Chapter 201 – Casualty

(SyPOV)

Symphony smiled, Lena was about her height, her strides regular and sure. The slightest uplifting and Symphony raised her foot a bit higher, not much of a raise, but enough for her to catch a toe.

But not enough to warrant that much of an uplifting...

"You raised your arm for me," Symphony murmured.

"My brother was blind," Lena stated patiently. "He held my arm the same way you do when we walked."

"Was?"

"He passed away several years ago, a drunk driver blindsided his taxi," Lena stated quietly.

"My condolences for your loss," Symphony stated sincerely.

"Thank you," Lena murmured. "But yes, my brother was blind, and as twins we were inseparable. Step over," Symphony patiently stepped over whatever the obstacle that was in her way which she had little need to trip over. "So my grandmother home schooled the both of us, I learned braille with him – another step over – and somehow his handwriting was better than mine... anyway, Gran always said Pete learned to walk with my eyes."

"How were you inseparable?" Symphony asked in a laugh.

"Apparently anytime I was taken away – be it to be fed or diapered – Pete'd start squalling his lungs out, but never if we were in the same room. We could be on either side of the kitchen and he'd be happy as a clam despite the fact that nobody knew how he knew whether I was in the room or not. He didn't bother using a cane to walk until we were fourteen, I was always his eyes. So how come you don't use a cane?"

"The children in town always stole my cane," Symphony stated patiently, shrugging. "So I learned how to walk without it."

Lena surely directed her through a set of doors, double set to judge by the whoosh and muted, ghostly howl of air rushing through tight spaces.

A few steps, another whoosh of passing doors and Symphony's senses were assailed by those of a shopping mall. The dull roar of hundreds of humans speaking in muted tones, their various scents mingled with grease and sugar laden foods. Nearby a sporting goods store, evidenced by the scents of chain grease, new rubber, and a young man's voice laughingly recounting a mishap involving his bicycle.

"Hungry for anything?" Lena asked curiously.

"Not particularly," Symphony stated patiently as she followed Lena's guiding arm.

"Right then," Lena's voice stated cheerfully, leading her toward the scent of new fabrics. "Ooh! Give these a feel!"

Symphony smiled as her hands were directed to several hanging sweaters, and in moments she was feeling her way around the store, Lena's voice comfortably nearby but never impeding her progress.

Three racks down and Symphony fairly squealed in delight at the exquisitely soft, fuzzy, nubbly texture that met her questing hands. Immediately she pulled one from the rack and hugged it.

"Found something?" Lena asked cheerfully. Symphony held the sweater out to her friend. "Ooh! I like that! Here, I'll trade you!" Symphony heard the quiet, squealing sound of metal clothes hangers sliding across the rack before the same texture met her hands once more.

"What's the difference?" Symphony asked cheerfully, caressing the fascinating cloth.

"Different colour, and it's two sizes smaller so you aren't swimming in it," Lena informed her cheerfully. "It'll still be big and squishy on you, but this one shouldn't cover your hands."

Symphony smiled and lightly tossed the sweater to rest over her shoulder as she began her quest again. The sweater slid off of her shoulder, and Symphony quickly made to snatch it before it hit the ground.

"Sorry, I'm going to put it in the basket for you," Lena informed her.

"Thank you," Symphony stated patiently, feeling her way along the racks again.

"No probs," Lena chuckled. "Ooh! Give this one a feel!"

Symphony immediately reached toward Lena's voice.

"Itchy," she stated, the second her hands met the cloth.

"Fair enough," Lena stated in a musing tone, three steps and the light squeak-click of hanger meeting rack. Symphony admittedly felt a bit of surprise at that.

"You aren't going to try to talk me into it?" she asked curiously.

"We already agreed you have power of texture veto," Lena laughed. Symphony grinned and carried on in her quest, some of the textures interested her, but not near as much as her nubbly one.

"Right, this one's probably gonna get the itch veto too, but you gotta feel it anyway," Lena's voice informed her with a bright smile. Symphony reached out and hummed, the cloth was actually soft, with very little itch to it. More fascinating however were the raised patterns that traversed the cloth.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"Fisherman's cable sweater," Lena proclaimed cheerfully. "Alpaca and sheep's wool blend."

Symphony tilted her head to the side somewhat.

"It's fascinating, which one should I get?" she asked musingly.

"Both," Lena stated happily.

"But..." Symphony began with a small frown.

"But what?" Lena asked curiously. "It's going on Soundwave's tab anyway, he asked me to make sure of it."

"Where did Ace get human money?" Symphony asked curiously, then paused as Lena burst out laughing. "What's funny about that?"

"Well, while Soundwave was a Decepticon he kinda infiltrated any number of federal computer systems," Lena laughed.

"Wouldn't that incur a fine? Or jail time?" Symphony demanded incredulously.

"Usually, yeah," Lena giggled. "Except instead of sabotaging the various governments' computer systems he upgraded the lot of them, then once he came over to the auto-bots requested remuneration for his work. You should have seen the look on Director Mearing's face!"

"Stunned?" Symphony demanded with a grin.

"Beyond stunned! And not even over the money!" Lena giggled excitedly.

"Lena what happened!?" Symphony demanded.

"Director Mearing started shouting and threatening the exact same things you offered, until your guardian – oh so patiently as he always does – informed her that as a Decepticon: Soundwave personally rebuilt and improved the entire world's existing networking technology; just so it would be worthwhile to even bother giving it a second glance!" Lena laughed outright.

"So then what happened?" Symphony asked in amusement, continuing her quest once more along the various soft, fuzzy, silky textures.

"Most of the countries that were then informed of the upgrades have pitched in a bit toward his payment plan." Lena chuckled. "He asked me to keep an eye on it and use it to buy you things."

"And how much is that?" Symphony asked in amusement.

"Well, Russia's contribution tipped it over the fifty-million mark last night, and another half million interest should show up on the existing investments in the next couple of weeks, so yeah, long story short two sweaters is a drop in the bucket sweetie."

(OPOV)

Optimus strode down the corridors, surveying the wreckage strewn about the Decepticon base.

No bot had died by his servo this orn, it hadn't been necessary.

The moment the doors had opened Stormchaser and Slashfyre had swept down the corridors with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe close behind. The four fighters had then rapidly depopulated the base, and rather than casualty reports, naught but idle complaints were spoken across the lines of communication. Complaints that the other fighters had had to split a mere dozen of the guards amongst themselves.

The reason had been simple; the young femme, Wrecker Scout Wingnut had made her way to the security consoles and effectively boxed the Decepticon guards neatly in place for the predators and fliers to deal with. That wasn't surprising, Wreckers either accomplished their missions or died trying. Quitting wasn't an option in their processors, and at times Optimus had contemplated asking if the option of denying a mission, or allowing it to process past the destruction phase was even available to them.

There were comments floating about in the thin, helium atmosphere. Helium with a heavy dose of argon, enough that the spectrum was tinged with it's violet signature. Optimus shook his helm irritably. The spectra of light passing through the atmosphere was beautiful, a beauty utterly destroyed by the presence of Shockwave's cruelty.

His Kae was blocking her emotions from him again, but Optimus understood why: their combined rage would accomplish naught but more destruction, and there had been far too much of it in this place already. The Lady High Protector strode down the corridors, scanning the femmes and compiling the data and evidence against Shockwave, while the All-spark healer looked for ways to repair them.

::. Kae!.:: Ratchet called over the comm. Instantly, Optimus straightened, listening to the medics. He'd been around Ratchet far too long to mistake that tone.

::. Shockwave has all but a few in stasis, I need a port.:: his Kae responded.

::. Kae they have mindspace blockers in place.:: Ratchet informed her in a sickened tone.

::. Which means they've been lacking contact of any decent kind for Primus knows how long.::

::. Twenty Vorn.:: a stranger femme's voice whispered, the comment originating from Ratchet's position. Optimus staggered slightly as a wave of icy rage flashed across their bond and braced himself against the wall.

::. The torment of our daughters cannot be allowed to stand!.::

Optimus was running even before his Kae's comm cut out. Along the corridor, the femmes ensconced in spark support units began coming online.

::. Kae where are you!?.:: Ratchet demanded.

::. I have her, see to the femmes.:: Optimus commanded flatly, screeching to a halt at the correct door. Simple to find, and not simply by the draw of his sparkmate. His optics adjusted themselves to maximum light filtration, finally, locating his femme precisely, and just long enough to glimpse what seemed to be hundreds of sparks, all streaking through a portal that centred in front of his mate's spark chamber. Too soon – as though his visuals were behaving as that of the holoform's – a blink, a moment, and his mate went dark, then limp.

At least he didn't need to see to know where he needed to be to catch her.

::. Optimus...:: Ratchet began softly.

::. What news Ratchet?.:: Optimus murmured quietly, cycling his optics as he held his mate propped against his chest-plates.

::. Do you want the good or the bad?.:: Ratchet asked quietly.

::. The good.:: Optimus murmured, gently shifting his Kae into a better position as her systems began coming online.

::. Mico chose to repair the ones who wish to remain behind.:: Ratchet stated quietly.

Optimus nodded, holding his Kae a bit closer as her balances went haywire. Not even the exquisite build of his mate could withstand the sheer power of the All-spark without taking some damage.

::. The bad?.:: he rumbled softly.

"The vast majority left for the Well," his Kae whispered, her voice barely audible in the thin atmosphere. Optimus looked down at his mate and ran a gentle thumb across her cheek plating. No tears escaped the optics of his femme; it was extraneous, an unnecessary waste of fluids.

But the spark of his femme would always remember that caress as one of consolation, of care. It was traditional, instinctual among the humans.

::. Scans show there are only six sparks remaining outside of our own forces.:: Ratchet reported softly. Optimus pulled his mate tightly into his chest-plates, clinging to her as tightly as she held onto him.

::. The Delta trine?.:: Optimus asked quietly.

::. We three survive.:: a deeply dominant femme's voice stated sternly. ::. Now leave us be medic, see to our sisters.::

Silence. Optimus glanced down as his Kae twitched slightly, a tiny smile gracing her faceplates.

::. I want you all in my med bay later for proper scans.:: Ratchet stated flatly.

Optimus rolled his optics; without doubt, Ratchet was now glaring at the femme.

::. Good, we shall leave together. See to our sisters.:: Silverwing commanded flatly.

::. Kae, report.:: Ratchet stated flatly.

::. I burnt out a few transistors, nothing vital.:: Kae stated patiently, gently shifting to press a kiss to his jaw. Optimus automatically straightened somewhat, allowing his mate to return to her first task: freeing the frightened little femme staring at him with enormous violet optics.

∂You're a grounder∂ she whispered. Optimus nodded calmly. ∂Why aren't you hurting us?∂

∂He's my mate∂ his Kae stated with a small smile.

∂You bonded a grounder? Willingly!?∂ the femme demanded incredulously.

∂I did∂ Mikaela murmured patiently, carefully catching the little femme as she fell forward.

∂My... I have legs again!?∂ the femme demanded in a shocked tone, looking down as she leaned against Kae. The little femme began trying to stand on her own, optics dimming. ∂I have legs, why aren't my systems registering my legs!?∂

∂Take it easy∂ his mate commanded gently, delicately lifting the little femme. ∂Mico just re-grew them, it'll take your systems time to compensate. My Optimus will carry you in the meantime.∂

Optimus couldn't help but smile as he automatically reached out, accepting the little flier femme his mate rather unceremoniously deposited in his arms. He turned, carefully cradling the femme to his chest-plates as he followed his Kae toward the muster point.

∂My creators talked about an Optimus once, a long time ago. Optimus Prime. He was the emperor of Cybertron until the High Protector decided he wanted to rule. Creator said he planned to join the Prime, before we were captured. Were you designated after him?∂ the little femme asked curiously, looking up at him with trusting optics.

∂I am him∂ Optimus smiled down at the little femme before he looked gravely at the fliers staring at him.

The femme looked where he did, and shrank closer against his chest.

∂Please don't let them hurt me, Prime,∂ she whimpered, burying her face into his chest.

∂Never again, femme, never again.∂ Starscream announced firmly beside him. Optimus glanced at the flier and nodded respectfully as the Air Commander patted his shoulder plating.

(IPOV)

Ironhide obediently followed his Chromia through the corridors. He outranked his femme amidst the Auto-bot ranks, but here? Surrounded by the broken husks of so many femmes he sure as slag knew better than to try and pull rank on his intended.

Chromia stalked down the corridors ahead of him, seeking out the living femmes the scans said were somewhere along hereabouts.

∂Ironhide!∂ his 'Mia barked out.

∂Yes Ma'am∂ he rumbled back automatically. The fliers were watching him in astonishment, Ironhide didn't give a slag about that though, no-bot crossed his Chromia, especially not him.

∂These two survive∂ Chromia stated flatly, standing before two femmes still trapped in their spark support chambers. Two pair of optics stared at the femme in shock, then at him in terror. ∂ Understand well you two,∂ Chromia stated flatly, she turned and gestured to him. ∂That mech belongs to me, I will not see you attempting to seduce his spark from mine.∂

Stunned, Ironhide reached for his intended across their betrothal bond.

~'Mia why are you bullying them? They've been hurt enough...~ he sent to her unsurely. Her response damn near shocked him into glitching.

~They've been here so long they can't tell who's going to harm them, and who'll help. Sweet talking isn't going to help them, the mechs that did were lying. I'm not bullying them, I'm informing them that you aren't going to touch their sparks, that they can trust you~ Chromia sent to him in a pained tone.

Ironhide shook his helm in confusion and scanned the femmes before beginning to disconnect them from the chambers they were trapped in. He glanced at the cannons on his arms and grimaced somewhat, furtively glancing around before disconnecting and putting them in his subspace. The two femmes needed the space on his arms more than the cannons did.

Careful to not so much as accidentally brush their connectors, Ironhide gently lifted the two femmes and turned, obediently following his Chromia as she led the way back to the ex-fill again.

Which meant walking past the fliers again. Ironhide cycled his vocal processor, shutting it down for a moment to make absolutely certain he didn't laugh; 'cause the look on the fliers faceplates was priceless as Chromia strode toward them. They couldn't be certain whether they should be terrified or aroused.

Chromia tended to have that effect on a mech.

∂I'm so tired∂ one of the femmes whispered. Ironhide glanced down at the optics staring wearily up at him and automatically hitched the femmelings a little closer to his spark.

∂Shutter your optics, little ones, Uncle Ironhide's gonna keep you safe∂ Ironhide murmured gently. He smiled as the two femmes looked at each other and reached out, linking their servos before dropping into half-stasis with their helms comfortably over his spark.

∂May we have the honour of helping to bear them,∂ one of the fliers stated formally. Ironhide looked up and started. One of the trine dominants - his mates closely flanking - was watching him speculatively. Chromia had paused in her trek, she'd turned and was looking at him with the tender, gentle optics reserved 'specially for him.

∂Be best to not separate them yet, I think∂ he rumbled finally. He glanced down at the femmes for a moment, then back up at the fliers, grimacing slightly. ∂I'd appreciate a few cannons nearby, though, don't much like roamin' about without my cannons.∂

The fliers around him grinned then, bringing half-cycled cannons back to the forefront of their processes, and flanking him as his 'Mia shot the lot of them an approving look.

(APOV)

Six femmes. Of the hundreds of her ilk, only six had chosen to remain.

It had been a somber trip back to the Ark, through the space-bridge, and down to Earth. No bot – not even the flier trine re-united with their undamaged femme – entered the atmosphere under their own power.

Arcee looked at the fliers as her mate finished his examination.

"As I told you, medic," Silverwing stated in clipped tones. "They could not risk slagging me, not with two seeker mates capable of finding me the second I came online again. See to my sisters."

"Grounder sisters?" Slashfyre teased her gently.

"Yes, grounder sisters my mate, you will have to grow accustomed to me seeing to their wellbeing. I was undamaged yet unable to assist them, that must be rectified," Silverwing stated firmly.

Numbly, Arcee watched her mate as he walked down the line of berths, scanning each femme as they laid in regenerative stasis.

Numbly, because her mate had once again shut his emotions down. Arcee understood why, and her spark ached on his behalf.

It was the only way he knew how to keep going through his grief. Their shared grief.

Then, he returned to the first and sat at her helm, gently easing back the plating.

"What are you doing Medic?" Silverwing snarled at him.

"I am removing the mindspace blocker circuit Shockwave installed," Ratchet reported flatly, emotionlessly. Silverwing promptly brought a cannon online, aiming it at him. Arcee snarled at the femme and was between that cannon and her mate the next second.

"Not with your emotional circuits offline, you're not," Silverwing stated flatly, ignoring her. Arcee glowered at the femme for a moment longer before turning to her mate.

"She's right, my love," she stated quietly.

"Go," Archangel stated firmly the next moment. Arcee started and looked up at the femme as she strode into the med bay. Kae never used that tone with Ratchet.

"Kae..." Ratchet began flatly, Arcee shuddered as the Lady High Protector blasted her mate with a glower straight from the pit itself.

"Medic Ratchet you've had your emotional circuits shut down from the moment you began scanning the femmes on that asteroid." Archangel Prime stated sternly. "You and your mate are to report to your quarters and disengage your suppressors. Now."

"With all due respect Prime-" Ratchet began flatly.

"The femmes need their mindspace blockers removed before they come online again, why do you think I'm here ∂Father?∂" Kae stated gently, reaching out and cupping Ratchet's shoulders. "I'm just as capable of the task and you know it, now get to your quarters and into your recharge with your mate before those suppressors of yours cripple you both."

"It's unnatural besides," Slashfyre commented gruffly.

"Medics are supposed to at least be grumpy!" Stormchaser finished cheerfully.

Arcee vented a sigh of relief as her mate's suppressors cut out, she turned and immediately crawled onto his legs, tucking herself tightly against his chest-plates. Silverwing immediately relaxed on her own berth as Ratchet looked around at the six remaining femmes, their shared grief humming out of his spark once more as he rose. Arcee cuddled against him as closely as she could possibly manage.

"Good recharge Medic, Baroness," Silverwing stated formally, Arcee nodded, too tired to argue the point as her mate carried her to their quarters.

The door slid open and Arcee sagged into her Ratchet in relief.

"Chrome says we're recharging with you lot tonight," Ironhide rumbled matter-of-factly. Arcee noted in exhausted amusement that Ironhide's cannons were back out of his subspace, and laying close at servo once more.

"Such is the lot of the mates of a sisters' trine, just try not to throw me out of berth like you always did on outpost four," Ratchet rumbled in a choked tone. Ironhide reached out then, sitting up somewhat with Chromia and Flare all but magnetized to his chest. Gently, Ratchet laid Arcee down in the remaining space on the broad mech's chest-plates.

"C'mere you ol' rustbucket," Ironhide rumbled gently, Arcee laughed, she couldn't help it as her mate snorted. It was a painful, choked sound on both of their parts, but it was a start.

Ironhide had his free arm around Ratchet the next moment, the Weapons Master holding her medic close to his chest-plates, and by default, close to her. They stayed that way for a silent breem.

"How do you do it?" Flare asked in a soft, grieved tone.

"Do what?" Ironhide rumbled quietly.

"The four of us grieve, but your spark is still neutral," Flare stated quietly, just barely touching an accusing tone as she tilted her helm slightly to look at him.

"Five hundred femmes went offline three-quarters of a joor ago, five hundred femmes who were tortured, maimed, and forced to stay online past their mates offlinin'. That's five hundred femmes whose sparks are reunited with their mates in the Well, they're no longer in pain-"

"Their pain receptors were disabled-" Ratchet began.

"You know what I mean, Ratch. They chose to go offline, Flare, the All-spark gave 'em the choice and now they ain't sufferin'." Ironhide rumbled quietly. "But in all o' this grief n' loss six of those femmes stayed online. We got six more femmes to take care of, and in spite of all o' this grief somebot's gotta keep that in processor or we're all gonna glitch out. Besides, I've got Chromia to grieve for me."

(MPOV)

My optics snapped online, in a moment I'd jerked upright, glancing around myself somewhat blearily. I'd heard footsteps. A rapid scan proved the Delta trine dead to the world, recharging in an almost indistinguishable pile of servos, the five unbound femmes fully repaired and still deep in regenerative stasis, and Wingnut skulking behind the doorjamb.

"Wing?" I asked softly.

Wingnut squeaked softly, a tiny clang denoting her having jumped in her surprise.

"Quit skulking behind the door and come in Wingnut," I stated patiently, quickly re-syncing my processors, again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, Prime," Wingnut stated shyly, creeping through the door with her optics downcast. She looked like my little-brother after a chargefright.

"Chargefright?" I asked gently.

"I shouldn't have-" Wing started shyly, turning somewhat back toward the corridor.

"No, you absolutely should have, and you are," I stated gently, lightly reaching out and collecting the little femme, cuddling her gently as she buried herself into my chest plating. "It's one thing to march off to battle, another entirely to make it home again. We're all wounded, Wing, but not all wounds require welding."

"It could have been me," Wingnut whispered in a horrified voice. I hummed softly as Wing began crying, the little frame shaking in my arms as I rocked and gentled her. I glanced around and noted Silverwing's optics online once more in the half-light, the flier femme held my optics for a long moment before she nodded to me. I returned her acknowledgement calmly and gently cupped a hand around Wing's frame, cradling her close to my spark as she released the after tones of her fear and horror. Then finally, after a breem of tears the little Wrecker Scout simply dropped into her recharge, listening to my spark.

I shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall as I shuttered my optics. Primus only knew when the femmes were going to rouse, and neither Ratchet nor I were going to forcibly rouse, nor lock them back into stasis again. I cycled my processors down somewhat, dropping back into half stasis as I sat guard over the femmes. In communications my mate was dealing with the directors, across base the mechs that had accompanied us catching some recharge. Another battle was finished, another step in the ceaseless march of war. Yet for all that the combined fighters had watched each other's afts magnificently, on this occasion, deep down in their sparks; every bot that had watched that asteroid base reduced to a nebulous cloud of dust by the Ark's cannons had become an apodictic casualty of a deeply cruel, and merciless war.