Chapter 25: Jealousy

Humans had a term for it. They had terms for everything. The fleshy medic used it awhile back. Funny how a species with a CPU the size of a data chip could walk upright, let alone come up with an extensive vocabulary to express their every emotion.

It did come as a surprise in a faint off kind of way. That much he could fairly admit. Ever since the water inducing prank a few earth weeks back, the fleshy medic had become a minuscule companion to the black weapons specialist. The gruff Autobot seemed to strangely enjoy cracking light jokes in her presence, even letting her do a few minor upkeeps on him. From a silent distance, Thundercracker observed the older mech on several occasions bring himself down to her eye level as if some new impenetrable bond brewed between them.

Not that Thundercracker cared.

Big deal. So she had a new mechanical interest. Whooptee do.

But as he strolled into the Autobot base from patrol, Thundercracker knew pulling his fleshy medic away from her new "Cybertronian buddy" was imperative. The familiar tingling sensation forming in his circuits wasn't going to allow otherwise.

"TC, are you alright?" Bluestreak said, concern tight in his voice.

Bumblebee strolled up the Seeker and chimed in. "Yeah, TC, you feeling okay today? It looked like you were having a hard time up there in the air. Or was that a new aerial move you taught yourself?"

The Seeker did not laugh. Thundercracker stopped in his tingly tracks and gripped his hands together, trying to stop the sensation from running up his chest plate. "Yeah, big bird, having my wing span tipped to one side is a new aerial move because flying straight makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Ask another useless question!"

The yellow Autobot continued his taunting. "I thought since you like being a smart aft so much maybe you were trying the same with your flying."

Thundercracker opened his mouth but the bubbly voice floating overhead from the command center made ever sensor inside him burn. Airy heehee laughter. More bubbliness. Like a feather twirling in the wind. Thundercracker saw her, eyes flashing at the black Autobot in front of her, body language relaxed and easy.

She's MY personal medic! Designated specifically to me! Not those slaggin' Autobots! Thundercracker said to himself. What he wouldn't have given for a tack pin to burst their little cheery aft bubble into diabolic oblivion.

Walking directly up to her, Thundercracker stood with his arms crossed. The weapons specialist and his fleshy medic continued their conversation about the benefits of ethanol fuel versus the petroleum based gasoline. Every now and then the Autobot nodded in casual agreement from what the tiny human was telling him.

I should sock his aft clear across the command center, Thundercracker thought. It was tantalizing to say the least. But he needed the fleshy medic. Instead he stood still, glaring daggers as they continued ignoring his obvious presence.

"Need something, Seeker?" Ironhide finally scoffed.

Thundercracker ignored the black mech and looked down at the fleshy medic. He pinched his fingers together at his side, trying to keep the piercing sensation in its place.

"I need that capacitor wire replaced now," Thundercracker said, not realizing how terse it really came out.

Nyree's eyes combed the grey Seeker over. "You just had that wire replaced when Ratchet and I did that major overhaul on you."

"And I need it replaced again."

Nyree shook her head. "No."

"No?" Thundercracker repeated. Did he hear her right? She was actually telling him no?

Nyree didn't budge at the Seeker's heated stance. She put her shoulders back and held her head high. "No, as in N-O. You're just doing this so you can try another one of your stupid pranks on me again. I'm not falling for it."

"This isn't a prank!"

Ironhide snickered at the Seeker's desperation. "Seems you're just slag out of luck."

There was nothing better than assaulting an already keyed up Autobot. But as it stood, his alloyed fingertips almost numb, Thundercracker ignored the antagonizing remark, much to his crushing dismay.

"I'm not trying to play a prank on you, squish," Thundercracker said.

"You know, TC, I had a welt on my stomach for two days from that water hitting me so hard. Two days!" Nyree replied.

She shook her head and turned to Ironhide, smiling. "I'm glad we had this conversation. I always learn so much when we talk."

A killer scowl took over Thundercracker. Enough of this farkin slag!

Mocking the high pitch of her voice, not being able to stand it any longer, Thundercracker erupted in rude anger. "I always learn so much when we talk. What a bunch of rotted slag!"

Ironhide's blue optics raised a bit. "What, TC? A little...jealous? Get over it, Seeker. Life's a glitch isn't it?"

Thundercracker glared venom at the weapons specialist. "Glitch?! You want to see a glitch?!"

"Hey Hide! Can you come over here for a sec!"

Another few tense seconds continued to pass between the two mechs. Hearing a disgruntled snort from the Autobot, Thundercracker watched the weapons specialist finally back up first.

"Nyree, we can converse later if you would like," Ironhide said.

Nyree flashed him a warm smile, nodding back. The black Autobot shot Thundercracker one last challenging sneer and then turned on his heels to see what their lieutenant wanted.

Nyree started walking away without another glance upward. Thundercracker let out a soft sigh.

"It wasn't supposed to come out that hard. I was just trying to have some slaggin' fun. I'm…I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had a welt, is that better?"

Nyree stopped in her tracks. For a minute, Thundercracker wasn't sure if she even heard him. But then she turned around.

"Capacitor wire, huh?"

Thundercracker nodded back.

"Alright," Nyree said. "Give me a few minutes. I've gotta get a few tools. I'll meet you out on the runway."

Sitting on the runway, feeling his medic's gentle prodding and pulling, Thundercracker recalled the first time he let her replace it. How her hands nearly put him into recharge. And as he sat feeling the familiar gentle pressing, Thundercracker remembered something she had talked about awhile back - something which stirred up numerous unfathomable insecurities.

"Squish?"

"Hmm?"

Whenever she responded that way, Thundercracker knew she was submerged into her job. It was a redeeming personality trait. So small and easily damaged, but yet so concentrated and dedicated. To which, few, if any other flesh creatures measured up to.

Thundercracker hesitated then. Never in all his created existence had he ever hesitated at anything. He knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to ask. But how could he phrase it in a non abrasive manner to where she wouldn't think he was trying to be, as she had so eloquently put it, a "snide ass alien"? The medic's words came back to him.

Judging from the very non polite way you ask for things, I would say your speaking ability could use some improvement. When you have found the logic circuit to ask nicely, I will be more than happy to oblige.

Thundercracker took a deep breath in and then let it out.

"I want to, to, ask you something," he said, trying to muster as much politeness as possible. It wasn't easy.

"What is it?" Nyree's distracted voice called out.

"Do ronins…"

"What, TC? Do ronins what?"

Thundercracker's words tumbled out. "You fleshies have a written analysis I've been reading. Bushido. It talks about honor. Do ronins ever find honor? If they're always drifting, then does that mean they'll never find purpose?"

An exalted sigh of relief escaped his vocalizer. A few moments passed before a sinking feeling took hold.

Maybe she doesn't want to reply. Maybe it reminds her of that night.

Finally, she answered.

"Ronins find purpose when they embrace their destinies. Whatever destiny that may be. That's why they're ronins. See, the actual labeling of being called ronin means nothing, not really. It's a state of mental influx. I think that's what they call it, I'm not sure. It's been awhile since my dad told me those stories but I do remember he said it was about being on a self vision quest."

"A vision quest?" Thundercracker repeated. What did she mean by "vision quest"?

"Yeah," Nyree said. "Samurai's are experts at warfare, but they don't get that way without complete mental and physical awareness. A ronin knows the same, it's just that for them, they've lost their way. So their whole thing of being balanced is thrown off. Them drifting is supposed to eventually lead them to their destiny and when that happens, supposedly, they see a vision of their purpose. They just have to keep on their winding path to get to that. Does that help a little? I know it's a pretty rough explanation."

Intriguing it was. There was simple logic to it - simplicity weaved with difficult contradictions Thundercracker wanted solved. And as he was about to utter an interested reply, a sharp current zapped through his systems. What the slag is she doing? Primus it feels like the inside of my wing is being electrocuted!

"Squish, what the slag was that?" Thundercracker grumbled, his normal crabbiness returning.

"Sorry, TC!" She called back. "That wire is being stubborn today. It doesn't wanna…hold on just a sec, I've just gotta -"

Suddenly, the Seeker felt it. A familiar connectivity restored. Another routine maintenance job completed. Another easy task.

Nyree climbed down the ladder and set it aside. She walked in front of him, standing directly in front of his optical sensors. An instinctive sense arose in the ex Decepticon. All the vorns spent with Starscream had granted privileged knowledge at spotting what deceit looked like. And the fleshy medic standing before him now was the epitome of it. The gloating way she looked at him, her crooked smile. Something was amiss and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Nyree cocked her head to one side. "Hope you like pavement, TC, cuz that's where you're gonna be planted on for quite some time."

All sensors and molding compressors skipped a worried over heated pulse. Thundercracker scrambled to transform. Mechanical hissing and then…nothing. Another try. Nothing. Not even a socket bearing budged. Pounding pressure sapped his body. Straining every Cybertronian ounce of strength left, Thundercracker tried forcing the transformation again. Nothing. Just motorized whirring and more pressue. He was…stuck.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME, SQUISH?"

Nyree's eyes narrowed on the Seeker. And then it dawned on him. This is revenge for that water prank! I know it! She's still huffing and puffing over that!

Nyree put her hands on her hips. "You know, TC, when you bent my fave locking wrench into a pretzel, I was okay with it. When you filled my tool box with that ass smelling grease, I was like 'fine whatever, ha ha, but your imitation of Hurricane Katrina was NOT cool!"

"What the fark did you do? Why can't I transform?"

"Oh that," Nyree blew on her finger nails. "Yeah, see, I've heard rumors about you, the pranks you played. Bumblebee and Blue are tight like that. Your little problem you're experiencing right now? It's a bite sized impulse control scrambler created by that sweetheart of a weapons specialist. God, I love him, TC, ya know? He's so warm and caring and -"

"SHUT UP! Shut the farkin' pit up! Spare me your paltry goody goody babble! I don't care if he offered the entire Saffray Nebulla to you! UNINSTALL THAT SCRAMBLER NOW! "

Fleeting memories of the Constructicons rooted to the floor floated into his memory circuits. Hilarious the whole shenanigan had been. Seeing them unable to move, hearing every imaginable Cybertronian obscenity spew out of their vocalizers. But the trapped, pressurized feeling was failing to bring about any type of animated praise or hilarity.

Nyree glanced down at her watch then. "Well, TC, it's time for me to head home now. I'd stay and shoot the shit with you cuz you're such a talkative morsel but I have people to meet, places to be," she said.

A smirky grin filled her face. Her lips pursed together. A weird sucking noise emitted. Thundercracker had seen it before. That motor mouth gunner had done it with his fleshy girlfriend. And he had seen it the night his fleshy medic had embraced the lieutenant. What the slag did those fraggin' humans call it? A kiss. Yes, that's what it was. A gesture of affection and compassion. Only this was not a gesture of heated affection, that much he clearly knew. The gesture was an arrogant victory proclamation. She had won and he had not.

Nyree waved a goodbye. "See ya oh big bitchy one!" She giggled and then started down the runway, heading to the double doors leading into the base.

"Squish!"

Walking. Farther.

"SQUISH!"

Laughter.

"HEY! GET YOUR SPONGY, BIPEDAL, DEFICIENT, INFERIOR AFT BACK HERE!"

Her back to him. The doors. Almost reaching them…

"I swear squish, I swear I'm gonna, I'm gonna…stomp…yes! Stomp the life right out of you! I'm gonna contort your body into a bearing orb and shoot it into the next galaxy! GET BACK HERE NOW!"

The runway doors clanked shut. The desert air settled on his exterior. The only companion for miles around.