Author's Notes: I've been in the middle of a big project for a client, but I needed to write to relax my nerves so I wrote this chapter. Yay! Anyway, I've been thinking of having a set day of the week to schedule posting updates to my fics. Maybe every Friday or Saturday. What do you guys think? Should I try to get organized? The up side is it could mean more than one fic gets updated in a day. Downside is no updates for the entire week if I can't find time to write. Let me know what you think. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing this chapter of "Hook's Apprentice" :)


Chapter 5

What It's Worth

Breakdown sat nervously at the Stunticons' table in the rec room while three of his four brothers argued among themselves. He just tried to drink his cube and forget everyone that was around him. He had to look down at the purple liquid, concentrate, lest he look up and see anyone else around him.

There! He saw that! The Coneheads just looked at him, he knows they did! Breakdown lifted the cube to his helm and looks through the empty part of the glass at the Coneheads to see if they were indeed staring at him. They were talking and laughing like everything was fine. Even Dirge was laughing for a change. They didn't see him see them, so they must not be out for his lifeless spark.

Breakdown sips the energon after holding the cube for several uncomfortable minutes, but he isn't really in the mood to refuel anymore. After working in the medbay for two weeks straight and sneaking around behind Motormaster's back the entire time, Hook had finally told the young mech that he had to tell Motormaster the truth about where he was going.

"Megatron gave the order, so Motormaster cannot terminate you for it," Hook had said at the time.

Breakdown wasn't so sure. Hook didn't know Motormaster. Motormaster felt that there was only one way to solve a problem, and that was with his fists and his energy sword. Still, if Breakdown didn't tell him he would have to look over his shoulder forever. Then again, he would probably do that anyway.

"After refueling we're goin' to the training room!" Motormaster shouted over the protests of Wildrider and Drag Strip, "You sacks of scrap are gonna get into shape!"

"But we're already a shape. Square!" Wildrider cackled at his own joke.

Motormaster answered that by punching Wildrider in the face and knocking him off his chair, which made Breakdown wince as he pictured that happening to him. He was finally feeling a sense of pride for working with Hook as an apprentice. For once he had a reason to get up in the morning. For once he was doing something worthwhile. He didn't want Motormaster to take that away from him.

"Any more complaints?" Motormaster asked threateningly as his optics stared down Drag Strip, Dead End, and Breakdown.

"N-No, sir!" Drag Strip stammered.

"What are we working on, then?" Dead End asked rationally rather than cave in to the fear his brothers felt.

"We're gonna work on stoppin' a charge," Motormaster declared proudly, "We're heavy hitters, but we need to work on keepin' our balance when an Autobot comes chargin' at us. Apparently Wildrider needs the first lesson."

"Very funny, scrap face," Wildrider grumbled as he rubbed his sore nose cone, "Anybody wanna help me pull my nose cone back out? I think it's hiding in there."

"Actually, your self repairs will take care of that on their own," Breakdown told him casually.

"Hah, like you know anything about it, bolt brain," Motormaster scoffed at Breakdown, "Remember yesterday when you asked Dead End if you could borrow his Surelock's Homes book?"

Motormaster, Wildrider, and Drag Strip then started laughing at Breakdown's expense while Breakdown silently fumed; unwilling to say anything to get into a fight despite how cruel Motormaster's words were.

"I don't see why it's so funny," Breakdown finally grumbled when his brothers stopped laughing, "So what if I thought his name was Surelock?"

"Well to be fair," Dead End said in Breakdown's defense, "Sherlock Holmes is a fairly stupid name, even for a human."

Motormaster took another huge swig of his energon and then slammed the cube down like a gavel. The sudden action made Breakdown flinch. It always unnerved Breakdown how every move Motormaster made seemed to be both a show of strength and a burst of anger. When Motormaster turned to regard Breakdown again, the blue much cowered involuntarily.

"What're you lookin' at, frag head?" Motormaster growled at Breakdown's wide eyed stare, "Something to say?"

Breakdown shook his helm no, but even as he did he said "Megatron ordered me to work with Hook for a while."

"Hook?" Motormaster asked with disdain, "You being reformatted as a Constructicon? Huh?"

"No, sir!" Breakdown replied too loudly, and he was sure somebody must be staring at him by now.

"Too bad," Motormaster replied, surprising Breakdown, "If they were offering to trade I would've taken Bonecrusher for you."

Part of Breakdown felt hurt by that remark, but he pushed that part down in favor of the part that still needed to justify himself before his gestalt leader.

"No Motormaster, I'm still a Stunticon," Breakdown explained, "But I'm working part time in the medbay with Hook. I'm in training to become a medic just like him. Don't worry though, I'll still always show up for training and drills with you guys. You're still my top priararity."

"Uh huh," Motormaster replied emotionlessly, and Breakdown worried about what that meant, "So, you think you have the processing power to be a medic? Hah! You have all the coordination of a set of flat tires, the processor of an analogue watch, and servos as steady as a rocking chair on the edge of a cliff! Hook must be glitched to think you'd be a good medic. You're barely good at being alive!"

Motormaster smirked in smug satisfaction, Wildrider laughed, Drag Strip shook his helm in disappointment in Breakdown's career choice, and Dead End drank his cube and ignored everyone. Breakdown deflated in his chair and timidly went back to drinking his cube of energon. Maybe Motormaster was right. Maybe he was worthless.


Later that day, after a painful set of training exercises, Breakdown arrived in the medbay to see every berth was full and Hook was frantically running around checking on patients. Even Mixmaster had showed up to mix medicines and painkillers, but it was clear Hook was way understaffed.

"Boss!" Breakdown exclaimed in shock, "What happened?"

"Failed raid," Hook explained hurriedly without slowing down, "I need painkillers now! Mixmaster, where are my pills!?"

"Hang-hang-hang on a klik!" Mixmaster barked irritably.

"Holy pit," Breakdown gasped softly, "Megatron has a helm wound!"

"I know, and he's still conscious," Hook griped as he welded Thundercracker's wing, "I need those pills now!"

"Alright, I'm co-coming!" Mixmaster raced across the medbay to hand Hook the freshly cooked medicine.

"Breakdown, administer this to Megatron," Hook ordered.

"Me!?" Breakdown yelped, "But I'll screw up! Megatron will die, and if he does live he'll offline me!"

"That was an order, Breakdown!" Hook shouted irately, far too overworked to worry about his apprentice's feelings, "Go!"

Breakdown nearly tripped over his own pedes trying to get away from the screaming medic. He knew Hook needed him, but he still didn't feel worthy. Motormaster's words rung in Breakdown's ears like a death knell. He was going to do something wrong. He was going to be punished. He was going to disappoint Hook. Hook would never forgive him. Megatron would die. The Autobots would win. They would throw him in a cage and gawk at him and-

He let out a feral cry to make his thoughts shut up and leave him alone, but the place was so chaotic that no one noticed his mental...breakdown. Oh, that was why Vector Sigma named him that.

Pushing everything else away, he walked over to Megatron's berth. The old warlord was groaning in agony and clawing the sides of the berth he was laying on. His helm had been cracked open by something. Judging by the burn marks along the wiring and the indiscernible pattern of the damage, Breakdown would guess it was an explosion.

Just as Breakdown was about to offer the pills to Megatron, the Decepticon leader turned his helm Breakdown's way, and those piercing red optics regarded him with a hostile expression. Breakdown froze in his tracks, unable to look away from the frightening mech that was staring back at him. Breakdown's spark pulsed wildly in his chassis, and fear gripped him like a vice.

"Well?" Megatron rasped, aggressive despite how weak he was at the moment, "What do you want from me?"

"I...uh..." Breakdown stuttered and stalled as he tried to find his vocalizer, "Pills! I came to give you pills! From Mixmaster! Sir!"

Megatron growled in displeasure but then held out his servo for the proffered pills. Breakdown handed them to Megatron without taking his optics off the warlord's battered and angry face plate.

Megatron gulped down his pills, and Breakdown turned to walk away. Once he was away from the situation, Breakdown let out a huge sigh of relief he didn't know he'd been holding in. Well, that didn't go so badly. He just hoped Mixmaster's stupid pills didn't kill Megatron or something. Now that he thought about it, it was a good thing Mixmaster wasn't in line for Decepticon leadership. Mixmaster's drug access and Starscream's temperament would be a deadly combination.

"Breakdown!" Hook hollered demandingly, letting Breakdown know his time wasn't up yet, "Astrotrain needs reconstruction surgery. Get to it."

"Me? But I'm not ready!" Breakdown protested.

"It's a simple procedure. You can handle it," Hook replied more calmly than a moment ago, "However, it must be done. I have more serious cases to work on, but Astrotrain is our best transport ship. We need him on active duty as quickly as possible. Now get to it, rookie!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Breakdown replied with more surety than he felt, and he left Hook's side to search for Astrotrain.

It took a few moments to locate Astrotrain's berth amid the overflowing triage unit. When Breakdown saw what he was dealing with, he had to hold back a moan of awkward discomfort. Astrotrain had apparently skidded to a stop in his robot mode, and now he needed new plating for the back of his legs as well as his aft.

"Why does the universe hate me?" Breakdown muttered to himself as he inched closer to where the supply of emergency protoform armor was kept, "We'll be lucky if we even have anything for a triple changer with all the supplies being used today. Ugh! I can't believe I have to change Astrotrain's aft! This is somehow worse than staring down Megatron. Oh pit, he's still conscious! I have to repair a conscious Astrotrain's aft!"

Breakdown keened in misery as he searched cabinets for the necessary sheets of armor plating he would need. Fortunately he happened to find some that was custom made for Astrotrain. Apparently Megatron considered Astrotrain a valuable soldier and therefore kept his supplies on hand. Or maybe Astrotrain just didn't get injured very often. Breakdown wasn't sure.

He gathered the tools he would need and then set to work on the task. He recalled his medical journals as well as welding pieces of plating back on Lucille. He remembered from the Skywarp incident that patients are supposed to be sedated before being welded on, so he called Mixmaster so he could get some pain meds. The only medication left was some liquid stuff that would leave Astrotrain high as a kite but not put him into recharge, so Breakdown accepted it begrudgingly. Dealing with a loopy triple changer was not Breakdown's idea of a good time.

Once the meds took effect Astrotrain kept asking all sorts of inane questions that Breakdown did his best to ignore. Breakdown started with the legs since it was the largest (and least embarrassing) damaged area. He reconnected any stray wires that had come undone, but the wire damage was surprisingly minimal and no energon lines had been severed. That was fortunate at least. Breakdown would then use body glue and hot solder to attach the plating. He couldn't remember which was more effective so he used both.

Once that was done it was time for the part Breakdown had been dreading. The skid plate. Breakdown gulped and then took out a cutting tool to carve the proper shape of the...area. Breakdown had to measure it a few times before he could remember how exactly to cut it, which was all sorts of cringe-inducing since he was holding a measuring gauge to Astrotrain's uncovered aft. Yes, it was medical. Yes, it was necessary. No, that didn't help Breakdown's feelings on the matter at all.

Once Breakdown was satisfied that the plate was perfect he started with the glue once again. Then he soldered the piece and shifted it into place.

"What'cha doin?" Astrotrain asked drunkenly.

Breakdown winced but didn't answer. What he was doing was positioning Astrotrain's aft so no wires would stick out. Now, he had to make sure the joints in the legs would still work properly now that everything was in place.

"Astrotrain, I need you to stand up," Breakdown ordered gently.

"Uh...okay," Astrotrain replied after taking a few kliks to process what was said.

Astrotrain shakily staggered off the berth and held onto the edge for support. He was drugged, but otherwise seemed to be standing alright.

"Okay, now bend your knees," Breakdown ordered.

"Whee!" Astrotrain squealed as he bent his knees up and down.

"Great. That seems to be in order," Breakdown nodded approvingly, "Now bend your back."

"No way!" Astrotrain slurred, "You already copped a feel! I'm not lettin' you do it again! You didn't even buy me a drink!"

At that a few patients turned to see who Astrotrain was talking to. If Breakdown's face wasn't already red that was probably the color it would've turned.

"Yeah, uh...you're fine!" Breakdown abruptly shouted and then ran to the other side of the medbay.

Breakdown heaved a few calming intakes and tried to get his processor to work again. Maybe Motormaster was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this job.


It took a couple joors to get everyone stabilized. There were still a few mechs in the medbay recuperating from their latest battle with the Autobots, but it was definitely quieter than when Breakdown first came in. Hook was wiping off counters and Mixmaster was washing out his cement drum. Breakdown put away some of the tools he had used throughout the day and tried not to disturb his superiors. After all, they had been pushed to the limit.

"Hook..." That voice was Megatron's, as he had to stay behind while his helm was healing, "The raid..."

"You'll get those cursed Autobot next time, my liege," Hook assured his patient.

"No, the raid...we didn't get any energon," Megatron told him through rasping breaths, "Not even a single cube. That is the third time in a row we have been thwarted. I have to order you to stop producing medical grade energon for the next three cycles."

"Three cycles?" Hook asked in disbelief, "But we're stretched thin enough as it is. If we don't have med grade then if someone gets injured they may bleed out! We can't afford raids if we don't have energon!"

"Well we can't waste energon until we have a successful raid," Megatron argued, "I don't order this lightly, Hook. I know we need the fuel. As it is I'll have to institute a rationing policy. We may even have to send a few soldiers back to Cybertron."

"But there's no fuel there either!" Hook objected, in a state of near panic.

"Do not raise your voice to me, Constructicon," Megatron rumbled dangerously, and Hook bowed his helm in submission, "It is decided. One cube a day for each soldier until our supply increases enough to lift the edict. Soundwave and Starscream will be here in a few breems. We will have to discuss the situation in here."

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Hook replies smoothly, though the look in his optics is one of subdued apprehension, "I'll see myself out. Come, Breakdown. Come, Mixmaster. Our leader requires privacy."

Mixmaster followed Hook out, and Breakdown followed as well after a moment of hesitation. The stiffness in Hook's stride told Breakdown that something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what to say. He never realized how much their faction relied on the raids to have enough fuel to eat.

"Sir?" Breakdown called out to Hook uncertainly, "Are we going to be okay?"

"Of course," Hook replies without hesitation, though Breakdown can hear the clipped tone he is using, "Also, you did good for your first day of actual surgeries. You weren't ready yet, but I couldn't afford to wait for you to get any better. Good job, apprentice. You have no idea what your skills are worth to me."

"Skills? Me?" Breakdown asked uncomprehendingly, "But I'm a loser. I get scared all the time, and I'm clumsy, and I don't talk so good. You could train anyone to do my job."

What happened next Breakdown didn't expect. Hook slapped Breakdown hard across the face, and the Stunticon stepped back in wide eyed fear of a beating from the older mech.

"Are you saying anyone could do my job?" Hook asked venomously, and Breakdown shook his head timidly, "Don't you ever say my skills are worthless! Being a medic is one of the most difficult, demanding, thankless jobs in the Decepticon army! Now, can anyone do my job?"

"No, sir!" Breakdown practically shrieked in fear of retaliation.

"Exactly. That also means not everyone can do your job, because your job is my job," Hook explained heatedly, "Don't you ever forget that, rookie."

"Yes, sir. No, sir. I, uh...thank you, sir," Breakdown's words wound down once he realized what Hook was saying about him, "You, uh...you don't think I'm a loser, boss?"

"Obviously not," Hook replied gruffly, "I chose you over your brothers and everyone else on this ship, didn't I?"

"You uh...you did," Breakdown breathed with dawning realization, "You did! You chose me! You wanted me! I just performed surgery and nobody died! You taught me how to do that and I remembered! That's amazing, sir! I'm gonna be a medic!"