Fun In the Sun
AN: THANK YOU GIRAFFECHAN and RAP BEAR FOR YOUR CONTINUED PATRONAGE!
If you want sneak peeks and access to exclusive polls, come join me over at PAT RE ON (all one word). The more the crazier… I mean, merrier! :D (innocently whistles)
AN2: Something crazy that popped into my head out of no where. It's strange how such mundane things can be a wealth of possibilities and random inspiration.
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Ratchet knew something was off as soon as he entered the med bay. Everything appeared in place. Spotless. Ordered. Neat. Basic tools lying innocently on trays. His most delicate, and favorite tools were always kept on his person he so would lose them to Lamborghini mischief.
He studied the darkened area.
When the medbay wasn't in use, the lights were off to conserve energy, only flickering on when sensing movement. Ratchet stood framed in the door, staring out at the cold, dark, metal tomb.
His circuits itched.
Struck by inspiration, Ratchet checked the door logs. The last time the door was accessed was when he left the previous evening. He checked the back up logs just in case the main had been tampered with. Wouldn't be the first time there were Lambo interference.
It verified the first statement.
The med bay doors had remained closed through the evening and night. No one entered. And there was no one receiving treatment so that meant no one to exit.
So, why did he feel as if something was off?
Consigned to the mystery, Ratchet entered his medbay and activated the lights and began cataloguing supplies and generating a shopping list for parts and recreation.
Some of the requests were outlandish, as there was no reason for an Autobot to have a 'modified muffler to make more noise.'
He wondered if his teammates even understand what 'muffler' meant. It was counterproductive to call an amplifying device a 'muffler.'
Rather like using a megaphone to enhance your whisper to a scream.
Racing tires seemed to be recreational but Ratchet knew they were also needed for the faster models. Two in particular went through tires like they were going out of style, as the humans like to say.
Ratchet breezed through work, tended to the odd injury, Wheeljack losing another body part and requiring reattachment procedures and lengthy lecture. The inventor merely took it in stride, waiting until Ratchet put his hand back on.
Though Ratchet was devious and kept the pain receptors on and deactivated basic motor control. Wheeljack would be hindered during the next few days from tinkering with projects and causing further damage.
A lot of his projects require delicate work and he was unable perform such things while healing. And potentially blew off the same part again.
Once finished, the duo exited medbay, Ratchet turning off the lights and escorting his long time friend to the rec room for much needed fuel and rest. Also the threat of attempting to work on a project during healing time would result in Wheeljack having his servo permanently grafted between his aft plates.
Ratchet totally forgot about the unease he felt that morning as laughter and friendship filled the atmosphere.
He was reminded of it early the next morning.
Standing on the threshold of his domain, he knew something was wrong. He practically lived in the medical ward. He knew when something was amiss. It vibrated with its own energy, and lately, that energy had been off.
There was a natural flow about the place, something Ratchet could sense, even before he entered the metal chamber of healing and torture. He was ruler of this domain. He knew when a single atom was out of place.
Some may think him crazy, and after spending so long around the mismatched, lung nut/ whackjobs he repaired daily (and was proud to call them family,) there was a high probability Ratchet had finally cracked his processor.
Only he knew he was of sound meta and spark.
Once again the entry logs showed no activity aside from Ratchet's own signature crossing the threshold.
What was even stranger, such feelings only ever occurred when medbay was unoccupied. Perhaps it was the strange anomaly of having no patients that made it weird, as most of the crew tend to self harm and require extensive treatments in the medbay, often times spending nights and weeks under Ratchet's care.
But the sense of foreboding… violation, unease, always happened when the place was empty.
Had Ratchet been a superstitious mech, he would have immediately guessed there were ghosts. Sadly, there had been a few sparks to extinguish in the medbay while the ship was under construction and the make shift treatment center was utilized during the ship's final construction phase. Two conduits blew, terminating several bots and injuring dozens more. The ARK had taken quite the beating before it even celebrated its maiden voyage.
And if Ratchet indulged in the fanciful, and flights of overactive imagination, he would have also bet the ship was cursed by those lost sparks. That they still lingered, haunting the halls and waiting, just around the corner, out of reach, at the corner of the optics, observing the living through a grey veil they no longer inhabited.
Ratchet was just about to pass off the feeling when he noticed something.
The hydraulic sling used to transport heavy patients wasn't where he left it the night before. It was three centimeters from the wall.
Now, most wouldn't have noticed such a thing, or passed it off as being natural for living in a ship partially buried in the side of an active volcano, but the ship was reinforced and though still partially buried, the insulating dampeners kept the ship stabilized. And strangely enough, kept the volcano from erupting further. As long as the ARK was stable, so was the magma chamber.
Three centimeters.
Ratchet catalogued the observation and began his day, quickly forgetting about the incident until the next morning.
One of his resonating spanners was upside down. The contraction appeared as it always did, rectangular, pale grey, six buttons, one knob, and two identical screens, one on 'top' the other 'bottom', though to the untrained eye, there was no difference.
But Ratchet's intuition knew.
Also, there was a tiny nick on the upper right hand corner of the casing. An unfortunately accident when the vibrating scanner dropped onto his own crotch plates.
That particular learning experience still made Ratchet blush.
Wondering what was going on, for there was no such thing as ghosts, and Ratchet knew it was outside forces, there would be a trace. There was always a trace. One just had to be smart enough to find it.
Since the medbay was basically a giant self contained unit, with blast shields and triple reinforcements to prevent injury to those already sick and injured, there was no way to gain access into the room other than the door. Ratchet blessed the engineers who designed/thought of such a precaution.
So that meant the door had to be tampered with.
Ratchet checked the feed and saw nothing other than his own visage leave he med bay…. Only, upon closer inspection…. He had a cracked windshield?
That can' be right.
Ratchet played the checked the door logs, then checked the security feed, courtesy of Red Alert, though only one camera was placed at the door as the security director didn't think patients were a threat and the infirmary wasn't much of a enemy target.
Not with an armory and fuel converter on the other side of the ship.
Ratchet squinted, staring at the small screen linked to his office consol. Sure enough there was a crack in the glass across his chest in the recording of himself that was supposed to be from the night before. He saw himself leave and everything resumed its dark, inert state.
Ratchet typed in the command for a diagnostic on the door long and his jaw nearly hit the floor.
Minute lettering. A time stamp.
Several million years outdated!
Which meant the camera was on a loop. It wasn't recording the true reality in front of its lenses. Which meant it was tampered with. No doubt by the only two idiots foolhardy to do such a thing.
But, to what purpose?
Ratchet couldn't think of a plausible reason why the two High Performance Idiots visited the medbay during late night hours.
It wasn't sentiment. And they rarely messed with Ratchet's tools, as they were as immaculate and placed exactly where he left them every evening. The more delicate tools he kept on his person, never knowing when a teammate was going to do something stupid, and require medical attention.
Certain tools the twins totally ignored, having enough respect and foresight to not damage or destroy the very things used to put them back together and keep them alive. The only tools Sideswipe messed with where basics like wrenches, hammers, and screwdrivers. And they were always still functional if not a little sticky or painted lurid colors. Sideswipes jokes were more veneer than anything of substance.
And it wasn't like either were nostalgic to the times they lay at death's door, guests of this very sterile, ugly aft orange environment.
One mystery solved. Another one presented.
Ratchet vowed to find out what had the twins returning to medbay long after everyone else was retired to their quarters.
After evening fuel and Jazz hosting a rambunctious block party that made Ratchet's head hurt, he pretended to retire but hurried toward medbay. A supply closet was down the hall, offering full view of the medbay door.
Ratchet settled in, glad he hadn't indulged in overcharging his systems, and dimmed his optics, waiting as a predator to pounce on prey.
Within ten minutes he was drifting into sleep mode, audios attuned to the sound of the door opening. He wasn't sure how long he was in such a state, but whispered voices drew him from power down mode. Optics narrowed, he watched through a crack in the door as the twins whispered between themselves, Sideswipe opening the door and with ease.
Ratchet waited five minutes, giving the twins time to immerse themselves in whatever mischief they indulged and approached the door.
He paused, frowning at a tiny black box resting on the control pad. A signal blocking device. Preventing the door mechanisms from registering the door opening and closing and resetting the log.
Clever.
Well, it was the twins. They weren't dumb, despite their occasional stupidity.
Silently Ratchet opened the door, stepping into the room and the semi darkness beyond. The lights were at half power over a couple of berths, one of which Sunstreaker was suspended via the hoist sling, a pulsating spanner resting between his shoulders as he waved his arms and legs in what appeared to be a swimming motion. The suspense harness moved along its trundle giving the golden mech the appearance of flying back and forth across the room.
Sideswipe was in a similar hydraulic sling, though his one ran the length of the room and had tracks between the berths. It was used for moving unconscious or unresponsive patients in root or alt mode. Sideswipe was currently sitting in the sling, kicking off from the wall and zipping down the length of the room to a giggle of delight.
Ratchet turned on the lights to full illumination, bellowing, "WHAT is going on here?"
Discovered, the twins jumped, rattling their harnesses and flopping uselessly, becoming entangled in the chains and brace plates. Both dangled, smiling innocently, suspended a good twenty feet.
"Oh, hi Ratch," Sideswipe said, cheeks darkening with pewter embarrassment.
The vibrating scanner fell off Sunstreaker, landing with a clatter and adding one more ding to its casing. Sunstreaker didn't even flinch.
"Oh, don't act like you never caught us doing something weird," Sunstreaker groused.
Ratchet shuttered his optics, trying to comprehend the insanity.
"What… are… you… doing?" he asked slowly, evenly, cycling deep breaths through his vents.
Sideswipe offered a one sided shrug that made the suspension chain rattle.
"Playing."
"Playing?" Ratchet asked, as if hearing a foreign word.
"Well, yeah," Sideswipe said while Sunstreaker growled, jostling the jangling chains that kept him suspected midair. He only succeeded in entangling himself further. "We saw commercials for human amusement parks, thought they'd b cool, but the rides were too small for us, so Sunny got a brilliant idea."
Sunstreaker paused long enough to send a dark thrum over the bond but it was quickly redirected to Ratchet, who was approaching the self-bondage golden mech.
"You've been coming in here and swinging on the hoisting equipment?" Ratchet asked flatly, his hand steady on Sunstreaker to aid him in escape.
"Only when its not occupied," Sunstreaker said, staring warily at Ratchet while he worked on the knotted hardness. It wasn't below the medic's nature to throttle a bot for doing something stupid. One always had to be on guard when Ratchet was around. "And only for an hour or two. Didn't want anyone to see us. It's… embarrassing."
One would have thought Ratchet would berate and scoff at the childish antics, but there was something strange in Ratchets expression as he helped free up Sunstreaker's arm.
"Well, I don't approve of using my equipment to play with, but I can certainly understand the fascination with the human concept."
"You… can?" Sunstreaker asked as his other arm came free. Millennia of knowing Ratchet and the medic still had the ability to surprise him.
"We don't have such things as amusement parks back home," Ratchet said, carefully extracting a thin anchor chain from Sunstreaker's waist that had become twisted around his main transformation seam. "And this human world offers so many varieties of entertainment. It's only natural you want to find something new and exciting."
"We only ever had the Pit and the pleasure houses," Sideswipe said, loosening his leg from its tangle of chains. "The fragging I didn't mind, and to an extent the fighting, but there's something.. .I don't know… freeing, about sailing through the air, pretending to fly."
"You have a jet pack," Sunstreaker reminded him
"Yeah, but it scorches my aft plates. This way I get the benefit without the burns," Sideswipe grinned. "Not to mention, it's safer than getting overenergized."
"You? Complaining about getting drunk?"
"Come on, Ratchet! Can't always drink to forget sorrows and fears. It's unhealthy for the systems." Sideswipe slipped in his harness, twisting around and giving him an upside down goofy aspect.
"You think this is childish?" Sunstreaker asked skeptically.
"You forget, I've seen you shove a pie in Prime's face, and shall we forget the thousand times you two have run around base stripped to your protoforms?" Ratchet countered. "Childishness comes in many forms and it's always the true intent behind it that determines if it was grossly immature, petulant, or in good fun. Remember, most of our forces are millions of years old, yet we get up early to watch Saturday morning cartoons."
Sideswipe's final tangle came free, dropping him unceremoniously onto the ground. "So, you're not mad at us?"
"Not thrilled with the idea you have been toying with specialized equipment, equipment I may add that has no spare parts and limited resources for fixable damage. Though I can understand the need to indulge in a little harmless fun, and don't think I'm not grateful for you cleaning up after yourselves, but if anything was seriously damaged, even by accident, it could mean the life or death of one of our friends."
The twins became crestfallen.
Ratchet sometimes wondered if they didn't lie about their age, for sometimes they appeared much younger than their proclaimed millennial number.
"I have noted similar recreational amusements the other Autobots are drawn to," Ratchet said, finally freeing Sunstreaker. He worked on untangling the chains before returning it to its proper place. "I think it might be wise to speak to Prime about having some land allocated for recreational purposes."
"Hey, we tried to get a race track installed, but Prowl wouldn't go for it." Sideswipe argued, straightening up the medbay exactly as he and Sunstreaker had found it.
"A race track is only feasible for 20% of our forces," Ratchet scolded, getting out the final kink and putting the heavy equipment back into its original location. "But some games and rides might be nice. Primus only knows our forces need some fun." He paused, glancing at the two miscreants. "Without getting overcharged every evening."
Sideswipe beamed maniacally.
"I have some ideas," Sunstreaker said, and there was a glint in his optics Ratchet learned the frontliner was scheming. It gave the medic a chill.
"OH?"
Sunstreaker extracted a small silver square from his subspace pocket and activated the holograph. And a cartoonish Starscream appeared… though it wasn't flattering for the jet. In fact, his features were augmented into something feminine, scandalous, and probably vulgar to the more prudish bots.
"Oh, that's just gross," Ratchet gasped, making a horrible face. "Do you have one of Megatron?"
"Have em all actually," Sunstreaker said, producing the scandalous and downright comical, but also terrifyingly creepy and gross renditions, much to the fascinated horror of Ratchet.
"We should put these in a fun house," Ratchet smirked at a buxom Soundwave wearing a blond wig and bright red lipstick on his overly puffy, cartoon lips. Sunstreaker was scarily detailed in his art, but so deviously talented. His imagination was the stuff of nightmares.
"Sunny's House of Horrors, has a nice ring to it," Ratchet put in.
For once, Sunstreaker didn't mind the dreaded nickname.
"He has animated versions as well," Sideswipe pointed out.
Ratchet actually blanched.
"That is so wrong." He stared, mesmerized and horrified by what he was seeing. "So what would be better for projection? Flat screen as if watching a movie, or employ a hologram to make it appear more 3D to traumatize everyone?"
"3D," the twins said in unison.
Sunstreaker activated a hologram and Ratchet made retching noises, waving at Sunstreaker.
"Don't show me that before power down! You'll give me night terrors!"
Sunstreaker offered a devilish smirk, causing Ratchet to involuntarily shiver. Slag, the mech was terrifying!
"Put your talent to good use and design a recreational area for everyone to enjoy," Ratchet said, gathering his ball bearings. "Now, get out my medbay and get to your berths. It's late and you have early shift!"
As petulant sparklings the twins slouched out of medbay, Ratchet following behind and closing the door. He took the signal box off the door control panel and handed it to Sideswipe with the air of an innocent co-conspirator.
Sideswipe tucked the hacking device in his subspace pocket and followed his twin back to their quarters. They were lying down on their berths, lights out, when Sideswipe spoke into the darkness.
"Wait, did Ratchet just send us to our room?"
"Yup," came Sunstreaker's reply before he powered down his systems for a long defrag.
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Despite being battle worn, aged, tough warriors.. the twins still act like kids… even being sent to their room {or brig} and not throwing a fit over the punishment.
Be sure to drop me a comment below and let me know what you think. Last week's chapter got a LOT of reactions.. all of them positive. So, THANK YOU ALL for your wonderful reviews and sharing in this lunacy.
