Chapter 10: Like Money in the Desert

"Primus, you look pathetic," said Barricade as he watched Bluestreak sit in the sun, wings dipped and his head pointed up at the golden orb, his optics offline. Feeding Scorponok had really taken a lot out of the younger mech. Not that Barricade was surprised. Nearly starving a drone has its punishments.

Slowly titling his head to the older bot, the youngling grumbled, "Well, if you hadn't taken all of my energon and drank it … I might have other ways of collecting energy. Not all of that energon was yours to take."

Barricade chuckled at the bitterness in the gunner's voice. So, the kid might have been an Autobot but he was like any other youngling: take his energon away and he gets cranky.

Leaning against the abandon gas station wall that he was kind of calling home, enjoying the warm sun on his black form, Barricade chuckled, "Well, I can call the Autobots if you don't think you can make it home … though I don't know how you would explain my presence to them? Or your newest tagalong."

Bluestreak frowned for a moment, saying nothing though a part of him instinctively wanted to protect his drone's honor.

Barricade, still sitting there in a relaxed position, pretended to look at his claws before he murmured, "So, I gotta know… why did you come to me? I'm a Con. Why didn't you just tell your medic? I'm sure he would have been able to figure it out and plugged the little slagger in."

Bluestreak, too tired to even be upset, allowed a chirping and happy Scorponok to rub against his leg. The drone was once again leaving another treasure he had found out in the barren landscape. He accepted the rusted shovel and placed it to the side with his pile of growing stuff. He couldn't help but grumble, "I think we both know why I did it, Barricade … only Cons have drones… only Cons enslave sentient beings."

The youngling then wilted as he watched Scorponok wander off, looking guilty and completely pathetic and far too tired to even cry about it. Barricade merely stared for a moment, the gears ticking as it took all his restraint not to smile, his fingers twitching at the possibilities.

Oh… oh… this was too good.

He really had the youngling in the palm of his hand, for his silence… for his services. Oh, this was going to be wonderful. He might even be able to find a way off of this hell-rock as well.

"Well, its only enslavement if you choose to look at it that way," finally replied Barricade. "Yes, they may have a spark, but they were not built like you and I. Autobots might think of it as enslavement, but we consider it a partnership."

"And partners attack you and drill holes in your back?" said Bluestreak bitterly, his lack of energy and the fact that Barricade had somehow consumed all of the energon already (which he rather doubted) swaying his attitude and making him far blunter.

Barricade merely grinned toothily, shrugging, "So it was a rocky introduction. Could have been worse … he could have killed you. Youngling's spark sometimes can't handle it."

Bluestreak bared his denta slightly as a hand came up to his chest. He was painfully reminded of something very unpleasant before he ran off to save his drone: Ratchet wanted to do an examination and upgrade. Frag, frag. Ugh, could the day get any worse? Moaning, placing his face in his hands, Bluestreak vaguely wished he had a self-destruction button located somewhere so he could just end it.

"Ugh, I just remembered. I am in so much trouble."

Looking at the other, wondering if he should care or not, Barricade joked, "How could you possibly get into more trouble? You are half Con and I'm pretty sure Scorpy isn't potty trained … Frenzy sure isn't."

Barricade then tilted his head just in time to ignore a can of bolts being thrown at his head, Frenzy throwing a number of insults his way which Barricade merely chuckled about.

"I ignored Ratchet … who wants to give me an examination for an upgrade," said Bluestreak, a part of him not even knowing why he was telling his enemy these things. Perhaps it was the exhaustion … or maybe it was because now he had someone to share one of his biggest secrets with. He had never been very good about keeping his mouth shut and hiding things really bothered him internally.

Rolling his optics, the Con grumbled, "Oh, repairs from a real medic. Dreadful, I'm sure. Try putting your partner together without even proper parts. You have no idea how many shops I raided to fix Frenzy."

Door wings drooping, the youth accepting another random item from his drone which appeared to be a cow bone or some other large animal bone. Briefly, the youth wondered if he should tell the other about his fear of medical surgeries. True, Barricade had done nothing but help him even if it was belligerently, but then again he was basically Barricade's meal ticket and they both knew it. He was getting entirely too friendly though. Barricade was his enemy and yet, for some reason, he really reminded him of Prowl. Too bad Prowl wasn't this easy to talk to. He was just so worried about disappointing Prowl, but as for Barricade … part of him didn't care what the Con thought. He didn't know if it was because the other was a Con or because, strangely, the black mech was pretty laid back when not maiming people.

"You don't understand. They might notice that I now have programs for Scorponok … and what of my form? I can now carry him. What else has changed that I haven't noticed," said Bluestreak, realizing that was only a half truth. Yes, it was a valid fear, but he was far more afraid of being cut up ...for spare parts. The scorpion-bot merely churred feeling his discomfort before dropping what looked like a bag full of money before he wandered back off into the desert again.

Barricade, eyeing the pile of junk with a little more curiosity, thought of the youngling's comment. An upgrade could seriously hinder his plans. There had to be a way to keep the kid under wraps until he got off of the hell rock. The youngling was kind of growing on him and, even though he was a bit of a pushover, Barricade could just see the little gunner as a partner in crime. He might even make a fair Decepticon. It wouldn't have been the first Autobot to turn. Knockout's partner, Breakdown, had been an Auto-slagger once. Why couldn't the kid trade sides? The death of Megatron had hardly ended the war.

His spark warming to the idea of not traveling through space alone, the mech wondered how to go about convincing the Autobot to leave his brothers in arms. He had never been one much for recruitment. He was more a kill-and-ask-questions-later kind of mech, but he already had the youth in the palm of his hands. Fear was always a good motivator for change.

Smiling, liking the idea the more he dwelt on it, the black mech mumbled, "It takes time for any huge changes to occur, but if you really want to keep your aft safe, I do have one idea for you."

Bluestreak, with those optics that so much reminded Barricade of a long lost bond he had all but tried to extinguish, gave his elder a hungry look. The Con was about to make his first offer when the two mechs and two droids jumped, a sudden transmission floating over Bluestreak's speakers.

"Autobot Bluestreak: please respond, kid. It's your caretaker, kid. I'm back and I need you back at base. Please respond."

Bluestreak, wings dipping, cringed at the thought of Kup being back already from whatever mission he had gone on with Prowl. He doubted the older mech would let him just run away from an examination. Should he stay hidden then? He didn't want to be ripped up again and left to bleed out. Should he run away? But he had so much now at the base. He had Kup, and Prowl always took care of him, but now with Scorponok.

... Maybe he could stay with Barricade? But did he really want that? He didn't completely hate Cade so far, but what about Prowl or the others?

"Hey, kid?" Bluestreak nearly jumped out of his armor, Barricade's form now in front of him and glaring down at him. "If you don't answer they are bound to come looking for you and I don't know about you … but I like this place. I don't want to have to find a new base."

"But what about the upgrades Ratchet wants?" said Bluestreak, fear in his voice. He knew there would be nightmares tonight even if he did manage to convince Ratchet to put off an examination.

"You're a smooth talker," said Barricade as Scorponok dropped off what looked like a stained machete, the two mechs looking at the collection of loot in a combination of realization, horror, and humor. Well, humor and Barricade's part, especially when Frenzy started digging through the pile cackling madly. "Besides, last time I checked you guys landed here without a ship so I doubt the medic has everything he needs for an upgrade. He probably just wants to examine you for wear or to see if you spark is being affected by the strain of an outdated system. Just keep him from the systems on your back and you should be fine, especially if the drone coding has integrated correctly."

Bluestreak, suddenly feeling a little calmer, slowly got to his feet. Barricade surprisingly grabbing one of his arms to keep him standing.

"Yeah, you are right. Ratchet is always grumbling about not having one thing or the other," said the youngling. "Thank you, Barricade."

Barricade, a bit surprised by the sincerity in the youth's voice, merely nodded, "Yeah, you are welcome. Runt. Now, I really like this joint so I might stick around for a while, pull some fleshies over on the interstate. Come to me if you can remain hidden … Otherwise, forget my name."

Bluestreak, noting that the mech's tone didn't match his words in harshness, merely nodded as he nearly stumbled over the treasures the scorpion-bot had dug up for him, a thought creeping up from the darkest parts of him. If worst came to worst he could leave with Cade. At least he wouldn't be wandering in the darkness of space alone. It was a terrible fate to be alone. And, while transforming, Bluestreak found himself pitying the other mech. Barricade was alone. All alone. His comrades dead.

Then and there, a new thought struck him. Perhaps if he could convince Barricade to change sides, the Autobots would see that drones weren't so bad. Then, in time, perhaps he could reveal his own. Though, watching Frenzy throw money around from some bags in the pile, that wasn't going to be easy.

Liking the idea a lot more than some of the other ones he had had, Bluestreak dwelt on the black mech, wondering what route would be best. Then, nodding goodbye, he transformed and drove off, Scorponok diving below the surface and following after. Then, turning on his comm., deciding to deal with one problem at a time, the youth replied, "This is Bluestreak. Just out for a drive. I'm coming back to base now."

Static playing for a moment, Bluestreak nearly cringed when his caretaker joked, "A joy ride, huh? Now, kid, it sounds more like you are hiding from the Hatchet. Ironhide has tried that too. It doesn't work. He'll hunt you down like the dog you are. Now, get your aft back to base. It's time for a talk."

Bluestreak, his pace slow, didn't know if it was because of his energon levels or because he really, really, wasn't looking forward to going home.

Barricade, meanwhile, stood there watching the cloud of dust follow after the youngling before he got back onto the highway.

Never one for sentiments, but unable to shake the feeling, he grumbled to Frenzy, "Despite being an idiot and an Auto-brat, I like him … he reminds me of brother."

"Y-your tt-tratior brother," cackled Frenzy, knowing the tale of woe all too well. "D-ddont get to c-close Cade. E-eeveryone you g-get close to a-abandons and betrays y-you in the eee-end."

Looking down at the drone, recalling his brother who had left him to fend for himself and the caretaker who would later do the same, he nodded. He liked the kid, but perhaps it was best not to get too attached.

"He might make a good Decepticon though. Sniping is what some would consider a cheaters weapon after all," said Barricade, still not dismissing the youngling entirely.

Frenzy cocked his head as he stopped counting the money in the bags, tapping a human femur to his chin as he thought about it. The drone grumbled back, "H-he might just be a coward t-though, b-but I-I see your p-ppppoint."

Then, suddenly giggling madly, tossing a shovel to the side, the drone pulled some slightly bloodied money out of one of the dug up bags and turned to his partner, the bond rippling with a breed of smugness. "So, wanna go cause some hell?"

Barricade, smiling only for a moment before he transformed in a rush of parts, threw his door open and chuckled, "Sounds like a good time to me."

He might have started to develop a soft spot for the kid, but he was still a Decepticon after all.

…

Meanwhile, back at the Autobot base, Prowl watched as Ratchet wandered over the ocean stained corpses that had just been dragged inside from the cargo jets, mumbling to himself from time to time. Prowl, despite himself, could not keep his wings from twitching at the thought that Bluestreak had just run off like that. Ratchet had really wanted to do an examination before he got the bodies so he could have an idea of what he needed. Unfortunately, it seemed that Ironhide had unknowingly gained a competitor when it came to pissing off the Hatchet. Running away only made it worse.

Prowl sighed through his vents at the thought that it was going to take even longer to start the upgrades for the much-needing youngling. Why didn't he understand that Ratchet wasn't trying to hurt him?

Offlining his optics, Prowl tried to comfort himself with the thought that Kup said he would be dealing with the issue. He had no doubt that Kup would get the youth to sit still for an examination, the sooner the better. Prowl just knew something was wrong with Bluestreak. When he had come back from the desert he had been acting odd and pained. Now he was consuming twice as much energon and he seemed twitchy despite now having a caretaker. Something was wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

Sighing, wondering if he could ask Kup to pry now that the two of them had a better understanding, Prowl was about to go over and help the medic with a rough inventory, when suddenly his communication systems popped up. It was requesting clearance from a superior … and it was a deep space transmission.

Was it the coming ship? No, the ship was too small and whose ID was … Ugh, frag, not him.

Answering the transmission, knowing that Optimus was busy meeting one human delegate or the other right now, he opened his communication line. It was obviously strained from the distance, but still working. They must have been out there, though still closer than the other arriving ship since it was a live feed.

"This is Second in Command, Autobot Prowl. Report."

There was a moment of static and then a cocky tone replied, "Ah Prowl, almost as much fun as Ultra Magnus."

Nodding, noting vaguely that Ratchet had stopped his inventory and was listening carefully, Prowl replied, "Please reply with your designation and, if not high security, your mission."

A sigh escaped the mech and then bitterly, no fan of taking orders, the mech replied blandly, "Autobot Crosshairs and Autobot Blades reporting. We were sent out to pick up a straggler."

"A straggler," said Prowl, noting that Ratchet was now standing next to him, listening to the feed. "What do you mean?"

"I caught me a little run away delinquent. Delinquents if you count his sidekick," grumbled Crosshairs, obviously hating the mission from the start.

"Who?" said Prowl curiously. If it was an Autobot traitor, they didn't exactly have a brig yet to deal with the extra bodies.

"Oh, just a little smart mouth called Hot Rod and his tag-along, Springer. Springer didn't put up a fight, but the kid acted like I was taking him to an executioner," said Crosshairs, chuckling at the thought.

Prowl ignored the others lack of sensitivity when it came to what was obviously just a scared youngling, but then again a deserter wasn't about to get away Scott-free either. Even if he was young, Hot Rod still deserved an ample punishment. A punishment Prowl would probably have to decide because Optimus likely would try to be too lenient. The commander always was too lenient when it came to younglings.

"When can we expect you and the deserters?" said Prowl, already trying to think where they could set up a quick brig and what parts Ratchet could get from dismantling two sets of military weapons.

"Give us two weeks … unless the kid escapes again," said Blades, finally piping up in the ship's communication.

"Good, alert me when you are closer to Earth, the third planet from the star, and I will give you a nearby landing point. Prowl out," finished the Second, his mind now trying to recall what would be ample punishment for desertion and yet fairly lenient for two younglings.

Ratchet though was thinking something entirely different, his vents huffing, "Frag, do you think Kup can handle two younglings? Most caretakers can only deal with one at a time."

Prowl, thoughts freezing, couldn't keep his face from taking on a downtrodden expression, his voice almost accepting that it would be Bluestreak that would be placed back on the way side. "No. No ... I doubt he can."

XXX

Paw07: See, I told you we would come back around to Hot Rod and why he deserted Kup. Anyway, I obviously went to see the movie, twice, and I loved Crosshairs, so he got thrown in here. Next chapter's about Hot Rot for the most part. Later.

(Revisions October 2017)