Finding Home

Chapter 14

By Voodoo Queen

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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I'm happy to be back with another chapter. In this one, our plot begins to thicken...as if we didn't already have enough problems, right? It's the first part of that whole semi-tragic thing I mentioned. I'm horrible! I'll try to get another chapter up next week. Moving right along...Many thanks to those who've added this story to their faves and follows since my last update. I'm happy to have you along for the ride! Extra special thanks to those who've taken time to review: Edges05, Alice Gone Madd, The Whispering Sage, jojoniles, Autobot-Bre-Lightblast, HenriettaDarlington, Guests (you know who you are), TheGreenWallFlower, rybkakoi, adelphe24

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.

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The brig had become something of a home away from home for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker since joining the Autobot cause. Honestly, the punishment didn't bother them as much as Prowl liked to think. Not that they'd ever confess that bit of information. Sure, Sideswipe easily grew bored with nothing to keep him occupied and Sunny lamented the fact that while incarcerated he had to go without a wash and wax but it was certainly better than the alternative. They could appreciate that someone still had a sense of law and order even after all this time. Even if that someone did have a stick up their aft bigger than a giant California Redwood. Even if they were the ones on the receiving end of the SIC's so-called 'justice'.

They were sure Prowl chalked their occasional deviance up to the fact that they'd grown up in Kaon. It was, after all, considered to be the most lawless and dangerous places on Cybertron. The city-state, dissatisfied with the High Council's political agenda, had fallen to Decepticon rule long before the war had broken out, its citizens subjected to the barbaric whims of its ruling class. Those with the means to do so had fled leaving behind the less fortunate to fend for themselves. False promises of equality and prosperity had quickly turned into violent oppression and poverty. The underground fighting pits had been only one of the more disturbing aspects that had popped us as a means for desperate bots to make a few credits while providing entertainment for the upper class. Kaon would also become infamous for its smelting pools where those who outspokenly disagreed with their Decepticon overlords had been put to death.

It had been a perfect storm of death, discontent, and violence. The perfect place for Megatron to make his bid for power.

They had been a couple of the lucky ones. Though, right now they certainly didn't feel like it.

They were confined to opposite cells across from one another once again. Sunstreaker sat on the edge of a low, metal berth bolted into the wall. It wasn't meant for comfort, not like the one he recharged in every night in their berthing. It was simply there so the detainee wasn't forced to recharge on the floor. His elbows were propped on his knees and his head cradled in his hands as he nursed a terrible headache. Ratchet had clocked him in the head with a compressor wrench hard enough to scramble his circuits. It had the desired effect, however, leaving his processor too rattled to put up any further resistance. Sides, hoping to spare himself the same fate, had managed to rein himself in enough to escape serious injury. Lucky mech.

Sideswipe circled restlessly around inside of his own cell, one hand to his mouth, nervously biting on his thumb. His leg still ached where Ratchet had rewired the relay that had been damaged while fighting with his brother. He didn't think either of them expected things to get so out of hand or get so complicated. He kept telling himself over and over that things shouldn't be this hard. There had to be a proper way to handle the situation. Unfortunately, there was no precedent. They were winging it on their own through completely uncharted territory. The only upside to their predicament was that Sunstreaker now seemed willing to work with him rather than against him towards a common goal.

A pained groan from the other cell pulled the silver twin's attention and he rolled over to grasp the bars that separated him from his brother. "You doing alright over there, Sunshine?"

"Don't call me that," the yellow mech groused. "I swear if we ever get out of here, I'm going back to the med bay and shoving that fragging wrench up Ratchet's aft port."

Sideswipe chuckled, "One thing at a time, dear brother."

"Yeah," Sunny agreed. "You're right." He dropped his hands and sighed. "What do you want to do? You know more about her than I do...at least she likes you."

It was Sides' turn to sigh, "She seemed to. At the very least she was friendly. Now..." the mech shook his head. "I don't know. Did you see her face?"

"She looked terrified." Sunny cursed under his breath, "This slagging mess is all my fault. I said some really fragged up things..."

"It's over with, Sunny." Sideswipe vented heavily, "Its done. The important thing is that she's alright. We've got time to figure this out. Right now we need to focus on getting out of here and doing some damage control. If this is hard for us I can only imagine what it must be like on her end."

"Yeah," Sunstreaker reluctantly agreed with a nod. "I know, I just..."

The sound of the brig door being unlocked ground the conversation to a sudden halt. Both mechs knew instantly who was coming to see them by the off-balance, shuffling gait. It was no surprise at all when Jazz stepped out of the shadows. His normally jovial demeanor was gone and in its place was the face of Third in Command. Given the mech's outgoing, laid back, fun-loving personality, it was easy to forget that Prime had entrusted him with a high leadership position. This was a stark reminder.

Though the mech's optics were hidden behind his visor, the twins could feel the intensity of his stare as he grabbed the chair, meant for a guard should there be need of one, and dragged it out to the middle of the floor between the cells. It made a loud screeching sound as the metal ground against the double-reinforced concrete of the floor. Without a word, the mech settled down upon it, and seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts in order. The twins knew he had spoken to Amy and waited nervously for whatever he might have to say.

"You know," Jazz started, "I let you two get away with a lot." His voice was measured, devoid of the accent and slang he'd adopted since coming to Earth. "I looked the other way when that crate of energon went missing from the rec area and was replaced with high grade despite the fact that Ironhide had to take Sam home that night because Bee was too overcharged to see straight. I didn't say a word when someone hacked into the information data base and changed the signatures on all of Mirage's recon reports to Chef Boyardee. I even 'forgot' to tell Prowl that all his missing data pads are shoved under Sideswipe's berth. Believe me, I get it." Jazz shook his head, "This war has been hard on everyone. Happiness is hard to come by and there's nothing wrong with having a little fun when you can. As long as it isn't interfering with our mission here and no one is getting hurt, I have no problem with it. However," He paused for a moment before continuing, "What I will not tolerate is the two of you tormenting one of our allies, someone under my direct command, for your amusement. That is completely unacceptable and I'm not just going to stand back and let it happen."

"You can't be slagging serious," Sunstreaker was up on his feet in a flash. "Tormenting?"

"No," Sideswipe denied, "It isn't what you think..."

"No?" Jazz raised a brow, "Then would one of you please enlighten me as to why it looks like the two of you have had it out for Petty Officer Doe since the moment she stepped off the plane because I'd love an explanation."

"We don't owe you an explanation," Sunny snarled.

"Really," Jazz looked at the mech, unimpressed. "So I don't suppose you have anything to say about dragging her to the other side of the island last night and dumping her there, either?"

"I didn't dump her!"

"Sunny," Sideswipe warned. He could feel his brother getting wound up all over again. "Look, Jazz, it's all a big misunderstanding. We know she was upset but Sunstreaker and I will fix it."

"Fix it?" Jazz leveled his gaze on the silver twin. "Let me tell you something, I've been all over this universe fighting this Primus-forsaken war. I've encountered a lot of different species. Some good, some bad, and some down right ugly. Humans, though, they're not all that different than we are where it matters. I suggest you remember that. They're small and they're fragile, but they have thoughts and emotions just like we do. You can't just play with them like they're toys. They get hurt. If you hadn't noticed, that femme was scared to death this morning. It's making her sick."

"She's sick?" A deep frown creased Sideswipe's faceplates, one hand moving to rest over his spark chamber. He caught his brother's concerned look and asked, "Is she alright?"

Jazz continued on as if he hadn't spoken. "I don't know what kind of scheme you two have going on and I don't really care but it stops now. You're going to leave Petty Officer Doe alone, do you understand?"

Sunstreaker snorted, "You can't tell us who we can and can't talk to on our own time."

Jazz shook his head at the yellow twin's stubbornness. "I've kept Optimus and Prowl out of this for now but if I hear or see you, either of you, messing with my charge again you're going to have a lot more to worry about than spending some time in the brig. Do you compute?"

"Oh," Sunstreaker let out a bark of laughter. "So she's your charge now?"

Jazz gave each mech a pointed look as he stood and returned the chair to where he found it. "I'm giving you the opportunity to do the right thing, here, before things get ugly."

Sunstreaker gave a derisive snort and turned to stomp back over to the berth and slump back down against the wall.

"What about you?" The TIC glared in Sides' direction. "Got anything smart to say?"

"Not particularly," Sideswipe solemnly shook his head. "Don't worry Jazz, we'll do the right thing."

"See that you do." With that, Jazz turned and limped back the way he came, the brig door opening once more before slamming shut and locking behind him.

"Sunny," the silver mech muttered, "We've got to get out of here."

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Amy lay atop her bunk staring blankly at the ceiling. She'd traded out her uniform for her PT gear, a bright yellow t-shirt with 'NAVY' emblazoned across the back and left breast in reflective lettering and a pair of dark blue sweats with the same written down the sides of the legs in yellow. If she had to be miserable at least she could do so in comfort. She'd cried when she'd gotten back to her room. It was an ugly cry, the kind that leaves your face red and snotty, your head pounding, and your breath hitching for long afterward. Her whole body seemed to ache in time to her heart beat. The electric crackle in her chest continued unabated but had lost its painful edge. She was tired. It was a pervasive kind of exhaustion that seemed to reach all the way down to her bones.

Her thoughts were on the events in the med bay, on the twins. She'd been terrified but she'd also been worried. Enough so that she'd blurted out some of what plagued her mind to Jazz. The mech had seemed genuinely concerned, upset even. He'd wanted to know why she hadn't said anything sooner, before she'd worried herself sick. Of course, she'd left out a few details, mainly the part about how the twins had shocked her and now she felt like bottled lightning. She was pretty sure the Army doctor thought she was nuts and she didn't want Jazz to think the same. She'd never been one to confide in others but the words had kept tumbling out. In her near panic, she hadn't been able to appreciate how good it felt to talk to someone else. To have them actually listen. To have them act like they actually cared.

In the back of her mind, though, she worried for the twins. There was no rhyme or reason to it. She didn't know them very well. She wasn't sure what it was that drew her to them, even Sunstreaker who honestly scared her. When they were close, at least, when she'd been close to Sideswipe and not terrified out of her mind, the hum in her chest wasn't as bothersome or intense. It further fueled her suspicion that her current state had something to do with the two of them. Regardless, they'd looked horrible when she'd seen them and she hoped they were alright. She couldn't bring herself to dwell on that now, though.

She sighed and turned over, curling up onto her side. She snagged the standard-issue, gray wool blanket folded at the foot of her bed and pulled it up over herself, tucking the material under her chin. It seemed that ever since she'd come to Diego Garcia that the carefully crafted niche she'd manage to make for herself was being systematically ripped apart. She was surprised that it hurt as much as it did. She should have been used to it by now. It seemed that anytime she got comfortable and got into a routine that something would come along and foul it all up. It made her wonder why she even bothered. Maybe, she mused, things would be better after some time and distance. Closing her eyes, she slipped into a fitful sleep.

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The once flourishing metropolis had seen better days. At one time it had been a hub of industry and production. Now, however, it was a shell of its former glory. Time and poor policies had ran the most successful companies out of business. Run-down, dilapidated factories and warehouses were plentiful, their skeletal, crumbling remains a grim reminder of all the city had lost in its economic depression. The industrial park had become a virtual ghost town. Even the vandals had ceased to gather there.

It was perfect.

The roar of a jet engine was followed closely by a shuddering landing and the sounds of transformation. Optics, the color of crimson, surveyed the area with antipathy. He hated this vile planet and the insects that infested it with every molecule of his being. He wanted nothing more than to subjugate it, to see it crumble beneath his will. The only obstacle between him and his goal were the Autobots, specifically Optimus Prime. The mech clung to his principles and honor as if they alone were enough to save him and this foolish planet. He would fail in the end. Just as he'd failed to save Cyberton. The humans would perish.

Heavy footfalls moved the mech toward the nearest abandoned building. With no effort, he raised one of the docking bay doors and ducked beneath it, allowing it to clatter back shut behind him. It took a moment for the aperture his optics to adjust to the much dimmer interior but when they did, he allowed them to sweep over the place. It had been an automobile factory at one point, manufacturing those primitive vehicles humans used to move around. The assembly line, long ago deserted, stretched out before him still and unmoving. Archaic robotics slowly rusting into oblivion sat poised and as if awaiting the word from their human masters to carry on with their work. With a disgusted sneer, the mech turned away, moving farther into the decrepit building.

He bellowed, "Starscream!"

There was a tense pause and then, "I'm here, master."

The mech turned in the direction of the voice, stalking his way deeper into the darkness. The scent of metal and ozone assaulted his olfactory nodes, becoming stronger the farther he went. He finally caught sight of the other mech scurrying around in the dark. "Report," he demanded.

"Ah, Lord Megatron," Starscream greeted in a mocking tone. "How good that you've returned. I hope you're sabbatical did you well..."

"I don't care for your pleasantries," Megatron dismissed his SIC with a wave of one wickedly clawed hand. Instead, he approached the far wall where the mech had been working to peer into the first of a line of of pods filled with a wet-looking, gelatinous material. Tubes and wires ran into the pods, connecting to a motionless protoform within. "What is the status of my army?"

"Well, you see, master," Starscream wrung his hands, "There was a reason this practice was abandoned and outlawed by the Council..."

Megatron rounded on the mech, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You must understand, protoforms, when artificially grown such as these, are sparkless shells. Without the presence of creators to pass on their combined spark signatures or the Allspark to animate them, they'll die." Starscream raised his hands to protect his faceplates as Megatron raised his hand to strike him. "Wait! Wait! Please, master! Let me explain! I may have a solution!"

"What sort of a solution?" Reluctantly, Megatron lowered his fist and threatened, "Fail me in this, Starscream..."

"I won't, master." Starscream eagerly promised, "That I can assure you."

End of Chapter 14