All's Fair
Chapter 10
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.
Skywarp had his cell to himself. Skyfire had gotten permission to take Starscream outside for a walk and Red Alert was having another go at questioning Thundercracker. He was bored, sort of. The old Autobot, Kup, had given him a data pad full of Cybertronian literature to help take the edge off. Military history, mainly. Good reading, even though the slant was toward the Autobots.
Whoa. Who was that coming his way? The energy signature was positively vile. The Seeker's optics widened when he saw it was Optimus Prime.
"Come to check up on me?" Skywarp said.
"You wish," Prime answered.
"You know, I could feel you coming a mile away. You should do something about that energy field," Skywarp said. "I could, if you want. Not much, but it would help. C'mere."
Prime backed away from the cell.
"I don't have to touch you. It just involves synching energy fields," Skywarp said. "Nothing naughty about it."
Prime sighed, stepped toward the cell again. "Try anything. . ."
"Yeah, like that'll happen," Skywarp said. He offlined his optics as he concentrated on synching their energy fields, then trying to syphon off some of the excess energy from the Autobot leader's frame. Seconds later, Prime watched as Skywarp's optics onlined.
"Feel better?" Skywarp asked.
"Yes, somewhat," Prime said. "Thank you."
Skywarp watched Prime walk away. The Autobots were a strange bunch.
-----
Ultra Magnus sat in ops, bored out of his mind as well. Wheeljack had provided some break from the boredom a while before, dropping by to ask his opinion on several new weapon designs. They were all impressive, so he'd given the go ahead for the engineer to work on them all. Couldn't hurt, could it?
Now, he was wondering what Arcee wanted. Surely she had something better to do on an afternoon off than spend it with him? Not that he minded. She was intelligent, caring and beautiful.
"Hello," Ultra Magnus said as she sat down at the station beside his.
"Hey," Arcee responded. "Ultra Magnus, I was wondering. . .you've known Optimus a long time. . .why does he keep his face covered?"
What? Ultra Magnus wondered to himself, but he recovered quickly.
"He always has," he said. Not completely a lie, but his friend had since being rebuilt into Optimus Prime.
"Oh," Arcee said. "Thanks."
He watched her go, frowning. Ultra Magnus knew Optimus Prime could count on one hand the number of living Cybetronians who had seen his face. They were Kup, himself, Ironhide, Elita-1 and Ratchet. He knew well the reason why, too, and he would never tell anyone. It was Prime's business. And even though Ultra Magnus had not seen the face beneath the mask in a very long time, he knew it as well as his own. It was the face of Orion Pax, only older, wiser, a face he'd once heard Elita-1 call beautiful.
And Arcee was wondering about it? Well, it would take a hell of a lot for Prime to reveal his face to anyone.
-----
Prime found himself voluntarily walking inside the med bay. He figured he should get his hand looked at because now that he could actually feel it, it did hurt. Not that he would have admitted it to that insolent punk Hot Rod. He had some dignity left. Damn door anyway.
Ratchet looked up when he heard footsteps. And he dropped his wrench when he felt Prime's energy field. It fit exactly what the humans called a "black mood."
"I obviously need to get you fixed up," Ratchet said. "What have you been doing anyway? When was the last time you recharged?"
"Just a couple of hours in the past three days," Prime admitted sheepishly. Work and Arcee's appearance were the main reasons.
"And what did you do to your hand? Wait--I don't want to know. Sit down," Ratchet said. "You're going to take a nap while I work on that hand."
Prime frowned when he saw Ratchet reach into a drawer, pulling out a device he'd never seen before.
"Lay down and I'll explain what it is while it works," Ratchet said.
Prime complied.
"It's an inducer," Ratchet said, laying it on Prime's forehead below his helm. "It's to knock out mechs during routine medical procedures. That's all. Less harmful than putting someone completely under."
"Oh," Prime said, already drifting into unconsciousness.
Ratchet smiled. It was partly the truth. In actuality, it was used to put out sparklings and younger Autobots without the stress of putting them fully under. He'd been having to use it lately on Blurr for repairs because Blurr didn't sleep and there was no other way to get him under. Well, he did sleep, sort of--micronaps of about 30 seconds to one minute several times a day.
Satisfied his leader was now taking a nice, pleasant nap, Ratchet offlined the sensor nodes in Prime's arm, cutting off most of his feeling, but he knew he'd have to be able to let Prime feel something when he got to work on the damaged finger. The medic looked at the hand, the scan telling him what his optics already had. The first two knuckles on the right hand were smashed and the cable (akin to a human ligament) on the first finger was sliced almost completely through. No wonder his energy field was so dark. Between a lack of recharge and ignoring the pain. . .stubborn pain in the aft, Ratchet reflected, picking metal fragments out of the wound.
Hands. Ugh. Re-attaching them was work he didn't mind, but fingers, knuckles, the more delicate stuff drove him nuts sometimes (mainly because he had to do so much of it because of the resident science bots). Oh yes, those and optics.
A magnifying lens slid down over his right optic so he could better see to pull out all the fragments in Prime's wounds. Damn, Prime was stubborn. . .but Ratchet really did have his leader's best interests at heart. And his method of trying to get Prime to at least acknowledge the interfacing issue had backfired. Hard. Nine million years was a long time (although admittedly, four million of them were spent unconscious, but still). . .the medic sighed. Then he realized he had his leader out flat on a berth. Did anyone know where Prime was? Probably not. Better be responsible and let someone know, Ratchet thought.
:Ultra Magnus, I have Prime here in the med bay for minor repairs. He's going to be here a while, so I hope you don't mind keeping an eye on things in ops:
:No: Ultra Magnus replied. :I'm already in ops doing just that:
:All right:
-----
Springer checked Prime's office but the Autobot leader wasn't there. Wasn't in his quarters either, nor the observation platform on Lookout Mountain, ops or any place else he'd looked. And the triple changer was well past annoyed. Never mind he'd bailed on his first special ops "mission," but cleaning out a storage closet wasn't something he deemed worthy of his time. Hot Rod would cover for him. They always looked out for each other, so Springer knew he could count on his friend.
He strode down the corridor to his quarters, angry he couldn't even find Arcee. If she was with Prime. . .
Springer didn't finish the thought. Damn it, why had they even bothered coming to Earth anyway? Not like adding their small number to the Autobots on Earth would make much of a difference. He'd come mostly out of loyalty and friendship to Hot Rod and not to mention Arcee. Damn Hot Rod, also. It was his fault they'd ended up joining Ultra Magnus' rag tag band all those years ago. Before, it was always just the two of them, watching each other's backs, keeping each other alive. They were two of the last survivors of the Autobot colony Circini III, holding out against the Decepticons and anyone else who invaded their home. The shuttle that landed one day proved to be too much of a draw for more than just two errant young Autobots.
The Decepticons holding the colony decided to see if the shuttle occupants had anything useful they could take and the two Autobots decided to take advantage of the chaos to try and settle a few old scores. Unfortunately, Springer ended up getting separated from Hot Rod. Oh, how Springer remembered that day. He thought Rodi was dead after the smoke cleared. He couldn't find him, couldn't get a response. Might as well have been dead, too, if Kup hadn't found him.
While Springer was grieving for his friend and trying to find a place to hide, Kup and Ultra Magnus decided to take the opportunity to recruit Hot Rod (guilt and repairs . Didn't take much to convince him to sign on, that there wasn't much of their home left to defend and they could give him a chance to make a real difference. Those were the magic words. Of course, Springer was glad to find out later Hot Rod was still alive, had been less convinced of Ultra Magnus' motives. Hot Rod had bought into the propaganda, which he'd also been spoon-fed, as the humans said, the same line by Arcee. And between Hot Rod deciding there needed to be more to life than just strafing Decepticons for fun and being told by a beautiful femme he was wasting his life, Springer had never had a chance to say no.
Not like he ever would have left Hot Rod. They'd been through too much together for that to happen. And Arcee. He'd follow her to the Pit and back. But Earth? Yes, even Earth.
Now he was stuck on the mud ball with a bunch of crazies while their leader tried to steal *his* femme. He'd find Prime. After all, the day was still young and Springer could be calm when he had to.
-----
Sideswipe walked with his twin down the corridor containing the officers quarters. It'll probably be the last time I'll see Sunny alive, he thought as he watched Sunstreaker casually short out the keypad to one particular door.
Luckily, the door didn't open on the first attempt but Sideswipe knew his brother was not going to give up so easily.
"And what are you hoping to accomplish with this?" Sideswipe finally asked.
Sunstreaker looked up from his work, which was ripping wiring out of the open control panel.
"Trying to find something to give us an edge on the competition," he said.
"Competition? That's what you see this as?" Sideswipe asked. "This is Prime we're talking about. Our leader. Our very revered, beloved, respected leader. The Prime, bearer of the Matrix, the protector and life-giver of our people."
Sunstreaker stopped, giving his brother a look Sideswipe new very well. The one that said 'Sides, I love you, but you're wrong, as usual.
"You make it sound like I'm trying to do something evil to someone like the human Pope," Sunstreaker said. "I just want to get him to relax."
Sideswipe grabbed his twin by the arm, trying to haul him away from Prime's door.
"Then help get him drunk off his aft tonight," Sideswipe said. "Offer to talk or something he likes, not something you like. Just try to be a friend and he'll relax. But I know you. That's not all you want."
"He needs it and you know it," Sunstreaker said.
"Yeah, maybe he does but if you're going to keep pursuing this, you can count me out," Sideswipe said. "It's been nice knowing you."
He walked away, didn't need to look back to know that Sunstreaker was still trying to get the door to open. Sometimes, it sucked having to be the responsible one. . .
--
An alarm went off in ops. A very quiet, small alarm. Ultra Magnus stood, going to check it out. Looked like the afternoon was going to be anything but uneventful.
--
Sunstreaker was running codes trying to get the door to open, but to no avail. Damn thing was old, but like everything on the Ark, all it needed was a little convincing to work. Except he didn't know that most of quarters down the officers' quarters were exceptionally secure, especially this room.
So engrossed in his mischief was Sunstreaker that he didn't hear Ultra Magnus' approach, didn't notice he wasn't alone until he felt the big hand close over his shoulder. He jumped, turned around, fearing the worst. Prime he could have dealt with but not the huge Autobot staring him down. His energon ran cold as he spoke.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Ultra Magnus asked.
Sunstreaker couldn't manage a response has he was dragged to the brig.