Chapter Eight: Hot and Bothered
Ratchet is a pervert in this chapter, just so y'all know. Well, he's a pervert all the time but he'll be blatant about it. I don't mention it in this chapter, BUT.
Carrying belongs to Litahatchee from her story "Night Fire".
And I am not having issues with keeping Nightshade's gender straight. It's done that way for a reason, to show how certain things are affecting her as a femme. :D
I also know I haven't updated in a long aft time...bear with me. I haven't had much time to do anything but study and do homework lately.
…hands were clawing at her chest plates, forcing them open. Nightshade screamed and pushed at the mech leering down at her, but he didn't budge. His chest plates hissed open…
Nightshade shot up in his berth, shaking as he tried to shake the horrible dream from his processor. He glanced down at his chest. The armor was still completely intact, hiding the feminine shell beneath. Nightshade trembled slightly as he removed the chest armor and examined himself – her chest plates were still sealed shut. Good. Nightshade scooted over onto the edge of the berth and dropped onto the floor. He rummaged around underneath the berth for a few moments. Nightshade's nasal plates crinkled up at the moldy cube of energon he'd unearthed. Ew.
He tossed it into a recycling bin before reaching back underneath the berth. Nightshade found a riveter. A few moments and six rivets later, Nightshade had reattached the armor and was sitting cross-legged on the berth. He flopped backwards onto the cushion and shuttered his optics, struggling to initiate his recharge program. When he found that he couldn't initiate the program, Nightshade turned his gaze to his belongings scattered across the floor. Cleaning the medical bay had always made him sleepy, so why would his room be any different?
Nightshade immediately tackled the daunting task of organizing his messy room.
Two hours later…
Nightshade crept out of his room quietly. The hallway outside was dark, lit by tiny yellow lights embedded in the floor. Nightshade shut his door silently and made his way to the medical bay. If he couldn't fall asleep on his own, he'd read one of Ratchet's encyclopedias until he fell asleep. It only took Nightshade a few minutes to reach the medical bay.
He fished his identification chip from subspace, inserted it into the port on the wall, and went inside. It was dark and creepy looking, as was the norm. Nightshade shivered and hurried into the library. He flicked the back lights on and picked up a holocube. Nightshade shuddered when he remembered the last time he had failed one of Ratchet's pop quizzes. Nightshade had known from the moment he walked into Ratchet's office that he'd failed. He had failed horribly. It wasn't even technically his fault – they weren't even looking at that particular holocube. Ratchet had even admitted to administering the wrong exam, but no. He then went on to say that Nightshade should have been past those holocubes in his personal studies. Nightshade diligently began taking notes. That stupid essay was due today and he was just now starting it.
Nightshade made a note to stop procrastinating.
Ratchet twitched, purring in his sleep. Firestar and some other femme were standing rather close together, their hands starting to drift towards one another. He shifted his position in the chair, focusing the zoom in his optical software. The femmes giggled, shooting him appraising looks. Primus, this was why he loved being so good at his job – the femmes would kill for a few of his private "lessons". The taller black femme turned and opened her mouth plates. Instead of speech, he heard a rather loud, rather annoying buzz. Ratchet grimaced. This wasn't what had happened! What was that noise? His optical software came on line against his will. He saw the flashing red warning message in his vision and snarled quietly, cursing the direct link between the medical bay and his processing unit.
"Who the frag would be in the medical bay at this hour?" he grumbled to himself, wiping the remnants of recharge from his optics. He woefully stored the video file in its rightful spot before swinging his legs over the edge of the berth. His entire body burned. He'd take care of that later, but now he had a mech to kill.
Nightshade was awoken by a loud slamming noise. He yelped and jolted out of his seat, scrabbling wildly for his weapon. Ambush! Decepticons! Where was his gun? Nightshade slowly became aware of the smooth warm metal underneath his head. Since when were Decepticons smooth and warm? Nightshade cracked one optic open when he realized he wasn't being deactivated. Ratchet was standing in the entrance to the library, looking very, very cranky. The tray he had slammed against the wall was now severely dented. Nightshade gulped.
Maybe he was going to be deactivated.
"What was that for, Ratchet?!" Nightshade exclaimed, struggling to sit up. Ratchet stalked into the library, his frame eerily lit by the halogen lights. Nightshade cringed, desperately looking for something to hide behind.
"It's four in the morning," Ratchet snapped, his left optic wincing slightly, "Why are you in here?"
"I couldn't recharge," Nightshade mumbled quietly. Ratchet's glare grew more intense.
"And why did you decide to wake me up in the process?" Ratchet asked. Nightshade stared up at him in confusion.
"What are you talking about?" Nightshade asked. He hadn't made any noise, he'd made especially sure of that!
"Every time that door opens during unauthorized hours, I get a loud, irritating notification that will not shut off until I come in here. Even while I'm recharging," Ratchet growled.
"I didn't know, I'm so sorry, Ratchet, I – "
"Shut. Up."
"But – "
"I told you to shut up, Nightshade!" Ratchet finally snapped, looking very upset, "This was the first time in weeks that I get a full night of recharge and youruin it. You know what? Go get me a cube of energon with a shot of high grade. Heat it up for me."
Nightshade goggled at Ratchet for a moment. Ratchet's glare intensified even further when Nightshade did not immediately snap to attention.
"Go."
Nightshade turned and sprinted out of the room.
Nightshade was a smart mech. He knew where Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were hiding their stash of high grade. Nightshade thoughtfully relieved them of some of the contraband and took it back to his room. Nightshade had a very good hiding spot for his share of the high grade. There was a ground-level air conditioning vent beneath his recharge berth. If Nightshade carefully laid the barrels on their sides, he could just about fit them all inside.
He didn't drink, but high grade was hard to come by these days, especially now that the twins were forbidden from making any more. He could barter the high grade for paid time off, if he really wanted to. But Nightshade wasn't going to do anything quite that stupid.
Instead, he decided to give Ratchet a shot of the high grade. The mech's silence would be obligatory because they would both be suspended if they were caught consuming the stuff. Nightshade brought the mixture back to Ratchet, almost leaping when Ratchet grabbed the cube from him. The mech went into his office and began drinking it, trying to make himself believe that he wasn'tat work, that there was a pretty femme waiting for him in his apartment, and that he didn't need to deal with Nightshade. He could almost make himself believe all of that. Instead, the drink didn't last nearly as long as he would have wanted, and he found himself wistfully staring down at the empty cube. He tossed the empty cube into a recycling unit, his fuel tanks pleasantly warm from the combination. Nightshade was proving to be a good little rookie. He poked his head outside of his door. Nightshade was sitting on the floor, reading something.
"Nightshade? Meet me in room eight, your physical is scheduled…"
Ratchet stared at the medical bay doors. Nightshade had disappeared so quickly that he wondered if the mech had teleportation abilities like Skywarp.
Nightshade sprinted down the hallway, his processor twisting. The dream his computing center had conjured up the previous night was replaying in her mind, and instead of an unnamed mech, his processor had replaced him with images of the mechs he did know. Sunstreaker. Bluestreak. Sideswipe. Kup. Even Bumblebee.
He slammed into something hard with a noisy clang. He bounced off of the surface and onto his aft, dazed. Nightshade stammered out an apology, rubbing his aching cranial unit. He looked up. It was Prime. A calculating look had taken the usual gentle smile. Prime offered one hand silently and heaved Nightshade to his feet effortlessly. Nightshade began trying to edge around him.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Optimus asked, though the gentle teasing in his voice was belied by the glint in his optic. Nightshade took an involuntary step backwards.
"My room, sir," Nightshade stammered out. Optimus took a half step forwards, reaching out to touch Nightshade's shoulder.
"Is there something we need to discuss, Nightshade?"
Primus, he knows. Nightshade immediately tensed and began stepping back away from Prime. Prime advanced. Nightshade instantly began panicking. She stood no chance against Prime himself. He would be able to overpower her in seconds.
"N-no sir, I don't think so." Nightshade took another small step backwards. Prime frowned slightly but managed to keep it hidden.
"I think it would be best if we sat down and talked, Nightshade. Ratchet is very concerned for you," Optimus said gently, one hand firmly clamping onto Nightshade's shoulder. Optimus was genuinely concerned for the rookie. He could feel the tension in the mech's frame. The fear in Nightshade's optics was enough to make Prime's spark fall.
Optimus knew he was an imposing mech. He was gigantic compared to Ironhide and Ratchet, but he was quite gentle. Prime had never purposefully harmed anyone. Sure, there was the one time he had stepped on one of the minibots, but that wasn't even technically his fault. Prime went out of his way to avoid frightening mechs and the organics, but Nightshade's obvious fear was enough to make his spark twinge. What had he, Optimus Prime, done to merit such distrust from Nightshade? He had performed his every duty to the very best of his abilities. He had been the one that all of his mechs depended on. Why couldn't Nightshade trust him with whatever he was hiding?
"Please come with me, Nightshade," Optimus said. Though his tone was soft, it left no space for argument. The walk back to Prime's office was easily the longest one of Nightshade's life. All the while, thoughts whirred through 'his' processor.
Prime has no use for me, he's already bonded. He wouldn't be able to sire a sparkling by me, he'd only be able to interface… Nightshade shuddered quietly. Who would be the first to have her, then? Would it be in order of seniority or whoever got a hold of her first? Nightshade subconsciously wrapped his arms around his chest plate, rubbing his arms delicately.
Optimus watched Nightshade from the corner of his optic. He had his arms wrapped around his chest plate. The only time a mech (or femme) ever did that was if their chest plates had been forced open, or Primus forbid, forced to join sparks with another. Prime's concern only grew tenfold. He knew Nightshade lied about his age. Ratchet had even confided in him about Nightshade still being a subadult.
Optimus opened his door and waited for Nightshade to go in. Nightshade gave a soft mumbled thank you and went into the room. Optimus followed him inside. He wordlessly took a seat and motioned for Nightshade to do the same.
"Please sit down, Nightshade."
The mech obeyed shakily. Optimus's exhaust sighed gently as he rifled through a few datapads on his desk. What was he to do? He peeked over at Nightshade, who looked very small and very out of place. He was shaking where he sat. Poor kid must have been terrified.
"Nightshade, I know that you've been lying about your age. I also know that you are not an adult male," Optimus said, pausing to gather his thoughts. Nightshade froze. His fuel tank disappeared as he processed Prime's words. He knew? Oh frag. Fraggity fraggin' frag. These were her last moments as a free femme, her last moments as an innocent. Optimus didn't notice the fact that Nightshade was now trembling. Luckily. He continued speaking.
"But that does not matter right now. I won't punish you, Nightshade. All I want to know is why you lied to us about your age...as a subadult, you won't be able to go out on another mission," Optimus said gently, looking up at him. Nightshade looked strangely relieved about something. Optimus filed the reaction away. He, Ratchet, and Red Alert needed to have a discussion.
"I'm sorry, sir. I lied because…because…"
Nightshade faltered, trying to think up of a good story to tell. Prime took his silence as a moment of weakness.
"Take your time, Nightshade."
"I lied because I was afraid," Nightshade mumbled quietly, ducking his optics down. Optimus glanced up sharply, his intakes hissing quietly. Nightshade subtly scoot away from him at the angry noise.
"Afraid of what, Nightshade? There is no reason for you to fear any of us. Has anyone threatened you…or touched you in any way?" Optimus asked. His optics narrowed when Nightshade crossed his arms over his chest at the last statement.
"No, no sir. I was afraid that I'd be treated like a youngling after all that I've been through. I just want to see my family again…" Nightshade trailed off, wishing that there was something else that he could say to convince Prime.
"Is there anything else you would like to tell me, Nightshade?" Optimus asked, his concerned gaze settling on Nightshade's crossed arms once more. Nightshade shook his head.
"N-no sir."
There was a moment of silence as Prime nodded and leaned back in his chair.
"Very well, Nightshade. I think you should avoid the medical bay for now. Ratchet is very upset with you," Optimus said. Nightshade looked up.
"Is that an official command, sir?"
Optimus gave Nightshade an odd little smile.
"Yes it is, soldier. Noon should be long enough for Ratchet to defuse," Optimus said, motioning Nightshade away. Nightshade stood and gave Optimus a smart salute, waiting until the Commander had returned the gesture. Optimus watched as Nightshade took a step backwards, did an about face, and all but ran out of the room. He shook his head slightly.
Nightshade was an odd one.
Instead of recharging like Prime had suggested, Nightshade went up to the rarely used astrometrics lab. It was stark and empty, waiting for a qualified technician to tune the supplies. Nightshade had done a bit of tinkering with the basic wormhole scanner and he wanted to see if something had turned up. Currently, the large map on the wall was tracking Elita One and her crew. They were three months away. Three full months.
Nightshade wasn't sure he could keep his secret for much longer now that Prime was in on it. He rubbed his chest plates once more before turning to the console beside him. He powered up the scanning log. There was nothing of consequence in this solar system. He read over the scans further out. A small blip appeared on the screen, directly in front of Elita's ship.
He jolted up out of his seat and began typing quickly. Where did this thing end? After a few keystrokes and a brief consultation with the operation manual, Nightshade managed to extrapolate the approximate tail end of the worm hole. If Elita entered it, she would end up on the other side of the Sun, but much, much closer. It would cut a full month and a half off of her journey!
Nightshade squealed like the little femme she was. For the first time in his entire career as a rookie, he had actually discovered something that would help their cause. Nightshade immediately downloaded all of the information and immediately began sprinting. He dodged Red Alert who stared after him suspiciously. Nightshade waved at him before turning down an adjacent corridor. Two flights of stairs and one head on collision later, Nightshade was on the main floor. Optimus's office was only a few dozen meters down the hallway. In his moment of excitement, Nightshade forgot all of the rules regarding when entering a superior officer's room.
Optimus sat up when his door suddenly flew open. Nightshade barreled into the room.
"Sir! Come with me! I have something to show you!" Nightshade blurted out. Prime raised one optic ridge. If Nightshade was ignoring the rules, the news must be good.
"What?" he asked, standing up to humor Nightshade.
"I've found a wormhole that Elita can use! It'll cut her trip in half!" Nightshade babbled eagerly, tugging on his hand. Optimus blinked down at the rookie.
"I didn't know you could use the wormhole scanners," he said.
"Oh, that? I followed Beta around for a few orns on Elita's ship. She taught me basics before I went and worked with Moon Racer. Sir, I need Jazz to fine tune the scans," Nightshade said. Optimus smiled at Nightshade as they walked to the command center.
"Very well. I'll call him down immediately," Optimus said. With that, he patched the transmission through to Jazz. The saboteur had undergone training for using all sorts of scanners, even wormhole scanners. Though he was no expert, he still knew the equipment better than Nightshade did. It was a relatively short trip to the command center, especially with Nightshade all but prancing around Optimus.
Nightshade swept the dust off of the astrometrics console and powered it up. He began typing codes and coordinates into the console. They watched as a map appeared on the screen. There was a small blip near Elita's ship.
"See? See?"
Jazz walked into the command center shortly after Prime and Nightshade did, brightening when he saw the little blue mech tapping away like mad on the keyboard.
"How do you know how to use the console, Nightshade? Hey, a wormhole!"
The news traveled around the base quickly. Nightshade, the complete greenhorn, had discovered a shortcut for the femmes. Many a mech thanked Nightshade for his services, especially Ironhide. Nightshade didn't quite know what they were alluding to, but nodded and pretended to know everything they were commenting on. Ratchet himself had come down from the medical bay to examine Nightshade's scans.
Jazz grinned over at Ratchet, his visor flashing mischievously.
"You know, Nightshade…if you ever decide to ditch The Hatchet, you can always work with me," he said. Ratchet rolled his optics skyward and opened his mouth to reply, but Nightshade beat him to it. Without missing a beat, Nightshade spoke.
"No thank you, Jazz. I've got a femme to impress. I'd rather have fixable dents than to be missing my arms," Nightshade quipped, grinning at the monitor. Jazz snickered. Nightshade wasn't good with hand-to-hand combat.
"Who is it?" Sunstreaker asked, having overheard the mech's comment.
"None of your business, and kindly remove your hand from my shoulder, Sunstreaker," Nightshade said, typing in a few more numbers.
"Ah? Nightshade's got a girlfriend?" Sideswipe cooed, leaning over the monitor. His face was a hand span away from Nightshade's. The small blue mech cringed slightly.
"Not exactly. Now get out of my way."
"Not til you tell me who it is."
"Instead of just standing there, sir, why don't you remove them?" Nightshade asked coolly, glaring up at Ratchet, "And before telling me not to order you around, we're not in the medical bay."
"You still can't tell me what to do, Nightshade," Ratchet said, amused. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe hung around to watch this confrontation play out.
"True, but I did get you high grade this morning. Aren't you going to ask where I got it?"
"…good point. Where did you get that high grade?"
"Trade secret. Now are you going to remove those two hooligans or will I have to do it myself?"
There was a brief pause as Ratchet contemplated his next move.
"Do it yourself."
"Fine."
Nightshade took a moment to straighten out the datapads at his elbow. Then he looked up at the Twins, narrowing his optics up at them.
"I know exactly which locker you've been hiding your high grade in. If you don't want it to be confiscated, you'll get out of my way and keep it like that. Got it?"
The mechs disappeared in twin streaks of color. Ratchet stared after them, his jaw dropped. Not even he had been able to get them out of the medical bay so quickly! He turned back to Nightshade, who was serenely typing away. Nightshade pointedly ignored him.
"Where are they hiding it, Nightshade?" Ratchet asked, hoping to nick a few barrels before they relocated their stash. Nightshade looked up at him, his optics wide and confused looking.
"Hiding what, sir?" Nightshade asked sweetly, folding his hands across the top of the keyboard.
"The high grade. Where is it?"
"What high grade, sir? I don't know what you mean, sir," Nightshade continued, his lip components twitching slightly as he tried not to smile. Ratchet made an exasperated noise.
"You know fully well what I'm talking about, Nightshade. Where is it?"
"Great bluff, wasn't it? The high grade came from my personal stash, and no, I won't give you any. However, if you want to trade hours…we can do business later," Nightshade said, turning back to the keyboard. Well, one little lie couldn't hurt, could it? Ratchet made a strange noise. He managed to sound offended, incredulous, and surprised all at once. He opened his mouth to speak. He knew the codes to Nightshade's room, and if the little fragger wouldn't share, he would confiscate it himself!
"And no, sir, it's not in my room. I'm not that stupid," Nightshade finished, unable to hide his grin. Ratchet glowered at the small mech, cursing his name. Nightshade only continued typing on the keyboard.
"You know, for a rookie you sure know how to drive a hard bargain," Ratchet grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. Nightshade shrugged, hitting the enter key a few times.
"I'm good at what I do," Nightshade said simply, picking up one of Jazz's datapads. Ratchet made a soft humming noise.
"What else are you good at?"
Nightshade pretended that the comment wasn't as suggestive as it sounded.
"I'm a fast learner."
Oh frag, did I really just say that?
Ratchet snorted quietly.
"If you're working for me, you'll have to be a fast learner. You never know when I might spring a practical on you."
The low purr at the end of Ratchet's voice did a combination of things to Nightshade. First, Nightshade had to supress the shiver threatening to run up her spinal relay at the statement. Secondly, Nightshade felt her spark tingle and burn, like it wanted to leap out of her chest. Thirdly, Nightshade felt a strange sensation where her interface port was. She didn't understand what it was but made a note to look it up in the library. Fourthly and finally, Nightshade's vocalizer acted on its own.
"As long as it's not the one you reserve for femmes," Nightshade muttered quietly. Then his optics widened.
I…said that out loud. Dear Primus, please intervene, please do something –
Primus must have been in a good mood that day, for Jazz walked up to the console and peered over Nightshade's shoulder, examining the numbers and logarithms.
Ratchet's jaw dropped at the nerve of the little rookie. Just which video files was he watching during those late night study sessions in the library? Ratchet mentally groaned when he realized that he'd left a box full of very incriminating video files in the very back of the library. How did Nightshade find those? And how on Cybertron did he know that Ratchet was the one recording all of that?! And his comment was way out of line.
"Hey Jazz," Nightshade said, feeling his face plates heat up with embarrassment. He really didn't mean to watch that video, but Nightshade knew next to nothing about interfacing, and he really wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
Ratchet made a note to destroy all other evidence of how he did his 'private study sessions'. He'd slept with a dozen out of hundreds of interns. It was unfortunate that the only eight femmes that had gone through his intern program were among those dozen. Now everyone thought that he was some sort of mech whore.
"Hey kiddo. Make any progress?" Jazz asked cheerfully, "Oh, you might want to reconsider that decimal point. You're maneuvering a class three warship, not a transport vessel."
"Gotcha. Is that better?" Nightshade asked, desperately ignoring the mech behind him.
"It looks fine to me. Keep up the good work," Jazz said. With a quick pat on the shoulder, the mech turned and walked away. There were a few moments of awkward silence.
"Nightshade?"
"Yes, boss?"
"I'm…I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that," Ratchet said, shuddering in disgust. He needed to talk to Mirage. Otherwise, he would have to remove Nightshade from the medical bay.
"Me too."
Later on that night, after Nightshade himself had sent Elita the message and coordinates, he lay in his recharge berth. His feet were propped up against the wall, his back across the berth, and his head dangling over the edge. Nightshade may have looked at peace, but on the inside, the mech was panicking.
The femme hiding in the armor was confused. She was confused as to why she was suddenly attracted to Ratchet. And why did she want to open her chest plates whenever he was within arm's reach? Was that what interfacing really was? But that wasn't what she had seen in the video. They had been using cables. Nightshade groaned quietly, ungracefully maneuvering his body onto the berth. Why did she say what she said today?
Nightshade turned over onto his front, computing center spinning as the energon flowed back into his body. He could do this, he could think these things through without freaking out. Now…
What did she really think about Ratchet? Nightshade thought for a moment. He was very caring, though in his own demented way. He was tall. And the color red suited him more than that atrocious chartreuse he had seen in photographs. Nightshade lifted his head and dropped back onto the berth, exasperated and more confused than ever. Why was she getting all warm and tingly thinking about him? Was this type of reaction normal? Nightshade once again let his head fall back onto the berth with a muffled thump.
Why did she flirt with him?
And most importantly, why did he flirt back?
Elita One smiled as she saw the blue ionized gas seeping out of the wormhole. Nightshade had done very well to find this wormhole. After verifying its tail end, Wheel Jack had commented on it not registering on their ship scanners. He had cross examined the data with Jazz, and found the anomaly to be usable. He had even sent a probe in before them. The result was the same. The wormhole ended just a few weeks away from the planet they were headed for. Elita only shrugged at the news, not wanting to question their good luck any more than necessary. Firestar expertly guided the ship's nose into the break. Gravity took over and sucked the ship into the maelstrom of twisted space and time.
Elita grimaced at the sensation of being stretched out and compressed at the same time, the conflicting gravitational waves wreaking havoc with her molecular structure. Thankfully, the ship took the brunt of the waves and held. Elita and her crew held on for dear life as the turbulence picked up. She was slammed against her seat, stars flashing before her optics. Firestar maintained a steady course, angling the nose of the ship into the oncoming wave. She timed the pulses just right and managed to ride the waves. The shuddering walls of the ship groaned, but held. The ride grew rougher and rougher as the passageway shrank, the tidal forces propelling the ship forwards at an alarming rate. Firestar threw the ship into reverse, hoping to over come the effects, but it was in vain.
Minutes later (though it seemed like eons), they were flung out of the wormhole with a bright flash of light. Firestar somehow kept control of the ship, narrowly missing a nearby asteroid cluster. The ship reeled out of control for breem or two before Firestar regained control of it. She slowed the ship down and cloaked. Then she guided the ship into a nearby gas nebula for cover.
Elita shakily stood up.
This was why she hated wormholes.
Haha, Ratchet's getting Nightshade all hot and bothered...and he doesn't even know it! And the video was from Ratchet's wild days at the academy. He's not always like that.