...makes Nightshade a dull mech.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Nightshade and my medical procedures.
Litahatchee was kind enough to point out that I forgot to mention that she lent me the idea of carrying from her story "Night Fire". And...that I also forgot to mention that P.A.W.07 and Okami-Chan lent me their ideas of a femme in hiding and dancers respectively. I am so sorry.
Nightshade rolled over in his berth, snuggling up to the wall. It was only seven in the morning, and Nightshade had no plans to get out of bed before noon that Sunday. There were a few more minutes of blissful, beautiful silence before a familiar chime startled him out of recharge. Someone wanted to talk to him. Nightshade put the transmission on ignore. His away message was set to "If no one is dying, leave me alone".
Ratchet was less than amused. He tried opening a channel once more, but Nightshade ignored him. Ratchet growled quietly – the rookie had been on base for almost four months and still hadn't gotten his physical done. Deciding that an early morning walk would be more proactive than making Red Alert retrieve the rookie, Ratchet stood up and made his way to the cadet wing of the base. The mechs on base knew that the subtle frown on Ratchet's face meant that someone was going to be dragged out of their room kicking and screaming, and hung around to see who the unlucky soul was.
Ratchet reached Nightshade's quarters and paused. An evil smirk crossed his face as he scanned the room – Nightshade was deep in recharge. It would be quite amusing to just barge in. With a smirk of morbid glee on his face plates, Ratchet typed in his override code and stepped into the room. He blinked at the utter chaos within. Holocubes and datapads were stacked haphazardly upon almost every available surface in the room. Old and empty energon cubes peeked from underneath the berth. The bookcase was overflowing with trinkets the mech had collected.
Against his better judgment (and indulging his curiosity), Ratchet went and peeked at the objects. There was a single gem in a glass case, obviously worth quite a few credits. A bundle of amber colored silk created by some species in the beta quadrant. An old tattered Earth literature book sat nestled between two large volcanic rocks. The second shelf was laden with holocubes and other miscellaneous objects. The third shelf was the most interesting – there was a full set of dancer's silks and bracelets, along with a dancer's emblem. He wondered why Nightshade would have those – did they belong to an old lover? There was an old holographic photo and he picked it up. Crosswise had one arm around the petite Day Lily. They were both standing off to one side – a beautiful little blue femme stood in the center, her arms raised above her head. He recognized the silks and emblem on the femme. Was that sister Nightshade had spoken so highly of? She looked quite familiar, though he could not put his finger on the reason why.
He turned back to the berth. Nightshade was still snoozing away. Ratchet experimentally prodded Nightshade in the shoulder. The mech groaned and curled up more tightly. Ratchet smirked as he poked the mech again.
"Whadyawant, Mirage?"
A third poke.
"Mirage."
Ratchet could barely hold back his snort as he poked Nightshade a fourth time.
"FRAG OFF," Nightshade bellowed, kicking out as hard as he possibly could. His foot met something solid with a loud clang. The yelp of pain that he heard alerted him to the fact that it was not Mirage poking him. Nightshade peeked out from underneath the cushion. Ratchet was towering over the edge of the berth, a thunderous look on his face. Nightshade made a soft 'eep' noise and clamped the cushion down more tightly.
Never, not even in his worst nightmares, had Nightshade ever seen something quite so scary. Ratchet was not a mech Nightshade wanted to wake up to in the morning. Nightshade quivered pitifully when a large red hand yanked the cushion away.
"Nightshade. Med bay. NOW."
"No," Nightshade said, tugging the cushion away from Ratchet. Nightshade then rolled over onto his side, pulling it over his head. Ratchet blinked. No one dared to flat out refuse his requests. A scowl crossed his face plates.
"It wasn't a request, Nightshade."
"Why are you in my room," Nightshade asked, raising the cushion a few inches to peek out from underneath it.
"You've been on base three months and – "
"Three months, two weeks, four days," Nightshade cheekily retorted, but ducked back underneath the cushion when Ratchet growled quietly and raised a hand. Not a good situation to be in. Nightshade wondered where the 'Cons were so they could distract the good ole' Hatchet.
"And you still haven't gotten your physical done. Get your aft up and in the med bay now," Ratchet said, pointing at the doorway. Nightshade raised one optic ridge at his mentor…and rolled back over to face the wall. Ratchet let out a tiny growl.
And that was how Nightshade found himself literally being dragged to the medical bay. Ratchet had one hand firmly wrapped around Nightshade's upper arm. Nightshade was protesting, trying to make up excuses as to why he couldn't get a physical done. Ratchet silenced him with one look. He opened the med bay doors and neatly shoved Nightshade into the room.
"Get on the table."
"What are you going to do," Nightshade asked warily, shooting glances between the table and Ratchet.
"You know what a physical examination is. Get on the table."
That was when Nightshade officially panicked. A physical examination consisted of making sure relays were working properly, joints were well lubricated, and sparks were within normal parameters. There was one tiny problem – Ratchet thought Nightshade was a mech. And if Ratchet found out, who knew what would happen to the femme-in-hiding?
Ratchet noticed the change in Nightshade immediately – the mech was all but cowering where he stood. He approached slowly, watching as the mech shrank away from him. Ratchet knew that he scared the mechs on base, but they were never truly frightened of him.
"What's the matter with you," Ratchet asked, crossing his arms.
"I've never opened my chest plates before," Nightshade admitted. It was true – he'd never done it before, not even for Moon Racer. Then again, Nightshade found it relatively easy to trick Moon Racer into believing that he'd had his physical done already. Ratchet blinked in surprise. Opening ones chest plates was something quite intimate, usually only done with a trusted lover or during examinations with a qualified medic.
"If it makes you that uncomfortable, I'll settle for a good scan…but you will have to let me do a proper examination some time soon," Ratchet said. The words did little to put Nightshade at ease. If Ratchet used one of his more powerful scanners, Nightshade's insides would be lit up like a Christmas tree and he'd be able to clearly see that Nightshade was indeed a female. But if Nightshade refused, Ratchet be suspicious and do it anyway. Nightshade nodded hesitantly.
Ratchet booted up his scanner and glanced over Nightshade's chest. The read-out was still the same – radiation, frequency, and intensity were all still too low. Ratchet frowned slightly.
"Nightshade…you're not as old as you say, are you?" It was more of a statement than a question. Nightshade only gulped quietly.
"How old are you?"
"Four hundred and fifty vorns?"
Ratchet glared at him.
"Try again."
"Three hundred and fifty?"
Ratchet's glare grew more intense. Nightshade shuffled where he stood before blurting out his age.
"Twohundredandfortyone."
Ratchet almost choked at Nightshade's confession. No wonder he was uncomfortable with opening his chest plates!
"You're not going to tell Prime, are you?"
After a long moment, Ratchet slowly shook his head.
"Physician-patient confidentiality. Besides. You've done nothing wrong. I see no harm in keeping it under wraps until Elita and her platoon arrive. Then you get to tell her that you lied to her."
Nightshade winced at the word 'lie'. He preferred to think of it as stretching the truth a little.
"Now get out of here. I'm scheduling a full physical in two orns, so you'd better get over your shyness."
Ratchet watched as Nightshade ran out of the room. He frowned as he went back over the readings. Even if Nightshade was that young, his spark should have fit within a specific bracket. Not even as a subadult would the readings be that low. He made a mental note to keep an extra close optic on the rookie.
The next day…
"Alright, Nightshade. Are you ready for your first day as an intern," Red Alert asked, standing in the doorway of the surgical bay. Nightshade nodded, twitching slightly in excitement. He honestly couldn't believe it! Nightshade was going to be working alongside his mentors, helping and contributing to their procedures! Who knew what fountains of knowledge his mentors would bestow upon him? Life saving procedures? How to heal? The complexities of the Cybertronian body? Nightshade fairly trembled in excitement.
"There will be many things expected of you as an intern. Are you sure you can handle it," Ratchet asked, raising one optical ridge at Nightshade. He nodded again, slightly impatient.
"Your first assignment will be your most important," Red Alert said seriously, "And based on how well you accomplish it will determine your level of study."
"You ready to start," Ratchet asked. Nightshade nodded so eagerly that Ratchet was tempted to check for cranial damage.
"Good," Ratchet said. He and Red Alert shared a triumphant smirk.
"Your tasks around here consist of cleaning," Ratchet said, handing Nightshade an identification chip, "Cleaning supplies can be found in the storage room right next to the library. You'll need your identification chip to access the cleaning chemicals. Instructions are on the bottles. Surgical rooms must be cleaned manually before being sterilized."
Nightshade nodded dejectedly, idly turning the chip in his hand over.
"Did you think we were going to let you jump in immediately," Ratchet asked, amused. Nightshade was looking quite like a kicked puppy. The mech looked down, almost embarrassed.
"We'll let you watch procedures, don't worry about that. This is a list of what needs to be done," Red Alert said, taking pity upon the mech and handing Nightshade a hefty datapad, "It has daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly tasks. Be sure to use the calendar in the backroom to track what you have and have not done."
"For the first two weeks, you will be working night shifts – 10 p.m. to 10 a.m. Your tasks will be to clean this place up and have it ready for us in the morning. You'll be watching any procedures during the four hour overlap – you'll be watching cosmetic work, physicals, and other non-emergency procedures," Ratchet said, glaring and emphasizing the word 'physical', "then, when we're satisfied with your general knowledge of supplies and tools, you'll work days with us. While you're working days, you will be cleaning up the medical bay at the end of shift. Normally, the med bay closes at six, but be ready to be called in at any time. Emergencies can happen at any time."
"Do not put any transmissions from Ratchet or me on hold. I heard about the stunt you pulled this morning. Do not let it happen again," Red Alert said, scolding Nightshade gently. Nightshade had the decency to look sheepish.
"You'll be working four extra cycles every Saturday. You will be responsible for cataloguing and restocking all of the storage, testing basic supplies, and organization. Don't let us down, Nightshade," Ratchet said. Red Alert nodded and handed Nightshade another datapad.
"Your work schedule for the next two orns, rules, and a list of when to call us and when not to call us," he elaborated, "oh. One more thing, Nightshade. Know this med bay like the back of your hand. You never know when we might need your assistance in gathering supplies."
"You follow us so far? Since your shift doesn't start until 10, I suggest you rest and get some energon. If you finish early, you may use my library. No energon or high grade around my holocubes. The rest of the rules are in your datapad. I expect you to follow my instructions to the letter. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Nightshade said. Red Alert clapped his hands together. Time to get down to official business.
"In one year, you will be tested again. Here's a secondary list of required readings, recommended readings, worksheets, labs, and diagrams. You'll be responsible for teaching yourself the theory while we help you apply it. If you pass the second exam, you will become an official assistant and you will become eligible for further training," Red Alert said, handing Nightshade an even larger datapad. Nightshade stared at it. The thing was gigantic. Nightshade needed both hands to hold it up.
"Do not slack off, Nightshade. I expect you to eat, recharge, and bathe with that datapad in your hand. Forget about scores - if you do not meet my expectations, you're out of the medical bay and you'll be put on probation with Ironhide," Ratchet growled out quietly, "Waste my time and you will regret it."
Nightshade nodded, gently edging away from Ratchet. Ratchet pretended not to notice. He continued.
"This datapad is linked to my computer terminal. It contains worksheets on the holocubes you are required to study. I will be conducting random examinations on what you complete and I will leave you notes and my opinion on what I think. If it is not up to par, you will know about it. If I don't like it, you will reread the holocube, redo the worksheet, and write a one thousand word essay on why you failed to meet standards," Ratchet said, handing Nightshade yet another datapad, "I will also be scoring you on your performance during any procedure you watch. You will not know when I am scoring your work. You will know the day after. If I don't like it, you fail. You fail, you get to do another essay explaining any faults I find with what you do, correcting your mistakes, and what you plan to do in the future to avoid making the same mistake."
Nightshade's optics were so wide and so full of fear that Red Alert was tempted to soothe the rookie. Ratchet was scary when he got into one of his moods.
"Your life from now on will consist of studying. I don't have to tell you what's going to happen if I catch you wasting time fragging around and not studying. There's also a sample schedule in there, though it doesn't allot nearly enough time to studying basic internal procedures. If you need help with anything, you can contact Red Alert. He will be your mentor and he will guide you through the process. He's been through it before."
Nightshade dared to speak.
"What about you, sir?"
Ratchet turned an acidic glare in Nightshade's direction. Nightshade reflexively took a step back and clutched the teetering pile of datapads to his chest.
"I'm just here to make your life miserable," Ratchet shot at Nightshade. Nightshade just nodded. Red Alert shook his head. Ratchet was the better teacher; otherwise he wouldn't have been commissioned as CMO. In fact, those were part of his duties. He was responsible only for the most complicated cases while the assistants took care of the rest. Ratchet was supposed to teach his assistants how to be leaders like him, not terrify the slag out of them. Red Alert placed one gentle hand on Nightshade's shoulder, shaking his head slightly.
"He's just kidding. He is as much your mentor as I am. Don't be afraid to ask any questions, Nightshade," Red Alert said gently. Nightshade shot Ratchet one suspicious look before nodding. Red Alert mentally rolled his optics – Ratchet just didn't want to deal with Nightshade and he vaguely wondered why.
"Now. Here is a list of things you'll need to have completed before your examination. It's your responsibility to keep track of what basic procedures you've seen and done. I will fill out a score sheet on every single one of these procedures. You will be responsible for copying those into this datapad. This is your portfolio. You are more than welcome to look at mine or Red Alert's, if you want to see how yours should look. I will show you how to fill out a report once. After that, you're on your own."
Nightshade nodded, accepting the third massive datapad. Red Alert smirked. Ratchet made the 'assistant' exam sound so difficult! In reality, it was no more difficult than Nightshade's initial examination. There were just more tasks that needed to be done and more paperwork. Ratchet pulled another datapad from his subspace inventory and stacked it on top of Nightshade's already teetering pile.
"This datapad contains our medical laws. I don't care if you don't recharge for the rest of the year – you will know that datapad word for fragging word. You will be practicing under my license, which means I am responsible for your actions. I will not have my license revoked by some ignorant little rookie that forgot to read. If you mess up, you will be kicked out of this program and you will never set foot in here again. Do you understand?"
Nightshade nodded, all but shaking where he stood. Red Alert nodded. This time, Ratchet was being completely serious. If Prime even mentioned revoking Ratchet's license, there would be Pit to pay with the medic. Ratchet wouldn't stop until he had Nightshade's cranial unit in a jar somewhere.
"This datapad contains a list of medications. It contains doses, indications, contraindications, and other properties. You will not administer any of these. However, you will be assisting us. You may be called on to retrieve some of these medications. I expect you to know this manual word for word as well. If any of my patients come to any kind of harm because of a mistake on your behalf, I swear to Primus above that Prime will be the least of your worries," Ratchet growled, leveling one finger in Nightshade's face plates. Nightshade audibly gulped. Red Alert nodded once more. Once again, Ratchet was being brutally honest. He took his role as a medic very, very seriously. Ratchet had even translated and inscribed something called the Hippocratic oath onto a plaque and hung it in his office. Ratchet had been immensely impressed with the saying.
"I'm also not impressed with the scores you earned on your practical exam. Reread these holocubes. In fact, I want you to reread these holocubes and prepare for an examination next Friday. I also want a short essay explaining why you failed to meet my standards and why you threatened Sunstreaker. Yes, I know you threatened Sunstreaker. I'm the only one allowed to threaten him," Ratchet said, glaring down at Nightshade. Once again, Nightshade managed to look sheepish and tried to stammer out an explanation. Ratchet raised one hand.
"I don't want to hear excuses. This is the last holocube. This contains exactly one thousand questions that could be on your exam. If you can answer twenty percent of those questions, you're well on your way to passing my exam. Don't get your hopes up. Red Alert had to take his exam twice before he passed," Ratchet said dryly. Nightshade nodded his understanding and shifted the gigantic pile in his arms.
"That's it for now. You'll have more things to take care of when you get settled into a routine. Don't worry about studying tonight – get used to the medical bay and know where supplies are. On Sundays, your aft had better be in that library from sun up to sun down. Got it?"
Nightshade nodded again.
"Get out of here," Ratchet said, waving the mech away.
"Ratchet, that was just cruel," Red Alert said, lounging in one of Ratchet's seats. Ratchet shrugged, leaning back in his chair.
"I know I'm going to regret saying this in front of you, Red, but that kid has some serious potential. That presentation blew me away. In all honesty, I thought he was going to fail badly. He managed to complete an entire fifteen minute presentation on maintenance, of all things, and answer questions for a straight forty five minutes," Ratchet said, propping his feet up on his desk, "He didn't do too well on the practical examination, but he can be trained to do better. You can't train someone into that type of dedication." Red Alert looked smug at Ratchet's declaration.
"Ratchet, I'm going to enjoy saying this. I'm going to savor every astrosecond... I told you so!" Red Alert exclaimed.
"Ha ha, very funny, Red," Ratchet sneered, shaking his cranial unit.
"Are you going to tell Nightshade that you were kidding about the studying and 'essays'?"
"No."
"Why not? The kid considers your word law, Ratchet, he's probably upstairs reading instead of recharging," Red Alert said, shrugging, "He's a fragging over-achiever, that's what he is."
"No, Red Alert, you're just upset because he beat your presentation scores," Ratchet said smugly, making a face at his long time face. Red Alert countered the look with a vulgar gesture.
"Ratchet, I'm being very, very serious. Nightshade will be in here in the next two orns for exhaustion if you don't cut him some slack," Red Alert said.
"I don't cut anyone slack, Red Alert. If I have to push Nightshade to his physical and mental limits to get a good assistant, then I will. You were no different," Ratchet said, effectively ending the conversation. Red Alert shrugged, not wanting to let go of the topic.
"Whatever, Ratchet, but if Nightshade gets hurt from over exhaustion or something like that, then all blame rests entirely on you," Red Alert commented quietly. Ratchet nodded and leaned back in his chair.
"Alright, fine. But I expect Nightshade to replace you one day. You can't juggle being an assistant and working as chief of security once more Autobots arrive," Ratchet reminded Red Alert quietly. Red Alert nodded, sighing.
"Yes, I know…"
"And we don't know if there will be other medical personnel. For all we know, the last attack…"
"I know, Ratchet. I know how many medics and students died that day," Red Alert said sharply, shaking his cranial unit, "You know what? I think I'll take my break now. I'll see you in an hour."
"I'll see you later, then," Ratchet said softly, watching as Red Alert stiffly marched from the room.
:)
:insert fond smile: Ah, yes. My EMT instructor was an ex-Marine. He was scary.