One Half

By

LigerJager

…

Transformers © Various Creators & Companies

Chapter 5: Forgiveness

Ratchet stared in awe as he watched the body of the Dragoon Captain slowly inch its way into his med bay. The trailer the mech was secured to was being painstakingly directed into the hanger. It had been a long time since any of the Autobots had seen a dragon mech and he had forgotten just how titanic they could be and memories had not done RazorWind justice. They never did. The mech was even bigger than he remembered.

Granted he hadn't seen the Dragoon since before Battle of Tyger Pax, however he was sure the dragon hadn't been that big. In fact, he looked like he'd grown…which should have been impossible because it was well known that growth only occurred in organics. At least, that was what the Praxian database had concurred. Ratchet's optics widened slightly as he caught the thought.

Praxian.

He knew Praxian: Autobot, Decepticon, Neutral, Aerial, and Seeker alike, but that was just it. They were none of those. The Dragoons weren't Praxian, they were something else entirely.

They were both, organic…and mechanical? Was that the difference that made wielding their parts together so impossible?

And perhaps that was why RazorWind seemed taller?

Ratchet visibly shook his head. He'd have to ponder the thoughts for later. His thoughts became more taciturn, falling back into his normal mode. At the moment he had to concentrate on the large carcass and make sure the idiot driver delivering the captain wasn't going to ruin his med bay. Though, as the chartreuse medic observed the sheer size of the dragon's hulk, he definitely would have to make note of any changes (aside from the obvious damage) to better calculate which parts would best serve Jazz.

The medic tilted his head slightly and began running internal data file searches on his knowledge of Dragoons of the past. Judging from what he remembered of the Firstborn's bipedal transformation and a quick estimation of their final height, he'd say the Black Captain was about a half a head taller than Optimus. And though that might not have seemed like much, it made all the difference. Especially if the plating sizes had changed or certain parts were moved, which it seemed they were.

A crash forced the medical officer to return his attention to his med bay.

Instantly.

"What the FRAG do you Pit-Bound IDIOTS think you're doing?"

…

Prime had been keeping a close eye on his troops, specifically his Saboteur and Chief Medical Officer. Both had been uncharacteristically quiet and he couldn't get a read off of them, which was worrying the Autobot Commander more than he'd like to admit.

That said Optimus couldn't help the light grin that surfaced over his faceplates when he heard Ratchet's swearing from the makeshift medical bay's operation room, nor the relief that flooded his being. It there was one fact of life that he could always count on it was the Medic's wrath on those who dared harm his medical facilities.

Many woes befell the cocky and just plain stupid who tested the cranky bot's limits. Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker if he was there, had many anecdotes of their forays into that realm…and none of them pretty.

The Auto leader's optics meandered back towards the hanger where the operation was to take place. He hoped, for all their sakes, that everything would turn out fine. Because if not…

He'd be short of a medic and the rest of their hope.

…..

Ratchet surveyed his domain and slowly took a large breath before releasing it. He didn't need it, naturally, but going through the motions in fact calmed him. A state of mind he needed, badly.

The chartreuse mech picked up a wrench and activated one of his many scanners. The medical files of the Dragoon Mechs were at the ready in his processor. To his right lay the hulking form of the deceased RazorWind and to his left, on the operating table, lay the broken body of Jazz.

Straightening his back, and cricking his neck joints, the Chief Medical Officer of the Command Team began the most important operation of his long live life.

…

It had been a long week, for everyone. NEST was on edge because their Autobot backup refused to leave the island, and the mechs themselves were anxiously waiting for Ratchet to emerge from the med bay.

Every member, from the original contact team to the newest arrivals, waited with anxious anticipation for the hanger doors to open…Which he was doing right then.

All the mech straightened up immediately at the sight of the taciturn Autobot. It took every ounce of each Praxian's willpower to not jump Ratchet as he slowly slid the doors open.

Of course Optimus beat them all to the punch.

"Status Report."

The Medic looked up at his leader tiredly.

"Operation Complete. Status: Successful." He slumped lightly, his fatigue obvious, "I thought you'd like to be there for his activation."

Without even waiting for the command, the medic turned and slipped right back into the hanger. The first contact team, at Prime's bidding, were the only ones to follow.

Before them lay the gutted form of the once proud Dragoon Commander, Optimus turned his head away at the sight. It wasn't a fitting end for such a valiant mech, but it was his wish.

However their optics trailed to the now complete form of the once silver mech. The Prime could barely make out where the Praxian work ended and the Dragoon parts began. Ratchet had really outdone himself this time.

The medic, with the human equivalent of bag sunder his optics, stifled a yawn. He needed to get this over with and head into a much needed recharge. Glancing at his commanding officer, the mech received the nod.

So he reached over and jolted the prone form of their Black Ops Commander. For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then they heard it.

A click, followed by the sound of a function booting up in much the same way Earth's computer did.

The command team waited with baited breath as the optics flickered on and off. Slowly, like a long term coma patient coming out of a deep sleep, the silver mech's processes turned on, one by one. As each mechanism powered up, so too did the anticipation rise.

Finally the optics glowed a steady, bright blue behind the shielding visor. The saboteur shifted slightly before turning his helm to regard the medic.

"Where am I?"

::Twins Part II: To Be Continued::

A/N: Ratchet is all kinds of fun to write. Had no idea he'd agree with me so. Hmm…

LJ 9/23/10