Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year

Chapter 18: Choices

"Hmm …. Hm … Hmmmmmmm. Hm. Hmmmmm."

It was a sad tone, the humming that echoed over his confinement in the ship's medical bay. It was nice how Sonic Trip seemed to visit him so often after the Sideways' fairy tale incident. Personally, he liked to think the tale was silly and yet he found himself afraid that that shadow was real, that it was after him. Sonic Trip, if either feeling his fear or fearing the silly superstition herself, had become a regular in his quiet room. She would talk sometimes, tell him what a bright light the sparkling might be if he decided to keep it, but mostly she would just hum or sing because she knew he wasn't ready to decide.

He had been so dead set on aborting it, but now he didn't know if he wanted it or not. Personally, he didn't know if he had a choice. He had swollen so much lately that he seemed ready to pop and though the scientists assured him that the spark hadn't dropped into its casing yet, he was sure he's go into labor any cycle now.

Swallowing the fear of pushing something alive out of his port, or anything for that matter, he tried to pay close attention to the femme's song and the clinking in her hand. It almost sounded like she was making something, sewing something together from soft mesh fabric. He had wanted to ask what it was, but he knew she would just chuckle and say he'd have to wait and see.

He personally was getting sick of her 'blind' jokes but was thankful for her presence nonetheless. Her humming always seemed to be there when he needed it most. In the darkness, Sonic Trip's voice was like a tether in a storm, his life line to sanity. She was a thing to chase away the shadow.

Primus, that story had really gotten to him.

Suddenly, the femme working on one thing or another at his berth side as she hummed her song, there was a groaning to the ship's engine, the ship shaking slightly as it slowly came to a halt. Sentinel swallowed, horror filling his spark, the engine stalling.

Why were they stopping? It was too soon for Docker City, wasn't it? Were they being boarded? Had the Deception's found them? Or, more terribly so, had the Autobots found him?

Sensing his panic, a hand quickly curled around his damaged fingers and he gripped the femme's hand greedily.

"Shh, it's alright Rift Ring. It's probably just the doctor. He's just a little early," she said kindly. "Restart said he would come and check on your damage and once you're stable he'll," her voice stalled for a moment, "check the rest. I will go check to make sure it's him though."

Sentinel merely nodded and allowed the femme to leave, hoping to gather his thoughts. Truthfully, he knew he wasn't trapped anymore like he had felt on Cybertron. He might even survive this with his reputation intact … but the big question was: what then? Would he want to return to a dead end position that labeled him as a traitor by default? Did he want that? Was the position even still there? He had not contacted anyone in the last few Orns. Perhaps there was no going back. Maybe he had already been labeled as a turncoat? And yet that thought didn't bother him as much as it should have. Then again, he knew for a fact that the science team was drugging him with anti-depressants. Personally, he thought they were overdosing him … was he supposed to feel so little right now? Shouldn't he be scared? What if it couldn't be aborted? Was he to be a resident of Docker City? Just another rape victim?

Sentinel nearly jumped out of his armor when he heard several voices talking, his fake name mentioned from time to time. His injured form couldn't help but tighten all over when he heard the door open, a soft intellectual voice rambling on only to stall, vents pulling in. The last few mega-cycles the scientists had been trying to place him back together, but truthfully Sentinel had no idea how bad it was since their work never seemed to be done.

And given how he just stole the entering mech's breath he couldn't help but ask himself: just how badly had he damaged himself?

Perhaps a sparklet was the least of his problems.

"Oh my … this is much, much worse than what you described Skyfire," said the voice, empathetic and yet he had the same electronic tones as Perceptor. Secretly, Sentinel was paranoid of the orange mech in Autobot Headquarters. A part of him was sure Perceptor kept a collection of hard drive mech brains in his room and stared at them at night. That mech was just creepy.

Luckily, this mech obviously still had his emotions if his next words were any indication.

"Child," said the voice as he came over to Sentinel, a small hand gentling touching his shoulder but far from invasive, "Are you in pain? Oh, your legs … and your optics. Even your hands."

Sentinel bit his glossa and stilled the harsh tones he wanted to use. Skyfire had found this mech in confidence and for the science team alone he would remain as calm and collected as he could even after being called child. After all, they had welded his wounds and fed his blind aft for the past orn like it was their joy to do so. They would even chat with him as they worked on his broken body. He could still hear the sorrow in their voice though and yet … he found that he valued their thoughts more than the Magnus' as the days drew on. Not that he would ever admit that aloud. It was almost a treasonous thought, but then again the Magnus' orders were half the reason he was in this bind.

So, for them, he'd mind his glossa. Besides this was the mech that would be helping him with his little problem.

"Not as much as you'd think," darkly joked Sentinel. "I haven't felt below anything the waist in cycles and emotionally I'm drugged to the point that if Primus died I probably wouldn't cry."

There was a moment of silence before Restart spoke softly, presumably to Skyfire, "You have him on anti-depressants? How much? Is it reacting with the pain reducers you are using for his legs? That is a dangerous mix, Skyfire. Anyone with any medical training would know those medicines don't go together."

Clearing his throat, probably feeling embarrassed that he was being chided like a first steller cycle student, the jet murmured, "We aren't giving him anything. He hasn't been able to feel anything … because of an injury. We didn't have the equipment to see what it was … but he have a good guess."

"Oh," said the voice, followed by an almost forlorn, "Ooh, that can't be good. That can't be good at all. I think we have more problems than we think we do. Well, I supposed we should have a look, shan't we Rift Ring?"

…

Sentinel whimpered as the healer closed his chassis what felt like groons later.

His voice was soft, a whisper, as if ashamed about having reached so deep inside Sentinel, in more ways than one. He had to press his fingers under loose bindings and around healing wounds, poking at empty eye sockets and between shy legs … or at least what was left of them. And finally, when a sob threatening to choke him, Restart finished by placing calculated hands on his spark. What made it worse was that the mech always knew when to apologize and when the place a warm hand upon his own. Restart obviously knew how to deal with mechs in Sentinel's position and the blue mech personally didn't know if that made him feel better or not. For one, it meant that other mechs and femmes had felt the way he did right now, but it also meant he was no different. His emotions were merely being reacted to by well practiced skills. He had no idea if the doctor meant his empathy or not.

"Alright," said Restart, in a chipper voice that was probably meant to be encouraging. "The worst part is over now. Examinations are always unpleasant … even for mechs that aren't Heavy so do not feel bad or embarrassed about anything that happened during it."

"Not even when my valve squeezed around your fingers like a whore bot?" bit Sentinel bitterly, a shake in his voice. Luckily though, his shaking had gotten so bad during that part of the examination that he didn't even get a full valve examination. There was no ripping and the valve was acting normal apparently so a scan of the sparkling's shell had been sufficient.

That didn't mean that Sentinel could keep the tears from dripping down the sides of his face unfortunately. Though Restart, thankfully, never commented on the show of emotion.

A soft sigh escaped the doctor and a warm hand was placed onto his own. A voice that was professional and yet sympathetic at the same time answered, "As I explained when I took off the cod piece, it is normal to be so wet down there, especially so far in the carrying because your hips are shifting and lubing for the coming birthing."

Sentinel winced at that. He didn't need those thoughts right now.

As if seeing his discomfort when it came to the sparkling, the medic decided to leave that subject until last. Instead, he decided to list off the other horrors that had been done to his body.

"Well, we'll talk about that later. As of now though, let's go over your other injuries. I think the most apparent thing is your optics. They obviously were damaged and removed. Luckily, I brought a set. They are not blue, merely white, but we can have those in within the next groon if you like. Also, I think it is fairly obvious that you know that your legs were mangled in the fall. One is salvageable from the knee up … the other will have to be replaced from the hip down."

Sentinel winced at that, knowing all too well that he would not be walking anytime soon. True, even if he did hide the pregnancy from the Autobots … how about the jumping to his death part? He could lie. He knew that, but what kind of lie would he offer the medics when they asked about it?

The closest thing to the truth, he supposed. He could just say he fell in a cavern.

It was a weak lie and it left a lot of unanswered questions like why he didn't call the Autobots for help or why he was there to begin with, but he would think of something to fill the gaps. Primus, just thinking about lying to his fellow Autobots made him feel sick to his tank. Autobots did not lie like that. He was starting to sound more and more like a Decepticon.

Perhaps, he should not go back to the Autobots.

Pressing a hand on his swelling abdomen, Sentinel's mind dwelled for a moment on that idea: of not going back. He could stay in Docker City. He knew some mechs now and … and maybe he could keep the sparkling.

And yet, just as quickly as the thought came, Sentinel banished the idea. He loved Cybertron too much to just run away. Plus, it would always be a regret of his if he left, and what if he was later caught? He would be called in for treason given how much information he contained from his positions. Also, he wouldn't be able to hide a sparkling then. He would go to prison and if he had kept the sparkling … it would go to a youngling center and be ridiculed. They would probably even label him or her as a half breed. That is no life for a child.

Perhaps it would have been easier if he had just died.

"You won't be able to walk or transform for a while after they are repaired," interrupted the healer's voice into Sentinel's darkening thoughts, "But they can be replaced. Now, as for your chassis and back … I cannot say the same."

Sentinel swallowed, feeling the tension in the healer's vocals as he murmured, "Just out with it. There is no point in sugar coating it."

"Well, your chassis is heavily scarred and may have marks for vorns to come," said the doctor, Sentinel cringing at the thought that he would look like an old war veteran, "but it's your back I would be worried about. Your spinal strut was damaged," Sentinel took in a sharp breath, thinking he was going to be permanently crippled; there just were some pieces that couldn't be replaced, "but do not panic. It wasn't separated. It was just dislocated which can be set, but that brings me to the next problem."

Trying to keep calm, Sentinel found he could only swallow, any words of dread lodged in his throat.

"You see, given how far along you are in the carrying, your body should have dropped the sparkling's spark into his shell already, but the tubing from your spark to the carrying chamber has been pushed to the side slightly by your crooked spinal strut. Now, this is easy enough to fix, but here comes the hard part," stated Restart with a sigh. "If we fix your spine now … the tubing with straighten and your body will sense the repair, dropping the sparklet and as I'm sure you are away, once the spark is in its shell, we will not abort a sparkling. It's too far in the carrying for that."

Sentinel choked slightly, but somehow found himself remaining silent as the doctor continued.

"The other option is to abort the sparkling's shell before the spark can drop and thus when the spark falls and there is no protoform there to greet it … it will fizzle out," said the doctor professionally, having done the procedure before and not at all squeamish about the subject. "Now, the only problem with doing this before the spinal correction is that it could damage the spinal strut. You see, the strut is currently being supported by the swelled and full carrying chamber which is probably why you have some feeling in your higher thigh area, but not your legs."

Choking, Sentinel threw a hand over his mouth. This wasn't happening!

"Now, now, don't panic. An abortion might not disturb the spinal strut … but if you want to be on the safe side … we have wonderful orphanages in Docker City," added Restart quickly before the other could meltdown.

"So," forced Sentinel, his voice almost gone. "I don't really get a choice in the matter when it comes to the sparking. I have to keep it."

Silent for a moment, knowing all too well he had to speak carefully, Restart murmured, "As always … the choice will always be yours. And, please forgive me if I sound hypocritical, but as with every life choice we make, there is always a price to be paid. This one … is just a little heavier than most."

Sentinel, hands digging into his berth as tears started to drip down his optic-less face, was silent for what felt like an eternity before he whispered, "Life isn't fair."

Restart, sighing, added, "Who ever told you life was fair?"

Sentinel, a sob catching in his throat, silently agreed.

XXX

Paw07: Sorry it took so long to update. I haven't had a lot of spare time and this isn't exactly a story I can take to work and work on. Anyway, I'm really trying to get to the next story arch so I can have a time skip. Ugh, when did this plot line get so long? Also, thanks for anyone who drops a review. I know Sentinel isn't a popular character so any reviews are appreciated.