Author's Notes: I was afraid I wouldn't get this chapter out this week, but I somehow managed to work past the interruptions to get this thing finished. Yay! I'm happy with how this chapter turned out, and hopefully you guys like it too. Sorry I haven't been posting as much as I used to. Work has been rough. Anyway, thank you for reading, reviewing, and following :)
Chapter 5
Scared Crooked
"I told you already Prowl, I don't know!" Mirage screamed in frustration at the mech that was interrogating him, "You have the wrong guy! I didn't send a transmission to the Decepticons and I don't know who did."
"Part of your story makes sense," Prowl conceded as he steepled his digits over the table, "I don't think you have the processor to coordinate the theft of our most valuable weapon by yourself. You would have to get past the medbay, Wheeljack's lab, and the security vault to get to the ionic destabilizer. I think you were working for someone else on board the Ark, someone with a greater motive than yours and a plan that was completely idiot proof. Lucky for him, too."
Mirage fumed from his side of the table. He couldn't believe he had been let out of his cell just to sit at a table for hours in a small secluded room staring at Prowl's cold blue optics and answering the same questions over and over again.
"Did I hit a sore spot?" Prowl asked with insincere concern, "I apologize. Perhaps you are just an ignorant unwitting pawn in another mech's bigger game."
"I know what you're trying to do," Mirage hissed through gritted denta, "You still think I did it and you want to bruise my ego to get me to talk. I've used the same technique before on Decepticon prisoners. Prowl, why can't you just believe me on this? I'm innocent! I am not covering up for anyone and I have no reason to lie. I would never betray my own people, so please just let me return to my room."
"Negative," Prowl replied in a clipped tone of voice, "If you are unwilling to talk to me then you will remain in the brig until you decide to come clean...or until your tribunal. You may think you can fool me, but there is no way you can fool Optimus Prime. We will get to the bottom of this."
"But I didn't do anything!" Mirage insisted desperately, "I was just checking out a noise I heard in the supply closet! The real traitor is still out there! We're wasting time here!"
"I will continue my investigation in case your words have merit," Prowl assured him in a less than friendly tone, "However, if I find that you are in fact guilty of selling us out to the Decepticons, then you would do well to have your affairs in order."
Prowl then motioned for Inferno and Hound to put Mirage back in the cell. Hound wore an apologetic look on his faceplate as he helped guide Mirage away. Mirage didn't blame Hound, and on some level he knew he shouldn't blame Prowl, but he couldn't help but be angry at that mech for not believing his word. Mirage wasn't a traitor, but that still left the blue and white noble wondering...who was?
Prowl returned to his office after finding no answers. He didn't believe Mirage acted alone in his sabotage. Mirage might've had the ability to turn invisible, but he didn't have the codes. Someone had to help Mirage get inside, but who?
The most obvious suspect was Jazz. Jazz was Mirage's direct superior in special ops, and that select group of only a few Autobots was like a family. Jazz was a very persuasive mech, and if he wanted to switch sides it would be easy to convince Mirage to join him. Question was had Jazz managed to get to any of the other special ops scouts? Prowl would have to interview Bumblebee, Hound, and Trailbreaker. Cosmos was also technically a scout, but he was in terrible condition and wouldn't be able to answer any questions for a while.
Then there was the question of Perceptor and Red Alert. Were they innocent? Prowl wanted to believe so. After all, Perceptor had access to most of their best technology. Only Ratchet and Wheeljack had more access than Perceptor when it came to practical knowledge, and even then Perceptor was smarter than them on a scholarly level. Prowl also wanted Red Alert to be innocent because he was a fellow skeptic and a great chief of security. They weren't friends, but Prowl still respected Red Alert's work ethic.
And then there was Jazz. Again his thoughts went back to the chief saboteur. Saboteur was literally in his name for crying out loud! Jazz could do this so easily, but Prowl knew his spark would take a while to recover if it turned out to be true. Jazz was one of his only friends, one of the only mechs willing to put up with the uptight SIC.
Prowl didn't know who was responsible, and worse yet, no answer he found would be the answer he wanted. He wanted everyone to be innocent. He wanted it all to be a misunderstanding. He knew it wasn't though. He knew someone was committing a terrible crime against their own kind, and he was sure that Mirage was the lynchpin to this entire case.
A sudden beep from Prowl's feedback terminal jolted the Datsun from his thoughts. He couldn't believe his luck. After only a few hours without contact, the mole was communicating with the Decepticons again!
Prowl rushed to his desk and sat down. This time he was ready. He knew there was a 7.24 percent chance of this happening, so he had prepared. There was a translation screen hooked into his feedback terminal, and it would format everything said in the communications into a text file format. Prowl wished he could hear what was being said so he could identify the voice, but in this instance he would take what he could get.
The translator didn't know who was who, so it formatted the text into Mech One and Mech Two segments. Prowl waited anxiously for the communication to finish. He had made a mistake in arresting Mirage right away, but he wouldn't slip up again. This time he would use the words of the traitor as evidence against him, and perhaps even figure out which Decepticon was the outside contact.
After several agonizing minutes the comms were cut off and the file began to appear on Prowl's screen. At last he would know what had been said between the mole and the Decepticon contact.
Mech One: What do you want?
Mech Two: You promised us more information. You haven't been contacting us. You know how impatient Megatron gets.
Mech One: We've had a lot to deal with here. Not that it's any of your business, but Mirage was arrested. Prowl thought he was the traitor.
Mech Two: Oh that's good! Now they won't even be looking for you, and we can get as much intel as possible without interruption.
Mech One: Mirage is a good mech. He doesn't deserve to rot in the brig, not for something I did.
Mech Two: You better not be thinking about telling anyone! Remember, if you tell anyone about our little deal then our protection goes away. You know our new pet Trypticon has been chomping at the bit for a new chew toy. Now we wouldn't want to disappoint Trypticon, would we?
Mech One: You better not!
Mech Two: We won't have to...If you give us what we want. Now, what new inventions can you tell us about?
Mech One: I don't know anything yet. I'll uh...I'll let you know.
The transmission was cut off there, but Prowl had a bigger picture of what was going on just from that little bit of info. The Decepticons had a new team member named Trypticon. That name meant nothing to Prowl, so he would ask Optimus if that name held any significance. Whoever it was the mole was scared; scared enough to give the Decepticons anything they wanted to avoid being killed by it.
Prowl paced the room and thought about which suspects fit that description. Perceptor and Red Alert were still the two most likely culprits. Perceptor had actually admitted during his interrogation how much he hated fighting on the front lines. He complained that he was a mech of science rather than war. Perhaps he felt his combat skills would not suffice to save him from this Trypticon individual, so he agreed to help the 'Cons in exchange for mercy.
Then there was Red Alert. Fear was a great motivator for the security chief. Paranoia was his zen mantra and night terrors were his lullabies. He lived by fear and would likely die by fear as well, but was he afraid enough to betray everything he stood for just to avoid Trypticon?
Jazz seemed a little less likely in this scenario. Even without a voice Prowl knew those words didn't sound like Jazz. Sure, he would also defend Mirage, but he wouldn't be afraid of a new Decepticon or allow himself to be talked down to like that. In short, Jazz was no coward, and it seemed that now Prowl was searching for a coward.
He would have to investigate further into this, but in the meantime he needed to free Mirage from the brig. It was a risk to show support for Mirage with the real traitor possibly watching, but Prowl couldn't leave a friend to rot in a cell when he was clearly innocent. Prowl just hoped he could figure out the real identity of the traitor before the Decepticons learned something crucial.
Cosmos slowly came online, his entire body in pain from the forced transfer of new parts and barely circulating energon. He blearily looked up to see several faces staring down at him; all yellow and grey with big sharp toothy grins.
"Ah! I'm in The Pit!" Cosmos shrieked before his vision cleared and he could see what was actually in front of him, "Oh, hello Dinobots. Heh heh..."
"You Cosmos got slagged," Grimlock told him, "Him Swoop say you Cosmos got ripped inside out."
"Yes well, I certainly feel it," Cosmos sighed haggardly.
"Him Blaster say he come here in a few minutes," Swoop informed Cosmos, "Him bring cassettes too."
"Um, okay," Cosmos replied nervously due to the close proximity of the Dinobots to him.
"Ah, Cosmos. I see you're awake," Ratchet commented as he walked over to the berth, "You gave us quite a scare. We thought we'd lost you."
"So I've been told," Cosmos winced, "So, um, to what do I owe the honor of a visit from the Dinobots?"
What Cosmos really wanted to ask was why those vicious spark eaters were staring down at him like he was a snack, but he didn't want to say anything that would offend those bloodthirsty monsters. Cosmos, like most of the minibots, was afraid of the Dinobots and saw them as little more than talking animals.
"Swoop has been worried sick about you," Ratchet explained, "He hasn't left your side for a moment. He's even asked if he can be properly trained as a field medic to avoid future incidents."
"A field medic?" Cosmos asked, trying not to sound as skeptical as he felt, "That's, um, super. Yes, good idea, Swoop."
"Alright then, Cosmos needs his rest and you guys are bothering him," Ratchet shooed the Dinobots away, picking up on Cosmos' unease, "You need to go back to your room now. I'm very busy."
"Yes, and Blaster should be here soon," Cosmos added, "We need to discuss something important and top secret. It was nice seeing you guys though."
"But we Dinobots no get story yet!" Grimlock complained.
"Um...story?" Cosmos asked obliviously.
"Yeah, him Wheeljack in lab, and we no get story," Sludge sulked, "Ratchet, will you tell us Dinobots story?"
"Yeah, him Cosmos will feel better with story too!" Slag added, though only so he could convince Ratchet.
"Oh for crying out-!" Ratchet grumbled, but the Dinobots weren't budging and it seemed he wasn't getting out of this, "Fine, one story. Then you leave."
"Yes, Ratchet," Swoop nodded compliantly.
"Alright then, so what kinds of stories does Wheeljack usually tell you?" Ratchet asked, having never had to do story time with the Dinobots before.
"Him Wheeljack tell us epic adventures with our toys!" Grimlock exclaimed excitedly.
"Uh, that maybe not good idea right now," Slag said sheepishly, "Me Slag Eat Megatronus Barbie and Omega Supreme Pizza Box..."
"That's alright," Ratchet replied quickly, "I'm not much for toys anyway. So, what kind of story would you like to hear from me?"
The Dinobots all looked at each other, but nobody seemed to have any idea of what to do without Wheeljack around to come up with an adventure for them. Grimlock liked war stories, but Ratchet was a medic. What kind of epic tales could he have? Swoop would probably want to hear about Ratchet's medical tales, but he didn't want his brothers to be bored. It seemed like an impasse.
"Actually Ratchet, there is something I've always been curious about," Cosmos piped up, and Ratchet turned to regard him, "Well, it's actually about you and Wheeljack. You see, um...how do I put this? You two seem so different. You fix things, and he breaks things. He's an extrovert, and you're an introvert. People fear you, but they fear Wheeljack's inventions. So I guess what I want to know is...why are you two best friends?"
"Ours was a friendship forged in fire," Ratchet recalled; his tone melancholic, "The truth is I wasn't always such a cynic, and Wheeljack wasn't always the chipper mech everyone knows today."
"Tell us that story," Swoop requested, "How did you Ratchet meet him Wheeljack?"
"Well...I'm not sure you're old enough to hear this," Ratchet wavered, "It's pretty gruesome, actually."
"You're worried about their sensitivities?" Cosmos asked sardonically, "The Dinobots are literal killing machines. I think they can handle a war story."
"Well, I suppose, but don't say I didn't warn you," Ratchet replied as he wagged his finger at Cosmos, "Anyway, this story starts in the early days of the conflict, back when the Decepticons weren't so much an enemy faction as they were a scattered group of terrorists. The ordinary people didn't realize the scope of the danger, but the council was very concerned about the threat Megatron posed to the Autobot way of life."
Ratchet then pulled up a chair and sat down next to Cosmos' berth so he could get more comfortable for the rest of the tale. The Dinobots all sat down on the ground surrounding Cosmos' berth and looked at Ratchet with the expectation of small children.
"There were a few murders of important intellectual mechs that had been favored by the council," Ratchet continued, "Megatron felt the best way to cripple the Autobots was to recruit what educators and scientists he could, and then kill the ones he couldn't, thus setting back Cybertronian knowledge by millennia. He killed Rung, Star Ranger, and even Alpha Trion's own sparkmate Beta. Soon the council decided that until Megatron was captured and executed that they would have to hide the most brilliant minds on Cybertron in a small town no one had ever heard of. Of course everyone knows the infamous name now: Simfur."
"I remember that," Cosmos interjected, "Simfur was just an outpost, and nobody knew that was where the great thinkers and inventors were hidden until they had been slaughtered."
"Were you there too, Ratchet?" Snarl asked softly.
"Hah, pit no!" Ratchet laughed, "I wasn't anybody special back then. I was just a junior field medic that had joined the young Prime's cause to try to keep Cybertron a peaceful place. I still remember that mechs in my old neighborhood thought I was crazy. They said the council could handle the situation and I was just wasting my time."
"Boy were they wrong," Cosmos remarked.
"Indeed," Ratchet nodded sadly, "I still remember the controversy over sending the scientists away to one place. There were some that refused to go. I remember Perceptor was the most vocal opponent of the idea. He said gathering all of the educators, artisans, and inventors in one location was just going to make them a bigger target. He managed to convince a few others, like Grapple and Brainstorm. Still though, over a hundred mechs and femmes heeded the council's orders and went to Simfur."
Ratchet stopped for a few seconds then. He heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose cone. It was a time he didn't want to remember, but it was too late to turn back now.
"I remember Optimus getting the call from Simfur's guard unit," Ratchet continued, his voice more strained than before, "They had been ambushed by so many Decepticons from both the ground and the air. It was their most brazen attack up to that point. The guard survived long enough to get the message out, but he was dead along with the others when we got there. I was sent along with the rest of the medical team and a few security officers to protect us. It proved to be unnecessary though. The 'Cons were gone, and they had left devastation in their wake. I still remember the hardened molten metal of buildings. The dried energon splattered on the ground and parts strewn about with reckless abandon. It was the first massacre I had ever seen, and I'm not proud to admit I purged my fuel tank twice."
"I can't believe you saw the Simfur killing field," Cosmos whispered in sickened awe, "I remember it was all over the news broadcasts. So many innocent lives lost..."
"I searched for hours with the rest of the medical team for survivors," Ratchet sighed, "The area was hot where so many incendiary blasts had melted the landscape. Everything smelled of overheated steel and titanium. I had just about given up hope of ever finding survivors or even getting out of that place with my sanity intact, when I stubbed my pede on a body and it groaned. I was ecstatic! Someone was still alive! I turned the victim over and saw that the injuries weren't fatal, and I quickly figured out why. This mech had the hardest armor shielding of any scientist I had ever seen. Most mechs of the intellectual castes had soft lightweight comfortable armor, but the armor on this mech could've withstood a 4 megaton blast! Even his face mask was reinforced! Of course now I know why, given Wheeljack's explosive tendencies. Back then though I knew, that armor was the only thing that had saved that mech's life."
"Wheeljack?" Cosmos asked incredulously, "Wheeljack was a survivor of Simfur?"
"Not a survivor, the survivor," Ratchet corrected him, "Wheeljack was the only one who lived through the massacre, and I was determined to keep it that way. I repaired every injury myself, and checked on him every 5 breems. When he woke up a few joors later he was withdrawn and quiet. It took two orns before he would even tell us his name. I can still remember him sitting in the corner of the room on his berth watching the world go by, yet never participating. I was quite the idealist back then, and I was determined to get Wheeljack back on his pedes."
"Him Wheeljack was depressed?" Sludge asked, trying to digest the foreign concept.
"Yes, and it wasn't helped by what happened next," Ratchet recalled as if it were happening in real time, "Perceptor joined the Autobots, but he was just so smug about being right about Simfur. I ground my denta every time he told Prime 'I told you so'. I was afraid that a blowhard like Perceptor would only make Wheeljack worse, so I made sure that little red microscope wasn't even allowed in the recovery room. I worked with Wheeljack for deca-orns trying to get him to open up. I tried asking him about his research, but Wheeljack didn't even want to talk about science after what had happened to him. So, we settled for small talk. I asked him how he liked staying in the recovery wing, and somehow that turned into us talking about every place we'd ever been to. Apparently Wheeljack was quite the traveler before I met him. When I learned that I found pictures of exotic places in travel data pads and compiled a list of them for him. Wheeljack and I would talk all the time about the places he wanted to go to after the war was over, not realizing that the war would ravage our world the way it has."
"Him Wheeljack never talk about old life on Cybertron," Slag commented, "Him always tell us how great earth is, and how we lucky to be earth-modes. Him say dinosaurs am awesome and we am awesome for being dinosaurs."
"That sounds like Wheeljack," Ratchet replied with a wan smile, "He's the type that doesn't like to look back. He'd rather focus on his latest project or his latest idea or whatever his friends are doing. He doesn't hold a grudge. In fact, I never told you what finally got him back into science."
"What was it?" Swoop asked curiously.
"If you can believe it, it was Perceptor," Ratchet chuckled, "I tried so hard to keep that egomaniac away from Wheeljack that when Perceptor finally met Wheeljack in the rec room Wheeljack had no idea who he was! Perceptor was griping about how the Autobots just didn't understand his genius and how his efforts to protect everyone were being ignored. Wheeljack, rather than get offended, simply asked to see Perceptor's work in action. Perceptor, finding out Wheeljack was a famous inventor, was only too happy to oblige. From there Wheeljack had managed to make yet another friend. I suppose they were both hurting in their own way, and they managed to help each other...just like Wheeljack and I managed to help each other."
Ratchet then stood up and placed the chair back next to the wall where he found it.
"You know it's funny," Ratchet said with a fond smile, "I feel so old now. It feels like everything has changed over the eons, including me. I'm not the eager young medic I used to be, and yet Wheeljack is one thing in my life that hasn't changed. His scientific method is still haphazard and dangerous, his attitude is still open and enthusiastic, and his experiments still scare me sometimes. It's a comfort to know he's always going to be the same old Wheeljack when everything else is changing all around me. I just wish I could be the same mech Wheeljack befriended in the first place."
Ratchet then walked away to his office to do who-knows what, leaving Cosmos and the Dinobots staring off after him.
"How him Ratchet different?" Sludge asked, not getting the gist of the story.
"The war changed all of us," Cosmos explained, "Before all of this started I never would have carried a gun, and now I panic if I don't have it with me. There are a lot of people in the Autobots that would have never been soldiers without the war. Blaster would probably be a DJ or a choreographer or something. I would probably still be a delivery mech. Prime would have never left the docks and remained a simple laborer. Wheeljack would be world famous and have a shelf full of awards. There's no telling what Cybertron would be like if Megatron had never ruined everything."
"What would we Dinobots be?" Grimlock asked hopefully.
"Um, you, uh...you wouldn't exist," Cosmos reluctantly told him, "Wheeljack and Ratchet made you for combat. If there was no war, then we never would've come to earth, and then Wheeljack would've never had the idea to make you in the first place."
"So...We Dinobots would be nothing if there was no war?" Grimlock asked disappointedly, "Then what can we Dinobots be after the war?"
"There be no after!" Slag contested, "War happen for millions of years! It not go away, and we be great Decepticon crushers forever!"
Grimlock felt that this logic was sound and conceded the point. Swoop however wasn't so sure. He knew medics would be needed even after the war ended, but now he had a new worry. What would his brothers become if they weren't allowed to fight anymore?