Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing
Chapter 3
Friday
With the exception of the two guests, the med bay was surprisingly quiet. Usually at least Huffer was there complaining about some imagined ailment. Or either Sunstreaker or Tracks for a small scratch. Although it might have something to do with the edict that no one was to come into the med bay short of being ready to keel over while the femmes woke.
Ratchet closed Hues' chest plate as Wheeljack latched Rhythm's. He checked them over one last time, before he removed the breakers that kept them offline. Purple optics winked on and took in their surroundings, including the two mechs standing over them. Panic briefly lit their optics, until they turned their heads and saw one another. Like an echo of the Lamborghinis from yesterday, the sight of their twin calmed them.
"How are you both feeling?" Wheeljack gently asked. His vocal indicators flashed merrily.
"Confused." Rhythm systematically moved her joints, as though expecting to find them fastened down.
"Same here. Weren't we behind bars?" Hues took in Ironhide's quiet presence. "I see, but we're still under guard?"
Prime's voice rumbled through the med bay. "An unfortunate, but necessary, precaution."
Ratchet and Wheeljack helped the femmes to sit up. Optimus Prime came forward and asked for their names, clasping hands briefly as they answered. Then he introduced himself. "I am Optimus Prime, and I am the leader of the Autobots."
Twin pairs of optics widened as jaws went slack in shock. They belatedly caught and composed themselves. "It's an honor to meet you, sir," they said in hollow voices.
"Please forgive us, it's just that last we knew Sentinel was Prime."
Rhythm's face wore a sheepish expression. "And we never expected any Prime to be on this backwater planet."
Prime gestured widely. "And yet here we are, though not entirely by choice. As for Sentinel Prime, I'm afraid he fell during the Decepticon's first attack. Now I would like to hear your story, in exchange, I'll relate ours." He waited expectantly.
The femmes glanced at each other. Rhythm appealed to Hues, who crossed her arms, her door wings sagging. "There really isn't much. We were sparked twins in the 1000 turn of Damaski. We became autonomous as dancers and spent a few vorns as such, learning our trade. We found work on the long-range transport ship Trithulus and provided entertainment for them for half a vorn. Then something… happened." Hues rubbed at her forehead.
"A wormhole," Prime supplied.
Rhythm nodded her head. "That sounds right. But that ends our story, because the rest of it is static, darkness and then we onlined here."
Prime rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Anything in the static?"
Rhythm put her fingertips to her crown, as if that motion would draw the memory out. "Voices… indistinct… screaming… a roar, and nothing." She shook her head, and then looked up at Prime. "How did you know it was a wormhole?"
"Before I became Prime, I was an Archivist."
Hues' brow ridges lifted a little. "Sounds like you have quite a tale."
"Yes," and he spent the next megacycle on the history of the war. The twins listened in rapt silence as he told of Cybertron's slow-coming death that led them to finishing the Ark and ultimately brought them here. He even dipped into the fate of the dancers.
Ratchet and Wheeljack moved away, as they had been through the fall of the Golden Age, and didn't care to relive it. Wheeljack disappeared for his lab, followed out by a growled admonition from the CMO not to go blowing anything up. Ratchet helped First Aid with inventory, all the while listening for Prime to finish. When he heard Prime wrapping the story up with their onlining, he headed back to his patients.
"Are there no more dancers left?" Hues asked, as Rhythm turned her head away, washer fluid tears welling in her optics.
Optimus lay a heavy hand on each of their shoulders. "Only their sparks in the bodies of Autobots. They remember what they once were, but…"
The twins sagged, most everyone understood the changes reformatting caused in a Cybertronian. "Where does that leave us?"
Prime lowered his hands. "Well, you have a few choices. You are welcome to remain as neutrals. We can provide the bare necessities; energon rations, quarters, basic maintenance. Anything else you will need to provide yourselves. If you choose neutrality, though, we will not be able to come to your aid, should you encounter Decepticons."
Ratchet put his scowl into place in an effort to keep from laughing. How in the Pits did Prime expect to enforce that with the only two femmes on the planet?
"Or you can choose to become Autobots. We'll supply you with a more armored form, and you will be provided for, but in exchange you must swear loyalty to the Autobot cause and to always obey the orders of your superiors. You will become productive members of the team, willing to take up arms when commanded."
Hues clasped her hands in her lap. "There's another option." She looked up and met Prime's optic. "What is it?
"You could also choose to go over to the Decepticons." A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Of course, then we'd throw you back into the brig."
Rhythm laughed with dry humor. "So, in truth we have only two choices, but neither of us are fighters. Which leaves one."
"Weren't ye listenin'? Ye think any of us wanted ta be fightin' in this slag-blasted war?" Ironhide all but snarled in an uncharacteristic show of anger.
Rhythm turned her optics away. "Of course not. I'm sorry."
The Autobot Commander crossed his arms over his chest plate. "It's a difficult decision and while we can't give you forever, we can grant you a short time to choose." Prime hesitated. "It has been a long time since many of these mechs have enjoyed the company of a femme, but, for the sake of the crew's safety, I'm going to ask you to quarantine yourselves for the time being. Am I clear?"
Hues laughed. "Better make sure they know that, then."
Rhythm crossed her arms over her chest plate. "Besides we're not like some, who interface with anything that has ports. We do prefer to get to know the bot. The quarantine will give us that opportunity." A playful smile lit her face. "Though it's going to be hard to resist if we're surrounded by too many handsome mechs."
Prime did not smile. "Believe me; I've made sure they know. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. I'll arrange a tour of the area for tomorrow. Ironhide will show you to your room when Ratchet releases you. You are welcome to enjoy the rec room and the lounge. I will see you later." He turned and left the med bay.
Hues eyed Ratchet. "You must be Ratchet, and Ironhide? Weren't you that nice mech that brought us the energon?" she added with a glance and a smile to the red and grey mech. "It's a little bit fuzzy".
Ratchet and Ironhide nodded. Ratchet expressed his pleasure at meeting the femmes.
"Then we have you to thank for fixing whatever was wrong with us, Ratchet?" Rhythm set her chin on her hand, smiling.
"You want a list?" Ratchet pulled their rings and bells from his subspace pockets. "Here you might want these back. They seem smaller than normal."
The twins took their accoutrements, and cradled them in their hands. Sadness blanketed their faces. "The computer had to cannibalize the larger ones for parts. These are all we have left." Hues drew the rings and bells against her chest plate.
"But what use are we going to have of them? Who needs dancers in the middle of a war?"
As they weren't addressing him, Ratchet looked them over in silence. Although he wondered how they could even process those thoughts. His brief trip into the lounge had put him on the receiving end of dozens of mechs asking if they would be forbidden from, up to, or even able to give them a show. In answer he scowled that all of that was still being considered.
The Ark was full of lonely mechs, who missed the sight of dancers, especially femmes, floating across the stage.
"Here." Hues suddenly shoved her rings and bells into his hands. A few clattered to the floor, taken in surprise as he was. He stopped her, before she could hop down and retrieve them.
"What's this for?"
"They're tritanium, I'm sure that's pretty hard to come by on this mudball.
Rhythm held out her handful as well, but Ratchet shook his head. "It isn't necessary."
"You helped us, when you didn't have to. This is just to show our appreciation."
Ironhide scowled at Hues. "It's what Autobots do. We ain't askin' fer nuthin'."
Hues matched the Security Officer's well-practiced scowl. "You don't have to ask. We're offering. It's all we have to give, take it." The red-orange femme crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head. Ratchet sighed as Rhythm dumped her accessories on top of the pile in his hand and more fell to the floor.
"Fine, we'll take the tritanium, but," he continued in a voice that broached no argument, "we'll replace the bells and rings. "
The twins shrugged.
"You two are used to quarantine protocol?"
Rhythm laughed, but it was Hues who answered. "As if any dancer isn't."
"Then I'll start going through your subroutines first cycle after sunrise. You may leave."
Ironhide stepped forward. "Are y'ready ter be shown your rooms."
The twins nodded and followed the big mech out.
"Here's the lounge, energon dispenser is on the wall on the right. There's a TV in the corner. There's a stack of datapads with, well what's left of some Cybertron literature. Most of it's Earth stuff that we found." Bluestreak gestured them ahead, a big grin fixed on his face. He couldn't wait to see his friend's reactions. Dancers hadn't been seen since the destruction of Spire Falls, his home city. Many of the younger mechs, like the lambo twins, had never even seen one. The femmes grumbled for a brief klick about their still chipped and scratched appearance. They had an appointment with Hoist later that day for a new paint job. The twin Esprit squared their door wings and stepped into the lounge.
Conversation lulled to a murmur and even that died down as heads turned. The femmes shifted uncomfortably for a moment until Hues put her fists on her curved hips.
"All right now, y'all can put yer optics back in your craniums," she drawled, affecting an accent, "yer makin' my sister nervous"
Rhythm huffed and turned her back on Hues, her door wings tilted back in mock indignation.
It broke the silent spell that held the Autobotsl. Chatter filled the lounge again. Some of the Autobots rose, eager to greet the newest arrivals, and hear their tale. After all, these femmes had managed to avoid detection from their experienced trackers.
Hues pulled Bluestreak forward. "Is this all of the crew?"
"No, maybe half. Then you have the Dinobots, but you rarely find any of them in here. Of course Omega Supreme wouldn't even fit in the entrance, much less here. Some of them are out on missions-oh, but those are classified and I'm not supposed to tell you about them." Bluestreak stopped his rambling when Rhythm nudged him.
"Any of the missing mechs happen to belong to a band called Rhythmic Feat?"
"Ah." He shrugged. "Don't really know. Some mechs don't like to talk about their past at all. What were their names?"
Hues stepped closer, hope gleaming in her optics. "Smoothbeat, Deadbeat, Fastturn, Timbre?" Her voice faded as he shook his head negatively at each name. She bobbed her head and released him. "Would you mind grabbing both of us a cup of energon?" She smiled past the sadness in her optics. "I have a feeling that we won't be let go any time soon." She glanced pointedly at the expectant crowd.
Bluestreak nodded and dashed away, grabbing two cups and filling them both.
"How are they?"
"Waugh!"
Elegant hands caught one of the cups when Bluestreak dropped it. Liquid sloshed over the rim and a rag appeared in Mirage's other hand to wipe up the small mess.
"Would you stop doing that! Augh!" Bluestreak composed himself. "They seem fine." The gunner's bright blue optics shifted to the femmes. "They seem to just fit right in, I'd say."
"I wanted to make sure they were settled. I need to go on patrol.." Mirage handed the cup back to Bluestreak and disappeared from sight. "I'll talk to them later."
"I hate it when he does that," Blue said to no one in particular. He shouldered his way into the crowd long enough to hand the femmes their energon. He backed off at the threatening glares form the lambo twins. So he hung at the back of the crowd and listened as they told of how they first came to be on Earth.
"Where have you been the last five stellar cycles?" Hound piped up.
Rhythm took a sip from her cup, forcing Hues to answer. "Trying to survive. " The red-orange femme lifted her cup, ventilating deeply. "I never thought I'd savor low-grade this much. I might even compose an ode to energon. Oh, sweet, sweet fuel/What a liquid tool."
"Oh, please, Hues, not more Primus-awful poetry." Rhythm sighed dramatically.
Bluestreak piped up with a question that had been nibbling at his circuits. "Why didn't you seek any of us out? I mean our battles are all over the human news. You had to know there were Cybertronians around."
Rhythm shook her head. "No, we kept hearing about Autobots and Decepticons who just so happen to transform. We never made the connection between Optimus and Prime." She shrugged her door wings.
Hues giggled. "Musta been faulty wiring left over from the crash and repair."
A smattering of chuckles met the joke.
Rhythm looked mildly offended, her door wings drawn back. "Tough crowd tonight, sis." She took a sip. "Might need to start opening our ports and making lewd comments."
That earned laughter.
Smokescreen crossed his arms over his colorful hood. "So, is there a chance we can see you perform anytime soon?"
The twin femmes looked at all the eager expressions. "Well," Hues began, "there are a few issues with that. First of all is music. All of our music tracks were aboard Trithulus."
Blaster bounced onto his heels and transformed into his boom box form. "You want tunes, Blaster can do. Just tell me what you want and I'll play them for you." He played a variety of music in example.
Hues nodded. "We'd still need time to choreograph."
A bunch of disappointed 'aws' met that statement.
Rhythm tapped her lips. "And we can't dance without the proper attire."
Smokescreen lifted a hand, yellow chevron raised. "Just tell us what you need."
The twin femmes exchanged a smile.
Author's Note: A very chatty chapter. More action next one, promise. Also, I went back and corrected Ironhide and Red Alert's titles, which will be reflected properly from here on out.
Note of interest: The Cybertronian words that translate as Rhythm and Rhythmic have different connotations. Rhythmic Feat was not named after Rhythm, nor vice versa.
