Part Eleven
Disclaimers in Part One
-Sidhe Chronicles-
Silverbolt touched down at Mission City around 1800 hours, just after the beginning of fourth joor. As soon as he rolled to a stop, the Ospreys settled around him and their cargo of S14 and NEST troops began to pour out.
The wounded were delivered to Medbay. Emery McKuen was the only non-ambulatory case, confined to a stretcher by a backstrut injury. Likewise, Warp was carried into Medbay, but he was in stasis as a precautionary measure and Ratchet, changing that for the young warper, believed he would soon recover.
Under heavy guard, Soundwave went directly to Excellion, where he would remain in judicial stasis.
Optimus waited until everyone else had vacated Silverbolt's hold before disembarking. Silverbolt had configured the space to the Prime's specifications, but it was still close quarters. He rolled down the ramp, let Diarwen out and transformed smoothly as soon as he was clear.
He did not fool Ratchet. Both the Prime and Blitzwing were in that condition he abbreviated in English as BTS—beat to scrap. The medic, however, understood the necessity for Optimus to put on a good show for his people. It reassured them, and helped start the process of getting things back to normal.
Optimus, BTS, took his first real look at the base in two days. Nothing had changed, which was good. Lennox and Zain released their troops from formation in the parking lot by Building C.
His own troops—Prowl had disappeared so thoroughly he seemed to have teleported. A huge cheer went up as the Wreckers began to unload the repatriated energon cubes.
Diarwen smiled widely at the sight, turned to her mate, and said, "In my day those would have been cattle, and all would be well 'til the next raid. 'Tis the same difference!"
Optimus chuckled quietly. "Indeed. As the aftermath of battle goes, I will take this gladly."
Diarwen remembered the horror and sorrow following the Battle of Chicago, nigh on eleven months past. "Aye, acushla. We have much for which to be grateful."
Chromia passed them, and stopped to check on her foster-son.
::Optimus?::
::I am well, Chromia. We are on our way to medbay, as soon as some of the excitement has settled down,:: Optimus assured her.
::And Diarwen?::
::Scratches and bruises only.::
::Hide tells me that the train is on its way. They'll be in Las Vegas with Blitzwing tomorrow evening.:: She nodded decisively, and moved on with her sisters.
Optimus had considered coming back overland, shadowing the train, but with Ironhide, the Big Twins, and the Protectobots riding it with their prisoner, he knew he was unnecessary. And he needed to be here, not least of all in order to see if Area 51 had gotten any further in solving the mystery of yesterday's convoy hijacking.
Optimus had a bad feeling about that. The weaponry used suggested human criminals with access to technology much more advanced than should have been available to them.
Frank Hastings might not have been the only wealthy human with designs on Cybertronian technology. It appeared that another group with less moral restraint—and less concern about the government coming down on them like the proverbial ton of bricks—had just put their hand in play.
Optimus put that aside to watch Flareup embrace and be embraced by Chromia and Arcee, then leave her sisters to join Barricade and the sparklings near the entrance to Building C.
Arcee stayed with Chromia. Arcee and Sideswipe usually celebrated their victories together, but that had to take a rain check until the next evening. And Hide too, of course, was on the train.
Optimus was heartily tempted to follow Flareup himself; the siren song of his berth was loud and clear in his audials. But first, he needed to get cleared by Ratchet, then wrap things up in Admin. Most of his reports for Director Mearing were nearly complete, awaiting only the senior officers' reports and a final detail check.
There was a queue forming outside Medbay. All four of Silverbolt's brothers were nursing various minor injuries; Silverbolt himself had more urgent damage, courtesy Blitzwing; but of all five, Fireflight's battle damage was most severe.
Optimus checked with Ratchet via their comms, was grumpily allowed to consider himself on the "not urgent" list, and went to Admin.
-Sidhe Chronicles-
Not far away, Prowl gave Jazz a long searching look. "Are you sure you don't need a post-mission physical, Jazz? You were in quite a fight there."
The saboteur gifted his mate with a saucy grin. "Ah don't know what Ratchet would look for; it wasn't mah frame that was in that fight. Ah'm fine, Prowl. Ah'll admit, it was a close thing, but Sam healed Diarwen right in the nick of time. Wait'll Ah show you the look on ol' Sounders' faceplates when she come bustin' in there."
Prowl offered a port for Jazz' hardline. He had been "present" for the fight via their sparkbond, but did not have that visual. It went a long way toward helping his fields settle, and so did Prime's word that Jazz would have the final decision about when or if Soundwave was allowed out of stasis, and how much liberty he would have if they did allow him to waken.
"It's all right," Jazz murmured in his audials.
"Yes," Prowl said. "Now that you're with me, it's all right."
-Sidhe Chronicles-
"Rumble, Buzzsaw, welcome," Excellion said.
"Uh, yeah. Thank you," Rumble said, the words torn out of his vocalizer with their grudging roots still attached. "We got Optimus' permission to see Soundwave."
The Decepticon's former symbionts stood on the cityformer's entrance platform in the wan early-morning sunlight of an April day, Icebreaker a presence behind them not entirely benign. Beyond, Mission City was having a pretty normal day, considering its personnel were two days past a major operation.
"Yes, he commed me that you would be coming," Excellion replied, a small smile crossing the broad face displayed above the entrance. "Welcome. I will light green arrows in the direction you must go. —Icebreaker," he added, nodding.
Icy stepped inside, following his charges at a discreet distance. ::Exy. Are you and Roller busy on Tuesday?::
::No, I've nothing planned.::
::Want to go to the firing range with me? Would Roller enjoy that?::
::Oh, immensely, I believe. I'll comm Optimus to make sure, though.::
He did so, and Optimus replied, ::You will probably find it far more difficult to get him to leave than to go.::
::None of the bots with black paint jobs will be there, will they?:: asked Excellion.
::Why?:: Icy sent.
Excellion sent Icebreaker a file containing his adventures with Roller upon the occasion of Roller's first acquaintance with the Pretenders.
They walked the circumference of Excellion's plating once, and only cut in to a more central level just before the circuit was complete.
Whereupon they made another almost-complete circuit, then doubled back through a roundabout way past Excellion's engines. Rumble had long since picked up Buzzsaw, who was not made to walk the earth, or even the floorplates.
Icy's mirth at Roller's adventures with Excellion aboard flowing through the comms, the bot replied, ::I'll check. I asked because that young warper might be available to visit next Tuesday, and I thought Roller might enjoy meeting him. I'll clear it to take both of them to the range, if Roller would enjoy that.::
::Optimus says that he would. We're almost there,:: Excellion said, a tinge of embarrassment in his comm.
::Yeah, kinda thought this was the long way round,:: Icy replied. He knew what was what, and knew specifically what was not showing those who might still be your enemies your layout; he made no other comment.
-Sidhe Chronicles-
At the door to medbay, Rumble set Buzzsaw down, and reached up to push the intercom button.
Perceptor appeared in the visiplate. "Yes?—Oh, Rumble and Buzzsaw. Optimus told me you would be coming." The door slid aside.
Buzzsaw waddled in with no change of gait or expression; she was, at the best of times, hard to read. Rumble...was not. His optics were fully dilated, and his shutters completely retracted.
Perceptor simply greeted Rumble and Buzzsaw, and nodded to Icy, who moved with them over to the stasis berth presently occupied by Soundwave.
The monitor above his helm was as still and silent as the bot himself.
"He feels...peaceful," Rumble said in surprise.
"Of course he does," Perceptor said shortly. "Lift me up to his berth, please."
Rumble, surprised, did this thing for a bot he had thought of as "enemy" for several vorn.
The small medic clambered over his patient's supine body, and Buzzsaw lifted herself into the air with a clank and a flap. She took up a position near Soundwave's peds.
Icebreaker kicked a stool over to Rumble, and earned a glare for it. But the little bot climbed it, which put his head over the top of the berth.
Soundwave lay flat on his back, in the position most bots used for recharge. His servos were by his side, relaxed, and his optics shuttered.
"We performed his repairs, and will keep him under observation until his systems can incorporate those repairs. This, for instance," Perceptor said, pointing to new welds along one of Soundwave's forearms, "was the worst of his damage, actually: a blade slash from the Prime Consort. The color nanites are the last of the systems to replicate after injury, so once they begin to work, he'll be crated and stored until it's time to rouse him."
"What's stasis like?" Rumble said, browplates contracted.
Perceptor shrugged. "I don't know myself, and I'm not acquainted with anybot who's been placed in long-term stasis. Medical literature says that survivors report no sense at all of time passing."
Rumble said nothing, merely stared at his once-bonded carrier. Buzzsaw did the same.
A few minutes passed. Then the two former symbionts raised their helms and looked at one another, and whatever passed between them, Rumble said, "We're ready to go now.—Where does this go?" he asked, picking up the stool after he had lifted Perceptor down.
Perceptor somehow refrained from fainting in his shock at this version of Rumble, and said, "The corner, there."
Rumble picked up Buzzsaw, said, "Thanks," to Perceptor (which did cause the scientist's awareness to dim briefly).
Once they were beyond Excellion's ramp, Icebreaker said to Rumble, "You guys are pretty different than what I thought you'd be like."
Rumble shot him a Look. "Don't believe everything you hear."
Icebreaker snorted. "Yeah, I think I can manage that. Was it a big shock, coming here?"
Buzzsaw squawked and took off, circling just above their heads, using her newly granted permission to fly. It would be revoked if she ventured near the flightpaths, or flew at more than thirty-four feet. She began to weave a series of Celtic knots in the air.
"Pretty much. Didn't think the Autoblots would come to rescue us, for one thing."
"Huh. So you still don't feel like part of the family."
"No, but that might be changing. Both Buzz and I felt Soundwave when we were in there. He's...different now. He's learned somethin', but I don't know what. And...you coulda killed him, but you didn't."
Prime might have enlightened him on what Soundwave had learned, but Prime was not present. Rumble continued, "When we were bonded to him before, we were all crazy; you had to be to survive around Megatron. Now he's sane. A little bit saner, anyway; I still don't think I'd trust the bot as far as I could throw him if I was Prime. It was loyalty to Megatron that kept Sounders from changin' sides, you know; he was far from the nuttiest one on that crew. That was...probably a tossup between Screamer and Megsy, with Sixshot comin' in third. But Sounders never questioned his loyalty, couldn't really, it's part of carrier programming. So we didn't either." The small symbiont shrugged. "Things are different now. We've changed, too. I don't feel like I have to be crazy anymore."
"Makes you different from Frenzy. He was crazy."
A small, reminiscent smile spread across Rumble's face. "He sure was."
They walked on in silence. Just as Buzzsaw came circling close, well under her ten-meter height limit, Rumble said, "I'm going to get my symbol removed."
"Be careful," Icy said. "Based on what I saw in Excellion's medbay, people might begin to think you're actually a nice guy."
Buzzsaw laughed so hard she almost fell out of the sky. She'd known that all along, but it would be nice to get that Rumble out from behind this Rumble.
-Sidhe Chronicles-
By late that Wednesday morning, the base was settling back into normal routine. For a given value of "normal," naturally.
Ratchet had seen to everyone who needed seeing to once they got back to base. Warp was still out like a light, which was beginning to worry the CMO, but scans showed nothing wrong. Emery McKuen amused himself by setting up a screen, for both visual and electronic blockage, around his berth. That allowed him to see his own patients despite his injury, which, perhaps in consequence, was repairing itself faster than Ratchet might otherwise have expected.
Soundwave and Blitzwing lay in stasis aboard Excellion; there was no one else in medbay beyond Barricade and his three accomplices, as Ratchet thought of them, who had just entered, and First Aid, working in the stock area across the room.
He rose and gestured Barricade and the Tiny Trine toward a medical berth.
First Aid flung up his helm. Ratchet paused in his journey, as his apprentice's panic flooded his own fields. ::Firsty, what's wrong?::
::Fireflight's leg!:: sent First Aid, and transmitted a file of fluids spurting.
Ratchet spun toward the Tiny Trine. "Barricade, you stay here! If the littles get bored I've got coloring books on my desk! Comm me if anyone else shows up!"
Even Decepticons knew better than to stop a medic on his way to disaster. Ratchet transformed and sped out the door.
The coloring books, in his absence, failed to hold. Stormy put his down perhaps five minutes later, and hopped down from the berth, spreading his wings to glide most of the way to the medical berth on which Warp lay unconscious. Barricade, distracted by Song, did not track his absence until Stormy had hit the floor and gone behind the screen shielding Warp from curious eyes.
His eyes had not drawn Stormy here. This bot had a signature like his sister's, one which he had not seen in anybot around them. Sure of his welcome everywhere on base, Stormy hopped up to the top of Warp's berth, and watched the youngling sleep.
-Sidhe Chronicles-
"Yes, you do," Ratchet said. Firmly. The "do" in question was "have to go to medbay."
Fireflight wilted under his servos. "But it's not so very bad, is it?" he said, deploying the Puppy Eyes, at which he was actually very good.
Ratchet hardened his spark, which made Wheeljack, half a corridor away, raise his helm, and smile. "Yes, it is. Your fibular strut is broken, Fireflight. It's cut energon and hydraulic lines. Apparently when Blitzwing whacked Superion, you got enough microfractures going that when you landed today, the strut gave."
"I wasn't paying attention," Fireflight said. "If I coulda landed better—"
Ratchet poured cold water all over that hope. "If you did that this time, and the next time, and each time after that, maybe you'd make it for a while. But every landing, even a perfect landing, stresses that strut. Sooner or later, it would give. Be glad it was now, and not in battle."
The Aerialbots peered over Ratchet's and Firsty's shoulders, watching intently. Silverbolt, very tall, held his brother's servo and could still stand far enough back to see over everyone else.
"Okay, let's get you back to medbay," Ratchet said, and prepared to lift Fireflight, whose leg was now splinted.
Two large hands landed on his shoulders. "That's all right, Ratchet, I'll do it," Silverbolt said.
Fireflight, who was to snugglers what Ironhide was to curmudgeons (a serious contender for the World's All-species Best), was very happy with this solution.
-Sidhe Chronicles-
Some few minutes after Stormy's departure, Barricade raised his helm to find him gone. "Song, where's your brother?"
She pointed to Warp's curtained berth.
Barricade stood up, at which Skimmer took flight, hovering like a giant hummingbird before flying around the curtain to land beside his brother. "What'cha doin', Stormy?"
"He gots a field like Song's!"
"Really?" Skimmer leaned closer, beak almost touching the unconscious youngling's nose, to get a better reading on the fields.
Barricade hissed at them, "What do you two think you're doing? Don't bother him! He needs to recover! Get back out here!"
He had down the parental Scold in a Whisper, but that proved insufficient: Warp's processor onlined. He came up in a panic, since the last thing he knew he had been possessed by Jazz.
And as soon as his optics onlined, there was a sharp beak a hand's width from his face.
Warp let out an undignified screech and performed the Panicked Flail, subcategory One-armed Because Your Other Arm is Magnetized to the Berth. He was sufficiently startled to manage a pretty good, if very limited, flail with this pinioned arm, which set the leads and energon lines with which it was festooned to jangling.
Stormy and Skimmer squawked and flew away.
The two sparklings and the ruffled, confused youngling settled. It took Warp longer; by the time his fields had evened out, the two Seekerlets were parked, again, on the foot of his berth.
Stormy barely let him figure out which way was up. "Can you teach Song how to warp? Can you?"
"What? Huh?" Warp shuttered his optics, then opened them, and repeated the process. The two were still there, bright yellow and dark blue. "Um, if you're the Seekerlets—where am I, Mission City?"
Stormy nodded. "Yeah! Can you teach her?"
"Well, uh, you're going to have to ask her parents. Hey! Is anybody with these kids? Hello?"
More of his faculties onlined, and he scanned, picked up on Barricade and Skysong. There was a privacy screen up somewhere behind strong fields, those of an adult, and he had no idea who or how many might be behind it.
Barricade pulled Warp's curtain back with the servo not supporting Song. "Hey. Sorry about the kids."
"No, it's OK, there's not too many of us with warp generators. He's probably never been around another bot with one before. Tell me this Song's generator isn't online?"
Song piped, "That's me!" about the time Barricade growled, "No way in the Pit!"
"Good," said Warp, and smiled at Song; he had reason to know just how colossally bad an idea that was. "What's goin' on?"
"Ratchet had to step out, something about one of the Aerialbots' legs."
"What...happened? And who are you? I'm Warp, by the way."
"Barricade. You might have guessed that Optimus Prime's forces raided Soundwave's hideout. Flatline's deactivated, Lugnut got away, and Sounders, Blitzy and two of the squishies are in custody. I guess you are too, but since you're still a mechling, I think they consider you more rescued than captured."
Warp took in the red optics for the first time. Too startled to remember his manners, he demanded, "You're just walking around loose?"
"The war's over, mech. Unless you did something like Flatline used to—"
The youngling shook his helm violently, and instantly regretted it: he was never sure later whether thinking of himself as someone like Flatline, or that motion, was responsible for what happened next.
Barricade scooped up a basin with his free servo and held it for the kid: Warp's tanks contained nothing to purge, but that didn't matter to his frame, which said, Now. Right now!
At that moment, Ratchet came in, Silverbolt and Fireflight in his wake, First Aid trailing. The medic's browplates contracted over his nose, and Ratchet snapped, "I told you to comm me!"
"You said comm you if anybody else showed up! Nobot else came in."
Ratchet growled something that was probably "Hit upside the helm a few times too many to have any common sense left" and turned his attention to Warp. "About time you decided to rejoin the living."
By tacit agreement, nobot mentioned exactly how that had happened. Ratchet checked the basin and noted that there was nothing in it. "Dry purge?"
"Yes, sir. I moved my helm, and it felt like I was gonna turn a tank inside out, but nothing came up."
"That's why you've got an energon drip. You took a hard hit to the helm, and suffered a really serious crash and reset. I had you in stasis for quite a while till we could get you back here and see if there was any damage. A purge is pretty common under those circumstances. I was starting to wonder about you taking your own sweet time booting up again. I need a medical hardline here, got to take a look at your boot log to see if there were any problems." The medic glanced at Barricade, and jerked his helm in the direction of out.
Barricade took the littles back to the other berth and sat down with them while Ratchet examined his patient.
Song clambered out of his arms to sit on his knee and peer up into her parent's optics, one clawed servo beseechingly on the forearm she'd just vacated. "But he's like me! I gots to talk to him!"
"Song," Barricade said patiently, "you will. When Ratchet gives the okay, if Warp feels up to it, you can talk to him again."
"He's gots to teach me how to warp!"
"If you ask him nicely, when he feels better," Barricade said, "I'm sure he will. But you will have to wait a bit, until you grow up. It's not good for a youngling to have her warp generator turned on until she's older, and then there's a limiter until she's about ready for her adult upgrades. I'm sure Warp will tell you that."
"Will I ever," Warp murmured, and Ratchet gave him a sharp glance.
"I can dial yours back if you like," the medic told his patient, "but I won't turn it off. Unlike Song out there, you've developed threat-reaction protocols that depend on having your generator online. The first time you felt threatened, you'd try to break your limiter, and do yourself worse damage than you would if I left well enough alone." He disconnected the hardline gently. "You were lucky. No errors introduced."
He offered the youngling his arm, and Warp grasped it to sit up.
And pondered the difference between being a conscripted child soldier and being a, a, bot—prisoner or rescuee, didn't matter—under the care of the Autobots. He hadn't been harmed, hadn't had his personality files wiped, a terror he lived in daily under Soundwave's servo. And Ratchet, stories of whom had been used to beat him into submission, had offered his arm strut as support to sit up.
Flatline would do what had to be done to leave you functional, maybe without turning off the pain sensors if he felt like it that day, and let you sit on, fall back onto, get up off, or fall from the medical berth as your circumstances dictated. And laugh if it was the last.
Stormy chose that moment to flap to the end of his berth. "Will you teach Song how to warp?" he said, shoving politeness aside.
"When she should know, I'll teach her, once her parents give me permission," Warp said gravely, and was startled at smile that flashed across Stormy's faceplates.
"I'll tell her!" he said excitedly, and flapped off.
Ratchet grumbled, "It isn't like I haven't told them seventeen times each not to violate patient confidentiality."
But Song's shrieks of glee across the medbay brought a smile to Warp's faceplates, and to Ratchet's too: although he hid it immediately behind a scowl, because, after all, he had a reputation to maintain.
Too late. Warp, who once had every reason to be observant of the adults around him, had seen and noted that transient smile.
End Part Eleven
