Rating: T for adult themes. Language, violence, character death.
Disclaimer: The only thing I own in this work of complete fiction is Velocity/Sira. She is mine. Everything else is copy righted and owned by some really rich people. I make no money from this, but wish I could.
Beta read by Okamichan and Okami-myrrhibis. Thank you ladies for helping me tackle this and whip it into shape.
XxxX
Dirt
XxxX
Taking a length of re-bar the green mech stuck one end of it into the hard-pan of the desert and walked backwards, gouging a trail in the dirt "...And this?" He pointed one end of the metal pole to the drawing he had made.
Rolling her optics, the femme answered, "It's a line."
The mech crossed his stubby arms over his chest and stared at his pupil. "That is not what I mean and you know it."
"Fine, it's a straight line." Her attention barely wavered from the spine-covered lizard that had decided to sun himself on her foot.
The shutters over yellow optics opened wide then narrowed to irritated slits.
"A really pretty, straight line?" the crimson femme offered while batting her optic shutters, feigned innocence hung around her like a mist.
Cosmos rubbed a hand across his masked face in frustration. "Just measure the line."
"Oh fine." She rolled her optics again. Huffing, she bit off the words, "Its two hister, six and a quarter espes in length." Taking her finger, she chased the reptile away from her foot until she could stand without accidentally stepping on him.
Shaking his head in exasperation, the scientist walked a little further away and gouged another mark in the ground, this one with an angle in it. He pointed and waited, tapping his foot in annoyance.
Velocity activated her HUD and tagged both ends and the bend. Her processor took over, the sensation of having parts of her mind work without conscious thought bothered her. She knew that organic minds also carried out such things as regulating bodily functions, shuffling through memories and storing new information without the conscious mind being aware, but therein lay the difference... consciousness. Before, thinking seemed mysterious and magical, the mind functioned without her. Now, if she concentrated, she could detect the electrical pulses along the wires and chips of her processor. The feeling became a little disconcerting.
"One arn exactly, terminating in a forty-eight degree angle, then continuing for one hister and 3 espes. Come on Cosmos, we have been doing this since before sunup," she whined pleadingly.
The scientist gave her a measured look and handed her the makeshift writing tool. "Draw a 4 hister line," he ordered. "Prowl said that you are programmed to be metalworker, yet you are lacking the most basic of Cybertronian concepts. It is my job to ensure that you are adequately educated in that regard."
Velocity sneered and went about drawing a straight-line exactly four histers long. "If you'd let me use inches and feet or centimeters and meters, we wouldn't be out here, but, oh no, the superior robots can't be bothered to make the conversions." She grumbled loud enough for the Autobot to hear. When finished, she scratched out a large peace symbol, a stylized heart and a smiley face. Grinning wickedly at her own handiwork, she presented it to Cosmos.
The mech shook his head. "Are you ever serious?" he snapped testily.
"Not if I don't have to be. Some people actually enjoy the simple act of living," she answered while making the symbol for the Cybertronian equivalent of her name in the dust. Optimus had increased their lessons, he kept reiterating the importance of becoming proficient in her new language, and she had improved some. Now, she could catch about every fifth word he said to her, but some of the subtle variations continued to confuse her.
"Fine," snapped her teacher. He stomped over to the peace symbol and pointed at it. "Compute the diameter and radius of this, and explain in mathematical terms why it is not a perfect circle. Once you have completed that, I want you to tell me the lengths of the lines and the degree of the angles." Triumph glowed from the mech's optics.
Cosmos turned towards the base, his optics focusing on something in the distance. Velocity followed his gaze; a brown plum of dust kicked up by the tires of numerous vehicles hung along the horizon. Keeping her optics on the approaching Autobots, she quickly used her foot to wipe away the drawings before Cosmos could object.
XxxX
The winter air should have been cool, but a small warm front had pushed across the desert. That, coupled with the sun blazing down from a crystalline blue sky and reflecting off the metallic armor of the Ark, made it feel as if she stood next to an open oven. A breeze rocked the makeshift scaffolding that she stood on and without thinking; she locked one set of claws into a convenient seam on the spacecraft. Cosmos shifted and his considerable mass added to the sway of the platform.
"Could you be still?" she hissed, trying to concentrate on her work; dark lenses protected her optics from the searing light of the plasma torch. It had been embarrassing to learn that she had those tucked away in her helm.
Fortunately, no one had to show her how to use the equipment, she had similar items stashed in her workroom, but actually slicing through the thick alloy of the Ark proved to more formidable. In places the thick exo-armor, measured almost five terran feet thick. However, with a slight change in technique, she could get the job done. For most of the morning, she assisted the round-bodied mech in cutting loose chunks of the Ark to fit whatever requirements Cliffjumper relayed to them.
Cosmos stomped a couple of times, sending concussion vibrations throughout the surface they stood on. The thin boards bounced alarmingly and she tightened her grip. "I assure you that this is perfectly secure, and is rated for more than double our combined weight. Furthermore, if you were fall from this height, it is highly unlikely that you would sustain any critical damage..."
"Let's not find out?" Velocity snarled peevishly. She really didn't mind the height, but the way the platform bowed under the mech's weight made her apprehensive. His continuous movements along the scaffolding created an undulating motion that made it difficult for her to balance. She didn't care what the safety specs for the planking they stood upon stated; everything eventually had its point of failure.
Grinding her dental plates in annoyance, she went back to her task, certain that he had to have been doing that on purpose.
In typical Optimus fashion, her bondmate wanted the military buildings fortified, making the humans' barracks as impervious to attack as possible, and the inner circle agreed with him. No one said it, but she guessed that the missing Tony Melby sat at the back everyone's' minds, and all realized how vulnerable their human friends and allies were.
Finishing the vertical cut, she started the horizontal one that would meet with Cosmos's. He worked faster than she did, but she didn't have the luxury of built in weaponry that converted into cutting torches. They had labored together for several hours; he guided and checked her progress. Shortly the mech would turn her loose so she could work alone.
As the last espe of metal melted under the heat of her torch, the plate above her shifted. Giving it a weary optic, she hoped that the thin strip they left on top could hold it in place. The fall might not kill her, but she doubted having a large chunk of a spaceship land on top of her increased her chances for survival, and would hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Shutting off the torch and re-attaching the tip to the pack on her back, she readied for the final stage.
Finding sufficient finger and toeholds, Velocity used her claws to aid in her climb above the section she currently worked on. Making sure, she had a good grip on the side of the ship with one hand she used the other to catch the hoist line Warpath tossed to her. Working quickly she used the cables to secure the multi-ton slab of metal to the crane that towered over the Ark. She gave a thumbs-up to the human operating the massive piece of equipment. He nodded in acknowledgement and the machine hummed as it took up the slack in the line. Scrambling for a better position, she ignited her torch and cut the final hister to separate the armor from the side of the vessel.
The plate came loose with a startling creak of wires straining to the maximum. It swung in the Nevada breeze, suspended by cables that looked to thin to hold the weight. Reaching out, Velocity laid a hand on the side of the shinning slab in an attempt to keep it from spinning; she found the strobe-like effect of the sun's reflection disorienting.
Stressed metal moaned ominously, and sent shivers from her audios to her toes. She froze, and then looked around her nervously. Steel moaned again, this time longer and louder. The crane shuddered; a metallic bang preceded the slow lean of the heavy equipment. The treads on one side lifted off the dirt as it started to tip.
Velocity scrambled to get as far away as she could, but hanging by her claws off the side of Ark left few options for escape. She found herself within the shadow of the suspended slab of metal. It shifted, and sparks showered her from where the monolith had struck the side of the ship, scant arns away from her position. Desperately, she looked for a safe place to jump to, and down appeared the only option. Tensing, and curling her legs under her, she prepared to leap.
Below her, Warpath grabbed the listing piece of equipment with both hands trying to counterbalance the weight of the slab with his own considerable mass. He called out. Several Autobots scrambled to the crane, adding their weight to keep it from toppling over. Even from her perch high above, she could see the mechs straining to stabilize the machine. Their limbs strained and mechanoid feet dug into the dry earth for purchase. She saw a splash of red armor underneath the yellow hoist, Cliffjumper pushed against the teetering machine, while the others pulled. With a hollow thump the crane's treads landed, jostling the Autobots that refused to let go. The mechs continued to keep their hold, until the sheet of metal slowly swung to the side and touched the ground. Hearing her pump pound frantically in her chest, she waited a few minutes so it could slow.
The hypercoils in her legs shook with build-up tension and her hands refused to release their grip. Her body felt like it belonged to someone else and didn't want to respond to her demands. With agonizing slowness, Velocity cautiously made her way back down to the scaffolding. As soon as her foot touched the security of the not so secure planks, she collapsed. Sitting cross-legged, she rested her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands. She needed to calm down.
"Hmm... perhaps we should inform Ironhide that he needs to change his designs to accommodate smaller pieces of armor plating," Cosmos pondered while rubbing his masked face with his hand, seemingly unconcerned.
"Oh, you think," she replied with scathing sarcasm, never raising her head to look at the green mech.
XxxX
She spent the rest of the day laboring alone, feeling competent and in control.
Prowl assigned everyone their current tasks based on skill level and not rank. Optimus hauled trailers back and forth from the Ark to the base, and not once did she see him in his root mode, only as a flame covered Peterbilt. The same with Huffer; the other semi-shaped mech also pulled trailers to and from the ship. Cosmos disappeared to somewhere in the bowels of the ship with Ratchet and Smokescreen, while Warpath acted as supervisor, barking orders which most ignored and assisting the crane operator with the loading of trailers. The huge mech actually handled security. His weapons would hold off a Decepticon attack long enough for everyone to seek the limited safety of the ship. Every few minutes, he performed a long-range sweep, looking for trouble. From where she sat atop the Ark she could watch mechs and humans busy themselves as they attempted to strip a spaceship.
Taking the one of the markers she "borrowed" from a soldier with an artistic flare, she drew along an almost invisible seam, noting an imperfection for future reference. The femme cheerfully mused to herself, Sergeant Donaldson, shouldn't have left his supplies inside his Humvee, someone might rifle through his pack and take them.
Allowed to carry out her task as she saw fit, the femme quickly started identifying stressed areas, old welds, patches, and a whole list of imperfections that marred the outside of the hull. Any sections that looked as though they could have integrity issues were marked to worked around. She tried to line her cuts up with preexisting seams and send only perfect metal to Ironhide. Some of the other Autobots kidded her about using human techniques, but the method worked for her. She liked her job, she knew how to do her job and it made her content. She had even confused a few of the mechs by having a chipper demeanor for once.
As she drew a line to indicate a well-hidden weld, the ink quickly faded from black to gray and then disappeared all together. Shaking the marker vigorously, then she scribbled on the hull of the ship. Nothing, it had run out of ink. Spitting the cap she had wedged between her dental plates into her hand, she capped the spent writing instrument and made a mental note to buy Donaldson a new set.
With a flick of her wrist, she sent the item on a collision course with the back of Warpath's head. A faint "tink" sounded and the huge mech spun to glare up at her. Smiling, she shrugged, the squiggles, circles and straight lines that she had made with the marker now served as her backdrop.
Warpath cocked a brow arch in a lascivious manner, and she immediately regretted her actions. "Not a chance on Earth," she yelled, pulling another marker from the package.
"There is a small planet about twenty-six million miles from here. Would that work?" The tank smiled. To Velocity, his expression appeared humorous and lustful.
"Go fuck yourself," she hollered.
Warpath laughed and turned away from her to watch Cliffjumper's arrival.
A red jeep bounded across the dirt, his tires losing contact with the ground as he launched over small rises and then landing hard enough to bottom out a couple of times. Sliding to an abrupt halt, the mech kicked up dirt and almost choked the humans standing nearby. Rapidly transforming, Cliffjumper whistled to let her know he had arrived. She shook her head. Earlier that day, the jubilant mech had shaken the platform so badly she promised to shoot whoever didn't give her a heads-up before they started climbing. Apparently, he took her threat seriously.
The platform rocked and wobbled as the scout ascended to her perch. She resisted the urge to berate him for it; he had already received enough of an ass-chewing from her. A black and red hand appeared from below and she grabbed it, pulling. Once the mech stood safely next to her, she relaxed a little. Cliffjumper's boundless optimism made him easy to work around, once she learned to ignore his twitchy gestures and his exuberant chatter. She thought of him as cute, in the way small yippy-dogs were cute, once the urge to kick them subsided.
Mentally, she prepared herself for the list of oddly shaped pieces Ironhide would need. "What have you got for me this time? Does he want a perfect circle or something in the shape of the Eiffel Tower?"
The mech gave her a wide optic look while fiddling with something on his arm. "No, nothing like that. He wants thirty-eight five espe by twelve espe pieces," Cliffjumper announced as if this news should excite her.
"What the hell, is he doing, tiling the roof?" Her comment held more annoyance than she felt. The simplicity of the request baffled her.
Cliffjumper stepped away from her; the sensitive mech didn't seem to like it when she grumbled. "Um...he needs them to create blast shutters for the windows. Sergeant Epps pointed out that humans enjoy solar radiation. Apparently absorbing photons into their skin and viewing the ecosystem around them has a positive effect on their mood."
Velocity chuckled to herself, as she started to make notations on the side of the spaceship; lines indicated five espe wide sections. Igniting the torch, she dropped the protective lenses over her optics and went to work. When the first small plate came free, she laid it to the side then started on the second. Pausing in her work she turned and signaled the crane operator, a prearranged hand gesture telling him to relax. He gave her an "ok" sign in return, never bothering to take his feet off the console of the machine. She saw no reason to use the hoist, for she could easily pick up the brick-shaped slabs, and toss them at... to Warpath, hopefully hitting him with a couple for good measure.
A shadow blocked the sun and Velocity looked around, Cliffjumper stood right behind her, peering at her expectantly.
"Yes?" Normally the mech climbed down after delivering her the next set of cuts.
He shifted nervously from foot to foot, looking about as if he wanted to find the quickest escape route.
"Come on, out with it." She tried to make her tone as light and joking as possible, but it sounded shaky and weak in her audios. Mild apprehension fluttered in her chest told her that she probably didn't want to hear what he wanted to ask. Shooting down Warpath's come-ons gave her a twisted sense of satisfaction, turning down Cliffy would leave her feeling like hammered shit. Hopefully, the red mech just wanted to chat about the weather.
Scratching the back of his head, Cliffjumper made a few false starts before he finally managed to say what he wanted to. "Some of the Autobots calculated the probability that you are..." he trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with the subject he wanted to broach.
"I am what?" Velocity asked, her gears tightening involuntarily. This could be worse than an amorous request. If he asked sensitive questions, she didn't know how she should respond.
The scout looked everywhere, but at her. "Are you the last femme? For a long time only Arcee and Moonracer remained, but now they are both presumed to be with the Matrix and with you here we...we were wondering if you knew of the whereabouts of any others." Cliffjumper spoke so fast that it took Velocity a few seconds to process his words.
What could she say? She didn't know enough to form a reasonable lie. He had her in a corner.
In a quiet voice, she told all that she could. "I don't know of any other femmes." She turned back to her work hoping the 'Bot got the hint and shut up. His questions disturbed her far more than she wanted to admit.
Surprised optics stared at her and his frame twitched. "Surely you know who your creators are." Cocking his head to the side and moved a little closer to her. "They would have to be femmes since only femmes create femmes. If you tell me what region you were sparked in, I can narrow things down if your memory files are a little corrupted..."
"I have never been to Cybertron, so could we talk about something else." She struggled to keep her voice neutral, wanting nothing more than to tell the mech to "shut up". Continuing with her task, she sat another piece of metal down.
Moving to stand beside her, the mech seemed emboldened by the fact that she didn't show any hostility. His optics widened in awe. "You're from off-world? That is amazing. I have heard of that occurring, but it is considered extremely risky. Even in the controlled environment of the Sparking Chamber one out of every ten sparks wither and are lost. Your creators must have been very skilled..." Cliffjumper jerked. "That means you had progenitors, unless you are a child of the Allspark, but Prime didn't find the Allspark until he came here…"
Grinding her dental plates together, she focused with even more intensity to the blue-white glow of the plasma cutter. She couldn't comment, she didn't know what to say.
A hand gripped her shoulder, small twitches running along his fingers. "You were sparked here... on Earth… weren't you?"
"You talk too much," she growled, while turning her back to the Autobot. Tossing another slab of metal onto the ever-growing pile, she pointed at it. "Take that to 'Hide," biting off the words, she laced them with an arctic chill. She didn't have anything against Cliffjumper, except that she couldn't let anyone know about her past, and had to push aside her qualms about offending him to protect herself.
From that point on, the day started to drag. Whenever the scout had to talk to her, he wore an expression that mixed curiosity with awe. She understood that he wanted to know about her... all the new mechs did… but she couldn't answer their questions, she could only verbally snap at him when he asked. Even as she did, she could see more questions swirling in his optics.
XxxX
The sun had passed its zenith and the long shadows were fading away into night. Laying her head against the side of the Ark, Velocity decided that she might need a break. If need be, she could go several Terran days without recharging, but crawling over the outer hull of the Autobot ship like a spider on a fallen log finally started to take its toll on her systems. The amount of strain her feet, legs and talons had endured left them achy. A sure sign her body demanded rest to repair any damage she may have caused to it.
She sat down on the platform. The Autobots wouldn't stop until they completed the job, that was just how they rolled... literally. She could either be part of the crew or step aside, and stubborn pride wouldn't let her step aside.
Surveying the activity around her while she rested, she felt more than a little accomplished. Warpath had moved her platform for her at least seven different times during the day and she had single handedly cut and stripped the metal from a large section of the Ark. Naked, rib-like support struts marked where she had already sliced the armor from the vessel as if peeling blubber from the carcass of a dead whale. She had no idea what condition the inside of the ship would be like by now. Optimus had hauled load after load of equipment to the base. On one trip, she thought she saw the picture of Iacon that had hung in one of the long hallways wedged in his cab.
Shifting, Velocity grabbed the plasma cutter and dragged it towards her. Spinning it around, she sat about checking it over. The cutting tip had cooled enough to touch, so she made sure there weren't any stray bits of metal that had melted and hardened on it, causing a blockage. Running her hands along the hoses, she searched for splits or holes that could be disastrous later. The hoses were still snuggly attached and the tanks didn't appear to be any worse for the wear; they even showed to be half-full. Next, she went over the hooks and clamps used to attach the metal plates she cut loose to the crane, which currently sat idle, its operator enjoying a sandwich. One of the hooks no longer resembled a hook for it had twisted and warped out of shape; she sat that one aside and arranged the others in an orderly fashion.
While finishing up, she felt the telltale vibrations of a mech climbing her scaffolding... she felt a certain amount of ownership over the flimsy structure. Earlier, she carved her name in the corner on the off chance another mech desired her new property. Sighing, she stood and waited for Cliffjumper to reach her platform, so she could remind him to give her a heads-up before he started to ascend.
A light gray hand with long fingers reached up and grabbed the side of the planking. Before she had a chance to offer her assistance, Mirage swung himself up with a lithe grace that hid the raw strength required for such a feat.
Velocity schooled her features into what she hoped could pass as casual indifference, covering the shock of seeing that particular mech. Beyond their first meeting, he hadn't said one word to her.
"Where's Cliffjumper?" she asked shifting her weight to one leg.
The blue mech ignored her question and glanced at the markings she had made on the side of the ship, clearly unimpressed by her. "It appears you have plenty of time to..." His optics dimmed slightly then glowed brightly. "...doodle."
The contemptuous sneer on his face made her want to applaud him for finding the correct human word, but doubted he would appreciate her sarcasm. She didn't know anything about the mech and their previous encounter left her wanting little to do with him. She chose to take the higher ground and ignored him... for now.
"Do you have any requests from Ironhide or did you just come to check out the scenery?" Velocity held her tone in check, making sure her words didn't contain any of the irritation she felt. She even managed to smile at the mech.
"I assure you if this wasn't important, I wouldn't waste my time being up here. The weapons specialist requests a piece that is two arn in length and two arn and six espes in width." The way that Mirage said "weapon specialist" made her grind her dental plates. Humans used the same tone when they used racial slurs.
She had him repeat the measurements before she set to work. "So, where is Cliffjumper?" she asked, in an attempt to break some of the tension that hung in the air.
The mech crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. "Hound detected a reading on a security sweep. He and the scout went to investigate."
Velocity gave the Autobot a wide-opticked look, panic jolted through her system, and she whipped about, scanning the valley below. Warpath had left his post near the crane and stood upon a small rise, his optics staring off into the distance. She realized what a wonderful target she would make sitting so high up with so few places to run. Optimus would at least notify me if there were something wrong...wouldn't he? Apprehension whispered through the back of her mind, she wanted to seek the refuge of the below ground base. Having only met two Decepticons, the femme did not care to cross paths with any others. Fear made her hands tremble slightly and she reached out to her mate, seeking his comfort across their bond.
Prime quickly responded, calmly reassuring her before his attention turned away.
Velocity paused, her plasma torch burning unnecessarily into the armor of the Ark, neither she nor Optimus had acknowledged each other publicly or privately during the day. Metal sizzled and popped, she jumped, noticing the damage she inflicted to a perfectly good piece of plating, she focused on what she was doing and chided herself for wasting a nice section of alloy. He mind wanted to wallow in the implications of what it meant that they hadn't sought each other out. She hoped it didn't mean anything.
A shadow blocked the waning sunlight. Glancing to the side, Velocity noticed that Mirage had moved closer to her, his elegant face held a hard, haughty expression. She had almost forgotten that he still stood on the platform with her.
"You must think that you are rather special, don't you?" The animosity in his voice startled her.
Velocity furrowed her brow in a deep frown, but continued working, trying to let the remark roll off her like water off a duck's back.
He leaned closer, and his energy field crackled against hers.
It felt as if something cold had brushed along her and she resisted the urge to move away from him. "You think the Prime will honor you? He might enjoy overloading into you, but all you will ever be is a discharge receptacle." He laughed cruelly. "I have heard that femmes are particularly fun for such things."
The mech's malicious whispers burned in her audio ports, igniting a nuclear fury within her. Without thinking or looking, Velocity lashed out with the torch. The superheated argon scored a jagged path along the hull of the Ark, hissed through open air and missed the mech by mere inches. The Autobot scrambled backwards in a desperate attempt to get away from the thirty-thousand degree plasma. The femme snarled, a warning that any who knew her would heed.
The spy stood, his back rigid and his chin held high, cold blue optics burned with the same luminosity of the cutting torch that had narrowly missed him. A malevolent sneer twisted his face into a demonic mask. "Does the truth hurt? Once we are back on Cybertron, you will find yourself cast aside for one more befitting of the Prime's attentions." The mech didn't stay to hear her reply; with fast, sure movements, he descended to the ground and out of reach.
Her body shook with rage, and she quickly turned inward to block the emotions from her mate. Optimus had no business in this; it was personal, between her and Mirage. She wanted nothing more than to follow that Autobot and tear him apart. Cycling her vents, she forced her hands to stop shaking and unclenched her fists before moving to finish her work.
It took only minutes to have the slab of metal ready for transportation, checking the cables that would suspend it from the crane Velocity gave the operator a thumbs-up and moved to cut the last espes to free the alloy. She had done this at least a hundred times that day and never varied in her routine. She checked every cable, inspected all the hooks and clamps and took every step to protect the safety of the humans that were assisting the Autobots. As the piece of metal came free, it dropped a fraction in an inch until the cables supporting it tightened and stabilized.
Warpath helped guide the slab onto an awaiting flatbed, driven by a flame-covered semi. The femme smiled at her bondmate below. Mirage walked over to the trailer and gestured at the crane operator. The crane hummed, lifting the metal back into the air, and then sat it aside.
Velocity stared in shock for a second. "Hey, what's up?" she hollered.
The blue mech looked up at her. ::It is the wrong size,:: he responded over the comm. ::There is no need to shout.::
The femme dropped her gear on the platform and immediately scurried down the crossbars and support beams. Jumping the last fifty feet, she landed in mud that splattered her armor. Beyond the surprise of landing in mud in the middle of the Nevada desert, she gave it no further attention. "What do you mean it's the wrong size? I cut exactly what you told me," she yelled while moving towards Mirage.
"This is two arn by two arn and six espes. I asked for a two arn by six arn and two espes. Clearly you were not paying attention."
"I cut what you asked for, maybe you made the mistake." Velocity glared at the snide mech, her hands on her hips and her feet firmly planted. She knew she had cut exactly what he had said.
A diesel growled behind her, followed by the distinctive clicks and whirs of a Cybertronian changing form. Optimus stepped between her and Mirage; standing far enough from her that their energy fields didn't touch. The spy bowed deeply and greeted the Autobot commander with something in the High Iaconian dialect. The only phrase the femme translated sounded like, "most pleasured", to her audios.
"Suck ass," she quietly hissed to herself, but Optimus must have heard her. He met her optics, and shook his head slightly. Velocity remained silent, glaring unrepentantly at Mirage.
"What is going on?" The Prime's voice sounded casual, his body relaxed.
Mirage immediately explained the situation and extrapolated nicely on her incompetence. "Ironhide requested that someone relay a set of dimensions to the young femme in Cliffjumper's absence. I gave her the data and repeated it to ensure that she understood what was required. Once she began the assignment, she continued to ask on the whereabouts of Cliffjumper. Her attention seemed to stray from the job and her lack of focus has wasted time and sizable piece of precious armor. Perhaps we would be better suited to have a more skilled mech performing in her stead."
She fumed, but kept her vocals silent, schooling her features to hide the fury that began to roil within. Most of what he said contained enough truths to twist the situation against her.
Their "disagreement" had attracted the attention of others, mech and human alike. Heads turned and a few brave sparks walked closer. When Optimus turned to her, she didn't have an eloquently worded defense. She could not match Mirage's overly articulate and grandiose style.
"I cut the piece in the dimensions he gave me." She crossed her arms over her chest, lifted her chin into the air and waited. Prime responded immediately, but not in the way, she had imagined. His entire frame stiffened, and their bond flared open, sending his exasperation straight to her soul. The intensity of his displeasure left her in shock, making her pump thrum painfully within her chest; she took an involuntary step backwards before he slammed their connection shut. The blue Mosler moved closer to his commanding officer.
Standing with wide optics, she stared at her mate while he opened and closed his fists, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. Velocity had never felt that kind of emotion directed at her, it was akin to a slap in the face. Mustering her courage, she addressed him. "It will only take a few minutes to cut a new piece, I'll get on it right away...sir." Even to her audios, her voice sounded servile and defeated.
Optimus's brow arches knitted together in frustration. The mech acted as if he wanted to say something to her, but changed his mind. Instead, he addressed those standing nearby. "Prowl has just informed me that Secretary Keller arrived by helicopter. His presence was not expected; I must go and meet with him."
Mirage stepped closer to the Autobot leader, as she walked away. The blue mech gave her a knowing smirk then addressed Optimus. "I would be delighted to accompany you. I need to inform Ironhide of the setback."
Prime mumbled a quiet, "Very well," as he transformed back into a semi. The Autobot commander slowly rolled forward, then turned, a flashy blue racecar staying at his side.
Velocity stalked towards the Ark, ignoring the sound of heavy footfalls behind her. She refused to look back as two powerful engines faded into the distance. Replaying the events in her mind didn't help; she could still hear that arrogant voice giving her the measurements she had used. She even asked him to repeat them and he did so. He'd been the one to make the mistake, not her, but she was the one who ended up looking a fool.
A large hand touched her shoulder, and she swung her arm to knock the appendage away, not caring who wanted to console her. The muck under her feet slid with her movements and she landed on her back with all the gracefulness of a rock. The wet dirt sucked at her as she flailed around, trying to sit up. Bracing her elbows in the mire, she pushed only to have them slip out from under her. Giving up, she rolled onto her side and made it to her knees before Warpath offered his massive hand to her again. She ignored the offer, preferring to remain where she was.
"What the fuck!' she yelled making a fist and punching the mud repeatedly. The thick, slurping sound only made her madder. There shouldn't be mud here.
Pulling her arm back to assault the ground once more, she couldn't figure out why it wouldn't respond to her commands. Whipping her head, she noticed pale green and yellow fingers wrapped around her wrist. She tugged and it wouldn't release it's vice like grip. Looking around Velocity found herself staring into the yellow optics of Cosmos.
"Downshift, you are making a mess," the mech stated reasonably.
She gave a bark of mirthless laughter. "Why is this even here?" Picking up a handful of sludge, it oozed between her fingers and fell back to the ground with thick plops. Addressing the mud issue seemed safer than dealing with what had happened between her, Optimus and Mirage.
The mech shrugged. "It is a simple leak. While dismantling the starboard engines they pierced a coolant line," He gave as an explanation while offering his hand to her. She accepted.
"So the Autobots are letting God-knows-what-chemical to leach..." she looked around to determine the size of the problem, "...into a couple dozen acres of land. Absolutely brilliant. The media will love this," her voice dripped with sarcasm. Testing her footing, before taking the next step, Velocity slowly made her way to the base of her platform.
"Ratchet has already determined that the coolant will pose little or no threat to the organic life in the area. If anything, it could be deemed as beneficial considering the lack of precipitation in this region." Cosmos's heavier build didn't seem to be much of a deterrent for walking through the viscous earth, if anything, his wider feet acted like snowshoes, and didn't sink near as far as her slender ones. He strolled along with minimal effort while she struggled to just remain upright. The parched desert soil rapidly absorbed every available drop of moisture, sucking it deeper and deeper, making the mud deeper and deeper.
Reaching the pole-like legs of the scaffolding, Cosmos grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her to face him. "What has occurred between you and Mirage?" He asked in an unusually demanding voice.
"I have no clue what you are talking about." Grabbing a cross support above her she tightened the hypercoils in she arms, preparing to pull herself up. A firm hand held her in place.
"Velocity, I would rather have Starscream covering my back than Mirage, for I know the seeker will attempt to shoot me." His matter-of-fact tone caused her to pause and consider his words.
Cocking her head to the side, she looked at him expectantly. She released the scaffolding, and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you know about Mirage?"
Cosmos gave her an appraising look, and then moved deeper into the shadows under the Ark; he beckoned her to follow him. She did, then chose a place along the bulk head to lean against. Crossing her arms, she waited. This started to feel like a scene out of a spy movie, or a badly written drama.
The mech glanced around nervously, his yellow optics cast an eerie glow on the hull of the spaceship, and he spoke barely louder than a whisper. "Mirage is not to be trusted. His loyalties are divided."
Her curiosity piqued, Velocity remained absolutely still. "Ok...why? I need a little more than vague insinuations. I despise Mirage, but that doesn't mean that he is anything other than an Autobot."
The flier reached for her and she took a step back, lifting her chin in subtle warning. Sorrow lit Cosmos's optics, but something hard and unyielding laid buried deep within the amber glow. "I lack sufficient evidence to bring my suspicions before the Prime, but disclosing validated information is harmless enough." He paused to look around before continuing. "Mirage hails from the aristocratic elite."
Velocity frowned, looking past the mech she wondered if she had missed something. She tapped her fingers against her elbow. "Clarify," she demanded, watching Warpath talk to the crane operator.
Cosmos cocked his head to the side then squinted his optics in a smile. "I apologize. Data I consider base knowledge is unknown to you. The aristocrats held the majority of the wealth, power and political influence on the planet, and only those with an unbroken lineage back to one of the original thirteen could call himself a noble. The Legend of Primus stated that he created thirteen beings to populate his world and within each of them, he instilled a piece of his own spark. To be of the Noble class a mech must have resulted from the union of two other nobles. As far as I know the only Autobots of Nobility are Ratchet and Mirage, the rest of their peers sided with Megatron." He held up his finger to shush her before she could ask any questions. "Rumors have surrounded Optimus, because it has been a long held belief that only a direct descendant of Primus can bear the matrix. However, most of the nobles have wanted to unseat the current Prime from the first orn he ascended. They consider him a fraud and degenerate, but back to Mirage. "
She didn't want to get back to Mirage; she wanted to know more about the matrix and Optimus. The thought of anyone thinking Optimus as a "fraud and degenerate" rankled her, but she kept quiet. Perhaps she could ask the scientist questions after he had finished explaining about the hated, blue Mosler.
"Mirage held a reputation for throwing lavish parties where only the upper members of Cybertronian society were in attendance. I can assure you that having the Prime and the Lord High Protector along with members from the Council of Ancients as guests was considered the epitome of prestige. But the problem arises that to have such excessive venues one needs access to massive amounts of credits to throw away."
The heavily armored mech had Velocity's attention, and without thinking she took a step towards him, mud squished under her feet. He leaned closer, only a couple of feet from her.
Tapping a finger in the palm of his hand, Cosmos continued. "There is some evidence to support the whispered claims that Mirage has spent a considerable amount of his fortune, and has turned to selling information his position gave him access to. How much of it went to Decepticon audios is open for debate, but it is known that the Prime severed almost all ties with the Nobility right before the war began in earnest."
Velocity turned to look out from under the wing that had given them a measure of privacy. The sky had turned a deep purple with feathery clouds the color of padparadscha sapphires and Venus shone like a bright beacon from her home in the heavens. Her mind spun at a frantic rate making connections that may or may not have been there. Scanning the activity she looked for a flash of blue to warn of Mirage's return, but the mech didn't reappear. She turned back to Cosmos, her mouth turned downward in a deep frown. "Surely Optimus is aware of this?"
The green Autobot nodded. "I am certain that the Prime has been informed of Mirage's past, but I still have my concerns. He is accustomed to living a lifestyle few mechs would dare to dream about and none could ever achieve, and what good is it to survive a war only to be unable to buy an astroliter of low grade?"
She let the implications of the mech's words sink in, and cold dread pooled at the base of her spinal support. "Do you think he is still selling information?" Her mind ran in circles. If what Cosmos told her had the slightest bit of truth, then... she didn't want to think about the implications.
The mech shifted nervously and looked around again. He leaned close to her, taking her hands in his. "I fear that Mirage has betrayed the Autobots in the worst possible way, and I cannot prove it...yet." His golden optics burned with the righteous fervor of a zealot. "Just promise me that you will remain weary of Mirage. One such as yourself might be considered an easy target."
Velocity stared at Cosmos, the mech's vagueness and the somber tones of his words left more questions in her mind than answers. She wanted to shake the Autobot and force him to spew out everything he knew and all that he had only assumptions for. Instead, she stood with him holding her hands and a look of stupefied shock on her face. "Why would you think such a thing about a fellow Autobot? No offense, but you did spend some time in stasis here on Earth."
Golden optics smiled at her, and a chuckle escaped his processor. "No offense taken. I find it refreshing that you question what I have told you, for without evidence you have no reason to believe me." He paused, seeming to gather himself before he continued. "Many vorns ago I had the displeasure of intercepting part of a communiqué between Mirage and a known Decepticon supporter. I cannot risk telling you what that message contained, because if rumor reached the wrong audios, I fear that Mirage would disappear again, like he did after Jetfire escaped from custody."
Her body stiffened, and powerful hypercoils tensed, she wanted to tackle him and force more information out of him. Instead, she locked her gears and suppressed the violent urge. She didn't know who Jetfire was, or what he did, but the implications that Mirage had helped him escape fell all around her like hailstones.
Cosmos suddenly scrutinized her hands, as though they were the most fascinating thing in the world. He turned them over, stroking his fingers over the dings in her paintwork, seemingly utterly focused on her palm. "I don't think you have done enough damage to notify Ratchet. This should repair itself during your next recharge."
Velocity stared at the mech and tried to pull her hands back. His incongruous remark made her wonder if he had blown a fuse... until Cliffjumper came bobbing up beside her.
"Did you damage yourself?" The bubbly mech attempted to look at her hands, but Cosmos pressed her palms together, keeping the damage free surfaces out of sight.
Cosmos addressed the red scout. "Nothing that warrants concern. She should be able to continue her assignments."
She slowly pulled her hands out of the green mech's grasp. Looking at Cliffjumper she asked, "What have you got for me?"
The red mech fidgeted, glancing over his shoulder. "Ironhide wants to know what is taking so long."
XxxX
Tired didn't describe how she felt. Her body ached in places she didn't know she had, her mind had given up trying to sort out the events of the day...well, yesterday considering the sun had already lightened the sky again. While working she chewed on Cosmos's words, and didn't come up with any sensible conclusions. She fumed to herself about Mirage's hostility and about Optimus's displeasure. She became annoyed at Cliffjumper's endless questions and observations. Rational thought had long since abandoned her, as had her sense of humor. Every problem she faced had a mech attached to it, and mechs were the last damn things she wanted to deal with at the moment. And what did she behold before her optics, but a mess of mechs, all dripping wet and shrouded in steam.
Rubbing her head wearily, the femme leaned a shoulder against the slick wall. Cold, wet soil stuck to almost every part of her frame and she wanted it off. She had slipped no less than three times in the sticky, slimy filth and it proceeded to cover almost every part of her body. Fortunately, she wasn't the only one. Prowl had lost his balance twice as had Wheeljack. The grit ground in her gears making her movements jerky and uncomfortable, it fell off her in clumps and splatted on the floor where she stood. She only wanted a shower, but every stall had at least one mech in it and a few had a couple of mechs squeezed into the tight area. All of their optics glowed at her, until some of them turned back to their bathing unconcerned.
"Hey, you can come join me. I'll get you polished right up." Warpath hollered at her while he vigorously scrubbed at his chest.
Mustering up enough energy to sneer, she thrust her chin in the air. "Go polish yourself," she said without much inflection, and wondered if the 'Bot would understand the reference. It would be a while before the mechs cleared out and she didn't want to stand around waiting, which involved too much effort.
She sluggishly made her way down the hall, dragging her hand over the wall to keep herself from falling over. She made it to her quarters and finally to her bed. Sitting on the hard surface of the bunk, she wondered how long it would take before she could have a turn in the showers. Another warning flashed across her HUD and she ignored it as she had ignored the previous ones. She hurt and wanted to sleep and a bath... a real bath, with deep, hot water that she could recline in, and bubbles. Lots and lots of bubbles. Maybe scented of lavender or rosemary. Something strong, heady and soothing.
Velocity felt the shutters to her optics flutter as static filled her vision. The world receded and her limbs weighed a couple of tons. Thoughts came at an infuriatingly slow rate, jumbled together.
Fatigue took its toll and her systems went into a rapid shutdown before she could override them.
XxxX
After a long and stressful day, Optimus wanted nothing more than to relax, and spend a little time unwinding with his bonded. Things had started easy enough. It wasn't often that he could indulge in menial labor and not have to make any decisions; today most of those fell to Ironhide. The warrior had shown his legendary skills as an architect by tackling the issues of reinforcing the military buildings, without stressing their internal framework, leaving the Prime with nothing to do but stay out of the way. Prowl had immediately told him to start pulling a trailer, and he had obliged. Under his leadership, the mech with the best skills for the circumstances stepped forward and lead the way. A weapons specialist had taken charge, the Prime became a labor bot, but curiously the SIC remained the SIC. The flexibility in the Autobot chain of command made them far more efficient than the rigid hierarchy of the Decepticons. Once the Secretary of Defense had arrived, events took a more serious turn; Cosmos had run out of time and the House wanted answers. Keller delivered the message in person so that there would be little doubt of the seriousness of the situation. An Autobot delegation had to be in Washington within a week.
Walking through the antechamber he used as his office, Prime located his mate on his sensors. A thrill passed along his circuits; he had been able to steal a few glimpses of the red femme as she scrambled along the outside of the Ark unaware of his optics following her. He enjoyed watching her move; she had a smooth, organic grace that translated well into her svelte form.
Long strides carried him down the hall and to their recharge chamber at the very end. An anticipatory growl rumbled in his chest as he keyed in the code to unlock the door. The growl ended in an odd choke when his optics found his bondmate. Velocity lay on her side, precariously balanced on the edge of the bunk, her feet were almost touching the ground and her slender arms dangled in the air. The femme looked as though she had fallen into recharge the instant her aft had touched the berth and fell over. Optimus felt certain that was what had happened given her unnatural pose and the fact that dirt covered most of her body.
Sighing, he walked over to her, attempting to muffle his footfalls so he didn't startle her. "Velocity," he whispered, trying to find a clean place on her frame to touch her, but that proved almost impossible. The mud caked nearly every part, masquerading the red fembot as a dirt clod. Giving up his attempt at locating scarlet armor, he stroked her head and whispered her name again. A chunk of grime fell off and broke apart on their bunk. Optimus made a snort of disgust.
Rubbing his face with his hand, he decided niceties were a waste of time. Velocity needed to get up and she needed to get clean. "You are disgusting and not recharging in my bunk like this, so up," he snapped in a tone that normally made his generals stand at attention. The femme didn't even twitch; she only slowly cycled her vents.
Her lack of response left him confused, but only for an astrosecond. He grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her while barking her name... nothing. Worry started to tease its way into his thoughts, but to contact Ratchet for a slumbering femme would guarantee a slew of snide comments. Scanning her quickly, he didn't find any injuries or anything that would obviously result in system failures. Nothing that would warrant the CMO's attention. He settled on a different route
::Optimus Prime to Prowl.:: he called over a secured communications frequency.
::Sir.:: came the SIC's neutral reply.
He paused trying to phrase his query as to not be overly obvious. He gave up and decided on the direct approach. ::Could you enlighten me as to why I have a completely unresponsive femme in my bunk?::
The long stretch of silence from the tactician informed him he had caught the mech completely off guard, a feat in and of itself.
::Sir, I have conferred with Ironhide and he suggests that your situation could be the result of poor technique or the fact that Velocity worked without a break.:: the SIC responded with perfectly professional tones.
Optimus wondered if he should demote both mechs, but he dropped the idea. With no one to replace them, he would have to promote the twins, and acknowledging the comment would only give 'Hide a reason to continue to goad him. Stroking the femme's helm, he smiled softly at her. ::Where is Ironhide now?::
::Sitting across from me in my office. We are assessing the progress made on the Ark today.:: That explained why Ironhide had been brought into the conversation.
Sighing in defeat, Optimus looked at the exhausted, dirty femme. He didn't like it when she pushed herself past her endurance parameters. ::Prowl, take Velocity off the duty roster for tomorrow.:: He closed the line before his SIC had a chance to respond.
Standing with his arms crossed over his chest he wondered what the best course of action should be. He could open the fourth room that neither of them used and recharge in there, but that wasn't his... their bunk. Leaning over he uncrossed his arms and put a hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip. Annoyed, he effortlessly pushed the femme away from the edge; dried, crumbling dirt marked her trail. She softly cycled her vents and he wondered how much dirt clogged her filters. Prime shook his head and wiped as much of the mess into the floor as he could before climbing in beside his mate and powering down.
XxxX
A/N: Important: the rating for this fic is about to change to M for sex and violence. If this is a problem with any of my readers, please let me know and we can work something out.
Plasma cutters can burn at 30,000 degrees Fahrenheit and are fueled with oxygen, nitrogen or argon. Yay, Google. Just for reference the movie states that sabot rounds burn at 6,000 degrees, so Mirage really did want to get out of the way.
To Taluliaka - Don't feel bad, It has taken me a month to update HOTF. Thank you I shall try to include more turbo squirrels, they are slippery lil' buggers though. To Ladyofthebookworms - Prowl never does anything without good reason, so don't hate him. What do you want to bet Catherine had her house fumigated? To Camilla DeWinter - Thank you, there are more developments to come. I am glad someone noticed Prowl's comment, he really is a decent mech. To LibraryDrone SAR - Thank you. I have always wondered how the "energy field concept would really work and influence their social dynamics. Sorry, behaviorist at work. To Cybernetic Mango - *sniff sniff* I miss Steve he was just so perfect for parody. To Novamyth - Prowl never acts without a good reason. He is only concerned about everybody's well-being. And Lysol wouldn't kill Simmons germs. To everyone who has placed this on favorite and alerts, thank you. To those who don't comment, don't be shy, I don't bite…much.