Fandom: Transformers Bayverse (post RotF AU)
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Codes: Slash, Het, Femslash

Summary: Ratchet and Prime both find out a few things about their guest that Jazz knew, and had the sense not to say.

Note: According to the RotF bios, Skywarp is the highly intelligent, somewhat lab-locked scientist of the Elite Trine. After reading that, I don't think any of us have the right to bitch about *fans* making chars OOC. So I figured it made sense that he, and not Starscream, would be Skyfire's pre-war exploration/science partner.

A Wolf in the Fold 10: Medical Sociology

Prime took in the med-bay with a critical eye. Ratchet had First Aid bustling about, getting equipment and supplies or just staying out of the way. DerRitter seemed to be trying his best to look relaxed as he leaned against the wall near the door. It didn't take much experience to see that he was anything but relaxed. His optics darted everywhere, and as Prime continued to watch him out of the corner of his optics, a definite pattern emerged. One meant to take in as much detail as possible and cover the highest number of potential hazards in the shortest amount of time.

For all she was agreeable and compliant to Ratchet, Mary didn't look any more relaxed than her protector. Her focus was singular however, to a point that led to a corner of the barracks, then the sparring field, and into the desert. No doubt somewhere on that line Nightshade was just as fixated here.

"Who's the African?" Prime asked conversationally while Ratchet studied readings and compared them to Nightshade and other former humans as well as Cybertronian standards. He was fully aware that Mirage was in the room and invisible, but it wouldn't change what he was doing much.

"The first one like me that I met," she said easily, relaxing as much as she could and watching as Prime sat down on the berth next to hers. "She goes by Kesia. A lioness in the way I'm a bear and Nightshade's a wolf. She was raiding for metals when I finally caught her and chased her out of Europe. She keeps sending her pride to raid for her, at least according to my sources. As long as she stays off my turf, it doesn't demand my immediate attention."

"That demand for immediate attention is similar to what just happened with Nightshade?" Prime considered the possibility, a very disturbing one to him. A group that aggressively territorial could be more dangerous than the Decepticons if they encountered the wrong triggers.

"If you mean intense, instinctive and nearly impossible to control, yes," she nodded politely, then glanced at Ratchet when he huffed.

"Do you know where Kesia is now?" Ratchet asked, his optics on his readouts.

"Africa," she said, them smiled at his annoyance. "As long as she stays out of Europe, I don't track her that closely. I have enough to deal with in my own yard."

"Understandable," Prime said agreeably. "Do you know of any others?"

"Rumor, no facts," she shook her head. "I've heard of a tiger in Siberia and a dragon in India and Asia. I expect there's someone in Australia and in South America, but no word on what, much less who. I wouldn't be surprised if there are a few aquatics as well, but again, nothing that's even a rumor yet in my area."

"Aquatic?" Ratchet was now fully focused on her.

"This planet is seventy percent water," Mary gave him an indulgent look. "I expect any network designed to protect it would have aquatic members."

"What makes you believe your group is meant to protect Earth?" Prime asked with keen interest, even more so when Mary laughed playfully.

"You did see how Nightshade responded to a perceived threat to his domain?" Her smiled was becoming a grin. "I don't suppose you've taken him out of North America yet?"

"Not yet," he acknowledged, still uncertain where this was going.

"You probably don't want to, for a couple reasons," she settled in to a briefing mode. "Judging from my reactions when I leave my territory, and the response of three of us when someone comes into ours, it's an invitation to violence. Nightshade would have killed me if he could. I would have killed Kesia if I'd caught her, and she definitely tried to kill me when we crossed into Africa."

"You have significant self-control to battle Nightshade and not give in to the urge to kill," Prime inclined his head in both respect and appreciation. "Yet you are little older than him."

Mary smiled at him, a secretive little smile and leaned over a bit. "I'd be willing to bet the answer to any question that his life didn't depend on it before."

Ratchet made a small warning sound but otherwise continued to be largely invisible in his study of their guest and her guard.

"He didn't as far as we know," Prime acknowledged.

Mary's smile deepened into a playfully seductive one. "Does that mean I have my question answered?"

"I will answer if I can," Prime promised, though it was nothing he wouldn't do for any potential ally.

"Close enough," Mary chuckled lightly and leaned back, braced against her outstretched hands. "How long do you plan to stay on Earth?" she motioned around her, encompassing everything.

"As long as we are welcome here," Prime answered honestly. "Cybertron is no more."

All the good humor vanished from Mary in a sparkbeat.

"War or age?" she asked softly and reached out to place her hand gently over his in a decidedly human gesture of comfort.

"War," he said, his deep voice laced with pain and grief. "A war we brought here, and have, with hope, neared the end of."

Mary regarded him for a long, silent moment.

"Do you plan to kill or convert the survivors?" she asked almost cautiously.

"If any will convert, they will be welcome," Prime answered with hope, but no expectation.

She nodded slightly and made a small click so he looked directly at her. "Show me who, I'll tell you where."

The statement earned her an almost curious and slightly surprised look.

"I'm not as ignorant of your battles as you might think," she smiled slyly. "It was my focus before I became this. Now, it's my life."

"How much do you know?" Prime looked at her with a carefully neutral expression. "That we didn't tell you," he added.

Mary considered the question, the situation, and nodded.

"In 1897 a giant robot and a cube that radiated energy were discovered in the artic by a US expedition, prompting the creation of Sector 7 by the US and many comparable agencies and departments around the world. The alien and cube were recovered and moved several times before finally being imprisoned under Boulder Dam as it was constructed in the early 1930's. Now it's known the robot was Lord Megatron of the Decepticons, and the cube was the Allspark. Both are considered destroyed.

"In 1903 a second giant robot was discovered by a German expedition. Reverse engineering it led to much of the technology Germany developed for the two World Wars. Britain claimed it as a spoil of war in 1945, largely because we found it first."

"Where is he now?" Prime tried to keep the tension from his voice.

"Paperwork is being processed for transfer to my unit," Mary gave him a slight smile of reassurance. "I'm fairly sure he's an Autobot, at least in design. I wouldn't mind knowing his name before he wakes up."

Prime considered her, what he knew and what he didn't know. "If he's Decepticon?"

"I'll kill him with as little damage to the rest of the body as possible," she shrugged. "I can't find either insignia on him anywhere, in records or when I looked in person. I don't suppose you have pictures of your MIA officers?"

"Too many," Prime said grimly. "What can you describe of him?"

"Twenty two point four two one six meters tall, eight point four five metric tonnes, white with red markings, a probable air or space craft vehicle form, though I can't be sure," she rattled off the basic stats she knew. "How much does that narrow things down?"

"A great deal," Jazz said as he walked in with a now visible Mirage. "How's the tension?"

"Better," she inclined her head to him. "Where did you send him?"

Jazz cocked a grin. "I asked him and Tred Bolt to do a full low altitude sweep of North America. It should take them a day or two, longer if they spot something interesting or Nightshade gets into flight practice. The mech does love to fly, even if he can't land yet," he chuckled at the memories. "Only three MIAs meet that basic description, but you said he didn't have any insignia?"

"Not that has been found," she nodded cautiously.

"That eliminates actual Autobots and Decepticons," Jazz told her. "It doesn't eliminate all the friendly MIAs, however. Six others never returned from deep space missions and never left a clue where they had crashed. I don't believe it's any of them. I believe his name is Skyfire. He was reported lost and deactivated on this world well before the war began."

"Do you have a picture of him?" Mary asked, noting the shocked stiffness in Prime's frame.

Jazz brought a small circular device from his subspace and turned it on. Immediately a holographic image of a soft-optic, finely-featured and very tall mech appeared standing next to a black and blue Cybertronian Seeker.

"That's my ice cube," Mary said with certainty. "So what can you tell me about him?"

"Skyfire's an explorer and scientist. He did more work gathering and organizing data than actual projects. Too well educated to be an assistant, but not quite the processor-set to be lead," Jazz summed it up.

"Then he is likely to listen before shooting," Mary sounded as relieved as she looked. "Always a plus."

"I would like to be there when you wake him," Prime said firmly, and was privately surprised to meet no resistance.

"It would be very welcome," she smiled over at him. "Would you be someone he'd recognize?"

"Optimus was Prime before Skyfire left on his last exploratory mission," Mirage spoke up. "He should recognize him, though there is no guarantee those memories will be easily accessed, or still intact."

"It's better than nothing," Mary pointed out calmly. "Besides, it's only fair to show you my place after you've welcomed me here. I'll have something resembling a proper med-bay set up by then," she promised with a look at Ratchet, who hrumphed in acceptance.

"So, are you done with our guest?" Mirage asked Ratchet with unusual directness.

The CMO raised an optic ridge and nodded. "As much as she'll trust me with today."

"Trust you with?" Jazz gave her curious look.

"A direct link to my memory banks? I don't think so," Mary said dryly and hopped down from the berth.

"I'm a medical professional," Ratchet repeated stiffly.

"Yes, a doctor. I know," she replied smoothly. "Look up what Nazi doctors did in the name of medicine sometime and maybe you'll get the lack of trust until I'm sure of you beyond your title. Whatever you believe in, I've had the misfortune to be raised by a species with no morals at all."

"Many humans we have encountered are honorable," Prime stood as he objected.

"I'm not sure if that makes you extremely lucky, me extremely unlucky, or your standards deplorably low," Mary turned to face him, hand on her hips.

"Mary," Jazz spoke up, an unusual sharpness in his voice that made her whirl to face the smaller mech. "When was the last time you even tried to talk to an outsider without an ulterior motive?"

She glared at him, back at Prime, and settled on Jazz again. "Point taken. Mine still stands with doctors."

"How dare..." Ratchet all but exploded, his processors unable to even find the curses in Cybertronian to express himself with as he made a hard lunge for Mary, only to be stopped by slamming into Prime as the larger mech stepped in the way.

"I think he just hit 'Nazi' on the net," Jazz took in the rare sight of the medic in a fully blind rage. Behind him he heard the heavy thudding of Ironhide rushing to find out what had gotten such a rise from his bonded.

"They're not the worst, just the best known," Mary said, watching the fury only escalate as more data on the atrocities committed by doctors flooded the CMO's processors. "Ratchet," she finally said in exasperation as Ironhide thundered into the room. "I didn't say you were one. I was making a point that 'doctor' and 'patient's best interest' do not go hand in hand on this planet. Especially not in my field."

Ironhide looked at Ratchet, then at her, Prime, Jazz and back to her.

"What the Pit did you say?" he demanded even as he stepped up and caught Ratchet across the shoulders and pulled him away from Prime, twisting to slam his bonded against the med-bay wall and pressed his body against the smaller mech to pin him.

"I told him to look up 'Nazi' to understand why I don't trust him at his title," she answered with a touch of annoyance.

It was quite enough to draw another roar of outrage from Ratchet, and a rumble of agreement from Ironhide.

"I'm sorry," Mary said suddenly, her voice somewhat soft.

It was unexpected enough to bring Ratchet up short, if only briefly.

"If you ever..." he sputtered.

"Point taken. You're still not plugging into me," she glared at him. "You don't have the clearance for half of what you asked for, much less what you could access."

"Don't have the clearance?" Ratchet stared at her in disbelief. "I'm the Chief Medical Officer!"

"Of Cybertron. Of the Autobots," she said calmly, locking optics with him. "Not of MI6. Not of my unit. You aren't even allied with the UK yet."

Ratchet glared at her, then at Ironhide, who was going his best to distract him.

"Just how far are you pushing your authority right now?" Prime asked as it finally registered that like Jenn, she hadn't surrendered her human allegiance when she surrendered her human body.

Mary regarded him evenly. "As far as I dare for now. I have tremendous latitude when it comes to my alliances and those under my command, and the methods I employ in doing my job. I cannot speak for my government."

"Who will deny you, and your unit, even exist, I expect," Jazz guessed.

"They'd do that even when I was human," Mary chuckled lightly. "It's the nature of the business and politics. You know that."

"I'm one of the few Autobots who will ever understand it," he cocked a grin at her. "Com'n. Let's introduce you around, and let 'Hide calm Ratchet down."

"Works for me," she nodded, though her expression wasn't as easy as her words.