." He pointed at the console behind him. "That one needs repairs but I guess you already know that."
He gave a nod, and turned to the console. Within a few kliks, tools were spread on the floor, and the mech took care of the device, still humming that tune.
It took Blades a while until he recognised it, and when he did, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out.
"It's MASH, isn't it?" Blades' voice was still staticky, his vocaliser not fully repaired, but it caused the mech to look up.
"I, uh," the Constructicon began, his optics flickered once. "I picked the tune up a while back when I… uh-"
"I like the show." Blades decided to interrupt the stammering. He couldn't quite understand why someone would be embarrassed watching human TV, but this was probably a Decepticon thing.
"Oh," the mech uttered in surprise. "Well, nice. I try to catch up on it whenever I can. Work's keeping us busy, and now with the Combaticon base being rebuild and all the battles." The purple visor flickered again. "I… probably shouldn't talk to you."
The mech turned back to the console, and continued the repairs.
Desperation boiled inside Blades. He finally had someone to talk to, and it didn't matter that it was a Decepticon.
"What episode are you on?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going. "I mean, we can talk about MASH, right? You don't have to tell me about your work. Just… talking is nice." The staticky screeches made the nervousness in his voice less detectable, though the Constructicon still picked it up.
"I'm at episode 218." The Constructicon changed tools, and the sound of a drill was loud in the room. When the noise ebbed, he added. "Blast Off doesn't talk about things like that, does he?"
Blades shook his head even though the other couldn't see him.
"I think," the Constructicon pondered as he worked on the computer, "he doesn't like talking. At least I can't remember if I ever talked to him. Actually," he stopped for the time it took for tools to clatter in his box as he rummaged around, "I think he doesn't like people."
Blades vented air. His legs on the couch, and chin on his knees, he hid the screwdriver with his body. "But he's part of a gestalt, right?" It was just hardly understandable that someone who shared a bond with others could beat them up like that.
"Well, yes, he is, but-" the Constructicon shrugged. The shovel twitched twice. "They're difficult, to say the least."
The conversation ebbed.
Blades had no idea what he could answer to that, and so he tried to remember what happened in episode 218 of MASH. That way he might be able to change the topic. It was nice to talk to someone again.
Before Blades found the right memory file, the Constructicon straightened up and gathered his tools.
He turned. The battle mask hid the face, but his voice sounded as though he was smiling when he said, "I can turn a TV channel on if you like? Then it won't be so boring."
Blades perked up. "Oh. Oh, yes, please!"
The Decepticon nodded. He typed something into the key board, and went to the door. Stopping once, it appeared as if he'd wanted to say something else, but he kept quiet. Blades watched the mech leave.
Blades knew the channel. It was the one where episodes of MASH aired every weekday. It had to be early afternoon, because right now the human cartoons were shown like every day before the more exciting shows.
The colours and heroic screams and weird flickers made Blades dizzy. He didn't drift into recharge, but he dimmed his optics and only half listened to what was going on.
Over the noise of a man riding a tiger, Blades missed the ping sound that always came shortly before the door opened.
When the light from the hallway shone into the room and a shadow grew on the floor, Blades' intakes hitched. He tensed, optics widened, and he reached next to him for the screwdriver. He held it so tight, the joints on his fingers almost creaked.
The dark figure that stepped in was familiar. And Blades relaxed. Only to freeze again when Blast Off turned to the TV.
The door closed.
Without any comment, the shuttle switched the TV off, and then looked at Blades.
"The repair person turned it on," Blades explained, not even knowing if Blast Off wanted to hear it. It was the moment he became aware that the purple visor wasn't fixed on him, but on the screwdriver that Blades still squeezed tight.
The screwdriver that Blades got from the desk when he was walking around, which he wasn't allowed to do.
Blades' rotors quivered, and he shuffled back until his back hit the armrest. He expected an angry growl of that strong shuttle engine, or an annoyed huff. Maybe he'd be punched just like Blast Off had punched his team mates. Maybe the shuttle would weld him to the wall, wordlessly, and enjoying it that he finally had a reason to immobilise Blades.
Blast Off came closer, and the quivering of Blades' rotors became an anxious twitching.
Blades clung to the tool like to a lifeline.
He needed to explain that it was only for self-defence, but the words were stuck in his throat.
Blast Off held out his hand to Blades, staring at him.
It seemed like a whole joor passed before Blades dared move. He relaxed enough to stretch out his arm but came the other's hand only slowly closer. Reluctantly, Blades put the screwdriver into the shuttle's palm.
The tool looked so small in Blast Off's hand.
Neither of them spoke. Blast Off put the screwdriver back on the desk, and lay down.
Blades kept looking at the mech for a while, sincerely wondering what had just happened.
Huddled in the corner where the back and the armrest met, he eventually fell asleep.
Blades woke up the next morning with a numb arm. He'd laid weirdly on it, and the energon flow had been disrupted. He shook it out as well as he could, then glanced around in the search for Blast Off.
Like the day before the shuttle was gone. The energon cube was on the floor, and next to it... Blades rebooted his optics. Next to the energon, in reach if he leant off the couch, there was the screwdriver.
Blades took it both. Today, he wasn't scared.
Joors passed in which nothing happened. No one entered the room, and Blades was partly relieved, and partly disappointed.
He became bored.
He'd tried to get rid of the cuffs again, but only got shocked, and so he gave up after a while.
When Blades had to dismiss escaping as an activity, he started to push the screwdriver's handle on the flat covering of the couch. He counted the astroseconds it took to smooth itself out again, and attempted it with various intensities of pressure.
After that wasn't entertaining any more, Blades tried to draw patterns or figures on the flat surface, making it a challenge to finish them before the first line had vanished. He didn't realise how much time he'd spent on this, and only became aware of it when the door opened.
He checked his chronometer.
Blast Off had been away for 9.84 joors.
Blades sat up straight, giving the screwdriver back when Blast Off stood next to him and held out his hand.
"You're not watching TV," the shuttle said, sitting down at the desk and put the tool to use on the device on there.
"Uh," Blades wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. "No? I can't."
Blast Off looked up at Blades, and glanced at the computer. "Did Scavenger not give you access to the lower functions of the console?"
Blades shook his head. "He only turned it on."
With a sigh that Blades wasn't sure if was annoyed or tired the shuttle got up. His energy field was drawn close as he passed Blades, rounding the berth to the way to the console.
"Ping it. It needs your frequency."
Blades sat up on his knees, eyeing the shuttle with suspicion. "And then what? What do you need it for?"
Blast Off tipped his head to a side. "If you want to watch TV, ping it. I don't need it for anything. I don't care about your frequency. If I needed it, I'd ask Soundwave to extract it."
That made a lot of creepy sense, and Blades hoped the communications officer wouldn't poke inside his head. He nodded briefly, and hesitatingly pinged the console.
The screen flickered, and text scrolled down that Blades couldn't read. Blast Off blocked the console with his massive frame. From this angle, it looked as though the shuttle was typing.
Blades waited, and finally after a moment that took way too long for his tastes, the console pinged back.
"There," Blast Off said and went back to his desk. "You can change channels now. Just mute it and have the sound sent to you directly. I'm not keen on enduring these primitively annoying programs."
Blades grinned. "Sure thing." If he was lucky, he'd catch the rerun of today's MASH episode. He could indeed change the program, and couldn't help but be grateful. Finally he'd have something to do, and some noises other than his own and the ship's systems.
"Thank you," Blades said honestly.
Blast Off's visor brightened for the fraction of an astrosecond – maybe in surprise.
"Hm," he uttered gruffly. "That way you'll hopefully stop staring at me all the time."
The heliformer resisted snapping a sassy remark, and merely kept grinning. He didn't let it falter even though he did wonder if he'd really stared at the shuttle that often.
MASH began airing, and Blades shrugged his thoughts off.
Both mechs remained quiet. Blades enjoyed watching TV and the company. It was almost like with his team.
