At an abrupt signal from the 3IC, Gyre took him firmly by the arm and led him away towards the elevators. Mirage didn't fight though he was very interested in whether the conflict resolution process used by the Decepticon High Command had changed. He strained his audials for the first crunch of fist hitting derma and heard, literally, nothing.
Soundwave was dampening acoustic pickup across all frequencies. A quick and dirty trick to keep any discord private. Or at least out of the hearing of nearby Autobot spies. Tempest squirmed in his arms, wrigglier now the sling had been loosened. His palms pattered against Mirage's chestplate but the magnets all sparklings should have did no more than slide stickily. The racer moved to soothe him and was completely unprepared for what Tempest did next.
The seekerling launched himself sideways to sink his needle sharp denta into Gyre's hand.
"Sl...ope and intercept!" The Rotor censored themselves rather than swear in front of a bitlet as they carefully detached their hand from Tempest's fangs. "Should've expected that."
"No!" Mirage scolded, dismayed albeit not shocked. "We do not bite people." He told a brazenly unrepentant sparkling, who was hissing like a high pressure pipe. "It is rude and unsanitary." Tiny wings flared in a threat display, at the helicopter. "Tempest, no."
"He is defending his carrier." Gyre informed the 'Bot, indicating an open elevator with their uninjured hand. The sparkling did not cease warning off the interloper until the three of them were in an examination room with Mirage in the medic's chair and the Decepticon several paces away on guard at the door. Tempest subsided with a tired grumble.
"Soundwave sent you deliberately." Mirage's thoughts drove from the machinations of the present to the machinations of the past. This 'tidying away' reminded him the war was not long over. He was still an Unfriendly to be denied data. He petted the bitlet while trying to keep his own spark pulse calm. "Because of your past relationship with the Air Commander."
"I would think so, yes." The Rotor agreed, dabbing at their bitten hand with a sterile wipe.
"What did he expect Starscream to do?" The Towerling asked idly, without much expectation of a honest answer.
"Primus Themself doesn't know what Starscream will do from one breem to the next." Gyre leaned against the door, audials tuned for any approach. "He's been erratic since he unfurled. Brilliant but his gimbals are askew." They studied the racer for a moment. "The royal line often spawned singletons, who are more prone to coding glitches. If I had to guess, I'd say Starscream is desperately trying to find someone to blame for whatever's wrong with his bitlet, and Thundercracker handed him you."
"I doubt very much that was his intention." If he had to put shanix on it, Mirage would say the blue Seeker had genuinely put aside their faction difference, or was at least making a genuine attempt to do so. Setting him up as a decoy didn't seem credible.
"A most welcome gift nonetheless. An Autobot, a grounder, and a spy. Starscream can be as vengeful, suspicious, and/or resentful of you as he likes. He might even be able to convince himself his trine-mate cheated on him with you." Gyre nodded at Tempest, deflated from his outburst. "You'd best hope his vents come in red. A blue and white sparkling will validate Starscream's self-delusion."
"He has been the Second-in-Command of the Decepticons for megavorn. I find it hard to believe his reality matrix is that vulnerable to wilful flaws." Mirage managed a polite sceptical because he was unarmed in a room with a Decepticon big enough to arm-wrestle Ultra Magnus.
"Professional versus personal." The Rotor tilted from the hip and back in a sinuous gesture as though correcting course; half of one direction, half the other.
Mirage hadn't reached a consensus on what to ask or say or do when a knock gave him a reprieve. Gyre stiffened and had a short private comm chat with whoever was on the other side of the door before opening it. Rumble sauntered inside juggling three sealed cubes of energon. Evidently he'd kicked the door rather than using a hand unless he was particularly adept at the human circus trick.
"Here." He tossed a cube to the helicopter before hopping up onto the desk by Mirage's elbow. The cassette handed the Autobot a cube then peeled open a corner of his own to chug. "Never gonna get tired of not being hungry." Rumble belched appreciatively. "That's the stuff."
Mirage silently resolved never to allow him to mind Tempest unsupervised.
"So yeah not gonna tell you what happened 'cause orders, you being a security risk, but we're gonna be camped out here for a while." Rumble said once he had guzzled the entire cube. "'Screamer wouldn't leave until he knew about Thundercracker, who's not dying by the way. Hook came out super-pissed about being called in."
"Super-pissed?" Gyre asked the Autobot for a translation.
"A human idiom related to expelling excess contaminated fluid." Mirage explained primly. "They use it for a variety of emphasis, referring to intoxication or ire."
"You need to update your lexicon, chopper. The squishies have the best words." The cassette opined. "You know they write stories about us? The Boss is real popular. They've always got him clanging Blaster though, which is real freaky 'cause Hosts don't run like that." Rumble contemplated the metaphysics of existence for a moment. "No mech's told the humans that, probably."
"What did Hook say about Thundercracker?" The noble abruptly swung the wheel of the conversation before they drove down the road to Funky Town, as Jazz would have put it.
"That he's been under-fuelling and over-clocking and dumb shit like that." Rumble was not audibly sympathetic. "Which he was told like a dozen times. He's wound up about the little beep and his trine are being glitches so he's not all chill being waited on hand and foot like carriers are supposed to be." He shrugged. "'Screamer got shrill and Hook stormed off back to medbay."
"Post-emergence stress." Gyre mused, sipping on their cube and visibly trying not to make a face. Mirage presumed wherever they had served, the energon had a very different trace element profile. Or they had encountered Thundercracker's condition before and were, implausibly, compassionate.
"We were arguing when he collapsed." Mirage would have preferred not to admit that but it was better to say now in the conversational gap provided than confessing it under interrogation. He likely would be questioned, hopefully not by Vortex, so laying the foundation for his alibi would be sensible. "The Stunticons had caused a scene in the market. Thundercracker objected to me speaking with Breakdown."
"The bossed logged a punishment detail." Rumble nodded, kicking his short legs.
Soundwave's horde really did behave like younglings when unsupervised, Mirage thought as he shifted his chair away from the swinging limbs. He wondered how old the cassettes were or whether their deplorable behaviour was a product of indulgence. The noble didn't think the dour blue Host capable of such slackness but what did he know of any Decepticon's personal habits? There'd been a note in Soundwave's dossier warning that any attack on his minions would provoke retaliation. Blaster had put about that same warning among Spec Ops citing the spark network link and their frame-type's innate possessiveness.
Mirage subsided, longing for a teammate to talk with. He could message on the Hub but that would have to be kept impersonal. Any whiff of conspiracy and he would be back in the internment camp, likely dragging his interlocutors down with him. He'd try later once domestic matters were more settled. For now he needed to be seen as an asset.
"Did Hook say anything else?" That seemed a practical place to begin. If Thundercracker needed long-term care or rehabilitation, Mirage would by necessity be involved. He didn't want his parole transferred to someone with less investment in Tempest's well-being.
"Yeah, lots." The hooligan grinned. "Mostly profane."
