Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing
Chapter 2
Thursday
It had just turned midnight and Ratchet rubbed at his optics, unconsciously miming a human custom. The Lamborghinis would be in a deep recharge until tomorrow morning, at least. He was heading for recharge himself. He staggered to the med bay entrance and noticed lights flashing off the burnt orange frame. He always left the siren on silent, so that it wouldn't needlessly startle him during a delicate operation. He quickly identified the source of the alarm. The brig.
He activated his com. "This had better be good," he snarled.
"We have a situation down here," Mirage's cultured voice replied. Then the spy cut his side of the transmission.
Ratchet growled, but grabbed his tool bag and dashed out the double doors. At the same time, he raised Ironhide on the comm. "What the slag is going on, Ironhide?"
Ironhide's confused voice came over the channel. "I just took over. I was hopin' you'd be able ter tell me. I'm on my way."
Ratchet met up with Ironhide at an intersection. The Security Officer shoved a cup of warm energon into Ratchet's grateful hand. The CMO stopped just in front of the brig doors and gulped down the energon. He tossed the cup into a disposal unit. "Wait an astrosecond. If the twins are in my med bay, who's in here."
Ironhide opened the door with a humorless laugh, where Bluestreak danced just beyond. He saw Ratchet and seized the medic's hand, dragging him toward a cell.
"What the slag's going on Bluestreak? This had better not be a practical joke or you'll see just where my- Oh, Primus!" Ratchet homed in on the two femmes immediately. "Where the slag did they come from and why in the Inferno aren't they in my med bay. Open this fragging cell, Ironhide."
"Well you see, Ratchet, it was Red Alert-" Bluestreak began.
"Red Alert? Red Alert stuck them in here? I'm going to slagging kill that little glitch. And you!" Ratchet whirled towards Ironhide "What's your slagging excuse?"
Ironhide punched in the release code, unperturbed by Ratchet's glower. "I was gonna send them down, Ratch, but they went into recharge. I did leave instructions for them to be moved when they woke."
Ratchet moved into the open cell and knelt down next to his new patients. He nodded at Ironhide's explanation, focused on the task at hand, suddenly alert. "Now, tell me everything you recall. What is this stuff?" The last he murmured to himself. He touched the fluid on Hues, sniffing and eyeing it critically. He listened to their tale, motioning for them to speed it up
His fingers pressed at their shoddy welds and he rubbed his fingers together at the feeling of moisture seeping from Hues. He opened the flame-colored chest plate and immediately jerked his hands back when pink and brown fluids gushed out. "Slag." He closed her chest plate. Then he repeated the process on Rhythm, glad he wouldn't have to clean this mess up. Clearing their chassis didn't seem to improve their condition, as Rhythm continued to shake and Hues ventilator didn't start.
Ratchet stood and gestured Bluestreak and Mirage over. "Get them to the med bay." He wiped his hands clean on a cloth. The spy and the gunner hastily gathered the femmes up and headed out. "Let me see Perceptor's results." Ratchet hurriedly scanned the datapad Ironhide handed him and the CMO began cursing Red Alert again.. He immediately set after Bluestreak and Mirage with Ironhide on his heels.
"What is it?"
"That slagging, aft-headed fool! Their fuel lines are clogged and that energon you gave them flooded their systems. I need Perceptor and he's not answering his comm.."
Ironhide smartly turned and rushed off to locate the scientist.
Ratchet strode into the med bay, immediately going to the red-orange femme, and popped her chest plate back open. "What were you two planning?"
"I was scheduled to guard these two," Bluestreak offered.
Mirage edged toward the door. "I was planning on recharging."
Ratchet nodded once. "Nothing. Good. You've just been volunteered to be nurse bots. Mirage, open her up and start cleaning out the fuel. Bluestreak grab a rag and take over."
Bluestreak eagerly jumped in, but Mirage scowled as he fumbled with the latches.
It was a long morning for them all.
Ratchet gently set the chest plate down, over the tubes running from inside the Hues' torso. Perceptor did the same on Rhythm. Mirage had left a ten breems ago to catch what little recharge he could before his patrol.
Bluestreak stood to one side, ready to hold one more piece of tubing or stick a cup of energon into weary hands. Ratchet couldn't have done it without them. "What now?" Bluestreak finally asked.
"We wait," Ratchet replied.
"There is nothing we can do while the primitive fuel is purged from their systems."
The CMO slid a half-amused smirk toward Perceptor. "Well, you and Wheeljack did always wonder what would happen if we took unrefined earth fuels for an extended period of time."
Perceptor headed for the med bay doors. "Yes, but I did not quite expect to find out in this manner. I would have much preferred to contain the experiment, and monitor it a great deal closer. I will be back after I have had a sufficient recharge." The door opened, and then shut behind him. Ratchet tweaked the life support hooked up to the femmes. He could ask Bluestreak more about them, but the young mech knew how to ramble on. And on. Ratchet's impatience overrode his curiousity, right then.
The door hissed open, and Ratchet spoke without turning around. "Did you forget something, Perce, or-" Then he saw who it was. "You!"
The red and white mech's sensors flashed in alarm at the angry CMO storming toward him. Red Alert took a step back, but Ratchet wrenched him forward, so that the door could close behind him.
"W-What are they doing here? I ordered-"
"You slagging near killed them!" Ratchet shouted, dropping the mech to his feet none too gently.
"Protocol clearly states-"
"Don't give me that slag. Protocol makes allowances for injuries."
Red Alert frowned and attempted to move past the CMO. "Perceptor didn't mention that they were that badly damaged."
Ratchet threw his hands in the air. "Don't give me that either! He did try to tell you, but you," and he jabbed Red's chest, "wouldn't listen."
"According to Mirage and Bluestreak, they lasted quite a while without professional medical attention."
Ratchet's gripped Red Alert's shoulder and shook the Security Director. "That wasn't your call to make. You're not a medic!"
The doors unexpectedly whooshed open, revealing Optimus Prime's bulky form. The Autobot Commander looked at his CMO and Security Director. "Is there a problem?"
Ratchet turned to Optimus, releasing Red. "Yes, there's a problem! This aft-head nearly killed-"
Prime put his hands on Ratchet's shoulder, patting the angry mech. "I know, Ironhide told me." His blue optics slid to the Security Director. "If I could have a word with you, Red Alert."
Ratchet took the hint and headed over to where the twins lay, both strapped down in case they onlined mentally still in the fight. Sideswipe blinked up at him, devilish grin on his face. "That was worth every blast from Starscream, to see you chew Red out."
Ratchet put on his perpetual scowl and turned it on the red Lamborghini. "If you're well enough to crack jokes, then get out of my med bay."
Sideswipe paused to look at the unconscious Sunstreaker, then he shuttered his optics.
"That's what I thought." Ratchet turned to the yellow twin and checked him over, his movements full of contained anger. Even half the bay away, over Sideswipe's voice, audio's sensitive enough to listen for the slightest crackle of shorting wires could hear Prime's soft reprimand.
"Red Alert, I know you're concerned for the security of the Ark, but we have no proof that they have anything to do with the Decepticons. From all appearances, they have been away from Cybertron for a very long time. Yes, they will need to understand the necessity of having a guard for the time being." Prime patted Red Alert's back. "But let's make them feel welcome. Return to your duties, Red Alert."
The red and white Lamborghini stormed out of the med bay, clearly not satisfied with Prime's decision.
Prime glanced at the femmes, but approached Ratchet first. He put one hand on Sideswipe's shoulder. "Sideswipe, how are you feeling, there?"
Sideswipe's optics winked on and slid to Ratchet. "Um, ow."
The Commander laughed. "I was worried about you last night, both of you…" his voice trailed off expectantly as he glanced at Sunstreaker.
Ratchet checked the monitors, making sure the more volatile twin remained out until the CMO was good and ready. "Sunstreaker will be fine, for all that Starscream nearly blew him in half," he filled in obligingly.
Sideswipe winced at the memory. "How were we supposed to know the Screamer would pop in like that? Hey, could you unstrap me? I'm feeling a little constrained here."
With a long-suffering sigh, Ratchet reached over and released the red mech.
Optimus patiently waited until the CMO gave Sideswipe a once over, all the while growling threats of dire consequences should the twin reinjure himself anytime soon. When Ratchet finally turned to Prime, the commander nodded toward the other two occupants of the med bay.
"And them?"
Sideswipe looked over in curiosity. "Whoa! Femmes! Where'd they come from?"
The two officers glared at the Lamborghini, then ignored him.
Ratchet walked over to the femmes and checked the tubing attached to their fuel pumps. "They were really clogged up when I finally," and Ratchet spat that word out, "got to them. The energon Ironhide gave them was too thick for them to handle, it backed up and flooded their systems." Ratchet clenched a fist, still furious at Red Alert.
"Easy Ratchet. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker needed your help, too. You only have one pair of hands and you can't be everywhere at once."
Ratchet shook his head, refusing to face Prime. "That's exactly what boils my lines, Prime. Perceptor was helping me, but he could have stabilized Sideswipe and then started a system flush on them. If. They. Had. Been. Here."
Prime sighed, shaking his head. "What else do they need? Our resources are limited, much as we like to help civilians."
Ratchet pulled out a datapad and looked it over. "A lot. The blue one, Rhythm, has a short I'm going to have to find. I'm going to have to look at their joints, some of them are sticking . There's more, but I'm just too tired to comprehend it right now. And that's not counting the rewelding and more cosmetic damage."
Prime nodded. "I trust you to make the right choices on what's essential and what's not. Are they a danger? Any weapons as Red Alert suspects?"
Ratchet scanned the data pad. "The worst slagging thing I can find is a low-powered holo emitter. Nowhere near as advanced as Hounds."
"Then why don't you recharge. First Aid is doing just that. Then you two can finish the job. Think you'll finish today?"
Ratchet scowled down at the datapad. "If you're wondering if I can bring them online today, that will depend on how extensive the damage is. I'm just too tired to see it straight right now.
"Very well then." Optimus turned his optics to the unusually silent gunner "Bluestreak, I'll send someone to relieve you in a megacycle."
The gunner nodded. "Oh, I really don't mind watching them. I'm glad they'll be okay and everything. It's better than guarding the twins… I mean, understood, Prime."
Prime's mask lifted in a hidden smile and he turned and left the med bay.
Sideswipe appeared next to Ratchet. "Soo… where'd they come from?
"Bluestreak found them, ask him." The CMO turned to leave. "I'm going to recharge." The doors opened, but Ratchet turned to wag a finger at the red twin. "And don't touch a slagging thing.
Sideswipe pulled his most innocent face. When the door closed behind him, Ratchet clearly heard the cheeky devil's voice.
"You think we're no fun to guard, Blue?"
A megacycle of recharge was nowhere near what he needed, but he forced himself off his berth and staggered his way to the cleaning racks. Clean and with his third cup of energon in hand he made his way to the med bay.
First Aid greeted him at the door, and they went in together. The medic trainee paused when he saw the femmes lying on the gurneys. He quickly caught up with Ratchet who was heading for Sunstreaker, still offline. When he realized Sideswipe wasn't at his brother's side, the CMO turned to the red twin.
"What are you doing over there?"
Sideswipe shrugged and stepped around the femmes' gurneys. "Ironhide was going to relieve Bluestreak, but since I 'have nothin' better ter do', he left me to guard them."
Ratchet gestured sharply. "Well, come guard them from over here. I'm about to bring Sunstreaker online, and it'd be easier if he saw you here."
Sideswipe's ever-present smile widened and he joined the two medics. Ratchet opened the circuits keeping Sunstreaker offline.
The entire table bounced off the floor when the golden Lamborghini onlined with a shout. Blue optics looked wildly about, until they settled on Sideswipe's grinning face. The golden warrior immediately calmed.
The doors hissed open and permitted the small form of Sparkplug into the med bay. "Looks like Spike and I missed all the fun." Then he noticed the two femmes on the gurneys. "Oh, hello. Ratchet, you don't mind if I…"
Ratchet shook his head and waved Sparkplug on, preoccupied with guiding his trainee in looking over Sunstreaker. When he was confident First Aid could handle the rest, he joined Sparkplug.
"Is something wrong, Sparkplug?" Ratchet asked when he saw the man scratching his head.
"I can't figure this out. What are they?" Then he thought better of his question. "Well, I mean, I know they're robots like you, but they don't look nothing like you."
Ratchet tilted his head. "Well, they have no form of armor on them, if that's what you mean."
Sparkplug pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, I mean that if I didn't know any better, I'd swear they look almost feminine."
Ratchet's chevron lifted in realization. "That's right, you've never seen a female transformer."
Sparkplug's eyebrows lifted into his receding hairline. "I guess I never really thought there was a female Autobot."
The CMO smirked at the half-muttered statement. "Well, they're not exactly Autobots. They're neutrals." Ratchet lifted the red-orange colored chestplate and began extricating the tubes from her fuel system.
Sparkplug stood on Rhythm's gurney, quietly looking her over. He picked at something on the back of her arms. "What are these for? I've never seen them on you."
"What?" Ratchet peered down at Rhythm, wondering if he'd missed another injury. Sparkplug fiddled with a series of small rings attached to the back of her arms. Now that he looked closer, he saw them on her doorwings and her crown. Ratchet stared in open-mouthed wonder. "Well I'll be a retrorat in a den of tubofoxes."
The human frowned in confusion. "So, what are they?"
Ratchet smiled. "Something I haven't seen since nearly the beginning of the war."
"Ah, Ratchet, how are our two guests faring?" Optimus Prime nodded his head at the CMO.
Ratchet took the only empty seat left between Trailbreaker and Skids. Prime had called a meeting of the officers present.
"They're going to be fine, though not exactly pretty." Ratchet leveled his perpetual scowl on Red Alert.
Prime raised a hand to forestall Red Alert. "We'll get to that, Red Alert. I'd like to begin by letting you know that Megatron's attack on the power plant in Nevada was indeed a diversion. It seems Megatron had identified a signal, Cybertronian in origin, but one not from us or them."
At a signal from Prime, Blaster stood. "I've been seeing the same blips for a while, but had trouble tracking it. There's reason to believe the Deceptiocns started blocking the signal in order to pin it down before us."
Trailbreaker spoke up. "Take it the signal was the two femmes down in med bay?"
Prim nodded and then related the entire story. Red Alert found himself on the receiving end of many glares when Prime told his part. "Red Alert has a few security issues he would like to bring up in relation to this."
"I'm sure you're all aware that I think this is a Decepticon trap. With very good reasons, after all-" Red Alert glanced at Ratchet, who glowered back, daring him. "I'll go into detail with any who wish to discuss the matter one on one. Still as these are neutral in their allegiance, we should assume that the Decepticons may try to persuade them to reveal whatever secrets they learn while here. We should act accordingly." Everyone reluctantly muttered agreement. "They could hack into Teletran-1 and gain access to classified information the humans have entrusted us with. We should plan for all such contingencies," Red added when he saw Ratchet shaking his head. Red Alert sat down after he continued along those lines for another ten minutes.
"Ratchet did you find anything that would warrant further cause for concern." All optics turned to the CMO.
Ratchet rose, curling his fingers around a collection of objects in his hand. "They have no weapons attachments. Slag they haven't been upgraded almost as long as Kup! Their sparks pulse at the same frequency-"
"Twins?" Trailbreaker broke in.
"Twins built to look almost exactly alike. Why do that?" Wheeljack added.
"I imagine it has something to do with the fact that they're dancers." He scattered what he held onto the table. Metal jangled as rings clattered and bells rolled. "I highly doubt they'll be much danger."
Blue optics widened around the table. Cybertronian dancers had either been considered useless pieces of scrap by the Decepticons and destroyed, or reformatted into Autobots.
Blaster shifted uncomfortably as everyone's gaze fell on him. "What are you lookin' at me for? You act like I should know of them."
Red Alert scowled. "That actually means that it is extremely dangerous for them to remain here. The Decepticons will surely attempt to destroy them, if for no other reason than to lower morale. Shall I even list the viruses they could spread among the crew?"
The CMO slammed his hand down on the table. "Let me worry about that, Red Alert."
Prime twined his fingers together. A subtle movement, but it drew his officers' attention to him. "Then you have a suggestion, Ratchet?"
"Simple, quarantine. Nobody will argue with it. As for the Decepticons… now that, Red Alert, you are allowed to worry yourself into a short about. So long as I don't have to fix you." Ratchet paused, considering. "Of course, you'd be good practice for Aid…"
Red's sensors flashed in alarm. "N-No that's quite alright. You just keep your trainee away." He muttered something about bad repairs and walking backwards.
Snickers went around the table.
"Very well, Ratchet. Make sure your squads know that Rhythm and Hues are off limits until further notice." Prime nodded at Blaster. "The final report is a brief update on Prowl and Jazz's mission. Blaster, if you would."
Ratchet sat down and the boombox stood up. "Prowl was able to slip a message to me. Jazz has managed to infiltrate the organization, and found the weapons they'd been using. They're Cybertronian in origin. Jazz is tracing their weapons dealer contacts and hopes to finish the mission soon."
"That is all I have. Does anyone wish to report anything else?" Optimus looked around the room.
Hotshot spoke up. "May I suggest that Silverbolt not allow the Aerialbots to get their hands on bungee cords again."
Silverbolt huffed. "As long as Blades stays away from the spray paint."
Affable chuckles went around the table.
Wheeljack rubbed at the bottom of his mask. "Any ideas on what we're going to do with Rhythm and Hues?"
Optimus stood to leave. "That will largely be up to them. Unless anyone has anything else, meeting adjourned."
The small group of officers murmured amongst themselves. Trailbreaker turned to the CMO. "Smokescreen is taking wagers on who the organization is buying from."
Ratchet shook his head. "With Swindle out there, I'm not taking." He stood and headed out the door. "Need to get back to work."
Author's Note: It's pushing it, really pushing it, for Red Alert to be at the meeting (according to his stats). So he's getting a bit of a rank boost for the sake of this fic. I wanted to post this over this past weekend, but I was stuck on revising it.
Edit: Corrected Ironhide's and Red Alert's titles.
