Chapter 29
Unusual shadows
To say that Sideswipe was feeling sorry for Thundercracker would have sounded like an exaggeration, if not surreal. Pity was a very, very rare visitor to the gamut of feelings that the Autobot's processor computed, not to mention that he would have never wasted it on a Decepticon – especially if said Decepticon had been directly involved in the termination of his triplet brother.
But exceptions existed for strange reasons. Sideswipe was too cynical to say a comforting word, but he knew he was sorry for Thundercracker when he realized there was nothing amusing in the image of the defeated mech that was supposed to be an enemy.
"You look like junk…" he said, genuinely concerned. "Are you OK, Thundercracker?"
Sideswipe himself admitted how useless, not to mention stupid, his question had been. He was somehow thankful that Thundercracker didn't reply.
But it was when Sunstreaker approached Thundercracker that Sideswipe was completely sure about that strange feeling taking shape in his processor. The last thing he wanted to witness was his brother harassing or mocking the battered Decepticon.
"So," Sunstreaker said with a tone of voice that made his intentions impossible to detect. "Mind telling me what that was all about?"
As an answer, Thundercracker clenched his fists and uselessly tried to lift himself off the ground, obviously humiliated by the moment of weakness his enemies had witnessed.
"Not very talkative today, I see…" Sunstreaker continued. "Judging by your appearance, I'd say those wounds have an interesting story to tell."
"Leave the questioning for later. There could be more Decepticons in the area," Sideswipe said, stepping forward before his brother decided to finish what Thundercracker's former allies had started.
Sunstreaker's facial features were harder than iron; mockery was definitely absent that day. "Is that the case, Thundercracker? Are other Decepticons in the area? Are you ready to tell me who did this to you, or have you just discovered you have an addiction for pain? That wing of yours doesn't look good."
"Leave… me…" Thundercracker managed to say.
"Oh, you can speak after all. Now there's a start."
"There's no time for games, Sunny! We have to take him back to the Ark. He needs medical assistance immediately."
"I'm not playing any game."
"Sunny, come on! We can't leave him here."
"Who said anything about leaving him here?"
Sunstreaker kneeled, his leg grazing the bowed head of Thundercracker. "I just want to hear him saying please."
"Sunny…" Sideswipe's voice sounded like a plea.
But his brother wouldn't listen. "There's a magic word, Decepticon, a magic word that separates the living from the deactivated if the one listening is a mech of honour. Are you ready to say it?"
Thundercracker's only functional optic narrowed as his fists trembled in anger. Once again, Sideswipe wished such moment had never existed.
"Slag… you…" the Seeker muttered.
Fortunately for Sideswipe's anguish, Sunstreaker didn't shake his head, didn't make any acid remark… His facial features remained as cold as ice as he continued talking, as if Thundercracker hadn't spoke at all.
"A word that you must have heard very often, a word that you ignored… How many of your victims pleaded with you for something that was their right anyway? How many of them begged you to let them live, whilst they dragged themselves in the dust just as you are doing right now. And you… you pit-fragged scum… you listened, but you didn't care… You delivered the kill shot anyway, destroying their lives and those of the ones that cared for them."
Sideswipe grasped his brother's shoulder and forced him to turn around. "Sunny, this is not the moment for this. We have to take Thundercracker back now. His energy levels are almost depleted, not to mention his frame is a collection of dents and one of his wings is dangling!"
Sunstreaker didn't react. His optics were fixated on the fallen Seeker, as if looking to see through his defeated façade.
"Okay! If you don't want to help me, I'll do it myself!" Sideswipe spat, all patience lost.
"Don't blow a fuse, 'Sides, I'll help you," Sunstreaker said before staring at Thundercracker again. "But you still owe me that word, Decepticon."
The door of the Ark's Repair Bay opened to reveal a very unusual shadow.
Sunstreaker, with a jetpack still attached to his back, challenged the semi darkness, kicking away a table of medical tools that was in his way and roughly depositing his unwanted charge on the closest repair berth.
Thundercracker's processor activated with the hit. But his vocalizer onlined first, emitting a growl of pain as his damaged wing was received by the hard surface beneath.
"Ah, you were alive after all?" Sunstreaker said, shooting the Decepticon a disdainful glance. "You offlined right after 'Sides and I picked you up. I had hoped you'd deactivate during the journey back. Bad luck."
Small sparks jumped from Thundercracker's shattered optic as he tried to adjust his optical sensors to the partial darkness of the lonely Repair Bay.
"W… where…." he muttered, only to be silenced by the dazzling light that suddenly illuminated the place.
"Where are we, you ask? In the Pit, where did you think?" Sunstreaker replied, visibly ill-humored.
With notorious pain, Thundercracker raised his head and looked at his improvised saviour. "Did you…?"
"Save your aft? Yeah, unfortunately. But blame Sideswipe for that. He went to look for Ratchet in the Dinobots' lair or wherever he is to patch you up – again."
Thundercracker was about to say something, but a sudden short circuit in his half-severed wing made him cringe. He tried to control it, but suddenly his whole body started to shake.
"Oh great, now what? Are you going to die on me now, Decepticreep? Couldn't you choose another less compromising moment?" Sunstreaker spat, starting to rummage through Ratchet's equipment. "Frag! Where are those slaggin' pain killers?"
Circuits continued burning as Thundercracker made his best effort to stop exposing his weakness so much, but more than a shattered frame, a half mutilated wing was too much to bear for any Seeker, especially when said Seeker's will had received such a devastating blow as the loss of his one and only friend.
He was surprised when a figure towered him, immediately followed by a cooling and relaxing sensation.
"There," Sunstreaker said, emptying the contents of a thin metallic tube into Thundercracker's fuel line and tossing it aside after. "That should calm you down. Now stop playing the martyr, would you?"
The burned circuits in Thundercracker's wing started to stabilize, every spasm less painful than the previous one. The tranquilizers acted in silence, numbing his physical suffering but certainly not his anguish.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked after some of the heaviest astro seconds that had ever pended between two Cybertronians.
Sunstreaker grimaced with disdain. "Because that's what Optimus would've done… I guess… although I normally don't care a lot about what he says… Slag, why in the inferno am I telling these things to you?"
It was curious how such a cold look like the one in Sunstreaker's optics lacked so much of aggression. Even somebody less perceptive than Thundercracker would have noticed.
"I may have done it," Thundercracker said after another heavy silence.
Sunstreaker frowned. "What?"
"Killed your brother."
The Autobot's face didn't change, at least not to the common eye. If there was a storm happening inside of him, he was dissimulating it very well.
"I have always believed so," he finally said.
Thundercracker's only functional optic dimmed. "I remember the attack on that medical facility in Iacon… Everything was so chaotic. I… I killed many that day."
"Why are you telling me this? Are you gloating about your feats or are you just displaying a bizarre version of an apology?"
"I don't know," Thundercracker honestly replied.
"I don't care what you say, nothing can change what happened. No matter if you pulled the trigger or not, to me you are my brother's killer, just as your trinemates are."
Another defeat. Thundercracker had spoken without thinking, a very uncommon practice for someone that was used to silencing his opinions. And he didn't know why he had done it. Gratitude was an absence in that moment, but perhaps his honour was finding other ways to show itself, even if they were proving to be useless.
The tranquilizer in his fuel line started to drag him into oblivion, but right after his primary systems began to shut down, the sound of Sunstreaker's voice returned him to full consciousness.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"What…?"
"That slaughtering in the medical facility… Did you enjoy it?"
"I was following orders… It was my first mission as a Decepticon soldier. Like the others, all I cared about was impressing Megatron. At that moment… it was very important for me."
"That's not what I asked you, Thundercracker! Did you enjoy it or not?"
Thundercracker raised himself off the table, managing to support his weight on his elbows. That was a question he wasn't going to answer lying on a berth.
"I wanted to enjoy it… I tried to enjoy it. But I couldn't. And it got worse later. Every time it happened I tried to become numb, and every time I failed."
Silence that was almost tangible fell on the Repair Bay again. Sunstreaker turned around, perhaps too overwhelmed by that dense, cold air that enveloped everything; or perhaps afraid of himself, of what he could do to an enemy he had always hated.
"The truth is that you don't have an excuse, Thundercracker. Your remorse proves nothing. You killed fellow Cybertronians in the name of a tyrannical and empty cause, and you remained silent while you turned murdering into a habit… The thoughts of a mech don't define him, but his actions. And yours only prove how much of a vile coward you are."
Thundercracker said nothing. He had repeated those same words to himself so many times, but Sunstreaker was right. Condemning his past actions was meaningless if he hadn't done anything to stop them, and he had to admit he had had many opportunities to do so, to take a brave step forward and break the vicious circle.
"Maybe now you'll understand," the voice of Sunstreaker reached Thundercracker's audios again as the tranquilizers finally took over his systems and started to shut them down into stasis mode. "Now that you have lost a brother too."
Yes, Thundercracker realized as he fell into oblivion, that was exactly what he had lost.
Softness had always been a stranger.
He had paid for it, in the shape of the arms of strangers, femmes that sold pleasure but not affection.
He had had it, in the hands of his creator, the only ones able to combine roughness and tenderness with the unique logic that only a family bond could create.
And then, it had been gone, for too many millenia to remember it.
But there it was again, in the middle of nowhere, in the place without limits in which he was nothing but a tiny particle in the universe of oblivion.
His optics returned to online status – yes, once again he had two optics – slowly allowing the blurry shadows around him to take shape. There was the ceiling, orange colored, warm and friendly. Thundercracker suddenly realized that, at some point, he had got used to that colour. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
And there was something else… a hand, gentle and paternal, travelling over one of his arms. His view was momentary obstructed by a blurry white shape as the hand reached his face and softly began to rub it with a wash cloth. Stains of his own vital fluid continued to moisten the textile.
Unfortunately, the facial features of his saviour didn't match the delicacy of his touch. Thundercracker could have sworn he saw real preoccupation in Ratchet's countenance before the medic's features returned to their usual ill-humored status.
"Oh, so you're online again. About time! You have already wasted too much energy from my life supporter," Ratchet grumped as he retired the wash cloth.
"Give him a break, Ratchet. He suffered very severe damage," Wheeljack said, approaching from the other side of the repair berth. "How are you feeling, Thundercracker?"
Thundercracker made an effort to get up, but the still active effect of the tranquilizers kept him attached to the repair berth.
"Does… like slag… mean anything to you?" he mumbled.
"It will mean your immediate future if you keep trying to move," Ratchet said, frowning. "We didn't spend an entire cycle working on your frame for you to mess it up in a blink of an optic. No, wait, you're an expert on the matter. How long did it take you to destroy the work of art I had created for you before? Two breems? I swear I had never imagined you were such a frequent visitor of the Emergency Room. Are you a masochist or something?"
Wheeljack couldn't help but laugh. "You're watching too much human television, old friend. Can we return now to our business and leave the bickering for later? Thank you very much. Now, Thundercracker, we installed a new optic for you…"
"Yeah, red as you Decepticreeps like it."
"Ratchet, please… Okay, as I was saying, we installed a new optic for you but I don't know if your systems have finished adapting it yet. Follow the read beam – no pun intended – and try not to miss it."
Wheeljack generated a thin red light and passed it from one extreme of the wall to the other. Despite his numbness, Thundercracker could follow it without any problem.
"Mmmph, not bad," Ratchet said, providing his version of approval. "One thing less to worry about, how exciting… Let's continue, then. Your knee suffered severe damage – again – but I think we got it covered. Wheeljack and I have some doubts about your wing, though."
Wheeljack nodded. "We repaired it – and I have to admit we did an excellent job – but to be honest we aren't sure about its functionality."
"That was until we realized the damn thing had started to regenerate by itself. Has it always been this way?"
Thundercracker stared at Ratchet with very unfriendly optics. "Do you say that because I wasn't created as a Seeker?"
"Oh, please spare me another display of your inferiority complexes, Decepticon. I'm just informing you that we were seriously thinking about replacing your whole wing, but it seems that it won't be necessary. Of course, you still have to test it in the air to be sure, but I dare to say you were lucky this time and you'll be able to keep your wing even though your friends sliced it like a piece of cheese."
Thundercracker frowned. "Like a piece of what?"
Ratchet rolled his optics. "You don't know what cheese is? By the Primary Program, but just how long have you been on this planet? Only two terrestrial years? That's why you Decepticon slaggers fail all the time. You don't even know the worlds you pretend to conquer, morons."
Ratchet dedicated the Seeker a last grimace before turning around and heading toward a cabinet full of medical tools.
"Am I imagining things or is he moodier than he usually is, if such thing is possible?" Thundercracker asked.
Wheeljack's head-fins illuminated as he chuckled. "Don't pay attention to him. He was deadly worried about you and that's his way of showing it."
"Yes, I think I'm beginning to understand his peculiar ways of… worrying."
"Well, can you blame him? The truth is that we all were very concerned about you. There's almost a dozen Autobots and three humans outside this room waiting for news about you."
"Why would they care?"
Wheeljack shook his head slightly. "You still haven't learned anything, have you Thundercracker?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not the mech to tell you that. There are things you have to discover by yourself… Now shut down for a while. You still need to rest for at least one entire cycle before you even try to walk again."
Thundercracker did what Wheeljack said, although he knew in advance that rest was something he wouldn't be able to do. He had a lot to think about, but it wouldn't be easy with so much anguish obstructing the way.
To be continued.
We are reaching the final chapters, guys. Keep those seatbelts on because more intense things are coming. Thanks a lot for your support and opinions, they always bright my day :o)
Thanks a lot to iratepirate for the beta reading and the inspiration.
