Author's Notes: Hi guys! Well, I'm finally updating a fic for once. My schedule has been busy so I haven't had a lot of time for fics, but hopefully I can get back on a decent writing schedule again soon. Funny story about this chapter...I actually finished it a few days ago, but I got distracted by something and forgot to post it. So I'm late, but better late than never I suppose ^_^'
I hope you guys enjoy this story, and please don't forget to leave a review. I love hearing from you guys, and sometimes I need to be reminded of which fics people are actually reading :)
Chapter 14
Believe Me
VS-5001 had 5 more dreams in the past orn. It seemed like he couldn't go into recharge anymore without another nightmare invading his processor. They were becoming more vivid, clearer, and angrier every time he tried to recharge, and he realized now the sickness that was infecting the others. This was serious, and it was affecting work performance.
He went into the medbay to see Knockout examining one of his Eradicon troops. The drone felt a pang of sympathy for his subordinate as he watched him squirm under the watchful optic of the self-absorbed medic.
"I'm telling you Doctor, my sparkling is still out there!" The Eradicon cried out, "I saw it! My sparkling ran away from the soldiers! He's still out there! Please let me go back to Cybertron to look for him! Please!"
Knockout sighed audibly and then hooked the Vehicon up to a chord that kept it under sedation. VS-5001 watched unflinchingly as Knockout ripped out several wires from the Vehicon's helm and crushed its processor in his perfectly polished servo. Knockout then threw the dead frame into a pile of other dead frames, and VS-5001 just knew that the unfortunate drone had not been the first to come in raving about their dreams.
Knockout then swiftly turned to VS-5001 and glared at him; causing the Eradicon to shift slightly on his pedes.
"Well, what do you want?" Knockout snapped irritably as he put his servo on his hip and swayed indignantly.
"I believe I know why so many Vehicons and Eradicons are currently broken, sir," VS-5001 replied without showing fear, "The air on earth is eroding their secondary processor chips. I do not claim to understand the specifics of the chip's purpose, but unless they can be repaired the drones will continue to go insane."
VS-5001 of course neglected to mention his own haunting dreams. It was too late for him, he knew that, but he would not allow himself to deactivate until the plague on his brethren was contained. Until then, he would pretend he was fine and not tell anyone he was being tormented by images of spilled energon and glowing red optics boring into his nonexistent spark.
"That's impossible," Knockout contradicted him, "Those chips are meant to last forever."
"Under normal circumstances I'm certain they would, sir," VS-5001 replied respectfully, though not backing down in his argument, "Unfortunately the planet's atmosphere is detrimental to the metals contained in the chips. Until this can be fixed I highly recommend pulling our mining team from earth and keeping all drones aboard the Nemesis."
"And you want me to give that recommendation to Lord Megatron?" Knockout asked in a tone that just screamed are you kidding?, "Forget it. My medical opinions are not swayed by military equipment. I suggest you get back to work and leave the thinking to those of us with actual processors. Now, get out."
"Yes, sir," VS-5001 replied formally before turning and leaving.
VS-5001 didn't understand Knockout's attitude. He had never questioned the medic before, it was never his place to do so, but he had always assumed that Knockout would at least care about an outbreak that could cripple their army. Knockout hadn't quite been the same since Breakdown died; that much anyone could see. VS-5001 needed to cure his fellow drones before Knockout stripped each and every one of them for parts.
He needed a plan, but there was no orthodox way to fix this. His job was to coordinate military drones and nothing else. He could do his job while insane as long as he knew he was insane, but many of the others weren't so lucky. They had already lost so many to the processor madness, and he was the only one that seemed to care about curing them.
His processor told him to go back to work and forget about this, but there was another less practical part of him that said the answer could be found in his dreams. One mech featured prominently in his nightmares, and perhaps that one mech could yet save them. It was a foolish thought to be sure, but VS-5001 had no one left to count on but himself. His insanity might as well become his driving force.
The drab grey Eradicon left the safety of his post and stood out on the hangar overlooking the clouds. The expanse of earth's blue skies seemed endless, and the ground wasn't even visible due to the altitude and the cloud cover. VS-5001 stood there a moment longer, and then plunged into the unknown; transforming into his jet mode to meet his insanity head-on. He would find the figure of his nightmares and make him fix this. He would find their former commander; Starscream.
Relics from Iacon. PR-35 had vaguely heard about such things when going over mission reports on the Nemesis, but to actually know that such things were on earth was insane. There were five decoded Iacon relic locations, and teams of two would be sent out to most of them to collect the valuable objects. Only Optimus Prime would go on his mission alone since he was the most powerful member of the team.
PR-35 at first was happy that he was even being trusted with such a secret. Ratchet of course vouched for him, and most of the team seemed okay with him being present at the meeting to discuss the ancient artifacts. What he wasn't expecting however was to be chosen for a team to collect a relic.
He wanted to go with Ratchet, but Ratchet had been assigned to go with Wheeljack instead. PR-35 hadn't really interacted much with the former Wrecker; mostly because Wreckers gave him the creeps. Because of this PR-35 was grateful to not have to go with Wheeljack. Bumblebee was partnered with Arcee, and Bulkhead and partnered up with Ironhide. That just left PR-35 with...
"Me!?" Chromia shouted incredulously, "Why do I have to babysit the 'Con?"
"Former 'Con!" PR-35 pouted defensively, "Besides, you're sure to come back alive if I go with you. Vehicons always get shot down first."
"Don't talk like that, Bluestreak," Ratchet scolded him, "You're going to be alright."
"Yes, sir," PR-35 replied; still not too keen on the name Bluestreak but not willing to argue about it.
Each team was given a location to go to. Optimus got the hardest assignment (in the Arctic), Bulkhead and Ironhide were going to an active volcano, Arcee and Bumblebee were taking two of the humans to New York City, Ratchet and Wheeljack were going to someplace near the Rocky Mountains, and PR-35 and Chromia were going to one of the smaller Hawaiian islands.
"Seriously, I get stuck climbin' a volcano with this lugnut," Ironhide exclaimed to Chromia as he gestured to Bulkhead, "And you're goin' on a tropical vacation with another mech?"
"I'm already jealous, you don't have to rub it in," Chromia replied teasingly, "Have fun on your adventure, boys."
"You too, sweet spark," Ironhide said affectionately to his mate, and then turned to the Vehicon and added, "And you keep your hand and your gun to yerself."
"Um...Is he afraid of me shooting you or flirting with you?" PR-35 whispered to Chromia.
"Both," Chromia deadpanned, "Let's just get this mission over with."
Raf used his computer to activate the ground bridges to each assignment, and each team of two went to their respective locations.
PR-35 felt blinded by the sun when he exited the ground bridge. It was only mid-morning in Hawaii, but PR-35 wasn't used to the sun since he either lived aboard the dark confines of the Nemesis or more recently underground in the Autobot base. Still, once he adjusted his visual input the water and sand was quite a stunning sight to behold.
"This way," Chromia ordered after checking her scanners, "Hurry up!"
PR-35 quickly followed after the blue femme as she followed the signal of the as yet unknown relic. PR-35 was curious as to whether it would be an Autobot artifact that held secrets to the mysterious past of former Primes, or if perhaps it could be a Decepticon WMD that would give the Autobots an advantage over their most hated enemies.
PR-35 didn't know which outcome he wanted, actually. The Autobots were his team now, and he should want them to win. His sire was an Autobot, and the Autobots tolerated him every bit as much as the Decepticons had. Megatron was revealed to be a liar and a ghoulish reaper of sparks. PR-35 should have no questions left in his processor about who to love and trust, yet there was a sliver of doubt. What if the whole long-lost sparkling story was just an act to gain his loyalty? What if Ratchet decided he didn't want a Vehicon for a son and disassembled him? What if there were other good Decepticon officers like Breakdown still out there? He just wanted someone to give him simple answers so he could get back to his simple life.
"Hey Vehicon, over here!" Chromia motioned for him by an old abandoned shack, "The signal's comin' from inside."
PR-35 obeyed and went over to where she was, but he wasn't exactly eager to do so. Chromia and her mate rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. PR-35 didn't mind that she refused to call him Bluestreak, but she also refused to remember his serial number. She just called him drone or Vehicon; never PR-35. Those sorts of slights never bothered him when he was among the Decepticons, but for some reason he really took offense to it when the Autobots treated him that way. Even he didn't understand why.
The mechs were too big to fit inside the tiny straw and wood structure, but after a quick scan Chromia revealed there was no one inside and clearly there hadn't been for years, so she ripped the roof off the hut and peered inside.
PR-35 noticed that Chromia's optics swirled around the same way Arcee's did when she was concentrating on something. She also had the faintest hint of pink in her blue optics just like her daughter. PR-35 couldn't help but wonder if he had looked a lot like Ratchet when he was a sparkling.
Chromia reached into the hut and pulled out what had to be the ugliest mask PR-35 had ever seen. It had angry looking optic-holes, a snarling mouth with a nozzle in the middle, and it was a dull gunmetal grey. PR-35 was a little freaked out by the thing, but he didn't let it show so the tough femme wouldn't think he was a weakling. She turned it this way and that, but there was no angle that could make that hideous mask look good.
"What is that thing?" PR-35 finally worked up the courage to ask.
"This thing as you called it is the mask of Zeta Prime," Chromia replied as she stared critically at the artifact, "You're probably too young to remember this, I mean if you could remember things, but Zeta Prime was one of the most controversial mechs to ever hold the position of Prime. He slaughtered many citizens of Nuon when they criticized his regime by saying he didn't have the Matrix and therefore wasn't a true Prime. He redefined functionalism in such a way that the working class became little better than slaves, and killed anyone who dared to oppose him."
"Did he wear that ugly mask while doing it?" PR-35 asked bluntly, "Seriously, he'd have a be a psychopath to think that mask looks fashionable."
"It's not for fashion, you little punk," Chromia smirked despite herself, "It's a weapon. Here, step back and I'll show you how it works."
PR-35 stepped backward away from Chromia until his pedes touched the ocean waves. He sunk a little in the sand, but he didn't mind. He just didn't want to crowd Scary Blue Femme Senior while she held a deadly weapon in her servos.
Chromia put the mask on and turned a dial on the side of the ghastly headgear. She turned toward a tree and pushed a button to activate the weapon. The nozzle on the mask spewed a noxious smelling green gas straight toward the tree, and the palm immediately began to wilt and break apart! When Chromia was done there was nothing left of the tree except for a few pieces of dried leaf matter where there had once been a tall and proud palm tree.
"Whoa! What the pit was that!?" PR-35 exclaimed when she took the mask off.
"The mask turns oxygen into concentrated gaseous tox-en," Chromia explained, "This was one reason it took so long to depose Zeta Prime. By the time you came along though Zeta Prime was history and Sentinel Prime was ruling in his place. He didn't really do much better, but at least he wasn't wearing this gas mask while he flushed Cybertron down the crapper."
"What's a crapper?" PR-35 asked innocently.
"Ask the humans when we get back. You'll get a real kick out of it," Chromia chuckled, "I'm gonna call for a ground bridge now. You did good on your first-"
Before Chromia could finish her sentence however, shots were fired near them that barely missed, and they both turned around to see three Vehicons running right for them! They both took cover behind a cluster of trees with the Vehicons in hot pursuit. Chromia activated her cannon and was about to shoot the one in the center straight in the spark, but PR-35 pushed her cannon away as she fired, and her shot went harmlessly up in the air.
"What do you think you're doing?" Chromia barked at PR-35, "They're the enemy!"
"Didn't you hear Prime?" PR-35 shouted back, "Those guys used to be mechs just like us! Well, you, um, well technically you're not- oh, never mind! Don't kill them!"
"Freeze!" The head Vehicon shouted as the three aimed their blasters at Chromia and PR-35, "Whoa wait, PR-35? Is that you? You're alive?"
"Um, yes," PR-35 replied uncertainly, "It's been a while, NU-457. You know, we were just talking about Nuon. Turns out the Prime's have always been jerks to your home city-state."
"Not helping," Chromia hissed at him.
"Why are you with this Autobot? We thought you were deactivated," NU-457 asked critically.
"Well, to make a long story short, I think the Autobots adopted me," PR-35 tried to explain.
"You mean you were reprogrammed as a pet?" NU-457 asked with equal parts concern and disgust.
"No, but Ratchet thinks I'm his son," PR-35 told him, "Oh, in case you don't remember who Ratchet is, he's the guy that melted ICN-8675's face with a blowtorch."
"Ahh!" The Vehicon to the right of NU-457 squealed, "You've been captured by the Doctor of Doom?"
"Oh, it's not as bad as all that," PR-35 assured him, "Ratchet is actually a very good sire. He's teaching me how to be a medic."
"Drones do not practice medicine," NU-457 stated firmly, "We are not mechs, and only mechs may become medical assistants. You are Decepticon property, and you need to come back with us at once."
"That's Zeta Prime talk!" PR-35 snapped defiantly.
"Um...Who is Zeta Prime?" NU-457 asked uncomprehendingly.
"He was a very bad Prime," PR-35 explained, "He's the reason Autobots used to be bad, and he turned mechs and femmes into slaves. He also killed a bunch of mechs from Nuon, which is where you were built if I remember your serial number correctly. Listen guys, we found a dangerous relic, and you've been standing here like idiots. If Chromia wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. We don't have to fight. We don't have to be slaves and property. We can be free and discover what our dreams mean. Optimus took me in. He might take you in too."
"The Prime wants Vehicon troops for himself?" The Vehicon to the left asked curiously.
"Dreams?" The one on the right asked, "Have you been going crazy too?"
"I'm not crazy! My father is an Autobot medic!" PR-35 shouted, and the other Vehicons stared at him skeptically.
"NU-457," The one on the right addressed its leader, "We can't take PR-35 back with us. He's the oldest living Vehicon. If Knockout gets a hold of him, he'll scrap him for parts just like all the others. We've gotta let him go."
"You're talking about treason!" NU-457 exclaimed angrily, "We are Megatron's loyal servants! Just because PR-35 has gone senile doesn't mean we should give up on our duty to reclaim him. He's just equipment, same as us."
"We may be equipment," The Vehicon on the left interjected, "But I'm scared. I've had dreams lately, bad ones. Dreamers get dissected. I don't want to die, even if I am defective. Maybe if the Autobots are taking shoddy equipment, I should go with them. We could all go and start a new life. I'd rather be Optimus Prime's butler than a pile of reject parts on the medbay floor."
"That's the spirit!" PR-35 cheered.
"Hey drone, I just got a comm from Fowler!" Chromia shouted gruffly, "Somethin' bad's happened at the volcano! He cut me off...We've gotta get back to base! It could be somethin' wrong with Ironhide!"
"Okay guys," PR-35 addressed the drones, "That ground bridge is opening, and it leads to a life without the Decepticons. How many of you are willing to grab your chance at freedom and knowledge?"
The three drones looked at each other with confusion and uncertainty.
"I will never betray Megatron," NU-457 said with a dangerous edge to his voice.
The one on the right saw how his superior reacted, and fearfully nodded his agreement. The one on the left, however, kept looking at PR-35 and Chromia.
"I'm in," The left one finally said, much to the shock of his brethren, "I don't want to die for my dreams. If the Prime wants defective merchandise, then I'm all his."
"No, you're not," PR-35 said wistfully as he took the other Vehicon by the shoulders, "So, what's your serial number, comrade?"
"VS-5000."