"So that's the famous Prowl?"
"That's Prowl," Ironhide confirmed simply.
Epps sighed as he mounted the metal stairs, rubbing a hand back over his shaved scalp.
"Man, this is fragged," he muttered.
Beside the gantry, looming ominously, Ironhide grunted, not able to dispute the assessment. The human officer reached behind him, pulling a chair along the gantry until it was beside the one Lennox had already claimed. The photographs Prowl had identified were already in the hands of analysts, and Prowl himself in Ratchet's forceful care. The rest of them had decamped back to the command gantry more out of habit than any real need. Evening twilight was starting to gather pace over the base. By rights, Lennox and Epps should have gone off duty an hour before, and the Autobots too should be taking downtime. All of them were too keyed up after the events of the day to even consider that option.
Epps dropped into his seat without taking his eyes off the mechs in front of him. "I feel for him, really I do, but, Prime, I gotta ask: why'd you let this happen? The bond thing. Way I understand it, wouldn't it just paint a target on their back for the 'cons? A get one, get one free type thing?" Lennox winced, and even Epps' pupils dilated a little, the sergeant able to see his own lack of tact. He might only have learned the details of Prowl's situation today, but he could hardly miss the mech's importance to the 'bots he knew. The human swallowed hard and stuck to his guns, pinning Prime with a serious expression. "How can it make sense to let your second and third get tied together like that?"
Optimus Prime's optics brightened, the subtle shift of his plating betraying amusement to Ironhide's trained optics.
"You appear to assume I had a choice?"
Epps shrugged. Lennox blinked. The major shook his head, scepticism written through the body language the Autobots were still learning to interpret. He leaned back in his own chair, tilting his head up at the mechs above him.
"Come on! They were your lieutenants, Prime. I know you were close to Jazz, and from what I hear this Prowl is kind of a stickler for rules. Even if you don't have fraternisation regs, you can't tell me they didn't at least ask permission?"
"Jazz could be a bad influence." Ironhide snorted through his vents and letting his arm cannons charge and discharge. "He was a natural sneak. And our Prime isn't the brightest spark when it comes to relationships."
Prime blinked at him, his optics dimming then brightening. "Prowl and Jazz were rather subtle pursuing their courtship." Only the Prime's deep and abiding aura of dignity prevented his tone from being defensive. "It was some time before I noticed they had become close."
Ironhide shook his helm, amused.
"I seem to remember you being less than impressed, when you did." He ignored Prime's uncomfortable shift and let his lip-plates quirk in a broad smile as he looked down at their young comrades. "The mechs had been courting longer than your kind have lived in cities, and Prime raises the wisdom of their 'new understanding' in a staff meeting."
The humans' eyes widened. A low breath whistling out between Epps' lips.
"What did they say?"
"Prowl offered Optimus a time for a private discussion later that orn, and moved on to the next item on the meeting schedule." The new voice startled them. Ratchet walked up to the group from the direction of medbay, shrugging his shoulders, and tilted his helm toward Prime. "Always kind of wondered what he said to you that took it off the agenda for good."
Optimus Prime stilled, the amusement or even resignation Ironhide expected to see absent. The weapons master frowned as his Prime's attitude became one of shame and regret. Optimus nodded slowly.
"I spoke to Jazz and Prowl separately and then together. Prowl presented evidence that both he and Jazz had never been more efficient and effective, that morale amongst our Autobots was higher, and that our tactical and Special Ops departments were working at an unprecedented level of cooperation and success. He stated honestly that he and Jazz were extremely happy and that the knock on effects of any forced separation would be catastrophic for them, for their contribution to our fight and ultimately to our cause as a whole." Prime paused. "Jazz pointed out that, as Prime, I would be the first target on any battle field. Beyond that, any Decepticon assault plan based on seniority, immediate threat, disruption potential, battlefield tactics, long-term strategy, confirmed kill count, vengeance for past battles or impact on morale would target either Jazz or Prowl or both already. Bonding could hardly make either a more tempting target."
"Whoa…." Epps sat up straight and, beside him, Lennox shook his head. The major's eyes drifted towards the sealed door of the repair bay, a new respect in his expression. Ironhide glanced away, his tanks rumbling. Prowl had always projected a deceptively calm demeanour that belied his very real abilities. After seeing him today though, looking so broken and ill, even the Autobots who knew him well might struggle to believe the tactician was the dangerous mech they knew.
Ratchet shook his helm, fixing Optimus with a firm look. Ironhide followed his friend's gaze, and the humans looked too, all of them intrigued to realise Prime had closed his battle-mask, concealing all but hints of his expression.
"And now tell us the rest," the medic suggested, his gruff voice just short of making it an order.
Prime vented a sigh, his optics straying back towards medbay before drifting away from all present.
"When I remained unconvinced, my officers reminded me of the core tenet of the Autobot cause: that freedom is the right of all sentient beings. They told me things I was hardly willing to hear – reminding me that our war had already spanned more than a generation, and that at least a second generation would inevitably suffer its travails, assuming that second generation ever came to be. They reminded me that our civilian population had been wiped out almost to the last, and that each battle had become more vicious, more destructive than the last. And then they told me that if the Prime had fallen so far from himself as to deny his mechs a simple expression of love, if our battles were all that mattered and all that there was to come, without hope for a future or freedom in the present, then they would be forced to seriously reconsider their roles in the army, and whether their duty, their future and the future of the mechs they cared for lay elsewhere."
The humans sat solemnly, not understanding the significance of Prime's announcement. The Cybertronians present could hardly miss it. Ironhide froze in shock, his vents pausing and his fans loud as he stared at the Prime. Beside him, Ratchet was scarcely less stunned.
"They threatened to leave the faction?"
"They'd have broken their Autobot oaths?"
The questions overlapped, both equally horrified. Ironhide's vocaliser choked around his words, his expression scarcely able to believe he was saying them. Prime raised a hand, the gesture sharp and his expression creased into a frown above the battle-mask.
"If I had refused their right to share their sparks… If I had done that to two officers who had given everything they had and everything they were to a war I helped create… If I was truly leading my people into a mire of destruction, without hope or a future… If I was willing to destroy the lives of two of my closest friends based on assumptions and arbitrary prejudices they'd already disproven… If I had breached all that I held sacred and all that I'd led a civilisation into fighting for… If all that were the case, then Prowl and Jazz would have walked out with their oaths unbroken and their Autobrands intact. They'd have taken half our army with them. And they'd have been right to do so."
The emphasis in Prime's voice sent a shiver through his audience. They could hear the echo of Prime's anguish, still raw after eons to consider his officers' words.
"Ratchet, Ironhide, if I'd banned that bond, or worse still, ordered them to break it, as I truly considered doing, then I'd no longer have been worthy of the title Prime, and any who still followed me would not have been fighting for freedom, or justice, or for any of the principles to which the Autobot oath is sworn, but only out of the same blind loyalty that Megatron demands in his megalomania."
Ironhide's cannons whirred, his agitation manifest in the involuntary movement. Ratchet scowled at Prime, the medic's expression twisted between anger and distaste. It was hard to grasp, that threat from two of the most committed and self-sacrificing Autobots anyone had ever known. Harder still with one of them gone to the Matrix, and the other broken but still struggling on even as he fell into the Pit.
Lennox looked between the Autobots, his expression grim, before looking up at Prime with an understanding the Autobots could scarcely credit in one so young.
"Sometimes the bravest and most loyal thing an officer can do is tell his commander when he's wrong."
Prime nodded. "Primus gifted me with two of the bravest and most loyal mechs ever to spark from the Matrix." His optics dimmed. "I have deeply missed their council."
Ironhide shifted his weight from one pede to the other, understanding taking the edge off his anger. He'd never, in all the millennia he'd known them, questioned his friends' commitment to the Autobot cause. It was both a relief and a shock to realise that the long-past conversation Optimus described did nothing to change that.
A rattle of metal wheels against the steel gantry drew Autobot eyes down to their human comrades. Lennox was standing, his chair pushed back against the gantry railing as he paced a few steps, detouring around Epps' outstretched legs. The major's fingers tapped against the console in a nervous pattern. It was familiar behaviour when their loss was mentioned.
Humans and Autobots had fought side by side in a dozen battles since Mission City. They would trust one another with hearts and sparks, counting them friends as well as colleagues. None of that changed the fact that Jazz died defending the fragile and inexperienced newcomers… and Lennox knew it.
The human swallowed back the guilt. He tilted his head to look up at Prime, putting a positive note in his voice. "Well, you've got Prowl back now, right?"
Optimus Prime looked at him. Just looked.
"Ratchet, your report?" Optimus's optics remained locked to the human, his faceplates impassive above the battle-mask. Ironhide looked from his Prime to the medic, rumbling uneasily.
"Details are between me and Prowl."
"Of course."
Ratchet vented a harsh sigh.
"He's in a bad way, Prime. The state he's in, it's a miracle that he's held off system failure this long. A miracle and more strength than I can imagine having in his position. He made it here, which means he's already one case in thousand. But, Optimus, it's barely more than ten decaorns since he lost his bond-mate. Statistically he's got less than a ten percent chance of making it through the next quarter vorn. Less than one mech in fifty in his position will survive a vorn." The medic paused long enough for that to sink in, his optics scanning his Prime and Ironhide and flicking over Major Lennox for good measure. The human's fists had clenched by his sides, the grim expression on his face mirroring that of the Autobot officers.
Concrete scuffed under Ratchet's feet and the mech glanced back towards the repair bay before going on. "There are complications here I can't go into, Prime, but Jazz wanted his bond-mate to live and I think Prowl intends to respect that. He's weak, very weak, and we could lose him to anything from a bad virus to sudden spark failure, but he'll want to do his job. You can have him on light duties – very light duties – after I've done some work and he's had some decent fuel and a lot of recharge."
Prime raised a brow-ridge, his battle-mask folding back out of the way to reveal a pensive expression. Ironhide's arm cannons cycled and the gantry creaked as he leaned a fraction of his considerable weight against it.
"You realise he's already interfacing with the base data and intelligence network?"
Ratchet scowled. "I've spoken to him about that." The medic waved a hand. "The mech's dedicated, not stupid. He knows his limits."
Ironhide couldn't hide his smirk, Ratchet sounded as if he was at least half trying to convince himself. Even the humans could hear the humour in the comment. Then Ratchet raised tired optics and all amusement drained away.
"Hide… any other time and I'd have our slagging tactician in stasis for his own good. Right now though… if Prowl can find any clue about Sunny, that's a risk we're going to have to take."
Each careful to avoid the others' eyes, Autobot and human frowned into nowhere. None of them could disagree.
Medbay was quiet when Ratchet returned from the command meeting, and the lights were dimmed. For a second or two he dared to hope Prowl might actually be resting, even as he knew how unlikely that was. Then he saw the two pools of dim light that reflected from the human-built ceiling.
Sideswipe's optics were lit, but there was no focus behind their faded glow. The warrior's torso and limbs were disarrayed, their movement betraying his pained writhing. Murmurs spilled intermittently from his vocaliser, some of them names or incoherent pleas, others no more than electric static. Ratchet murmured in return, moving to the twin's berth side and touching his shoulder gently in reassurance.
He looked up to find Prowl, optics faint with exhaustion, watching.
"He seemed to rest easier when I lowered the lights."
"He won't rest easily until we have Sunny safe and sound."
Prowl didn't argue with that, and Ratchet wouldn't have been impressed if the tactician had tried. Some things were beyond dispute. Sideswipe was running out of time, and that was indisputable too. They could only hope Prowl's lead produced results and soon.
Sighing, the medic tucked a black-trimmed arm back against Sideswipe's torso and turned from the berth. He hadn't really expected to find Prowl in recharge. Their second in command had a more than healthy complement of special ops programming – both acquired in his own right and inherited across his bond from Jazz. Prowl could probably list every packet of code that had crossed his firewalls in either direction, and quantify the mass of dust that had settled against his frame, since making Earthfall. He was certainly conscious of every transmission and mechanism in his immediate environs. Any mech with that much self-awareness was going to find the intrusion of an energon line, and the work his systems put in to assimilating the fluid, more than enough to keep him from rest.
If Ratchet was prepared to step in, with sedatives and programming blocks, Prowl would power down regardless, but even after an hour on the external supply, the tactician's reserves were shockingly low. His systems weren't even close to stable. Better to intervene as little as possible – at least until they had no choice.
And, of course, if Prowl was awake then he was not idle. Ratchet flicked out his sensors without warning, unsurprised to catch the ripple of comms traffic. Prowl wouldn't be the mech they knew and loved if he wasn't using the down time to catch up both on reports and the background context he needed to understand them. Given a new world to assimilate, the tactician would still be busy days hence with the influx of new information. Frowning, his medic considered doing something to block that – even if it meant turning off the medbay wireless hub. There wasn't a lot of point though. Give it another hour or two and the energon transfusion – at least this first transfusion of the series the medic had planned – would be over. If Prowl didn't recharge then, Ratchet would certainly have something to say about it. For the moment though blocking Prowl's access would simply leave the medic with a restless, exhausted and frustrated tactician on his hands. The mech's spark didn't need that kind of strain… and nor did Ratchet's.
Ratchet looked up at his friend and tried to see past the broken bond, past the worry for lost warriors and the looming shadow of the Matrix. Maybe it was Prowl's exhaustion reflecting back on him, or just the long, long hours of the last few days catching up with Ratchet himself, but he honestly couldn't think of anything to say. Where could he possibly start?
Prowl's small half-smile was spark-breakingly reminiscent of earlier days. It told Ratchet that his chagrin was seen and understood and, in some measure, shared.
"There will be time to talk later," the tactician murmured, his optics steady. "You're tired, Ratchet. I will watch over Sideswipe. You should rest."
"Says the pot to the kettle."
A look of sheer bewilderment greeted the human aphorism. That got a snort from the medic, and a reluctant smile teased from his faceplates. Ratchet took a few steps toward his friend's berth, reaching out to squeeze the tactician's shoulder. He shook his head as he turned away and headed towards his own office. There would be no recharge for him, not yet, but he couldn't deny that it would feel good to take the weight off his pedes.
"You've got a couple of hours, and then I want you powered down and recharging, understand?"
Prowl inclined his head, his optics already a little distant as he focussed on one of the many NEST reports neglected over the last few days. Smiling despite himself at the familiarity of the moment, Ratchet left his patients in peace.