Authors Note: I would like to take a moment to apologize for the long delay between updates. I got hung up on trying to write a suitable conclusion to the scene between Phage and Megatron. I felt it was their conversation. Megatron wouldn't shut up. No matter how I tried to edit or shorten his sections it felt wrong. Nineteen drafts later, I finally realized that it wasn't their conversation that was bothering me -but the ending! I had to give Phage her due. Uuuuuggghhhh! While I'm trying to fix that mess, I'm uploading what was the first six pages to the chapter as its own piece.
Additionally, I would like to apologize for the fake Chapter 6 update. Half of people who click the first chapter drop off from chapter one to two so I broke it into two separate pieces in the hopes of drawing in more readers. It was something that was bothering me since posting Resonance and was finally brought up by Tennoda. Thank you for commenting about that, it really was a problem.
As a side note, I did some digging and finally found the term synthoplasmic to describe the flesh-looking metal of the Pretender Transformers. I intend to replace that word from now on with the 'flexi-metal' term I was using to describe the flexible metal of the Cybertronian faces and Phage's synth appearance.
Before I forget, I would like to say a big thank you to StormSpark, Phoenixless9819 and BarrelRacer1205 for favoriting and following Resonance! Thank you all for your support!
"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside of us while we live."
-Norman Cousins
Stall. Redirect. Organize.
"You want me to do what?"
Prowl never once looked up from his datapad in hand to address Huffer's dour retort to his previous order. The inevitable resistance and surly disposition from the minibot had been calculated with one-hundred percent accuracy. As with predictable data, Prowl did not bother to give it his full attention.
"Ratchet requires replacement exodermal shells and essential component parts for half the crew if we are to stay on schedule and get everyone repaired. I've already uploaded the list to your personal computer at your forging station. And if you will excuse my exercise into tautology Huffer," the mech in question grumbled something dark and rude under his breath that Prowl fully ignored while scanning the contents of a plethora of reports on his datapad, "the requisition order needs to be completed immediately."
"What's the point." True to his very name, Huffer heaved a heavy sigh through his vents with a lackluster shrug. Prowl was sixty-two percent certain that the deep frown lines on Huffer's synthoplasmic face had been there the day Huffer was forged and was not a direct bearing of his age. "I build the replacement parts and the 'Cons just break everyone again, just like everything else I build. For once, just once, I would like something I forge to stay that way."
Prowl was careful in choosing his next words carefully. He needed the orange and purple minibot to create the parts so Ratchet could install them to get everyone back up and functional. It was also simply unfortunate that Huffer was prone to severe bouts of depression that would occasionally render him inert to complete any of his functions. With Optimus Prime's termination, morale hung on very tentative threads of hope hinged entirely on whether Jazz's team would succeed in retrieving Phage and the Matrix. Huffer was no exception to the shock of the battle's outcome that day, and perhaps minorly afflicted more than others in scales as little as point-one-percentages in that he had to haul Prime's trailer back to base while Ratchet handled Optimus's body. Since then, Huffer had wasted precious hours sitting around on one of the Medbay berth's staring between Optimus Prime's covered body and a corner of the far wall, despite the fact that the minibot had only sustained minor superficial mesh and cosmetic damage to his paint job. With Huffer already in a delicate emotional state, Prowl understood that it was imperative that he push Huffer in the right direction without knocking him completely off his emotional ledge.
Prowl needed to stall Huffer's emotional descent and redirect his energies to further the Autobots goals which was, at that point in time, getting everyone organized. It was the organization part that had always been tricky for Prowl. He was not Jazz. He could not connect with mechs the way that Jazz could and he could not inspire mechs the same way that Optimus could. Just listening to Prime made mechs want to give it their all and lay down their lives if necessary. When Jazz opened his mouth mechs leaned forward to hang on his every word. When Prowl opened his mouth he just had a general tendency of pissing mechs off. Part of him really could not help it. It was his analytic processor. He saw through mechs and saw how to manipulate them to get what he wanted. He could play for sympathy, act the part, but every mech alive on Earth knew him. There was no hiding who he was from allies or enemies that he had fought alongside and against respectfully for five million years.
After crafting and testing twenty-seven avenues that could possibly lead Prowl to winning Huffer over, only two held any strong probability of working. A nanoklik later, Prowl chose between the two routes based on a six-percent margin of probability.
Prowl broke contact with the contents of his datapad and locked optics with the minibot. "Huffer, you already have forged something that has stood the test of time."
The minibot's weary-laden optics narrowed, challenging. "Yeah, what?"
"The Ark."
The grim line of Huffer's lips broke and pulled apart. His optics lit with something beyond just gruff pessimism- surprise enlightenment. Pushing his advantage, Prowl made a show of glancing around the Medbay as if seeing beyond just its walls to the rest of the ship. "You helped forge this vanguard class ship Huffer, and it has stood the test of time for four million years."
When Prowl turned his attention back to Huffer, the minibot tried to cover up the swell of pride with lackluster grumbling. "Yeah well, it's in terrible shape. Barely functional, I'd say."
"I don't know. I think in time we can get her up and humming again."
A noise that was not quite a grumble and not quite a hum rumbled from Huffer's vocal processor and got hung up at the return of his hard pressed frown. "Getting her flying again, that would be something to see if it weren't impossible. Damn fragging volcano has made steady work of trying to press it back to its base material components. And don't get me started on hull damage from our initial impact. Then there's-"
"But it could be done."
Huffer's words got hung up at Prowl's interruption, but he quickly recovered and replied moodily, "No, no." He shook his head, "There's too much damage. The hull is in shreds. The frame is most likely bent. It's a wonder she's still functioning at all."
"Exactly." Before Huffer could comment on his confusion to what Prowl was stating, the tactician continued, "She's a wonder of modern engineering, Huffer. And you had a part of that. Four million years and she is still functioning- despite impact. Despite seismic activity and the unrelenting forces of time. The alloys you used to forge the hull were durable enough that not even the Ark's anti-matter core was damaged!"
"Shut up." Huffer mock blustered and glanced aside. "All your flattery is just embarrassing." Then, he added as an aside, "The metal alloys used in the hull could have been better if we had not wasted so much of the good resources back on Cybertron."
Steadily, Prowl inhaled through his olfactory and flushed it out through his vents in a low rush. "Surely if you are capable of forging something as wondrous as the Ark, then smelting up some exodermal shells and replacement parts are nothing too significant."
"I suppose you're going to tell me you want it done within the decacycle."
"Need I even say it."
Huffer grimaced. "Half the crew..." he was grumbling to himself, "I can't get it all done in a decacycle."
"Of course someone of your talents can. But would your stress load be alleviated if you had an assistant?"
The minibot's frown deepened into a sneer. "It would..." he snapped off sarcastically, "-if Megatron hadn't of made off with my assistant. You know her, nice kid with a smart mouth. Swings a hammer with a grudge. Name is Phage."
"I...don't know about that hammer part, but if Phage had not been captured I'm sure you would have had to fight Ratchet over where she would be most needed. Given the circumstances of events however, would Windcharger suffice?"
"Ugh. Windcharger! Really? He'd do more harm than good using those damn magnetic arms of his. You know he doesn't use restraint. He'd set me back within the first cycle so catastrophically-"
"So you are telling me you can handle the requisitions yourself."
"If I couldn't handle something as minimal as exodermal shells do you think Prime would have personally requested me for the crew of..." his grumbling trailed off as he looked at Prowl critically. "I see what you did there."
Prowl permitted himself a self-satisfied smirk. "You are right, Huffer. Optimus requested you personally because of your extraordinary talents. That said, imagine what Optimus Prime would say when Jazz's team returns and we revive Prime, and he learns that the majority of the Autobots are not combat ready with the Decepticons close on Jazz's exhaust trail."
Huffer's face crumpled up into his customary frown. "If he succeeds..."
"He will." Prowl felt it did not need saying that he had already run hundreds of scenarios and had reasonably calculated a high success rate. The Decepticons were as damaged as they were. Megatron could not possibly be expecting an extraction team so quickly, and even if he was they had had multiple successful extractions in the past from the Decepticon seabase. The place just was not as heavily fortified as Kaon had been on Cybertron. Additionally, its location under the ocean was also quite a beneficial boon to any arrival or retreat. After sixteen Earth years, it was nearly combat code to flood the Decepticon base before finishing a battle. It afforded confusion, chaos, and the Decepticons quartexs worth of time to clean up the mess and give the Autobots a breather.
He expected Jazz to do no less.
"And when Jazz returns I expect Ratchet's requisitions request to be fully underway, if not complete."
The minibot grumbled but languidly shifted his ligaments to slide off the medberth and onto his feet. "I'll see what I can do Prowl, but I can't make any promises. Our store of supplies isn't what it use to be."
"I'm confident you'll outperform, as you normally do."
Huffer's departure from the Medbay was marked by low self-grumblings and a halfhearted wave of his hand over his shoulder strut without a backward glance at Prowl. His feet dragged as he left, and Prowl made a note to inquire with Ratchet about prescribing mood suppressants for Huffer.
Stall. Redirect. Organize.
Prowl turned aside to scan the Medbay for Ratchet to personally relay the small bit of good news to him and came up short. His optics caught sight of Optimus Prime's corpse laid out in the center of the medical ward under a long cloth stained with Prime's energon. By the bulk of the body beneath, it was evident that Optimus Prime's head was missing. Prowl froze up. Every time he caught sight of Prime's body it was like a swift punch to the fuel tanks from Megatron himself and yet, Prowl found he could not look away.
How could Megatron have gotten the upper hand?
Out of eons of practice, Prowl began to slip into running the battle scenario of the day over in his processor. Unbidden, his thoughts immediately slipped from that to darker roads. Prowl caught himself running battle simulations over in his processor of not just that day's battle, but of two previous battle's that had taken the lives of Radar and Buster Witwicky respectfully.
Primus. Prowl would never be able to scrub his former charge's last moments from his databanks. The memory recall came on him with a prejudiced grudge and locked the seasoned tactician in place with a thousand-yard stare.
\\\
{Sorry Prowl,} the elder Witwicky brother's voice had crackled over his comm-link measured and calm, {but I'll have to take a rain check on our rematch of Go.}
With enemy fire incoming, Prowl spun and dived behind cover, his back slamming hard against his chosen fortification as Decepticon laser fire and bullet's peppered his location. Rock chips flew as dangerous as bullets but his chosen boulder shouldered the abuse. In a brief moment of respite, Prowl's optical ridges collapsed together. Radar' s remark made zero sense in any context unless Prowl took into account...
He made the time to respond back to his wayward charge and cut straight to the point. "Are you pinned down, Radar?"
{Nothing I haven't done of my own machinations. Although, I have discovered I have made some miscalculations.}
Prowl felt his muscle cables in his midsection clench. "You don't make miscalculations, Radar." A dry laugh echoed over his comm-link. Prowl's door panels flared upwards, scrapping along the boulder uncomfortably until they retained a sharp ninety-degree angle. "Where are you? Give me your coordinates and I'll-"
{Prowl, I need you to do me a favor.}
Suddenly, Prowl felt like the ground was giving out beneath his very feet. The whole battle dulled and became mute around him. Cold numbness settled like a veil over Prowl. He knew what this was. It was far from the first time he had been present for a death call. Just- not Radar. How-?
Prowl forgot how to speak and Radar did not even notice.
{Look after my daughter for me, will you?}
"Radar," somehow someway Prowl had found the power to plead with his charge, "tell me what's happened. Between the two of us we can pool our processors together and-"
{Prowl.} The tactician fell silent at the calm finality in Radar's tone. Whatever had happened after they were separated, whatever was going to happen, Radar was already at peace with his decision. {One more thing. Tell Prime, I'm sorry. He'll know what for.}
The fast-paced battle came to a grinding halt when the massive explosion went off, taking with it the Decepticon's most recent end goal out of play permanently.
And Radar Witwicky with it.
Time forgot Prowl.
It was Optimus Prime and Jazz that found him after the battle. Unmoving. Shell-shocked. Standing in the open and staring at a blue sky where the explosion had colored it long before. Between Jazz's gentle prodding and Prime's direction, they somehow managed to get him moving.
/
The memories did not stop coming. Fast paced snippets of the proceeding months and years streaked through Prowl's central processor.
After Radar's death, Prowl had stood apart from the Witwicky family and observed from a cold distance as the family fell apart and had to figure out how to pick up the pieces and keep going. The act was a familiar one to Prowl. He had observed the same play with different actors over the course of five million years. The war had wrought such death upon their species that no one spoke about affairs of affection. Ceremonies for conjunx endurea were performed in secret, if at all. Even something as beign as a friend, so vital a thing for social sanity, was a risk for pain.
Prowl had thought he had become numb to such things eons before but Radar had been a rude reminder. One that Prowl dared not to repeat. He did not look after Alicean. He withdrew far, far away.
When Alice had come seeking him with casual chatter and small wounded smiles, asking that they continue the war games that the three of them had always partook in, Prowl had turned her down. Said no. No more war games. No more rounds of Go or any other of the games they had played. The loss had shook him. The attempt at friendship scared him. Prowl was acutely aware of how similiar Radar and he had been and Prowl did not need the fragile girl placing him on a pedestal same as her father. Oddly, her unspoken sentiments, likely subconciously to do just that made him feel honored, and that made him feel dirty.
Prowl did not like the sensation.
By the time Alicean had became Phage, it had been years since he had had to worry about such matters. Where he should have been pleased with the distance in their friendship he found that he missed the lost connection instead.
All the memories ran their inevitable course on a collision to the present. Loosing Phage to Megatron had hurt as badly as if he had just lost Radar all over again. All because he realized he had failed in one monumental way, Radar had asked him to look out for her and he had discarded the dead man's wish.
No, Prowl thought savagely, no!
Stall the inevitable slip. Redirect his thoughts. This was not a time to grieve or to reflect. How did Bumblebee deal with Buster's death?, Prowl thought frantically as he internally struggled with the sudden raw emotion of grief and guilt in turn that Optimus's termination was bringing up and so many unwanted emotions and thoughts.
Prowl frowned, gritting his denta behind sealed lips. Deliberately, he tore his optics away from Prime's corpse and scanned the Medbay.
Termination had come to mean so little to the Autobots in the last sixteen Earth years, but human death however was so...final. Radar wasn't coming back. Neither was Buster. But they would get Optimus Prime back. One way or another. They just needed the Matrix. Just...a small angry and jealous part of Prowl could not understand how the Matrix with all its potential could not heal or revive organic life.
Prowl shook his head to rattle loose the emotional tendrils that would tear him down. It was useless pondering. There had not been a body to recover for Radar. Just smoldering ash and ruin and a victory for the Autobots that felt so hollow.
He just needed to organize his own thoughts in priority of importance. Once such thought, why had Ratchet not moved Prime's body to a more private location yet?
Another question for thought, where was Ratchet?
Stall. Redirect. Organize.
"Me Grimlock say Autobots are weak. Tired of saving Autobot afts from Megatron. If Grimlock were in charge, Autobots would not be weak. Would be strong!"
At the moment of the leader of the Dinobots gruff voice, Prowl swore he felt a processor ache coming on. His door panels twitched skyward at Grimlock's proposal while Prowl's patience shortened dramatically. Of all the things he had to worry about, a power play should not be one of them.
"There isn't an open ballot Grimlock so fall back in line." snipped Prowl as he turned to address the brute. As predicted, Grimlock had the whole of the Dinobots behind him. Their behavior tipped more in favor of gang behavior than the friendlier buddy system that the Aerialbots put out when they traversed the halls of the Ark in their group.
At their forefront, Grimlock stared down on Prowl in his beast mode, his large tyrannosaurus head turned so his predator optic could take him in. The brute intimidation factor was not lost on the tactician as he stood in the Dinobot leader's shadow.
"Me Grimlock not ask for ballot. Me Grimlock say Autobots stronger if I were in charge. Optimus Prime dead. So you leader Prowl. Me Grimlock challenge you."
The Medbay had been filled with low key conversations but all of that ground to a halt. The new atmosphere was one of abated breath, all optics zeroing in on Prowl and the Dinobots. He could feel them. Feel the weight and silent judgments, calculations...
"I'm not the leader."
"You think me Grimlock stupid?" Prowl had to bit back on his answer. The question was rhetoric, though Prowl was one-hundred-percent certain that Grimlock did not know the meaning of the word. "Everyone reporting to you and taking orders from you. Me Grimlock say you in charge and want challenge."
The hard neutral features that pinned to Prowl's face would have been an immediate warning to any of the Autobots from Cybertron to back away, but the Dinobots, as part of the newer generation on Earth, had no experience to heed. Not that Prowl thought for one second that the brute would in any capacity if he had the experience. "I am in charge only while our new esteemed Commander Jazz is out."
Grimlock reared back, his small T-rex fingers clicking together. "Jazz leader?"
"Yes." To all within audio range, the hard edged tone of Prowl's one-word response was backed by a rev of his engine. With his flaring door panels and tense frame, the tactician came off as a revving large cat.
"Since when?" Grimlock's tone came out more of a whine than any sort of demand.
"Jazz has always been second in command."
"All Jazz do is talk and watch Earth television and listen to music at stupid volume!"
Prowl picked up on a small little voice from a medberth somewhere behind him, and identified with one-hundred-percent accuracy that the voice belonged to a baffled Sparkplug. "I thought he was communications officer."
"No." Whispered a voice that sounded suspiciously like Wheeljack. "Officially Jazz is our saboteur."
"Wait, what?" Sparkplug shot back, confounded by the news.
"Jazz," Prowl said sternly in a voice for everyone to hear, "as most of us are aware, has been on restricted duty pre-Ark launch. Given recent events, he's had to assume his full range of responsibilities in addition to those of Commanding officer."
Prowl did not see it, but Sparkplug shot Wheeljack a thoroughly baffled look and the resident Autobot mad-scientist just motioned to Sparkplug to shush.
"Me Swoop like Jazz."
Grimlock's large head swung around and growled at the pterosuar. Despite the fact that Swoop was in his bipedal form and stood near Grimlock's height while he was in his beast mode, the aerial flier still buckled and cowered under the threat of Grimlock's intimidating sword long denta that could render Brawn's metal hide to shreds. Poor Swoop backed up into Snarl and Sludge. Between the two of those Dinobots the entrance to the Medbay was blocked and Swoop was effectively cornered. In the quick sequence of events, Prowl observed, studied, and logged away the inner Dinobot power dynamics as Swoop immediately recanted his opinion and said, "Me sorry, Grimlock."
Prowl's pointer finger flexed and tapped along the edge of the datapad in hand with the insistence of any nervous twitch. Something had to be done about the Dinobots. Despite their military benefit as a last ditch deterrent to Decepticon victories, the toxic inner group workings, coupled with their brutish nature and disobedience to Optimus Prime undercut their usefulness. Optimus would not do anything with them beyond restricting their movements, but maybe he could convince Jazz-
Prowl stalled and placed the budding idea on the back burner. Having decided that there would be no further outbursts from Swoop that Grimlock would disagree with, the Dinobot leader swept his predator's optic over Prowl. "Where Jazz? Me Grimlock crush lazy Autobot."
A bark of laughter shot off from somewhere in the Medbay. Prowl calculated with a ninety-two-percent probability that it was Cliffjumper. The other eight-percent was reserved for Gears.
"I would not call Jazz lazy. Our commander is currently leading the extraction team to retrieve Phage and the Matrix from the Decepticon base. I understand your confusion, Grimlock. You and your team were guarding the front door from any additional Decepticon attacks when this was all discussed prior."
"No Decepticons around to fight, except Constructicons that Autobots dragged into brig. Waste of Dinobots' time."
Prowl stiffened. "Our defense is hardly a waste of time when more than half of us are damaged!"
"As Grimlock say, Autobots weak. Made of weak metal."
Audible grumblings started up across the Medbay. Prowl did not have to look around to know that his fellow veterans and Autobot Elite Guard were getting pissy. In all likeliness a melee would break out between the Autobots and the Dinobots damaged or not unless Prowl did something fast.
"Weak metal my aft!" the minibot Brawn raged from somewhere in the Medbay.
Ironhide's hot retort cut above the rest of the crew's outrage. "Let me show those Dinobots what's for. Damn younger generation-"
If Grimlock heard Ironhide, he ignored him completely as he spoke out of turn. "What Jazz do to Decepticons? Talk Megatron to death? Be nice and ask for Phage back? Suggest movie list in exchange for Matrix? Force need be taken. Megatron fear Dinobots. No fear Jazz."
Prowl's lips formed a fine pressed line. "Force isn't the only military response. Jazz has this covered."
"Me Grimlock say he already dead. Can't fight Jazz. So fight you."
"You can't. I'm not in charge. You'll have to wait until Jazz returns."
Grimlock made an unintelligent noise, no great novelty to Prowl there, that could not decide if it wanted to be an irritable hum or a long rumbling growl. "Jazz already dead."
"I'll believe that when Megatron calls to gloat."
Grimlock took a great length of time to consider this possibility and finally seemed to find that he liked the compromise. The Dinobot leader nodded his great large head. "Fine then. Me Grimlock can wait. When Megatron tells stupid Prowl that Jazz dead, then me Grimlock challenge Prowl."
Air hissed from Prowl's vents. In that very moment the Autobot's tactician came off as one large angry Earth cat.
Arguing with Grimlock further over the topic was pointless, Prowl knew, so he did not waste his valuable and precious time trying to quote Autobot code or explain social structure. The Dinobot's operated as if they were in the midst of the Cybertronian Dark Age. That concept alone was ridiculous. If Grimlock seriously intended to break chain of command and cause a mutiny, Prowl was going to have to have words with the Autobot Core Elite. Things could and would get so much worse very fast if they did not take precaution soon to deal with the Dinobots.
The problem was, how could they deal with them? While in their beast mode Grimlock himself could shrug off a blast from Megatron's fusion cannon and it was in their alt modes that the Dinobots most preferred to remain in. Out of habit, Prowl spared the necessary processor capability to run a plethora of battle simulations to the outcome of a battle between the Autobot Core Elite versus the Dinobots. Gradually, his face grew long and tired. There was only a three-percent chance at the Elite's success. Prowl's wing panels twitched and flared upwards, reflecting his tension and hyperactive alertness. The extraction team had to succeed. Jazz had to succeed.
As Prowl watched Grimlock turn and leave the Medbay with the Dinobots shuffling in line behind him, stomping off to only Primus knew where, Prowl thought over his newest mantra.
Stall. Redirect. Organize.
Ratchet.
Gradually, lips quirking into a frown of distaste after the Dinobots, Prowl turned away from the Medbay entrance and scanned the large vicinity. Where was-
Ah!
There he was, inspecting the progress of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's regenerative recovery. Without further hesitation Prowl headed over to give the stressed doctor the good news about the requisitions order.