Author's Note:Uh.. yeah... no excuse on the wait besides losing the muse for a while. I'm back right now and this is just a half-chapter in thanks to the reviewers and all those who favorited and alerted. I honestly didn't think I'd be back writing this but the muse bit and bit hard so, if all goes well, there should be another longer chapter to come. It's just very late at night and I don't have the time to continue. So I apologize for the short chapter. I'm going to stop writing now or I won't make any sense.
Breem: 8.3 minutes
Stellar cycle: 7.5 months
Bold: Cybertronian speech
Bold and Italic: Cybertronian via comm link
"In quotes": English
Italics: thoughts
After surveying the surroundings for any observers, Frenzy scurried into the waiting auto-cab. Once inside he wasted no time overriding the cab's cameras. Anyone reviewing the cab's logs would see a plain faced, middle aged man in average middle class clothing sag into the backseat, his face red and sweaty with the day's heat. Mopping his forehead with a slightly yellowed handkerchief, the man leaned back into the seat and gave the computer his destination.
Safely and untraceably on his way, Frenzy hunkered down in the seat, below the window line. Bringing up a detailed schematic of the city's infrastructure on his internal display, he began to plot a path which would bring him to his destination undetected.
Late the next morning found Sam still asleep in the quarters Jolt had secured for him, Bumblebee faithfully at his side, forgoing recharge even in the safety of the base. Ratchet had stopped by earlier, hoping to speak with Sam, but left disappointed with only a partial scan and a memory cycle of blue optics flashing and an unfamiliar song lyric. Bumblebee was usually much better at selecting appropriate lyrics to supplement his damaged vocalizer, but given how frazzled the mech must be, Thin Lizzy's "Get Out of Here" was sufficiently clear.
Deciding to take his energon ration before returning to his Medbay, Ratchet walked on towards the mech and human commissary. The commissary was actually one of the best examples of human/Autobot cooperation, besides their coordinated battle tactics. It was constructed of a complicated series of floor level and balcony dining areas interspersed throughout the room, allowing the Autobots and humans to dine together without hindering either species. NEST used this room to familiarize new recruits with the Autobots in a relatively informal setting while the Autobots used the setting to hold large scale meetings when necessary, the room's size and elevated communal areas facilitating face to face conversation.
Upon entering, Ratchet immediately noticed a difference in the normal flow of the room. Usually there was a fair amount of mingling and loud conversation between the two groups, the humans twisting in their chairs or reseating themselves to involve themselves in different conversations. To the left of the room a large area was sectioned off with soundproof glass, access available only to the high-ranking Autobots and NEST personnel. This was the officer's area. Given their mutual dependence on each other officers and enlisted frequently ate together, rank foregone for the company of people who uniquely understood the trials of their chosen career.
However, this morning was decidedly different. The officers had secluded themselves in their section with Optimus and Ironhide, the body language of both human and mech screaming tension. The enlisted personnel and those officers not in the know were huddled together, eating quietly and casting furtive glances towards their commanders.
The meeting must have been going on for some time. It was nearing afternoon and Ratchet recognized officers in the meeting who covered the day shift and some remained from the night shift. Hesitating, Ratchet debated just foregoing his ration and sneaking away before he was noticed. His approach to diplomacy was much the same as his bedside manner, coarse and unrefined yet, unfortunately for Ratchet, intelligent and accurate. It led to more boring strategizing sessions then Ratchet had the patience for.
But it was too late. Ratchet's musing had cost him his opportunity to escape to the isolation of his Medbay. Optimus had noticed him and waved him over. Though he might dislike strategy sessions, Ratchet was too good a soldier to disobey his Prime. With an internal sigh Ratchet obtained his energon ration and with measured steps entered what he was sure would be the source of yet another processor-ache.
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