A bit of a shorter chapter, but I felt like ending it here. And Deacog, to answer your question about when Ironhide will get his memories back, we're not there yet but hopefully this chapter will provide a bit of insight as to why.
Purest of the Hearts, thank you for your recent reviews :D It's good to see a new face, and I love knowing what stands out to you.
Happy reading!
Ratchet woke up early in the morning—too early to check on Ironhide, as the mech certainly needed his rest, but late enough that the Autobot medic did not really see much point in trying to get back to recharge.
However, he also did not really feel like starting the orn yet. There was so very much to do, and he himself had just gotten back from a long and relatively tiring excursion. A few more joors of rest would not hurt anything...
Ratchet sighed, tossing in his berth. He finally settled on lying on his right side, although he found that it was not any more comfortable than the position he had been lying in before.
The medic also found himself wondering if Ironhide was restless too.
Ironhide seemed to have improved markedly in the short amount of time they were on the ship. If it had not been for that, Ratchet would have certainly kept him in the med bay overnight.
But no mechs recharged well in the med bay, and recharge was what would do Ironhide the most good right now. Making it easier for the mech's own systems to repair themselves was almost always better than what Ratchet could do.
Ironhide would need supportive care during the orn of course, especially if the veteran warrior could not keep any orally-ingested energon down. Ratchet had put an antiemetic as well as a painkiller in the energon he had given Ironhide on the ship to hopefully keep the mech from purging his tanks again, although it may not be something that Ratchet could completely stop. It was a vicious cycle—the mech's systems were too stressed to process the fuel efficiently, hence any energon in his tanks became an irritant that would be expelled, yet a major cause of that stress was the lack of fuel.
Or at least, Ratchet hoped that that was all it was. Of course it could also be an early sign that the mech was indeed carrying, but it seemed too early for that.
Unless Ratchet had been off in his calculation...
But no, that did not make sense. The first decaorn was highly predictable, and the only other outward sign that Ratchet would expect to see before then was...
An aversion to being in close physical contact with another, as Ratchet's medical textbook from so many decavorns ago had worded it. That sign typically began on the third or fourth orn and would go away by the tenth, when the newly-created spark was not so fragile.
Ratchet started a little at that thought, suddenly realizing that Ironhide's shying away from him may not have just been due to the mech's injuries.
He needed to do another exam, to get a better estimate of exactly when this had happened.
Had his field equipment been miscalibrated?
Primus, Ratchet was still finding it all so hard to believe. Out of all the things that could have happened, Ironhide was carrying.
And whose sparkling was it? Would they suspect that Ironhide was carrying?
Ratchet had even gone through every file the Autobots had on Ironhide and all the individuals he was known to associate with, looking for any hint as to whether or not the weapons specialist had been involved with someone and who that someone might have been, but he found nothing conclusive. Nor had Ironhide ever mentioned anyone.
Of course, even if the weapons specialist had had prior relations with another Decepticon, that did not mean that this had not been a one-time occurrence.
But still, that did not answer the question of how this had happened. A mech could interface, yes, but the protocols necessary to actually conceive were slow to come online and they would not successfully do so unless the mech was in the presence another individual, one with whom he felt a strong connection to, for at least some amount of time.
Only then would interfacing actually result in the creation of a spark. One that had traits of both parents.
The latter thought scared Ratchet a little bit. While a heat cycle could only be initiated by a suitable partner, anyone whom the receptive individual then interfaced with could sire the sparkling.
The medic put a hand over his face. Why was he even putting so much thought into this? And at this time of the orn?
He should be at least trying to recharge. Not pondering things that most mechs would consider 'TMI' or borderline inappropriate at best.
Ratchet pushed himself up with a groan, swinging his legs over the edge of the berth and running a hand over his tired face. Primus, he felt like he had only recharged for two joors.
And maybe he had. After all, all he could remember of last night were restless feelings and obscure thoughts that did not make sense and dreams that he could not remember.
It was not like the medic to recharge so poorly. It must have been because he was so preoccupied with Ironhide.
Ratchet's thoughts were drawn again to his medical textbook, and the chapter that he thought would be the last one he would ever need. He reached over and pulled open his desk drawer, not even sure what it was he wanted to read. Maybe he just needed to do something.
However, it seemed that his thoughts still could not escape Ironhide—the memory core that the weapons speclaist had given him was sitting on top of his textbook. Ratchet had forgotten that he had put it there, to keep it safe.
The medic picked up the small device, holding it in his hand. It felt cold and lifeless now, in stark contrast to how warm it had been when Ironhide had first given it to him. Of course that was just because it had recently been used then, but it seemed an unintentional reminder that Ironhide had been without something that was so important to him for quite a while now.
Silently, Ratchet wondered if he was doing the right thing by withholding it.
Did he really think that this Ironhide would have such a hard time trusting him? Should he at least tell him that he had it?
And why did he not tell Optimus? Maybe he was afraid that the Prime's uncanny ability to make connections between things would cause him to conclude...
To conclude what? There was nothing... Ratchet had merely in the right place at the right time to be of some use to Ironhide. Decepticons always did what was in their own best interest.
But Ratchet somehow could not believe that that was true. Yes, the memory core was of no benefit to Ratchet at all, but had Ironhide's decision to give it to him been a sign of trust rather than an act of desperation?
The medic wondered how much was on the core, and how much was not on it. What exactly 'everything' was when it came to the weapons specialist's memories. How much had he seen, and what had he felt?
Idly, Ratchet plugged the memory core into a data port on his wrist to see what kind of encryption the Decepticons were using. Of course he had no intention of trying to hack it, he could not do that in good conscience, but he was curious to see what little bit of information he could glean from it.
However, the results that soon popped up on his HUD were not at all what the Autobot field medic had been expecting.
Encryption level: none.
What? That had to be wrong... No mech would leave something that personal completely unprotected. Gaining access to all of Ironhide's thoughts, feelings, and experiences as of the time Ratchet last saw him before Kaon would literally be as easy as plugging the memory core into a datapad.
Had the veteran warrior been too rushed or too tired to encrypt it, thinking that Ratchet would not check anyway? Or...
Was it possible that Ironhide had left it unencrypted on purpose? Was it some kind of unspoken request, saying that he wanted Ratchet to access it?
Ratchet glanced briefly at his desk, where his datapad lied innocuously on the smooth surface.
Should he...?
The medic was torn now. The ethical part of his processor was telling him that it was wrong, that he had no right to think that he knew Ironhide so well and that the mech would certainly not want an invasion of privacy on that level, but the emotional part was telling him that he needed to know more about Ironhide, to understand him, and that it was not really wrong because he would not judge anything he saw and because Ironhide must have known that leaving it insecure could mean that someone may access it. And, maybe to a certain extent, Ratchet wanted to feel trusted enough to believe that someone had wanted to share something so personal with him.
Maybe there was something Ironhide wanted to him to know, but that he had not found it in himself to say.
Ratchet picked up his datapad, the smooth screen glinting in the pale light from the window, his thumb resting on the power button. All he had to do was switch it on and connect to Ironhide's memory core...
But Ratchet could not bring himself to do it. He hastily set the datapad down, and put the memory core back in his desk drawer.
Was he afraid of what he would find? Or what he would not find?
Maybe it was both.