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Fandom: Transformers Bayverse (Pre-RotF AU)
Pairing: Mirage/Dartmond, Ratchet/Ironhide
Rating: PG
Codes: Het, Slash
Summary: Bloody Mary has invited Prime, Ratchet, Ironhide and Mirage to her base for what they all hope is a happy reunion and a little more inter-agency socializing. Another No-Nightshade chapter.
Units of time:
solar cycle-a local day
lunar cycle-local month
stellar cycle-a local year
nanoklik-1 second
klik-1.2 minutes
breem-8.3 minutes
joor-1 hour
orn-a day on Cybertron (31 joor)
decaorn-a 'week' on Cybertron (8 orn)
metacycle-a 'month' on Cybertron (1600 orn, 200 decaorn, 5.66 Terran years)
vorn-a 'year' on Cybertron (16 metacycle, 128 decaorn, 25600 orn, 90.53 Terran years)
A Wolf in the Fold 21: Visiting Court Mont
"I am counting on you to be a diplomat here, old friend," Prime reminded his former chief diplomat of times long gone.
"Have I ever let you down?" Ratchet huffed as the NEST C-17's loading ramp lowered. "It may have been a while, but I remember the game."
"Good," Prime smiled to himself.
The four Autobots rolled onto the tarmac of a base that was strikingly similar to their own. Humans, mostly military, went about on foot or in native vehicles. Here and there a Cybertronian in alt or base mode could be detected. On the far side of the sizable facility their audio receptors could pick up the familiar clang and rumble of mechs sparring and a shooting range beyond that.
It was a difficult reminder to tell themselves that there wasn't a single individual here that had ever called Cybertron home, and likely none that cared about the war with the Decepticons or the fate of the world that should have been their home.
Standing at the edge of the tarmac were two familiar forms and a deep green femme as tall as Ratchet and built much like Jazz.
Bloody Mary strode up to them with a warm, welcoming smile as they transformed. DerRitter stood on her right, heavy riffle slung across his shoulder as before. The highly polished, perfectly waxed and detailed femme stood on Mary's left without visible weapons, though from her optics every Autobot there suspected her processors were her primary one.
"Welcome to Court Mont," Mary greeted them. "I believe you know my bodyguard, DerRitter," she inclined her head towards him. "Dartmond is a social scientist and perhaps the finest linguist and singer I've had the pleasure to work with," she indicated the femme. "Unless you object, she requested to be your primary contact here. If you need anything, simply comm her."
The dark green femme had become ever more excited as the explanation happened. Though she kept it under control, Ratchet frowned at the spike in energy coursing through her systems.
"Thank you for inviting us," Optimus rumbled. "How have things progressed with Skyfire?"
"Quite well," she motioned them to follow as she turned towards the Cybertronian-sized buildings that dominated one side of the spread-out complex. "If Ratchet agrees, we plan to bring him out of stasis in the morning.
"If I agree?" the CMO raised an optic ridge at her.
"You are far more competent to tell if it is safe for him than anyone here," Mary glanced over her shoulder at him. "We've turned our mechanics and tech specialists into medics of a sort, but this goes far beyond field repairs."
"That is true," Ratchet nodded, though he was privately pleased that she thought such of him after their last encounter. It wasn't lost on his diplomatic programming how much more relaxed - nearly to the point of a different personality - she seemed to have here. It backed up a theory he was building, but he had to have time with at least several of the others before he was sure. "From the data you sent, I'd say he's reasonably intact physically. His spark is definitely intact, amazingly enough. The state of his CPU, processors and memory banks is something you don't have the scanners to determine."
"If you would prefer to download the base map and your access codes so you can check on him instead of taking the tour, you may," Mary offered with a knowing look and sent him the code to get the information for himself. "You are not the first medic I've dealt with," she chuckled at his surprised expression. "Vannet, our best mechanic and the closest thing to a Cybertronian medic we have, is in the cryo-hanger preparing for tomorrow."
"Are you sure you haven't been a base commander?" Ratchet narrowed his optics at her even as he downloaded the map, complete with notes on what every room and building was, what they contained and what areas they wanted him to stay clear of. He'd have to try to screw up with the data packet provided.
He was completely certain that was the point too. No plausible deniability if they were found somewhere they shouldn't be.
"A base commander, no," she chuckled softly in honest amusement. "But I have had my share of command positions for missions. Coordinating the ops portion of an invasion will do wonders for one's ability to anticipate."
Ratchet humphed before transforming and rolling towards the building marked as the cryo-hanger on the map. In the data packet was also a quick reference of the mechs and humans on base; designation, purpose and a picture.
In all, it was a rather impressive welcome package for a guest that wasn't expected to be there a week.
No plausible deniability filtered into his thoughts once more.
There was no other reason he could come up with for a lifelong spy and infiltrator to be so free with information, much less the gift of Skyfire's freedom.
Prime gave a small nod as he watched Ratchet's alt mode disappear around a multi-story building.
"You are welcome to full use of the facilities while you are here," Mary picked up as she guided them around the base. "All I ask is that you abide by the restrictions in the welcome packet. There are areas designated human-only, where the support staff can relax without fear of being stepped on or run over by an inattentive mech. Likewise there are mech-only areas where we can relax without having to watch for small squishy things running around underfoot."
"Well, at least without having to worry about humans being underfoot," Dartmond flicked an optic off and on in an imitations wink from where she was walking on Mirage's right. "The animals don't pay much attention to our signs, but they tend to be better at avoiding us too. Not many mechs are quiet enough to avoid their notice."
"Hound is one of the few who can sneak up on them, but he does have to try," Mirage gave her a smile in return, fully aware that she wanted his attentions before he left. It was odd, being a more acceptable first berthmate than Jazz because they couldn't relax around him. Yet if Nightshade was anything to go by, he could understand in a way. These were people who had no hardcoded moral checks on what they would do and assessed Jazz as just like them.
Mirage may be willing to do what he had to, but he had some morals, his Tower's morals, hardcoded into him. Jazz, he was sure, had been brought on line a SpecOps agent, even if his commander refused to speak of how he became an Autobot or what happened before.
"Sparring field," Mary motioned to a large dirt covered area cordoned off by cement traffic barriers where two pairs of mechs, a light and heavy build in each pairing, were facing off against each other in weaponless combat. "Nightcap is up against a'Sombra. The other heavy is Tango, up against Jayston. They're both former civvies."
"How well are your former civilians adapting?" Prime asked as he watched the decidedly different combat styles developed in the absence of any Cybertronian training and quietly marveled at the adaptability of the former humans. Those under his command continued to astound him day to day, but these had built a functional society, learned new bodies, reworked combat techniques, forged a place for themselves in the world and coped with all that had happened to them. In less than a stellar cycle there was nothing he could pick up that called out to him as troublesome.
He had to wonder if Mary was the social architect, or merely the visible leader.
"I expect with the same variance as yours," she chuckled lightly. "A couple have decided God is definitely real and loves them. Some are coping day to day as best they can. Most of us had some level of not-normal in our lives already. This may have been an exponential step up in the weird events department, but we were already somewhat accustomed to different when it hit. Your Allspark did not choose randomly," she added with quiet confidence. "If it had, the death rate in this first year should have been close to ninety-five percent. As it stand, the only dead I know of were from violence."
"You've lost people already?" Prime asked gently.
Mary just nodded at first. "Two from this unit, three others before we found them."
"Do you know who killed'm?" Ironhide rumbled, his cannons twirling lightly without fully activating.
"Four by Cons, one we aren't sure of," she lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. "Maybe Con, maybe humans."
"Humans ... you seriously think humans could have taken out one of us?" Ironhide regarded her dubiously as the tour continued.
"Knowing what I do, they definitely can with the right luck," she met his stare. "In much the same way that a combiner team is vulnerable. Improbable, not impossible."
"What made you consider humans?" Mirage asked her.
"Our weapons range is this way," Mary continued to the far side of the base where two of her heavier-built warriors were firing on moving ground targets. "The lack of high-energy weapon damage was a clue, but mostly it was the rather impressive number of crushed bodies in the area. He didn't go down quietly."
"Humph," Ironhide grumbled, turning his attention towards the firing range. "The gray one wasn't a soldier, was he?" he observed as they came close enough to tell who's shots where going where.
"A soldier, yes, but Partrie was, and is, a supply manager," Mary explained. "He wasn't trained for combat. With built in weapons like that though, he's learning. The rusty and tan camo is Shellshock, a sniper and field mechanic."
"How many mechs and femmes answer to you?" Mirage asked as they watched the target practice and Ironhide tried to keep from stomping up to Partrie and correcting him.
"Eleven mechs and four femmes," Mary responded, her optics making a critical appraisal of the two mechs. "Feel free to give him tips if you want," she added with a glance towards Ironhide. "He needs the help."
"Is everyone on base?" Optimus asked, keeping a careful check on his surprise at hearing there were sixteen former humans at this one facility.
"Everyone has quarters here, thought it rare for everyone to be around at the same time," she answered carefully, a subtle reminder that she didn't really trust them yet. "I did assign guest quarters on a couple assumptions I probably should not have made," Mary added as they headed back towards the buildings on the mech-only side of the base. "My understanding that Ratchet and Ironhide are a couple."
Ironhide made a grunt of confirmation of that. "For all he's likely to see the place."
"Yes, and that you would prefer to share quarters with him," she met the heavy frontliner's optics until he nodded, then shifted to Prime. "It followed that you and Mirage would prefer separate quarters, from them and each other, as your SO's are not here."
"That is quite agreeable to us," Prime nodded politely. "It would not be a hardship to share space, but it is a welcome luxury to have our own. What does SO mean?"
"Even if I am as unlikely to be in my quarters as Ratchet is his," Mirage gave her a knowing look and slightly bemused smile.
"Your sacrifices are greatly appreciated," Mary teased him in return, though her smile was genuine and her golden optics were warm with honest thanks. "Significant Other," she answered Prime. "Husband or wife are humans terms, mate and lover have ... connotations ... I'd prefer to avoid for now, not all couples are bonded as far as I've worked out," she half-shrugged in a hopeless gesture.
"I understand," Prime inclined his head slightly. "It is an acceptable term if you do not know. I do not believe anyone would take offence at it."
"Good," she relaxed fractionally.
"For reference, 'bonded' would be correct for Ironhide and Ratchet, Jazz and Prowl, Silver Shadow and Starjumper, as well as myself and Hound," Mirage offered information that he knew she wasn't expecting; valuable information in their line of work. An act of trust that Jazz had asked he play up as often as feasible with such 'little' gifts that didn't have an obvious answer in returned intel. It amused him to no end to be in the middle of and messenger for an Intel courting dance. He knew the principles, every SpecOps mech did, but making alliances and winning informants wasn't really something he did on his own. That was Jazz's talent.
"Bonded does not imply exclusive then," Mary cocked her head slightly with surprise brightening her optics.
"No," Mirage shook his head slightly. "A few bonded couples are, most are not. Sometimes one member is and one is not."
"Then there are triads, quads and more," Ironhide rumbled, just to make it that much harder on her.
"So, who should we avoid flirting with?" Dartmond's deep green optics glittered with mischief.
"Prowl, though more because you would be wasting your time than any objection Jazz may have," Mirage chuckled as he gave up more valuable, but unrestricted, intel mixed with a bit of gossip. "I'm fairly sure he never had intimacy protocols installed until Jazz talked him into it. Silver Shadow and Starjumper have been known to accept a lover now and then, but it's rare and it's always been a unit-mate, or for a mission. Everyone else on Earth, and most of those who may arrive, are available enough that flirting or a direct proposal will do no harm."
"Good to know," Mary made a thoughtful humm before walking into a building that briefly scanned each of them as they approached a set of automatic recessed doors large enough to permit Mary's weapon mode to walk through. "That was to confirm that you have clearance to be here. It's largely to keep the humans out, as this building is where we live. Half wake high-strung mechs and humans do not mix well."
"No they do not," Prime agreed from hard experience as he took in the simple design of the building they called home. It bore a great resemblance to his own base; quickly constructed, mostly re-purposed, left unfinished more often than not and with no real indication of who lived there.
"Where are the wash racks?" Ironhide suddenly asked. "Nothin's on the map."
"Attached to your quarters," Dartmond said with amused grin. "Most of us are from industrialized nations. Things like a private bathroom are very, very high on the list of luxuries we want."
"Particularly when you have so few that are still available," Mirage spoke with an even assurance of knowledge.
"Yes," Dartmond nodded a bit. "Food, clothes, bedding, touch..." she shook her head. "Showers might not be the same, but it's close enough to be nice. Especially for those of us who weren't Special Forces before all this."
"What were you?" Mirage asked politely.
"A freelance linguistics specialist. Whoever needed something translated could come to me for it. A couple dozen of us made up a network where at least one of us would know any given language involved. I did most of my work for universities and museums, some for governments and the occasional business. It's no longer a very useful specialty, though not as obsolete as I originally expected when I worked out we can just download a lingual packet and converse with anyone."
All three former humans stiffened and froze in the same moment, optics snapping to focus on Bloody Mary a nanoklik later as her expression went from annoyed to surprised to furious to something unreadable but unsettling.
"Dartmond, finish the tour," Mary turned to focus on Prime. "My apologies," her voice was as stiff as the rest of her frame as just managed to hold off the commands to transform. "Something needs my attention. I will be back before morning," she promised before lunging forward to land in weapon mode at a full run, DerRitter in alt mode right behind her.
"Did you catch the message?" Prime looked at Dartmond.
"Only that it happened. You learn fast around here not to decrypt what isn't meant for you," she said simply, a tiny trace of fear towards her leader showing through. "She hasn't killed anybody over it yet, but she's beaten a couple pretty bad. I rather prefer avoiding the shop when I can. Our 'medic' only knows marginally more than I do about fixing us," she added by way of reminder.
Three Cybertronians took a moment to assess both her statements about Bloody Mary and translate her lingual quirks.
"How would she likely take the offer of stationing one of our medics here until yours is suitably trained?" Prime asked diplomatically, his mind going to the results of a unit without a medic he'd seen over the vorn.
"She'd love it," Dartmond smiled at him with no effort to hide how much she was hoping it would happen. "Do you have one with a less abrasive manner? I'm not sure we'd survive Ratchet stuck on a base full of combat-trained kids with attitude issues."
Ironhide chuckled deeply. "Oh you would. You might not want to when he's done ranting, but you would."
Prime looked at his guard and weapon's specialist with a teasing glint in his optics. "Yes, but would all sides survive you training them?"
"Or our heavies training him," Dartmond snickered. "I saw your expression at what we've developed so far."
"Just how many of you were trained warriors before?" Ironhide asked, trying to get a feel for how the moves were founded.
"Mmm, all styles, probably twelve of sixteen," she decided as she stopped to show Prime the quarters assigned to him. "I think everyone had some level of training, whether from interest or military, but not everyone had more than a few classes."
Prime took a moment to look inside. A good-sized room with a few paintings of mountain or seascape decorated walls painted in the human-soothing shades of cream, blue, purple and deep red. A berth covered in a mech-safe versions of human bedding, a desk, two plush chairs and a small table.
"You did, however," Mirage said, half surprising Ironhide and eliciting a chuckle from Dartmond.
"Yes, I did," she inclined her head as the tour continued to Ironhide and Ratchet's quarters two doors down. "I briefly studied several styles until I found Choy Li Fut Kung Fu. I never trained to be a warrior, however. It has always been a method of last resort for me."
"Reasonable, for one who is not a warrior," Mirage stopped Ironhide's grumble. "It is an elegant style," he added after looking the form up on the internet. "You may find Cy-Kisn to your liking," he didn't even try to translate the name.
"I hope you're offering, 'cause I don't teach Tower dancing," Ironhide growled at him.
"If arrangements can be made, I am," Mirage gave him a withering look learned in the Towers but perfected in the army. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order to convince Bloody Mary."
::Calm, both of you.:: Prime's displeased tone had the desired effect. "I will discuss it with her. She may not want the influence on developing culture."
Dartmond cocked her head at him, her expression unreadable beyond some curiosity.
"I'm not sure that's occurred to any of us," she finally said. "This place is already a melting pot to put the United States to shame."
"Perhaps," Prime consented. "Yet we have already seen the beginnings of a unique culture, combat style and weapons with less than a year. It is not wrong to wish to protect that."
She gave a nod of acknowledgment but little more to the idea. "Mirage, these are your quarters," she had him tap in the code unique to the room. He only gave it a brief look; it was simple for a permanent facility, but nicer than he actually expected. The same size as the other two rooms, but colored in the bright blues, greens and whites he preferred and the paintings were spacescapes.
An absent check told him this was indeed the same room he had been assigned each of his previous three visits and he smiled faintly that someone had gone to the trouble of modifying it to the preferences they knew about.
"Why is this one different?" Ironhide asked after peaking in over Mirage's shoulder.
"Mirage has been here a few times. The changes were made so he'd be more comfortable," Dartmond explained. "It's customary for regular visitors to have permanent quarters assigned and modified for them."
"So you're a regular here, hu?" Ironhide leveled his glare at Mirage.
"If four times qualifies, then yes," he refused to take the bait of the thinly veiled insult.
"Jazz, Jolt and Windsong also have permanent quarters," Dartmond spoke up as they moved on to the adjoining building and the recreation center.
"So Mirage could give this tour as well as you can?" Ironhide looked over at her.
"The maps and packet you downloaded can do that," she gave a shrug. "I doubt I can add much to it. It's considered polite to give VIPs a guided tour," she informed him calmly. "If you'd rather spend time on the firing range or sparring, you are welcome to," she said easily.
"Then I will," Ironhide nodded and stalked off towards the firing range.
::I can occupy myself looking around,:: Prime offered privately to Mirage and received a faint nod in reply. "I would like to look around myself," he turned to Dartmond. "Why don't you catch Mirage up on events since his last visit?"
She shot the spy a look, then smiled at Prime. "Have fun looking around." the smile turned to a near-feral grin as she slid her arm around Mirage's and headed back towards the living quarters.