**RELOADED** I didn't see the "Replace/Update Chapters" button so I deleted this chapter and re-loaded it before noticing that button. Just FYI to those who already read it and were about to be confused.

I hope no one is terribly upset at the frequent use of Cybertronian curse words, but I am trying to keep the story inline with a military setting since the story has to do with comparing one military outfit to another. Then again, I read a comment in a game magazine that real (human) soldiers don't insult or curse nearly as much as CGI soldiers, and the industry peeps responded back that it's now the expected norm that violence and foul language go hand-in-hand. Guess I just might be another piece of mass consumerism mislead by an industry that uses fantasy to "enhance" a simulation of reality. Oh well! It's not like I can go ask a Cybertronian soldier what it's really like (but don't we all wish we could?).

BTW, 1 chapter left. Story is unbeta'd.

The trip back to base was anything but fruitful. Well, for Ratchet anyways. He tried getting me to talk with quips meant to get a rise out of me, but I stuck to whatever non-committal sound I could muster without repeating the same one too often. It's not that I feel like sulking, but I'd really don't care about Ratchet's feelings right now. I don't care to return Ratchet's banter and I don't feel like being my usual upbeat, crazy-underneath-the-jokes warrior self. I know to the outside world I'm overacting to an unpleasant day, but then the outside words is full of squishy aliens younger than my paint job and warriors I don't like or didn't know very long before the Ark's expedition.

They're all missing the vorns of little crap that's been adding up or what I've lost. For someone like me, my therapy is crushing a Decepticon's face or ego. Either works fine by me, really. Back on Cybertron, my therapy was readily available and I never worried about setting up an appointment, so to speak. I would just take a little drive and "accidentally" wind up around a small Decepticon spy camp. Since more often than not, Sunny was with me, it wasn't that hard for the two of us to eliminate or capture the small camps trying to spy on our bases. Then we'd come back, some officer would want to punish us for disobeying regulations, but everyone else would be so happy by our gun-ho attitudes that we'd just end up with a few free drinks and lots of cheers. Basically whenever I had a problem on Cybertron, I'd end up drunk and happy.

Now I have to wait for the relatively-small and centralized Decepticon army to attack because Optimus has become too cushy with the humans and doesn't want us to instigate anything on their turf. No one but Sunstreaker knows how happy I secretly am when we discover a spying cassette or a lone Decepticon straying out for his own personal interests. My only other options are pranking the Autobots I usually don't like or playing human video games, which is pretty much like taking a placebo and knowing it's a placebo. And ultimately the pranks don't help because eventually I have to deal with Red and his "you've compromised our security" speech, causing the whole cycle to start again. But unlike when I was on Cybertron, I don't start the cycle drunk and happy.

So maybe I am taking this harder than expected, but my outlets are gone and my problems aren't. It's hard to not let your problems and their history get to you when you don't have a Decepticon on standby, waiting to be crush by your fists or your quick and awesome wit.

"Wheeljack, help Sideswipe out. He's blind so don't startle him or I'm going to have a mangled interior." Ratchet's words abruptly pulled me out of my thoughts and instinctively I tried to look around.

Wheeljack was smart enough to speak before grabbing me. "Hey Sideswipe, I gonna have to edge you out since a human ambulance is a wee bit of a tight fit around you."

"You calling me fat?" I felt a hand on my back, guiding me out while another hand supported my dead leg.

"Yeah, I'm calling you fat. I'm gonna have to set you on the medical berth reserved for Optimus-sized mechs," Wheeljack teased.

"Like your creators? 'Cuz I've seen what your carrier looks like when we interfaced after one high-grade energon party. It may have been vorns ago, but that image is seared to my CPU." I shuttered for good measure, only to discover that he had me next to a berth when my elbow smacked it. "Ow!"

"See? That's Primus' way of saying you're full of it. Now hobble onto the berth."

I did as he said, pulling myself onto the berth and settling down as comfortable as possibly. I absently listened to the two of them talk amongst themselves and the beeps and chirps of the scanners as they did their thing. I didn't feel like dwelling in my pessimism as the light mood Wheeljack and Ratchet were creating was peacefully distracting. Primus, I hope that thought didn't leak over the bond.

When I neither heard nor felt anything from Sunstreaker, I relaxed and continued listening to the two attend to my damaged body. I started playing "guess what body part they're talking about" since Seekers, nature, and Ratchet turned off the sensors at my injuries. It sounded like I'd lost or torn a bit of plating.

Despite that, it was a bit relaxing to listen to the two mock one another. That is, until Ratchet interrupted it all with a curse.

"Primus fragging damn it to the slaggin' smelt pits, Sideswipe!" Ratchet yelled over the scanner's beeps going off by the side of my face.

"What?!" A medic cursing you while scanner your cranial unit is so not good.

"I swear, if there was a God of Irony, I'd curse in his name. Or praise him, I'm not sure yet how I feel about this. You know your prank from earlier today?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Your prank caused First Aid to fall while in the storage unit and he hit the shelves that contained the spares that I need to replace your damaged optic relays and servos. Most of them were destroyed but some of them are in salvageable condition. Not that anyone had started salvaging yet, mind you, which leaves me with all the responsibility, as First Aid is down and no one else knows optic relays enough to salvage them. Damn you for making my life more difficult, you snow blower. I did have plans."

Wheeljack whistled and chuckled. "Wow, what a crappy day this is turning out to be for you, Sideswipe. You get chased off by Red Alert and then disobey regulations only to get pounded by Decepticons. Then you get back here to find your earlier antics are going to leave you blind for at least the remainder of the orn, or whenever 'cuz you're completely at the mercy of a medic you've thoroughly pissed off. What's that human saying? Karma's a bitch?"

"Argh! Shut up!" I snapped and I waved my arm to smack his smart mouth. I grazed his face fin.

"Ah, now calm down, Sideswipe. It could be worse. I mean, from a karma standpoint, it really can't get worse than this. Well, actually you could accidently stumbling into one of your own pranks and lose the other leg." I swear I could hear Wheeljack's fins lighting up in a fit of barely-suppressed laughter.

"Also, your leg can't be fully fixed for the same reason as the optics because the interfaces are damaged and Wheeljack usually doesn't work with that type of servo," chirped Ratchet. "However, I can repair what you have now and it should be good enough for you to limp around. Well, it should be good enough so long as you don't lean too far forward or backwards."

"You know what? I don't care. I'm not gonna sit here forever waiting to be able to see or walk normally. Just take me to my room and tell Sunstreaker to keep his trap shut."

"No."

"Excuse me, Ratchet? What do you mean 'no'? This isn't an emergency and I have the right to determine what kind of care I get and I want my care to get me to my room."

"Ah Sideswipe, you've been listening to human TV shows way too much. We – " I could feel the air around me move as he gestured to indicate Autobots as a whole " – are a military society, not a civilian country with politicians making grandiose speeches of freedom and pride. Your choices go about as far they can before conflicting with the numerous military regulations, and there's several in place that say a warrior in your condition can't be left unattended outside a medical facility. There's also another one that says you're still on probation for your earlier prank and must be supervised until your time is served, so you really have no choice in the matter regardless how you slice and dice it."

"Take your regulations and shove them up your aft." I turned my upper torso over so the mechs were facing my back. I guess they took the hint because I heard nothing from them for a few breems as they moved about the room. Eventually Ratchet worked on my hip strut, but I refused to talk. I'll trade insults and mockery with either one of them any orn, but not this one. Not after my therapy just me back with their peds way up my tailpipe.

Eventually the hands on my hip strut stopped and Ratchet spoke, "I think I should just take this time and repair those damaged spares, so I'm going to wrap up what I'm doing and after a little while your system repairs should be sufficient."

After a while, his presence at my side withdrew and even the background noises the pair made died away. Finally alone, I let my thoughts wander until they landed on the memories of the "therapy" battles on Cybertron. Slowly I could feel the tension in my struts and cables dissipate as I remembered the feel of a Decepticon's armor crumpling beneath my fists. I remember the first time I got a taste of what would become "jet judo" and I felt the plating on the Seeker's armor tearing in my grip. The moment was almost euphoric as I heard his curses and screams. Back then I was a lot more like Sunstreaker than I am now.

Nowadays I may not enjoy the violence like Sunstreaker, but the feeling of victory against those who ruined my home city is still a fond memory. Maybe I've been linked to Sunstreaker long enough for his thirst for his own vengeance to leak in, or perhaps I've been consumed by a ravenous war, corrupted by the numerous times I've had to watch my friends die by the mechs I'm supposed to stop. Or maybe it's the combination of being in a military society that rewards that kind of thinking in its warriors, the horrors I've been through, and the permanent damage of Sunstreaker's psyche connected to my mind. Not that it mattered anymore, since I will always find the screams of a Seeker to be pleasantly therapeutic. Unless he's screaming about his victory over me, like today.

"Sideswipe?"

Instinctively I turned to the sound of the assertive-yet-quizzical voice in the doorway. "Red?"

"Yes. Can't you see me?"

"No. There's a problem with the spares and it'll be several more joors before they're fixed. I also can't walk very well."

"I see…" Red trailed off and for the first time I felt like the paranoid one in the room. Why is he here? Pit, where is he?

"Hound found the missing security device you were looking for earlier."

"Hound looked for it? I thought that was gonna go to the next in line for punishing."

"I wanted someone reliable to do the job," Red spoke without regard. "I had a few … security distractions on my mind and I wanted someone one qualified to search through Earth's terrain to with typical scouting equipment. Hound was the best choice."

"Hn."

"Don't ignore me! I had to leave the base's biggest security risk to someone else's control – something I do despise – because the other security risk – " Red paused just as suddenly as he started chewing me out. Carefully he approached my berth to sit down in a nearby chair. There was a beat of silence before Red Alert continued again, but this time with more uncertainty than I've heard in a long time. "Namely, the security distraction that forced me to leave the task to another was the two unauthorized Autobot departures off the Autobot premises. As Hound was not only the last available scout but also the last available mech's whose face you wouldn't pound, I went to locate the two of you myself."

"You left your office to come find me so I didn't have to deal with some irritating pipsqueak?" I asked with an amazed tone. I knew that Red was aware of who I didn't like, I just didn't know it mattered to him.

"I thought the situation didn't require the risk of one Autbot antagonizing the other, and every situation I considered with the available personnel, such as Cliffjumper, ended with a fight. It seemed like an unnecessary security risk, especially after Prowl and Ironhide offered to take over the base's security detail for me while I was away."

"Oh." So much for him being thoughtful. Well, at least so much for him being entirely thoughtful. He did at least put forth the effort to try and find someone else first who I didn't have a problem with and while putting himself as the last option on that list may not seem like much to the others, I knew different. "Well, thanks anyways. I would've left more armor behind in that rock if you hadn't shown."

"I'm aware."

I snickered at his blatant statement. Not many mechs know this about Red Alert, but if his paranoia is right, he's rather narcissistic about it. "Well, thanks for saving me from a longer stay in medbay."

"Well, I better get back to the office. Hound finished retrieving the remaining devices and I want to test them thoroughly while the repairs are being made to ensure they still provide the necessary security measures."

I felt the air move as Red stood and I was surprised at his lack of acknowledgement. "I guess work is still stuck on your mind."

"It will always be, Sideswipe. My work is never done so long as there's an Autobot's life or information at risk." Red departed moments later and I was alone again. I can't believe that jerk blew me off. He knows I'm not in the business of freely thanking others. Who is he, Prime? Even Prime is less dramatic than that – well, usually less dramatic than that.

I'm so annoyed right now at Red. He's always putting work before his comrades and he acts like he's one of the most important 'bots to walk the Ark. Talk about having an over-inflated ego, even if he is the head of security.

I mean, security is only as good as the soldiers that carry it out. You can have hundreds of cameras watching a single entry hall, but they don't stop threats. Not unless the cameras are all transformers and that leads right back to my point.

You'd think he'd know that, considering he was fighting Starscream on a few joors ago rather than watching it from a camera. Unless he really did have a secret camera there and his appearance wasn't so much a coincidence as it was him catching sight of the Seekers' arrival. Or maybe he heard Starscream's voice while watching Hound's GPS signal like, well, a hound. It's a sound no mech can ignore so long as his audios slightly function, even one who can be as focused on his work as Red.

I thought back to when the Seekers first arrived, playing out Red's reaction in my head. Red watching Hound, giving instructions that an outdoor-loving transformer like Hound doesn't need because Red think he knows best, regardless of the skill's of the mech he's ordering. He probably blew a gasket when he heard Starscream's voice cutting into his room saying… oh what the Pit did Screamer say?

I paused and tried thinking back on Starscream's lame sneers. He said some lame backhanded insult about his own comrade, Soundwave. Starscream has no respect for his own comrades, trying to manipulate and control them all as if he knows best, that narcissist.

Abruptly I stopped my newest train of thought, recalling a previous one mocking Red for the very same things. Red tries to control our ever move claiming he knows best. He's not manipulative like Starscream, but when he's frustrated with the troops he starts one of his paranoid security rants and ends up belittling them, just like this morning when he said "I need someone I can trust to follow orders and use their CPU for more than just padding for someone's fist." I know Red has no social skills and vaguely has the ability to grasp the damage he does when he says the first thing that pops into his mind, but it's been a long time since I've seen him try to fix what he's most inept at doing. Someone could probably say the same thing about Starscream, but the only difference is that Starscream never cared to try in the first place.

Primus, if I can find similarities between those two, what does that say about Sunny and me, two soldiers that follow a workaholic, isolated, and aloof trine leader, and the two soldiers that follow a calculating, consumed and cold trine leader?