The Honor in Duty
Chapter 7
Old "Friends"
Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers or the Transformers: Prime tv series. Beta read by the amazing enmused.
Helloooo beloved readers! Yes, I'm still alive! Sorry for the long hiatus there, life is crazy and I'm moving countries again soon, so life is bound to continue being such for the foreseeable future. Thank you all for sticking with me, your reviews are greatly appreciated and are a huge encouragement to me! Also, if you haven't seen it, before you read this chapter, I'd strongly advise reading my one-shot Don't Call It Leave. Be sure to read the author's note just a little bit below!
Review Responses: To Sunsetwater: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you enjoyed the one-shot, and I agree, the leave time was a really great thing for everyone involved. Gotta love the Rescue Bots.
To WolfAssassin369:
To redlinevcr: Thanks for reviewing! The wait was longer than I expected, but hopefully it's worth it!
To
To AllSpark Princess: Well, Terabyte's journey up until this point has been filled with ups and downs, and this rollercoaster ride still has a ways to go, but as always, our Terabyte is made of some pretty tough stuff, so never fear, she'll make it through alright in the end!
To ZabuzasGirl: I'd hardly call this an immediate update, but here you go! Hope you enjoy!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: (Also, to Secretlyapartycreature): Haha, well, actually... For anyone who might have questions about Terabyte and Skyquake and their relationship, don't worry, the brackets are there for a reason. They're just taking their sweet time. They are romantically interested, and personally, I ship them very, very hard, lol. Their relationship is a little bit complicated and will take a while to develop further, but we are getting there! While they have been close friends for over a decavorn (and I think its pretty clear that Skyquake has been very much in love with her for a good portion of that time), it's important to keep in mind that when they first met, Terabyte was a third-frame youngling newly upgraded to an adult frame. Which is the equivalent of a twelve year old. So Skyquake, being the respectable and honor-bound mech that he is, has been biding his time and being very careful in his relationship with her, not trying to push her too far too fast, and letting her mature and reach the point where she's ready on her own. She's only just recently reached the point at which a Cybertronian is actually considered an adult, so she's basically like a newly-turned eighteen year old. So don't worry, Terabyte is beginning to realize that she really does love him, and she's beginning to realize that he has for a very long time. This ship is going to sail, but its gonna be a long, slow journey!
She rolled through the smoke-laden streets of Kolkular, returning from a long rotation's errand-run to the Tactical Division on the city's upper levels. Which just so happened to be the only part of the citadel exposed to the sulphurous, ashen excuse for air in this sector.
Her engine gave a displeased, strained whine.
At this point, she was covered in enough soot and ash her paintjob was hardly distinguishable from the pitch black streets. Luckily for her, she was through for the day, and had no social engagements aside from possibly a quick refuel in the mess hall, most likely joined by Meister.
First on her to do list was definitely hitting the wash-racks. Yes, that would do nicely; a long, cold shower.
"ARCEEEEEEEE!"
The little two-wheeler slammed on her brakes at the life-En curdling screech, not even able to transform and draw a weapon before a full frame crashed into her, knocking victim and assailant tumbling across the broad highway. Metal shrieked and scattered sparks around as she skidded on her side over the pavement with the weight of her attacker holding her down.
Somehow managing to transform, the spy's optics widened as she found herself staring straight into wild optics. The attacker held her pinned to the street, crouching over her frame and snarling like some sort of feral beast, long claws piercing deep into the spy's protoform, drawing life-En with ease.
She deduced that her attacker was a femme, and said femme was now sniffing her like a turbo-fox on the hunt. Ashy grime covered the femme's frame, but the harsh scent of rust and old life-En solidified the suspicion in her mind.
"Flamewar."
"My beautiful Arcee…" She cackled madly, "I have waited for this moment for decavorns."
The two-wheeler pulled away from the femme, ignoring the searing pain as her assailant's razor-edged claws, one in her arm and one in her chassis, twisted sharply in the femme's excitement and lust to kill her. Life-En mixed with the volcanic ash covering her chassis.
"I am not Arcee." She snarled, not bothering to hold back the annoyance in her tone. She was not in the mood for this. "I am First Major Terabyte of Soundwave's Communication and Intelligence Division. Release me imm-"
"LIES!" Flamewar shrieked, lashing out at her face-plates, claws shearing away long slivers of her Prussian blue battle mask. "I will rip your treacherous frame to-"
The femme's dark red optics flashed brightly then went dim and her overheated frame collapsed on top of the small two-wheeler with a crunch as the femme's weight plunged her claws deeper into her victim's chassis. The spy bit down hard on her glossa to stop her scream, golden optics flaring bright.
Venting heavily where she lay, the two-wheeler felt someone roll Flamewar's limp figure off of her. The black mech chuckled, offering her a hand up. His unusually dark red visor glinted in the smoky air, a bright grin on his face. "Femme's a real nut-job."
She snorted, accepting Meister's offered hand, "No kidding. Makes a triple-changer look sane."
He huffed, looking her up and down with a grunt of what almost seemed like concern, "You're hurt."
The major glanced down at her somewhat mutilated chassis and arm. It looked a lot worse than it felt, but it still didn't feel too great. "The damage is not major. I will pay the Medic a visit. Your assistance is appreciated, Meister."
"Can hardly stand." The mech grumbled skeptically, his dark visor flashing briefly. She puffed up her armor indignantly, hissing at the mech as he wrapped her arm over his shoulder, supporting most of her light weight. "Doubt you'd go to the medic if I didn't take you."
She jerked away from the larger mech, gold optics smoldering. "My well-being is none of your concern."
Meister flashed that grin at her, shrugging and leading on as she stumbled along beside him. After awhile she'd lost enough life-En that her pedes were having difficulties supporting her weight and her HUD flashed a near constant stream of errors. She had sustained injuries far worse, these truly were not major, but she still knew her limits.
She could've sworn the black and red mech's engine gave a triumphant rumble when she was forced to accept his support.
Blast! We need Jazz for this.
Terabyte winced at the medic's frustration, feeling it spike through her helm in waves rolling off of the mech's mental presence. These continual medical scans of her processors were becoming increasingly annoying to both of them. He simply couldn't get to the skilfully barricaded slave codes in her processor, much less do anything about them.
She tried to fight off the pulse of betrayed hatred bubbling up in her at the name Ratchet mentioned. As the familiar faceplate appeared in her memory, visor dark, a murderous grin on his face, the femme silenced a growl of her engine. With the medic in her helm though, her outward control served very little purpose in the scheme of things.
Brushing up with that memory came the guise he'd worn and befriended her behind, which she quickly shoved out of her thoughts, back into the dark corner of her processor where she hid the things she no longer wished to recall.
You knew Jazz?
Ratchet's confusion and curiosity were equally clear as he regarded the mixed emotions swirling through her at the thought of the mech. Primarily the thoughts consisted of rage, anger, guilt, though she knew that he felt the betrayal, and the wistful regret as well. The medic didn't ask, but she could feel his questions burning in him. He was perplexed by the regret, knowing that she couldn't have known him as anything other than an enemy.
And the guilt.
She'd slammed aside that emotion almost before he could have noticed it, but she could tell it bothered him. He had no idea why she ought to feel guilt about Jazz. Worry was beginning to pulse from the medic. They hadn't heard from the spec ops mech for vorns.
Had she killed him? Primus, he didn't know if he could handle knowing her to be responsible for the termination of so many of his dearest-
Just as soon as Ratchet started thinking along those lines, he cut himself off, feeling a spark-wrenching, overwhelming recollection of self-loathing and guilt from the femme whose mind he was currently sharing. Terabyte bit hard on her glossa, snapping up her battle mask and venting hard as she devoted her full energies and focus to holding back the multitude of faceplates that haunted her recharge.
Regret, pain, and apology washed over her from the medic, a nearly incomprehensible string of panicked thought as he tried to repair the damage of his unrestrained thought.
She cut him off gently, the feelings being nothing new to her. She had done horrible things in the name of both vengeance and of a cause that was nothing more than an intricate lie. It was something she would have to live with. On both sides of this accursed war, every mech had committed atrocities, and every mech had to live with that pain.
It was nothing new.
You need not apologize, Ratchet. Terabyte sighed heavily, physically and mentally, in an attempt to stabilize the whirlwind of her own mind and of Ratchet's. And it may comfort you to know that I did not offline Jazz. So far as I am aware, the mech is alive and well to this day, causing trouble for Decepticon forces elsewhere in the cosmos.
Her mental tone was icy and detached, her thoughts now carefully held in check, emotions relatively masked from the medic's awareness, allowing the distracted mech to return part of his attention to the slave codes he was attempting without success to remove.
Yes, I knew Jazz. Our history is... complicated, and a rather painful topic that I would prefer not to speak of.
But- how? Why? The guilt? The medic growled at himself for being a nosy glitch, causing the faintest of smiles to touch the small femme's expression. Nevermind, I won't pry.
The navy and black femme looked down into her lap, a sour taste on her glossa as she watched the dull glow of scarlet cast from her optics and biolights. The guilt is an old guilt, a guilt attached to my loyalties as a Decepticon. He... is a very skilled special operations mech.
In spite of her best efforts, the anger in her spark was still very plainly felt, and the medic didn't push any further. Not long after, he gave up on the slave codes for this session and pulled out of her processors.
"I can reset your internal lighting to its original color." Ratchet said quietly, almost whispering, like he was afraid that mentioning it would cause the bottled anger he felt inside her to manifest itself. "If you would like."
Terabyte glanced up as Optimus stepped into the room, most likely to check up on her progress. She was down to just one dose of sedatives a day now. It had been almost two months now since their escape from the Nemesis; one of those months she'd spent on medical leave. No doubt she owed her rapid recovery from addiction to Skyquake's insistence on hastening her withdrawal process and pushing her to her limits.
She was grateful.
Her protoform was still heavily bruised, and she was nearly half the weight a healthy Cybertronian of her frame and size ought to be, her energy reserves still depleted, leaving her easily exhausted. Ratchet insisted she recharge every rotation, following the humans' sleep cycle, which to her seemed like an absurd waste of precious time in which she could be being more productive, yet recharge came easy every night.
Unfortunately, the same could not be said of how well she stayed in recharge. Her nightmares came frequently, often leaving the femme sitting up awake at night, vents heaving, spark aching.
"No thank you, Ratchet." Terabyte replied firmly, "They serve to remind me of the evils I am capable of, a constant reminder to prevent my ever allowing such raging lust for revenge as dwells within me from ever controlling me again."
The Prime's engine rumbled in slight disapproval, and his cobalt optics held hers with that spark-piercing gaze that the Matrix gave him, that calming, authoritative aura of power radiating from him. Though still perturbed by how the Matrix seemed to lay her spark out bare to the mech, it comforted her to know that the Prime truly was back.
"Terabyte, I believe you are right, in part." Her spark fell and she felt her frame wilt slightly in shame, in spite of her efforts to maintain a stiff posture. The Prime continued, "It often does one well not to forget what they are capable of. Every bot possesses a natural inclination and ability for committing atrocities."
"Optimus-" Ratchet started to object as he watched the femme sitting on the berth, her armor gradually deflating and pressing into her malnourished protoform, making her appear pitifully tiny.
"However, I disagree with your methods." The Autobot leader continued, his tone softening as he crossed the distance between them, setting a large hand on her shoulder, causing her to lift her downcast gaze towards him, "You are not a monster for the things you have done, Terabyte. Nor are you defined by your past. No more than I, or any other bot."
"You have always fought for what you know in your spark is right, I believed that of you when first we met on opposite sides of the battle, a decavorn past, and I believe that of you today." The Prime sat down beside her, his optics gentle and his EM field washing over her with the soothing, healing strength of his own spark and the Matrix within him.
Her pinned-back finials perked up minutely, flicking and spreading out subconsciously seeking to absorb the waves of calming energy flowing from him. She knew his presence didn't always feel like this, that he was utilizing the Matrix to comfort her, and she smiled.
She was beginning to understand what Bumblebee meant when he spoke of Optimus as a father to them.
"There comes a time when it is best to leave the past behind us, to leave the reminders of our failings behind and allow ourselves to heal, and to become better from our mistakes, rather than holding ourselves in a state of brokenness." He held such a wisdom in his optics, the wisdom of many lifetimes.
The weariness in his optics had not returned though. Everything else from his Primehood had returned, but the weariness had been replaced with a burning hope that lifted her spark every time she looked into those piercing optics.
Terabyte pondered his words thoughtfully, understanding the words, but struggling to allow her stubborn processors to accept them as true.
"It is my experience that doing what is right is easiest when our thoughts are focused on doing what is right, rather than on not doing what is evil."
She nodded, that last statement bringing everything else together in her mind. She frowned minutely, then said quietly, "The future is far brighter than the past, so long as we do not attempt to drag the past into it along with us."
Having listened to their conversation in silence up until this point, Ratchet nodded in approval from where he stood behind his Prime and his young femmeling. He was a fool to doubt Optimus' wisdom after so long. Comming for Jetfire to join him in the med-bay, he began prepping his tools for the procedure, which was admittedly a bit more complicated than he'd implied. Changing optic color was not so easy a process as changing her paint-job.
He had a feeling it would do them all well to have this particular reminder removed from their lives. And it would bring back the confidence this little femme had nearly eradicated from herself.
A Week Later
A curly red-haired woman of about twenty-five years pulled up in front of the elementary school, clad in black jeans, a navy t-shirt, and a simple gold chain around her neck, matching the bracelets on her wrists. A pale, jagged scar cut across her left cheek from below her unnaturally bright gold eye to the top of her dainty lips.
She parked her sharply angled, three-wheeled motorcycle and stood up, shaking out her pony-tailed hair and stretching her small frame. Her gold eyes, sharp features, and slightly pointed ears gave her a distinctly elven appearance that drew the awed gazes of several children passing by.
Terabyte however paid them no mind as she searched for her young friend, the little blond one that seemed to read her like a book. She was exhausted, and it wouldn't be long before Ratchet discovered where she had escaped to, but she needed to make sure that the child was still safe.
"Terabyte!"
She turned her holoform to the one who'd called her name and she smiled fractionally, her eyes brightening. "Good cycle, Raf."
The boy grinned up at her, pushing his red glasses up, then running up and touching her handlebars briefly in greeting as well as hugging her holoform. He looked excited at first, but as his questions progressed his expression grew concerned, "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to stay at home, recovering?"
His worried expression once again washed fond memories of her younger sibling through her mind and spark, causing a sharp pang to shoot through her spark, somehow reopening the old wound of his absence as well as healing it with their similarity.
"I will be fine, Raf." Terabyte answered, still glancing around for her other human friend. "I simply came to see a-"
A little girl, perhaps five years younger than Rafael, squealed with joy and burst in, politely pushing past the boy to hug her tightly, blond braids bouncing as she giggled. "Ms. Byte!"
Terabyte laughed softly, fondly hugging the child back. "Hello, Taia."
Raf watched their interaction, his round brown eyes wide in surprise and confusion clear on his fleshy face. The gentle wind ruffled through his spiked hair and over-sized sweater. "Uh… Tera? I thought Op- our study group was supposed to be secret?"
She smiled a little wryly at that, extricating herself from the blonde girl's embrace, "She found me on her own. Raf, this is Taia. Taia, Raf."
The boy waved shyly at the girl, and she waved back happily, holding Terabyte's holoform hand. The girl looked up at her, the bright grin twisting into a pouty rebuke, "You're still being your fake you, I like the other one better. And you look really, really tired."
"Come, Taia, Raf, we ought to discuss this somewhere perhaps more private, since your hours of education are complete." Terabyte swung her holoform's leg over her seat, sticking Taia on her lap and gesturing for Raf to sit behind her.
She revved her engine, and once all passengers were secured, the femme drew in her kickstand and drove out in the direction of her forest hide-out. Taia shrieked in excitement as they sped along, while Raf hung on tight to her holoform.
About five minutes later, she helped her young riders disembark, then dissolved her holoform and transformed with a series of clicks and clangs that were still a bit louder than healthy. She sat down cross-legged on the forest floor and soon after the two children did as well.
Raf opened his mouth to speak, shoved his glasses up on his face, then started again, "D-does Optimus know…?"
Terabyte shook her helm minutely. She was about to reply when Taia giggled, bouncing up and down in her spot, unable to contain herself as she grinned at Raf. "This is so cool! You know about 'em too!"
"It is pretty cool, isn't it?" Raf agreed, the younger child's excitement almost contagiously spreading to him.
Taia sobered, tilting her helm at Terabyte, the smiling and nodding as though satisfied with what she saw, "You're really, really tired now, and your eyes are still sad inside. But not so sad as they were before."
The girl lit up again, "Oh! Oh! That means you saw all the purple fire and lightning and giant rock-men last year! No one else believes that I saw the giant rock-men, but they were there, I know it! Did you see 'em too?"
Raf and Terabyte both barely had time to nod before the young girl piped up with more questions, "Oh, and that gunfire! I know it was gunfire, that made you run away, was anyone hurt by it? Can I meet your friends? How come you haven't come to see me in so long?"
She laughed at the girl's worried enthusiasm and obvious excitement, though when she spoke in answer to the questions, her tone was serious. "The gunfire you saw hit a friend of mine, as well as Raf-"
"Wow!" Taia jumped up and ran over to the slightly older boy, inspecting him more closely for some sign of injury, peering into his face and poking him a little bit as though to make sure he was actually there, "I didn't think anyone could get shot like that. Are you okay? Did it hurt lots and lots?"
The boy ran a hand through his spiky hair and pushed his glasses up, hugging his ever-present laptop to his chest, a troubled expression on his face. He never talked about it much, but Terabyte still worried about him. His DNA readings were still not normal, and it bothered her far more than it seemed to bother Ratchet or Jetfire.
"Yeah, yeah it did." Raf rubbed his upper arm shyly, smiling and brushing aside the somber tone with a laugh, "But thanks to Terabyte and Ratchet and Jack's mom, I'm fine now."
The girl's face scrunched up when he agreed that it had hurt 'lots and lots', and the little girl gave him a hug, then ran up to the femme and clambered up to stand on her shoulder, holding onto her finial for support as she looked the two-wheeler over.
"You got really skinny since I saw you last."
"And your stature has increased significantly since last I saw you." She replied with a smile, touching the giggling girl's nose with the tip of her servo.
Taia poked her small fingers into the biolights along the side of her helm by her finials, causing Terabyte to flinch away with a stifled laugh at the tickling sensation of the fleshy touch on her most sensitive equipment. The girl simply hung tighter to her finial and laughed loudly, causing Raf watching them to laugh.
"You changed colors! Not just your skin, but your eyes too!" The young blond-haired child exclaimed with another giggle, running her hands over the femme's gold biolights and Prussian blue paint. "How do you even do that? I wish I could change my eye color whenever I felt like it!"
"These are her usual colors." Raf explained, choosing at last to join Taia in using her frame as a jungle gym, scrambling up her frame to sit on her other shoulder. "This is how she's supposed to be."
The girl regarded her carefully for a moment, then tugged a bit on the blue battle mask until Terabyte obligingly lowered it to show her face. Taia grinned, "I like it. It suits you."
Terabyte smiled softly, looking at the gold glow her optics cast on the girl with a warmth in her spark.
"So do I, Taia."
Next Rotation
"You're sure there's s'posed to be a pod around here?"
She stifled a moan, running her hand over her Prussian blue battle mask, gold joints glittering almost blindingly in the desert sun.
"Yes." Terabyte snapped, her patience with the large green Wrecker wearing very thin.
Bulkhead stretched and fluffed his armor out for a moment, shaking sand free from his joints with a grumble. She flicked a finial, snarling in annoyance as the blistering winds lodged more of the gritty stuff into her aching finials.
Beside her, Arcee huffed, "We could cover more ground if we split up."
The spy rolled her yellow optics, "Of this I am more than aware, and have been aware the last half dozen times you have seen fit to comment. The Prime ordered us to remain together so as to be prepared should the sleeper be less than asleep."
Tossing her glance up to where Skyquake circled lazily in the air above them, she felt a twinge of envy for the freedom he bore on his wings. Her spark seemed to draw her to the sky, her Energon singing with longing to feel the clean currents of air sweeping through her frame. She didn't dare open her vents to clear out the sand piled in them, in spite of their having been closed the whole time they'd been in this sandy wasteland.
"According to my calculations, the pod ought to be directly in front of us."
"Ought."
She shot the older femme a silencing glare.
Optimus had put her in charge of the mission again. Because her being in charge of the last sleeper mission had gone so well. After all, they had returned with Jetfire in their custody and considering defection. He was now a valuable assistant to Ratchet.
Terabyte pushed aside the burn in her spark.
How little the Prime knew of what had actually occurred in that mission. Of course, her report had been just as detailed as her standard was, however she saw little point in included personal details. Much had happened since then, months had come and gone. The pain of it hurt no less over time though.
Cliffjumper of course had no idea of how much his stinging words had hurt her. She'd been very particular on that point. He was not to see the pain he'd caused, and he was happy enough to leave it behind them. She wondered if she had yet regained his trust. The red mech's nonchalant attitude towards everything made it rather difficult to judge how he truly felt, though she knew she was a better judge than many.
His grin, while often genuine, was frequently just as much of a mask as the one she wore.
The femme, distracted by her thoughts, stepped in an indentation in the sands, sinking nearly half her frame in the hot sands. She bit back a snarl, then sighed heavily as the sand suddenly poured through her armor and into her gears. The gritty particles instantly started grinding into her still weaker than normal protoform and Terabyte growled.
"Slagging san-" She cut herself off and cocked her helm with a small frown, shifting her buried pede a little, inadvertently sinking herself another foot into the sand.
She hummed softly, a pleased rumble rising from her chest as her pointed foot felt something solid beneath it. Wriggling a bit more, she buried herself a couple more inches to stand firmly on the pod.
"Found it." Terabyte announced with satisfaction. Now all there was to do was to figure out how to get the pod up. She could practically feel the cold coolant shower already, clearing out and sooth her abraided protoform.
Arcee crouched down beside her, smirking at the smaller two-wheeler, buried almost to her shoulders in the hot desert's shifting earth. "If Cliff were here, he'd have so much fun with this."
The deep, deafening rumble of jet engines filled their audials and the whole desert seemed to stir up in a whirlwind of scorching sand around them, making all three of them shutter their optics and cover their audials to keep it out as much as possible.
A rumbling chuckle cut through the swirling sand in the air and Terabyte felt an abrupt relief from the blistering sun as she was enveloped in the massive shadow of his wings. A large servo poked her helm side to side, then up and down.
"Now's no time to have our helms in the sand, Terabyte." Skyquake said, his gravelly voice sounding nearly serious.
She smiled behind her mask, tilting her helm back to look up at him, rolling her gold optics, drawling, "I had a sinking feeling you would say something like that."
The green jet grinned at her, "You're quite good at falling into situations like this."
"No need to dig up the past now, Skyquake." Terabyte replied, not skipping a beat. She'd missed their random interactions like this. Duty had kept her away for far too long, she was glad to be back. To be home.
He clicked his glossa at her, shaking his helm fondly, amusement gleaming in his ruby optics, "Are you sure you don't need help? You've just really got yourself in up to your neck struts this mission."
"Like pit, I need your help." She snorted derisively, grinning widely behind her Prussian blue mask and squirming uncomfortably in her predicament
Arcee cleared her vents loudly, the older femme drily saying, "Hate to interrupt such a deep conversation, but we've got a mission to get on with."
All three of them cracked up, laughing at the serious tone she used. Eventually though Bulkhead started shifting from pede to pede, "Seriously guys, she found the pod. Let's dig the thing up and go home."
Skyquake shut off the small stabilizing thrusters slash makeshift sandblowers on his forearms, bending down to wipe away the sand encrusted on the plexiglass front of the pod. His engine growled lowly as he and Bulkhead heaved the pod out of the unstable sandy ground, sinking themselves just about as much as they raised the pod as the sands shifted.
With several more such attempts, the two mechs got the pod up onto level ground and the green jet glared at the pod with another growl.
"Skyquake? What is it?" Terabyte asked him, tone holding the formal detachment of mission leader once again.
"See for yourself."
He stepped aside to give her space to get up on her tip-toes and peer into the stasis pod. The jet watched her gold optics narrow as she too glared at the stasis-locked monochrome face looking back at her through unseeing optics. Even in that unconscious state the mech seemed to be leering at her.
If there was any such a thing as fate, it had a cruel sense of humor.
"It would seem that the universe is indeed a small place." Her little engine rumbled in displeasure as she commed Ratchet, "We have recovered the objective, send a ground bridge, Ratchet. And tell Cliffjumper to prepare the brig."