Yes, this is early. I will try to get as much of this story posted before school and real life slows my update schedule.
Note: I've decided to change my time measurements, just to make it easier on all of us. I've said before that I figured a cybertronian month would be roughly 8-10 decaorns. However, I haven't seen that confirmed anywhere. When I did some research I found that "Quartex" had never been truly defined and was only used once in "More Than Meets the Eye" part one. So, for the sake of convenience, I am going to co-opt that measurement. Thus, keeping with the construction of the word, from here on, a Quartex will arbitrarily be four decaorns.
Bluestreak's reaction to Prowl's new optic color was almost as enthusiastic as his reaction to the news that Prowl was going to take him to the med bay in the morning for an evaluation for his first frame upgrade. Jazz had likewise gotten a kick out of the youngling's reaction before taking his leave, but not before he too commented that Prowl's optic color was 'perfect' for him.
Prowl had released a short huff of air and replied that First Aid could take credit for that choice. Jazz had only laughed at that as well, though it was not a harsh sound. It had been friendly and warm, a sound that sent a pang through Prowl's CPU at remembering how this same mech had so recently torn through his processor…
Prowl pushed both the memory of the fragmentation and of the previous evening away as he walked toward the med bay, focusing instead on the youngling's excited chatter.
Ratchet, of course, was expecting them with First Aid at his side.
Apparently freed of his previous nervousness of the medic, Bluestreak bounded forward to stare up at Ratchet.
"Prowl said you are going to evaluate me for an upgrade. What type of upgrade? Will it be like the language download or will it be something else? Will I be bigger? I'm tired of being so small, but I guess it isn't that bad. You aren't going to make Prowl give up his energon this time, are you? What do you want me to do?"
Ratchet chuckled shortly, but cut it off into a coughing of his engine and pointed to one of the smaller berths. "Come up here. I'm just going to run a few scans for now. After that we'll figure out what type of upgrades you need."
"Alright." He started to comply then stopped, looking back at Prowl, who had stayed by the door.
Prowl could not mistake the silent plea in those young optics and stepped forward. Bluestreak reached for him and Prowl raised his hand to grasp the much smaller one. He then lifted Bluestreak to settle onto the berth
Clearly comforted by his guardian's presence, Bluestreak looked up at Ratchet and nodded. "I'm ready."
The scans lasted less than a breem and then Ratchet dismissed them, telling Prowl that he would contact him within a few orn to discuss their options. "In the meantime, First Aid and I are going to review these results."
Prowl hesitated, remembering Ratchet's initial distrust of his ability to care for Bluestreak's language update. "You will tell me if anything… abnormal… is found?"
The CMO's gaze snapped back to him in surprise that melted quickly into sharp chagrin. The medic's answer was not as biting as Prowl would have expected. "Of course I will, Prowl."
"Thank you." Prowl stated softly and then lifted Bluestreak to the ground.
"I want to know what's going on too." Bluestreak looked up at Prowl. "It's my frame that was scanned, I should know if anything wrong shows up and what type of upgrade I'm supposed to be getting. It isn't fair if I…"
"Of course I will keep you informed Bluestreak." Prowl assured, aware that both Ratchet and First Aid's gazes sharpened at the youngling's statement. A desire to assert one's authority over one's own frame was yet another sign of readiness for an upgrade. "You will also be included in any discussion about upgrades."
"You promise?" Bluestreak searched his now cobalt optics.
Prowl nodded solemnly, as if he were addressing the Prime rather than a youngling. "I do."
Bluestreak's entire countenance changed, relaxing with evident relief as if a great weight had been removed from his tiny doorwings. "Thank you, Prowl."
There was no question that Bluestreak had absolute faith that Prowl would do exactly as he said he would. It was a faith, Ratchet and First Aid realized, that the youngling had demonstrated since the first day Prowl had come to the med bay. Probably since the moment Prowl had rescued him from the rubble of Praxus. He had been the only one to trust Prowl at that point and they had feared the young one would come to harm because such trust was doubtlessly misplaced.
But Bluestreak had been right. Somehow he had seen what they had all missed, his innocently young spark untainted by the blinding, if justified, prejudice the adults had developed over nearly a decavorn of war. Ratchet knew he would be presenting his findings to both of them, not just Prowl.
"I think we might have a clue as to why he has matured mentally so quickly." First Aid murmured quietly as the door closed behind the two Praxians.
Ratchet glanced at his apprentice. "Trauma, such as what Bluestreak faced, if experienced after a crucial point in his development can have that effect. Which means Bumblebee might be delayed in his development because he was significantly younger. We have discussed this, First Aid."
First Aid nodded, not in the least put out by the snark in Ratchet's words. "I know. But Prowl treats him as if he were already more mature… nothing inappropriate or anything, but he doesn't really encourage immaturity."
Ratchet's narrowed optic shutters were a silent command to explain. First Aid cleared his vents, suddenly doubting his observations. Nevertheless, he was quick to answer. "Well, for example. Chromia said he let Bluestreak help paint him. How many of us would let a sparkling his age paint us? But by all accounts, Bluestreak enjoyed learning how to do it. Whatever Prowl did, he managed to help a youngling learn a task most of us would have thought beyond his abilities, and did so in a way that left the little one wanting to learn more. I hear he's asked Prowl to teach him to shoot."
Ratchet stared for a moment and then chuckled, beckoning First Aid to follow him into his office to review the data they had just collected.
… … …
This time Prowl approached the tactical command with a touch more confidence even if he was still unsure. He was confident in that he knew his function and he had an assignment to fulfill: brief Smokescreen on the newest developments concerning Megatron. His insecurity lay in that he was not entirely sure what to expect on the other side of the tactical command center's doors.
After taking a few strides away from Chromia's quarters he decided it would be best to comm. Smokescreen and notify him that he had important information he needed to report.
Smokescreen acknowledged that notification and told him he was in his office and to report directly there. It was said with the slightly distracted air of a mech doing multiple things at once.
As he had done the whole of the previous decaorn, Prowl stepped into the tactical command. center He was early for his shift, his stop at the med bay not having taken as long as he had anticipated, and only a few mechs were already at their stations. They looked up at his entry and, to a one, started at his altered appearance and then blinked as they registered his Autobot ID signal.
Suddenly feeling self-conscious at their blank looks, Prowl walked stiffly toward Smokescreen's office. He passed Trailbreaker's station as he crossed the chamber. As he drew near, the other mech spoke quietly, his tone carefully devoid of emotion.
"I see that they rewarded you well for that last mission."
Prowl paused, looking at the other tactician and then answered in an equally hushed tone with equal neutrality. "You believe it is too early?"
Trailbreaker huffed. "What's done is done, I guess. Don't expect the rest of us to just forget everything else."
Prowl considered the other Autobot for a long moment and then softened his own tone, forcing the defensiveness out of his stance. "I am not asking you to forget anything, Trailbreaker. Nor do I expect more trust than you are comfortable giving me."
Trailbreaker looked at him a moment longer and then the tense set of his armor softened a fraction and he nodded once before turning back to his consol.
Prowl continued to study him and then returned the gesture and continued toward Smokescreen's office. He was admitted immediately and could not help the strange sensation that always threatened to overcome him when he realized he was reporting to Smokescreen. Judging by the slightly unnerved look on his former apprentice's face, Prowl was not alone in that feeling.
Then Smokescreen's optics widened as he took in Prowl's new faction symbol and flicked up to search his now cobalt optics. Smokescreen stared almost as in disbelief and then he double-checked Prowl's faction ID signal and that was enough. A tiny smile, almost triumphant in nature, threatened the corners of the gray and white Praxian's lip plates as he stood.
Prowl had remained absolutely motionless during his department leader's inspection, finding himself inexplicably nervous as to what his former student's reaction might be.
Once he was standing directly in front of Prowl however, Smokescreen lost his battle with the happy grin that spread across his faceplate. "So, they finally turned you loose."
Prowl grimaced. "Hardly. I am still on probation as I am not trusted completely."
Smokescreen only snorted, not letting Prowl's pessimism dampen his sudden enthusiasm. "Eh. You're probably trusted more than you think." Then he suddenly smirked. "I like the new look by the way."
Prowl found he could relax a fraction and then found himself returning that smirk with one of his own. "I doubt you are alone in that."
Smokescreen let the moment of subdued humor hang between them then straightened subtly as he forcibly brought himself back to the business at hand. "You said that you had something urgent to report?"
"Yes." Prowl was instantly more serious as well. "Last orn, the Prime received a message from Megatron. He happened to be with me when he received the message and asked me to brief you on what it entailed. We now have cause to believe that he will attempt to retaliate."
Smokescreen was frowning, though he did not seem perturbed that Prowl had received this information first as Prowl had feared he might be. "We expected as much."
Prowl nodded. "Indeed. But his target has changed, at least for the near future. He knows I survived Praxus and he knows I have defected and he knows I am in Iacon."
"Barricade." Smokescreen hissed the words between clinched denta.
Prowl nodded.
"And now Megatron wants you."
Prowl nodded again.
Smokescreen thought for a few astroseconds. "Assassination?"
Prowl flicked a doorwing. "Perhaps, but he threatened the Prime with widespread violence if he did not hand me over. I suspect he will attempt to attack the Autobots in general, at least initially. If that attempt is rebuffed, he may very well resort to assassination."
Smokescreen eyed him. "You'd prefer that, wouldn't you."
Prowl nodded once, sharply. "It would not be the first time a crime lord wished to eliminate me. I can take care of my self, I would prefer that others not be put in danger because of me."
Smokescreen's expression changed fractionally, though Prowl had a hard time reading it. "I know. But Megatron is more of a terrorist than simply a crime lord." He fell silent for another couple astroseconds, considering the implications, and then his expression changed again, hardening into firm determination. "I want you to brief the rest of the department as soon as the first shift starts."
Prowl blinked. He had not expected that. Smokescreen had not even asked to see a recording of the message. Even so, he was pleased that his protégé was making decisions without hesitation.
"Yes, sir."
He politely ignored the way Smokescreen's optics widened and the faint tremble of the younger mech's doorwings at that term of address.
Ten breems later the entire division was gathered around the central terminal. Those who had not been in the tactical command center earlier when Prowl had entered likewise reacted to his altered appearance, some more enthusiastically than others. Smokescreen called the meeting to order and then turned it over to Prowl.
The surprised, sometimes indignant reactions – as muted and controlled as they were – made Prowl hesitate, glancing at Smokescreen. His former apprentice nodded and Prowl addressed the other mechs. He kept his tone carefully neutral, as he would during any briefing, trying to remove himself emotionally from what he was about to discuss. This time it was both easy and one of the more difficult things he had done in that regard.
"Last evening, the Prime received a message from Megatron. That message gives us an idea of what the Decepticons are planning." Accessing the controls of the terminal, Prowl downloaded his memory of the message and played it.
After the message finished, it took a moment for the other mechs to respond. Trailbreaker, who as the second highest-ranking mech in the department was Smokescreen's defacto second in command, was looking a touch disgusted.
He looked at Smokescreen. "The Prime isn't thinking of accepting that offer is he?"
Smokescreen nodded to Prowl and all attention shifted back to him. Prowl carefully considered the other mech and hesitated in answering. "No, the Prime is not considering that offer at this time."
"He isn't?" Another mech, Tailgate, demanded; sounding as if he would have chosen differently.
Prowl answered without thinking. "Doing so is something a Decepticon would do and is unbecoming of an Autobot. The Prime will not lower himself to that degree."
Prowl snapped his vocalizer off, realizing he had spoken with more bite than he should have. He might be an Autobot, but he had no rank. Everyone else in this room still outranked him. It was not the first time he had ever given a briefing to a group in which he was the lowest one in the command chain, but it had been a long time since he had done so in the type of department he had once been a commander of. He also realized with a lurch of his tanks, that he had taken great liberty in speaking for the Prime just then.
Needless to say, the other mechs would not let his mistake slide.
Tailgate hissed at him. "You are just saying that because it's your life. Speaking as if you aren't a slagging 'Con yourself…"
"Stand down, Tailgate!" Smokescreen snapped. "As you can see, he is one of us now."
Generalized restlessness gave evidence that most of the mechs present were at least partially uneasy at his sudden change in status. It proved Prowl's concern and reinforced the fact that he was still very much on probation. Even so, he could not fault that suspicion; one mission should not be enough to erase all concern.
Prowl addressed the aggravated Tailgate. "While perhaps it is to early for you to trust me, know that if there was any real likelihood that such an exchange would bring about a true cessation of hostility, I would have volunteered for it."
His words, at least as pertaining to the chances of such a thing actually encouraging Megatron to end the war, served to settle some frayed neural wiring, though not all.
Smokescreen nodded, looking over the mechs under is command. "But in reality, doing so would only serve to take away a major resource on our side. All of you know that last mission was only a success because of Prowl."
That reminder served to further settle the agitation swirling around the gathered tacticians.
Finally Trailbreaker spoke again, looking at Smokescreen. "And what is the plan? How are we going to defend against whatever it is Megatron is going to do in an effort to get him."
There was no mistaking his general dislike of possibly having either his or his friends' sparks put at risk to protect Prowl.
Instead of answering, Smokescreen looked at Prowl and waved him to continue.
Prowl was momentarily stuck. They had discussed nothing further than the new threat and he did not know how Smokescreen intended to address it from there. He knew what he would do in Smokescreen's place, but…
Then it hit him. Smokescreen was letting him decide. He frowned fractionally at that realization. He was the lowest ranking mech present, even if he did know what to do, it was not right or proper that he should be making such decisions. But he had no way of contesting what was happening without bringing what Smokescreen was doing to everyone else's attention. Nor was calling him on it directly, even if privately, necessarily the best way to get the lesson across.
With a faint, irritated grinding of the gears in his mandible hinge, Prowl continued, knowing Smokescreen had manipulated the situation into forcing him to make these decisions. "Special Operations is going to be focusing on what his plans might be. Once we have a better idea of what we will be dealing with, we will adjust our plans accordingly. Until then, our first objective is to prepare Iacon for possible assault."
Smokescreen stepped in then, giving specific assignments and dismissing the other mechs to their duties. Prowl had not been given an assignment and so he remained stationary as Smokescreen circled the terminal to approach him. Prowl had used that time to carefully consider how he would handle Smokescreen's apparent disregard for his rank and his standing in the chain of command. It would be unseemly and would undermine Smokescreen's authority if that behavior continued.
Smokescreen spoke softly, stepping closer. "What are you thinking, Prowl?"
Prowl glanced sidelong at his former apprentice and spoke with calm respect, aware his words and actions were being monitored by those closest to them. "What aspect of this do you wish for me to work on?"
Smokescreen frowned, lowering his voice so that only Prowl could hear. "Where do you think you should work?"
Prowl turned to face his department leader and though his posture remained that of intentional deference, his optics narrowed. He too spoke quietly. "You know my strengths and abilities, Smokescreen. You know the job that needs to be done. You are a tactician. Where do you think I should be assigned."
Smokescreen hesitated, suddenly looking nervous.
Prowl cleared his vents /Smokescreen./ It was the same tone he had used often in the Precinct when Smokescreen was too timid to give an answer to a question he had asked.
Smokescreen's vents flared, then he blinked looking at Prowl's autobot insignia… anywhere but at his optics. He answered quickly over the same signal. /Primary intake and analysis of intelligence gathered by Spec Ops on the analysis side and then overall lead on the tactical side…" /He hesitated again glancing up to meet his gaze and Prowl waited silently for him to finish.
Smokescreen continued, sounding almost apologetic. /But regulations say that no one under the rank of Senior Lieutenant can take overall lead without a monitor and… well, you don't even have a rank yet./
That was when Prowl understood; Smokescreen's hesitation had been two-fold. Primary data intake was perhaps one of the most junior assignments a mech could be given, even if the analysis portion of that assignment was more senior. Smokescreen had been concerned he would be offended by that role and then he had also worried about once again having to force him to work under a monitor.
He chose to ignore his apprentice's first concern, hoping that doing so would show he knew his place and did not object to it, and answered gently. "Having a monitor is not a new situation."
"But…"
Prowl's optics narrowed again, not wanting Smokescreen to say anything out loud that would undermine himself and cut him off with another comm.. /If I were any other mech besides your former supervisor and mentor would you hesitate to issue those orders?/
Smokescreen blinked, straightening a fraction as he used to when Prowl would brace him back when their positions were reversed. /No./
Prowl's expression was hard and unyielding; that of a teacher or superior waiting for an order to be carried out even if his body language still spoke respect. Smokescreen looked confused at first, but Prowl could see his expression change as he quickly figured out what Prowl was doing. What Prowl was forcing him to do. And then, a second later, why he was doing it.
Smokescreen continued to look at him, his expression almost pleading. But when Prowl gave no indication of backing down, he cleared his vents. Reluctantly drawing himself up, forcing himself to meet Prowl's now brilliant sapphire gaze, Smokescreen spoke loudly enough for his words to be heard by most of the mechs in the tactical command center.
Though his words were firm, his expression remained almost pained. "Prowl, you will be seeing to the intake and primary analysis of all intelligence collected on this matter by Special Ops. Then, when the time comes, you will take overall lead. Your monitor will be determined at that time, in accordance with protocol."
Smokescreen's vents were heaving with his internal stress.
Prowl nodded minutely, pleased at Smokescreen's performance. Then he let his frame relax into a visibly submissive posture, though he gave him a barely-there smirk. "Understood."
Smokescreen stared at him, then huffed a bark of laughter, though it was more of a release of tension than true humor. He started to step away then leaned close to his former mentor, whispering harshly but quiet enough only Prowl could hear. "Don't do that to me again."
Prowl was nonplussed. "You are the department head, I…"
Smokescreen's optics narrowed. "It won't be for long. You know that."
"I know no such thing." Prowl glanced purposefully at the roomful of mechs who clearly did not trust him enough to take orders from him, keeping his voice soft enough to keep his comment private. "Until that should happen, if it ever does, you are still the department head. I will give no one cause to doubt that fact or my acceptance of it."
Smokescreen growled, huffing again in irritation, although his voice never got any louder. "And I'm telling you not to do that to me again."
Prowl smirked, but dipped his helm. "Yes, sir."
His answer was loud enough to be heard by the others, who would doubtlessly draw their own conclusions as to what Smokescreen had been upset with and what had been said that might result in such an answer being given.
Smokescreen's doorwings flared, clearly uncomfortable having Prowl acquiesce to his orders so willingly.
With another huff, but clearly unwilling to continue this conversation, Smokescreen pointed to a nearby console that was currently unmanned. "Use that one. I'll… check on you later in the orn."
Then he was gone, retreating into his office. Prowl watched him go, somewhat bemused at his former apprentice's reaction. There was no doubt Smokescreen had understood why he done what he had, or even why it was necessary. But there was no guarantee the younger mech might not find a way to repay him for the discomfort that awkward conversation had caused.
Not that it mattered, Prowl decided. He had accomplished what had to be accomplished and he was confident Smokescreen would be more careful in the future not to say or do anything that would undermine his own authority. He could handle any minor social discomfort that might result from it.
Quietly pleased with himself and how things were going, Prowl lowered himself into the seat and proceeded to organize his terminal. There was a lot of work to be done.
… … …
The work of interpreting and analyzing the intelligence gathered by scouts, communications and Spec Ops continued without anomaly. Two orns after Prowl had first brought the situation to Smokescreen's attention, Prowl was diligently pouring over the information they had gathered so far, identifying holes that needed to be filled and simultaneously compiling a working report that would be handed to Smokescreen at the end of the orn. A report that the Head Tactician would then forward to Special Operations.
He spared only enough concentration to respectfully acknowledge Jazz's presence as the saboteur handed him yet another datapad with new intelligence.
Not pausing in his analysis, Prowl plugged the datapad into the terminal and began programming it, expecting Jazz to leave as he had every other time he had delivered a datapad. Only Jazz did not.
Instead he spoke, voice carefully controlled but sounding almost disapointed. "So… data intake eh? Is that the job you expected to have?"
Prowl blinked, saving his work even as he paused his calculations to look up at Jazz momentarily. "It is a necessary task and, considering the situation, one I would not have hesitated to assign myself."
Jazz frowned. "Is that it? Is that what happened? You chose this job for yourself?"
Prowl stiffened at the understated challenging accusation, focusing fully on the saboteur. He was well aware some of the other tactical staff were paying discrete attention. "Smokescreen assigned me to the task it is most logical that I do, regardless of anything else."
Jazz said nothing for a long moment and then continued, thoughtful. "And if he'd given ya something else ta do instead?"
Prowl's engine revved before he could stop it. "Then that is what I would be doing instead."
The two mechs continued to stare at each other for an uncomfortable moment and then Prowl lowered his gaze to the silver minibot's chassis. "Is that what this is? Are you making sure I am not attempting to take over your tactical department?"
Jazz's gaze did not sharpen, though it did not soften either. It only became more enigmatic. "You are the most experienced and skilled tactician here."
"And I know my place." Prowl lifted his gaze back to that expressionless visor, willing the other mech to believe him.
Jazz just looked him over and Prowl did not move until the inspection was complete, indicated by the way Jazz stepped back. He had known his unintentional boldness with the Prime the other orn would come back to haunt him. There was no telling how long he would have to fight suspicion that he was attempting to take over the tactical department.
At length Jazz nodded. Then he ambled over to smokescreen's office and stuck his helm in.
Prowl went back to work, staunchly ignoring the fact that a few moments later Smokescreen left with Jazz, walking out of the tactical command center. He was the lowest ranking mech in the department; it was not his business. He did not acknowledge how much that fact threatened to irk, pushing his personal feelings aside with practiced stoic determination and acceptance of reality.
He had work to do.
… … …
Smokescreen settled uneasily into the seat the Prime pointed him toward. Since he had been appointed the Autobot's Head Tactician he had spent a lot of time in the Prime's presence. But frequency had never made it feel… right. He had only been a Junior Diversionary Tactician in the Precinct in Praxus, not having even fully completed his advanced apprenticeship with Prowl. He had no right to be advising the Prime, regardless of the fact he had been doing so for six vorns.
Now, in the Prime's office, facing the regal cobalt and crimson mech with Ironhide ever at his shoulder and Jazz seated beside him… Smokescreen was tense.
Very tense.
Prime considered him kindly, though there was an underlying tension in his features as well. "It has been several orns now, how is Prowl settling into his new position?"
Smokescreen blinked. "Alright, as far as I can tell. I mean, he hasn't complained or anything – not that I'd expect him to." He looked at Ironhide and then back at Optimus. "You should probably, um, ask him that, sir."
Optimus allowed a tiny nod, though that unusual tension never left. "Perhaps. But you are his superior officer. Do you have any concerns?"
Smokescreen jerked back, his doorwings flaring briefly. "Concerns, Prime?"
It was Ironhide who answered, that same unspoken…something… underlying his words and posture, making Smokescreen increasingly uneasy. "He is not used to being at the bottom of the chain of command."
Smokescreen's doorwings flared again, suddenly defensive. "No, he isn't. And for good reason. But he's a professional and would never intentionally violate the chain of command." He let his gaze sweep over all three of the other mechs in the room; suddenly grateful Prowl had refused any attempt to let him exercise more authority than his non-existent rank permitted. "Is that what this is about?"
Optimus' gesture was consoling, as was his tone, though there was still an undertone that made Smokescreen think more was going on than he was immediately catching onto. "We just want to make sure you aren't being pressured by him."
Engine revving as his doorwings flicked again, Smokescreen felt his vents flare as he shook his helm definitively. "Prowl isn't trying to run the tactical department."
The Praxian snorted at the very idea. "He wouldn't even choose where he would assign himself when I offered the choice." Smokescreen shifted his gaze to glare at Ironhide. "He might not have been this low in the energon line in a long time, but he wasn't sparked as a commander. I could assign him something a drone should do – like polish the flooring – and he'd do it. Probably without much complaint. But that would be a waste of his talent."
Looking back at the Prime, Smokescreen leaned forward, the earnestness of his words surprising even him. "If he ever violates the chain of command, I am absolutely certain he would have a fragging good reason."
Smokescreen leaned back, but then spoke into the taut silence, the hand that had landed on the Prime's desk curling into a fist as he willed the Prime to believe him. "And the thing of it is, he should be running the department. I know it. He knows it. And so do you. Sir."
Again it was Ironhide who answered, though Smokescreen could have sworn he saw a small glint of pleased expectation in the Prime's optics. "The Autobots – let alone the commanders – are not ready for him to have such an influential position."
Jazz jumped in before Smokescreen could reply. "Surely ya can admit it's a little too soon, Smokey. He's only been here for just over two quartex. He was Megs' golden boy for nearly a decavorn. He hasn't been seen with his new blue optics enough for the rest of tha troops to willingly accept hearing his voice rather than yours."
Smokescreen considered that, the way all three of them were watching him intently, as if waiting for him to catch something none of them wanted to actually put into words. Then his doorwings flared again as he suddenly realized there was definitely more at play here than he had suspected. The expectant and almost hopeful expressions that were watching him could only mean what he was thinking they might mean.
But could he trust that assumption?
He nodded slowly, speaking carefully. "Very well. Know that, as Lead Autobot Tactician, I am going to do everything I can to make sure our faction doesn't end up wasting a very valuable resource."
Optimus returned his nod, the barest hint of a smile touching his lip plate. "That is all I can ask, Smokescreen. It would, after all be very unfortunate to waste any potential advantage or resource. Thank you for your time."
Smokescreen blinked. That was all? Jazz had dragged him all the way to the Prime's office for that? Nevertheless, he recognized a dismissal and stood to bow his respects to the Prime.
It was only when he was halfway back to the tactical command that Smokescreen realized what had really just happened. When he did there was no helping the happy grin that split his faceplate. He knew that Prowl should be the one to run the tactical department. He had just been given tacit permission to make sure the others on the command team came to realize the same slagging thing.
… … …
Halfway through the next orn, Prowl looked up from his terminal as Smokescreen stepped out of his office. He watched as his former apprenticed walked to one of the nearby mechs, a light copper and blue mech named Fusion. Smokescreen leaned over and pointed at something on the screen and the two started discussing it quietly.
Prowl glanced again at his own terminal, briefly double-checking that he did indeed have what he needed. Then, making his decision, he stood and walked closer to Smokescreen. He stopped at a polite distance: close enough to make clear he desired to speak to Smokescreen, but not close enough to intrude.
A twitch of the other Praxian's doorwings let him know Smokescreen knew he was there.
Roughly two breems later, Smokescreen straightened and, with parting instructions to Fusion, walked toward him. "Yes, Prowl?"
"I believe we have enough information to begin active tactical planning. Any additional intelligence can be processed simultaneously." He delivered the news calmly and without emotion.
"Very good." But his former apprentice seemed a bit more uneasy than the situation called for. Then determination took over and he pointed to the central terminal and led Prowl toward it. "I have been thinking that it is time the mechs under my command have the opportunity to learn from the best."
Unspoken was a question and Prowl nodded his agreement with the other tactician's assessment as well as his unspoken decision, regardless of what the implications of what his agreement might mean for him.
Smokescreen regarded him for a moment longer, then looked over at a very specific mech. "Trailbreaker."
Trailbreaker looked up, startled. "Yes, sir?"
Smokescreen gestured him over and once Trailbreaker had joined them, Smokescreen smiled widely at him. "You wanted to learn offensive tactics?"
Looking decidedly uneasy, shooting a nervous glance at Prowl, Trailbreaker nevertheless nodded.
Gesturing to one of the stools Smokescreen pat the other mech on the arm. "Prowl is going to take lead on our current planning and, as he has no rank yet, regulations require a monitor be assigned to him."
Trailbreaker blinked, "Me?" He glanced again at Prowl's stony, unreadable expression; which was still fixed on Smokescreen.
Smokescreen nodded confirmation. "Officially your job is to make sure he doesn't try anything untoward. Unofficially, it is to watch a master tactician work. Meaning: stay out of his way unless you actually happen to see something suspicious."
Trailbreaker was unmistakably worried now. "Uh…Understood sir."
Prowl was reminded of how frightened Trailbreaker had been to synch with him, or rather the hub, during their recent mission. Briefly he thought it almost cruel for Smokescreen to choose him to be his monitor. But he said nothing as Smokescreen pat the other mech's arm again in reassurance.
"I promise, if you give him a chance, you could learn a lot. Prowl is an excellent teacher."
Trailbreaker glanced at Prowl again, clearly not totally convinced of that, then he nodded timidly.
Smokescreen smiled at him then looked at Prowl. The two Praxians locked gazes for a long moment. Prowl had assumed his monitor would be Smokescreen again, but retrospectively realized he had had no right to have made such an assumption. For whatever reason, Smokescreen had made the decision differently.
Dipping his helm, Prowl yielded to that decision without comment, accepting the hub Smokescreen pulled out of subspace.
Without another word, Smokescreen left, returning to his office.
With a shallow ex-vent of air, Prowl looked at Trailbreaker, reading clearly the other's nervousness and forced his doorwings to settle into a non-threatening pose.
When the other mech said nothing after nearly half a breem, Prowl took the initiative. "Have you ever done something like this before?"
Trailbreaker straightened, clearly defensive and affronted. But when Prowl's posture never changed he paused to search the Praxian's gaze. While distinctly neutral and therefore not warm, those newly cobalt optics were by no means disgusted or derisive… or anything else he would have expected.
Suddenly feeling like engine sludge for having expected something more Decepticon – and then berating himself for feeling bad for it – Trailbreaker finally deflated. "No, not really."
Prowl merely nodded. "It is not as difficult as you are likely thinking it is."
That said, Prowl quickly connected the hub to his own dataport and then connected the hub to the terminal. Once that was finished he looked back at Trailbreaker. "Synch with the hub just as you would a terminal."
But Trailbreaker only continued to stare at him. Releasing another vent of air, Prowl tried again, softening his voice a fraction. "If you are to monitor my work, you will have to do this. It is a one-way connection and there is no danger for you."
Still Trailbreaker hesitated then, with determined and clipped movements, he plugged into the hub. Prowl watched him carefully and knew the moment Trailbreaker found his firewalls as the other mech's optics widened, dilating slightly as he focused back on him in the physical world
"Slag on a cyber-strudel! Those are your firewalls?"
Prowl managed to suppress a smirk. "Yes. Now, to observe, simply stay at the level of the hub. I will lower the primary firewalls to the appropriate systems and will point out anything else you should see…"
Trailbreaker cut him off, openly more suspicious. "The whole point of having a monitor is to keep an optic on what is going on… not just what you want me to see."
It was a clear challenge, one that actually impressed Prowl coming from a mech who was clearly out of his element. Prowl hesitated for a moment, considering his options.
Smokescreen had assigned this mech as his monitor and, despite what he might want or prefer, he knew what that role entailed. Still, Prowl did not know this mech and he wanted to avoid an absolute stranger having unimpeded access to his processor if possible. However, if he was unable to negotiate a compromise, he knew he would eventually have no choice but to submit to the conditions Smokescreen's second in command placed on him.
For that reason he spoke carefully, respectfully. "That is true. I have nothing to hide, though I do value my mental privacy as I am sure you can understand and would probably feel the same in my place." He saw the other mech's tiny nod and continued. "I propose an arrangement where, if you notice something you find suspicious, I will grant further access at your request."
Trailbreaker hesitated, looking at him carefully. "I suppose that's fair enough. I mean, you are an Autobot now, not just a 'Con defector. I guess that should count for something."
"My thanks." Prowl murmured softly, but could tell that Trailbreaker was not completely mollified yet. "Perhaps if we proceed in the simplest manner as we have discussed but, if at any time you begin to feel uneasy or doubt the legitimacy of that agreement, we can make other arrangements. I assure you that my only interest is in accomplishing the assigned task. I am confident that once we begin, you will find that your worries are for naught."
Trailbreaker hesitated a moment longer then nodded, relaxing palpably.
With a grateful release of air, Prowl returned the gesture and then started going over the data.
Sure enough, as the data began to flow, Trailbreaker relaxed and got into the ebb and flow of the analysis. Sensing that change in the other mech, Prowl began to teach – cautiously at first – pointing out important datapoints and how he knew they connected to other datapoints. He explained the parameters he was using and how he established his algorithms. All the while he allowed the other tactician to ask whatever questions he wished.
It was soon clear that Trailbreaker, while sharp, was inherently more suspicious than average and would doubtless do best in a position where he was assigned the task of detecting holes in available information and irregularities in the data. He would also do well in detecting false information and other enemy attempts to mislead. A tendency that likely explained how he had discovered the Decepticon's attempts to send out drone curriers.
Prowl filed that tidbit of information away.
As the shift came to an end, Prowl saved his work and then looked at Trailbreaker, arching an optic ridge in silent question.
Trailbreaker huffed a bark of embarrassed laughter. "Well… you were right. That was… enlightening." Then he looked away, not wanting to meet Prowl's gaze. "You really are a master tactician."
"It is what I was programmed and trained for." Prowl answered softly.
Trailbreaker nodded quickly and pushed away from the terminal.
"Am I to assume we will continue next shift?" Prowl asked as the other mech stood.
"I… guess so." Trailbreaker looked at him again, thoughtfully and then left.
Prowl watched him go, aware that Smokescreen was coming closer. When Smokescreen had come to a stop across the terminal from him Prowl stood respectfully, this assignment having forcibly reminded him of his true status in the department.
"A moment Prowl?" Smokescreen asked, gesturing toward his office.
Prowl nodded mutely and followed his commanding officer into the smaller room. Once the door shut, Smokescreen turned to face him, settling casually on the edge of his desk.
"So… how did it go?"
There was no question as to what 'it' was. Prowl hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Trailbreaker is not naturally inclined toward offensive tactics, but I believe he would excel at being a good compliment to an on the ground tactician in analysis of incoming data."
Smokescreen's optics widened. "A tandem process?"
Prowl nodded. "If he is willing to learn how to do that."
Smokescreen smiled briefly then sobered, looking down at his clasped hands briefly before forcing himself to meet Prowl's emotionless gaze. "You understand why I did not keep myself as your monitor?"
Prowl's own gaze narrowed fractionally in sudden suspicion. "I can think of several possible motivations."
Smokescreen smirked and then gestured with a few fingers. "List them for me."
Prowl blinked, but his former apprentice's words were clearly a command. Thus he provided the answer Smokescreen had solicited. "One, you duties precluded you taking that role yourself. Two, you wanted me to teach Trailbreaker what I could. Three, you wished for me to get a better understanding of Trailbreaker's abilities. And four, you hoped to get one of the mechs more outspoken against me to change his views."
"Trailbreaker is my second in command." Smokescreen agreed softly, almost wistfully.
Prowl nodded again. "I never contested the legitimacy of assigning him to the role you did."
"You weren't pleased with my choice." Smokescreen pointed out.
Prowl grimaced, forcing his gaze downward. "I was surprised. I had no right to be and I apologize for being inconsiderate…"
"Inconsiderate?" Smokescreen shook his helm. "Prowl… You are going to be their boss someday. They need to get used to working with you."
Prowl jerked back, never having considered that a possible motivation for Smokescreen's actions. He spoke even more softly. "You truly believe that?"
Smokescreen nodded once, firmly. "I do."
Prowl looked at him again, considering his former apprentice closely. "You would be willing to work under my command again?"
Smokescreen paused, hesitating now that the question had actually been asked. But he of all mechs knew that Prowl had always been a fair commander and a willing teacher. After a moment he nodded firmly. "Yes."
Prowl released a short huff of air, letting his doorwings flick as he glanced at the portal leading back to the main tactical command. "You are, perhaps, the only one who will."
Smokescreen just smiled at him. "I think you will be surprised, given time. You will gain their confidence. You made great strides doing that today with Trailbreaker. The others will come around as well."
Prowl lifted a single optic ridge. "I take it then that you will eventually have every mech in your department act as my monitor at some point?"
Smokescreen merely shrugged. "If that is what it takes. Will you be okay with that?"
Prowl's gaze went flat again. "I am outranked by all the other mechs under your command. I know this. I will not cause you trouble in my interactions with them."
"That is not what I meant." Smokescreen frowned. "I mean personally. Will you be alright with letting the others rotate through the position of being your monitor?"
Prowl regarded Smokescreen for a moment longer, briefly wondering if this was retribution for forcing his hand earlier in the decaorn. But in looking at his former apprentice's earnest optics, Prowl could not help but acknowledge Smokescreen truly intended this to help the others accept him more quickly.
"I will be fine, Smokescreen. Do what you feel you must to benefit your department." Prowl heard himself answering. "With your permission, however, I have a youngling waiting to go to the training range."
Smokescreen smiled then, the lingering tension in his frame releasing. "Get out of here, then."
Smirking, Prowl stood, nodding with artificially amplified formality. "I shall. Thank you."
I know it is shorter than my recent chapters, but trust me, the next scene will be much better leading off a chapter than ending it. *Snicker* Never fear my friends, I have not forgotten Prowl's promise to train Bluestreak, nor have I forgotten about his upgrade. Ratchet is just having a hard time figuring out what to do, as soon as he knows, so will you. :)
Just for clarification; While Tailgate is the name of a 'real' Autobot character, I have to think it would be a fairly common name for a robotic species because I do not intend for this Tailgate to be the same type of character as the G1 character… he is more like the Prime version, though not entirely. Also, in case there is any question, Fusion is just a made up character as was Razor. An OC, Perhaps, but just an extra/filler.
As always, I would like to hear you ideas/comments/thoughts…
