Author's Notes: Well, it's been a long time since I updated this fic, but at this point I doubt you're surprised. I just want to shout out kawaiipika who helped inspire me to write some more in this particular story. Thank you, one and all, who read my stories and encourage me to keep writing :)
Chapter 9
Feed Me
First Aid felt a pain in his leg as he slowly onlined. His optics opened, only to be confronted by a purple metal ceiling. Where was he? That was when everything started to sink in. Breakdown had double-crossed him. He was on board the Nemesis; a prisoner of the Decepticons. Who knew what kind of evil experiments or torture they had in mind for him?
Speaking of torture, First Aid suddenly felt a sharp pain in his leg again, and he sat up and yelped! He saw that a Stunticon, the gray one, was poking at a mesh bandage on his leg. Oh, right. Breakdown had shot him.
"Hahahaha!" The Stunticon laughed raucously, "You sound funny! Lemme try that again!"
"No! Stop touching me!" First Aid snapped as he held back the Stunticon's poking finger, "Where am I?"
"You're on the couch," The Stunticon unhelpfully replied.
"Okay, but what am I doing here? Who are you?" First Aid asked somewhat impatiently.
"I dunno. I just found you here," The Stunticon shrugged, "Uh, what was the second question?"
"What is your designation?" First Aid asked slowly, feeling like he was getting nowhere with his captor.
"Wildrider. Who are you and what are you doing on our couch?"
"You didn't know I was coming?" First Aid asked, and then suddenly an idea formed, "Um, I came here to deliver some medical supplies, and I've already done that. So, I need to go home now. Which way is the exit?"
"Ain't you an Autobot?" Wildrider asked suspiciously, "And a fire truck? How are you supposed to get out when you can't fly or swim?"
"I am not a fire truck," First Aid corrected, "I am an ambulance, a medical vehicle. I really do have somewhere else to be, so if you would kindly let me out I will go now."
"Who won the World Series?" Wildrider suddenly asked.
"Um…excuse me?" First Aid asked in confusion.
"In movies, friendly people always know who won the World Series. So, if you're friendly you'll know too. So, who was it?" Wildrider pressed.
"Um...the world?" First Aid feebly guessed.
"Okay, you check out," Wildrider nodded sharply, "Let's get you outta here!"
First Aid smiled, relieved that something was finally going his way. His gestalt brothers had often told him that the Stunticons were crazy and unpredictable, but this topped every expectation he had. First Breakdown asked for help, then double-crossed him, and then left him in the care of a lunatic that couldn't tell friend from foe from furniture. If nothing else, it made his brothers Blades, Streetwise, Groove, and Hot Spot look normal by comparison.
Breakdown helped Hook and Scrapper apply the anti-rust gel to Scavenger's frame. It was still a little embarrassing for Breakdown to touch the patient's bodies when applying ointments and such, but it was easier with Scavenger being offline and not staring at him while he worked. Breakdown wondered if he would ever get over his fear of unwavering optics, but pushed the stray thought aside and continued with his work.
He hoped that none of his brothers would enter the Stunticons common area while he was gone. He had left First Aid on the couch when he was called for duty, but felt a little more at ease when he realized all of his brothers had late shifts that night. If he could get Swindle to broker the hostage exchange they might be able to get Dead End back as well as some much needed energon. Then the famine would end and they could go back to raiding power plants at full strength.
"How long will it take this stuff to work?" Breakdown asked the others.
"A few joors," Hook replied, "I suppose in earth time anywhere from one to three days."
"How long is a joor anyway?" Breakdown asked, "I hear mechs use that word all the time, but I don't know what that means."
"Frag, you are such a sparkling," Scrapper snorted, "A joor is 6 earth hours. You really should learn to tell Cybertronian time. Someday we're gonna take back our planet, and then you'll live there instead of on this rotting mud ball of a planet."
"But I like earth," Breakdown commented, "Well, at least until all the starving happened. Did the Autobots take over all the power plants on Cybertron too?"
"We didn't need electrical plants on Cybertron, at least not for the same purpose as we need the humans' plants for," Hook explained, "Cybertron had natural deposits of energon crystals that could be refined into much more energon than we get here on this planet."
"Wait, so Cybertron has more food?" Breakdown asked in confusion, "Then why do we need earth's fuel?"
"Because the war destroyed most of our natural energon," Hook told him, "We would destroy the Autobots' fuel supplies, and then they in turn would steal ours to compensate, leaving us to starve. We would pay them in kind by destroying what they stole from us, and so on and so forth until there was nothing left. If they just hadn't been so stubborn this never would have happened."
"But…what you just said kind of makes it sound like it was our fault," Breakdown pointed out, "I mean, couldn't we have just made peace with them and got some of our fuel back?"
"Never!" Scrapper snapped angrily, "Making peace with the Autobots would have meant accepting their Prime as our ruler! Megatron holds the rightful claim to Cybertron. The Autobots forfeited their right to our world when they left the empties to die in the streets, and used our most vulnerable population for target practice and blood sport! Sentinel Prime treated our people like slag, and they deserved every raid, every attack, and every causality we ever inflicted on them!"
"Ow, not so loud…" A faint voice whimpered.
Scavenger had just come online, though his body was still too fragile to move more than a few microns. Hook wiped away some of the crusted energon from around his mouth components, and Scrapper raised the bars on his berth so he wouldn't fall off the edge.
"Scavenger, how are you feeling?" Hook asked.
"I…can't transform," Scavenger reported, "I feel weird. Tingly all over."
"That's the anti-rust cream working its way through your system," Hook explained, "Along with the topical cream I also had to mix an internal medicine using an extract of the cream and some water."
"Water?" Scavenger asked distastefully, "You're supposed to mix it with energon."
"There isn't enough energon for that," Hook replied firmly, "We're still in the middle of a famine. We have water, so I used water. Your system will adjust."
"Drinking water…who ever…heard of something so ridiculous?" Scavenger asked in disdain.
"He'll be fine," Hook told Breakdown, "Scrapper and I can handle this. You should go to your quarters and get some rest while you still can. Besides, you have a prisoner to guard."
"I ain't worried about that," Breakdown shrugged, "Where's he gonna go?"
"Where are we going?" First Aid asked Wildrider, "We've been walking down these corridors for over twenty minutes. Are you just trying to wear me out?"
"Why would I do that?" Wildrider asked, "You've got enough problems tryin' to get to the surface without bein' able to fly or swim."
The duo continued to walk through corridor after corridor. Everything looked identical to First Aid, so it was easy to get lost. First Aid was surprised they hadn't run into anyone else in all this time, and was acutely aware that Wildrider could be leading him into a trap. He didn't have many other options however. He had no way of knowing how to escape without help, and he didn't want to know what the Decepticons were planning to do with him. He just hoped that Wildrider really was just insane rather than toying with First Aid's processor.
"Hey, Autobot?" Wildrider piped up after a minute, "Do you have any energon? I really need some energon."
"I only have medical grade. Sorry."
"Give it to me," Wildrider ordered.
"I can't. It's not edible," First Aid tried to explain, "Medical grade can only go into the fuel lines through a needle."
"There are needles in the medbay," Wildrider pointed out, "You can do it in there."
"Med grade is only for sick and injured patients," First Aid protested, "You are neither sick nor injured."
"Fine! Then let me drink it!" Wildrider demanded, "I'm gettin' that energon if I have to rip out your subspace and your head!"
First Aid was a little taken aback by the sudden change in attitude. Wildrider had gone from nonchalant and helpful to a pure vessel of rage in a matter of seconds. First Aid knew med grade was potentially dangerous to a healthy mech with a full tank, but what was he to do? Wildrider looked ready to kill him!
"Alright, alright. Take me to the medbay. I'll give you the energon there," First Aid relented.
"Good," Wildrider nodded roughly, "You shouldn't hoard energon. We're all friends, right?"
"Um, right," First Aid smiled awkwardly, trying to keep from angering the dangerous killing machine, "We're all friends."
Wildrider quickly turned and started walking the other way, while First Aid kept walking the same direction in hopes that Wildrider wouldn't notice. Surprisingly this casual plan worked, and Wildrider kept right on walking. First Aid felt relief that he could escape on his own now, but also worried that he wouldn't be able to find the exit without getting caught.
Sneaking around corridors and hiding in shadows, First Aid's spark thrummed in his chassis. With every step he worried this would be the one that would get him caught. Was that loose tile a booby trap? Was that the sound of Megatron's pede steps? Did Wildrider realize he had been tricked? Where was the exit door?
A smell of saltwater and metal permeated the air. Every sound was a cause for alarm in the young Autobot. He had just wanted to help an injured mech, so why did Breakdown betray him this way? Oh, right. He was a Decepticon. Deception was in their very name.
When First Aid saw a mech striding down the hallway, he ducked into the first room he could. As it turned out, it was Blitzwing's crew quarters. He knew, because Blitzwing was laying on the floor in a dazed state looking up at the ceiling.
"Who's there?" Blitzwing slurred.
First Aid was nervous, but surprised Blitzwing didn't immediately recognize him. The mech sounded overcharged, but there was no smell of high grade in the air. Could First Aid really fool this Decepticon like he had Wildrider? That seemed unlikely.
"I said who's there!" Blitzwing hollered irately, "Don't make me online my optical sensors!"
"But…your optics are online," First Aid noted.
"Online, but disconnected," Blitzwing smirked, "It's brilliant. This way I can online them in an instant if I need them, but I don't waste the energon it takes to power them all the time."
"The amount of energy saved is so minuscule though," First Aid said in confusion, "Why would you bother?"
"Heh, I can tell from your voice you're one of the younger ones. Probably a Stunticon or something," Blitzwing chuckled listlessly, "You won't last another orn if you don't start conserving your energon. Wars are won and lost by strategy, kid. For now I'd say just go to your room and shut off your optics. That way when the next raid comes you'll be ready."
"Um…okay," First Aid replied awkwardly.
He exited the room, Blitzwing none the wiser. First Aid couldn't believe he actually got away with that. Decepticon soldiers were so bloodthirsty and cruel on the battlefield, always ready to kill any innocent humans that got in their way. First Aid always pictured their training sessions as intense and their planning as devilishly intricate. To think they spent their free time laying around doing nothing, and probably couldn't differentiate an Autobot from their own exhaust port…well, it shattered First Aid's worldview to say the least.
As First Aid walked down the hallway in search of the exit, his arm was suddenly grabbed by a pair of strong and forceful servos!
"Ah!" First Aid yelped.
"There you are!" Wildrider exclaimed, "You shouldn't run off like that, Autobot. You'll get lost. Now, get over here and give me my energon!"
First Aid was helpless to stop Wildrider as he practically dragged the unfortunate ambulance-former to the Decepticon medbay. First Aid tried to pull himself free, but Wildrider didn't even seem to notice.
When they arrived, First Aid was surprised by how messy the place looked compared to Autobot HQ's medbay. Ratchet kept everything immaculate, and while the area didn't look unsanitary it was clear the medics on board the ship didn't have a lot of time to organize their tools and cleaning rags.
"Alright Autobot, there's the needles, there's the berth, and here's my arm. Now feed me!" Wildrider demanded.
First Aid just gulped and stood in place. This situation reminded him of a scary movie he watched with the Aerialbots a few days prior called Little Shop of Horrors. Wildrider sounded just like that evil alien plant, and this room reminded him a little too much of a dentist's office. Why did he let Streetwise and the Aerialbots talk him into watching scary earth movies?
"Hey, you hear me, Autobot?" Wildrider shouted impatiently.
At this moment, Breakdown entered the room with a mop to clean up where Scavenger had been purging, and arrived just in time to see Wildrider yelling at his hostage.
"What the-? Wildrider! I thought you had the night shift!" Breakdown shouted for lack of anything more clever to say, "What are you doing here with my prisoner?"
"He's gonna give me his energon," Wildrider explained, far less concerned than Breakdown, "He says he has a cube that he'll feed me through a needle."
"That's med grade, Wildrider," Breakdown tried to explain, "You can't have that. It's for injuries only."
"Oh, well I can do that," Wildrider shrugged nonchalantly.
Wildrider then, much to First Aid's shock and horror, took a scalpel from the medical tray and sliced off his left pinky digit!
"Oh, scrap!" Breakdown cursed.
First Aid stood there in shock as Breakdown quickly grabbed a soldering pen and closed the wound before Wildrider could lose too much energon. The irony was lost on Wildrider however as he just stood there smiling and watching his brother frantically repair him.
"Well, I'm injured now," Wildrider declared happily, "Now give me some fuel!"
Breakdown sighed sharply and turned to First Aid, who worried he would be punished for indirectly inspiring Wildrider's reckless behavior.
"You heard the mech," Breakdown sighed again, "He's injured. Give him some med grade."
"But he barely lost any energon at all!" First Aid protested, "Medical grade might hurt him."
"Did I stutter?" Breakdown asked harshly, "Give him the fragging energon!"
First Aid flinched, afraid of what an angry Stunticon might do, but Breakdown just left him with Wildrider. Watching Breakdown's shoulders slump as he mopped up after a patient, it made First Aid realize how stressed he must be. His brother was being held captive by the Autobots, and he was doing the grunt work in a medbay. First Aid knew he too would be stressed under similar conditions.
Medical training told First Aid he should do no harm to his patient, and that med grade energon was not for healthy mechs. He didn't want to hurt Wildrider, even if he was scary, but he had no choice. Now two Decepticons had ordered him to do this, so he had to do it.
Wildrider layed down on the berth without hesitation and presented his arm for injection. He actually looked excited to get hooked up to an IV, something First Aid had never seen from an Autobot patient. He always heard injured mechs complain that they didn't need treatment and they were ready to go back out on the battlefield. This was especially common for Ironhide and Brawn. To see someone who relished the opportunity for medical care however…it was strange.
First Aid pulled out the deep purple cube, and Wildrider eyed it like a cat staring at a bird on the other side of a window. That intense longing gaze freaked First Aid out more, since he didn't understand the fascination with this process. Why would Wildrider cut off his own digit just to have to endure being force-fed medical grade energon?
Once everything was hooked in place, Wildrider sighed contentedly and immediately went into recharge. First Aid didn't expect that. Normally energon kept mechs awake, but this was putting Wildrider to sleep. First Aid knew there was a medical explanation for this, but he couldn't remember what it was. He read a lot of Ratchet's notes and journals, but it wasn't the same as having vorns of experience with various conditions.
"Um, excuse me, Breakdown?" First Aid called out softly, "Forgive the interruption, but for some reason the energon sent Wildrider into recharge."
"You gave him medical grade?" Hook suddenly interjected.
Breakdown nodded, but First Aid didn't turn around to acknowledge the other Decepticon. He knew Devastator's reputation from firsthand experience, and he wasn't too keen on speaking with one of its members in person. Besides, being in an enemy medbay made him nervous.
"His reaction is normal," Hook told them, "When energon is depleted below 10 percent capacity then a sudden burst of energy overwhelms the system. He'll online when his body properly absorbs enough energon."
"Below 10 percent?" First Aid found himself repeating, "But that can't be right. Below 10 percent means a mech is dying. Wildrider looks fine."
"Textbooks are always conservative," Hook scoffed dismissively, "It takes orns to die at 10 percent, though the odds of coming back from prolonged energon depletion hover around 50/50. Wildrider actually has more energy in his system than most of us since he managed to feast on another mech's fluid lines a couple days ago. By the way Autobot, disconnect the cube once it is a quarter empty. We need that energon for other mechs."
"Wait, you're all below 10 percent?" First Aid asked incredulously.
"Give or take," Hook shrugged, "I'd imagine Soundwave's symbiotes are holding up better than most of us given their small size. They don't require as much fuel to function. I'm also sure some of us are hoarding, but I doubt there's much left even of secret stashes."
Before Hook could say anything more Scavenger started coughing violently, and both Hook and Breakdown rushed to his side to help him sit up and purge. First Aid saw Scavenger, and immediately knew who the anti-rust gel was for. He looked like something out of a junkyard! Rusted, full of holes, coughing, convulsing, and with optics so dim they looked offline. Despite this appearance however, his frame was shiny with a fresh coat of gel.
"How did this happen to him?" First Aid whispered; trembling as he stepped closer.
"I told you. He drank rusty energon," Breakdown said.
"You said your people were starving, but I didn't realize it was this bad," First Aid hung his helm sorrowfully, "I thought you were just being dramatic. I've never seen anything like this before."
"I'm sure your comrades have," Hook replied coolly, "Autobots and Decepticons alike have starved to death during the war. How could we not? Cybertron is dead, after all. Now, the cube will need to be disconnected soon. If you value your life you will monitor Wildrider so he doesn't take more than he needs. Once he's at 20 percent, disconnect him."
"20!?" Frost Aid repeated incredulously, "But that's still famine levels! He needs at least 45 percent to function normally."
"He won't get it," Hook said firmly, "There are dozens of Decepticons on this ship, including our leader Megatron. We all need energon. Now, disconnect the cube or replace its contents with your veins."
First Aid nodded weakly and did the job he was ordered to do. He didn't like taking orders from Decepticons, and he mentally berated himself for allowing his soft spark to get him into this mess. More than that however, he was starting to understand just how badly the Decepticons were losing the war.
