Nature of the Beast
One-Shot Series: To Catch an Avioid
Part 8: Hakuna Matata
[Smokescreen? You have some visitors.]
The Elite Guardsmech recuperating in Knockout's clinic was glad of the distraction a visit would bring, and even gladder that Charity was the one telling him. People watching and eavesdropping and occasionally ringing up friends for a casual conversation was great and all, but in-person visits he liked the most despite them being a little more rare. Charity was a teeny bit protective of him owing to his condition, and thus he was only allowed a few visits every solar cycle. Personally he thought he was doing a lot better than a couple deca-cycles ago – he could actually move without setting off all of his neurodes now.
He half expected Bulkhead, Arcee, or Wheeljack to come marching in. Bumblebee stopped by almost daily to swap a story or two with him, some funny and some grim. In many ways he was more reliable than any media outlet – his personal reporter, unbiased and unfiltered. It was nice to see he wasn't letting the whole beat cop thing get him down.
What clopped into the room made him blink, for it was a far cry from his usual visitors: two Equinines in their beast forms made their way in one behind the other, and he recognized both. The bestial duo stood across from him, looking at him squarely in the optics. There was something in the dark bronze beast's yellow optics that, if it wasn't shame, was at least something very near to it. One hoof shuffled awkwardly. The white Equinine's horn was unlit, only its tip burning like a hot rod dipped in a foundry forge.
"Flame-Horn? Trailblazer?" he gaped. He sat up a little too quickly and winced.
The pristine white, horned beast stamped a single hoof and lowered his helm in polite greeting. Trailblazer mimicked him.
"Lieutenant Smokescreen," Flame-Horn said. "I came here to formally apologize for what occurred on Axsixtic Edge."
Smokescreen stared. Well, this solar cycle was off to a strange if positive start. He said nothing in return. He got the sense Flame-Horn and Trailblazer wanted to elaborate further.
"While my tribe is known for being volatile, quick to flare like many Predacons, we pride ourselves on never damaging our opponents beyond immediate repair. Our strategy was one of intimidating diplomacy. We were not there to start a firefight. I sincerely regret you were harmed. That was not our intent. My herd reacted only when we realized diplomacy was no longer an option. At that point we felt the only way to free Fireflight was through force."
At Flame-Horn's side, Trailblazer scuffed a hoof against the smooth floor, "I regret what I did, lieutenant. Thing with a lot of Predacons is that once you get our fires good and stoked it's hard to bring them back down. Fireflight's like a brother to me. I couldn't stand his being locked away in the Canyons for a crime committed in all innocence. No Equinine does well within walls. Any Avioid or Blue Moon Canipid would say the same. But those Canyon Dwellers – they were being so uselessly stubborn. Implying we couldn't be trusted? I...I snapped. I am sorry. I would have come sooner to make amends but my Lyrvin only just concluded a few solar cycles ago and –"
"And you guys don't like groundbridges, so it takes longer for you to get around. I know. Not a problem. Don't worry about it. You came in the end."
Trailblazer's burning optics flickered in surprise. He'd expected Smokescreen to be irate with him or at any rate upset, but he seemed very relaxed. It was hard for him to know whether that was the result of the painkillers or genuine acceptance. Even more surprising was the thin, wry, but genuine smile that formed at his expressed bewilderment.
"Honestly, I'm not mad at you. Either of you. I get why you reacted the way you did," Smokescreen said. "If somebody basically kidnapped my little bro for making an honest mistake I'd be flaming mad, too. To be honest I'm mad at myself. I was sent there with Chromia and Jazz to help their Guard get that situation under control and instead it exploded in our faceplates. Because of that your kind's under more scrutiny than you already were. I made this whole racial tension issue worse by failing. I'm the one who should be saying he's sorry. Your lives just got that much harder."
"That is a noble sentiment," admitted the horned beast. "You harbor no ill will over this?"
Smokescreen shrugged: "Not really, no. Like I said, I'm mad at myself, not at you guys. Forget about it. It's in the past. No going back and changing it or anything. Hakuna matata and all that."
The two beast-formers gave him puzzled looks, helms tilting to one side in unison. Those were not Cybertronian words they knew of. Smokescreen grinned and laughed a little.
"Sorry, sorry. Earth words. African. Swahili. Just means not to worry. Nothing we can do to change what happened so just learn what you can from it, forget about it, and move on. Seriously, you don't need to harp on this."
Their puzzled expressions lifted. Trailblazer exchanged a startled look with Flame-Horn who looked like he'd just suffered an epiphany of some sort. Then the fiery white Charger bowed his helm again. Smokescreen had to admit this Predacon was a pretty nice guy all around when he wasn't driven into a protective berserker frenzy. Predaking was like that, too. Yet another question to ask Zodiac when he called her up: was there some sort of societal code that forbade an alpha to express rudeness in a private setting? He only knew two alphas so far. That wasn't a lot to go making guess from. Hopefully he could add more at some point in the near future. He prayed he'd be well enough to attend that meeting of the two councils.
"Htep lux tlakfo Æfæn, wundin i'ilohem." said the alpha beast.
Now it was Smokescreen's turn to tilt his helm in clueless inquisitiveness. Only one word he knew the definition of, but it didn't exactly clear up what the beast-former had said to him. "Æfæn" was a word borrowed from the ancient Predacons and used by both beast and mech of this age, and the deceptively simple word had a couple of different meanings, each dependent on context. He didn't know the context in this. In fact, he knew next to nothing about the Predacon language other than a few words and phrases. It didn't sound mean though. The alpha Charger had said it very politely.
And instead of translating, Flame-Horn stamped a hoof lightly against the floor and turned to leave, a small bucking toss of his helm resulting in Trailblazer following him. The blue and yellow mech shuttered his optics in a rapid, startled blink and stared at the now empty threshold.
The Elite Guardsmech sat there on the medical berth and thought about the peculiar phrase for nearly three breems uninterrupted, but in the end was forced to draw a complete blank. He felt, for some strange, inexplicable reason that held no ready explanation, that he should know not just one word – but two. He felt he'd heard it somewhere else. Recently. But that was stupid. He knew only one word, and even then he didn't know the context for it. How could you know something without knowing what it was you knew? Should he know this mysterious second word through transfer he felt he should be able to pin a digit on it at once, along with where it was he'd heard it. And he couldn't.
'Hey!' Smokescreen thought as an idea assailed him, 'That's something I could put to Magnus! If we got some Predacons to teach their language to the Guards of the cities that might make bridging the gap a little easier! Some of the Academies teach modern and ancient Predacon, I think. Maybe we could rope them in, too!'
Not willing to put the notion off, he opened up a channel back to Ultra Magnus.
[Smokescreen? If you're requesting to be returned to duty, my answer is again 'No.' Until I get a clean slate of health from Knockout or Charity you are remaining on medical leave.]
"No, no, no, no. I'm not calling you to beg you to let me out of the doghouse for gazillionth time. I got an idea I wanted to share. Flame-Horn and Trailblazer caused it when they visited."
[And what idea would that be?]
He explained.
[A Predacon language course as an optional part of basic training, and as a refresher course for field operatives?] repeated Ultra Magnus. [That...it would be difficult, I admit, but it is not an entirely ill-conceived proposal. Some Academies do teach ancient Predacon in conjunction with their cultural courses, but education on their modern dialects are few and far between. I will discuss this with Chromia and a handful of my higher-ranking officers. Should we receive a majority rule I see no reason why this should not take effect. It could ease the tension between the Predacus tribes and the Guard.]
"Thanks. Any word from Predaking about that council meet-up yet, sir? He still in hiatus on it or what?"
[He did inform me that it will have to be within the next four or five lunar cycles. Ammonia ice storms will sweep in from further north and force the Predacons, visiting or native, into the Underworld to escape them. Prey for the hunters will become scarcer.]
That was yet another thing he didn't fully understand. Certain models of Predacons refused to take advantage of the natural springs, pools, and rivers of Energon that flowed across Cybertron, electing instead to obtain their fuel through hunting of non-sentient creatures like scraplets, razorsnakes, and other such wildlife. Literally, free fuel was freaking right in front of them and they basically turned their snouts up at it. He didn't get that. It was right there – why not take advantage of it? He noted the question and stored it away in long-term. Zodiac might know the question to that; from what little he knew of the model from the Hall of Records a lot of Avioids were based on raptor species.
A peculiar image formed in his helm as he thought about that: Zodiac diving after a razorsnake, cleanly terminating it, and flying off.
That image just didn't click. Hard to imagine an introverted, slightly paranoid astronomer as a hunter.
[However, it will take time for word of the meeting to disperse to the other tribes through messenger, and it will take time for the the alpha and their selected envoys to reach their destination depending on how far they are from Iacon.]
Add another question to the list: why did Predacons not use comm. relays like everyone else? Or did they within the tribe and just not outside of it? And for that matter – why did a majority of Predacons not like groundbridges? He knew they didn't owing to interaction with Predaking's Well Guardians, but why did they not like them? That was the real question. Predaking, Darksteel, and Skylynx had used them before and hadn't had any real issue with them. That had never been explained. Groundbridging was the easiest means of traveling long distances on the face of the planet, and they were pretty darned safe.
"Okay. Thanks for the update, chief. Could you keep me posted on the meeting status?"
[So you may keep your mysterious acquaintance informed?] Magnus asked astutely.
Smokescreen laughed a little and admitted that was the case.
"She...doesn't like surprises very much," he clarified humorously, "Trust me on that."
[Very well.]
The line was severed.
And his boredom came roaring back with a vengeance.
He groaned. That was the worst part about being visited in a clinic: when the person left you realized just how bored you'd been before they'd come.
About four breems passed by uneventfully. During those four breems he had started pacing in a short circuit in the room. At that point, Smokescreen was seriously debating trying to sneak out. In his opinion, he could walk – so he could do at least some basic tasks for the Guard while he was cooped up here. Surely he could help with mission write-ups or something, right? That didn't require him to be out the field.
His thoughts snapped away from boredom on hearing the distinct rhythmic clanking of multiple limbs hitting the ground, accented by light taps. Charity had mentioned a Predacon was an in-patient in the clinic not too long ago. Missing wing on behalf of a scraplet attack if his memory banks served him. Took a while to make a wing, so he had to still be here. Now what was the mech's name...? Rippersnapper? No. That wasn't it. Rip – the name started with Rip. He remembered that. So what...? Riplaw. Yeah, that was it. Ripclaw! He paused in his pacing and turned a curious optic to the hall beyond. As he watched the open doorway a very strange looking Predacon padded by, and that wasn't counting the fact the beast had only one wing. Ripclaw was an odd looking creature for sure. His helm, forepaws, and and upper mantle resembled a predatory avian, his helm bearing a somewhat decorative plume in place of a crest that was at present laid back; from his withers to his croup his body was a lot more reptilian; his back legs more resembled some kind of big, lean cat, and his tail had a feathered plume sort of like Darksteel's. One feathered wing was folded against the beast's side. On his shoulder was the snarling visage of the Well Guardians.
For a moment he just stared. He had no idea what in the name of Primus he was even looking at. Some kind of Fuzor, for sure, but not a true Chimeran like Skylynx.
"Hey!" he called out.
The Predacon squawked and jumped, plume rising. Wide, somewhat suspicious yellow optics appraised him.
"Ripclaw, right?"
The Fuzor blinked. "Yeah." His voice print was harsh and a bit raspy, like a rooster with a sore throat. Iaconian dialect would be hard on such a voice in his opinion. His Kaonian was a bit rusty, but he switched to that instead.
"You okay? No one giving you any problems here?"
Ripclaw noticed the switch in dialect. His plume lowered. Suspicion flashed in his yellow gaze.
"What's it to you, city-dweller?"
"Just asking," Smokescreen insisted calmly, "I know you guys have it rough when you come into the cities. I'm not one of the jerks who hates on your kind for no reason. Push comes to shove you guys are more decent than we are, and a Pit of a lot braver. Predaking said he wasn't gonna help us fight off Unicron's army, and in the end he did – and brought 'Steel and 'Lynx along for the ride. Most 'bots prob'ly would've turned and bailed at the first sight of the horde. Knockout sure as heck tried to."
This statement made the plume rise again. Ripclaw padded into the room.
"You...you battled with Predaking against the Kogu'ala Bivoto? The Chaos-Bringer?"
"Uh, yeah. Pretty much. So did the rest of the team. Arcee, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, 'Bee, Optimus..."
"Strange. Predaking never mentioned you."
Smokescreen snorted, "'Course he wouldn't. He doesn't like me or my Phase Shifter. He thinks using it is cheating and so he views me as an unrepentant little jerk. On his good days he tolerates me. On his bad ones he either yells at me or just ignores me. Honestly, most of my knowledge of Predacons comes from data pads or Mr. Chuckles and Mr. Sourpuss. Y'know. Darksteel and Skylynx. I mostly get along with 'Steel 'cause he's not so much a total downer all the time. Guy actually has a sense of humor."
"Oh," said Ripclaw. "His adjuncts. Yeah, they're chattier with city-dwellers than Predaking usually is."
"So..." the young Elite Guardsmech eyed the Fuzor's bare side curiously. "How'd that happen?"
Ripclaw let out a strange hiss that sounded partly like a jaguar and partly like a really slagging big snake. There was also, very faintly, what sounded like a bird-like keen at the very back of the sound.
"Was out hunting. Tracked a set of razorsnakes and wound up stumbling into a small scraplet nest. Fought 'em off, but not before they'd chewed right through my wing. Walked back to camp. Stormchaser had a look at it, tidied it up. Went about my business as usual until Ser-Ket finally told me to go get it looked at. You?"
"Fell into the Sonic Canyons after a Charger rammed me like a freight train. Somehow didn't die."
Two yellow optics widened.
"Hyal reltem'tek. You sure you aren't part Predacon?"
Smokescreen laughed.
"Hey, when I develop the ability to breathe fire, get super senses and a temper – I'll let you know."
Author's Note: Yeah, this is really all I can manage this week. Maybe a "Remembrance" one-shot if I've got some more spare time. So. Busy. Oh, and I also did my two tests today on five hours of sleep. And I actually did really good. On the Art one I only know for sure I might've missed one, and the Psych one wasn't as crazy as I thought it would be. :D So...go me?
