With One Small Gesture..

Ratchet

Eight Terran months ago...

"The coordinates panned out. We've recovered the escape pod, and gotten telemetry to find the general whereabouts of your ship." Prowl is all business. He doesn't agree to taking in strays. He told Optimus that these two would be nothing but trouble for us. I don't agree. But really, Prowl and I rarely agree on anything. It's one of the reasons we work well together.

The femme sits on the floor, eschewing any manner of comfort. She leans against our only functioning C.R chamber. Her brother, her words, not ours, floats in the tube, insensate and offline thanks to the damage he sustained during the crash. She's only in slightly better condition, and nothing I seem to say can get to her move away from the chamber so I can tend to her own damage.

She's regarding Prowl, as impassive as a monolith. It's hard to tell what she's thinking; hard to read her face, behind the lowered optical shield. She doesn't speak. She hasn't said much since we fished the two of them out of the ocean. I know his designation is Halogen, but she hasn't even told us her own name. Prowl's exhaust pipes rattle with a sigh.

"You know, I figured that you would at least have some manner of reaction to the news," Prowl spreads his hands wide, the universal gesture of surrender. "But there's nothing, not even the slightest glimmer of pleasure, or hope, or even anger."

That gets her attention. "Pleasure? Hope? You have got to be joking." Oddly, I like the sound of her vocalizer. Her tone is mellow, and even, and she keeps a soft volume. "My ship was destroyed in orbit of this pitiful, backworld slum. My team is shattered; my contract void, and worst of all, I'm stuck here.. because you're stuck here." She gestures around, indicating the scuttled hull of the Ark. I wince in sympathy as her shoulder joint seizes, throwing a brief cascade of sparks. "So tell me again, how your little salvage mission is supposed to make me feel better?"

Prowl looks at me. His logic circuits are running in circles with that one. So I step forward.

"Honestly, I'm just hoping there's enough left of your ship to salvage parts so we can have a second working C.R chamber. Or maybe even a fusion coil..." She leans her head back against the glass, one corner of her mouth quirking into the approximation of a smile. I take that as encouragement, and move forward, waving Prowl's concern off as I step past him. "You know, I should really take a look at your shoulder."

"Be my guest," she agrees, surprising me. "But I'm not leaving my brother."

I can't help but chuckle. The loyalty she's displaying to her incapacitated compatriot is impressive, but I'm wondering just how much pain she's really in. "You must have circuit dampeners, hm?" I ask as I kneel down in front of her. "Otherwise, I'm not sure how you're still online."

"Stubborn." She concedes that with a laugh. I catch a gleam of scarlet as she glances up at Halogen's form in the tube. "Why do you care?"

I take her arm and start testing range of motion. There's resistance at odd points in the arc, making me believe that she's got shrapnel lodged somewhere. "It's sort of my job. Chief Medical Officer, and all."

"Your security officer there thinks that we're threats."

I glance over my shoulder, and see Prowl watching, his arms crossed over his breastplate. "And is he right?"

"He's not entirely wrong." Her vocalizer hitches at the end, pain finally registering as I pull her arm forward and up. The admission worries me, and I pause, to study her face, before adjusting my grip on her arm. "Nnngh.. but we're only threats to those we're contracted to deal with."

Mercenaries. "Can you hold your arm like this? You have shrapnel-" I have to shield my face from a shower of sparks as she twists her arm to give me access to the panel beneath her armor. She feels it. There's a grimace on her face as she sustains the position long enough for me to spot the shard of metal. I don't doubt that it's from her crashed escape pod. I picked enough pieces out of her brother's armor to recognize the material. I'm not sure how to follow up to the knowledge that we're now harboring a for-hire mercenary team.

Prowl, however, has no such hesitation. "Mercenaries. Currently under contract?"

I sense the negative shake of her head, and while she's distracted for the moment, I yank the sliver of metal. I expect to get spattered with system fluids, and for a moment, there's a spurt of slick purple, and then... nothing. The femme reacts with unexpected strength, yanking her arm free and grabbing me by the throat.

"Primus take you, circuit breaker!" She hisses in my face, the low, mellow tone I'd thought was pleasing becomes virulently threatening. This time though, she doesn't pull a blade on me. Not like when she first came back online. This situation is only a little less tense than that one.

Prowl shifts slightly just behind me. I ignore the comm ping from him, and focus on the femme at the end of the arm. "Your arm must feel better." The shard is held between my fingers as I hold my hands up in peace. She's starting to relax.

"Stand down, Prowl, for Primus' sake, please." I finally transmit back in reply to a second comm ping. "I've got this."

"Last time you said that, we were mopping up rust for cycles." Prowl grumps, but I hear him retreat that step.

All at once, I'm released. I rock back slightly, and my armor rattles with a shake, as I try to settle myself. "So there's nothing I can say to convince you to take a recharge berth in the medbay?"

She looks up at the cryotube again, and I have my answer as she touches the glass lightly. She won't leave him. I rub my chin thoughtfully.

"Okay, so why don't I bring the recharge to you?" She looks towards me. "I'll trade you... Your name for some creature comforts?"

After a moment, the optical shield she wears retracts into the crest of her helm. Her optics are scarlet, dimmed in brightness, but scarlet nonetheless. Neither of them wear any insignia. Prowl doesn't trust anyone who professes neutrality.

"Nightshade. I am.. I was... master of arms of the Raven."

I turn to give Prowl a gesture, and find that he's already retreated from the room. He'll be getting a few mechs to help bring in a recharge bed. Meanwhile, I notice that she's not given me a city-state, or an indication of where she's from on Cybertron. It could be nothing, but it could mean everything. I push myself up from the floor and head to one of the smaller Teletran consoles. "Since you won't leave him.. you might like something to do?" When I return to her, I offer her the datapad that Teletran gave me.

After a moments hesitation, she reaches up for it. There are no sparks with the action this time. "What is it?"

"Books. Terran authors... a couple of my favorites, in fact." Her dimmed optics drop to scan the screen, and I have a small sense of triumph. There's no dismissal. No holier-than-thou attitude. I'd bet good shanix that she's curious about this 'pitiful, backworld slum'. "Make yourself comfortable, Nightshade."

They'll be staying a while. They are as stranded as we are...