Author's Notes: Well, this chapter took longer than I had hoped, but it's finally finished! I think this one turned out pretty good. It mostly focuses on the budding relationship between PR-35 and Ratchet and the difficulties they will face now that they both know the truth. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and please don't forget to leave a review :)
Chapter 13
Need Medical Kit
PR-35 saw Ratchet coming into the medbay once again and quickly stopped snooping in the medicine cabinets. He hopped onto the berth and tried to look like he had been resting the entire time. The medic came in, and still had that worried look on his face plate. PR-35 wondered if the Prime had ordered his execution, or if he had some sort of contagious deadly disease.
"I need to talk to you about where you came from," Ratchet said without preamble, "I know this situation has been confusing for you, and frankly it's been confusing for me too, but you need to know the truth."
"What truth?" PR-35 asked cautiously, "Am I in danger?"
"From us, no," Ratchet replied as he sat down on PR-35's berthside.
Ratchet heaved a long sigh, and then he did something the drone didn't expect; he grabbed the Vehicon's servo and squeezed it in a gesture of comfort and solidarity. PR-35 had never had anyone do that in his entire life, and he didn't know the proper way to respond. He couldn't grab Ratchet's servo as well; his other arm had a gun on the end of it. He settled for staring nervously at the medic like a trapped animal in a cage.
"Listen, I scanned your spark and..." Ratchet squeezed the servo tighter as if he were holding onto a lifeline, and PR-35 winced because the medic's strong grip hurt, "...and I found out that your spark belongs to my long lost son Bluestreak. There is only one explanation I can come up with, however farfetched it may seem. I am your sire."
"My...what?" PR-35 squeaked out; barely above a whisper.
"The Decepticons did something to your body and to your processor, but you are my son, Bluestreak," Ratchet stated vehemently, "I know this sounds odd, but I am your sire. You are my son."
"So...does this mean you won't kill me?" PR-35 managed to ask despite not really understanding what was happening.
Ratchet couldn't contain himself anymore after hearing those words. His optics welled up with cleaning fluid and he suddenly grabbed PR-35 to wrap him in an embrace. He hugged the Vehicon and cried into his neck cables, and PR-35 didn't know what to think about this.
Surely the medic had to be mistaken. Surely there was no way he could have lived an entire life he didn't know about. This didn't make any sense, and yet he didn't think a medic could be wrong about something like this. After all, Breakdown was a medic and he was the mech that introduced him to his spark. He would also get snippets of Ratchet's life in his processor. Maybe it was true.
"Excuse me, Doctor?" PR-35 was timid as he spoke, "If you are my sire, then can you tell me of other visions I have in my processor that I can't explain?"
"Maybe," Ratchet replied as he finally let go of his remodeled youngling, "What sort of things have you been seeing?"
"Well, sometimes I see a gold and a red car speed by. Do you know what that is?" PR-35 asked apprehensively.
"Red and gold?" Ratchet asked with a scowl, "Yes, I remember them. They were two hoodlums that went to your school and would often come by our house and scarf down our energon. Went by the designations Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. They went to your school, and Sideswipe was your best friend...whether I liked it or not."
"What happened to them?" PR-35 asked.
"No one knows," Ratchet shrugged, "After Praxus was destroyed I never saw either of them again. There were rumors they ran away to Tyger Pax, but they were only rumors."
"I also sometimes see a black and white mech with a chevron like yours," PR-35 told him, "Do you know who that is?"
At this Ratchet sighed again. This was proving to be an emotionally draining day for the old medic.
"That mech was your older brother; Prowl," Ratchet replied in a haggard tone of voice, "Do you remember anything specific about him?"
"Not right now, but sometimes I do after I wake up from a dream," PR-35 explained, "I've always wanted a brother. Sir...is this, um, Prowl, still alive?"
"No," Ratchet whispered ruefully, "He was killed by Decepticons saving a group of Autobots from a space station called New Polyhex. That station had been taken, reclaimed, and taken again several times over. Of course the Decepticons ultimately took it from us. We Autobots don't really have a claim on any sort of land of our own anymore. What we have is what native species like the humans give us."
"I've never been to New Polyhex," PR-35 commented softly, "But I have been to New Altihex space station. I killed many Autobots there. At the time I didn't even think about it. It was what Lord Megatron wanted, and that was good enough for me. I don't belong to Megatron anymore though. I belong to Optimus Prime. Do you think he will terminate me if he finds out about what I've done?"
Ratchet's spark wanted to break right then and there. This was Bluestreak, his sweet innocent sparkling, telling him that he killed Autobots in the name of Megatron. This was his own creation, and yet even Bluestreak himself believed he was only a piece of property; something that could be traded and owned.
"You don't belong to Optimus," Ratchet said firmly as he grabbed PR-35's helm in his servos and forced him to look at him.
"So...I belong to you?" PR-35 guessed nervously.
"No!" Ratchet snapped, and PR-35 flinched, "You don't belong to anyone! You are your own mech, and you are going to get a second chance to live the life you want to live; the life you deserve to live! I'm sorry it took me so long to find you Bluestreak, but I won't lose you again. You're going to be okay."
"Um, sir?" PR-35 addressed him as sir because sire was still too familiar for him, "You say I can live any way I want. What if I still wanted to be a Decepticon? What if I wanted to return to the Nemesis? Would I be allowed to do that?"
"Bluestreak...It's complicated," Ratchet sighed; nearly choking up on the word Bluestreak, "You can remain a Decepticon if you feel you could never be a loyal Autobot, but you would have to remain our prisoner if you did. We can't risk you revealing the location of our base. Megatron would destroy us if he had the chance."
"I understand," PR-35 replied sincerely, "However, that means I am still not free. I am only free if I choose to be an Autobot, but is it really a choice if the alternative is pain and confinement? These questions are too confusing for me, so please tell me something I can understand. Do I belong to you or Optimus Prime? Who am I loyal to above all else?"
"I can't tell you that," Ratchet replied softly; not liking the direction this conversation was going, "You have to decide for yourself what you value. What will you live for? What will you die for? What is worth pain and suffering and what isn't? I can't tell you that, son. This is something you need to learn on your own."
"But I'm old," PR-35 pointed out sadly, "It's too late for me to learn anything new. I was programmed from birth to serve my master. At one time that was Megatron. I need to know who my master is now."
"You are not a slave!" Ratchet shouted vehemently; desperately hoping to get through to his reprogrammed creation, "Your birth was not in Shockwave's lab! You were born in the Allspark, and you were raised in Praxus by me! I don't care if you have the body of a Vehicon, and Insecticon, or a scraplet! You deserve better than to be given orders by cruel masters and die unmourned! Bluestreak!" By now Ratchet's optics had started to fill with fluid again as he quieted down and said in a soft voice, "I know they hurt you, and I know you're confused, but I love you and you must not let them win. Just stay here for a while, and once you have all the knowledge you need to make an informed decision, then decide what you want to do with your life. Okay?"
PR-35 had been afraid at first of Ratchet's yelling, but once he realized Ratchet wasn't angry at him, but rather angry at Megatron, he began to listen. Ratchet was miserable at seeing PR-35's condition; the drone could tell from the way he cried as he spoke. This old medic no longer seemed like a scary unknowable torturer, but a forlorn sire that was desperately trying to reach out to the sparkling he lost. PR-35 slid off the berth and faced his supposed creator with an unreadable face plate and visor. It was moments like these PR-35 wished drones were built with more expressive facial features.
"Sir, am I free to choose the purpose I serve?" PR-35 asked apprehensively, "I don't really want to be a frontline soldier anymore."
"Then what do you want to do, son?" Ratchet asked gently as he looked PR-35 in his red visor.
"Well...if you have the time...I would like to be trained as a field medic," PR-35 replied sheepishly, "I have always admired those that can heal, but Vehicons are not allowed to hold such an important position since many believe we wouldn't have the free will to make difficult medical decisions. Would you have time to teach me a few basics, please?"
Ratchet's optics went wide with wonder at those words, and then he smiled with pride as he realized his youngest son just said he wanted to be just like him.
"Of course I can teach you," Ratchet said hoarsely; barely able to choke out the words as he was overwhelmed by emotion, "We can start whenever you want!"
"Thank you, sir," PR-35 replied gratefully, "May we start tomorrow? I'm pretty tired right now, and I want to grab some energon."
"Of course," Ratchet nodded as he stepped aside to let PR-35 pass, "We can start first thing in the morning. Maybe I can even convince Fowler to get you your own tools. Oh, this is going to be great!"
PR-35 laughed at his sire's enthusiasm as he walked away from the medbay and toward the energon dispenser.
Hm, maybe that's where I get my excitable nature... PR-35 thought as he grabbed a cube of energon. Still, I wish he wouldn't call me Bluestreak. That name is weird, and I'm not sure I can get used to it. I guess I have to though, since that is my name now. I can't believe I have a sire...
And that was when what happened finally hit him.
I have a sire! PR-35 suddenly realized with perfect clarity. I have a family! That means I'm a real mech after all! This is great! Wait until the guys hear this-! Oh, wait. I can't tell them. I'm an Autobot now. Wait, if I'm real, then that means...Oh, no...My friends and colleagues are real too, and Megatron knows! That slag heap! He's killing us on purpose!
A few days passed since the revelation of PR-35's true origins. Most of the other 'Bots didn't know how to handle the new information, and the human kids hadn't showed up to the base until that day, so no one had bothered to inform them yet. Ratchet rarely left the medbay in these few days, not because he was sad, but because he was happily passing on his knowledge to his son; the next generation of Autobot medic (he hoped).
"So if there is calcification of the energon line, which scalpel do you use to remove it?" Ratchet asked as he showed PR-35 a display of small scalpels.
"Um...this one?" PR-35 guessed as he held up the third one in the row.
"Yes. Why do you use that one?" Ratchet tested him further.
"Uh...Because...The slight curve of the blade allows the sharp part to extract the calcium deposits while the blunt part of the blade touches the energon line in a way that doesn't cut into it further."
Ratchet nodded with an approving smile, and PR-35 pumped his fist in the air in victory; forgetting he was holding the scalpel until he cut his servo on it.
"Ow!" PR-35 exclaimed as a small pool of energon started to form on his servo, "I can fix that! I just need to...um...Band Aid?"
"That's a human thing," Ratchet reminded him longsufferingly, "Here, let me clean off the energon from around the wound. Now pay attention. Once the wound is mostly clean and the flow tapers off we...?"
"Um, solder it?" PR-35 guessed uncertainly.
"Correct. We solder it," Ratchet replied patiently as he turned one of his fingers into a soldering iron and began to apply the new metal that would cover the cut while it healed, "Now keep in mind that you can't always wait for the energon to stop flowing if a mech is leaking out too quickly. Ideally though, you don't want energon in your welds. Understand?"
"Yes sir," PR-35 nodded studiously, "You're very good at this. It doesn't even hurt."
"You'll learn the right touch eventually," Ratchet replied, "It comes with experience."
Once PR-35's servo was fixed they were going to get back to their lesson, but their workflow was interrupted by a high frequency message coming through on the main computer. Ratchet ran over to it to see what was going on, and everyone else gathered around in curiosity to see who was trying to contact them.
"It's an encoded message," Ratchet told them, "...From Starscream. It says: Have vital information for Autobot cause. Badly injured. Bring medical kit."
"We're not going, are we?" Bulkhead remarked incredulously, "This is the third time he's done this!"
[Starscream's information has been reliable so far,] Bumblebee pointed out.
"Agreed," Optimus Prime affirmed, "Ratchet, see what Starscream knows, and bring someone with you in case he tries something devious."
"I'll go," Ironhide said gamely, "I've been lookin' for some action!" He exclaimed as he banged his fists together and his cannons charged up.
"No!" PR-35 suddenly exclaimed, "Please sir, let me go. My sire has been training me, and I would like an opportunity to see him work on a real patient. I promise I will protect him."
"Just what makes you think we'll trust you to look after him?" Ironhide growled, "You're a fraggin' Vehicon!"
"Yes, but I am also an excellent sharpshooter," PR-35 pointed out, "I mean, I know that probably isn't what you want to hear, but I can help. You guys have given me everything, including my sire. I won't betray you, I promise."
"I trust him, Ironhide," Ratchet said in defense of his son, "He won't hurt me. Come on Bluestreak, let's go."
As they walked toward the space bridge controls PR-35 let out an intake he didn't realize he'd been holding. Ironhide terrified him, but not as badly as being near such an unpredictable Autobot once would. He was also grateful no one saw through to his true motivations. While it was true he was learning from his sire, and it was true he would never betray Ratchet, that wasn't why he was going. He still didn't trust Ratchet to not harm his former commander, and he couldn't stand the thought of letting an Autobot kill Starscream while he was helpless.
Starscream was in an ice cave bleeding energon from his left leg and left hip joint. He had been shot down while running away with a stack of energon cubes from the Nemesis. Despite escaping Dreadwing, Knockout, and even Megatron himself, Starscream ultimately got shot down by a Vehicon drone. It wasn't just painful, it was humiliating.
A ground bridge opened, and Starscream sighed in relief thinking that the first thing he would see would be Ratchet. When a Vehicon trooper appeared out of the swirling green void, however, Starscream panicked.
"No, stay back!" Starscream shrieked as he aimed his arm cannon at the Vehicon; hoping to bluff his way out of this with his non-operational weapons, "I'm warning you! I'll do it!"
"Commander Starscream! Calm down!" The Vehicon shouted as he held up his servo and gun arm in surrender, "We're not going to hurt you."
Just then, Ratchet came out of the ground bridge, and Starscream went from terror to confusion in an instant.
"Ratchet, why is a Vehicon among your ranks?" Starscream asked almost tauntingly, "You didn't defect to the Decepticons, did you?"
Ratchet scowled, and PR-35 quickly said "No, sir. Megatron, um, lost a bet! Yeah! He lost a game of cards to Ratchet and used me as collateral! Pretty weird, huh?"
"Hmph," Starscream scoffed as he folded his arms over his cockpit, "Typical. Drones are such bad liars."
"Hey! It's not my fault! I'm only programmed to shoot mech-shaped targets!" PR-35 yelled defensively.
"Enough already!" Ratchet shouted to end the ridiculous exchange, "What is this information you have for us?"
"Oh, well um, you see..." Starscream stammered; suddenly at a loss for words.
"What?" Ratchet snapped impatiently.
"Well you see, I, um...lied," Starscream admitted guiltily, but then in a more dramatic tone said, "I was attacked trying to steal energon from Megatron's warship, and I didn't know where else to turn! I beg you not to turn your back on me! I am alone, helpless, and do what I must to survive! Don't leave me like this, please!"
Ratchet glared at the seeker for wasting his time. This Decepticon and his trine had committed more atrocities than Ratchet could recount. The hatred and disgust Ratchet felt for the seeker was intense, yet for the most part he allowed it to merely simmer in the background; knowing pure hatred wouldn't solve anything. Now though, this monster was within striking distance of his youngling, and he wasn't about to waste his time repairing him when he didn't even have information to offer.
"Let's go," Ratchet turned back toward the ground bridge; not even sparing a glance at the immobilized seeker.
"What!?" Starscream exclaimed in shock, "No! You can't leave me out here to bleed out my meager energon supply! Ratchet, have mercy!"
Ratchet just kept walking and ignored the pleas of the former air commander. He did, that is, until he realized PR-35 wasn't following him. Ratchet turned back to see the drone kneeling over Starscream's injury and examining it, most likely calculating which energon lines had been cut.
"I said let's go!" Ratchet shouted in frustration.
"I'm not leaving him!" PR-35 snapped defiantly, "He might be nothing but a vagabond now, but he was my commander once, and he was a good one! I'm going to do whatever I can to save him."
"He was a good commander?" Ratchet asked skeptically, "That pompous lying murderous coward was a good commander?"
"Yes, he was," PR-35 replied as he took a small med kit out of subspace, "Starscream gave promotions, did you know that? None of the other commander did that. He also didn't kill us for fun, or kill officers like Breakdown for that matter. He also built the Eradicons in his image; giving them a certain dignity not seen in a drone in centuries."
"Well, the color scheme was mine," Starscream recalled fondly, "I modeled the bodies off my deceased wingmates; Skywarp and Thundercracker."
Ratchet growled low at the mention of those names, and PR-35 actually gulped when he looked up to see the fiery hatred in Ratchet's optics. He had to remind himself that the hatred was for Starscream, not for him, as he started to fuse energon lines shut and clean the wounds before welding. He took out strips of metal to patch up Starscream's leg and hip joint, but he noticed when he started welding that Starscream grunted and winced in pain. Apparently he wasn't as good at this as Ratchet.
Much to PR-35's relief Ratchet finally bent down to help the drone patch up Starscream. He supposed the old medic's coding had finally kicked in. Starscream had lost a lot of energon, however, and while they were welding him back together he passed out.
"Oh dear, he's going to need med grade energon," PR-35 observed, "Do you have any, sir?"
Ratchet grunted in protest but pulled an IV tube and a cube of medical grade energon from his subspace anyway. Ratchet hooked up the IV while PR-35 continued to patch wounds and clean dried energon off the unconscious seeker's frame.
"Sir? I hope I'm not prying too much, but why didn't you want to help Commander Starscream?" PR-35 asked apprehensively.
"I don't understand why anyone would want to help him," Ratchet shot back, "You have no idea how much he's taken away from me; taken away from you! His trine was not only responsible for the total destruction of Praxus and the slaughter of its people, but they were also the ones heading the attack on New Polyhex when Prowl was killed. Starscream doesn't deserve our pity, or the precious supply of energon we're giving him now. He's a monster."
"So...Starscream is the reason I became a drone?" PR-35 asked in a hushed tone of voice.
"More or less," Ratchet hissed angrily as he looked down at his unworthy patient.
"Could Prowl be a drone, too?" PR-35 asked hopefully, "I mean, you thought I was dead, but I'm not. Maybe Prowl is a drone somewhere too, and maybe he wasn't killed in action yet! Maybe..."
"No," Ratchet replied bitterly, "Prowl's body was recovered floating through space. Your body was never found."
PR-35 shifted nervously as he applied the last weld. It was strange and kind of unnerving to hear Ratchet talk about finding (or not finding) his body. His body...he still couldn't think of himself as a missing and presumably dead sparkling, and yet that was the reality Ratchet dealt with every orn. He imagined the old medic frantically asking authorities if Bluestreak had been recovered, or digging through the rubble himself in search of his youngest creation. It made PR-35 feel bad for his sire, and it made him want to try harder to be the son Ratchet had missed out on for so long. He only wished he could give him Prowl back too.