"Of Sparks and Cons"
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pushing her nervousness back as she shuttered her optics and vented air before pulling it back into her body to calm herself, Quicksilver unshuttered her optics and looked at the drone standing near a storage area. He was lean and tall, his visor-like optic flashing slightly as he worked internally on something. There was nothing malicious about him. In fact, he seemed to be one of the slower drones she had seen since moving aboard the warship. She was quite sure he'd never assisted Cascade in the residence, as she didn't recognize the damage on his armor, not did she recognize the rust spots. Most of the other drones seemed to take decent care of themselves, but he didn't seem too concerned about it.
Slowly, her courage worked its way up to a suitable level, and pushing herself away from the wall, Quicksilver stepped into the corridor properly. However, when the drone's helm swung her way and his optic focused, she squeaked a little and moved back into the shadows, hiding. Her reaction seemed to garner his attention far more than her simple presence and he moved so that his backstrut was perfectly straight. Still there was nothing menacing in his stance. Peeking around the corner of the connecting corridor, Quicksilver watched him for a few more breems.
When she did not emerge on her own, the drone tilted his helm to the side and spoke to her in a soft, soprano voice, "Little one, are you okay?"
He did not move toward her nor did he move away. Stepping around the connection in the two corridors, Quicksilver fiddled with her fingers before pulling in a large amount of air and speaking in a quick, hard to understand manner.
The mech looked at her in shock. It was surprising to Quicksilver how easy his emotional reactions were to read when he had not faceplate to reveal them.
"I apologize, but I have no idea what you just said," the mech stated, waving a servo before himself, lowering it to his side after he was done speaking.
As she vented air and tried to start again, a second, higher voice interrupted her and she yelped as a second drone appeared from, seemingly, nowhere.
"OH! One of the sparklings, isn't she so cute?!" this drone seemed to have an issue with excitement and his comrade firmly planted his servo onto his own faceplate and shock his helm.
"D33, really, must you act in such a manner? And can you not tell that she is the youngling, not one of the sparklings?" the mech Quicksivler had been attempting to approach demanded of the newcomer.
"Oh, well, they are all very young and precious… what is it you need, sweetie?" D33 asked, his voice going higher, if that was possible and a small thread of irritation at being treated like a sparkling no older than Windsplitter made it's way through Quicksilver's spark and into her processor.
Crossing her arms over her chestplating, she glowered at the offending drone. Before she could react, however, the other one reached over and clamped a servo over the lower front half of his comrade's helm and looked over at her calmly.
"Now, you wished to ask me a question, what was it?" the first drone sounded completely calm, reminding her of Renegade.
"…Renegade is requesting the assistance of a few drones in helping to move Wildcharger's things to his new quarters," Quicksilver managed to say it sedately. It seemed being angry helped her calm down… as odd as that was to imagine.
"Understood, we'll assist and I have another friend I can ask to join us," the mech nodded, releasing D33's helm, "I am Falsetto, this is D33."
Without really thinking, Quicksilver blurted out a question that she would have considered rude at any other time, "How come some of you have normal designations, but others don't?"
Falsetto looked at her for a moment and Quicksilver got a sense that he was humored by her question, when he spoke, his tone boistered that belief, "Because some of us prefer to have a designation as opposed to a number, contrary to popular belief, we are not subjugated slaves."
"Oh, sorry, that was rude," Quicksilver apologized, feeling sheepish about asking.
"Don't worry about it, I know we are different from you in some ways, but for the most part, we're very much so alike," Falsetto responded, turning and walking toward her. D33 followed, if he had a faceplate, he'd be beaming.
"Wildcharger's quarters are probably quite the mess, we've never really watched him and there was never any requirement for him to keep his quarters neat and tidy. I mean, it's not like any of us ever went in there, except to tell him he needed to go do something or that he was in trouble and place him in there. He was actually a pretty good mechling at first, then he started getting into trouble and even Breakdown was getting frustrated with him, but now it seems that he's starting to learn to behave and be respectful of his elders. This Renegade mech must be a really good mech cause I've never seen Wildcharger behave like that. He's always getting into trouble by playing pranks. The last prank he played was on Knockout. Primus was the medic mad, never dump oil on his tools…" D33 kept up the one-sided conversation as Quicksilver turned and followed the two of them toward Wildcharger's quarters.
As he walked past her, Falsetto shrugged his shoulders as though to say, 'there's nothing we can do about him.'
"Oh and this must be the amazing Renegade. Hello, I'm D33," D33 took Renegade's servo and shook it vigorously, finally being forced to stop when Renegade pulled his servo back.
Setting a servo to her faceplate, Quicksilver rubbed it up and down, trying to drown out every word that she had just been put through hearing along their path back to the messy compartment. Looking at Renegade from beneath her servo, she scowled slightly at the amused look he was giving her.
"D33, be quiet," Falsetto ordered, successfully putting an end to the mech's endless prattle, "Renegade, we are here to assist you. There is a third coming, however he has been held up by Commander Starscream."
"That is fine, as you can see, we have quite the mess on our hands," Renegade stated, indicating the compartment in question.
"We suspected as much, do you have crates or anything haul it in?" Falsetto asked, stopping short when Cascade appeared from around a corner, carrying a stack of three crates on each shoulder.
Squealing in excitement, Windsplitter dashed away from Renegade and ran to her creator's approaching form. With all optics watching, Cascade performed a balancing act that had a number of vents expelling air in admiration. By the time he was done, Windsplitter was sitting behind his neckplating, holding onto his helm, the stacks of crates quivering with each movement on either side of her.
Behind him, Dunestar watched the precariously positioned crates with a wary optic. In her arms, she carried two crates, one of which Quicksilver recognized as coming from her compartment and an irrational fear trespassed into her spark. Scooting back slightly so that she was a little further away, she watched silently.
"Quicksilver brought us a couple of strong, able mechs to assist," Renegade announced and both Cascade and Dunestar offered her smiles of approval.
"I didn't do that much," Quicksilver quickly pointed out. Falsetto had simply agreed and dragged D33 along for the ride.
"You faced your fears, that's doing far more than you know, Silver," Dunestar said, "I hope you don't mind, I had to take one of your crates."
"Uh, no, it's find, Dune," Quicksilver shook her helm, watching as Cascade managed to extricate himself from the six crates and Windsplitter at the same time.
"Everything is in two piles so far, keep and throw… the throw pile is a lot bigger than the keep pile," Renegade stated, indicating the compartment behind him. Quicksilver watched as Cascade looked inside and made that curious, high-pitched noise he often did when he was either impressed or in utter disbelief.
"I'll say… we'll need to make at least five trips to get rid of all that," Cascade pointed out, looking over at the two drones, "One of you can help me with that. We'll let the lovers handle the stuff the mechling's hanging onto."
Renegade and Dunestar exchanged glances at the 'lovers' term, but neither honored it with a response. At least not a verbal response. As Dunestar was walking past Cascade, she clapped him on the back. From the wince Cascade displayed, Quicksilver had a feeling it was a little harder than necessary.
"Primus femme, what were you built for? Heavy lifting?" Cascade teased, rubbing at the spot as though it still hurt.
"Hey! Don't you hurt my dad!" Windsplitter scolded, glowering up at Dunestar.
All of the adults looked down at her in utter surprise and Cascade knelt down, "What did you just call me?"
His voice was filled with uncertainty and it confused Windsplitter a little, but she still repeated it, "I called you dad… like Dusky does Rene… is that okay?"
"It's wonderful, sweetspark," Cascade pulled her into a tight hug and settled his lip plates against her helm as he held her tightly.
The sweet moment was completely ruined when D33 let out the same shrill sound he'd released at the sight of Quicksilver, "Ohh, that's so sweet! What an adorable pair… I gotta take an image of this, so you two can have it forever and never forget this moment. Hold on, there we go. I'll make sure to give you a copy on a data disc. I know how hard it is to find cute images in the Decepticon ranks, I mean, we're not supposed to get all warm and fuzzy about anything, we're all supposed to be cold and calculating, but I love it when mechs and femmes are sweet to one another."
Falsetto drew back his servo and smacked D33 on the back of the helm before venting a sigh and speaking, plainly and perfectly calmly, "Shut up you fritzing idiot and help Cascade with the garbage."
"Yes Falsetto," D33 whimpered slightly but his mood lightened perceptibly when Wildcharger exited the doorway and grinned up at him.
"I thought I heard you out here, come on, we're gonna need your help," Wildcharger reached up and grabbed D33's servo, dragging him into the compartment amidst a stream of conversation.
"You hit him," Duskwalker's tiny voice came out of the space behind Renegade's neckplating and Quicksilver searched for her, to no avail.
"Unfortunately, yes. At times it is required to remind him that speaking thusly is not always welcome. Do not worry, little one, I do not go around striking others without reason," Falsetto reassured her, "And I would never even consider striking one of you… I prefer my spark chamber intact."
"Wise mech," Renegade stated with a grim smile, "Tell me, what is your designation?"
"Falsetto," Falsetto answered simply, taking one of the crates set down by Cascade and entering the compartment.
Quicksilver watched him, keeping her distance from the others, but when her gaze was caught by Renegade, she opened her mouth to ask him the question that had been eating away at her ever since the end of the sparring match. When she closed her mouth once more, Renegade set the crate he had lifted aside and approached her, keeping a decent distance so that she could move away if she wanted to.
"You look as though you have a question for me, youngling," Renegade stated. He watched her closely, giving her the chance to make her decision on her own.
"I… I was wondering… back in the training center," Quicksilver stuttered, uncertain how to phrase the question without sounding rude, demanding, or as though she had been eavesdropping. Of those three, eavesdropping was the worst disobedience she could imagine. If she had been caught doing so, her creator would have knocked her about the helm before sending her to her quarters without any energon for a few days. But that was a long time ago and Renegade, as big and burly as he was, was not Hardcore.
"Yes," Renegade gave her the verbal nudge as Duskwalker emerged from behind his neckplating.
"You were talking with Dreadwing…I wasn't listening in, but I… got the feeling that it," Quicksilver continued to struggle, hating herself for not being confident that she could freely ask Renegade a question the way she could Searazor or Dunestar.
"That it was about you?" Renegade asked gently, his gaze was soft and his tone gentle. Quicksilver got the feeling that he would patiently wait her out well into the dark cycle.
"Yes… was it?" Quicksilver vented a sigh, feeling silly that it had taken her that long to ask that question.
"Yes, it was," Renegade responded simply.
"But, why?" Quicksilver pushed a little further, curiosity and fear driving her on. If she had caught the optic of one of the command crew, she had a great deal to worry about, or so it seemed. Why else had they been so serious?
"Because Dreadwing would like to become your mentor and train you," Renegade answered and he watched her closely.
She didn't disappoint him in an emotional reaction as her processor was assaulted by multiple emotions at once. Between the fear, worry, panic, and uncertainty there was a distinct feeling of curiosity and slight pride. He'd seen something in her that had made him want to take on the responsibility of training her. What it was, she could not fathom, she was not the toughest built of femmes and she most certainly was not the strongest or smartest.
"Easy there, I'm not going to let him train you alone right away. Cascade or I will be there with you," Renegade said, reaching out a servo to settle onto her shoulder armor. He stopped himself and placed it back down at his side.
"Why… why would he want to train me?" Quicksilver asked and Renegade knelt down, wincing at a squeak from his knee joints.
"I can't tell you that, you'll have to ask Dreadwing," Renegade stated, looking at her square in the optic, "But I want you to understand that, no matter what, I will not allow anyone to harm you. Under no circumstances is he to lay a finger on you. If he does, tell me and I will handle it."
"I know," Quicksilver nodded and she was being completely honest. If there was one thing Renegade had insisted upon since the day she had, inadvertently, met him, it was that no one would hurt her in his presence.
"Good, now," Renegade said, cringing once more as he stood, "Let's get this mess cleaned up. You four are going to take a stasis nap and then do a few lessons before free time."
Quicksilver did balk at that, "I don't think I need to be taking a nap."
Hearing herself say it, Quicksilver cowered slightly until a light chuckle escaped Renegade. Then she looked up at him and waited.
Looking back down at her, Renegade offered her an amused smile, "We'll see after we take care of this mess. If you still don't feel the need for it, then you'll not have to. The sparklings will, however."
Completely clearing and cleaning out the mess in Wildcharger's old compartment took several more hours, even with the added help of a third drone named Stormwall,. And each and every member of the group was exhausted by the end of it. Even D33 was silent as he lifted the last of the loads headed for the scrap shoot. Leaning against the wall, Quicksilver sank to the decking, looking over as Duskwalker approached her, her tail dragging on the floor. She flopped down beside her and laid her head upon Quicksilver's hip armor, venting a yawn. The other two joined them, settling down on Quicksilver's other side and leaning against her heavily.
Heavy footsteps alerted them to a new presence and Duskwalker suddenly disappeared behind Quicksilver. Not that Quicksilver felt any more secure in being seen by the large Decepticon leader than Duskwalker did.
However, he merely glanced down at them before walking past. Not a word was spoken, though he had taken note of what was happening, Quicksilver was sure. Duskwalker reappeared and crawled up into Quicksilver's lap, venting air and drawing it in hard. Setting a servo onto Duskwalker's small form, Quicksilver tried to calm her, but had little success and the moment Renegade appeared, Duskwalker ran to him, climbing his armor easily and disappearing into the hiding place in his chest plating. He did not argue with her or ask her what was wrong. Though he did give Quicksilver a curious look.
All Quicksilver could do was offer him a small shrug in answer. She didn't know what had upset the tiny femling any more than he did.
"I believe, we are done… Falsetto, thank you for your assistance, please thank D33 and Stormwall as well," Renegade stated, gripping Falsetto's lower arm plating in a friendly manner. Falsetto did the same before releasing him and waving to the others. Quicksilver watched him go, offering him a small wave in return.
"Let's go before we have two cranky sparklings and an equally cranky youngling to deal with," Dunestar groaned, stretching her back.
Huffing a little bit of air from her vents, Quicksilver scowled at her before standing up and dusting herself off. Both Wildcharger and Windsplitter looked up at her in surprise as they found themselves lying on the decking instead of halfway in her lap.
"Already sounds as though the youngling is there," Cascade commented, scooping Windsplitter up as he balanced the last of the crates.
"Hm hm," Dunestar agreed, "She doesn't handle being tired very well."
"Would you two stop picking on me?" Quicksilver asked, feeling like stomping her ped. The whine in her voice stopped her short of that and she set her fingers to the angled edge of her helm that hung between her optics, releasing air and pulling it back in to calm herself down.
"I'm sorry… I guess Renegade's right, I do need to rest," Quicksilver admitted sullenly.
"Thank you for apologizing, now let's go… I think I need a stasis nap too," Dunestar stated in all seriousness.
"Sounds like a plan," Cascade agreed.
"Instead of talking about, then I would recommend you all get moving ," Renegade stated gruffly, picking Wildcharger up and holding him close to his chestplating. The mechling curled into him and vented a soft sigh.
Jarring awake from stasis was an unpleasant experience, one that Quicksilver was far too accustomed to. Not for the first time, she wished she was more normal and did not have nightmares. She wondered if there was anything Knockout could do to repair her systems in that regard. Something that caused her to go into stasis and have all of the systems shut down properly, including her memory retrieval system.
How it would feel to recharge completely. She had to wonder at times.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the berth, she felt her wings shift at the movement. There were times she thanked Aero fervently for performing so many upgrades to her body. One of which was to give her wings far more movement by reattaching them via a ball and joint system. Each wing could move independently in any direction as well as shift whenever she needed to sit down, bend over, or fit through a tight space. It had also allowed for the room necessary for her thrusters to rise out of her back so she could take flight without the aid of transforming.
These thoughts reminded her of the memory nightmare that had brought her out of recharge and shivering, she wrapped her arms about herself tightly. When that did not work, she slid off of the berth's surface and moved toward the door into the common area. Opening it just far enough that she could hear and see what was going on beyond her compartment, she waited. There were the muffled sounds of conversation and she vented a sigh. It had not been very long since she had been sent to her berth, along with the sparklings, and she doubted any of the gathered adults would be impressed if she came out and announced that she was done recharging. But she didn't want to be inside her compartment either. After a nightmare, she never wanted to be in the same space as she experienced it in. it was just a weird habit she had formed after taking up residence on the colony world.
'Now what?' Quicksilver asked herself as she allowed the door to slide shut and looked back into her messy compartment, 'Suppose I can finish cleaning up in here… don't want to wind up on restriction for a month.' Windsplitter's announcement had surprised her, especially after she had made the connection between Wildcharger's messy former quarters and her own current ones.
Settling into rearranging and setting out her belongings, Quicksilver focused in and forgot about the time. Her processor dredged up old memories she preferred not to remember, but had no choice about and she felt herself going back in time with each one…
"Quicksilver, what do you think you're doing?"
Turning from the window, Quicksilver cowered, looking up into the faceplate of her angry femme creator, Skyshot. It had been only cycles or days as the Alterians called them, since they had arrived on Altera and already she had managed to get into more trouble than she had her entire life aboard the Harbinger.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I heard a noise and got scared, but then I realized it was coming from outside," Quicksilver explained, crying out when Skyshot reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her toward her.
Once they were closer together and Skyshot had knelt down, her gaze softened and she vented a soft sigh, "I'm sorry you got scared, but you're not supposed to be out of your berth during the dark cycle, you know that. That is not a new rule, little one. What would you have done, had it been Hardcore who found you?"
Hardcore was the mech half of her creators and Quicksilver had long ago decided he hated her. No matter what she did, no matter the reason, he insisted on punishing her severely and never showed remorse in doing so.
"I'm sorry, mama, I won't do it again," Quicksilver cried, leaning against Skyshot's armor. Skyshot did not envelope her in an embrace, nor did she set her cheekplating against the top of Quicksilver's helm, instead she pushed her away and pointed at the berth.
"Go on now, back into your berth."
Quicksilver looked over at the berth through teary optics and nodded, turning and walking away. When she reached it, she climbed the ladder that had been set into the side of the tall structure and lay down. Her tiny form fit into one corner of the massive platuea and she always felt small in that space.
"Now, do not move again, or I will have to punish you," Skyshot reminded and Quicksilver whimpered slightly before responding.
"Yes ma'am," the door closed before it was even completely out of her vocodor and she found herself in the darkness, all alone again. She had not been completely honest with her mother. It had not been a noise that had woken her and scared her. It had been something else. A memory that had come screaming out of the past, terrorizing her while she was in stasis. The fear was still clinging to her spark and she didn' t know how to get rid of it. Tailspin, the medic that had created her shell and placed her inside of it, had never mentioned anything about such an abnormality. Part of her young processor wondered if it wasn't something fatal. Maybe then, in the Well of Allsparks, she could get some peace. But there was more to it than that and she wanted to learn about it, even if it meant sneaking out again to see Analong, the Alterian who served as the medic for the colony.
That dark cycle or night passed slowly. Stasis never did return and by the time the twin suns rose, she was exhausted, grumpy, and completely at odds with herself. Unfortunately, it was Hardcore who came to rouse her from stasis.
"Get up, runt, your energon is waiting and then you have chores to do before you do your lessons," Hardcore snarled from the doorway. When she did not instantly move, he crossed the distance easily and dragged her over, dropping her from the berth. She hit the floor hard enough to make her yelp and wince as her arm sent pains into her processor.
Due to her lack of recharge, her temper flared and she got to her pedes unsteadily, holding her arm tightly against her abdominal plating, glaring up at the big dark mech. His red optics returned the glare balefully and a savage grin graced his lip plates as he moved to stand directly in front of her.
"Have something to say, brat?" Hardcore demanded, looking down from his towering height. The armor on his chestplating was smooth enough that she could clearly see his scarred faceplate, the red optics sitting above his sneering lipplates, but below the harsh lines of his upper helm. All of his amor was designed to intimidate as well as protect him.
On a normal day, Quicksilver would answer him politely with a simple no sir. But this was not a normal day. She had been woken by a strange phenomenon in the middle of the dark cycle, been scolded by her femme creator, and then dropped from her berth in a manner that had caused her pain. This was not a cycle that she cared to repeat, and yet, there was something about the way he was glaring at her, daring her to say something besides the normal response.
"I hate you," Quicksilver uttered the words in a softly angry tone and Hardcore made a big show of not hearing her.
"What was that? I didn't hear you, you're going to have to speak up, sweetspark," Hardcore sneered, turing the endearing term into anything but endearing.
"I hate you," Quicksilver ground out in a rougher voice and then, for no apparent reason other than she had fritzed, she started repeating it like an epitaph, louder and louder, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I HATE you, I HATE YOU!"
On the last 'you' his servo struck out and she was sent to the floor, her processor reeling from the strike across her faceplate. Even as the tears of coolant began to fall, she glowered up at him and spat it out one last time, adding the required 'sir' at the end. This sent Hardcore into a rage. All she could coherently remember from the punishment was copious amounts of pain, particularly in her wings. A weak point for all flyers. The next thing she remembered was waking up in the clinic, Analong hovering over her, moving urgently to put her back into stasis before the pain could fully register.
That had been the first time Hardcore had nearly deactivated her. For nothing more than speaking the truth.
Shaking slightly, Quicksilver started to reemerge from the memory, her body stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. That was the first thing she noticed, the next was the sense that there was a presence nearby and she looked to her right numbly. Renegade was kneeling beside her, his optics focused on her, concern edging every feature of his faceplate, and his mouthplates set in a grim line of worry.
"Rene… Renegade?" Quicksilver looked at him, shaking her helm slightly before shuddering and gripping her arm automatically at a remembered pain.
Before she could respond, Renegade was moving and had gripped her arm gently, running his fingers over it in concern. When he found nothing wrong, he set it back down against her body and looked her in the optics.
"Are you feeling all right?" Renegade asked, his voice filled with worry and Quicksilver felt a pang of guilt.
"Yes… I guess I just got so preoccupied with…" memories was the words she was going to say, but thought better of it, "what I was doing that I didn't realize you were there."
A glance at Renegade's gaze told her he didn't believe a word of it. But he let it drop and simply offered her slight smile.
"I think you can join us in the common area until the sparklings awake. It will give you a chance to get into your lessons so the others don't bother you," Renegade suggested, standing and offering her a servo up.
Indecision plagued her processor, but in the end she set her servo, slightly shaking, into his much larger one and allowed him to assist her to her pedes. Once she was standing on her own, she slipped her servo free and waited for him to lead her from the compartment. Instead, he looked down at her with a gentle gaze.
"If anything is bothering you or hurting you, you can come to either myself of one of the others, you know that, right?" Renegade asked, "We will never get angry with you for coming to us with a problem, no matter what it is."
"I know," Quicksilver acknowledged, "but, I'm not ready yet."
She hadn't meant to say that. What was wrong with her? First she's refusing to do as he says, then she's asking him questions or questioning him, and now she was admitting that something was wrong but she just didn't want to talk about it. Something was going wrong and she didn't know what it was.
"All right," Renegade agreed, "I won't force you to talk about and neither will Dune or Cascade."
Nodding, she swiped at her faceplate, hating the weakness she felt whenever the past haunted her. Without further words or attempts at getting her to talk, Renegade turned and led her from the compartment. Dunestar and Cascade were seated in the seating area, Cascade was going over plans on a data pad while Dunestar was reading a data pad, a cube of energon at her side. Both looked up as they exited with twin looks of worry. A gesture from Renegade stemmed their questions and they merely greeted Quicksilver before returning to what they were working on or reading.
Renegade handed her a data pad, a chip already installed and she brightened considerably. It was a new lesson on cyberbiology and she looked up at him curiously.
"Knockout had a copy on servo. I got it in exchange for promising to help him with his next upgrade," Renegade explained, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
Excitement flared in her spark and Quicksilver thanked him softly before finding a place beside the wall to hunker down and study. Conversation started up in the seating area, but she was too engrossed in the lesson to really notice.