Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Chapter 4

Saturday

Author's note: denotes English amidst Cybertronian, or Cybertronian amidst English
Hues lay on her front, offline in front of Ratchet. He dug through her systems for a specific port, to which he attached the cable he held in his hands. The door to the med bay hissed open and close and his sensors registered the small form of Sparkplug.

"Up early today." His optics never left the monitors.

"Spike's supposed to come here today. Thought I'd beat him to it."

Ratchet's lips turned up. "Miss him?"

Sparkplug wheeled his ladder over and climbed up. "Every parent misses their kid when they go off to college." The human eyed the scrolling glyphs on the monitor. "I thought you finished with her yesterday."

"Routine virus check."

Sparkplug snorted, still staring at, what was to him, indecipherable lines of code. "Never seen you do one before."

"Never had a pair of dancers before, either," Ratchet retorted.

"Oh? Why would they need a virus check?"

"Don't want them spreading anything to the crew."

Sparkplug rubbed at his head, his brows drawn together, puzzled. "I still don't get it."

Ratchet pulled his mouth to one side as he considered how to phrase an answer. "I think you humans have something similar. What do you call them…?" He rubbed at his helm, searching. "Prostitutes?"

The human broke into a surprised coughing fit. Obviously, though it had been over a year since the humans even had an idea that the Autobots had anything comparable to sex; the mention of it still surprised them. It brought to mind the look on Spike's face the first time he'd found Inferno soothing a distraught Red Alert in the lounge.

"Maybe that's not the word. Still, don't they have routine exams to make sure they're not carrying anything contagious?"

"No," Sparkplug drawled. "Usually prostitutes sell themselves because they have no money or something like that. They can't afford a costly medical exam."

The CMO turned a horror-stricken face on Sparkplug.

Sparkplug grinned. "Why do you think it's illegal?" He paused and stared down at the femme, a contemplative expression on his face. "Does that mean they sell their bodies?"

Ratchet scowled at the idea. "No, they only charge for dancing."

The mechanic's ears turned a bright red. "Sounds more like strippers, I guess." Sparkplug stared down at the unconscious femme, rubbing his cheek. "Not that it's much better." He shrugged and hopped down, clearly unable to help Ratchet since he couldn't understand a word of Cybertronian.

Ratchet unplugged the decoder and closed Hues' back cranial plate, as well as her spinal relay access plate. Then he pulled the block that kept her offline.

The red-orange dancer shifted and her purple optics winked on. She rolled over, and sat up. "So far, so good?"

"So far."

Hues' gaze swept the med bay. "Where's Rhythm?"

"Getting ready for the tour with Hound." Ratchet wound the cord up and lifted the decoder. "You might want to do the same." He carried the machine into his office and set it down on one of the shelves.

Hues suddenly started screaming.

Ratchet sprinted out to find her still on the medical berth, her feet off the floor.

She noticed the CMO and jabbed a finger down. "What is that doing here?"

Ratchet smirked. "That is our friend Sparkplug. He's not going to hurt you," he added with a smirk at her reaction.

The med bay door whooshed open and Hound pounded in, gun in hand, optics alert. "Ratchet is everything alright?" He took in Hues' posture, then his gaze dropped to Sparkplug.

The human panted, eyes wide and white. "I think I know how a mouse feels now."

"It's okay, just a misunderstanding."

The older Witwicky took a few calming breaths, hand pressed to his chest. "So, are you done talking about me?"

Ratchet smiled and switched to English. "Sorry, a few more astroseconds." He switched back to Cybertronian. "Do you know any English?" Hues shook her head. "Remind me to install a translation program then. Just shake his hand, gently, and say Hi, Sparkplug. "

The femme stared at the human in trepidation, before she reached a finger down. "Hi, Sparkplug."

Sparkplug chuckled at her accent. "Hi Hues," he returned in Cybertronian, also heavily accented. "And that's all the Cybertronian I know. Spike and Carly managed to pick it up better than I did."

Ratchet quickly translated and Hues smiled down at the chunky mechanic, though her doorwings still twitched nervously.

"Maybe we should introduce Rhythm while we're at it?"

Hues emphatically shook her head. "Oh no! She knows English, and would start asking questions and poking and prodding. We'll never be able to leave and I want to see more of this planet than cities and roads." Though the way she eyed Hound added another dimension to the outing.

'Quarantine, and he's dedicated to someone. ' He shot at her over a tight link, hardening his optics.

She rolled her doors at him. 'Doesn't mean I can't appreciate all the handsome mechs this base has to offer.'

Ratchet snorted his opinion on that.

Hues hopped down, still avoiding the human. "Sparkplug," she said by way of farewell.

"Hues," Sparkplug returned, obviously amused by the way she edged about him. "You know," he said when the tracker led the dancer out. "I don't think I've ever seen a transformer so scared of a little ole human."

Ratchet laughed.


"Ooh, humans make me so nervous." Hues' wings shivered. "They're so squishy."

"You weren't acting either," Hound noted. Dancers had a tendency to exaggerate their emotions.

"I would never act so audio-shattering frightened like that for amusement. They really creep me out."

Hound couldn't help but to chuckle. "You'd almost think you'd squished one." He paused and stared at her, optics wide.

She looked at him from under her crown, lips turned in shame.

"Oh, slag." Suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. "We'll try to keep you away from the humans today."

"That'd be appreciated."

Hound picked up Rhythm from the lounged and gave Hues the opportunity to fill her tanks and then they headed out.

He gave them a tour of the immediate area around the Ark. The recreation field and the training grounds. He added a warning to be wary of the grounds. Sometimes they set it up for a session a day before, and laced it with traps that could batter an armored mech. He'd hate to see what it did to their unprotected forms.

Then they drove out to the forest. He pointed out the well-used paths and what their destinations were. The dancers never saw a trail, unless he pointed it out to them. They squealed in delight over a comm. channel at the sight of the different wildlife. Rhythm tried to get a closer look at some of the animals, while Hues remained at his side, admiring the vegetation.

He took them to his favorite spot, a small waterfall overlooking a valley. He put a genial arm around Rhythm's shoulder and pointed out the various landmarks.

Hues wandered off, looking at the trees, the bushes and flowers. She followed the river upstream, pausing every now and then, as presumably something caught her optics. His sensors could track her for a good mile, therefore he wasn't worried.


Starscream waited just outside of the tracker's sensory range. He'd been keeping a discreet eye on the jeep guiding the femmes about. He recognized this particular place as one of those Hound frequented. Then he saw the red femme wandering away from the Autobot and her 'sister.' This was his chance. Wait till he paraded this one, and, if he was lucky, the other, around the Decepticon base. And they would be his. Not Megatron's.

Staying out of Hound's sensor range. The Air Commander dropped down and transformed, cracking through the branches. He moved quickly through the forest and set up a jamming device that reached into the tracker's sensor range. Couldn't have anyone calling for help, now could he?

He waited, crouched in the shadows, optics dimmed. Uncomfortable from the moisture in the air and the branches that scratched his paint, he ground his dental plates impatiently. Steady, steady. Hear that the tread of metal feet. And the whisper of air through a ventilator.

Red-orange flashed just outside the trees that were his hiding place. He moved. His hand snapped over her mouth, and he wrapped his other arm firmly around her torso, securing her arms to her side. Then he dragged her back under the canopy and activated the array. She would still appear visible to Hound's sensors, but Starscream knew it wouldn't fool the tracker for long.

"If you promise not to call out," he hissed, "I'll release you. I just want to talk. Understand?" The femme nodded and her vocalizer quieted its whimper. "Good." He turned her around in his arms. "Now, what's your name, doll?"

"Hues," she whispered, doorwings trembling.

"Hues," he repeated, rolling the name around his cortex. "Where did you come from?"

"Crashed. A long time ago. Like you." She cowered before him. Just as she ought.

"So, the Autobots told you our story." Starscream narrowed his optics. "Did they only tell you their version, though?" She didn't say anything, only stared. "I didn't think so. You see, the Autobots claim to fight for the freedom of all to live as the please, but that's what we Decepticons do, as well. The freedom to take from those weaker than yourself. The freedom to hold whatever you have the power to." The Seeker shuttered his optics briefly. "Power is the right of all beings, my darling little doll." Her doorwings tightened. "Join us and- what are those?" He picked her arm up and stared at the rings. "Dancer." His grip tightened on her arm and anger smeared across his face. "You are a slagging dancer, little doll?" He grabbed her throat. "Swear allegiance to the Decepticons and we'll let you keep some of your memories. Refuse and-" he squeezed.

"Hues!" a feminine voice called. Time was up.

Purple optics regarded him in fright. "Why do you hate us?"

"You're worse than dolls, who at least earn credits with what you freely give. You should belong to one, or none at all. You give hope to those who don't deserve it," he snarled. He pressed his arm canon just beneath her chest plate. "Choose."

"Hues!"

A scream ripped from the femme's lips.


Hound paused in his vivid description of the outlying land. Hues had just vanished. A weight settled heavily into his fuel tanks. He turned to Rhythm. "Let's find your sister."

The blue femme tilted her head in puzzlement, but didn't argue. He guided her upriver.

As they neared where he'd gotten the last reading of Hues' signal, Hound released Rhythm's shoulder and strode a few steps ahead. Jet fuel filled his olfactory sensors.

Rhythm glanced at the tracker. "Hues?"

Hound winced, but didn't stop the dancer from calling.

Rhythm listened and called again, louder. "Hues?"

A scream erupted from up ahead, and just as suddenly was choked off. Rhythm reacted faster than the mech. She scrambled over the rocky ground to reach her twin. Hound wasn't far behind. Blaster fire sounded, spurring the two on faster. Rhythm's small size made up for her lack of familiarity with the terrain. He heard her shriek Hues' name again. Starscream's voice answered harshly.

"Stop or I'll melt her to slag."

Where the frag had that aft-head come from. Hound paused just out of sight. From between the trees he could see Starscream standing over Hues' inert form. Quickly the tracker ducked into the woods to the side.

"Hound to base."

Static answered his call. Jammed. Double slag. That would explain why Hues had just disappeared, though.

He moved around the Decepticon. The jamming device wouldn't affect only his sensors. Hound slipped up behind the Decepticon, and made brief optic contact with Rhythm.

"Distract him," he mouthed.

He didn't intend for that to mean charging the Decepticon. But she did. It drew the Seeker's guns off the red-orange femme. Hound rushed in and kicked Starcream's feet from under him.

Starscream screeched angrily, firing a shot that impacted on Hound's shoulder. It burned like hell. He transformed and made a strafing run at the femmes and Autobot, and then he fled. When all is said and done, the Air Commander put on a brave face, but was in truth a coward. Hound shot a few more times at the retreating figure just to be sure. His shoulder blazed with pain that he shoved down. He had to get them back to safety before Starscream could get reinforcements.

"Rhythm, are you okay?"

The blue femme crouched next to her sibling; ignoring the smoked and energon leaking from her frame. "Hound, what do we do?" Tears ran down her cheeks.

The tracker peered down at the red-orange femme.

Air wheezed out of the hole blown through her ventilator, unable to squeeze past her crushed throat.

"Hound to base." Still static. "Help me pick her up. We have to get back to the road."

It shouldn't have been hard, but between his bad shoulder, and Rhythm's slightly fritzing system, it felt like an ordeal. He clamped a hand onto the femme draped over his shoulder and they began the walk to more drivable terrain. All the while Hound radioed the Ark, to no avail. Rhythm stuck by his side, or rather Hues' side, all but ignoring the smoldering holes that riddled her body. Hound's brow ridge drew down with concern. "You're smoking."

"It's nothing. I'm more concerned with her inability to ventilate.

Hound was about to respond when a voice suddenly broke through the static.

"Ark to Hound, Ark to Hound. We read you. Over."

Never was the tracker so happy to hear Blaster's voice. "Blaster, we were ambushed by Starscream. We've got wounded and require assistance."

"Assistance is on its way. I see you on the long-range sensors, and kzzzssshht-" The transmission abruptly broke off.

"They're coming." Hound told Rhythm, modulating the worry out of his vocalizer.

Their feet thumped onto the packed dirt road. He gently set Hues down and painfully transformed. "Put her in my front seat and transform we need to move." Decepticon signatures were headed their way.

"Wow, that was fast," Rhythm murmured. She wouldn't recognize them as Decepticons, he realized.

"But not who we're looking for. Get her in."

Rhythm placed her sister in Hound, and then she transformed. The two took off. Though the Esprit was built for speed, Rhythm hung back.

"It's a straight shot to the Ark. Go!"

"I am not abandoning my sister, or you."

The three Seeker jets pursuing them opened fire, hooting and hollering at the prey. Hound swerved to avoid the laser fire. Dust clouds appeared, rapidly approaching. His concern turned to keeping the femme in his front seat. Rhythm tried to copy his maneuvers, but one of her tires blew out form a stray shot.

Hound cried out in frustration and whirled about. He transformed, pain ripping through his shoulder. Hues dropped to the ground in front of him. He grabbed Rhythm's hood and dragged her over, covering the twins as well as he could with his bulkier body.

"Hey, Screamer, why don't you pick on someone who can actually fight back?" Sideswipe rolled up and shot to his feet, activating his jet pack.

Sunstreaker threw dirt in the air and transformed, his gun trained on Thundercracker. "Hound, can you move?"

The tracker groaned and rolled to his side. He strained to sit up, but his arms wouldn't cooperate. "No, this is as far as I can go. Rhythm," his optics turned to the femme, "you okay?"

The Esprit transformed and the femme scooted closer to the green tracker. "I'll be fine." But her wide optics and pained movement told otherwise. She turned and drew Hues closer with shaking hands. She crouched there protectively over her sister, flinching with every blast fired.

Five high speed juts thundered overhead, led by Sileverbolt they chased the Seeker's away.

Sideswipe came back down, cheeky grin plastered over his face. "That was some fun jet judo, at least," and here he pouted, "until the Aerialbots spoiled the fun."

Ratchet, Ironhide, and First Aid skidded to a stop and transformed to shake a fist at the Lambo twins. "What part of light duty don't you two understand? If you rip yourselves back open form your antics, you can find someone else to repair you." He crouched down and looked over Hound and the twin femmes. "Why don't you two help Hound to his feet and get him into First Aid.


Ratchet ran a scanner over the red-orange dancer. Rhythm crouched next to her sister, clasping one of the limp hands. Dust covered their exteriors. Cursing, he managed what repairs he could, then turned to Rhythm. "Think you can get her into my bay? Then you can climb into Ironhide."

"I'll roll along beside you," she snapped, interrupting the CMO.

Ratchet paused to stare at the twin he'd originally pegged as 'the shy one.' "No," he drawled, "you'll climb into Ironhide."

Her optics flashed defiantly. "I'll roll beside my sister."

"Hey Ratch."

The CMO turned to scowl at a certain red cheeky devil.

"How about if we see her safely to base?" A thin smile touched Sideswipe's lips. "We'll even carry her if we need to."

Rhythm twitched her doorwings in appreciation. "As long as you don't slow me down." Ratchet didn't want to delay further, when the red dancer so clearly need urgent care. He transformed and opened his bay doors. When Rhythm had arranged Hues to her liking, Ratchet closed his doors.

He waited for the three sports cars to transform before he moved out. Rhythm stayed even with him, though he knew it to be painful to have all that dust and dirt on exposed circuits.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stuck by her as promised. Sunstreaker stayed behind her, his bumper just barely grazing her rear. Sideswipe rode on her right, occasionally brushing up against her. Neither complained about the scratches that contact was sure to be making. In some ways the CMO understood why even the normally antisocial Sunstreaker seemed to be sympathetic. They knew, too well, what it was like to worry about a twin.

Ratchet didn't stop at the Ark entrance, but zoomed toward medbay. He made a note to inform Rhythm that the command element, which he guessed included himself, disapproved of anyone running around the Ark in vehicle mode.

Wheeljack came and unloaded the unconscious femme, allowing Ratchet to transform. Rhythm and the Lambo twins pulled up and hopped to their feet. The CMO snapped his fingers and pointed to a trio of seats located in the waiting area.

"Stay out of the way and you can stay. As soon as we get her stabilized we'll look at you."


Optimus Prime stepped into the med bay. Afternoon had long turned into evening, and this was the time he usually stopped to check on injured members of his crew. It wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last. It was routine. Every few megacycles, he would come out of his office and take a stroll around the Ark. He looked in on duty stationn. He poked his head into the lounge. He checked rec and training rooms. He wandered through the Residence deck. He would even pop in to see the Dinobots. Never at the same time. Never in the same order. It kept his mechs on their toes to know that Prime might very well pop up during their shift. It also gave them a bit of a morale boost as he stopped to speak to whomever he saw.

Now he was making his routine stop by the medbay. He walked clockwise along the berths, inquiring after those injured, like Cliffjumper, who had encountered Decepticons on patrol. He checked into Ratchet's office, but the CMO had more than likely taken a much needed break. First Aid was fiddling with some of the instruments attached to Hound. The tracker was in recharge, though he'd been online during Optimus' last visit.

"How is he?"

"What?" First Aid turned sharply in surprise. "Oh, he'll be fine. Ratchet has him recharging so his internal systems can affect repairs."

Optimus nodded and turned to the last two patients he'd yet to speak to.

Rhythm sat next to Hue's medical berth, her blue coloring marred by welds. She held one of her sisters limp hands in both of her own. Her doorwings trembled as she rocked silently. Dim optics stared at nothing."

The med bay doors whooshed open and Sunstreaker strode in with a cup of energon. He glanced at Optimus, but went straight to the dancer. He took one of her hands and pressed the cup into her fingers, speaking soft words in her audio receivers. Then the golden warrior sat down behind Rhythm and crossed his arms over his chest.

Optimus stood across from Rhythm. The femme downed the energon in a single gulp. She started when her optics met the Autobot commander's.

"Rhythm, it has been a long day. You should recharge."

Sunstreaker glanced up, a small scowl on his handsome face. Ah, right the whole twin thing.

The blue dancer set the cup on the floor, next to her. "She came online and told me what happened. She told me what this Starscream said."

"I know." Ratchet had reported that to Prime.

"I don't understand. What's so wrong with our ways? They've existed since Primus laid the foundation for Cybertron society.

"The Decepticons are possessive. They hate to share what they consider theirs, and they feel that everything and everyone belongs to someone. It's what motivates them in their goals for power."

"For that he hurt her. Just because we don't live a lifestyle he chooses. He wanted to kill her for being a dancer. The sparkless spawn of a Quintesson." Tears dripped down her cheeks and she looked away. "He would have left her there. If Hound hadn't been there she would have been killed. I don't even know the frequency to reach the Ark and he wouldn't have cared. I want to kill him, Optimus Prime." She turned her moist optics back to the Autobot leader. "I want to fight with you."

Her words filled him with sorrow. He hated that anyone would say that. Yet, he'd listened to words like those from many mechs and femmes. How many of them had fallen under his command. He knew none of them regretted their decision. But they didn't have to live with it. He did.

"Rhythm, you are upset, emotional. I don't want you to make this decision until you've calmed down."

She stared at him in surprise.

Optimus exchanged a quick farewell before he left her to reconsider her decision. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to place them in this war himself. But he couldn't deny the need for troops. If they could find a use for them beyond their art.


AN II: Halfway through this act. Yay. Thanks everyone for sticking through this with me.