Too Useful To Waste.
Summary: Both the Autobots and the Decepticons know how resourceful and inventive Sam Witwicky was. When Soundwave finds him dying after a battle, he wonders if he has a way to save Sam so his skills are not lost.
Warnings: Character death, minor blood and gore.
Rating: T for safety.
Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro and DreamWorks/Paramount. I make no claim to the contrary.
Please read first! Before you accuse me of plagiarism, I want you to first know that I have asked for, and received, permission from LittleMewLugia to continue the snippet. This is a project we're doing. We both have a common start off point, but we want to see where we'll both end up. If you doubt me, please PM LittleMewLugia and ask. Thank you for you consideration.
Chapter 8; Red Alert
Red Alert was not having a very good shift, but then again, he rarely had a shift that could be considered good.
The last 'good shift' that Red Alert could actually remember having was when Bumblebee and Jazz discovered one of Sideswipe's infamous traps, and then jury-rigged it so that it would only activate when Sideswipe approached.
Catching Sunstreaker had just been an added bonus.
Needless to say, that have been vorns ago, but he still remembered it fondly whenever being Chief Security Officer got to be too much.
And today was one of those days.
"What do you mean 'half the third deck just blew up'? Decks don't just spontaneously combust for no reason!" As the highest ranked office currently on the Ark, Red Alert was in charge of managing the entire ship, as well as the security duties he refused to give up, even temporarily.
"Well, the third deck is where we put most of Wheeljacks' inventions. Someone, I'm thinking Hot Rod or Hot Shot, thought it'd be a good idea to look through Wheeljacks' leftovers for a new upgrade," reported Inferno, standing in front of a seated Red Alert. Red Alert let his head hit his desk and groaned.
"Please tell me they weren't fatally injured…just enough to keep them in the med-bay, preferably offline, at least for a while."
"Mostly superficial damage, but I imagine they'll want First Aid to take a look at it when he gets here. You could always send them to the planet," added Inferno. "We have enough mechs on the Ark already. If the Decepticons decide to attack, we'll be able to defend ourselves and the planet easily enough."
"No, we'll keep them on the ship; just give them something to keep them occupied. I know the inventory hasn't been done in a while. Besides, if I send them to the planet, Prowl will have my spark; he's already got the twins to deal with."
Red Alert stood up from his chair and made his way towards the only window in his office. For the most part, the window was a basic star-field, but in the distance the red and white mech could see some of the system's planets, and in particular the third planet from the local star. From their position in the inner asteroid belt, the planet looked little more than a blue and white dot.
It was very different from the silvers and blacks of Cybertron, home of the Autobots.
"It's not Cybertron, but it'll be home. One day," Inferno said. Red Alert jumped; he had forgotten that his friend was still in the office with him.
He responded without looking back. "I know. It's not Cybertron, it will never be Cybertron." Red Alert vented some air through his vents. "I hope it never becomes like Cybertron."
Just as Inferno was about to say something, the data-pad on the computer beeped. Red Alert turned from the window and sat down at his desk once again. He looked at the data-pad and saw that he had received a report from Optimus Prime. He opened it and spent the next little while reading it, then handed it to Inferno.
Inferno read it quickly, and then put the data-pad back down on the desk.
"Shall you inform Hot Rod and Hot Shot, or shall I?"
Red Alert shot him a look. "What do you mean? I don't have to inform them of anything."
If Autobots had had eyebrows, Inferno would have raised his.
"You mean you're not sending Optimus Prime backup even after finding out that Soundwave, one of the most powerful and intelligent Deceptions ever known, made it past your defence grid with Primus knows how many Casseticons and Decepticons with him?"
Red Alert was silent for a few seconds.
"I hate it when you do that."
As much as Red Alert wanted to send the brothers to this planet, he had to wait for First Aid to see that Hot Rod and Hot Shot were in condition to fight. When it came to Wheeljacks' leftover inventions, it was always better to be safe than sorry.
But he would inform them that, if First Aid said that they were in an acceptable condition, yes, they could go to the planet, and no, they weren't allowed to gang up with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe against Prowl. They were to turn their energies to something more productive, like defeating the Decepticons that had made it to Earth.
But until their departure, they were to finish compiling the inventory of the Ark that had grown with each mech that had arrived.
He entered the rather bare med bay. While most of scanners and other large objects had been left on the ship, Ratchet had had most of his tools moved to the planet; both to have them near in case of emergency and also to make sure that no one messed with them.
Not that anyone would be foolish enough. No one, on either side, was that suicidal. Ratchet took it as a matter of pride that his med bay had never once been breached.
As soon as Red Alert had entered the med bay, Hot Rod and Hot Shot turned to face him, hiding something behind their backs and trying to look innocent.
They failed.
Miserably.
They opened their mouths, probably to say whatever excuses they had thought up beforehand. Red Alert waved it dismissively.
"I don't want, nor do I need, to hear your excuses."
They shut their mouths and stood, loosely, at attention. When Red Alert spoke in that tone he was speaking as their leader, not their Chief Security Officer/Favourite Target/Friend. This was Important.
"I just got a message from Optimus Prime. I'm sending you to the planet." The two yellow and red mechs high-fived each other, something they had picked up from the planet's World Wide Web. "However, you'll only leave once First Aid and his brothers reach the Ark. Until then," Red Alert pulled a datapad from his sub-space pocket. "You two are on inventory duty and I want it properly done. If not, Ironhide will get an anonymous message indicating who the people were that messed with his cannons on Kaiba-5."
Hot Rod, being the oldest and slightly more mature mech between the two brothers, nodded and reached for the datapad. Both mechs left without a word, heading towards the cargo hold.
Red Alert, his self-assigned mission now complete, headed towards the Security room, to help Inferno increase the strength and safety of the planet's defence system.
It was going to be a long shift.
AN; Well, here ends yet another chapter. I kinda like how this one turned out, even though half the characters making an appearance having no dialogue.
Now, some one you might be wondering why I brought in Hot Rod and Hot Shot. There is a simple reason for this; they are both cool characters. Well, that, and I was running out of characters that I was semi-familiar with (I'm more knowledgeable about the Beast Era than the Original Series). As for their relationship, here's how it breaks down, they are brothers, but not twins.
In this verse twins are created when a single spark splits in two as its being introduce to a shell. Brothers are mechs that were raised by the same creator, but not necessarily at the same time. Hot Rod is the older brother and Hot Shot the younger.
Remember, reviews are my bread and butter, the more I get, the more/faster I write!
Thank you FanfictionWriter83729, for betaing this chapter!