Chapter 8
The 'Sort the Nuts and Bolts by Size and Year of Manufacture Party' was not, unfortunately, something Knock Out had invented just to encourage Wheeljack to go on the mission. In fact, Ultra Magnus had been planning it for over a month. Initially it had just been Sort the Nuts and Bolts by Size and Year of Manufacture Day. Ultra Magnus had added the 'party' bit after some bots (Wheeljack) complained that it didn't sound like fun.
Although he would never have admitted it, Knock Out didn't think it sounded all that bad . . . everyone in one room, gossiping away, without any risk to his finish? Not bad at all. And, like Magnus, he had an appreciation for order. Everything in its place. It was a little insulting that they had to do the menial work more appropriate for drones, but there wasn't anyone else to do it, after all.
Others were not so sanguine about the event; Arcee proved more than willing to trade her graveyard shift of monitor duty for Knock Out's daytime shift, which would allow her to escape the party (at least for a few hours).
"What are you getting out of this?" Arcee asked, eyeing Knock Out suspiciously. The two of them normally didn't interact much, for a variety of reasons. Chief among these was Knock Out's deeply ingrained suspicion of any Cybertronian smaller than he was and the fact that it was far too easy to forget that she was Third-in-Command. Knock Out didn't mind superior officers, but they should act like superior officers.
"I'd rather do anything besides stare at a computer screen for hours, twiddling my thumbs," Knock Out told her, which was the truth. "But since I have to do the wretched monitor duty, I might as well do it when there's nothing else to do anyway."
"Well . . ." Arcee looked tempted. "All right. It's a deal."
They shook on it, solemnly. Knock Out kept his elation off his face; this was supposedly an arrangement to make his life slightly more palatable, not part of a highly involved scheme. Arcee didn't need to know that he'd be bridging Bumblebee and Wheeljack out in the dead of night, with no inconvenient witnesses around.
"Hey," Arcee added, "don't forget about tomorrow. Jack's really looking forward to it."
His first thought was, Wheeljack, you idiot, I told you not to tell her!
Then he remembered—Jack, that was the name of her own personal human. Knock Out had promised to take the children—and any other interested parties—out to the hot spot. The fact that his offer "accidentally" coincided with the day of the Sort the Nuts and Bolts by Size and Year of Manufacture Party had been a source of great annoyance to Commander Magnus and great rejoicing to everyone else.
For his part, Knock Out felt that expecting everyone to work all day straight, as Magnus was wont to demand, would have been a massive mistake. After a predictable round of "Oh, I'm so sorry for the scheduling conflict, sir, my bad, it was an accident," he finally gained approval from the Commander.
So. Taking the human children to the site while he worked fervently to prevent Bryce from ever seeing it. The irony was not lost on Knock Out.
He shook his head and went to find Bumblebee.
"—so I've listed the passcodes for you, they should all be in order if you can get the computer up and running. I've got a data-stick somewhere—ah, here." He pressed it into Bumblebee's hand. "Download the file I've listed. And any others that catch your eye," he added as an afterthought. "But definitely this one."
Bumblebee examined the filename. "KOB? Ah yes, the infamous Decepticon corn lobby."
"What?"
"It was a joke. Never mind." Bumblebee ran through the list again, then eyed the red grounder.
"What?" Knock Out said in a completely different tone, crossing his arms.
"You knooow, for having been a Decepticon, you've never been such a great liar."
"Now THAT'S a lie. I've just taught you too much, Bug. To my everlasting chagrin."
"C'mon. What's this about really?"
"I'll tell you when you get back."
"Don't you trust me?"
"That," Knock Out sniffed, "is a silly question. But what can one expect from today's dissolute youth?"
"Yeah, well, pretty soon the new generation will be the dissolute youth. I'll be the cranky old bot shaking my cane at them."
"Right." Knock Out took the data-pad from him, frowning as he double-checked the passwords. "Keep an eye on Wheeljack, make sure he doesn't start, I don't know, trying to blast through the walls instead of using the doors or something Wrecker-ish like that."
Bumblebee took the data-pad back. "So you're really not going to tell me what this is about?"
"I think I answered that already," Knock Out said, a little more sharply than he intended.
"No, you evaded. Like you do."
"You figured out what I meant, so it's the same thing."
"If you're in trouble with Magnus and Prime—"
Knock Out's lips twitched in spite of himself. "I can handle our dear Commander just fine, thank you very much. And Prime is . . . Prime. Look. I'll explain everything, just not now. You trust me, don't you?"
"Against my better judgment."
And that was good enough for Knock Out.
"You know what?" Miko announced. "This would make a great setting for a horror movie."
"Why's that, Miko?" Bulkhead asked, setting her on his shoulder to give her a better view of the hot spot.
"'Cause of all the freaky protoforms, duh."
"Freaky?" Bulkhead looked out at the silvery forms nestled in the soil. "Huh, I'm not seeing it. Anyway, those are pre-forms. Protoforms is when they're, y'know, walking around on their own and stuff."
"There are a couple protoforms around here," Smokescreen told them, proud of his knowledge. "Haven't seen 'em yet, but maybe today, right?"
"That's the spirit, Smokey," Bulkhead agreed. "Man, I hope so too. Haven't seen one in forever."
"Well, I still think they'd make awesome zombies," Miko said. "Let's take a look at that one, Bulk."
"And just where do you think you're going?" Suddenly a ruby red grounder was blocking their way. "Stay on the hill, I said, I think I was clear about that!"
"Easy, Knock, we were just going to—"
"—stay on the hill?"
"Um. Yes. Right. That's . . . exactly what we're gonna do."
"Good."
"Whoa," Smokescreen commented, watching Knock Out stalk away. "Intense."
Bulkhead just chuckled. "He's just worried about trying to keep an eye on so many people at once."
Smokescreen nodded. It was true, there was quite a crowd at the hot spot. Himself, Bulkhead and Miko, Arcee and Jack, and, unexpectedly, Ratchet. Smokescreen kind of thought it was Ratchet who was really getting on the shiny red mech's nerves, though. Just something about the glances Knock Out kept shooting him. "Hey, what happened to Bumblebee and Raf? Can't believe they'd miss this."
"Raf called and said he had the flu or something," Miko said, fiddling with the small white device strapped to her wrist. Wheeljack had invented a device that maintained a small, artificial "Earthen" atmosphere around the humans, provided they wore the small, round discs on their ankles and wrists. Arcee insisted that the children wear oxygenated facemasks anyway, just in case. "Just in case" was always a good precaution to take with Wheeljack's inventions. "And Bumblebee didn't want to go without him, I guess."
"Miko, are you sure you should be messing with that thing?" Bulkhead asked. "I don't want you choking to death."
"Aw, Bulk."
"He's right. Unless you think it would be fun dying on an alien planet," Arcee said, walking up.
"Hey Jack, what do you think of our baby-bots, huh?" Smokescreen grinned.
"Hey, Smokescreen. They're really . . . metallic?" Jack scrubbed his hand on the back of his head.
"Yeah, they're pretty cute—uh oh, doctor fight!" Everyone looked down the hill to see Ratchet and Knock Out glaring at each other. They were too far away to hear, but they were clearly arguing. The older mech kept pointing out at the pre-forms while the shiny red medic kept his arms crossed and shoulders hunched right up to the point where he snapped and started gesticulating so fast his hands were a blur, leaning forward to challenge Ratchet.
Miko put her hands to either side of her mouth and bellowed, "NOW KISS!"
The glare that both bots gave as they swirled around was pretty priceless.
"Humans . . . Really," Knock Out growled as he stalked back to the group.
"Ha! Got you that time, arch-nemesis!" Miko grinned triumphantly.
"Ha. Ha ha ha."
"Miko," Ratchet said, "I'm going to ask Agent Fowler to give you fewer lessons on blowing things up and more on manners."
"Pffft."
"What were you two fighting about, anyway?" Arcee asked, curious.
"We weren't fighting, we were merely . . . disagreeing," Ratchet said.
"Strongly," Knock Out muttered. "As a matter of fact—what is it, Smokescreen?"
"I see one," Smokescreen said in a hushed voice. "I see a protoform."
Instantly everyone was on high alert, none moreso than the two medics.
"What?" Ratchet demanded. "Where?"
Smokescreen pointed. It was all the way over at the base of another hill, a silvery bipedal figure wandering through the brush, occasionally crouching to poke at the brush, or standing on tiptoe to look around. Its movements were just a little bit jerky and uncertain.
Ratchet picked up Jack to give him a better view. "Whoa," the boy said, "that's . . . that's . . ."
"Totally creepy," Miko said. "WOW."
"What?"
"Creepy?"
"How can you say that?" Smokescreen said, pointing to the protoform as it picked up a metallic twig and testingly licked it. "That's, like, the cutest thing I've ever seen."
"You really don't like it?" Bulkhead sounded bewildered.
"I didn't say I didn't like it, I said it was creepy. Jack, back me up here."
"Uhhh . . ."
"Well, Jack?" Arcee crossed her arms.
"I'm sorry, guys, but . . . I'm kind of weirded out by it too."
"Humans!" Knock Out threw his arms in the air. "They have no appreciation for what we are." He gave Ratchet a look.
"It's not that I'm not happy for you guys," Jack said hastily. "I think it's awesome that you're having, uh . . . children? I guess?"
Ratchet broke off his glaring contest with Knock Out to answer. "More or less. Offspring. Yes. Although they are far more independent and self-sustaining than human offspring."
Knock Out nodded. "Precocial."
"Gesundheit!" Miko replied cheerfully.
" . . . never mind."
A/N: Precocial animals would include any species that's fairly well-developed and able to walk on its own soon after birth. For example, baby quail (remember them trailing after their mother in "Bambi"?). As opposed to baby robins, that are born naked and ugly and are helpless for a long time.
Some precocial babus still depend on their parents to some extent, others really don't need them at all.
