First Aid hurried to finish as many repairs as possible to the Autobot Second in Command before they had to resume traveling. Where normally he would have attempted to engage his patient in conversation to take their processor off of what he was doing to their frame, one look at Ultra Magnus' faceplate dissuaded the young medic from that idea. Ultra Magnus stared, unseeing, at some point beyond First Aid. A surreptitious glance that direction showed that nothing particularly interesting lay that way.
Silently, First Aid focused on rewiring the motor control for Ultra Magnus' left arm, sparing the occasional millisecond to observe his patient's face in an effort to better determine his psychological state. But whatever deep thoughts occupied the Commander's processor seemed to make him oblivious to the world around him.
In fact, the large, light blue and silver mech hardly seemed aware that First Aid was working on him at all. Rather, the Commander was just passively letting him do whatever he felt necessary to his frame with not so much as a twitch.
In a way, that worried First Aid. Ultra Magnus had never been one to trust him so completely.
Then the larger mech moved. But it was merely to lift his free hand to brush his palm over his faceplate.
"I need to do some work on your chassis, sir," First Aid murmured softly. "It would be easier if you were at my level."
Without otherwise acknowledging the oblique request – something else that was odd for the Commander – Ultra Magnus merely lowered himself back to the ground. First Aid knelt next to him and prepared to remove a badly dented armor piece so that he could reconnect some of the wires and lines beneath it that had been severed.
No sooner had Ultra Magnus eased back onto the ground than the medic felt the ground tremble as the Prime stepped closer. Both medic and the Second in Command looked up in unison.
When Optimus said nothing, his expression carefully impassive, First Aid cleared his vents. When the Prime's still fiercely burning optics focused on him, the young medic thought he might lose his grip on the tool he was using.
Seeing his clearly intimidated reaction, Optimus eased his hard stare and let the edge of his field soften fractionally. It was enough to let First Aid find his glossa. Sort of.
"Um… Should I…?" He flailed mentally, sensing the irritation in his leader and not wanting to trigger another… whatever had happened between the Prime and Prowl.
"Keep working, First Aid." The Prime's command was soft but absolute.
Ducking his helm a fraction, First Aid hurried to do so. A second later he became aware of a faint buzz in the air that indicated a silent comm. channel had been opened between the two larger mechs.
Doing his best to pretend not to notice the silent exchange, First Aid focused on his task of fixing the Commander. He was fairly confident he would actually be able to get Ultra Magnus into good enough condition he would not even need a stay in Iacon's med-bay. Even though he did his best to ignore what was passing between his Prime and the Second in Command, it was impossible to miss how, the longer the exchange continued, the tighter Ultra Magnus' armor clamped to his frame.
Then abruptly the Prime turned away. Ultra Magnus slumped then looked at First Aid for the first time since the medic had started working on him. He blinked, thenwith one hand he reached up to interpose the extremity between First Aid and the wires he was working with. "That is not necessary, First Aid. I…"
"I'm not done." First Aid brushed aside Ultra Magnus' hand and continued what he was doing before he realized what he had done.
Tensing, First Aid waited for the inevitable reprimand for addressing a senior officer with such brusqueness. Even so, he never slowed his work.
But the reprimand never came.
First Aid finally worked up the courage to glance at the Commander's faceplate again, he saw a hint of surprise and incredulity in the cerulean optics that were staring at him. Then a brief look of amusement flickered across Ultra Magnus' optics before the frame beneath his hands relaxed in acceptance.
"Very well." There was a brief pause. "Thank you…Medic."
The title, as much a term of respect as an acknowledgement of First Aid's right to the position, stunned First Aid. He blinked back up at the Commander. While Optimus had consented, from time to time, to let him do minor repairs, Ultra Magnus had never been among those mechs who would let anyone but Ratchet work on him outside of a dire emergency.
And for a brief moment, just as he had with Prowl not very long ago, First Aid felt the same crushing realization of just how much trust was being placed in him by his patient. This time, however, it was magnified by the simple fact it was the Prime's Second in Command.
Then, with a purely mental shake, First Aid focused back on the injury he was fixing.
… … …
Once Ultra Magnus was fit to travel, they silently moved into formation. Jazz quickly briefed the Commander on their strategic approach to getting around patrols and the seismic sensors. The saboteur delivered his briefing as they drove and, even though it was done on an open channel as much for Groove's benefit as Ultra Magnus', Prowl did not interject.
Nor did anyone else; it was as if everyone was deep in their own ponderings.
They drove in silence for nearly a joor, and Prowl used the time to further analyze and otherwise attempt to figure out just how so many Seekers had successfully gotten past his highly acute sensors. It was into that silence that Prowl received a remarkably tentative ping from Ultra Magnus.
Immediately and respectfully, Prowl accessed the signal, transmitting his polite acknowledgement.
When Ultra Magnus replied it was with uncharacteristic hesitance. /You volunteered to take my place./
Weaving an inch or two in his position in formation, Prowl tried to hide his sudden discomfort. /Sir./
/I… That is, I never expected such a thing. Not from you. That is, not for me… not after the way I have…/
Systems heating, Prowl dared to cut the commander off. /Please, sir. Do not make it into more than it was./
There was a moment of stillness before Ultra Magnus replied. /Then what was it?/
Prowl internalized a cringe, realizing he had been too sharp in his tone with the Commander. /It was the most logical thing to do. That is all./ His reply was calm, almost a hint apologetic. /But only if the Prime would have been able to negotiate for the rest of the team's safety; as I stated at the time./
/And if it had only been for my life?/ There was an uncertainty in the Commander's transmission that made Prowl uncomfortable.
Prowl did not answer for nearly a mile. /Please sir, do not ask me that question./
Ultra Magnus' engine revved. /You have asked me to trust you, Prowl./
Clearing his vents, Prowl dodged a pothole and tried to figure out the unspoken subtext of the Commander's cryptic statement. Would he loose Ultra Magnus' trust – what little there might be – if he did not answer the question? Or was the Commander asking for his trust in some way?
Another mile stretched beneath their tires before Prowl figured out a way to address the issue. He answered slowly, cautiously. /You ask me to answer a question for a situation that has not arisen. I cannot say with definite assurance what my reaction will be to a situation separate from any potential facts. And yet any assurance I may give you now will bind me if the situation should arise in the future, regardless of any extenuating circumstances./
This time it was Ultra Magnus' turn to let the silence stretch. /I admit, that was not exactly the answer I was hoping to hear./
Prowl did not answer, unsure what the best response would be. He was saved from having to do so when Ultra Magnus spoke again. /But I think it was an honest answer. And I think I would prefer you retain that honesty rather than just give me what you think I want to hear./
Had Prowl been in his base form, he would have had to struggle to keep his lower mandible from dropping open. By the time he regained his composure, however, Ultra Magnus had cut the connection.
Clearing his vents, Prowl tried to determine whether or not that conversation had ended well or if he had lost ground with the Commander. Similarly, he spared what processing power he could to consider what had happened between himself and the Prime, and what his probable fate would be once they reached Iacon. His intimate knowledge of Autobot protocols meant he was well aware of the punishment his actions – disobeying a direct order and insubordination – justified. Yet the Prime had not seemed inclined to impose any punishment.
Perhaps Optimus had just not made his decision yet. But no, he had no reason to think that the Prime was misleading him and he realized, with a pang of guilt, that it was unbecoming of him to process such thoughts without cause.
Even so, Prowl was not a mech to tolerate unknowns and he was working on a way to ask the Prime what his fate would be when First Aid pinged him.
/First Aid to Prowl…/
Secretly grateful for the distraction, regardless of how illogical it was to feel that way, Prowl replied immediately,/Prowl here. Is something wrong?/
There was an uncharacteristic hesitance. /No, no. Um, I… that, well… Thank you, Prowl./
Prowl's engine sputtered, the unsolicited gratitude startling him. /Excuse me?/
/Back there… Thank you for being willing to sacrifice your life for my sake./ First Aid's transmission was almost bashful.
Just managing not to swerve, Prowl felt his tanks clench uncomfortably. /First Aid…/
/Don't./ First Aid cut him off. /I know your programming well enough to know you were probably just doing the most logical thing for the sake of the greatest number of mechs. But…thank you anyway./
First Aid cut the connection before Prowl could even begin to think of an appropriate way to respond.
With a mental shake of his helm, Prowl tried not to spend too much energy attempting to figure out the young medic's reasoning. Instead he turned every ounce of processing power not devoted to constantly scanning their surroundings to work on figuring out how so many seekers had been able to ambush them so easily. That line of inquiry was not as uncomfortable as trying to anticipate any future punishment that might be dealt to him.
Unfortunately, no sooner had he fully turned his attention to his task than he received another ping on his internal communication system. This time from Jazz.
/Hey-a Prowler, I just wanted to say…/
Prowl groaned silently, cutting Jazz off. /Please stop, Jazz./
The brief transmission Prowl got from Jazz indicated his confusion at the tactician's curt interruption. /Stop?/
/I... I apologize./ Prowl forced himself to be polite. Jazz was still his superior officer even if their relationship was also that of friendship. /I should not have jumped to conclusions nor should I have been rude./
Jazz did not respond for a long moment. /Nah. You're a little jumpy. I understand; I get it. I just wanted ta say that… that I'm proud of ya./
Prowl felt a sudden stab of pain in his processor as that was the last thing he expected the saboteur to say. /Proud?/
/Yep./
A handful of questions sprang immediately to Prowl's processor but he got no opportunity to ask them as Jazz cut the connection with a glib burst of static.
Prowl delayed turning his attention to any of the pressing issues clamoring for it as he waited to see if his train of processing would be interrupted again. After several breems had passed without any other mech attempting to harass him with cryptic comments, Prowl released a vent of air and turned back to his work.
… … …
Though long and not nearly as a direct a line of travel as was possible, they managed to return to Iacon without further difficulty. Nor were they assailed by Decepticon patrols. In fact, the trip was so anti-climatic that Prowl had more than ample time to ponder all the various problems that were pestering him.
He had come up with several possibilities as to how the Decepticons had snuck up on them, only one of which was not truly disturbing. But at the moment he had no way to confirm any of them. He had also had enough time to come up with far too many possibilities for how he might be further disciplined for his gross insubordination toward the Prime… should his leader wish to make use of them. And the fact that the Prime had not spoken to him privately during the trip only fed his anxiety.
Thus, in the end, they returned home all too soon.
And as if intending to make Prowl's existence even more complicated, they were greeted just inside the gate by a welcoming party that included Ratchet, Smokescreen, Red Alert, Inferno, Chromia and Elita One.
Like the others, Prowl transformed to his base mode when the Prime did, and they closed the distance between the gate and those gathered to meet them.
"I see you have all returned, relatively unharmed." Ratchet glanced over their entire party, crossing his arms over his chassis as Chromia and Elita One moved toward their respective sparkmates. Ratchet looked pointedly at Groove. "With… why do you have a Temple Guardian with you?" The chartreuse medic's tone had gone from biting to honestly puzzled.
Looking away from Elita's optics, Optimus considered his CMO then nodded toward the young mech. "Groove sacrificed his position among the Guardians to perform his function as a Guardian."
Ratchet made a face. "That doesn't make sense."
Chromia chuckled at the medic's discomfiture and even Optimus allowed a tiny smile to tip his lip plates. "It is his story to share when – and if – he feels like it." Then he lifted his voice to ensure all of the greeting party heard his words. "Groove has petitioned to join the Autobots and I have accepted. He will begin competency training within the next few orns. But for now…"
Ratchet had looked away from the Prime, probably as he received a data dump from First Aid. He chose that moment to interrupt, his gaze darkening as he straightened, pointing imperiously back into the spark of the base. "For now, all six of you are going to the med-bay."
Elita One chuckled at the look on her sparkmate's faceplate and took one of the Prime's arms to start leading him that direction. "He's right, dearspark. When Ultra Magnus left so quickly to go help… well, we feared the worst."
Chromia also nodded, then she smiled, though it was more predatory than charming like the Femme Commander's, and took Ironhide's arm and followed.
As the blue femme walked past him, focused on her sparkmate, Prowl asked her, "If you are here, where is Bluestreak?"
"Waiting in med-bay," Chromia answered easily, taking Ironhide's wrist and pulling him after Elita One and Optimus. "Jolt is watching him."
"You sneaky femme," Ironhide rumbled at his sparkmate. "Ratchet put you two up to this didn't he? To make sure Optimus and I didn't argue."
Chromia chuckled, the sound deep and mischievous. "And Bluestreak for Prowl. It's working, isn't it?"
Ironhide huffed irritably but that did not stop him from reaching over with his free hand and tenderly rubbing his thumb over the hand Chromia was using to imprison his wrist.
Prowl fell into step at what seemed a natural place: behind the Prime, Ironhide, their femmes and Ultra Magnus. He was next to Jazz with the medics following them. Groove fell into step just behind Prowl as if he were still a bodyguard while the medics conferred with each other quietly. Red Alert and Inferno followed the medics while Smokescreen fell into step on the other side of Prowl.
"So… was the mission successful?" Smokescreen asked either Prowl or Jazz.
Jazz was the one who answered, grimacing, "Mostly. We had ta leave early for security reasons. But Prowler here is confident they can pull it off without us there ta supervise directly."
Smokescreen blinked, then smiled. "Prowl… You mean the Prime told you what the mission was actually about?"
Prowl shot his department leader a look. "The Prime merely took advantage of a useful resource."
Jazz and Smokescreen frowned; that statement implied that the Prime had merely bowed to necessity. Then Jazz's engine growled, causing both tacticians to look at him.
The saboteur's instant glare was easily felt, even through his visor. "If ya really think the Prime is acting just because ya are a 'useful resource' ya aren't as bright as I thought." With a huff, Jazz sped up, leaving them to join Ironhide and Chromia.
Smokescreen watched Jazz for an astrosecond then looked at Prowl, pinging his communications system. /What was that about?/
Prowl hesitated, releasing a vent. /I am not sure. Jazz has been uncharacteristically cryptic for the last few orns./
/Jazz is always cryptic,/ Smokescreen pointed out.
/Precisely./ They were almost to the med-bay, in fact, Optimus and Elita One had just disappeared through the door.
"Oh…"
Whatever else Smokescreen might have said was preempted by Ratchet's furious snarl. Both tacticians turned as the CMO's heavy footsteps gained on them in time for them to hear an equally furious growl, "He endured a spark scan without time to prepare?!"
Startled, Smokescreen blinked while Prowl stiffened. Ahead of them, Ironhide and Chromia froze, looking back as well. Ratchet, on the other hand, stormed forward to hook one hand on Prowl's chassis while running a preliminary scan over him.
The sudden and intense scan now bathing his frame made Prowl tense but the hand clamped on his chassis – and the medic's enraged expression – precluded any real protest.
With another growl of his engine Ratchet then pushed Prowl toward the med-bay, propelling him with enough force Prowl did not doubt that if he resisted he would be dragged there. The CMO seemed completely oblivious about the scene he was causing as he took Prowl to the nearest berth.
"Get on that berth." The order left no room for objection, nor did a final push that direction, so Prowl complied.
"I am fine, Medic," Prowl said firmly once Ratchet had released him, even if he stayed obediently on the berth.
Ratchet leaned forward, his faceplate only a foot or two from Prowl's. "You endured a spark scan with no preparation and then a viral attack from Soundwave." He tapped Prowl's interface port. "Open up."
Even if Ratchet couldn't care less about the group of mechs now gawking at them, Prowl did. His own engine revved. "First Aid has already…"
"That was two orns ago. Things change. And as talented as he is, First Aid is still a junior medic." Ratchet tapped the interface panel again.
Prowl stiffened. "I…"
"What's wrong?" Bluestreak chose that moment to ask, breaking away from Jolt and squeezing between Ratchet and his caretaker, looking over Prowl with anxious optics. "Did something happen? Are you hurt, Prowl?"
"That remains to be seen, Bluestreak." Ratchet answered for the Praxian, continuing to glare at his recalcitrant patient. "He had… something done to him on the mission that might have caused damage that is not readily apparent."
Bluestreak's optics grew wide and he clung even tighter to his guardian's knee plating. "Wh-what things?"
Prowl narrowed his optics at Ratchet, not appreciating being manipulated in such a manner, even as he answered Bluestreak calmly. "A viral attack and a spark scan."
Trembling faintly as he processed Prowl's words, Bluestreak's tiny engine whined. "But… I don't really know what a spark scan is, but a viral attack… I've read about that. They can be really, really bad. You gotta let Ratchet look. I want to make sure nothing happened to you, you're the only caretaker I have and I…"
Releasing a vent, Prowl let his doorwings dip fractionally in resignation. He put a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder to cut him off, then he looked at Ratchet. The tactician cocked an optic ridge at the CMO's expression. "You need not look so smug, Ratchet." Prowl informed the medic coolly even as he reluctantly granted him access to his port.
As Ratchet pulled out his cable, Bluestreak reached up and took the hand Prowl had placed on his shoulder and squeezed it tightly while pressing himself against Prowl's leg.
Prowl's firewalls were indeed strong and steady. Ratchet gave them a cursory once-over. /Drop them./
Prowl glared at the medic for a moment and then sighed another gust of air before doing as he was asked. For, as irritated as Ratchet was, Prowl was expecting a brute-force, assaulting scan, but it took only a few moments for him to realize that the CMO was being remarkably gentle.
"Hmm…" Ratchet murmured softly, though Prowl was acutely aware of how many audios were straining to hear. "Soundwave was focusing only on motor control, so your core programming and command cortex are undamaged. I'm not detecting any residual viral activity. What did it look like while it was active?"
Obediently, Prowl highlighted his data-log of the attack. Instead of running the file, Ratchet copied it and downloaded it to a medic-specific, buffered database.
"I deleted the actual code reference in the file," Prowl told the medic calmly. "That is merely the activity log."
"So you will be able to recognize a second attempt?" Ratchet cocked an optic ridge at the tactician. "Smart."
"I have my moments." Prowl's dry tone elicited a few quickly muffled chuckles, namely from Jazz and Smokescreen.
Ratchet eyed his patient suspiciously, but Prowl remained cooperative so the medic moved on to his command cortex and examined the spliced interface there. He frowned, looked like he was about to say something then abruptly remembered their audience and switched to internal comms. /Your emotional core is showing signs of recent stress./
Prowl stayed stubbornly silent for a moment and then nodded briefly. /As I am sure would be expected following something like a spark scan./
/Good point./ Ratchet paused for a moment. /Did the failsafe activate on the mission?/
/No,/ Prowl answered promptly, then he paused, considering his words. He continued slower, more cautiously. /But I did experience a… berserker rage, I believe is the common idiom./
Ratchet was just staring at him. "Great Primus above…"
Instantly the tension in the med-bay rocketed upward, but Ratchet did not seem to notice as he continued to stare at his patient. Through their hardline connection, Prowl could feel Ratchet's… fear? Then the medic abruptly shook it off with a physical flick of his armor. /That… that must have been a terrifying thing to behold./
/You will need to ask the others to find that answer. Unfortunately, most who witnessed it are dead. Thankfully they were all Decepticons./ Prowl's usually unflappable tone was as solid as always.
Ratchet released a snort of air. /Of course. I should not be surprised, I guess. Advanced tactical and logic, not to mention battle computers increase the likelihood that a mech will experience such a berserker rage. And you have all three. To be honest I'm surprised it hasn't happened before, though I am curious as to why First Aid didn't mention it… Unless he didn't recognize it for what it was./
Then the medic grew thoughtful, making a mental note to have all his staff members refresh their memory files on the signs and symptoms of the various types of mental break downs associated with combat, even as he continued to ponder the immediate problem confronting Prowl. /Actually, I would not be surprised if it weren't your mastery of Circuit Su that has allowed you to maintain control as well as you have. Hmm…/
Prowl had come to recognize that look and was pretty sure he would not like where the medic was headed. He was proven right as Ratchet was increasingly enthusiastic as he continued. /In fact, it might benefit all mechs with one or more of such systems. If you would be willing to consider…/
Thankfully the medic was interrupted by Bluestreak who had become increasingly nervous after Ratchet's shocked exclamation. "Is everything alright? Will Prowl be okay? What is wrong? He isn't going to die or crash or be changed in his processor is he?"
Ratchet blinked, looking down at Bluestreak and then nodded, withdrawing his cord and inserting a pain chip as he did so. "Prowl will be just fine, Bluestreak. He merely surprised me."
"Oh…" Bluestreak glanced around and clearly thought better about inquiring further. Then he looked sharply back up at his caretaker, doorwings tucking marginally. "But it's good that he checked, right?"
Now that the accumulated soreness and increasing pressure in his processor were almost gone, thanks to Ratchet's pain chip, Prowl could afford to be generous. "Indeed."
With a soft harrumph, Ratchet quickly scanned and just as quickly released all the other members of the Prime's retinue. As the CMO finally moved to Ultra Magnus, Smokescreen sidled closer to Prowl and spoke to him in quiet tones.
"Come on Prowl, I know you must be exhausted, but I'd like to go over a few things before you turn in for the orn."
Prowl released a vent of air, but would not contradict his department commander. He nodded, sending Bluestreak off to Chromia with the promise he would return shortly. "Of course, Smokescreen."
He rose from the berth Ratchet had banished him to and the two Praxians started toward the med-bay's exit but the Prime stopped them. They halted and looked over at their leader, who was leaving his sparkmate to walk toward them. A gesture toward Ultra Magnus had the Autobot SIC excusing himself from Ratchet to fall into step as well.
"Prowl, Smokescreen," Optimus rumbled calmly once he was before them. "If you will come to my office for a moment?"
It was phrased as a question, but both tacticians knew very well it was an order. They glanced at each other. Prowl looked a hint chagrined, his expression apologetic, which only increased Smokescreen's own nervous anticipation. They looked back at their Prime.
"Yes, sir." Their perfectly synchronous answer drew the attention of everyone else in the med-bay.
"Ah… sir…" Groove's hesitant words – the first he had actually spoken since they had arrived in Iacon – served to draw everyone's attention to him. His armor warmed fractionally as he forced himself to continue. "What about me?"
"I'll get ya settled." Jazz spoke up before Optimus could, stepping forward to pat the younger mech's arm reassuringly.
Seeing as that was taken care of, Optimus nodded and, with another glance at Ultra Magnus, he took his leave of the med-bay, his Second in Command right on his heel struts. Prowl and Smokescreen followed their leaders in silence. Prowl grew increasingly tense as he realized that whatever delayed consequences he might have to face were about to be revealed. Why else would Ultra Magnus be part of this discussion? It could not be a briefing because the only member of their party not already aware of issues in Simfur was Smokescreen, and there was no reason why the Prime and his Second would be involved in that.
Smokescreen looked over at his mentor and could tell that Prowl was tense. Very tense. He considered asking what the problem was then decided against doing so. No doubt he would find out soon enough.
Once the small party arrived at Optimus' office, Prowl and Smokescreen came to a stop between the Prime's desk and the conference table. Ultra Magnus continued on for several steps then turned back to face them while the Prime walked to the long window that overlooked the Command Center. Both tacticians waited patiently as Ultra Magnus crossed his arms.
Finally the Prime released a vent and turned back. The warm look in his optics surprised both smaller mechs.
"Smokescreen." Optimus began gently, carefully. "I want you to know that I have been very pleased with your performance as the head Autobot tactician and I have utmost confidence in your abilities."
The Prime gave the gray and white tactician a small nod, which Smokescreen returned with a grin, "Thank you, sir."
Optimus glanced down briefly then looked back up, his desire for Smokescreen to understand all but radiating from him. "I have never regretted bringing you into our ranks and entrusting you with the Tactical Division. You have been the best choice for that position…until now."
Prowl cringed, looking down, but in doing so he failed to see Smokescreen's brief glance his direction and then the relieved smile that spread across the other tactician's faceplate. "Thank you, sir!"
Prowl's helm snapped up and he looked incredulously at Smokescreen to see that he was now grinning victoriously.
Smokescreen's optics were shining brightly, his doorwings giving tiny flutter-like flicks. "I told you you'd be our boss some day."
A glance at Ultra Magnus showed that the Autobot SIC was uncomfortable and unhappy with the announcement. Quickly, Prowl looked at Optimus, his own doorwings flicking. "There is no need to do this, Prime. Smokescreen should not be demoted just because…"
"I am not demoting him." The Prime cut him off gently. "I am merely promoting you above him, Commander Prowl."
All of Prowl's systems stilled as he stared at the Prime. He glanced at Ultra Magnus again and saw that the SIC was frowning faintly, clearly disagreeing with the Prime's decision as much as Prowl did. But the Commander did not object verbally.
Still not moving anything, not even cycling his vents, Prowl returned his focus to Optimus. "This is a strategic mistake, Prime."
Rather than be dissuaded, Optimus graced him with a faint smile. "Perhaps. But I doubt it is the last one I will ever make. And I do not believe it is truly a mistake."
Prowl's optics narrowed into a glare that would have cowed most mechs. "Is this how well I can expect you to listen to my advice in the future?"
Smokescreen's vents hitched at Prowl's apparent disrespect and Ultra Magnus' frown turned into a scowl.
"Prime…" The light blue Commander waited until Optimus looked at him. "Respectfully, I believe I speak for many of the commanders when I say this is a little soon for Prowl to be promoted to department commander. Additionally… is it wise to reward insubordination?"
Smokescreen blinked in surprise and he looked at Ultra Magnus then at Prowl with an expression of near disbelief. Prowl? Insubordinate? Prowl's doorwings twitched in a wince at the reminder, but he understood the Commander's point.
Optimus frowned at his Second in Command and did not answer immediately. When he finally did, his tone was thoughtful and cautious, as if he wanted to make sure Ultra Magnus understood. "On face value, you are correct. However, because of circumstances and the individuals involved, Prowl's transgression was not so severe. I believe he is now clear on my expectations in such regards in the future and, surely you must see how such independence of thought and initiative is exactly what we need leading the tactical division."
"Perhaps," Ultra Magnus allowed after a long moment. "I still believe there is a risk."
Optimus frowned. "You heard Ratchet. Ultra Magnus… Prowl passed a spark scan conducted by the Senior Priest because they did not trust that he was reliable. This may be abrupt, but it is the correct decision."
The two large mechs held each other's gazes for a long handful of seconds during which Prowl could not even cycle air. At length Ultra Magnus lowered his gaze, his armor tightening against his frame. "For the most part I am personally inclined to agree, but I felt it my duty to speak for the rest of the troops and commanders." He straightened, regaining the air of command. "I will support Prowl's elevation."
Prowl's vents stalled and he turned his glare onto Ultra Magnus. "You speak as if you would trust my judgment and yet my protests in this matter go unheeded. I ask again, will this be a pattern?"
Smokescreen looked like he might glitch at any moment and Ultra Magnus merely narrowed his own optics at Prowl. Optimus, however, chuckled openly. The deep, rich sounds caught the attention of all three of the other mechs and they stared at their leader.
Optimus put a hand on Prowl's shoulder, his optics twinkling. "Only when it comes to suggestions regarding your own promotion. I do not believe you are completely objective in such matters."
Prowl hesitated for a handful of seconds, his processor racing through all the possible ramifications accepting this promotion could bring. Then he considered the wisdom of continuing to argue his point in the face of such determination. At that point he had to push aside all the logical arguments against such a promotion as well as those in favor of it. Apparently he was being promoted, whether or not he agreed it was wise or preferable.
Reluctant understanding reached, Prowl remembered he needed to answer the Prime's statement concerning his objectivity regarding himself. "Perhaps," he allowed.
"Definitely," Smokescreen piped up, grinning again, only to duck his chin a little – though the grin stayed in place – when Prowl shot him a reproachful look.
Prowl looked back up at his leader when the Prime stepped toward him. Then he held perfectly still as Optimus took an etching stylus out of subspace and added to the markings already engraved into the metal of his collar strut the glyphs that elevated him to the rank of 'commander'.
Once that was done, Prowl looked down at the new etching and released another long sigh of air. He had a feeling things were only going to get more complicated from there. He looked at Smokescreen again and felt his tanks clench at the look of unabashed, pleased pride that colored his former apprentice's faceplate.
Smokescreen's grin grew even wider as he reached up to slap the black and white mech's shoulder only to pull his hand away quickly, looking a little sheepish. "Congratulations, Prowl."
Prowl blinked at the amount of relief in his…Second's…voice. Perhaps he had underestimated the stress his young apprentice had been under; real stress, and that which he manufactured for himself. Smokescreen had never liked excessive pressure.
He released yet another vent of air. Whether he liked it or not, it was done. One of the first promises he had given the Prime – while he had still been bound to an interrogation stool – was that he would serve however the Prime decided he was needed.
Then Prowl looked up at his Prime and bowed his helm respectfully. "May you never regret the confidence you have placed in me."
"I haven't yet." Optimus answered softly and Prowl shot him a startled look. "I may have been disappointed in how you handled that situation, Prowl, but that does not mean I regret trusting you."
Prowl felt himself relax, his armor settling a little more over his frame at that assurance. It felt as if a weight had been removed from his shoulder struts and he realized just how much the possibility that the Prime might be regretting having given him a second chance was bothering him.
"By your leave, sir?" Prowl asked, straightening to attention, aware that Smokescreen had done likewise.
"A moment longer, Prowl." Optimus gave Smokescreen a pointed look and Prowl took the hint.
He looked over at his apprentice turned department leader turned second in command. "Go to tactical, I will join you there."
"Yes, Sir!" Smokescreen replied smartly and then bowed to the Prime before taking his leave.
Prowl released a huff of air at the other Praxian's obvious delight in their role-reversal. It was perplexing to him and he could not help but worry it was not entirely genuine. He would talk to Smokescreen after the Prime released him, Prowl decided. But that would have to wait.
"Sir?" Prowl questioned respectfully, returning his attention to his leader.
A look of genuine unease flicked across the Prime's expression and he actually looked down briefly before continuing. "Before your first deployment as an on-scene tactician you told me about the possible dangers of having field tactical staff… berserk. You also offered a way to prevent that."
Prowl nodded, concerned and a little puzzled that the Prime would be uncomfortable about that fact: it was one he had lived with ever since becoming the Commander of the tactical department in Praxus. "Jazz has been providing that means."
"Indeed." The larger mech shifted his armor just enough to indicate this topic was very uncomfortable for him. But it was subtle and the only reason Prowl caught it was because of the orns he had spent teaching the Prime and learning the subtle cues as to his thoughts. "It was a task well suited to his particular skill set."
Prowl nodded again, waiting. He was aware that a part of his spark was warmed that such a discussion was not an easy one for his Prime while the logical center that governed most of his processing power was troubled by that same fact. The conflict threatened to make his helm ache again and Prowl pushed it away, just waiting.
Finally Optimus continued, casting a brief look at Ultra Magnus. "However, Jazz has made it known to me that this task is one he no longer believes he can perform objectively."
Prowl stared, shocked out of his impassive façade. Was Jazz afraid he would be too trigger-happy? But that did not fit… Then it hit him, leaving the Praxian a bit loose in the tension wires. "He no longer believes he could terminate me if necessary." His words were forced if also a touch awed even as he berated himself at some level for being surprised.
"Succinctly put." Optimus grimaced at how easily it seemed that Prowl could utter such a sentence. "Do you believe that threat still exists?"
Ultra Magnus shifted but said nothing, his gaze on Prowl suddenly much more intense.
Prowl felt his doorwings tuck just enough to reveal he was not quite as disinterested as he put on. "We both know it does, Prime. You witnessed me berserk in Simfur so I cannot honestly say it cannot happen again, for it already has."
"That was precipitated by a viral attack." Optimus objected softly, pain lacing his words.
"Field tacticians will be particular targets for such attacks, if the Decepticons ever find a way. With Soundwave… you do not need me to tell you just how much of a risk it is now." Prowl answered, wishing he could say anything but the blatant, agonizing truth, knowing how it would pain Optimus. "Furthermore, in retrospect, comparing what happened then with what happened in Simfur, I regret that I must report that I probably came dangerously close to berserking during the attack on Iacon."
Optimus and Ultra Magnus were both staring at him in shock then, neither able to say anything for a long moment. It was sheer force of will that let Prowl keep his helm up as befitting a mech of his new rank.
Finally it was Ultra Magnus who broke the tense silence. "How can you say that?"
Prowl met the Commander's optics for a brief moment and then respectfully lowered them. "When I realized that Megatron had used my strategy against Iacon to destroy Praxus, it…" His vocalizer audibly hitched and Prowl had to reset it. "I nearly lost control. It was a tide of fury that I have only experienced one other time; in Simfur. During the defense of Iacon, I made it my goal to save as many lives as possible so that Megatron could not succeed in doing to Iacon what he had done to Praxus; namely an unmitigated slaughter. If…if I had decided instead to, for example, exact revenge on Megatron, I might have needlessly wasted countless lives to do so rather than focus on successfully defending the city."
It was an admission that hurt Prowl to make; he felt the shame of it stab deep into his spark and an answering twinge in his recently much-abused processor. Unbeknownst to him, both of his commanding officers were painfully aware of what it was costing Prowl to admit such things.
"How then are we to know if that should happen?" Ultra Magnus nearly choked the words past his vocalizer, moved that Prowl would be so honest with him, especially after everything he had put the mech through.
Prowl hid a wince, but he knew such a question needed to be asked in the context of such a conversation. "That is one reason why, in general, all commands from the field tactician are confirmed by field commanders. That is also why, second only to the successful completion of the mission, my highest priority is always to bring as many back alive as possible. It is not a perfect guarantee, but it is the best I can enforce on myself."
"That is not comforting, Commander Prowl," Ultra Magnus rumbled.
"Indeed it is not," Prowl agreed. "But it is an unpleasant truth. Perhaps you can take comfort in the fact that, combining my six vorns serving under Megatron, the nearly two hundred and fifty vorns I was commanding the tactical division in Praxus and the last vorn serving here in Iacon I have led over 1.84 million battles and enforcer actions and have only come close to berserking once while in tactical command – which was not the case in Simfur – and that was directly related to a very painful revelation regarding my… unintentional complicity in the destruction of my home city and the brutal murder of hundreds of thousands."
Prowl's vocalizer hitched again and he had to pause a moment before continuing. "The likelihood of anything that significant threatening my control again is slim."
Ultra Magnus eyed him. "Compelling statistics. But not foolproof."
"No," Prowl agreed softly, almost whispering.
"Then you would recommend continued precautions?" Optimus asked grimly.
Prowl merely nodded with an admirably firm, "Yes, sir."
Optimus frowned, putting a hand on Prowl's shoulder, wishing he could help carry some of the pain he knew that admission had caused Prowl. "I would prefer a method that does not kill the tactician in question. Do you have any suggestions?"
Prowl blinked at the Prime. Even in the tactical department in Praxus tacticians had been considered replaceable enough – expensive in terms of training and education but still expendable – that they had not thought beyond an efficient way to remove the threat. He felt another intangible weight ease off his spark.
The tactician ducked his helm, thinking rapidly. He was just about to request more time to consider the matter when a possible solution presented itself. He spoke cautiously. "The tracer coding Ratchet installed in my systems when I first defected. With a few relatively minor changes it could be adapted to serve the purpose of incapacitating a mech without off-lining them. It could also be specific enough to tactical operations that others may agree to the implantation."
Frowning, Optimus protested: "I do not like permanent tracer coding."
Prowl considered that for a moment then nodded, this time more firmly. "Perhaps if it had a timer triggered by activation of tactical computers and processors. If such specific programs are not activated for… perhaps a decavorn, it will delete itself. If the war should come to an end or if they should transfer out of the department, individuals could also have it removed."
Optimus considered Prowl closely then, his optics those of his new head of tactical operations. What the Prime was looking for, Prowl could not fathom, but he stood still under the intense scrutiny. "You would volunteer first for such a major system modification."
"Of course, sir," Prowl answered without hesitation, and the Prime relaxed fractionally, even if he was not overly pleased.
"For now I perceive this is the best option available. Consult with Ratchet and Jazz on the matter and bring me a report on your conclusions as soon as possible," Optimus said finally.
Beside the Prime, Ultra Magnus's armor settled a little more firmly over his frame.
"Yes, sir." Prowl gave a crisp nod, any further indication of his feelings on the matter expertly subdued. He paused, considering his leader and the fact he had not yet been dismissed. "Was there anything else, Prime?"
Optimus released a vent of air and nodded. "I believe we need to schedule a confidential and secured briefing of the command team on the situation with the AllSpark. I… believe that will also be as good a time as any to introduce you in your new role to the senior command staff. I want you to prepare that briefing and coordinate with Jazz and security for it to be held second shift next orn."
Prowl stared, that effectively ensured he would not get any appreciable time off between that moment and the start of his next shift. Then again, neither would Jazz, Ultra Magnus or the Prime, most likely. That was also part of senior command; he had no real time off.
Gathering himself quickly, Prowl nodded. "Understood, your leave?"
He was dismissed and Prowl returned it with a respectful semi-bow to both the larger mechs.
As he made his way toward the tactical division, Prowl occupied his time with organizing all the various tasks that now lay ahead of him and prioritizing them with the same ruthless efficiency of his battle computer. For a lesser mech, the volume of it all would have been overwhelming. For a mech with a differing processor setup, the immensity of it all would have been a little frightening.
For Prowl, it was like being home.
Even as his processors whirred up to full speed, Prowl did not allow himself to become so lost in his work-related duty that he forgot Bluestreak. Indeed, he made it a point to detour to see his youngling charge on his way to the tactical department. While it did irk him not to be given sufficient time to spend with the youngling, Prowl fully understood the importance of dealing with the issue of the AllSpark. He just was not sure how he would be able to convince Bluestreak of that fact.
Indeed, of all the duties and tasks that lay before him now, the only one that caused Prowl any true trepidation – at least on a personal level – was how he was going to tell Bluestreak that he would not be able to spend extra time with him that night.
Special thanks to ReigningStorm for looking over this chapter. :)
