I do not own Transformers, only my plot and OC.
Chapter 8
I couldn't tell what was worse – the warm, luxurious feeling of a bed I never wanted to leave, or the fact that I'd been made a human sandwich in order to feel that way.
Ironhide had folded the mattress-seat around me.
"Afraid I might escape?"
Something tickled my feet and I squirmed. "I don't need you turning my cabin into a bounce house."
The mattress barely moved when I push against it. On a better day I might have cracked a joke in return, but not tonight. My heart was far too heavy for games, though it seemed Ironhide felt differently.
"How long are you planning to mope?" He asked.
"How long have you known me?"
I sank like quicksand into a void and was completely immobilized.
"Real funny." I tried to worm my way free but he held too tight. I couldn't move more than a hairs breadth before he readjusted. "Come on, Ironhide," I complained.
"You're letting an illusion command your life," he said.
"I had a bad dream just this afternoon. We spent all day discussing it, not to mention I now have a broken nose, and you want me to forget it ever happened?"
The mattress whacked me on the head before lifting away. "It was just a dream. Don't confuse it with reality."
"Nose," I pointed at the offending appendage.
"Your sudden desire to sleep walk is a problem, but your focusing on it is even worse."
"You don't understand."
"Than explain."
I didn't know how and I wasn't sure I wanted to try. I just had this ominous feeling. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was taking the dream too seriously. It was such a silly thing - a poorly written horror flick with a ridiculously bad plot twist. It was the sort of thing my friends and I would laugh about over a bowl of popcorn and far too much cola, and yet I could not shake this feeling Annabelle had stirred up within me.
This feeling of having too little time.
"Melry?"
"It's nothing."
It was just a hug, I told myself. I had received at least a billion of them from Anna since moving in with my relatives. This last one shouldn't have been any different. It was filled with just as much love as any.
The world suddenly flipped and I found myself on my back, staring up at the ceiling. "Quit being a bolt biter," Ironhide scorned.
If he kept that up I'd find a bolt cutter.
My feet met his ceiling with more gentleness than he deserved. My neon colored socks were a stark contrast to his gray cabin. They brought back memories of happier times. They'd been a gag gift from Jessy when I had visited the gang in Texas last year for the holidays. She'd painted super deformed robots all over them. One even looked a bit like Ironhide.
The thought of seeing Jessy again eased my spirits. I would have to make plans with her once I returned to Florida. Our schools were only a few hours apart.
Warm rollers slowly ran down the length of my back.
I cooed, despite myself. It felt so good.
"I think I can offer a better distraction than your feet," his voice a pitch deeper than normal
Oh, I knew he could.
xXxXxXxXxXx
"What in the name of Primus have you done!"
A small moan rolled off my lips as I stretched. I felt exquisite, which was more than I could say about Mudflap and Skids.
"I-it was an accident," the Autobot twins insisted in near unison.
"An accident!?" Ratchet roared.
I had to admit, they had done a fine job of destroying Ratchet's work station. Not a single instrument was left unbroken.
"When did they get back?" I asked Ironhide.
He only shrugged, a motion I scarcely caught from atop his helm. We didn't stick around to see what would become of them. There was something else we had to do.
Que had roused us from our slumber this morning to ask Ironhide if he could stop by. If we hadn't slept so well I would have been annoyed. I hadn't felt this refreshed in ages. The ails of yesterday seemed but a distant memory, albeit with the help of painkillers.
"What's with the early morning wakeup call?" Ironhide asked when we entered the science wing.
"Apologies, I am not accustomed to your late morning starts." There was an unusual edge to Que's voice.
"With this one," Ironhide jabbed his thumb in my direction, "the chances are high."
"I will keep that in mind for the future. I trust you are feeling better, Melry?"
I nodded.
"Splendid." The spirited response quickly turned to bewilderment, but before I could question him he continued. "That circuit board The Director brought in yesterday is quite unusual. I don't know what to make of it."
He shuffled over to what remained of his supply closet.
"I'm not a scientist, Que."
"You are far more versatile than you give yourself credit for. You've seen much in your time of service."
"Seen, not studied."
"Yes, well, that may be all I need at the moment."
He laid an object as large as I was broad on the workbench. Its dark surface was littered with numerous burgundy ridges and bands, and appeared to have been violently removed from its central device. Any wires that had once been attached were gone, save one, which clung desperately to a badly cracked sector.
Whatever it was, it was definitely Cybertronian. The strange design of the circuitry was far too iconic to miss. Human-made boards were much simpler in comparison
"I haven't a clue," Ironhide eventually said. "You've had it less than twenty-four hours. What's got your gasket in a clog?"
"This board doesn't make sense," the scientist muttered. "There are patterns, like this one," he pointed to one of many circuit 'pathways,' "that should have rendered the board unusable, yet what little I've been able to gleam from its surface says otherwise. Whatever it once served must have been truly unique."
Ironhide made a small noise and picked the board up for closer inspection.
"I fear this is a project better suited for Wheeljack."
"Maybe," Ironhide agreed, "but we have you."
The comment did nothing to encourage him.
"What if it only half worked," I piped up. "I can't tell you how many times I've been tempted to destroy a defective device and the Decepticons have less patience than I."
He wasn't unconvinced.
"Ever thought of trying to re-create it?"
That seemed to do the trick. The brightness I had come to expect within his optics returned, like the ticking of a great old clock left unwound for far too long.
"It will have to wait." Optimus startled us with his presence. "Ratchet requires our assistance. The Director's project can come later."
Try telling her that, I thought.
Ironhide deposited me on the second floor balcony on the way out. Not for the first time I found myself wishing I could help. If only I wasn't human.
Dino helped Ratchet separate devices that could be repaired from those that were now scrap. The others picked apart debris. Thoughts of yesterday floated through my mind as I watched them. The circuit board was a strange thing. Now I really wanted to know what that meeting had been about. Where had Mearing found it? It wasn't every day The Director demanded every available Autobot be present.
Don't run around the world and meddle in our affairs just because you want to, Dino's voice rolled through my mind.
I groaned. Dino, always Dino! Curse that narcissistic brute and his petty logic.
My hand ached as if in memory. I scowled at myself. The day had started off on a good note. I wasn't going to let the Autobot destroy it.
Everything was okay. Ratchet had caught my bad-luck virus and he could give it to someone else. The twins would be perfect. They could remove it from this country. Out of this world even, for all I cared. I didn't want it back. I had better things to do. Which reminded me of a homework assignment I had neglected all vacation, from the Wreckers no less. The trio could shove it too, but I suppose their project would offer a decent distraction while Ironhide was busy.
I suppose it was a good thing I had left it in my uncle's office… all over his desk a few days ago.
Oops.
xXxXxXxXx
Que laughed when I zapped myself yet again. I had lost count of the number of time I had done that in the last hour.
"We might need to get you gloves."
"Yeah, no kidding." I shook my hand out.
My personal project time had turned into a learning experience. It was a pleasant surprise. He had caught me heading off with my toolbox a little over an hour ago and invited me into his work area. Normally I would have said no because of the hazards, but I figured repairing tools was the least dangerous thing he could do. I wasn't wrong.
"It's a bit hard at your size, but try and splice those wires again."
I was working with tools that were larger than normal. Everything was harder. It was fun though.
Que had been about as enthused about my homework assignment as I had been when I received it. He knew full well what I was capable of. He'd seen Little Ironhide, an R/C I had made years ago and my skills had grown considerably since then. What the Wreckers' had given me was worthy of a kids summer camp. He insisted I join him and ignore the project.
"Now this little gadget controls the temperature output." He held up a new component. "You don't want to accidentally fry the servos you're trying to fix."
"I'd imagine that would make it difficult to test your explosive devices," I teased. Fingers were a little important when it came to these things.
"Difficult to reconstruct them too."
He was such a good sport and his passion for science and mechanics showed. He took great pride in teaching and had no issues backtracking to solidify a lesson, even if it meant dismantling what he had just repaired. It was such a difference from the Wreckers, who were quick to scorn if a lesson wasn't mastered on the first attempt. Que never raised his voice either and if he ever chided me it was done with humor because he wanted to spawn laughter and clear my mind of frustration.
He reminded me of my father, in that way.
"Why don't you try connecting everything up now," Que said after placing the component where it belonged.
A part of me was afraid I would destroy something, but I had to learn somehow I guess. Que waited patiently as I gathered the tools I needed and then watched when I went about fastening and connecting all the pieces. It took longer than it should have. I accidentally pinched my finger in one area and somehow damaged a wire in another, making for even more repairs, but I eventually finished.
"Well done," Que applauded. "Now let's see if it works."
My heart was in my mouth as he reattached the outer shell and turned on the welder. A dull hum was the first sign it gave. I found myself leaning forward, willing the next step to initiate. The handle slowly but steadily came alive, glowing brighter and brighter as the energon cells powered. A push of a button ignited the flame.
It worked!
I had to refrain from dancing while Que fiddled with it. We had spent an entire hour on it. It had been the least damaged of the tools too. I didn't care if Que could repaired it in ten minutes. I did it! I was slow, but I did it!
"It's a touch slow on the start," he said, "but other than that it's working marvelously."
Well that figured. My shoulders slumped. "Any idea what's causing the problem?"
"The fuel injector controls, more than likely. A simple fix." He turned the welder off and cracked open the shell. "The contact pads for the mechanism aren't fully connecting." He demonstrated his meaning by pressing the activation button. Sure enough, the two pads met at the center but not the edges.
"It's a small gap," Que reasoned, "Nothing critical. But if left in this state the pads risk burning out."
"Would curving fix that?"
"Precisely what I was about to recommend," he smiled.
After a bit of struggling and resorting to the use of heat, the plates finally connected. Que gave it one final test before putting it aside.
At this Ratchet would have his desk back in decade, maybe two.
"If you were my teacher, Que, I think I'd be light years ahead of where I am now. I've learned so much today."
"And I from you."
I let out a sharp snort. "I doubt that."
"To be honest, Melry, I think Leadfoot is doing an exceptional job. Your understanding of our technology has grown significantly since I arrived."
I glanced at the welder. The only tool we had repaired so far. "That's debatable."
"Haste is not everything." He picked up another broken contraption and placed it before me. "I've had millennia to practice. You have only just begun."
