Happy Thanksgiving! – To all my American readers.
Blessed Hanukah! – to all my Jewish readers.
Warning: This one is a bit more angsty than I initially intended when I set out to write it. Not sure exactly what that means, so take it or leave it.
"This is foolish!" Fusion snarled, leaning forward and bracing his weight against the edge of the primary tactical terminal as he glared at Prowl. "You might be some high-level tactician, but this is stupid!"
Smokescreen leaned forward as well, before Prowl could reply. "We have no choice. It needs to be done."
"We haven't been able to test let alone train any warriors for such a thing. Pit, we've barely finished planning how it would work." Fusion reiterated, shifting his glare from Prowl to their department leader, though he spoke with more respect.
Trailbreaker grimaced, but shook his helm. "We don't have much of a choice, Fusion. It has only been six quartex, they have managed to find us the last three engagements and that was with spark dampeners to hide us. We are out of options"
"And you think putting yourself purposefully on the battlefield will be better?" Fusion looked around at the other senior tacticians, Tailgate was silently grinding his denta to his left, in clear agreement.
Trailbreaker did not answer; he just glanced down and then looked at Prowl and Smokescreen. He was nervous, Prowl knew. While his ability to shoot had improved dramatically over the last six quartex, Trailbreaker was far from comfortable or proficient in combat situations.
"This was your idea, wasn't it." Fusion growled again, shifting his attention back to Prowl. "You've found a way to eliminate our tactical department and make it look like you are trying to save them."
There was so much venom, so much barely controlled passion in the other Praxian's optics that Prowl was a moment in gathering his wits enough to reply to the wild accusation. Fusion had been part of his efforts to train the response teams. Prowl had thought that the other mech had gotten past his initial antipathy.
Apparently that had been a mistaken assumption.
"You are wrong." The black and white tactician answered, his quiet voice a calm contrast to Fusion's anger.
"It is too risky. None of us have been trained fully for this and none of the troops have either. Not really." Fusion leaned forward. "You take risks, not just with others' lives, but with the very backbone of this department. If you are wrong, the entire Autobot tactical division will be devastated. You would be all but handing the Decepticons victory in the war."
Prowl considered the younger tactician for a long, silent moment as the others in the department began shifting uncomfortably. Even so, he re-ran various calculations through his processor – variables he had already considered and had chosen not to share.
It had been a mistake, Prowl realized, not to propose the solution himself. A small part of his spark, clung to the selfish hope it would not be necessary; that if he could just keep his vocalizer muted…
As the silence dragged, Smokescreen tried to moderate. "Fusion…"
"He is right." Prowl interrupted, looking at his department leader. "It is still too great a risk at this stage to have all three of the senior ranking and most experienced tacticians in the field. This is, for all intents and purposes, a test run. We should limit our possibility of loss."
Fusion blinked, rocking back, clearly caught off guard that Prowl would agree with him.
Smokescreen stared at Prowl. "But we are a team."
Prowl nodded. "And it would be foolish to risk the entire team until the system for our protection is more fully established." He glanced at Trailbreaker briefly then back at Smokescreen. "Until the entire team is ready for concurrent armed combat."
Trailbreaker's systems heated fractionally; he knew what Prowl was referring to and he was grateful Prowl had been as diplomatic as he had. The seemingly constant barrage of Decepticon attacks ever since they had first been found by Decepticon search teams had made it difficult for Trailbreaker to train on the firing range as much as he would have liked. And it still showed in his marksmanship, even if he was improving.
Trailbreaker looked down at the table, fingering the surface without acknowledging those around him. "That doesn't change that we don't have any other choice. I know we were hoping for another three quartex to train all involved but…"
"Our hand has been forced." Prowl confirmed, looking from Trailbreaker to Smokescreen to Fusion. "Either way now, our senior tacticians are at risk. At least this way, protection will be close enough to do some good."
Fusion's engine revved angrily, though Prowl suspected it was fear that underlie that anger. He could tell the copper Praxian was not about to give up that easily. This was not the first time they had had such a conversation. It was, however, the first time the other mech had been so passionate about it. There had to be a reason.
/Fusion…/ Prowl began only to be cut off.
/If you have something to say to me, do so publicly./ Fusion demanded, his optics flashing. He added a quick, tacked-on, /Sir./
Prowl blinked. Then he nodded, well aware of Fusion's abiding dislike and distrust. He would not push the mech, his own rank not withstanding. He spoke out loud. "I am curious; you have known this was the eventual plan. Why are you so strongly against it only now?"
Fusion opened his mouth to reply then stopped himself. He looked away briefly before his engine revved again. "Because I'm still not convinced it isn't a trick to let the Decepticons decimate our tactical department."
All the mechs around the chamber reacted to that hastily delivered statement. Some of the lower ranking mechs looked nervously at Prowl, waiting for his response to the not so implicit accusation while others looked upset with the younger Praxian. Trailbreaker blinked at his friend in surprise and then he too glanced at Prowl, though his own engine made a nervous rev. Smokescreen's optics flashed furiously.
A brief glance at the other mechs gathered around them showed that, to various degrees, Fusion's worry was an unspoken concern a number of them had. Not all, Prowl was relieved to see, but enough. It did not help that what Fusion feared was a very real possibility, even if there was no malicious intent on Prowl's part.
It was a risky chance they were going to take, even if the risk of being found by the Decepticon search teams was also a real and proven danger. In looking at the fierce gleam in the younger Praxian's optics, Prowl suspected Fusion had finally come up with the same solution he had… probably the same solution Prowl had let personal anxieties prevent him from proposing himself.
Knowing it was now inevitable that his laxity would be found out, Prowl decided he would not detract from Fusion's presentation.
Prowl released a vent, keeping his gaze on Fusion. "And how would you suggest we mitigate that risk?"
Fusion blinked again, as if caught off guard that Prowl would ask that question with all seriousness. He hesitated a moment longer then leaned forward again. "You could go alone. You don't need the other two, not if you really did single-handedly do this for the Decepticons for so long. You have also proven you have the ability to handle yourself in combat. Get the glitches worked out of the system while only risking one life."
It was Prowl's turn to blink. Just as he had suspected, Fusion had given voice to the same solution Prowl had considered and subsequently discarded numerous times. It was so obvious a solution that the other mechs were now murmuring about how logical it was. And they were right.
Why had Prowl not voiced it?
Prowl knew the answer, even if he did not let on. His reason was illogical and uncomfortably sentimental and extremely selfish. He did not want to be alone, imbedded in an Autobot combat unit. His previous experience with such a situation, albeit from very early in his integration, had nearly been fatal for him. The thought actually frightened him more than he wanted to admit.
True, he was an Autobot now… one with substantial rank.
True, his tactical orders were now followed without question by virtually all the Autobots in Iacon.
But he was not naive enough to believe that the mechs making up such a security detail would actually risk their own lives for his. He did not doubt they would take such chances for Smokescreen or Trailbreaker. But he knew almost none of the other mechs in Iacon, not personally. He knew he was still the subject of uncomfortable susurrations and distrustful stares by a substantial portion of the base's population when he passed in the hall.
Did Prowl think he would actually be left to fend completely by himself? No. But nor was he convinced that he could completely trust most mechs on the base. Not enough to allow himself to wholly focus on the battle; trusting the majority of his own physical existence to those whom he did not know and probably did not care for him personally.
It was the same reason he was still reluctant to socialize with those same mechs. He was still 'a former Decepticon' to most of them and he knew it.
Even as that personal revelation slashed through Prowl's processor, he pushed aside the tiny twinge it caused in his CPU.
He pushed the discomfort away and focused on Fusion. Then he looked at Smokescreen and finally spoke what he knew he should have from the beginning. "Fusion is correct. We can mitigate the risks of an unproven system by only sending one tactician into the field. As the only offensively trained tactician in the department, it is logical that I go."
Smokescreen glanced between the two other Praxians for a long couple of astroseconds, registering Fusion's surprise at having Prowl's ready agreement as well as Prowl's well-hidden discomfort and... guilt?... with the proposition.
"This isn't the first time you've considered that." Smokescreen realized suddenly. At the tiny shake of Prowl's helm his vents flared. "Why have you not brought it up before?"
Prowl actually flinched, a movement that startled everyone who managed to actually see it happen. "I… I should have, Smokescreen. I apologize."
Smokescreen's doorwings twitched at the apology, but he knew as well as everyone else that Prowl should have at least suggested it before that point. Even if the suggestion was shot down or disregarded in the course of planning, it should have at least been made.
Prowl stiffened as the silence stretched. He knew as well as Smokescreen that, in keeping such a suggestion to himself, he had been negligent in his duty. Negligent enough to deserve a reprimand.
/Prowl, why did you put me in this situation?/ Smokescreen demanded privately over their silent comm..
/The only excuse I have is very selfish, Smokescreen./ Prowl replied, keeping his optics lowered to his apprentice's chassis. /I do not expect you to accept it./
/You are my mentor!/Clear in Smokescreen's mental tone was a mix of betrayal and irritation at being forced into such a situation with no escape.
Prowl flicked a doorwing. /As such, I know you have a duty as my commanding officer./
Smokescreen released a vent, transmitting his silent reluctance. Prowl responded by transmitting his own understanding and acceptance and then he waited. The offense had been public, pointed out by a third party, so the rebuke would have to be public as well or risk a break down of unit discipline.
Smokescreen knew that just as much as Prowl did, every line of his frame radiating his irritation at being forced into such a position. He huffed air through his vents, aware every optic was now on him.
"I'm disappointed, Prowl." Smokescreen murmured softly. "I expected better. It is not like you to let personal preferences interfere with your duty."
Prowl was still stiff, but he dipped his helm, accepting the rebuke. "It won't happen again, Smokescreen."
And just like that, he bound himself through his ethical programming. Smokescreen knew that as well, his stunned stare could mean nothing else. It took the white and gray Praxian a sparkbeat to recover. When he dipped his own helm in acceptance of Prowl's reply, the tension in the room eased palpably.
"Do you believe that sending you as a sole tactician would be the best solution?" Smokescreen asked after a long hesitation.
Prowl glanced at Fusion momentarily and then nodded. "Until any glitches in the system are ironed out, yes."
Smokescreen regarded him a moment longer. "Then make it happen."
"Yes, sir." Prowl nodded.
As the tactical staff dispersed, Prowl received a ping on his private comm.. It was Fusion. /Prowl…/
Not liking the tone in the other Praxian's digital voice, Prowl interrupted him. /Have I lost all your respect over this, Fusion?/
Fusion was a moment in answering. /You assume you had a great deal of respect, Commander?/
/Not a 'great deal.'/ Prowl replied, wearily. /I had hoped to have earned some./
/Perhaps./ Fusion answered after a moment. /What would have happened if I hadn't called you on this?/
Prowl released a vent of air as he started making preliminary team assignments and structuring his proposal for the security detail and the unit he would be imbedded in. /We would likely have proceeded under the original plan./ He paused. /You were right to object as you did./
That must have brought Fusion up short, for he was a moment in responding. When he did his tone was a touch less hostile. /I humiliated you in front of the entire department./
Prowl glanced up from the terminal he was using to look across the department at the tactician he was 'speaking' to. /What is your point, Fusion?/
Fusion's doorwings twitched in a wince at Prowl's tone and it was a moment before he answered. /Aren't you angry?/
Prowl released a snort of air through his vents and he returned to his assignment. /I have no more cause to be angry at you than at Smokescreen. I can hardly blame you for something I brought on myself./
Before Fusion could say anything else, Prowl continued, looking up again to snag the other tactician's gaze with his own. /In the future, Fusion, I ask that you bring such concerns to me personally before taking them to the entire department in that manner. I am still the second in command and give you my word to give you a fair hearing. That is the only commentary I have on your tactics today. Am I clear?/
Fusion's optics widened and he hastily looked down at the datapad he was holding. /Clear, sir./
… … …
Near the end of the orn, Prowl walked with Bluestreak back to their quarters, the youngling's hand clasped lightly in his. Even though the orn had been long and trying compared to others recently spent on the base (the planning session and briefing with the field commanders for the upcoming mission had not gone as Prowl had hoped), he was glad to have moments such as this with the youngling.
After their evening energon, Bluestreak had persuaded Prowl to take him to the base's underground training field. It was a large, arena-shaped chamber with a number of different terrain types recreated throughout. The area was used to train new recruits before the holographic training technology was perfected. It had not been used since early in the war, though a couple of drones continued to maintain the area.
Bluestreak had, apparently, discovered the field while trolling the base's public databases and wanted to see it. While Bluestreak did not have an alternate form to transform into, he had implored upon Prowl to explore the arena in his.
It had been an interesting joor as Prowl had carried the excited sparkling in his own alt-mode, indulging Bluestreak's encouraging cries to go 'faster,' or 'higher,' or to 'do it again'. The little one had thoroughly enjoyed the break from routine. And, if he were honest with himself, Prowl had to admit that he had too – though mostly that was because he had been able to bring so much joy to the youngling.
As if sensing his thoughts, Bluestreak looked up at him and smiled. "Can we do that again, Prowl?"
Prowl smiled, despite himself. He would not do something like that for himself, but for Bluestreak: "I believe that is a distinct possibility."
They entered their quarters and Prowl handed Bluestreak his educational datapad. "Here, you still have one lesson to complete tonight."
Bluestreak took the datapad and nodded. "Alright!"
Prowl watched the youngling eagerly plop down on his berth, datapad in hand: the youngling's preferred studying place. It was always a relief that Bluestreak was one of those youngsters who enjoyed learning. Without his guardian protocols, it made it easier for Prowl to relate.
Seeing that the youngling was settled, Prowl picked up one of his own datapads and sat behind his desk.
They worked in silence for several breems before Prowl had the distinct impression he was being watched. No… studied. A quick scan of their surroundings indicated Bluestreak was the only other individual in the room and Prowl glanced up.
Bluestreak was indeed regarding him, his small fingers clenching the datapad, his helm cocked to the side. The youngling's expression was not merely curious but also very serious.
When Bluestreak was not forthcoming with what was on his processor – a fact that troubled Prowl enough to prompt him to put his own datapad on the desk – Prowl spoke.
"What is it, Bluestreak?" Prowl asked calmly.
Bluestreak looked down quickly, though not at his datapad. One foot twitched nervously and the mechling's tiny doorwings drooped. When he finally spoke, he did so without looking back up. "I… I was just thinking…"
Truly troubled at this uncharacteristic hesitance, Prowl frowned, pushing himself to his pedes. "What are you thinking?"
"I…" Bluestreak hesitated and then looked back up at Prowl. "Promise you won't get mad at me? I don't want you to be mad at me because you are my caretaker and I really respect you and I…"
Prowl settled onto the berth a meter away from Bluestreak, giving the youngling space but also making himself available if the little one wanted physical comfort. "As your caretaker I would not have you fear my reaction to anything you are thinking."
"But… you…I mean, it's about you. Something you haven't explained to me yet. And I… I was curious." Bluestreak looked away and then took in a vent of air before looking back up, bright blue optics wide. "You are a tactician, right?"
"Correct." Prowl answered, for some reason suddenly dreading where this was going.
"That means you come up with plans and direct battles and… um, stuff. Right?" Bluestreak's optics remained wide. Innocent, almost hurting.
"Right." Prowl kept his voice soft. He forced his doorwing to twitch in a way that was intended to encourage Bluestreak to continue, regardless of the fact that the tactician was growing increasingly concerned.
"Did…" Tension raced through Bluestreak's frame. "Did… did you do that for the Decepticons too?"
Prowl felt like he had just been kicked by Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. He had to clear his vents. When he spoke his voice was stressed, at least to his own audios. "To my shame, yes." He took in a steadying vent of air. "Yes, Bluestreak, I worked as a tactician for the Decepticons."
"So…" Bluestreak looked at him closely. "So you planned their attacks on the Autobots? That's why so many 'bots here didn't trust or like you at first. Not just because you were a high-ranking Decepticon. You actually made it possible for the Decepticons to really hurt them."
"Yes." Prowl's voice was laced with static and it was all he could do to stop the whine of his engine as Bluestreak looked away. The youngling stared hard at the datapad in his hands, gripping it tightly.
The tactician could tell by Bluestreak's actions that, even though the youngling said nothing, he was not done with this line of questioning. Prowl wanted to end the conversation, fearing where it was headed, but he knew that would be a mistake… at least for the youngling's sake.
Several times, Bluestreak started to speak and then stopped. Then he seemed to steel himself and looked back up, his voice tiny. "And… what about Praxus?"
Prowl's systems hitched, his tanks freezing quickly as if he had been dropped into a vat of liquid nitrogen. "Bluestreak…"
His processor raced as it frantically calculated the most likely outcome of this conversation based on different possible responses to Bluestreak's question. None bode well for their relationship.
He made a decision to take a calculated risk, even though he knew it would only be delaying the inevitable. "Bluestreak, you know I have always been honest with you?" The youngling nodded so Prowl continued. "We both lost a lot with the destruction of Praxus and the details are something you should not have to deal with until you are more mature. As a survivor you deserve to know the full scope of what happened in Praxus and how. But I… I ask that you wait until you are in your adult frame. I will give you that explanation at the time of your choosing, once you are settled in your adult frame. Will… will you trust me to wait until then?"
It was a long shot, Prowl knew, though he found he was having difficulty cycling his vents as he waited for Bluestreak's answer. Prowl knew, or at the least he feared, that Bluestreak would demand a new guardian if the youngling found out the role he had inadvertently played in their home's destruction. If that was going to happen, he wanted to delay it until his charge would be able to take care of himself.
And, perhaps, if delayed long enough, the mechling's interest would wane and the question might never be raised again.
A very slim possibility perhaps, but one Prowl was willing to take. It might have been selfish, but he had grown to depend on his relationship with Bluestreak for his own sanity. It was frightening how desperately he did not want to loose it.
Even as he realized that, Prowl knew that he would eventually loose Bluestreak. Even if not in such a harmful way, the mechling would finish maturing and would at some point no longer need a caretaker or guardian. He had hoped to at least retain a friendship with the blue and gray youngling when that orn came.
In looking into those big blue optics that continued to study him, Prowl realized Bluestreak would not forget. At some point he would ask the question again and, if he did agree to wait, he would no doubt be able to reason out Prowl's motivation – and hence his selfishness – in asking him to wait.
As Bluestreak continued to study him, Prowl wondered what the youngling was seeing. He was about to cave and just answer Bluestreak's question in a vain attempt to salvage something, but Bluestreak spoke before he could.
"It troubles you. What happened to Praxus troubles you… more than anything I have ever seen. Even more than when Jazz fragmented you."
Prowl just managed to jerk a nod.
Bluestreak scooted sideways, moving closer to Prowl, putting a small hand on Prowl's leg plating. "I don't want to hurt you. If you aren't ready to talk about it yet, I can wait."
Bluestreak smiled up at him and then returned his attention to his educational datapad. And Prowl just kept his denta shut.
He could not make himself utter the words that would correct Bluestreak's misconception about his reasons for wanting to delay this conversation. He did not, could not force himself to speak and his ethical program condemned him for that failure.
But he just could not take that step, not yet, not as he thought about the risk of loosing Bluestreak so soon. But he also knew that keeping his silence now would only further break Bluestreak's trust later.
"Bluestreak, I…" He faltered, hearing himself speak as if listening to a stranger.
Bluestreak looked up at him and shook his helm, patting his armor again. "Don't worry about it. I understand how much talking about Prax… how much it hurts. It's okay."
"I…" Prowl was being a coward. He knew that and lowered his helm with shame. "I thank you, Bluestreak."
A dazzling smile lit up the youngling's faceplate and Prowl felt his spark ache all the more.
… … …
Bluestreak dropped into recharge soon after that, still leaning against Prowl's side. As gently as he could, Prowl repositioned the youngling on the berth and lowered himself down as well.
He was exhausted after a fairly stressful orn, and he would be heading into battle early the next orn. He knew he needed to power down. Yet he just could not initiate his own recharge cycle.
Instead, he stared at Bluestreak; at how the youngling looked so peaceful. And he silently berated himself; first for his concessions to selfishness in the tactical department and then for his cowardice regarding his own involvement with Praxus' destruction – as unintentional as that involvement might have been.
He had assumed that rewriting his ethical programs, that strengthening their integration matrix, would have taken care of such personal failings. Even with his core programming as an enforcer running unencumbered once more, it had not erased such despicable character traits from his spark.
That was when he realized all of his own tampering with his ethical programs really had no hope of addressing his core failings. It had been cowardice and self-preservation that had first led him to join the Decepticons: they were the sure win, the strongest force. He had allowed himself to be convinced that a quick end to the war was more important than upholding his own values.
It had been cowardice and self-preservation that had kept him silent and thus passively accepting of the senseless slaughter of neutrals, femmes and sparklings.
It had even been cowardice and self-preservation that had kept him with the Decepticons as long as he had been there.
Pit, it had even been cowardice and self-preservation that had initially informed his meddling with his ethical programming because he had not trusted himself to act appropriately otherwise. That and he had feared the consequences if he failed. Oh, he had quickly amassed other, legitimate and nobler reasons for doing so, but the initial reason had been fear.
As Prowl lay there, watching the gently cycling vents of the recharging youngling, he tried to remember when and how he had been able to overcome those base and selfish drives.
The first had been Bluestreak. He had surrendered to the Autobots initially out of concern that Bluestreak have a safe place and caring guardians. Prowl had been apathetic as to his own fate, he had surrendered for the youngling's sake even knowing what it would have – should have – meant for him. It was why he had determined to set a good example for the youngling and had thus reinforced his own determination to regain his high ethical standards. That was what had allowed him to stand up to Ironhide when the weapons specialist had wanted to storm that Decepticon stronghold they had found their first patrol together when they had no way to successfully take it at the time.
The second had been to help save Cybertron – the citizens of Cybertron. That and a desperate attempt – a drive – to atone for the wrongs he had committed as a Decepticon. It was what had let him face his fear of medics to allow First Aid, Patch and even Livewire to work on him. It was what had compelled him to go on patrol with the Twins though he had not been sure he would survive. It was what had allowed him to volunteer to run that first, heavily monitored analysis for Smokescreen even though he expected to have his mind stripped of the data after he was done.
The third had been to not disappoint the Prime. That was another reason he had submitted to the Twins, why he had worked so hard to earn the Autobots' trust. That was one of the reasons he had passively absorbed Elita One's assault, why he had not even attempted to defend himself from her. It was why he had agreed to train the Prime in Circuit Su, though that was also an act of reparation for having been the indirect cause of the death of the Prime's first master.
In considering these things, Prowl could not help but notice a pattern: the only times he had acted without some level of cowardice or self-preservation playing a leading role in his motivation had been when he had focused primarily on others rather than himself; when he had considered the welfare of others to be more important than his own.
One slip in that focus and… Prowl softly snorted air through his vents.
On probation as he was, his character failings were not just private affairs, but were on display for all to see. As had happened in the tactical department earlier in the orn. No, it was not just because he was still on probation, Prowl decided. It was because of the nature of his function as well.
As painful and humiliating as that was, Prowl grudgingly decided it was probably for the best. His character weaknesses had already caused enough destruction, had already been the catalyst for enough deaths, that they should not be tolerated by anyone.
Prowl stroked a finger lightly over Bluestreak's helm.
If concern about others, and a determination to do what was best for them, was the thing that gave him the… strength?... to overcome his innate weaknesses, Prowl decided he had to find a way to incorporate that consideration in every decision.
Ratchet had forbade him from making any further alterations to his ethical programming, so Prowl knew he would have to find a different way to make that change. It should not be too difficult, he decided, seeing as he already did that when making tactical decisions in a battle. He just needed a way to apply that to every decision. Especially ones that affected him personally.
In the end, he settled on just writing a short code that would act as an alert on all processes and would remind him to consider the other mechs involved first. It was not as strong a guarantee, but he knew how that with enough repetition, that calculation hierarchy would become habit. And that was the best he could ask for without violating Ratchet's command.
It would do.
With that resolution, Prowl shuttered his optics and powered off his higher energy systems before initiating his own recharge cycle.
… … …
Early the next orn Prowl found himself sitting in one of the troop transports, surrounded by the front-line warriors who would be taking the Decepticon outpost along the badlands that separated the Iacon territories from the territories of Cadnium Plexus. This particular outpost had tapped into a large energon vein and thus was a critical target: the Autobots needed the resources that the base protected.
Knowing the importance of that lonely outpost, the Decepticons had not skimped on the base's defenses. Hence the need for an on-the-ground tactician.
No one spoke to Prowl directly, though quietly murmured conversations between other mechs – conversations between friends – whispered around him. It was a reminder that while he was an Autobot, he did not quite belong yet and it highlighted that he did not truly have any 'friends' among the mechs he was heading into combat with.
It made him appreciate Jazz's continuing efforts to establish a level of friendship between them. Perhaps he should put more effort into doing likewise… without violating proper decorum, of course. He just was not sure if he knew how.
Most of the mechs around him likely assumed he would be a burden – a weak link that was helpless and in need of protection in a firefight – a liability, regardless of the vital function he would be performing.
Much like the medics, Prowl realized of a sudden, remembering one of Ratchet's outbursts on the subjects. "… We are virtually a liability, a liability! When we should be an asset…"
The difference was that Prowl could fight. He also knew he was one of the very few tacticians who was good in a firefight. But then most of these mechs did not know that, even if they had heard rumors from the handful of mechs who had witnessed his fighting ability.
/The first ships are landing in two breems./ Ultra Magnus' voice cut into Prowl's contemplation over the command channels.
Prowl transmitted his acknowledgement and then sent a questioning ping to two of the three ground commanders; Hardstrike and Steelbrow. They responded by sending him their sensory uplinks.
Integrating the minor onslaught of data, his battle and tactical computers whirring up to full speed, Prowl was issuing commands as soon as the first troops' pedes touched the ground. Slipping into his function as into a hot-oil bath, Prowl's previous brooding was pushed into the recesses of his processor. Within moments, the self-doubt that had started to build since the moment in the tactical command when Fusion had pointed out his lapse the previous orn was superseded by his purpose.
Prowl kept enough processing ability set aside to coordinate his actions with the unit he was imbedded with; most of his attention however was on directing the battle as a whole.
And that was where the lines of command – and thus good order – grew fuzzy.
As the senior – and only tactician – in the field, he was coordinating the entire battle, even if Ultra Magnus maintained final operational command. Yet he was also under the command of the third field commander, Drivetrain, who was in charge of the unit he was imbedded with.
Such a set up was not what Prowl would have preferred. It would have been easier if he had been in direct command of his unit as well. But none of the field personnel were comfortable with that idea. In fact, despite everything – despite their willingness to give him their sensory uplink – every single one of the field commanders had vetoed the suggestion.
It was one of those 'glitches' that would need to be worked out. Right.
It was also one of the reasons he had been hesitant to suggest he be the only tactician in the field.
Prowl's denta clenched together even as he moved into formation as ordered. He could not understand how he could be trusted with overall tactical command, but not direct leadership of a single unit. It was illogical enough to make his processor ache.
Perhaps it was because in working through unit commanders, his own orders were 'buffered' in the common-mech's processor. And they saw that buffer as a needed layer of safety in that the 'former Decepticon's' orders were being reviewed by mechs they had come to trust over the vorns. That was the most likely reason Prowl had been able to come up with. The field commanders had more diplomatically stated that it was simply because he had yet to demonstrate proven command ability.
It was frustrating in the extreme, but Prowl had quickly realized arguing would not change any mech's mind… and would, in fact, set them more firmly against him.
So Prowl had acquiesced with nothing more than a single objection, spoken strictly for the record and based on the questionable logistics of such a command structure.
Thus Prowl was now crouched behind a low wall with five other mechs – none of whom truly seemed comfortable having him in such proximity while armed.
Quickly, Prowl directed a flight of Aerialbots to cover Steelbrow's advance, while simultaneously pointing out priority targets to the snipers assigned to that same team.
On Drivetrain's command, Prowl moved forward, sweeping his rifle across the landscape before him. Seeing a Decepticon signal he targeted and fired. He was not the only one to take a shot at the purple mech. Of the five mechs who had opened fire, Prowl's was one of only two that landed a direct hit.
The Decepticon was down before he could even take a shot.
Some of the soldiers around Prowl looked at him in surprise, but Prowl did not register that fact as he was already issuing other orders. Then he fell into place as his team received orders from Drivetrain to move out.
In such a manner, the Autobots made admirable progress, methodically chipping away at the outpost's defenses. Half a joor into the fight and the Autobots had successfully taken half of the outpost's fixed defense platforms as well as eliminating a third of the estimated number of defenders.
But there were things that happened in combat that no tactician could predict, that no tactician could prevent. Accidents happened and reckless risks were taken by various mechs for their own reasons. Good tacticians understood that and learned to compensate as much as possible for unforeseeable accidents by calculating hundreds if not thousands of possible scenarios. Likewise, good tacticians learned the nature of the mechs they were directing so as to be able to anticipate and moderate the excesses and/or weaknesses of the mechs involved.
But even the best tacticians could not anticipate everything…
/Ultra Magnus is down!/ A voice suddenly screamed across the comm. channels, cutting Prowl off in the middle of a series of complex orders. /And half his escort. We need a medic!/
… Nor could they necessarily control when the enemy would simply just get lucky.
Yes, I know it's a little shorter than most recent chapters. But considering what will be happening in the next chapter, you will appreciate the breather… even if it drives you crazy. *Evil maniacal cackle*
Okay, on to more exciting things… kinda.
I believe, based on previous statistics, that we will probably get to 1,000 reviews with this chapter. So, as promised, a quick set of guidelines for whoever gets that 1,000th review. In case anyone has forgotten, that lucky person will get to choose the next one to two shot side-story for Turning Points.
1) Please, please, please be signed in when you post a review (if you have an account) that way we can discuss your idea if necessary. If you are signed in and don't leave your idea in your review (or leave more than one) I will PM you to talk about it. Otherwise, make sure your idea is in the review. (Not to mention I really don't want to have to say "Give a big round of applause to… Guest… for writing the 1,000th review." It's a little anticlimactic.)
2) If the 1,000th reviewer is not signed in and does not leave an idea, or the reviewer states that they have no ideas, then the reward will go to the next reviewer, though credit for the thousandth review will still be given.
3) I do NOT write slash. If your request involves slash it will NOT be written, period. Nor will I write any intentional romance, other than those established (Ironhide/Chromia and Prime/Elita-One). If such a story is the request, it will not be explicit at all. Rather it will be more fluff, even if it is meaningful fluff… in fact, if it were turned into a movie, it would probably be rated G.
4) I will not write something that will totally break characters as they are established. Ie: "Prowl doing something silly" does not fit in the universe and will not be written as a side-story to the universe.
5) I will not publish yet, as a side-story, any future scenes that are essential to the main plot of Turning Points because I do not want to give that type of spoiler (sorry). (For example: Bluestreak getting upgraded to his adult frame, or Prowl getting promoted to commander of the tactical division… or even how Mirage is brought into the story.) Non-essential scenes I will gladly use as a side story. (Note, this does not apply to scenes already published, which you might want to see from a different POV… like Impressions.) I understand that you guys might not know what is and is not an 'essential plot' element. That is one reason why I want you to be signed in, so that if your first idea is not one I can publish just yet, we can talk and figure out something we are both happy with.
6) If, for some reason, you are having a hard time thinking of something here are some ideas: Background stories. (ie: How Elita and Optimus met. What it was like for Ironhide to train the Medics. One of the times the Twins were betrayed by a 'Con defector. A moment from Elita and Ultra Magnus' younglinghood as adopted siblings. The moment Prowl informed Smokescreen of his decision to join the Decepticons… Prowl's reaction when Megatron ordered the killing of sparklings. Etc) A scene already written but from a different POV. ( ie: Ratchet's first impression of Prowl. Sideswipe's POV when arriving to see that Prowl, Hound, Springer and Moonracer had beaten all the 'Cons after Prowl had been rescued. Etc.) Something that was omitted from Turning Points. (ie: Bluestreak and Bumblebee playing. Bumblebee with his guardians. More detail about Prowl and Bluestreak's fun on the training arena from this chapter. Etc.) Something from the Decepticon's POV... So long as it doesn't violate guideline #5.
7) I will not write a side-story that is not consistent with the main story in Turning Points. (ie: Prowl will not be establishing a romantic relationship with anyone in Turning Points … so I will not write a side story where he falls in love.) That type of thing. I recommend being as broad as you can with your initial idea. We can narrow it down and refine it together if necessary, though I will do the best I can with whatever you give me. Keep in mind, however, that if some element of a suggestion does not fit into the overall universe I am writing, I will have to modify it to fit.
I know… a lot of rules and regulations. (No wonder I like writing Prowl, eh?) Seriously, though, I am just trying to help make sure this whole… reader's choice… thing goes smoothly and happily for all involved.
Even if you aren't the 1,000th reviewer, please go ahead and leave me an idea. I might still use it…. I will, of course, give credit for any ideas I use to whoever suggests them.
