Chapter 52: Chapter 52 Understanding the past pt. 1


Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Yes, Silverblade tried to join the Autobots and got rejected by Prime Mechner, instead joining the Decepticons. Plot twists coming even better than that. Not easily guessable either. *laughs and rubs hands together* Another reason you keep reading right? Onward to choosing wrong and someone else saving you at the time.

WL Rule #3 While NEST and the Autobots are part of our lives, do not let it become your only life. Marriage and children with a separate home are possible, even in this war. Hard to do but worth every effort.

177. Do not become the focus of the human need to obtain spiritual or mental enrichment. We are ancient and more knowledgeable but not the answer they need to solve their own problems. Refer them to medical staff, chaplains or fellow NEST team members.

The recruits watched officers Epps and Jorgensen moving their fists into familiar shapes before Epps groaned. He would lead them through the target range while Jorgensen kept the scores from behind the baffle.

"Isn't rock, paper, and scissors kind of childish to decide command structure?" The dark-haired recruit asked, shouldering his energon net holo look alike.

"It's rock, scissors and sabot rounds around here. And no, not when we are commanding new recruits." Epps answered, grabbing extra holo energy clips for his pistol.

"What about the Autobots? Gears, energon and transforms?" A recruit in the back wisecracked.

"They do not have our command structure hang-ups. Each has distinctive ranks and titles and the few similar, like the twins have their own ways." Jorgensen explained, her voice easily carrying.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker use guidelines like Sideswipe is deadlier and Sunstreaker prefers not scratching his paint or they are in the brig and unavailable. The minor twins fight it out, usually a larger mech slamming them together and both going on the same mission," Epps continued, visually checking the recruits gear and weaponry. His exactness to detail made him a good second and a better safety checker. Any recruit getting hurt was through their own fault and he would be the first to rescue them.

"No real jockeying for positions or titles? There can only be one right?" The dark-haired man questioned again as if not believing. Ironhide tapped his foot, shaking the floor, causing everyone to snap to attention and realize he, Ratchet and Major Lennox had been listening and watching silently from the side.

"Understand, almost 95% of their population is gone!" Will pointed up at them. "They have fought back plate to back plate for thousands of years against an enemy that wiped out entire generations of their kind. They fight when they must, not want to. Prime has the final and only say should a real problem occur."

"And keeping Prime out of problems is the problem," Ironhide reminded. "Trouble draws to him like a sharkticon at feeding time."

"Why not enough of you tackle and tie him up somewhere? "The blonde hair tech specialist asked. "How hard could that be?"

Both bots burst out laughing. Ironhide leaned in close, his lip plates twitching. "We tried that once. Did it occur to you there is a reason why my arm cannons are distinctly different?"

"Figured it was type of energy charge they fire?" he answered, cringing from the massive scarred face over him.

"Not exactly," Ratchet smirked. "Prime forcefully removed the cannon the moment he freed himself and did welding rearrangements before returning it back." He pointed over at Ironhide as the black warrior mech shuddered in memory. "As a weapon it was unusable, and we had to reconfigure Ironhide's power coupling system when he came back online."

"What did he do with the cannon?" Will asked, glancing up at Ironhide.

"You don't want to know other than Chromia persuaded the Prime to let me remove it and repair Ironhide for her sake," Ratchet answered.

"The original weapons designer had passed to the Matrix and we copied the power system best we could but lacked metals for the outer rings. The unhooking broke several. That is why they are different." Ironhide concluded, his tone firm. "The details do not matter."

::It was an original idea switching your parts like that:: Ratchet

::Shut it medic:: Ironhide barked.

::Prime did apologize. He understood our trying to protect him and he did have a planetwide mess to deal with after. And willingly destroyed all his recorded evidence:: Ratchet

:: True. Wait a frag. You said his recorded, what about yours? Ratchet? Answer me:: Ironhide growled. The medic kept his optics to the side then abruptly transformed, racing away. An astro second later, a black GMC top kick closed on its bumper. "I'll switch your parts!" He yelled.

WL Rule #4 Don't bug the Transformers with stupid, silly human size ideas. One of them #% off is not worth satisfying a question of curiosity. Their weapons are bigger, their reach longer and you cannot run faster than a targeting lock.

178. Do not underestimate the human imagination. It can create beauty beyond description or perversion beyond despair. In that, they think like both Autobots and Decepticons. It is our duty to keep them focused on our way of existence while remembering they are free to believe what they want.

In the Autobot private quarters, three mechs and one human approached the first room. "We have nothing to hide," Optimus stated, opening the door by passing his metal hand over the entry plate. The computer recognized him as Prime and released the lock.

Mr. Franks, the government assigned safety inspector, continued typing his notes. "I will be the judge of that. I have traveled to nearly every major military base on the planet, seen it all. That's why I was sent here. Most qualified," he said.

"We seek peace and a place to rest only," Optimus added. His optics noted the man's facial expression of neutrality slip before stiffening back. The human glanced in but did not enter.

An Autobot high recharge berth, wall cabinet and storage locker sat within. The green and black camouflage indicated Hound's personal taste. A single datapad on the desk randomly flipped through pictures of earth, oceans to forests to country meadows.

"Camo coloring is last year and who chooses your paints? Picasso?" he commented, typing more notes.

The next two rooms were inspected quietly, glanced at but not entered. Ratchet and Ironhide moved ahead, opening the doors one by one. Optimus noted the increase in the human's system as the man's thoughts took a different path.

"Mikaela is designated as family, is she not? Her quarters are in the human area though not a soldier or ambassador," the inspector asked, half-glancing through the open doorway before typing notes on his laptop.

"Affirmative. She is family via Bumblebee, and under our full protection," Ironhide added further up in the hallway, his tone rumbling. The human had irritated him the first moment he had arrived. Prowl and he shared the job of ensuring on base security and the idea of a human needing to inspect anything of theirs for safety issues was a waste of time.

"Oh, the bot partnered with a woman?" He looked surprised. "Mikaela is half-Cybertron and part human then. Bet that was a romance for the stars. Medic have any trouble delivering or are his skills the reason she exists?" He stopped, holding his laptop.

"It's not possible no matter how many of you humans ask about it!" Ratchet snapped, his yellow green form leaning into the hallway. "Our technology is not for mixing sparks and flesh like tinker toys. Life has value. Your race and our race are worlds apart even with my skills. Battle repairs are my concern, not Frankenstein reproductive science."

He stomped back into the nearest recharge room muttering, "That fool is badly misinformed," angrily kicking two Autobot size soccer balls in Skids room. One ball bounced over the giant screen TV, gaming system and leaning DVD pile while the other slid into a pile of discarded spare transform armor. His alien hearing discerned the hallway conversation too clearly.

"Mikaela was adopted into our family and is full human, as it should be," Optimus regal baritone stated.

The man nodded before continuing, "Noted. The boy, Sam Wigglewit."

"Witwicky!" Three mech voices corrected in unison.

"Ahh, medical records on him do not exist after high school and you certainly keep him close. Played with dangerous alien technology from what I read. Capable of changes at the molecular level. Is the boy now a robot underneath?" he asked.

::This fool is irritating. Shall I terminate?:: Ironhide

::Yes yes yes!:: Ratchet

::We do not harm humans. Even idiot ones. They usually offline themselves and save us the effort:: Optimus sent. ::Continue to check the rooms ahead, making sure they are clear of potential hazards::

Both mechs obeyed, disappearing through different gigantic doors. Optimus faced the human, keeping a neutral expression and body stance. "I owe Sam my spark twice over. He is human and hunted by our Decepticon foes. They would take great pleasure to torture and kill him should they have the chance. We have no desire for your race other than friendship and protecting your world from our war."

Mr. Franks shook his head side to side. "Galloway warned me you were stick in the mud types at lunch last week. All formal and dodge questions on your intentions. Not even curious about interspecies relationships? Asking for a friend," He elbowed the side of Optimus foot plate, wincing as his arm tingled from impacting the unmovable metal armor.

"Tell your friend's vivid imagination we have no curiosity in interspecies relationships," Optimus countered, moving away, his ire triggering his battle systems into a standby mode.

::Perverted imagination you mean. Is everything sexual with this species?:: Ironhide grumbled.

::I am curious. Leave him in my med bay and I will….:: Ratchet transformed his left arm into a medical blade saw.

::One human is not indicative of the species. He is friends with Galloway. Evidence enough:: Optimus reminded then noticed the man focusing on him.

"Hmm, how about you? Bet being Prime has its Prime rewards?" the human snickered, missing the way the red and blue mech in front of him stiffened, rifle sub spacing onto his back silently.

"Prime means caring for all under my command equally. Mech or femme or human," he corrected, leaning down close to intimidate him. "To what do you refer?"

"Keep femmes close too? For protection? I got it. But seriously, hot leader and all those ladies? Pink motorcycle seems tame but the blue one I hear is a real charger? Hehe."

::My Chromia? That fleshling is mine!:: Ironhide roared, spinning his cannons and releasing the first safety locks. Ratchet lurched forward across the narrow space, pinning the raised arm down and using his equal weight to slam the warrior mech into the open room. Their impact against the far wall triggered the door locks. Thuds and scuffle sounds echoed through the wall as they wrestled.

The man snickered, misreading Optimus expression of concern. "Sounds like a couple to me. Let us give them their privacy. I can conclude the tour later," he swaggered back towards the door. Optimus reached for the human before calming as his memory supplied a more appropriate answer.

::Sideswipe, Sunstreaker are your haunted house holograms ready for testing?:: Optimus

::You said to shelf the program. Too terrifying for humans with all the Decepticons and devastated earth scenarios:: Sunstreaker

::Reconsidered the work you both put into it. Mr. Franks here needs to see everything. Escort him around base and let him test the program, if he chooses. It must be voluntary and warn him they are only holograms:: Optimus

::Not to sound disrespectful, but is that really you Prime? Where did you first meet me?:: Sideswipe

::Prowl's office on Cybertron. He was telling me why the two of you were being transferred onto his team directly from the gladiator pit:: Optimus answered. ::Your left optic was golden from a partial repair and you were missing two of your right-hand pieces from the last fight::

::Yes sir! Holographic tester accepted. We will dutifully record all responses as well as his informed consent to test:: Sideswipe gleefully answered.

At the main door, Mr. Franks talked to one of the mechs. Optimus watched Hound transform into his military jeep alt mode and offer the human a ride back to the hangar. "You two can come out now. He's gone." Silence met his statement. Sensors scanned through the wall and detected two prone forms on the floor, both in temporary stasis lock. Energy signatures identified what had happened. "Ratchet tranked him and Ironhide used his thermal stunner before succumbing. I knew there would be orns like this but Primus, do they have to keep repeating? Aren't twenty-eight idiot humans in five years enough? How many more can come through here for me to deal with? My mechs are enough. Add femmes, Sam and Mikaela, my evil brother and I should be the one tranked."

Story Arc – "Finding who you are" (part two)

Silverblade waited for the Autobot Prime to denounce her, calling for his mechs and chains or to blast her directly. 'I locked my systems down before arriving,' she processed despairingly then glanced over the legendary leader and knew. 'Even fully armed and ready sneaking up on him in recharge, he would take me offline.'

Optimus focused on her two prominently engraved Autobot symbols before quirking the edge of his mouth plate. "You've sworn the Autobot oath and wear that commitment openly. Do you consider yourself an Autobot?"

"Yes," her soft vocal tone carried her regret and fear clearly. He resisted the urge to wrap a comforting arm around her, knowing it would terrify Silverblade the more.

"As Prime, I honor that oath. You are not the first to renounce their ways and I hope not the last. As Optimus," he put silver metal armored fingers gently under her chin, lifting her face towards his. "I honor the memory of the femme who raised me. Do not tell the others of your past. They would not understand."

"I know. I listened to Cliffjumper and his hatred of possible Decepticon spies. Your Ironhide terrifies me more," she admitted.

Optimus chuckled, moving back. "He terrifies every bot except our medic Ratchet. And he has requested I relay the order for you to be in his med bay tomorrow morning."

"Med-bay? Why?" Her vocal tone broke on the last word. His optics softened as she nearly crumpled under his gaze.

"The addition and removal of weapons by the Decepticons left unmanaged servo damage and programming. Your team lacked a medic but saw open combat. That is why you are careful in battle. Not risking injury least your secrets be exposed," he stated calmly.

"When, what and how do you know?" she sputtered, forgetting her fear.

He chuckled, "It's my job to know as the humans say." He straightened to full height, pulling his arms back and arching his spine slightly, knowing the effect it had on smaller mechs and femmes. He took two long strides before looking over his shoulder, "Be at peace little one, the stars shine long for us." Chuckling as her jaw gears dropped at the traditional clan leave taking. He chuckled more, having remembered his parental femme telling him that many times. 'As big as I was armored or aged, she still told me that.'

The next morning, Silverblade faced the med bay doors, tired and restless. Recharge had been hard to trigger, her processors replaying the conversation with the Prime and his unexpected reaction to her past. The doors slid open and she froze.

"The room is empty, and no bot is scheduled until this evening. Your repairs will take time but not that long. Unless you plan on staying in the hallway," Ratchet's vocals drifted out to her. He was leaning on the farthest berth, arms folded and not a medical tool or device in sight. "Choose any berth and relax. I'm a medic and you need physical repairs. What bothers you the most?"

She stepped forward slowly, heading for the side berth while contemplating his question. "I had system adjustments installed not suitable for my spark or frame then removed then added again. I've compensated but the routines require continual adjustments. Several tactical adjustors were damaged and never replaced. I rarely need a medic's care. I do my own repairs." She laid out, barely trembling as he approached. He pointed at her arm, waiting until she released the armor up. The parts inside were slanted opposite the metal and a tangled mess.

Ratchet frowned, drawing his optics together. "Fraggers put you in stasis lock, opened your plates then added weapons and uploaded patches but no safeties. Changed optics scanners to targeting systems then spot welded, closed the plates and left. Never leaving instructions or any guidance other than stay hidden and be ready." Her wide optics and silent nod was confirmation.

"Early in the war they did that. Where was the purple symbol hidden, left shoulder?" He guessed, repairing shoddy connections.

"Right shoulder on a spring plate. It faced inward until needed." One hand tapped the solid metal and engraved Autobot symbol in its place.

"Early in the war neutrals were given that choice." Ratchet grunted. His fingers transformed into multi prong tools, moving and separating delicate wiring. "Then the battles spread out past Trypticon. You were lucky. Later when the Decepticons began running out of chassis to grab, err volunteers or voluntolds they created the process to strip a mech down to the cores, removing personality and intelligence. The process was forbidden from the start and the shell was hard to control. The transmutation virus was used after that enabling better warriors but still destructive to the victims."

"I know. Starscream was proud of his additions to it," she vented softly.

"Starscream? The second in line snapping at Megatron's heels sneaky coward seeker?" Ratchet focused on her readings, discerning the truth in her physical responses. "How?" His eye plates arched high.

Her memory processors replayed the scene from thousands of years before. Her communications console on the main moon base, her co-workers discussing the newest Decepticon mech.

"That Nightmark is arrogant," Darkstrength grunted, her optics intent on time displays. "Tried impressing me with his size like I was empty tanked." Small but strong, she challenged even the elite guard who dared tread on her flight pattern schedule. Rumors had her pegged as third generation from Primus himself though she vehemently denied being that aged. The moon base was her home as systems slowed but her processors could outdo any bot there. She continued her rant, "Made it sound like he had a high position, was practically winning the conflict by his cunning technology. Wanted a neutral femme like me to join his path. I process what he wanted. Not interested."

Silverblade laughed at the same time as her friend Lightwind. "That good huh?"

Darkstrength rolled her golden optics. "Only braggart worse is Thundercracker. All seekers fly high but that's to keep their ego's from dragging on the surface below." Her console pinged, announcing another shuttle arriving. "Late as always and seekers onboard. Be back in a few breems if those slag heads have their orders inline," she griped before heading for the lift, flipping her blue colored goggles down.

"You know the best way to handle Nightmark?" Lightwind asked. Her white coloring was unusual as was her superior size. More than once Silverblade had wondered why she had not enlisted and chose instead moon base repairs. The small spaces required often conflicted with her solid size. Not that mechs complained. She chose who she wanted when she wanted, keeping none of them.

"With a ten parsec shock bar?" Silverblade teased. The view of Cybertron spread out before her. Rolling her optics up, only the stars filled her vision. Straight out and shuttles flying on and off the ports created comet like flares, their fuel radiating colors in the thin atmosphere. Leaning closer to the super thick clear bonding, Cybertron below sparkled with all its power and lights. The first time seeing that view and she knew the little room was worth every breem spent there.

"Besides that," Lightwind laughed, rotating her upper chassis to face her. "Resist him. Don't let him trip your processors. He is all verbal bragging and no interfacing."

"Lightwind!" She gasped. "You are…."

"Your guardian and friend. You need to get planet side more. World full of mechs and you hide up here with us ancient femmes." Her console pinged nine times sharply. "Link up relay is offline. Reset is two floors up, hold the deck until I return," she waved cheerfully before taking the lift. Silverblade linked all the screens together, watching the efficient base AI system run what she couldn't. The lift dinged, heavy treads echoing behind her.

"Is this main control? I have important business for Lord Megatron," A mech's vocal tone smugly interrupted her work. She turned slowly, guessing it had to be the infamous Nightmark.

A large silver seeker with an impressive wing span posed himself in her optic range. The smugness to his lip plates clashed with the red flicker of his optics. He radiated power, yet his tone reminded her of a youngling begging for more energon treats based on deserving it without having earned it. Raising an eye ridge, she deliberately rotated her Decepticon symbol forward. His optics narrowed as he noticed it.

"I am Silverblade and this is my control center. I serve Megatron but who are you to have his important business?" She challenged arrogantly, systems fluttering with delight. This smug mech was going to tangle verbal swords with her and be taken down a level or two for it.

"His second in command. Lord Megatron orders half the relays be released to his communications officer Soundwave two shifts from now to coordinate a technological program. Our exalted Leader will not take delays. " He stated as if she should have known and been grateful to help.

"Hmm," she pretended to consider the request. "Half the relays only? What a request. And all our programs are technological on this moon base seeker. How do I know you are thus tasked and not an Autobot spy asking for what is not yours?" her shoulder cannon appeared out of subspace as did her wrist blasters, all aiming at him.

To be continued..

Updated and revised 01.07.2019