Happy Easter! A new chapter, just in time for the weekend and for me to start focusing on finals. This is a pretty long one-hope you guys enjoy!
Skyquake had been getting too comfortable.
There were often the missions out, of course. Their boss would send him and Dreadwing to shake someone down, for information or whatever favour Starscream might be owed. It was usually as simple as that, but a few times they had had to get some poor slagger out of the way. (Dreadwing hated these, and usually Skyquake would do the dirty work. Their honour systems had never quite matched up, after all.)
How much further Starscream expected to go wasn't his business, but from Skyquake's place it seemed he had plenty without needing dirty work to top it.
It was the time at home that had gotten too good. Their new apartment in Vos was dingy, but it was just a place to recharge—they spent nearly all their time either on the job or with Updraft. Skyquake considered that part of the gig easy money. Be nice to the kid, keep Dreadwing happy. Humour his brother, and step in for the little one if things got bad again.
Forcing himself upright, atop the lantern stall he'd smashed, it was clear the bubble had burst.
He pulled himself to his feet with a grunt of effort. Wings and t-cog in place. Chronometer knocked out and comm fizzling. He'd have to rely on his senses, but the dust was already a distracting itch in his vents. Smoke was rising from small fires. Dreadwing would be sparkbroken if Updraft got caught in one.
Their spark link was untouched, so Skyquake didn't worry. If the kid was dead, he'd figure out something comfort for his brother. Dreadwing took failure hard, after all.
(And he wasn't sparkless. If something happened to Updraft out here, than he hoped Starscream picked them for the resulting revenge job.)
People were starting to shout, and cry, but maybe that was his audials resetting after the shock. He shoved past wealthy mechs, injured or not, single-minded in finding someone familiar. Iacon had been sucked of its colour in the explosion. The lights of the Spires had gone out, and it was only wide, frightened optics on passersby that assured Skyquake anyone was still alive.
The further he went, the more the crowd shifted—the smoke cleared, too, so he guessed he was moving away from the epicentre. The cries and screams grew louder, and when a smaller, distant explosion met his audials the panic gripped them. Skyquake finally took to the air. He zipped neatly around some others who had had the same idea, well above the gathering dust.
He had been told that Starscream had training for such tragedies, that his fleet would step in to help the Guard in case of emergency…but Skyquake had yet to see any sleek Vosian jets. Perhaps everyone's commlink had been damaged. Perhaps Starscream was injured, unable to follow his own orders.
What direction had Updraft run in? Bratty little slagger. She was entertaining, and charming, certainly, but her "uncles" spoiled her where Starscream neglected. There was no discipline. Hence her little escape, just before the display began and hell broke loose.
Familiar, faint crying below made his spark rush with relief. Maybe Dreadwing could feel it as Skyquake touched down, shoving past several smaller mechs towards the sound.
"Updraft?" he called. He hoped he sounded soothing. "Little one, come out. It will be alright."
He almost tripped over her in the dust. That…had been easier than expected. Easier, anyway, until he saw the wall that had pinned Updraft in, a beam holding it up just so above her body. Her optics were wide and red in the dark and she shivered, shrinking back.
"I'm stuck!" she wailed. "Where's Smokescreen?"
Skyquake had already dropped to his knees, partway through pulling the debris off her frame. It was fortunate that he had found her, and not one of those skinny Vosians. They would have crumpled under the weight of this, and never gotten her out.
"Are you hurt?" he asked her, but she was already crying. The sobs were punctuated by coughs, which spurred him on to work faster. Foolish, sick little thing, running off by herself.
A figure ran headlong into his side, and brought with him heat on Skyquake's back. Skyquake caught Smokescreen in one arm, and looked him over for a split second. This certainly was the little mech whom Updraft had been so taken with—taken enough, at least, for her to leave all-time favourite Skywarp and rush through a madding crowd.
Skyquake let him go just as quickly. No visible injuries, though he was filthy and scuffed, shivering with hiccuped sobs. His optics darted from Updraft to the growing fire, but in that same instant Skyquake was pulling Updraft free and setting her on her feet.
"Are you hurt?" he asked again. Updraft shook her head, gripping Skyquake's wrist like a tiny vice. A scrape ran up one leg where the beam had caught her, coolant tracts running from her optics through the dirt on her face.
"Am I in trouble?" she asked, choking back a sniffle. Beside her, Smokescreen pulled his arms around himself and shivered. His optics were, wisely, on the flames.
Skyquake sighed. "No. Hold on, children."
In one movement, he had a sparklet in each arm, and had lifted off with a roar of his thrusters. Better to get away from that fire before he had to add storm to the word. The sparklets screamed in unison, and Skyquake gritted his teeth. Flying in root mode did not come recommended. But he and Dreadwing had lived in Kaon, and they had seen factory fires out of control, roaring through whole blocks in minutes. He wouldn't be sticking around to find a more comfortable way out.
He landed only when the air was clearer. The fuzz in his commlink began to resemble something usable, though his chronometer was still shot. Here, Iacon bustled again, albeit with first responders and frightened, chattering bots. Several seemed to have come from the same affected streets, all filthy and leaking energon. When he took a step, Updraft wobbled, and Skyquake simply picked her up and set her against his hip. The other one's wrist stayed in his grasp, and Skyquake pulled him along beside them.
"I'm gonna…" Updraft's voice was hoarse, but not rasping. Perhaps her vents were undamaged. "I'm gonna bet that that's not what usually happens on New Year's."
"No!" Smokescreen cried, jogging after Skyquake. "No, they turn into fireworks! Mister, I want my carrier!"
"Look for them, then," Skyquake said. He barely masked his impatience. "Quietly."
For a looming, filthy mech lugging two sparklets, he was going remarkably unnoticed. He and Dreadwing had studied this city on their way to it (Starscream had been likely to send them out while they were here—dirty work followed their Senate like acid rain hit the wastes) and a high-caste hospital was somewhere this way. Ark-1 Memorial, or some other pointless name. A frightened parent would reasonably search there, and the children could be looked over by a professional.
There, now. Dreadwing could no longer say he was phoning it in whenever they entered Updraft's world. He, too, had just saved her spark. And now they would be connected.
The hospital was a flurry of messy, roaring activity. It was significantly more like the Kaonian ER, in all its grime and anxiety, than the trim polish of the Vosian hospital. Skyquake had to tighten his grip on the sparklets to make sure the panicked mob didn't knock them away. Somehow he doubted he'd have the same good luck twice, finding them
Outside, the roar of Pyrobot sirens went by. Updraft quaked against his shoulder.
An orderly finally stopped them, just as Skyquake had found a corner to wait it out in. She was about a third his size, with yellow optics that blazed.
"Injuries?" she asked sharply. In Skyquake's arms, Updraft shivered. Skyquake decided this medic was alright—no-nonsense, and looking at Skyquake's looming bulk without fear.
"Chronometer's shot," Skyquake said. "These two seem well, but an examination-"
"You can wait," she said, and Skyquake realized she had already run a scan on them. "Don't get in the way. And—hm. They're not yours."
It wasn't a question. Skyquake, at a glance, was from the caste of rougher fliers, not his charge's like. Updraft lifted her head and brightened her optics. "He's my bodyguard," she said. "It's okay."
The orderly pointed out a clock, looking pointedly at Skyquake, and was gone without another word. He let go of Smokescreen's wrist and the sparklet sighed, sliding down against the wall. Updraft pushed against his shoulder, but Skyquake didn't let her go.
"Can you reach anyone?" she asked. "My comm's fuzzy."
Skyquake shook his head. "I believe the explosion affected inter-bot radio. I only have yours." The others might well be out looking for them, or trapped. To reassure her, he sent a message: They are trained soldiers. They will find you.
Updraft nodded, and said nothing more. She looked much smaller afraid, nothing like the lively, mischievous creature Skyquake had gotten used to. Smokescreen was sniffling, knees curled up to his chest, and Skyquake simply didn't know what to do about that. He decided, after a moment, to do nothing. The little mech would have to find his parents.
"What should we do?" Updraft asked finally. Skyquake looked around. Several bots had just come in sporting wounds Skyquake would have hesitated to inflict. The flurry of activity reached a roar, and Skyquake tucked Updraft against him. With his free arm, he pulled Smokescreen in against his leg.
"Sleep," he said.
After what must have been hours (her own chronometer was off-kilter, too), Updraft had not even managed to doze. The shouting of medics and frightened patients, the screams of people looking for loved ones…even if she hadn't been worrying sick, she wouldn't have managed a rest.
With her optics offlined, she heard Skyquake speaking quietly with Smokescreen. Smokescreen repeated a string of numbers, carefully memorized, and Updraft recognized them as a comm frequency. She hoped Smokescreen's parents weren't dead. Maybe Skyquake would find one on that frequency, and bring them here to get him.
She hoped her family wasn't dead.
Skyquake sat up abruptly, swore, and Updraft bit back a yelp. Just as quickly, he had sighed and sat back, Updraft quivering against his side.
"I thought I had a lock on Dreadwing's comm," Skyquake said. He sounded apologetic. "But…not quite. Go back to sleep."
"Is he dead?" Smokescreen asked. Updraft stiffened, but Skyquake didn't. He only shook his head.
"If Dreadwing was dead, I'd know it." He tapped his chestplate. "Split spark. We feel each other's life force."
"That's a cool name," Smokescreen murmured. "Dreadwing. Awesome."
Updraft would have had a million questions about split sparks any other day. For now, she resolved to do as she was told. It was hard to sleep imagining Skywarp's wings pinned under wreckage, or Starscream's paint burned off, or any of them worse off than that. She wondered what would happen to her if they died. She had just read about the castes again yesterday, and about who could have sparklets without state permission—Dreadwing and Skyquake couldn't take her, if the others were gone. Maybe Smokescreen's parents would like her enough to adopt her, if they found them—but they didn't live in Vos. They didn't even fly. Maybe she'd go into a foundling home (there was a small one in Iacon, she'd seen it on the map) and they'd pick her function for her.
"Updraft!"
Her worries evaporated. She was jerked out of Skyquake's arms and pulled down, hard, to the floor. Thundercracker's optics were wild and bright, and he was as filthy as the rest of them. He looked ridiculous on the ground, the deep blue of his plating dulled and his wings twitching.
"You're squishing me!" Updraft gasped. "Ouch!"
She heard Skyquake leap up behind them, and the soft clang of Smokescreen pressing himself against the wall. Thundercracker didn't loosen his grip, tipping Updraft's chin and moving her helm around to look.
"Are you hurt?" he asked her, with an edge in his voice she'd never heard. "Any coughing? Why haven't they gotten you a room?"
Something sticky was warm against her knee, and when Updraft looked down she saw blood. "You're hurt!" she said, voice high with fear. "I'm fine. Skyquake took care of me."
"So I see," Thundercracker said, finally standing on shaking feet, bringing her with him. He wasn't looking at her now, but at the wound in his side. "I'll need a patch, but it's clotted. Yeah. Nothing serious, Updraft."
Thundercracker was trying to sound like himself, but that edge in his voice was still there, and it made Updraft's tanks churn. When his wild optics turned onto Smokescreen, she fought the urge to jump down from his arms and protect him.
"Your parents probably aren't dead," Thundercracker said. If he had spoken to Updraft in that voice, she would have run for cover. Smokescreen, to his credit, stood firm. "It looks like the fatality count is low, though injuries will bring it up. Don't harass this girl again, grounder."
Smokescreen's face fell, and Updraft tried to wriggle out of Thundercracker's grasp.
"He's my friend!" she said, voice high. "It's not his fault! I snuck off! TC, where are Skywarp and Starscream? And Dreadwing! They're split-spark, you know, I bet Skyquake's worried and—"
"Hush!" Skyquake said sharply, suddenly agitated. Smokescreen retreated, back against the wall, and Thundercracker simply tightened his grip.
"I'm going to check her in," he said, shifting Updraft's weight. "If you're not currently dying, keep waiting with that one."
Before Updraft could protest, Thundercracker had weaved into the crowd. Smokescreen's blue optics, bright like lanterns, followed her away until someone cut behind them, and she lost sight. Thundercracker's steps were brisk, a mech on a mission as he pushed towards the front desk.
It took some arguing for him to secure a room, and Updraft could tell he wasn't used to it taking so long. Caste won out in the end, and Updraft tried to shrink back from the gazes of bleeding, dirty mechs, still waiting for treatment as Thundercracker took her upstairs. She watched the nurse's back ahead of them, straight and red, and tried to focus.
"When will a doctor be with us?" he asked, setting Updraft on the berth.
The nurse was already feeling over Thundercracker's wound, setting a patch in place to cover it. "When they're not completely slammed," he said, pushing the new metal in place. It was ugly against his plating, where Thundercracker had polished so thoroughly that evening.
Updraft watched the nurse rush back out, the door closing hard behind him. Thundercracker made a low, angered sound where he stood, and she had never seen his wings dipped so low.
"I want…" She regretted opening her mouth, as soon as he was looking at her. "I want to go back down."
Thundercracker looked up. "What? No. No, you're not. Just…" He dropped onto the berth's edge, looking tired and small. "Just rest, okay? We don't need your SRD flaring up on top of…this. All this."
Updraft almost wished that they had stayed in Vos, for New Year's. She and Skywarp could have gotten red lanterns and put them out together. They could have gone onto the balcony and counted down together, and when it was after midnight they would look at the news, and see the explosion, and everyone would be so relieved they'd decided to stay.
But Smokescreen still would have been here, and Updraft would never have met him. Maybe he would have died with Skyquake. And maybe having a friend that she could really talk to, and just play with, would have kept eating a big hole in her spark. She hadn't noticed the emptiness until she'd lost him again.
"Thundercracker?" she asked. Her voice was soft. He looked up, and seemed surprised—Updraft called him TC almost always, these days. "Do you know what happened to Starscream? And Skywarp?"
"Starscream's fine," Thundercracker said. His voice was like a sigh. "He's out there running patrols with some of the fleet, in case the attackers show up. He sent me out to get you." His optics dimmed, almost offlining. "I don't…we don't know where Skywarp is. He isn't answering his comm."
"Skyquake says the comms don't work, where it happened," Updraft said. It didn't make her spark feel any less tight. Thundercracker nodded, but it didn't seem much like he believed her.
"Don't worry," he said, not reassuring her in the least. "I'm sure he's out looking for you. As soon as he's in range, I'll…ah. Primus." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What a way to start the year."
Updraft shifted herself over, until she was touching Thundercracker's arm. "I love Skywarp," she said quietly. "I hope he's okay."
"Me too," Thundercracker said, after a long moment. His arm came around and pulled her in. Updraft slumped.
"You love him too, right?" Updraft said, voice almost inaudible. "You really love him."
Thundercracker's wings went stiff. His grip tightened a fraction around her frame. "I do," he said finally. "I love him very much, and because of it I am going to give him hell for scaring me like this. Okay?"
"Okay," Updraft said. Thundercracker didn't answer her again, and the only sounds were the shouts outside and the sirens of Pyrobots.
An orderly interrupted their uneasy calm, opening the door too loudly. His feet clanged against the floor. "Are you Skywarp of the Vosian Heights's conjunx endura?" he asked. He fumbled over Skywarp's unwieldy full name, and Thundercracker sat up sharply.
"Is there news?" he asked. Updraft watched his hands reach out and twitch towards the orderly.
"You have to come with me," the orderly said. His voice stuttered, and so didn't Updraft's spark. "I'm afraid—it's very serious. The sparklet will be looked after, but you have medical rights over-"
"Where is he?!" Thundercracker snapped. He was already pushing past the orderly, and Updraft followed, jogging to keep up with his pace. His wings had gone much too straight, too stiff. Everything about him sang terror, and Updraft's spark pulsed with it. Was Skywarp dying? What had happened to him when the lanterns had gone out?
"I want to see him!" Updraft cried. She ran after Thundercracker, but was stopped short by a pair of strong, unfamiliar arms. They scooped her off the ground, and Updraft kicked at the mech's chestplate. "No! No! Put me down—"
"Stop that," the mech said sharply. Updraft realized with a jolt that she'd met him before. In Vos, he had taken her pulse, and given them medicine. He had defended her from Starscream as best he could. Doctor Pharma had been gentle then, but now his optics were hard.
Updraft tried to twist around and see. "I want to see Skywarp! You can't keep me away!"
"Yes, I can," Pharma said. "I'm taking you back to your room. There's enough to do here already without sparklets underfoot."
She kept kicking, and yelling, as he turned on his heel towards their room, but his grip was firm. Updraft had dissolved into sobs by the time he dropped her on the berth.
When Pharma tipped up her chin, she tried to look away, but his optics had softened. Blue, like much of Iacon's. Like Smokescreen's.
"If you stay here, and stay well, they won't have to worry about you." His voice was gentle pressure, like a hand on her back. "There's enough for the adults to worry about, but it will reassure your friend if he hears you're well."
"You'll let him know?" Updraft asked. She slid herself back from him, against the headboard.
Pharma's optics flickered. "I'm sure Thundercracker will. A nurse will be in later to check on you."
Updraft watched his optics become hard and focused again, and in a moment he was turning, back out the door. She'd gotten very familiar with the click of a lock behind someone, and slumped. It would be a long day.
She put on the holoscreen, but the news became unbearable quickly. The scenes of the Spires' destruction graced every station, and she could see that the small fires were now roaring. She saw jets in the background of one shot, but not any she knew. None of the programs she liked were on, in light of the disaster. Updraft dozed off to the sound of casualty lists.
When she woke up, there were voices at the door and light pouring in, the soft sound of the newscaster still buzzing. Updraft grabbed a thermoblanket off the table and pretended to be in recharge.
"—Only 21 deaths," Starscream said. Updraft kept herself serenely still. "That will rise, of course, but truly remarkable, considering."
Why did Starscream care about the deaths of strangers? Updraft felt his hand on her forehead and stayed put.
"A lot of trouble for one murder," Dreadwing said. Updraft's spark rushed with relief. That was all of them accounted for, then. "Senseless waste of life."
"The only way for such a movement to reach Nominus was this," Starscream said. He had stopped touching her just as quickly as he'd appeared. He sounded like he was by the window. "Fools. If you ask me, it was an inside job."
Updraft looked for Starscream's usual bite, waiting for him to lose his temper. All she could read was exhaustion. She wondered if he had had a wash yet, because Updraft certainly hadn't. The grime was quickly getting irritating, now that she'd remembered it. The third set of heavy footsteps, she guessed, must be Skyquake's. She hoped Smokescreen had found his parents.
"I believe it's an assassination if the person killed was the Prime," Skyquake said. He dropped into a chair, one that squeaked when he settled his weight.
Starscream responded with a soft, annoyed sound. The channel changed. "Leave us," he said. "And see about that idiot Skywarp, would you? He must be out of surgery by now."
Skyquake's chair creaked again, and Updraft heard the words "—when I'd just sat down" as he and Dreadwing filed back out. Her spark clenched. Alone with Starscream could mean being ignored, so she really could fall asleep. It could also mean feeling like the worst person in the world, as Starscream woke her and berated her for leaving, and nearly getting herself killed all over again.
Her tanks churned in dread when she felt his hand on her shoulder. "Wake up," he said. Updraft did so slowly. She made a show of onlining her optics and lifting her head, like she had been resting deeply.
She had been right—Starscream was filthy, more black than silver, and she could see his and her bodyguards' tracks around the room. Her own head had left a layer of grime on the berth, and she winced in disgust. The leading edges of Starscream's wings oozed energon, paint scraped clear off his left side. His optics pulsed dark, exhausted. There was no anger or disgust—and that surprised her, because they were both disgusting.
"You little fool," he said. Updraft felt no sting. She was relieved to see him alive, and he seemed to feel the same for her. Not since she was very small, before her upgrade and sleeping against his chest, had she felt like that. (And she did remember, a little bit. It was the very first thing she remembered.)
Starscream reached up and tapped, right between her optics. Updraft shrank back on reflex, and her carrier raised a brow.
"I need to recharge there," Starscream said. "You're dirtying it up, and my vents are near caked with this slag." He stood back up, and motioned to a door. "We'll not waste time taking turns. Come."
Updraft stood up, and slid off the berth. The washrack was small, and utilitarian, but there was enough space for one Seeker and one sparklet to wash in silence. As her red plating re-appeared, Updraft couldn't help but shudder. She had been so dirty, down to her optics and the inside of her mouth…a year ago, Starscream would have put her out with Dreadwing and Skyquake.
A year ago, she would have been left alone in Vos, to get her own energon and jump up to reach the taps.
She was done before Starscream, only cuts and scrapes revealed by her wash. He went slower, wincing as he ran the cloth along his wings. Updraft could still read a few of last night's glyphs, carefully written by Thundercracker before they'd left that night. Most were smudged off, but Updraft made out "carrier of one" and something pleasant about clouds. It all seemed very flowery, uncharacteristically poetic, and Updraft wondered if Starscream had any idea what his trine had put on him. Maybe he didn't mind.
When they were through, Updraft felt better. The worry for Skywarp still clouded her systems, but she felt more like herself when she was clean. Starscream stood straighter, too, his biolights brighter. He pointed to a couch, wide enough to be her pull-out berth.
"Recharge," he ordered. "I've booked you an exam for tomorrow."
Updraft, reaching for her thermoblanket, paused midway. She steeled herself, and looked at Starscream.
"Can I see Skywarp tomorrow?" she asked him. Her voice barely wavered. "Is he okay?"
Starscream stiffened. For a split second, everything about him flashed fear, the kind that had consumed Thundercracker. Updraft wondered what Skywarp would think of that. Starscream sighed, as if answering her was a great trial on him.
"I haven't heard," he said. His expression was unreadable, as he looked down at her. "I've put in another request for his charts, but I may have to wait on Thundercracker. And, no, you can't see him yet." He pointed, again, at the couch. Slowly and sullenly, Updraft reached for her blanket and trudged over. She curled up facing away from him, and Starscream sighed.
"That idiot had better live," he said. His voice was softer. "I'll have no right wing, and you'll be uncontrollable." He flopped backwards, onto the berth. "Goodnight, Updraft."
Updraft's tanks were clenched so hard they ached. She wanted to purge, but exhaustion finally won out. She slept.
Updraft made sure to be a nuisance in the morning, when the doctors came to see her. Starscream left her with Dreadwing, who was clearly unhappy with her kicking and twisting on the examination table. His firm hand on her chest, and the warning to "let the poor mechs do their work," was only enough to still her. She didn't cooperate, and her examiners moved her like she was a doll.
One was Pharma, and she would have tolerated him, but it was Ratchet who made her scowl. Why was he allowed to touch her, anyway, with wheels on his frame and a good doctor already with her? She went limp under Dreadwing's hand when he followed Pharma in, and watched his optics flicker in recogntion—then irritation. She made sure to ignore him completely throughout the exam.
"Count yourself lucky," he grumbled, as he gave Updraft a final scan. "There are plenty of others worse off than you." Dreadwing's optics flickered in surprise as Ratchet turned from Updraft, to train the scanner on him. "You—I'll run a diagnostic in a moment. Some low readings."
Dreadwing huffed. "They're not paying you to look after me."
Ratchet had already turned away for more tools. "They're not paying me at all. I'm here to ensure survivors are cared for, and this one is cleared to go." Updraft straightened up, as soon as Dreadwing's hand pulled back.
"Can I go see Skywarp, then?" she asked. Ratchet frowned.
"You asked when we came in," Pharma said. He, as Skywarp would say, had "checked out," already packing up for the next patient. "Sparklets are banned from ICU as much as they were ten minutes ago."
Updraft scowled. "You'd better hurry and fix him up, so I can go in!"
"Updraft." Dreadwing's voice was soft and warning.
Her scowl deepened, and Dreadwing's optics grew bright. Updraft finally slumped—it was pointless to argue with him, when he was being serious. He valued good behaviour, something Updraft had been unwilling to give.
Pharma left quietly, without so much as a look in Dreadwing's direction. There was something unsettling about how he met Ratchet's optics (disapproval? Updraft ought to know that well enough), but Ratchet continued his scans of Dreadwing's systems.
"Prescriptions cost shanix," Dreadwing said flatly. He didn't reach out for the script from Ratchet's hand.
"And rust infections reach the spark chamber," Ratchet said. He thrust out the chip. "The Senate is covering basic care resulting from the explosion. A gift to its people."
The edge in his voice unsettled Updraft. With the way Dreadwing stiffened, she guessed she was right to be nervous. (She also guessed it wouldn't be something worth explaining to her.) Dreadwing's wings twitched, but he finally took the chip. "Some gift."
"You're telling me," Ratchet said. He lowered his voice. "They're not covering non-vital surgeries, of course. There are going to be a lot of limps and pains in my clinic."
"If you can take without shame," Dreadwing said, in his own dialect. "Kaon saying. Don't repeat that, Updraft of the Vosian Heights."
"I won't, if—" Updraft began.
"—Yes, yes, if you can see your friend," Ratchet snapped. "You're a determined one. And you're both clear."
He all but stalked off, and Updraft tried to puzzle out his kindness to Dreadwing. Maybe he was like Thundercracker, with a warm spark stuck under bad moods. She turned, slowly, to her bodyguard. He sighed.
"I need to fill this, then," he said. "I'll get you a treat on the way."
Updraft brightened a little. She had only drank medical grade since Skyquake had taken her inside. Skywarp must have been sick of it, too, if he was really as sick as they said. Updraft pushed down the thought.
She sipped her sweetened cube while Dreadwing filled his prescription, and liked the looks on the staff's faces when they saw him. He was big and sharp-edged, and—apparently—frightening. No wonder he was a good bodyguard.
She noticed how the hospital had set aside large rooms for their patients. Row upon row of mechs sat in chairs, or lay on floors, waiting to be seen for their injuries. An orderly slammed a door in her face when he caught her staring, and Dreadwing pulled her along by one hand. She hadn't wanted to see all that much, anyway—the sounds the patients made really were frightening, and the smell of spilled energon burned her nose.
It would be easier to sneak off here. In busy Iacon, sparklets were easier to come by, and few people looked twice at her. Today, the idea made her tanks churn, and she was careful to stick close to Dreadwing. His gaze was hawklike on her, so she didn't give him reason to strike. In the pharmacy proper another sparklet stared at her, held in the arms of their caretaker. Updraft looked away, scowling.
Sensing her patience waning, Dreadwing took Updraft to an upper level. She finished her drink as they looked out at the spires, and Updraft counted jets. One flew better than the others, with just a little more grace, and it only took her a moment to recognize Starscream in the movement. She had seen him go past their windows often enough. What was he doing out there?
Updraft watched people go by in silence. The skyline here was clear—the Spires, and the explosion, were to the north. At some point she'd dozed off, waking up in Dreadwing's arms as he walked quickly down the hall.
"Would you still like to see Skywarp?" he asked her, and Updraft sat up straight. Dreadwing's grip tightened, her feet kicking ineffectually at his chest in an effort to get down.
"Let's go!" she said, struggling in his grip. "Let's go, now!"
"We are," Dreadwing said. "Stop that. It's only for a little while."
He set her down, hand tightly in his, just before a sign that read Intensive Care. The unease that had settled in Updraft's spark flared, and seeing Thundercracker outside a door, his wings too stiff, wasn't calming in the least. She didn't have to pull—Dreadwing knew enough to let her go, and she rushed him. Thundercracker crouched, just in time to catch her.
"Oof. You're certainly not sick," he said, rocking on her impact. He had cleaned up since she last saw him—where was Thundercracker recharging? His optics were bright, a little overcharged, and Updraft wondered if he had been sleeping at all.
"Is Skywarp okay?" she asked, the words tumbling out. "Is he awake? Starscream said he might die, and-"
Updraft clamped her mouth shut at the way Thundercracker's expression shifted. He was silent for a second, optics flickering as he regarded Updraft. "He'll be okay, soon, but he's not awake yet. In a few more days. Updraft, do you know what CR chamber is?"
Updraft nodded slowly. One of their lessons, an offhand thing that had seemed so far away from her life. "Is Skywarp in one?"
She hated Thundercracker's wince. "He'll be okay," he said again, and it seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than her. "But he needs to stay in it for another couple of days. The nanites in the fluid help speed self-repair."
She couldn't help the urge to ask. "Why didn't you put me in one?" she said, thinking of her time hooked up to a hospital berth. "When I was sick."
Someone opened the door, and Updraft could hear the beeping of machines, many more than her own hospital stint. Thundercracker stood up, his big hand around her small one. "It depends on the damage," he said. "Let's go in now."
Updraft took his hand, vented in deeply, and followed. The room was spacious and white, and the smell of disinfectant stung her sensors. There was a berth, surrounded by equipment, but it was empty. Against the room's other wall, a nurse was returning to his station, watching a blue, glowing screen next to-
-Well, it was Skywarp, though she had never seen him like this. She had never seen anyone like this, not even on the holoscreen. Skywarp was suspended in liquid, wires and tubes snaking out from his spark, his t-cog, the side of his face. His optics were offlined and shuttered, his injured areas neatly patched. He looked restful, even inside this tall, alien tube.
Updraft wanted to rush towards it, bang on the glass until Skywarp woke up and spoke to her. Smiled, blew bubbles, anything but this terrible stillness. Maybe there was a button inside that he could press, to drain that awful fluid, so he could walk out on his own two feet and grin widely at her. Better yet, he could teleport right out, in front of them. She would hug him, even sticky with repair nanites. She would sob.
This second, she couldn't bring herself to do even that. She watched as Thundercracker reached out a hand, steady as it pressed against the glass. Updraft waited for a twitch of Skywarp's fingers, though she knew it wouldn't come.
"I brought Updraft," Thundercracker said softly. "You'll see her soon, for sure, but I wanted you to know she's fine. They say you can hear sometimes, from inside those things. She's been very brave."
Updraft didn't know what to say. "Hi, Skywarp," was what she settled on, her voice weak. She took a few deep vents, before she found words again. "I miss you."
Thundercracker squeezed her shoulder, and Updraft forced herself to stand up straight. Thundercracker had plenty to worry about without Updraft starting to cry.
"What happened to him?" she asked finally. Her voice was hoarse, tired. "What got him so hurt?"
Thundercracker sighed. "He was in the air when the explosives went off. His wings and some fuel-burning components were damaged in the crash." He rubbed Updraft's shoulder, trying awkwardly to comfort her. "He'll be fine, okay? I know this is scary, but he'll be fine."
"Are you scared?" Updraft asked him. Silence. She glad Starscream wasn't here to see this—she could never be sure when he would choose to support his trine, and attempt to knock them down.
After some time, Thundercracker led her back out. It was only when she was back in her room, and she had stepped into the washrack, that she cried. It had gone unsaid, but Skywarp must have been flying to find her—hadn't he? If she hadn't run off, he wouldn't have had to fly, and crash. It wasn't like she'd be seeing Smokescreen again anyway, after all this.
Under the water, running on the highest setting, Updraft could sob in peace. Thundercracker had stayed with Skywarp, Skyquake was away (where had Starscream found missions for him now?) and Dreadwing needed rest. There was no one to get comfort from. So she tried not to need it.
The next few days were quiet, and boring. Updraft watched documentaries, and the news, and bathed twice a day. Dreadwing shook his head at her, but no one stopped her from wasting water and solvent. Staff checked on her daily, and by the way some grumbled, it was clearly on Starscream's orders. She saw Pharma once, when she peeked into the hall, and she had to be satisfied with his acknowledging nod. Starscream and Skyquake simply didn't come back, and Dreadwing was often distracted, on the comm with one or both of them.
Once, while Dreadwing dozed (the prescription made him sleepy, he said) Updraft did sneak out. Even five minutes with Thundercracker, even just a wave, would be better than being alone. Maybe Skywarp was resting in a berth now, not that awful CR chamber, and she could touch him. The intensive care floor was well-marked, not hard to find, and Updraft had already zeroed in on the corner she had to turn, when—
"What do you think you're doing?"
Red hands gripped her shoulders, and Updraft sighed. "I thought you were too busy to deal with me," she said, already trying to push forward, out of Ratchet's grip. The doctor held fast. "And you had important things to do, like treat patients, and—"
Ratchet was already steering her back towards the elevator. "I have a few kliks to keep you out of dangerous wards," he snapped. "I know you're worried about your friend."
"Yes!" she shouted. It echoed off the walls. "I want to go home with them! I hate Iacon!"
Ratchet was muttering as he pulled Updraft into an elevator, and held her firmly away from the buttons to other floors. It sounded like "you and me both, kid," but she couldn't be sure. The growled "Stay in your room," she definitely heard, and she shuffled to the door under his watchful gaze. She hated Iacon, she hated hospitals, she hated doctors. She hated Starscream, too, for being gone, and her bodyguards for not knowing what to do with her. She even hated Skywarp and Thundercracker—one for scaring her so badly, and the other for being so frightened in the first place.
She was wiping coolant from her optics as she shut the door. Dreadwing had sprawled out on the berth, and on a better day Updraft would have grinned at him. Dreadwing was stoic and careful when awake, every movement carefully considered. In recharge, he had one foot hanging off the berth, his arm flung over his face. Updraft climbed up to the foot of the bed, against one of his legs. He didn't stir. She curled up, and offlined her optics. Comms revealed nothing, not even a ping of acknowledgement.
She hadn't realized she'd started to cry until hands were on her shoulders, jarring her back to reality.
"Oh, come now," Skyquake's voice said. Updraft clicked her optics back on in surprise, just as Dreadwing sat up behind her. "And you, brother—sleeping away while she cries. I thought you were the dedicated one."
Updraft sagged. She let Dreadwing pull her in, and Skyquake sat back, regarding them. He didn't look all that disheveled, and Updraft wondered, again, where he had been.
"You've been lonely," Dreadwing said. "We've been distracted, forgetting how that hurts you." He patted her shoulder with his free hand—awkward, but genuine, and Updraft opened her mouth to speak. Something like a sob came out instead, and Skyquake sighed.
"I have a little surprise for you," he said. "But perhaps I'll wait until you're not a crying mess."
Updraft was about to feel insulted, but she noticed Skyquake's optics in time, twinkling with mischief. She sat up. "What? What's my surprise?"
Skyquake smiled. Over her comm, she received a frequency, one she didn't know. "Save that, little one. When things have calmed down, try it out."
"Can I try it now?" Updraft asked. Her spark thrummed, stowing the frequency in her files. Maybe it was a better way to reach Thundercracker, or a radio program to keep her entertained. She was fast running out of things to watch.
"Soon," Skyquake said. "The surprise won't work until we're leaving. You'll spoil it otherwise."
"I know you can't stand to wait," Dreadwing said. "Impress us this time, though."
Skyquake leaned in, his grin crooked. "And, remember: this is your secret," he said. When Updraft tilted her head, confused, he chuckled. "You won't get to keep it if your carrier knows. Or your friends."
Updraft still hadn't fully grasped what he meant. Dreadwing, reassuring, touched her head. The same mischief wasn't radiating from him, but he didn't seem to disapprove. Most importantly, he was awake, and his presence was comforting. Updraft could be satisfied with that.
"You must be very bored," Skyquake said after a moment. "With old Dreadwing sick and grumpy. And your new playmate gone, too."
Updraft winced—now, when she was feeling just a little bit better, she didn't want to think about Smokescreen. "Tell me a story?" she asked, finally settling against Dreadwing's arm. "A good one. About gladiators."
"There you are," Dreadwing said, and now Updraft could hear his smile. "I was getting worried that the old Updraft had left us entirely."
"No shortage of gladiator's stories in Kaon," Skyquake said, holding his chin in deep thought. "Have we told you about the first great pit fighter?"
Updraft wriggled, already anticipating. "No!"
There had been no lessons, nor stories (better than a really good lesson) since they had arrived in Iacon. For over a week there had been nothing at all, and this little thing felt like the sun coming up. She decided she couldn't hate her bodyguards after all. They knew better than she thought. "Start the story!"
"Yes, yes," Dreadwing said. The few times she had heard one of their stories, they had told it back and forth. "A long time ago, long enough ago for there to be no city-states, and two moons in the sky..."
Updraft dimmed her optics, but didn't doze. Skyquake continued, perfectly in tandem, and she listened to their story of the first gladiator, how he had fought off every monster in Kaon until it was all he knew. Thundercracker and Starscream disapproved of these legends, she knew, and the Kaonians were careful not to tell them too much. She must have really been upset, to earn such a treat.
She listened, and didn't think once about her surprise.
When Starscream re-entered her life, it was with a flurry. Her carrier stood at a storage unit, throwing anything he could grab aside as he searched for something. He was prim and polished, like he had never gone anywhere, and Updraft looked from him to the twitch of Skyquake's lips as he bustled from drawer to storage unit.
Finally he threw up his hands. "I'm already late!" he snapped, before he noticed Updraft sitting up. "You! Wash up, now."
Updraft rubbed her optics. "Why?"
"Skywarp's awake." Starscream's tone was clipped, and he threw a thermoblanket aside as if the news didn't matter. "He won't shut up about you, and-"
Updraft shrieked, throwing off her own thermoblanket in delight. Starscream scowled. "Watch your vocalizer! Or I'll change my mind."
She had never scrubbed so fast in her life, and she probably missed spots, but for once she didn't care a bit. She only stalled when she tried something—two pings on her comm, to the people she was going to see. When she was acknowledged not just by Thundercracker, but by Skywarp, too, she knew it was real. She dried off, slammed the washrack door, and scrambled past Starscream, for Skyquake's hand. Immediately, he tugged it away, full of mock disgust. "Still damp!"
She grinned. "I needed to be fast!"
"Well, let's go," Skyquake said, already pushing open the door. "Your carrier's not done his mad search."
"What'd he lose?" Updraft asked, trotting along after him. Her spark felt warm, like her red lantern. Skywarp was awake, and Skyquake had started smiling at her—real smiles, without the mischief. He had relaxed, and now Updraft could, too.
Skyquake shrugged. "Get-well gift for Skywarp. Don't worry about it."
Updraft stared. "Starscream only gets gifts for himself," she said, because it was most obvious thing in the world.
Skyquake grinned, and lowered his voice. "I think the gift is just his hospital bill. Don't be too surprised."
Updraft grinned back, covering her giggle with one hand as an orderly stared at them. The Intensive Care sign was as foreboding as ever, but now Updraft knew what awaited her. When she saw Thundercracker, wings held in the right place as he peered past the doorframe, Updraft started tugging.
Skyquake let her go, and she threw herself forward, almost too fast for Thundercracker to catch her. He scooped her up, and Updraft felt his exhaustion. Holding her took real effort, right down to his struts.
So she gave him her best, widest "good little sparklet" smile, and was thrilled when Thundercracker returned it. A tired, crooked grin, one that meant things were okay.
"He's still very tired," Thundercracker said, as if he himself wasn't. "So no running or yelling. Can you manage that?"
Updraft couldn't imagine Skywarp tired, but she nodded, her optics bright. Thundercracker shut the door behind them with a soft click, then set her down. She saw the empty CR chamber, its machines quiet. She decided to never look at it again, and turned towards the important part of the room.
She remembered just in time not to run for the berthside, but barely. Now she saw what Thundercracker meant—Skywarp's exhaustion, just from getting better, went down to his struts. His optics didn't glow quite right, but that crooked, mischievous grin was the same. "Got your comm," he said. His voice was hoarse, and Updraft's spark felt like it would burst.
She was crying by the time she pressed herself against the berth's edge, close to Skywarp's free arm. She shook, and tried not to show it too much.
"You got hurt 'cause of me," she choked out. "I won't be bad again, I—I'm glad you're okay."
Skywarp's expression softened, which didn't make her feel any less overcome. "Aw, hey. Hey—none of that," he said gently. His hand reached up and cupped her face, and Updraft leaned right into the touch. Even soft-sparked, tired Skywarp was still Skywarp, and she would enjoy him for all he was worth. His optics brightened. "You didn't set off any bombs, did you? So no crying about it."
Updraft sniffed, and tried to obey. "I missed you," she said finally. "I was scared."
Skywarp's grin was crooked, and he pulled her in as best he could. She could see that even propped up, this was all taking real effort. "I missed you too." He leaned in, like he had a great secret for Updraft. "CR chamber fluid, by the way? Tastes like slag's slag."
"Watch your language," Thundercracker said, as he paused beside Updraft. She grinned in delight at the language. He reached over her, gently pushing Skywarp against his berth. "And you lie back. You need rest."
"Yeah, yeah," Skywarp said, his optics flickering in his irritated way. But he did as he was told, slowly laying himself back. "All I've been doing is resting."
"And it's all you'll be doing for awhile." Thundercracker's hand rested on Skywarp's cheek. "Or I'll give you a reason to need that CR chamber again."
The words had no bite, and Skywarp knew it. "Yeah, TC. Don't worry so much."
Thundercracker snorted. "Worrying's all I can do."
Skywarp's grin went crooked. "You ought to get a little recharge, too," he said. "Told them to bring a fold-out berth for you."
"We can put it right here," Updraft chimed in. "So you guys can hold hands while you recharge."
Skywarp laughed, voice still so hoarse, and Thundercracker stiffened. Updraft wondered why he was so shy—he'd told her himself how much they loved each other. She could see it right here.
"That's my girl," Skywarp said. He shifted, just enough to take her hand. "Don't feel too bad, okay? TC's doing enough worrying for everyone."
Updraft nodded, and the rest of the visit was nice. When Skywarp started to wince partway through it, he let her press the button that flowed painkillers into his system. It didn't make her feel great too to do it—he needed it because of her—but it seemed to help. She told them about Starscream's gift of a hospital bill, and Thundercracker rolled his optics at the same time Skywarp laughed.
Too soon, Skywarp was dozing, too tired to keep up their conversation. Thundercracker made sure his thermoblanket was tucked close enough, and his readings were good, before walking Updraft back upstairs. It was a treat, to go hand-in-hand with him and not have to wait for Skyquake or Dreadwing.
"I owe you an apology," Thundercracker said in the elevator. Updraft looked up in surprise, and he looked away. "Skywarp wouldn't have left you alone all the time, ig it was me down there."
Updraft squeezed his hand. She was so tired of resenting everyone, and of her loneliness. She had them all back, and it hurt to think of otherwise. "I'm excited for lessons again," she said.
Thundercracker's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "I'll bet."
With Skywarp recovering, Starscream demanded they all go home. Of course Skywarp had weeks left to go, and despite Starscream's whining for the contrary, Thundercracker would stay with him. Updraft dreaded leaving them behind. Bad things had happened when she stayed away from them.
"I have work for you two," Starscream told Dreadwing their last night. "So you'll be another few weeks as well."
Updraft's tanks turned over in dread. Maybe they would let her stay with Thundercracker, then. She could sleep on the fold-out berth with him, even on the floor. Anything but alone with Starscream, trapped in their Vos apartment. The little place in Iacon had survived the explosion, with all windows blown out. Starscream was already groaning about the cost of repairs.
Dreadwing jerked his thumb in Updraft's direction. "One of us is supposed to be with her."
"I'll be with her," Starscream said, tone clipped. "I have nowhere to be. She'll manage."
Dreadwing looked at Updraft, optics soft, and Updraft scowled at his pity. She shouldn't have expected things to start going better.
As Updraft got ready to go, her feet dragging against the floor, Dreadwing stopped her. Updraft ignored the comforting weight of his hand on her arm.
"Now will be a good time to try Skyquake's surprise," he murmured. "I'm sorry, little one. We are connected, and we'll return to you."
Updraft didn't answer him. She was quiet through Starscream's packing up, and settled into her seat on the shuttle. She acknowledged Thundercracker and Skywarp's goodbye comms, apologies that they couldn't see her in person. Skywarp was hurting that day, and Thundercracker couldn't leave him. Updraft understood. Of course she did.
Updraft hated Iacon.
The one surprise was a goodbye she didn't expect. Ratchet was waiting near the hospital's shuttle bay, scanner in hand and scowl clear. He caught Dreadwing with a diagnostic, apparently ensuring his prescription had worked, before he even noticed Updraft.
"Pharma will be back in Vos soon," he said to her. He had a datapad out already, intent on something in it. "You might just see him again."
"Do you think I'll get hurt?" Updraft asked. Ratchet finally looked down at her.
"Trouble does follow you," he said. Behind them, Dreadwing waved at her as he left. She only felt sorry for ignoring him when he had given up and left, turning the corner.
Updraft frowned. "I thought you had lots to do," she said. "You sure do a lot of standing around."
Ratchet huffed. "I'm returning to my clinic in Rodion soon," he said. "And I needed to check on your friend. Since you haven't seen me at work, yes. I suppose I look lazy."
Updraft remembered something, only as Starscream was calling her name. "Your friend," she said quickly. "From the first big party. Is he okay?"
Ratchet's optics brightened. "Orion? Oh, yes. He was at home on the city's other side." The corner of his mouth twitched. "He'll be pleased to here from you, though he's been very busy."
"Updraft!"
Starscream's voice was a warning. With a last look at Ratchet, Updraft turned and followed her carrier. What an odd old doctor.
As the shuttle took off, Updraft pulled up that comm frequency. She had nearly forgotten about it, distracted as she was by Skywarp and everything going on. She sent it a ping, and waited.
Who is this? was what she got back.
Updraft of the Vosian Heights. I was given your frequency to contact.
A beat of silence, long enough that Updraft wondered if she'd blocked out. And then:
Send long messages, like datalogs! My parents never check mine, but they monitor the comm. And—oh, this is Smokescreen! I missed you, Updraft! I was worried!
Updraft grinned so wide that her faceplate hurt. She acknowledged him, and reached into her bag. They'd brought her back an undamaged datapad from the Iacon apartment—one with datanet connections. Starscream wouldn't miss it.
Smokescreen: Vos is hours and hours away, and I have nothing else to do but this. I have a lot to tell, if you promise to tell me everything too...