"This isn't gonna work!" Sideswipe snarled, throwing his weapon on the ground so hard it would have bounced had it been real, except that the simulated blaster instead shattered into a million fragments of light before the holo-matrix stabilized.
Sunstreaker echoed his twin's sentiment with an equally frustrated growl.
Prowl paused the simulation, taking a moment to consider both frontline warriors. He had to give them credit, despite their obvious reluctance; both had diligently tried to work with him in honing their team-fighting abilities. If he were honest, Prowl was just as frustrated as they were, not that he would let on to that fact.
This time, instead of calling them to order and restarting the simulation, Prowl lowered his datapad. "Do you have any suggestions for something that might work?"
Sideswipe blinked and then looked at his brother. Silver and gold mechs blinked again then turned with perfectly synchronized movements to look back at Prowl. Hesitantly, as if unsure, they edged closer to him.
"Are you asking for our opinion?" Sideswipe asked, head cocking to the side, his optics flickering.
Prowl's optics narrowed. "No. I am not asking your opinion. I am asking if you have pertinent input in how your considerable talents in combat can be employed to better benefit the army as a whole."
Sideswipe opened his lip plates as if he was going to say something, an arrogant quirk to his expression, then he sagged without saying anything. Then he looked at his brother. "He said we have 'considerable talent'!"
Sunstreaker was not as reserved in his mounting anger and his intense glare was far more serious than his brother's even as he cuffed Sideswipe across the back of the helm to silence him. The golden twin kept his attention on Prowl "You are stifling our initiative. You don't want us doing anything but what you tell us to do."
Prowl frowned. "Your 'initiative' is what causes the problem."
Sunstreaker pressed his lip plates together and his engine revved. But he looked away rather than giving further vent to his obvious and growing irritation. The unusual and remarkable restraint both of the Twins were demonstrating made Prowl pause. As loath as he was to do so, he had to acknowledge that maintaining a tight hold on the Twins was not working. Indeed, it only seemed to make them more volatile. He considered the problem for several klicks, letting his battle computer mull over the issue.
The longer the silence stretched, the more nervous the frontliners became, glancing at each other anxiously.
At length Prowl gave a tiny, resigned sigh. "As much as I am loath to admit it, you are right in that this particular approach is not as effective as I had hoped it would be."
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe glanced at each other again, disbelief showing clearly in their widened optics. Prowl gave them a tiny smirk knowing they had not expected him to listen to them. Then he was serious again. "However, your fighting abilities are useless if I cannot direct them."
Sunstreaker's helm snapped up, his optics gleaming. "Then direct us where you want us to fight, but let us figure out how to do it."
Prowl's optics narrowed. "You are asking me to incorporate an intentional level of unpredictability in my strategies with regards to you?"
"Your tactical abilities are considerable." Sunstreaker mimicked Prowl's own words and tone. "I'm confident you can manage."
Prowl cocked an optic ridge, speaking drily. "Thank you for your confidence." He shifted his weight back, crossing his arms over his chassis, his tactical computer still running hot. "Hmm. Will I be able to rely on you to go where I tell you to go in battle? To be where I need you to be, when I need you to be there?"
The Twins looked at each other again, their gazes surprisingly somber as they communicated either over their split-spark or their silent comms. After a handful of seconds they looked back at him. They answered in tandem, "Yes."
Prowl accepted their promise with a dip of his helm, then he let a tiny smile tip his lip plates. It was unexpected in the Twins' experience and was a little frightening to behold. "I can work with that." Prowl finally declared. "Shall we try the simulation again?"
Spirits lifted just a tiny bit, both warriors nodded and Prowl reset the program. At his command the simulation launched into action. As the joor slipped away, Prowl had to admit that this new approach worked remarkably well. The Twins did not always act with the same efficiency he would have preferred, but they did get the job done. They took risks he could have helped them avoid, but they did so without the simmering resentment they radiated when he had attempted more substantial direction.
Curious, Prowl chose the next simulations from among those he had not expected to be able to use for the Twins for several quartex. It was much more complex and realistic. This time, instead of merely telling the Twins where he needed them to go, he included a tiny bit of information about why he needed them there: three Decepticons, including a combined gestalt, had backed a small Autobot strike team into a poorly defensible position and they desperately needed assistance. The ready fury which the Twins unleashed on the enemy was breathtaking, the speed with which they reached the location considerably less than all previous simulations.
They dispatched the Decepticons in question quickly and Prowl sent them to their next target, including the same additional information. They performed with equal enthusiasm. The next time, Prowl only included the target information without the extra data and did not miss the way their performance was less than the previous two times so he went back to providing the extra information. Once again, their response times and performance were excellent.
Prowl continued this for another half joor before calling a halt to the exercise. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe came to stand before him, their fields flaring defiantly, vents heaving from their exertions.
"Well?" Sunstreaker demanded, challenge bristling his armor.
Prowl's lip plate twitched as he decided not to reveal his insight into their personalities. Instead he dipped his helm respectfully. It made both of the warriors blink, jerking their helms back in surprise. Prowl's words – delivered with his usual neutrality – were even more surprising for the Twins.
"As I have said, your combat abilities are impressive. If you agree to work with me in this manner in our future engagements you may just become two of the more effective Frontliners in Autobot forces."
Their faceplates were completely blank for several long seconds and then Sideswipe crowed victoriously, slapping his brother on the shoulder. "I told you he said we had talent!"
Sunstreaker ignored his brother, his faceplates becoming colder as he leaned toward Prowl. "We will become the most effective Frontliners in the Autobot forces."
Prowl let his optic ridge quirk and then nodded to indicate he had heard the golden twin's acceptance of his challenge. "Then we have agreed on how we can work together?"
There was a beat of silence.
"Yes." Sunstreaker growled.
"Yep." Sideswipe was still grinning, then he hit his brother again. "C'mon, bro; loosen up. He just gave us a compliment."
"We are done here." Prowl told them, though there was something increasingly cagy about the way Sunstreaker was looking at him.
"When do you want us back Prowlie?" Sideswipe asked with his usual flippancy.
"It is Prowl." The tactician corrected and then shook his helm. "For the time being I do not believe we need to have any additional training sessions." When they looked at him suspiciously, Prowl nodded again. "The purpose of these sessions was for us to figure out how to work together effectively, not to train you how to actually fight."
At their newly blank expressions, Prowl's lip plate quirked again. He dipped his helm politely again and swept his arm to the training room's exit. "Thank you for your time, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. You may go."
With a cheeky grin, Sideswipe wasted no time in hurrying for the door, glad to be free of the confines of the training room. Sunstreaker followed at a more sedate pace. He got half way to the door then turned back. He closed the distance between himself and Prowl, his engine revving. Prowl tensed at the dark expression and dangerous flicker of the golden Twin's field, but he did not openly react. As effective fighters as they were, Prowl knew he was better, so he merely lifted his chin in silent counter challenge.
Sunstreaker stopped just outside of striking range and when he spoke, his voice was a low growl. "We haven't forgotten what you used to be, Commander. We will cooperate for the sake of our friends and our faction, but do not think we will drop our guard. You might not be a Decepticon agent, but we will never forget there is the possibility that you might be."
"By that logic, any of your comrades might be a Decepticon agent." Prowl's response was quiet but equally intense.
Sunstreaker snorted. "Maybe. Don't think we haven't taken our share of would-be traitors out. But you were a Decepticon. You made that choice once. You could make it again."
The serious intensity of the golden mech stayed Prowl's immediate response. A part of him hoped that the irreverent, former gladiator and chronic trouble-maker from before the war had truly matured into a mech capable and willing to hold such strong loyalties. Instead of responding with the curt reprimand his rank allowed, Prowl kept the frontliner's gaze. His answer was softly spoken, but sparkfelt.
"You overestimate how easy it would be for me to betray the Autobots." Prowl said evenly. "I will not ask you to believe that only on my word, however. I do ask that, as I have made an effort to find out how to best work with you, you will make an effort – eventually – to believe that I am not what you fear me to be."
"Not easy?" Sunstreaker scoffed, ignoring how his brother had taken a few tentative steps back to his side. "All it takes is a change of processor. Just like the first time. And with you out in the field there is an even greater risk you will find yourself in a position where you are captured."
Prowl cocked an optic ridge. "And if I am captured will you seek to rescue me or just try to kill me?"
Sunstreaker's engine revved. "I will petition to be on the rescue team so that I can kill you if we find out you have betrayed us." Sunstreaker snorted air through his vents. "But we aren't stupid. We can see how much good you can do for the Autobots as a tactician. I don't have to like you – and I don't – but I won't let the 'Con's get you if I can do anything to prevent it." Sunstreaker continued to glare at Prowl before nodding once, "Commander."
With that, Sunstreaker spun on his heel strut and stalked out of the training room. Sideswipe followed, though he glanced back with a hopeful grin. "I don't not like you…"
Sideswipe was jerked out of the training room by his Twin's grip on his wrist before he could complete that sentence, leaving Prowl to stare bemusedly after them. He was not sure if Sunstreaker had been threatening him or offering protection in the field. Scratch that, he was not sure if Sunstreaker knew exactly what he had meant. Not that Prowl was surprised. The golden twin was a cesspool of seething emotions held under a thin veneer of civility. He was a case in point why Prowl preferred the order of cool logic, why he had embraced the emotional control that Circuit Su had made him the master of; a skill that his time under Megatron had honed to a fault.
Regardless of whether Sunstreaker had just threatened his life, Prowl made the decision not to follow up on the insubordination. Despite his own certainty, the certainty of the Senior Priest and those who had become his friends in the Autobot ranks, Prowl would not object to having those reluctant to trust him as an unofficial failsafe. He was confident that as he stayed true and continued to prove his loyalty through actions, even the Twins would one day come around.
With a tiny shake of his helm, Prowl shut down the training room and made his way back to the tactical command. He had several more things to accomplish before ending his shift and, in the near quartex they had been back in Iacon after leaving Simfur, Prowl was finally taking half an orn off. In the morning. He did not want unfinished work to nag his processor during that time.
… … …
Prowl read over the various end of shift reports as the mechs under his command prepared to turn over their duties to the night shift. The team responsible for the AllSpark had narrowed the potential host cities to a more manageable list; one he could hand to Jazz for further scouting and evaluation by his Spec Ops agents. Fusion was progressing well with the fundamentals of offensive tactics, though he had not yet consented to allow Prowl to officially train him. Not that it mattered in the long run, only that an official internship would allow him to teach the mech more directly.
The entry request at his office door interrupted Prowl's perusal of the data pads and he looked up, granting entry. Smokescreen gave him a tiny smile, doorwings dipping in respectful, friendly greeting before he stepped in. Prowl gestured to the seat and watched impassively as Smokescreen lowered himself into it.
"How is Groove settling in?" Prowl asked once Smokescreen was comfortable
Smokescreen smiled again. "Pretty good actually. For being a passivist, he is actually something of a natural when it comes to defensive tactics. And he is a Primus-send when it comes to dealing with the AllSpark."
A cocked optic ridge was all the encouragement Smokescreen needed to elaborate. "He knows more about it than any of us. And he knows about protecting it, about locations in every city that are designed to house and protect it. Apparently he liked to frequent the Temple archives during his down time."
"I see." Prowl considered his apprentice and could see that the younger mech had more he wanted to say. "What is on your processor, Smokescreen?"
The white and gray Praxian released a vent of air. "Fusion has been asking me what it's like being your apprentice."
Smokescreen stopped there, not looking at Prowl and obviously not wanting to say anything else. Reading between the lines of what other mechs said was not one of Prowl's strengths, but he suspected he would have to gently coax Smokescreen to reveal what was really bothering him. "Smokescreen…?"
"Have I done something to upset you, sir?" Smokescreen asked suddenly, cutting Prowl off. "Have I done something that disqualifies me from being your apprentice?"
Prowl rocked back, surprised at the sudden question, and even more so by the undertones of hurt in Smokescreen's voice. He took a moment to compose his answer, realizing how sensitive his Second in Command was about this. "Indeed not, Smokescreen. As I have said before, you have acquitted yourself admirably."
"Then why…"
Understanding the real problem, Prowl cut the younger Praxian off. "There is very little I can still teach you when it comes to defensive tactics. You are an expert in that field as well as diversionary planning. You will always be my apprentice and I will always do what I can to aid your continuing professional development. But my role as your mentor will not be that of a direct teacher for much longer, but will transition to strictly that of a mentor and commander. Through Groove you have taken on your own apprentice… after a fashion."
Smokescreen's optics widened as he considered that perspective. "You… you assigned him to me for that purpose, didn't you?"
"Yes." Prowl graced Smokescreen with a tiny, barely there but genuine smile, "While I will always be your mentor, my final official task as your teacher is to help you learn to mentor others. It would have been the same were we still in the Enforcer Corps. Smokescreen, you have had a war to help you hone your skills." He paused, looking at the younger tactician carefully. "You are more than ready to graduate from your apprenticeship into a fledged tactician. You have been for vorns."
"But…" Smokescreen's doorwings flicked randomly, his field fluctuating just as strongly.
Prowl stood, moving from behind his desk to stand in front of Smokescreen and put a hand on the younger mech's shoulder. Smokescreen looked up at him. "But… I just got you back!"
"I am not going anywhere. We are still colleagues."
"There is still so much I have to learn…" Smokescreen's internal temperature was inching upward.
Prowl's doorings automatically flicked in a manner that told sparklings to calm down – thanks to protocols that had been running for over a vorn because to his guardianship of Bluestreak. Smokescreen caught the silent order and smiled.
"Graduating from your apprenticeship does not mean you stop learning, or that I will stop teaching you, Smokescreen. It merely means you have learned enough to be considered a professional in the field." Prowl briefly squeezed Smokescreens arm before pulling back. "Fusion can make an able offensive tactician."
Smokescreen considered that, relaxing palpably. Then he nodded. "I've taught him what I could but… offensive strategy isn't my specialty."
Prowl nodded. "When I was first assigned to the tactical division, you used him as my monitor more frequently than the others in the hope he would learn something despite his open antagonism for me, did you not?"
Smokescreen started to say something at that reminder then stopped himself, doorwings flaring self-depreciatively. "Alright. Fine. I guess he is the perfect candidate to be your apprentice. I guess I can't be upset when I all but tried to set it up back then."
Smokescreen was silent for a long moment, then he met Prowl's optics. "You will still be… act as a mentor when I need one, though? Because I still feel terribly young to be a mentor…"
"You are my second in command, Smokescreen." Prowl's tone was mildly chiding and it brought Smokescreen up. The younger tactician blinked three times and then his anxious expression morphed into one of sheepish chagrin.
"Right. Yes, sir." With an expression that was steadily growing more relieved, Smokescreen pushed himself to his feet and inclined his helm formally. "Good night, sir. Have a pleasant orn off."
"Half an orn." Prowl corrected absently.
"You should take the whole orn, sir…" Smokescreen began but muted his vocalizer when Prowl looked up at him with narrowed optics. "I mean, it isn't like we can't comm. you if something comes up."
"We are in the middle of a war, Smokescreen." Prowl pointed out sternly. "A war in which the conditions are changing by the orn."
Smokescreen's armor flared defiantly, though he ducked his helm just enough to indicate respect. "It isn't like you are leaving the base or anything. And if you can do your job in the field in the middle of a firefight, I know you can do your job from anywhere on the base if something happens. Besides, you never know when you will get another opportunity to take an orn off. And you should enjoy the time you have with Bluestreak. I hear younglings upgrade way too fast…"
Prowl lifted a hand to wave Smokescreen to silence, caught somewhere between bemusement, irritation, and affection at how easily Smokescreen adjusted his arguments to satisfy Prowl's need to logically justify such a self-serving indulgence as taking an entire orn off. But the younger tactician was absolutely right about Bluestreak; he had gotten to spend precious little time with the youngling since his promotion.
At length the black and white tactician ducked his own helm to his Second in Command. "For Bluestreak's sake alone will I follow your recommendation."
Smokescreen grinned at him then and Prowl released a vent of air as he watched his apprentice leave. Considering the perky movement of Smokescreen's doorwings, Prowl suspected that the younger tactician had just won a bet of some kind. For a long moment he was not sure whether to be insulted or amused at the possibility of being a subject to his subordinates' betting pools. Then he decided that, so long as unit efficiency and discipline did not suffer, there was no harm in letting them have their fun. He had the unpleasant suspicion that such mere moments of levity might be all Primus would be granting them in the coming vorns.
Despite his coolly dispassionate exterior, Prowl was actually rather excited to get to spend the next orn with Bluestreak and threw himself back into the handful of tasks he had to complete first. He was just finishing up – editing a report he needed to deliver to Prime before he retired for the night – when he received a comm. from Ratchet.
/Prowl here./ Prowl answered the incoming transmission professionally.
/Prowl,/ Ratchet's tone was curt. /Report to the med bay at your earliest convenience. This is not a request./
Prowl blinked down at the datapad in his hands. He freely acknowledged that Ratchet had the right and authority to issue such orders as the CMO, but the timing of his demand seemed unusual. /Is it an emergency?/ He asked, willing to abandon his report if the situation called for it.
Ratchet was a moment in responding. /No. But if you are not in my med bay at the end of your current shift I may turn it into one./
Prowl blinked again, thoroughly confused. He could tell Ratchet was pulling medical rank, but he was unclear as to the reasons. Not that it mattered, the regulations gave the CMO – or whoever the senior medical personnel on a mission might be – the authority to do exactly that if they felt the need. Furthermore, it would be easier not to unnecessarily antagonize the chartreuse medic. Even so, Ratchet had not spoken to him quite that sharply since before he had begun training him and the handful of interested medical personnel in self-defense. That alone troubled Prowl more than he wanted to admit.
/Acknowledged/ Prowl finally responded. / I will be there in less than a joor./
/Good./ The line cut off.
Prowl blinked again, but decided that he would find out the reason behind the medic's strange behavior soon enough. With a gust of air through his vents, Prowl turned back to the report he was working on, finishing it with a single-minded focus.
True to his word, Prowl arrived in the med bay exactly two thirds of a joor after he had spoken to Ratchet. Not really sure what to expect, Prowl hesitated at the med bay's threshold, but the pause was so short most mechs would not have noticed. Whatever he may have feared, the tactician encountered nothing more extraordinary than a quiet, orderly and only sparsely populated medical ward. He actually stopped moving two steps inside and looked around. Five patients occupied various berths in the main ward while his doorwings informed him that three were in the ICU. A handful of technicians drifted between patients, checking on their systems while only two medics, Patch and a light blue femme, were working together on one of the injured mechs.
As if summoned by his arrival, Ratchet stepped out of the surgical suite, his sharp cerulean optics snapping to Prowl immediately. Prowl stiffened as the CMO walked toward him with the same terseness he had used in his comm. message. "Prowl!"
The unnecessarily loud exclamation in the quiet ward had the unfortunate – but probably intended – effect of drawing everyone's attention, medic and patient alike. Prowl sighed air through his vents but kept his voice calm. "You wished to see me, Ratchet?"
"Yes." Ratchet straightened, pinning him with a hard look. "In two orns it will have been one quartex since that slag in Simfur. You will submit to another exam of the appropriate coding at that time."
Prowl blinked audibly, curious as to why the CMO would go to such extreme measures to inform him he wanted to conduct such an exam. It seemed more like the posturing Hound and Smokescreen had subjected him to when he had first defected, why would… Oh. Prowl had just recently been promoted to a senior commander and department head. Ratchet was ensuring he did not forget that the CMO was still higher ranking than he.
Hiding a tiny smirk, Prowl dipped his helm respectfully. "Understood. That did not necessitate calling me to the med bay in person."
Ratchet's optics narrowed. "I just wanted to make sure. It is easier to argue over a comm. channel than in person."
"Perhaps," Prowl allowed, "but I would not have argued with you."
Ratchet's engine revved. "You did before. And about this very topic."
The two of them were still the center of attention for those in the med bay, though thankfully no one else seemed inclined to intervene. Prowl dipped his helm again, letting his doorwings flick downward just enough to telegraph an apology. "And I was corrected for doing so."
Ratchet's optics rotated upward as he threw a hand up in obvious exasperation. "Slaggit all, Prowl! You are a Senior Commander now. You don't need to think like a…"
"I am hardly thinking like a prisoner, Ratchet." Prowl interrupted the medic, raising an optic ridge and crossing his arms over his chassis. "Rather, it is because I am a Senior Commander that I would not have argued."
"Excuse me?" Ratchet just stared at him, frame stilling entirely.
"It would set a very poor standard if a senior ranking commander argued with medical personnel without good cause." Prowl provided as if that were a foregone conclusion. "Autobot Standard Operating Procedures 62.5.22 paragraph three, Code of Conduct Section twenty subsection 4 paragraphs one through three, Organizational Protocol six section eight, in addition to three other applicable regulations, states that senior medical personnel have the authority to…"
Ratchet finally regained his composure enough to wave him to silence, though a tiny smile was threatening the edges of his stern expression. "I guess I should have expected something like this. If only more of the Senior Commanders felt that way." Then the CMO surprised everyone in the med bay by chuckling.
Their audience's surprise was no doubt compounded when the now amiable CMO clasped a friendly hand to Prowl's shoulder, his expression softening into one of pleased expectation. "Now that that's out of the way; I want to show you something."
The hand on his shoulder nudged Prowl to follow and, seeing as he was not really going to be given a choice, Prowl stepped forward without a fuss. He followed Ratchet – who thankfully removed his hand once Prowl showed he was going to cooperate – to the ICU. Prowl felt his own tension level drop palpably once they were away from their morbidly curious audience. Then he saw the inert frame lying on a stow-away berth tucked up against the far wall of the ICU. His initial suspicions were confirmed as it was to that inconspicuous corner that he was lead.
The protoform was sleek and deadly, meant for quick, precise articulation. Elegant doorwings – almost an exact mirror to Prowl's – arched out from it's back struts and a brilliant cobalt chevron adorned the base of his helm and matched the blue detailing along it's legs and arms. No faction symbol adorned the frame, but that did not keep Prowl from identifying it.
Silently the Praxian stepped up beside the berth. Tenderly, he laid one hand on the lifeless arm and looked over at Ratchet. "Bluestreak's adult frame?"
"Yes." There was obvious pride in the CMO's voice and Prowl knew Ratchet had no doubt labored carefully over it's creation.
"When will it be ready for him?" Prowl asked, his voice respectfully hushed.
There was a definite smile in Ratchet's voice when he answered. "As soon as he is."
… … …
Early the next orn Prowl found himself looking down at two Sparklings, not just his own charge. Chromia had dropped Bumblebee off at his quarters one joor before the first shift began, catching him mere breems before he would have taken Bluestreak to the rec room for their morning energon ration.
"Be good for Prowl, Bumblebee." She told her charge with an excited gleam in her optics. "I'll see you tonight when my patrol is over."
Bumblebee trilled worriedly and had clung to her leg. "Be careful, Chromia."
"Always." She gave him a loving stroke between the doorwings before looking up at Prowl.
Prowl could see well established guardian protocols warring with newly earned trust and ducked his doorwings, despite his own surprise at this sudden change in routine. "I will care for him."
"See that you do." Then she spun away.
Once the blue femme was gone, both younglings looked up at him in unison, doorwings flicking in subdued excitement. Then Bluestreak looked at his friend. "Have you had your energon yet, Bumblebee? Because we were just about to go to the rec room to get ours."
Bumblebee shook his yellow helm. "No. Chromia said you and Prowl normally go at this time and that she didn't want me to have to sit there while you two take your energon."
Bluestreak beamed, then looked up at Prowl only to see the adult was still staring down at them. Then he grinned happily.
With a sigh of air through his vents, and a tiny flick of a smile across his lip plates, Prowl nodded and they headed for the rec room. He knew that the short delay would mean the rec room would have more mechs there than he would have preferred. But Bluestreak and Bumblebee were so obviously looking forward to this outing that he would not deny them.
By the time they reached the rec room, Bumblebee was holding one of his hands while Bluestreak was holding the other. It had amazed the tactician how, after the yellow sparkling had opened up to him following the race he and Ironhide had held in the underground training arena, the youngling had continued to offer the same open trust Bluestreak had from the beginning. It was a precious thing, and Prowl never ceased to be humbled and honored by that trust. Nor did he ever want to disappoint either youngling. For that reason, he determined not to pay attention to the instant stares the three of them garnered as they entered the now teaming rec room.
Over the vorn he had been here, mechs had gotten used to seeing him and Bluestreak come to take their energon. But this was the first time they had seen him alone with Bumblebee. It was a blatant statement that Chromia and Ironhide trusted him enough that their guardian protocols would allow them to leave their charge in his care. It was a significant statement to make, and one that was not lost on anyone who saw it.
Once they had each retrieve their cubes, Prowl followed the two younglings as they scampered to the table of their choosing. It was not one Prowl would have chosen in that it did not allow him to place his back against one of the walls, but he said nothing to either Bluestreak or Bumblebee. They were still young and innocent and there was no need to burden them with the lingering unease he felt at leaving himself so vulnerable to any mech. Besides, he was among, if not friends, those of his own faction.
The two friends talked incessantly as they leisurely sipped at their energon. Prowl listened for the most part, interjecting only occasionally, completely unaware of the tiny smile that affixed itself to his faceplate as he watched the mechlings. The other mechs in the rec room noticed immediately, most having long ago come to the assumption the tactician was unable to generate such an emotional expression, as muted as it was. Staunchly, Prowl ignored any hints he might have had as to the others' regard, realizing that Smokescreen had been absolutely right: Bluestreak was going to be upgrading way to fast.
So focused was he on observing and recording this memory he was almost caught off guard when Hound and Springer paused while walking by their table. Almost.
"Why, hello there." Hound smiled fondly at the sparklings, returning their waves with his own. Then he looked at Prowl. "Good orn, commander Prowl."
Prowl dipped his helm respectfully, "Good orn, Hound. Springer."
Springer was glancing between Prowl, Hound and the sparklings, his puzzlement reminding Prowl that the other scout had not really had much interaction with him personally since the orn he had helped Hound rescue him from the Decepticons. "Uh, good orn… commander Prowl."
Hound shot an unreadable look at his partner then looked back at Prowl. "You taking the orn off?"
Prowl quirked an optic ridge. "Indeed, assuming no emergency arises. You and Springer just returned from a mission to the Itrax Mines, have you not?"
Hound nodded easily, grabbing an extra chair from a nearby table and sliding into it. "Indeed. Late last night. Nothing exciting to report; the mine was closed two vorns ago because it was dry. For some reason the Core has not been renewing energon veins like it has always done."
"The war." Springer said darkly as he too – after considerable hesitation – likewise pulled up an extra chair.
Hound looked over at his friend and flared his vents. "Well, there are still plenty of producing mines available for now. We aren't in danger of a fuel shortage yet."
An uneasy silence settled over the table and Prowl glanced at the two younglings, worried about how they might be reacting to the adults' comments. Silently Prowl made a mental note to look further into the mining operations within Autobot territories. He would also need to look into those controlled by Neutral camps. They might be willing to barter, but such facilities would also be an easy target for Decepticons as supplies dwindled. Perhaps they would be willing to share their produce in exchange for protection from Decepticon raiders. It was worth looking into.
Bumblebee was the one to break the uncomfortable silence. His wide blue optics flicked back and forth between the two scouts. ""What were you doing in a mine?"
Hound looked down at the bright yellow sparkling and smiled warmly. "We were scouting it, little one. That's what we do. We're scouts."
Prowl could not stop his doorwings' flutter of amusement as Bumblebee's optics lit up and he straightened so quickly he almost came out of his chair. "You're a scout? Both of you?"
Both adults nodded, chuckling at his enthusiasm, though Springer glanced uneasily at Prowl as he did so.
Bumblebee's wings vibrated and he trilled excitedly. "That is so neat! You get to go all kinds of places and see all kinds of new things. Have you ever been off Cybertron? Have you ever seen any alien planets?"
Springer's optics were wide, as were Hounds. They glanced at each other and then at Prowl a little uncertainly.
"Bumblebee would like to be a scout after he upgrades to his adult frame." Prowl explained, enjoying the two adults' reactions, though he did nothing to let on to that fact.
Bumblebee nodded vigorously and Bluestreak giggled at his friend's antics. Hound was the one who finally answered. "Well, I haven't been off world yet. Springer?"
Springer glanced at Prowl as if not sure whether he should have permission to address the younger sparkling, then he focused on Bumblebee. "I have. Once. I was part of a science expedition to Arrudax Sigma. Our mission…"
"Oooh!" Bumblebee bounced in his chair, cutting the adult off. "That was the planet with the…"
"Bumblebee." Prowl cut the youngling off, his tone gentle but chiding. Bluestreak flinched, looking at his guardian.
Bumblebee snapped his vocalizer off, looking at Prowl in momentary confusion. Then his processor caught up with what he had done and his frame heated. Little doorwings dipping and chin tucked apologetically, he looked back up at Prowl. "I shouldn't have interrupted Springer. I just get so excited. Sorry."
Springer looked between yellow sparkling and black and white adult Praxians, seeming a little out of his element. However, the look he cast Prowl was perhaps as close to reproachful as he would dare with a mech of Prowl's rank. Prowl however, did not pay the scout any attention and for that reason he did not see how the scout's expression went from alarm when he first reached over to touch Bumblebee's shoulder to surprise when the tactician finally spoke.
"Excitement is perfectly alright, Bumblebee. It is even good. No one is upset that you are excited or that you know so much about your goals. Over time you will learn better ways of managing such excitement." Prowl looked back at Springer and finally saw the other mech's expression. "Is something wrong?"
"I… you just…He…Uh…" Springer cycled his vents and his vocalizer. "S-Sorry, sir."
Prowl frowned. "For what do you apologize, Springer?"
The scout's frame heated. "Um, nothing. Never mind."
"That can't be true." Bluestreak pointed out, his own frame heating as his doorwings twitched as he considered Springer with a look clearly learned from mimicking his guardian. "You wouldn't be so upset if it was 'nothing.'"
Hound chuckled briefly – hiding it behind a cough of his engine and a quick sip of his energon – at Springer's growing discomfort when his cooling fans clicked on. Springer shot Hound a dirty look before his armor tightened over his frame, though he still looked like he would rather crawl under the table than continue the discussion.
"Bluestreak." Prowl gently rebuked his own charge.
Bluestreak looked back at Prowl, small doorwings flared defiantly. "But mechs only act like that around you if they've been mean to you or they are afraid of you or something. I've seen it too many times, so I know it's true. So do you, I'm sure. It isn't fair. I just don't understand why everyone still has such a big problem with you, since you are such a high-ranking commander and all. I just…"
"Bluestreak." Prowl spoke again, waiting for the youngling to look up and meet his gaze. "As you have stated, I am well aware of how mechs react to me. There is no need to make the situation more uncomfortable for Springer than it already is."
Bluestreak started to speak, then stopped himself, his processor spinning as he considered his guardian's words. Then his optics widened as he looked at Springer and realized that, just as he had inadvertently done to Prowl on occasion over the last vorn, he had indeed embarrassed Springer. It caused an uncomfortable feeling in his tanks and he looked down, little engine revving. Next to him, Bumblebee reached over and took his hand, squeezing it in silent support.
Bluestreak's engine hiccupped and Bumblebee looked up at Prowl in silent worry.
Prowl was very aware of the looks of angry reproach the two scouts were now pinning on him – as well as several of those observing their interaction. Shuttering his optics briefly, Prowl silently cursed his weakness with interpersonal communications. He had not spent much time with Bluestreak at all within the last quartex and now that he was finally getting the chance…
Prowl pushed that thought aside and held his open hand toward the now trembling sparkling. "Bluestreak…"
Bluestreak looked up at him, saw the inviting arm and, with a whimper, slid off his chair and onto Prowl's lap. Staunchly, Prowl ignored the two scouts – though he kept his sensors on Bumblebee – as he wrapped his arm around his charge and let his engine thrum soothingly. Bluestreak buried his face in Prowl's chassis, clinging to him.
"I just get so tired of mechs being mean to you." Bluestreak mumbled against his platting, though Hound and Springer could no doubt hear what was said.
"I know you do." Prowl murmured back. "And I know you want to protect me from what you see as injustice." Bluestreak nodded weakly and Prowl let his lip plates quirk into a tiny smile. "I appreciate that Bluestreak. I have always appreciated your kind regard toward me and the trust you have given me. In many ways you have made my transition into the Autobot ranks bearable as you have given me reason to overcome that same suspicion, distrust and fear."
Bluestreak stopped trembling and looked up at him, optics wide with wonder. "You do? I did?"
Prowl nodded in confirmation. "Do you remember what the Prime said when you told him about your concerns on my behalf?"
Bluestreak's head cocked to the side as he thought about that then he cringed, though a tiny smile lifted his lip plates. "He told me to trust you to handle it. I remember that now. Oops. I'm sorry Prowl." Still from the safety of Prowl's lap, Bluestreak looked over at Springer. "I'm sorry Springer. I didn't mean to be rude. I know I get defensive of Prowl and I know I shouldn't, but sometimes I just can't stop myself. I'll try harder in the future. I will, I promise."
Springer gave his own tiny, relieved smile as he answered Bluestreak. "It's alright, Bluestreak." Then, with another somewhat calculating glance at Prowl, he leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. "But you know what? You were right. I wouldn't have been so flustered if I wasn't feeling at least a tiny bit guilty."
Bluestreak's tiny engine revved, Bumblebee's optics widened even further while Hound just quirked an optic ridge. Prowl, however, felt himself stiffen as Bluestreak spoke again. "Guilty?" Then more guarded, "Why?"
Springer's engine revved and he looked up at Prowl; who's expression was just as calm and cool as it had been earlier. He looked back at Bluestreak, finding it easier to talk to the youngling than the stoic adult. "I was feeling guilty about wrong assumptions I had made about him, about his suitability to watch over you and Bumblebee." His optics flicked up to Prowl's. "It isn't my place to second guess a youngling's guardian and I apologize."
Realizing the apology was not directed to him, Bluestreak craned his head back to also look up at Prowl. Prowl kept Springer's gaze as he slowly nodded. Then he released a system's worth of heated air, letting his doorwings droop into a more relaxed pose. "Springer, you are not alone in your doubts as to my suitability as a youngling's guardian; among them myself. Thank you, for being honest."
Springer's frame relaxed then, a gush of air rushing out of his vents. With a crooked smile he hastily raised his cube and took a long drink. "Thank you, commander Prowl."
Prowl gave him a small nod as Bluestreak scampered back to his seat next to Bumblebee and Hound hid another smile behind his own cube.
Giving his armor a tiny shake to loosen and reset the various pieces on their mountings, Springer smiled widely and looked at the younglings. His expression had the two of them buzzing with renewed excitement as he leaned forward. His voice this time was that of a practiced storyteller. "Now, I believe I was telling you about Arrudax Sigma. It was planetary night when my team and I landed. There wasn't much atmosphere on that planet, so our cometary forms weren't particularly hot, which was good. Because the surface of that planet is mostly ice-covered bodies of water. Unfortunately Vector – our communications expert – landed on an unusually thin ice sheet. The atmosphere created just enough heat during entry that he melted it right through." There were horrified gasps from the younglings, muffled by tiny giggles as Springer's tone and expression was that of amusement rather than solemnity.
"Yeah." Springer agreed. "He sank right to the bottom of a two-kilometer deep lake. "It took him nearly three joors to get close enough to the surface we could fish him back out. When we finally got him on dry land he had ice… well, everywhere and he couldn't walk in a straight line. Our medic initially thought it was because his gyroscopic systems had been damaged, but no. It turned out that he had a thin sheet of ice over his visor and everything he saw was fractured because of the way it had crystallized. He thought he was walking in a straight line." There were more giggles at that.
Bumblebee asked him to describe the planet itself, clearly hanging on every word. Bluestreak asked his own questions and the five of them finally relaxed, enjoying the brief time off together. Even though a part of Prowl's processor never abandoned it's consideration of the hundreds of things his job and position required, he had to admit, this was a pleasant way to start an orn.
That was when the intruder alert alarm blared through the base.
First, I have to admit this was something of a transition chapter: tying some loose ends and what not. Don't worry, I know this was not the nicest place to leave you, but most of the next chapter is written already, so hopefully it should be up muuuuch sooner than this one was. Hopefully. And yes, I know this was rather fluffy compared to what has come before, but Prowler needed a little break and a chance to settle into his new role before more slag gets thrown at him…them. The Autobots as a whole…*Evil grin*
Bad news: The notebook that had most of the outline for what comes after the next chapter is missing and none of my attempts to find it have been successful. I have started to re-write most of what I can remember, but… Well, keep your fingers crossed. No, I'm not giving up just because of a little thing like that, it's just gonna take a little more effort.
Anyway, I know this chapter was long in coming and I want to thank all of you who have stuck with this story so far and who have been waiting patiently for this update. You guys are the best.
