Title: Dark Gift
Pairing(s): Megatron/Ratchet, Optimus/Ratchet
Warnings: Not a lot to worry about some more banter and an attempt at bad comedy. That need a warning all by itself.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing :sob: apart from some toys! And a filthy, filthy mind.
Summery:
AN: I AM SO, SO SORRY IT HAS TAKEN THIS LOONG TO GET THIS UP! I put it down to things getting in the way and me just being a lazy cow! The second part to 'Of Doctors and Drones.' After Ratchet's check-up, Soundwave lets him wander Nemesis with an escort. More character development and my attempt as some humour… mostly bad. I'm no James Roberts. Sadly and I am so so sorry for what I do and about to put you all though before I deliver you more smut… naaaah… not really….
Chapter 10: … and Drones
Upon leaving the med-bay, Soundwave had planned to give Ratchet a grand tour of the Nemesis, showing him places where he'd be able to go if he wanted to get out of Megatrons quarters. While he'd kept his silent vigil during the medical, Soundwave had composed a list of low risk areas that the mech would be allowed to go and might interest him. Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans. No sooner were they out of the med-bay, Soundwave received a call from the bridge, there were some computer correlation issues. It had been an ongoing problem that cropped up every so often and caused utter havoc to everyday life on board. Soundwave was the only one skilled enough to put the mess right, but it would likely take up the remainder of the day.
/Apologies: Soudwave needed: return Ratchet: To quarters/
"Do I have to go back just yet?" Ratchet almost whined, a disappointed look creeping over his faceplates.
/Affirmative/
"You know, you don't need to spark-sit me. I'm quite capable of exploring on my own."
/Negative: Ratchet: Requires escort/ Soundwave was not comfortable with letting the mech walk around unaccompanied, more for his own safety than anything else.
"I'm a big bot; I am fully capable of taking care of myself," Ratchet argued.
/Orders/ Soundwave said simply, Ratchet hummed in an amused tone.
"Megatron worrying about me is he?" he asked.
/Affirmative/ The lithe mech nodded and the doctor, in turn, laughed brightly.
"How sweet, but does it have to be you as my chaperone? Isn't there someone else that can show me around? Last time I looked you had quite a few bots on board. Surely they can't all be busy?"
The spy paused, Ratchet was quite right. There were plenty of bots around. It did seem rather cruel to march the mech back and leave him locked up in his master's quarters all alone for who knew how long. Perhaps it would do him good to have a bit of exercise, and a little exposure to the crew wouldn't hurt. It would help to solidify Ratchet's place, even if said place was only to be temporary. Dismissing the horrid thought the comm. officer sent a message to a couple of drones he knew he could trust. He informed Ratchet of the trouble on the bridge while they waited, and before long the two Vehicons arrived.
As they approached, Soundwave sent the two a data package each. It contained a quick list of do's and don'ts while acting as Ratchet's escort. As in Do be polite, respectful and courteous at all times and do not, under any circumstances, mention Optimus Prime. They were to contact him if anything was to go awry and they were not to let the mech out of their sight. They were only to be relived or dismissed by Soundwave or Megatron, no one else. In other words, do not let him go with Starscream.
Save for a few places that were not to go to, such as the armoury, engine room and other sensitive key areas, Ratchet was free to go wherever he wished. If they were unsure, they were to contact the TiC. Above all they were to ensure Ratchet's good mood and keep him entertained until ordered otherwise. With a gracious bow Soundwave turned and made his leave.
"Good luck," Ratchet called from behind, voice echoing off the walls.
"Where would you like to go sir?" One drone asked, drawing Ratchet's attention from the departed spy. This Vehicon had a number of large diagonal marks across his right shoulder and chest, like lines of quicksilver across the enamel of his torso. In the end, the effect made him look like he'd had a run in with an out of control welder and lost. Badly.
"I don't know," Ratchet replied with a shrug, "This is your ship. Where do you suggest?"
"Umm…" The welded drone looked at his companion as if asking for help. In comparison, the other mech looked like someone had kicked him into a barrel of scrap metal and rolled him down a very big hill. He was covered in a multitude of scratches, dings and had chipped paint everywhere.
"Well sir… we could take you to see the crystal garden, if you'd like?" The mech offered, uncertainty clear in his voice. Ratchet's optics cycled widely with disbelief.
"You have a crystal garden on board?!" he gasped, not quite believing what he'd heard. As far as he knew no crystal gardens had survived the destruction of Cybertron.
"I wouldn't get too excited sir- it's more of a… patch really." The scratched drone replied, somewhat sadly, "A few of us have been trying to make the seed crystals grow in our off time… we haven't been too successful."
"Even if that is the case, I would still like to see it." Ratchet said in earnest. With their destination chosen, the drones lead their charge way down into the bowels of the ship.
One of the smaller storage units had been converted into a makeshift sodo crystal nursery. It was pretty much how they described it. On one low tabletop in the centre of the room, under modified radiation lamps, a small patch of very young crystalline structures were forming. The only other furniture in the room was a cabinet of equipment for maintenance and benches around the walls for bots to sit and admire the plot.
Ratchet noted that there were several different types of minerals growing in the little garden, each a different colour and forming differently patterned structures. Judging form the undisturbed growth, he made an educated guess that they could only have been a few thousand years old. They were young but clearly well looked after and thriving with the attention.
"Sorry sir, we did say it was nothing special," The silver- striped drone sighed sadly.
"It's not much, we know that… but we do our best though…" his companion added, sounding just as down sparked.
"Nonsense! Their lovely!" Ratchet exclaimed, leaning down to examine a cluster of luminous emerald shards more closely, "The fact you've managed to grow anything is remarkable. I never thought I'd ever have the pleasure of seeing a sight like this again."
The crystal gardens in Iacon had taken hundreds of millennia to reach their legendary splendour. The fact that the drone troops had managed to cultivate and nurture any sort of growth, no matter how small, was truly a remarkable feet. The drones stood quietly as Ratchet took his time and examined each cluster in detail, particularly a vivid multi- hued one that grew in a peculiar cubic structure.
"They are all beautiful," he concluded, "Whoever is tending them should be very proud."
"Thank you sir," The welted drone said humbly, "We all do our bit."
"And it shows. Do bots come and sit?" Ratchet asked, indicating to the benches.
"Yeah, especially if they're looking for a little peace and quiet."
"Hmmm, I'll have to remember that," the medic mused, moving to the door in a clear sign that he'd finished.
"So, where to now?" Ratchet asked his escorts when they were in the corridor.
"Would you like some fresh air, sir?" the scratched trooper queried, "We could take you to the launch pad. It's not too breezy out, a nice warm day to catch some solar rays."
"That sounds delightful." Ratchet smiled.
They hadn't been lying. It really was lovely coming out into the bright sunshine from the dark cool corridors of the Nemesis. It felt good to have the sun warm his plating again, flaring his white armour for maximum absorption of the solar rays. The movement also allowed the cool light sea breeze to flow under the heavy plating, gently brushing at the exposed protoform.
For a long time, Ratchet simply stood and gazed over the vast waterscape before him. There was nothing but clear sky and deep, dark water that shimmered in the light, a vast expanse of blue no matter where he looked. Only little cottonball- white clouds dotted the air here and there broke up the endless sky. His two drone escorts hung back, giving him a respectful amount of space to be alone with his thoughts.
Though Megatron had only been gone a few hours, the medic already felt the painful tug at his spark, already missing his mate's close presence. It would be days before his return, long days before he would be able to feel him again, bask in the presents of Megatrons strong, vibrant, EM field. He wanted to feel the larger bot's arms wrap around him, his sharp servos roaming… Ratchet sighed forlornly; it really was going to be hard without him- such a short amount of time had past and he was already lonely.
"Sir? Are you alright?" One drone asked.
"Hmmm? Oh! Yes, yes I'm fine." Ratchet replied distractedly, waving him off, "Don't mind me…"
"I don't… wish to speak out of line, sir but, you seem a little… down?" the scratched trooper spoke up. Ratchet gave a little snort; he clearly wasn't doing well at hiding his feelings at present.
"Oh, it's nothing important. Truth is I'm just… not looking forward to going back to my quarters."
"Why sir?" The other asked, seemingly baffled. "I thought Lord Megatron's quarters were nice?"
"Nice?! They're positively swanky compered to ours!" The dented drone exclaimed, making the older mech chuckle at the surprising outburst.
"They are indeed… swanky… I'm just being silly really. It's just that without Megatron there, I know that I'm going to be bored out of my mind in there. Before, I always had things and projects to attend to… to work on… things that needed fixing or making… I was always busy… always had something to do… but now…." Ratchet sighed shakily, looking back off over the sea scape. The clouds floated by slowly without a care in the world. The medic wished that he could be like them, not thinking about what he'd left unfinished… who he'd left behind…
The two drones pick up his changing mood and instantly tried steering him away form his turmoil.
"I'm sure there's something we could do to help sir!" one drone piped up quickly. "We could do something… fun, you know, together. Till lord Megatron gets back." With that said, Ratchet's thoughts quickly shifted back to his earlier conversation with his new mate, it successfully banished his melancholy thoughts from his processor in a spark beat. A deviously sly grin spread over his handsome face as he chuckled darkly to himself. Oh what fun he could get up to with a couple of eager to please troopers. So many different scenarios popped up in his processor, every one of them deviously naughty. Alas, he did make a promise…
"Sir?" The dented drone asked with puzzlement lacing his voice. "Umm… are you alright?"
"Oh yes, but sadly I don't think there's anything you can do to help, I don't want to get you into trouble…"
"I'm sure there's something we could do sir," the welted trooper said with clear confidence, "We can't have you bored stiff. Just name it."
Ratchet thought for a moment, something they could do that didn't involve stasis cuffs and them all getting hot and sticky. He paused as a daft idea surfaced in his mind.
"Don't suppose there's any chance that you have a Kal'toe stash away somewhere on board. Then we might be onto something," Ratchet said offhandedly. Kal'toe was a logic game, quite popular in its time and he had always enjoyed playing either by himself or against others. The medic hadn't seen a set in millennia, they were most likely all destroyed. He didn't think he ever would again, but thought he'd ask anyway. The two drones cast a look at each other before looking back at the doctor.
"Kal'toe? Yeah, we have one of those." The chipped mech said in a matter-of-fact tone. Ratchet stalled in surprise, not expecting a positive answer.
"You're kidding?"
"No really we have, it's in the recreation hall, sir," the scarred trooper assured him, "We also have a Pon'tack table, Dr'pla, a dig gamer with lots of games and even a Pre-cee squer."
"Bob's added human games as well," The other drone added in, "Loads of human computer games for the Digi-gamer, A chess board, Cribbage and something called Ker'plunk, I believe."
Even though the old mech was immensely delighted by the news that he wouldn't be reduced to twiddling his thumbs alone in his new quarters till his bondmate got back, he couldn't help but frown.
"Bob?" Ratchet asked, intrigued by the human name. Even with their faces coved, the two drones suddenly looked very sheepish.
"Ugh, the mech that runs the rec room, sir. His Designation is J-13-0-13…. Everyone calls him Bob." The welted mech clarified. Ratchet merely nodded, still a little confused, when another thought suddenly occurred to him.
"Well, while were on the subject, you two haven't told me your names."
At this the drone troops appeared to be genuinely surprised.
"You mean our names?" the scratched one asked, pointing between him and his companion.
"Unless there's someone else here I'm not seeing," Ratchet said dryly at the two startled mechs.
"Well sir… my designation is T0-M21," supplied the drone with the large welts on his shoulder.
"T1-M13," the other with the scratched paintwork chirped happily, "But you can call me Tim if you like sir, everyone else does, and he's Tom by the way."
Even with his face masked, T0-M21 looked to be giving Tim a scathing glare for blabbing his alias.
"Do all the drone troopers have human designations?" Ratchet asked, intrigued by the new discovery.
"Not everyone, sir." Tom said with a shake of his helm. "When we came to Earth, we found that our serial codes can sometimes look like human names."
"Even though, you sometimes have to tilt your helm and squint to see it," Tim added, tipping his own helm for emphasis.
"It started out as a bit of a joke but… it seems to have caught on," Tom shrugged.
"Big time," his partner exclaimed with a little laugh, "It's nice to finally have an actual name even if it is made from our serial number."
Ratchet smiled softly, nodding in understanding. He had never agreed with the practise of giving those of the lowest classes only numbers instead of true names. It had been degrading and unfair. The medic was really starting to grow fond of the two quite rapidly.
"Well then, Tim, Tom, how do you fancy a game of Kal'to?" Ratchet asked.
"Sound like a plan to me sir." Tim grinned.
"I'll just have to inform Soundwave," Tom said, tapping the side of his helm, "He told us to notified him if we went anywhere with more then four bots."
"I swear! I've never been this coddled in all my life!" Ratchet laughed loudly, amused by the overprotectiveness of the spy as Tom sent a direct comm. message. They waited patiently for a few moments as Soundwave mulled over the request, but finally receive an all- clear.
The three turned around, engaging in small talk as they made their way back into the Nemesis. Ratchet asked about their particular duties on board and the troopers were more then happy to answer. Tom was an engineer and thus didn't see much combat; he mostly looked after the various Decepticon vehicles and undertook ship maintenance. Tim was a scout, sent all over earth for various reasons and could be away for days at a time.
The drones, on their part, found it remarkably easy to open up and just 'chat' to the older mech. Both were surprised by his informality compared to the other officers. Breakdown being the only other exception. His apparent easy temperament, kind optics and warm smiles clashed horribly with the horror stories of the Dreaded Autobot 'Hatchet' that they had been told.
They were deep into a funny anecdote Tim was giving regarding a fellow Eradicon who managed to get his head stuck in a shuttle pod turbine, when the group rounded a corner and ran headlong into a hurrying miner drone. The purple bot collided into Tom with a loud CLANG and let out a yelp of surprise.
"Hey! Watch it!" Tom yelled out, take up a defensive stance in front of his charge. As the smaller Decepticon bounced off him, he staggered before steadying himself.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" The Miner cried.
"Look where you're going mech!" Tim added, "You've got optics for a reason ya know."
"I'm really sorry, guys, I was ju-" The mech stalled as he finally caught sight of Ratchet behind the troopers. The worker mech's double slitted visor glowed brightly in panic and he begun to shake so much his armour started to rattle.
"Are you alright?" Ratchet asked, genuinely concerned about the smaller mech's sudden violent quaking, stepping forward. In response the miner screamed blue murder, ran face first into the wall opposite them, bounced off and bolted down the hall crying in a hysterical voice.
"Primus help me! I'm sorry! It was an accident! Please don't hurt me! I don't wanna get melted again!"
The three watched him go, listening while the miner cried out apologies as he ran.
"What… in the name of the AllSpark… was that all about?" Ratchet frowned, baffled.
"Ah…well sir, that pathetic display was provided for you today by PHI-11," Tom informed him with a sigh, gesturing grandly in the direction the mech had fled.
"Let me guess… is his names Phill?" the medic asked.
"Heh, good guess," Tim chuckled.
"You don't recognize him, sir?" Tom questioned, tilting his head quizzically.
"Should I?" The carrying bot asked in puzzlement.
"Well, you did kinda hit him on the head with a rock sir… then welded his mask to his face," Tim sniggered as realisation finally dawned on the older mech.
"Oh dear Primus… that was him."
Ratchet cringed a little at the memories, he truly looked appalled at himself, "I really didn't mean to do that, I wasn't myself that day. Is he alright?"
"Oh yeah, he's fine… he got the whole lunar cycle off, the lucky bugger," Ratchet could have sworn he heared a pout in Tom's voice.
"It took Knock-out about 2 hours to get it off though," Tim cackled merrily, "You should have seen the doc trying to prise the slagging mask off- he was swearing like a ground pounder!"
"Oh dear… I really didn't mean to go that far…" Ratchet cringed, feeling awful for the poor little miner.
"Sir, if I may ask… I heard a rumour," The dented drone piped up tentatively, "The day you bashed Phill… you infiltrated an Energon mine as well didn't you?"
Ratchet nodded an affirmative.
"You also beat up Breakdown?"
"That's not much of a rumour, but yes I guess that's true," the medic answered.
"The one he really wants to ask, but is too much of a big a robot chicken to ask, is the one going around saying that you punched Megatron in the face on the same day," Tom sighed. Tim shot him a heated glare.
"I am not a chicken! But… Yeah, that one," Tim nodded, looking hopeful. Ratchet chuckled to himself.
"It wasn't that spectacular; it was only the one punch… But it did send him flying back into a wall…" Ratchet replied matter of factly, waving the whole incident off. The two troopers stared at him in something close to awe.
"Wow… that is so totally… noble!" Tim squeaked happily and begun giggling. Ratchet could hear pure adoration in the mechs voice and it made him grin broadly.
"Alright! Enough with the fan-mech attitude!" Tom snapped as he started shoving Tim playfully down the hall, "Let's go- we got games to play!"
"Righty oh." Tim cried, pointing down the hall. "To the Rec!"
Ratchet shook his helm ruefully at his escorts antics and made up his mind, then and there. If Ratchet was to be spark-sat from now on (and he got the feeling that was the case) then it might as well be in the company of bots he liked. He was going to ask Soundwave if these two could be made his permanent escort- they made him laugh.
It wasn't long before they reached a large set of double doors. Scrawled, painted Cybertronian glyphs across the archway read 'Bob's Wreck and Ruin.'
"Well it's not much, sir… but we like it," Tom said as they walked in, warm affection flooding his voice.
"Bob! Look alive! We have a VIP guest!" Tim called. The servant class drone dropped what he was doing when he saw who exactly was with his brethren. He rushed round the bar and gave Ratchet a very low, respectable bow.
"Welcome! Welcome! It is an honour sir! What brings you here of all places?" he asked, his voice deep, gravely and… bizarrely… he was sporting a large bowtie that appeared to be made out of blue tarpaulin.
"Tim and Tom told me you have a Kal'toe, here. I was hoping we could sit and play for a while, if that alright with you Bob."
The servant drone was clearly stunned by the older mechs gracious smile and the use of his given designation. Normally the higher up never bothered to learn their individual codes let alone their nick-names. Even being civil to them seemed a bit of a stretch for some of the officers at times. It was rather refreshing.
"Well… indeed we do, sir! Just over here," Bob said leading the way to one corner of the room where most of the recreational entertainment was kept, "Though, it hasn't been out in a while if I'm honest, not many play it."
"Well it is kinda hard. Having to thinking 10 moves ahead and it's fiddly. All those little bits," Tim said, wiggling his three fingered servos.
Bob produced a cleaning rag from his subspace and quickly wiped down a table of non-existent dirt.
"Would you like something to drink sir?" Bob asked as he pulled out a chair for Ratchet. The medic was quite flattered by all the attention he was receiving and inclined his head in thanks as he sat.
"Nothing strong, I'm afraid, just some midgrade if you have it. I do have a little stowaway onboard." Ratchet gave a little smile, patting his chest lightly.
"Of course sir, right away. VINNIE!"
Bob yelled so loud and harshly it made everyone jump, causing Ratchet to grip the table top in surprise, Tom to nearly topple off his chair and poor Tim to drop the game and scattering the pieces on the table.
"Geez Bob! Gimmie a spark attack would ya!" Tom grumbled, servo over his chassis. Ratchet watched as another service bot popped up from behind an overturned table on the other side of the room where he had looked to have been making repairs.
"Wot?" he yelled indigently, "Wot I gotta do now?"
"Don't 'wot' me, s'rude! 'Specially when we got a guest!" Bob scolded, "Run down to the refinery and get some mid grade!"
"Wot… now?"
"Yes now!"
"Bu-"
"NOW!"
"Okay… Okay!" the slender drone sighed dramatically, getting up and taking off for the door.
"And I want good stuff!" Bob yelled after him, making Vinnie screech to a halt and look back.
"Okay!" Vinnie nodded vigorously.
"You just tell them who it's for and don't you take any slag from 'em," Bob ordered, wagging his digit purposefully.
"Right! Will do!" The mech called and ran out the doors.
"And don't be too long about it!" Bob yelled before they shut. Turning back to his guest he clasped his hands in an apologetic manner, "So sorry about that, he's from Slaughter City, they drag them up rather then raise them and teach them manners, it won't be long."
"You really don't need to go to that much trouble," Ratchet said softly.
"Honestly, it's not a trouble at all, sir. We're here to look after you and your stowaway," Bob chuckled warmly, fiddling with his bowtie, "I'll bring you over a cube as soon as it arrives. If there is anything else you need just yell."
With that he returned back behind the bar and continued to shine containers.
As Tom and Tim set up the Kal'toe, Ratchet gazed around the space. It was huge, well used and clearly loved. Behind the long bar, large vats of coloured high grade and Engex glowed invitingly. It was a shame he couldn't sample them. There were many booths and tables dotted around the floor and Ratchet even spotted a raised platform area in front of a wall that was covered in what looked like road signs, at the other end of the room. He could only guess what it was used for. He'd have to ask his companions later.
The lights were set at a comfortable dimmed setting that was easy on the optics. There was even music playing softly in the back ground, loudly enough to be identified but not enough to interfere with conversation. Strangely, Ratchet recognised it as a human song he'd heard once before. All these elements gave the place a very relaxed and pleasant atmosphere. It reminded him of energon bars he used to frequent when he was a medical student all those millennia ago.
But Ratchet guessed that this place could really buzz when the mood was right. There were only a few drones present at the moment, keeping to the secluded booths, but he could see them trying to covertly watch and sneak glances at him. Ratchet didn't mind though, he hadn't felt this popular in quite some time. It felt nice to be the centre of attention for once. Ratchet liked it in here… it felt oddly… comforting. He gave a sigh of contentment; he hadn't felt this relaxed and at ease in such a long time. It was strange to think that it would be here on Nemissis where he would finely feel… at peace again… and not with-
"Do you want to go first sir?" Tom asked, breaking Ratchet's train of thought. The medic looked back to see the assembled game, but assembled really wasn't the correct term. The floating structure in the centre was a mess of small sticks that resembled wire wool. A predatory smile crossed the old mech's face as giddy joy filled his spark. Fond memories surfaced as he recalled all his old strategies and tactics. How he loved the challenge of pitting his logic against an opponent.
He was really going to enjoy thrashing the Pit out of these two.
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