Disclaimer: Are we seriously going to argue at this hour of the night about whether or not I actually own Transformers? If I did I would be able to update at regular times, and there would be a lot more fanfare. *Drops dead*
A/N: So, yes, late again and very, very tired. I have the best reasons ever, though: cleaning entire house for company (seriously, I had a thing used to get cobwebs off the ceiling, we missed nothing), having company (brand new sister-in-law to be who is getting married to my brother along with a beautiful, bouncy six-month-old), preparing for wedding and doing henna tattoos for friends. Yikes. Awesome, but yikes. Melissa (sissy-to-be) is much fun - I just got off after about three or four hours of working on a practice wedding cake with her- my niece-to-be (adoption is AWESOME!) is adorable, and actually LIKES me, so I've had my hands full, and practicing henna, so I can get people at school to pay me for it. Yeah. Oh, and I'll be doing this art/daycamp thing for a girl my mom tutors all this week and the beginning of next week on top of my OTHER obligations to the growing family.
If the next update is late, please forgive me. And encourage me with reviews ;). As for THIS chapter, I distantly remember being fairly happy with it, so we're just gonna go with that. I shall try my darnest to reply to last chapter's reviews in a timely manner, but I fear that I can make no promises. Enjoy!
Oh, and for all who commented on Barricade: he's the most fascinating sadistic creeper you'll ever meet, and by far one of the most interesting to write.
Chapter 18: Of Medics and Emissaries
"Alright. So in order to make a plan, we have to figure out the 'Con's game."
Lennox was standing on the rough sheet metal table that had been set up in the camp's briefing room. The other leading officers of the human military force that had accompanied the Autobots stood around him, as close as they could get at the moment to eye-level with the transformers. The screen which had displayed Astrid and Ratchet's torture less than an hour before was now blank and dark. Around the table were the assembled forces of Optimus Prime's strike force.
Jolt leaned over to Ironhide, who understood far more human 'slang' than he did."Game?"
"The slaggers' plan."
"Oh."
"The first thing we need to figure out is why they seem to enjoy targeting Astrid," said Lennox.
"Well that's an easy one," Epps said. "She makes an easy target."
"As much as I hate to say it," said Jazz, "he's got a point. Little lady ain't exactly the toughest o' the bunch."
"And she only had one Autobot guardian, as opposed to living on or near the base," Lennox added. "Less of a fight, and it would be easy to overwhelm the guardian and get two hostages instead of one."
"Of all the humans we have established permanent relationships with, Astrid would be one of the easiest to capture," Optimus rumbled. "If they wanted a human hostage, she would have been the most... logical choice. And while Mirage is one of our finest in his area of expertise he is not a melee 'Bot, and could in all likelihood be overwhelmed far easier than say, Ironhide, would be in a similar situation."
"But why did they keep after her so persistently? The assault on the school fits into a plan. But the attack in the woods was much too random," Ironhide argued.
"Bad luck," said Epps. "Really bad luck."
"They were probably combing the woods in search of other students we hadn't found yet," said Lennox. "Astrid and Ratchet were just at the wrong place at the wrong time."
"So they want to trade the two hostages for the shard of the Allspark we're guarding?" Sideswipe said. "They have to know that won't work."
"I agree," said Optimus. "I have no doubt that they would be pleased if we complied, but I can't help thinking that this is not the main purpose of their scheme. Some grander plot is being forged."
"A distraction?" Jazz asked.
"In all probability."
The weapons specialist vented his frustration by leaving a dent on the table."Then what do we do?" Ironhide demanded. "We can't just go along with a diversion if we know something more important is afoot."
"We can," Optimus said. "We must simply keep our eyes open as we do so."
"So that's the game," Lennox said, tapping his nails restively on his sleeve. "Now what's our plan of action?"
"The Decepticons have agreed to our conditions," Optimus said, "the first of which being that Ratchet is enabled to care for Astrid's wounds, which - hopefully - will ensure that they are both functioning when we come for them. The second condition - that the shard be delivered by two emissaries from our faction to two Decepticon emissaries - was also agreed to. Hopefully we can avoid a large scale battle through this exchange, but there was a catch."
"Of course there was," Sunstreaker said. "No Decepticon would risk a fairly matched fight."
"One of our emissaries must be human. And nonmilitary."
"What?" said Epps. "You've gotta be kiddin'. We are not sending one of those kids into a possible firefight. If anything happens the 'Cons'll just get themselves another hostage - or two."
"And what about Astrid?"
The debate came to a screeching halt and all heads - both human and mechanoid - swivelled to stare at the little human standing in the tent's open entrance, cast in a sling around her neck and free hand fisted on her hip.
"What about Astrid?"
"Uh - miss," Epps said, rising and clearly going to shoo her back to the medical section of the camp. "This is a really bad time. How about you head back to your tent now, and later..."
"Astrid is out of laters."
"What is your relationship to Astrid Fenner?" Optimus asked, his processor churning over the facts he already had on the human in question. He remembered a very brief encounter at the Fenner's old place of residence, and he'd been informed that she had been selected as Astrid's roommate, but he was curious. Human relations were so puzzling at times.
"Roommate and best friend... forever... which would mean that you've got yourselves a volunteer."
"Miss..."
"My name is Jenna, thanks."
"Jenna," Lennox said, coming to stand in front of her. "This is very serious stuff you're jumping into. For all we know this might very well be a suicide mission. You should at least hear the facts before you draft yourself."
"Bad guys want something you guys have," Jenna said, waving distractedly towards the Autobots, "and they want a human that's not in the military to help deliver it. Yeah, I think I've got it."
"It could be a trap."
"It's probably a trap," Jenna corrected. Epps gave her a sidelong look, and she answered with a shrug, "Hey, I've played capture the flag as many times as any other college kid. I know something about strategy."
Lennox looked her straight in the eye. "You could be killed."
"Astrid will be if someone doesn't give you guys a hand with this, and from what I've seen most of the other students are all heading for the nearest rock to hide under, so I doubt you'll be getting any of them to walk straight into the lion's mouth. Heck," she held up her cast and grinned, "I'm even wounded. Won't that look nice and pathetic to lure the bad guys into your trap?"
"What?" Epps barked. Was this kid a mind reader as well as an eavesdropper?
"Capture the flag, remember?"
.O.O.O.
True to Soundwave's commands, the Decepticons brought Ratchet's supplies to him shortly after they'd dumped him back in his shared cell with Astrid. The first thing he went for was the water. Instead of the flimsy plastic bottles that humans seemed so fond of, he had chosen to carry a number of metal containers that were far more durable and less likely to crack open or leak in the middle of a battle. He didn't have many of them, though. The liquid-filled canisters were bulky and awkward to carry very many of and still have room for other supplies. He hoped that he would have enough for his present needs. If Astrid died because he'd been too inconvenienced to carry a few extra canteens on his person - well, she wasn't going to die, anyway, so there was no point pursuing that train of thought.
He plucked up the first of the precious five containers and spared some of the contents in his efforts to wake his patient. At first the dribble of water pattering over her face had no effect except to remove some of the blood and sweat masking her skin. Then Astrid came back to consciousness with a wild jerk and Ratchet resumed the cursing he had begun in the control room. Her spiking heart rate was almost frantic enough to be picked up by his audios, and her wheezing breath could probably be heard by the Decepticons on the other side of the door.
"Astrid, it's Ratchet. Calm down," he ordered.
The girl was floundering, eyes wide and mouth agape in such a manner that Ratchet was forced to restrain her to prevent the youngling from damaging herself further.
"C-can't - breathe!"
"One of your ribs was broken. You must lie still or you could puncture a lung, and I do not have the necessary supplies to combat such an injury here."
"Can't breathe!"
"You are inducing a panic attack, Astrid. You can't breathe because you're afraid. But there is nothing to be scared of here, only me. Relax. Then you will be able to breathe properly."
As he spoke he carefully released her and began stroking her as comfortingly as he could without aggravating Barricade's slashes. She was still twitching - almost involuntarily - but her breathing was evening out, though it was still shallow. It was the best he could do. Until he fixed that rib, breathing would be painful for her, and it would be excruciating to even attempt a deeper breath.
"Astrid," he said. There was no response. "Youngling."
"...Yeah, Ratch?" Her words were fuzzy, blurred together. Not a good sign. Relaxing was good, but it would ease his processor if she were sharper and more alert while conscious.
"I need to stop the bleeding."
"Do your worst, Doc. I'm not gonna be putting up much of a fight today."
In another situation he might have thanked her for being one of his - few - willing patients. As it was, he made sure to give her a flick to the head as he checked her over.
Ratchet had never been happier with his decision to start carrying human medical supplies. He was forced to use nearly every roll of gauze he possessed to bind his patient's many gashes. The holes in her arm and leg required serious surgery, but he had nothing near that level of technology with him and the best he could do was stop the profuse bleeding and dress the open holes. He would set her leg later, when she was once again asleep or unconscious: whichever came first. There was no point putting her through more torture at the moment.
She was already starting to nod off as it was, and Ratchet was very grateful. Now that he knew she could wake up and there was no head trauma for him to worry about, he was much less worried about her escaping her pain through recharge. In fact, it was probably better for her to be unconscious. It would delay the inevitable emotional trauma that he was sure she would suffer and at the moment - when a Decepticon could walk in at any instant and resume the 'demonstration' - it was better for her to think of nothing at all.
.O.O.O.
The sun was almost below the horizon when the occupants of the briefing room emerged again. Clouds of mosquitoes were hovering over the heads of the unfortunate humans - a gift from the marshy creeks and spotty woods of central Ohio - and Lennox overheard Epps mumbling about a possible raid of the absent Ratchet's medical supplies on his quest to find some soothing, anti-itch ointments. Lennox had a safer destination in mind.
Nearly every tent and cabin was filled with more college students than they probably should have been. There was always one spot, though, where people could go to hide, no matter where in the world they went. At this particular spot on the globe, the place turned out to be the old cabin the transformers had commandeered to store their more delicate technology and spare weaponry. Of course they couldn't fit inside (some of the machines stored there could barely fit, either), but it was far safer to have the tech out of reach and dry instead of at hand and at risk of a good soaking in the snow.
The pink and yellow colors melting from the sinking sun into the snow were lovely, and a few students were gathered out in small groups watching the show, but Lennox didn't stop to talk with any of them, as he might have in other circumstances. At the moment there was someone who needed his attention far more than the frightened youth trying to find the comfort they once did in a pretty sunset. He'd let them enjoy their moments by themselves. This was probably the first sunset they'd taken the time to watch in months. He remembered what college was like.
When he reached the tech cabin the sun was just reaching its peak of brilliance before it vanished for the night, and as he threw open the door the bright light threw the single room into golden clarity. Except for one dark corner, where Lennox could just make out a hunched silhouette.
"Hey, soldier."
The silhouette did not answer and Lennox stepped inside with a suppressed sigh, shutting the door behind him. The light was cut off instantly, and the whole cabin was choked with an almost blinding darkness. Only a few cracks let in thin blades of gold from outside, and those did little to illuminate the scene. Lennox stumbled his way to the corner where the figure sat, and eased himself down beside him. The floor was dusty, and cobwebs stuck to his hands and face as he made himself comfortable. More than likely he would be there for a while. He set his hands on his knees and shifted a little. How would he feel in a situation like this? What if it was someone from his family? His wife, Sarah? His little Annabelle?
"I can't say if it'll all be ok," Lennox said at length. "But I can tell you that we'll do everything we can to get her back, and I mean all of us."
Next to him, the silhouette shifted - just a little - but it was enough to let Lennox know that he'd been heard.
"The 'Bots will seriously move mountains to get that kid back," he continued, "and you know how we feel about her. She's part of the family, man, we won't let her down."
For a long time they sat like that, and Lennox let the silence just sit between them, soothing and easy. If the captain suspected that the airman was crying, he gave no sign. No one disturbed them in the little cabin as the slivers of gold faded from the floor and the black night settled over the camp.
.O.O.O.
As the sun was rising outside, Astrid was slowly fading inside the Decepticon headquarters. She was still perfectly coherent - ever since she was awoken in the middle of night courtesy of a 'Con banging on the door in an effort to rile Ratchet (he had riled Ratchet, actually). Ever since then she'd been listening to the music of the medic's curses and oaths, punctuated - to her shame - by her own groans and whimpers.
Every time she twitched - it hurt.
Every time she spoke - it hurt.
Every time Rachet forced her to drink - it hurt.
Every time she breathed it hurt.
Everything hurt. All the time.
Before this, she hadn't really known what it was to hurt. Banged elbows, skinned knees, some scar-worthy dog bites and knife wounds from her earlier attempts at cooking. She'd even electrocuted herself with a toaster once. But those had been nothing like this. This was all-consuming pain that she could sometimes think around but could never ignore or forget. Even the extremely mild pain killers that Ratchet had been able to offer her did little more than let her know that she needed much stronger meds... and a lot of them.
A couple hours before dawn, though, things changed. Barricade came into the mech-sized room that was Ratchet and Astrid's cell. If Ratchet had been at optimum fighting levels he would have wrestled the hunter to the ground and ripped his circuitry out before his very optics. As things were it was all he could do to get in one solid hit before Barricade slammed him into the wall and left his processor spinning. When his optics finally stopped fritzing and came back online, it was to see the Decepticon standing there with Astrid in his claws, examining Ratchet's work with disdain.
"Why waste so much effort on a puny organic?" he asked.
Ratchet growled, feeling his systems slowly rebooting, and wished that Soundwave had not snipped quite so many wires. It would take more luck than anything for Barricade to stall himself long enough for Ratchet to gather the necessary energy to stand back up and retrieve his patient. Those claws were making him edgy. He'd seen the damage they could do. He'd treated it.
All things considered, Astrid was doing pretty well. She wasn't screaming or thrashing at all. She was - in fact - maybe doing a little too well... and she was unearthly pale.
"What. Did. You. Do?" Ratchet ground out.
Barricade looked honestly surprised. "Nothing, Autobot. Don't worry, I haven't been authorized to spend any more playtime with your darling little pet. All I did was pick her up."
"In her condition?" Ratched barked. The last necessary system came back online, and he lunged across the room to pluck Astrid from the police car's grip. There was a large red stain spreading over the bandage covering her leg. "You slagging idiot! She's bleeding out. The wound must have reopened..."
"So pathetic. Why do you even bother? The little piece of scrap will probably deactivate anyway. Although, I must confess, that this one did have the most wonderful screams."
"Would you just shut off your vocalizer and leave?"
"I will. But only because I no longer care to stay. Just remember, medic: the moment we have that Allspark shard, your usefulness will be at its end, and Soundwave isn't exactly known for fair play. Even if you somehow manage to save your pet for the moment, it will be my immense pleasure to kill your precious organic slowly - and painfully - as you watch. Maybe I can get a few more screams out of it before it deactivates."
Then he left, and Ratchet rushed to stop the profuse bleeding from the hole Barricade had made in Astrid's leg.
"Astrid? Little one? Slag it. Sparkling? Stay with me, Astrid. Don't you dare die. That's an order. Astrid? Sparkling? Stay, please, they're on their way. They're coming. Sparkling."
.O.O.O.
"So - uh - how long have you known Astrid?" Jenna asked.
"Little more than a year," the car rumbled - Jazz - Jenna reminded herself - the car was called Jazz.
"And you work with her brother, right?"
"Yeah," said the car - Jazz.
Jenna grinned. "I would've paid good money to see his face when he met you guys."
The seat vibrated and a deep chuckle came over the speakers. "It woulda been worth every cent."
"I'm sure."
"What about you? How long have you known the little lady?"
Of all the things she didn't want to think about right now..."Since elementary school." Pranking the other students, pranking the teacher, pranking the principle...bologna sandwiches and Oreos.
"So you must've known her back when she was really short."
"Was? She still is."
Jazz seemed to get a kick out of that and he laughed as they made a sharp turn on the rough back road. For a sports car he did an excellent job navigating over the shattered pavement, potholes and occasional dirt tracks. Jenna barely even felt the jolts in the comfy seat, with the seatbelt wrapped snugly around her.
In her palm was the box that Optimus Prime - the really big one - had given her. She fiddled with it so much that she nearly dropped it a few times when they hit a bump or took a corner a bit too fast. The longer they drove the more she was figuring out that holding onto a slick metal container with only one good arm was actually kinda hard. As they neared their destination, Jenna traced the frowning face on the lid so many times that she was sure she could trace it again on just about anything with fingerpaint. Maybe she would. If she got Astrid (and herself) out of this, then she'd get the stupid little idiot back by painting the frowny face all over Astrid's side of the dorm room... or whatever room - she was pretty sure their section of the dorm had been blasted in the big alien fight a couple nights back.
"It's a real brave thing you're doin'," the car - Jazz! - said. "Two of you much be tight."
"Yeah," Jenna said, toying the box some more, "we're close. But I'm not brave. Exactly the opposite, actually."
"How in the world can you call this not brave?" Jazz said.
"Because one of the biggest reasons I'm doing this is because I can't imagine not having Astrid. Because I'm too afraid to risk finding out what that would be like."
For a minute, there was silence in the car.
"Maybe that's all bravery is, girl."
They pulled off the road and rolled into a broad, tree-less field that must have grown corn or soybean in the warmer months. As Jazz came to a stop, the sunrise waved its first pink tendrils over the horizon.
Jenna shivered nervously and squirmed in her seat. "Let the games begin."
A/N: Alright, good? Please review. Remind my brain that it is for thinking. That would be awesome.
Replies:
HiddenWithinMyself: Thank you! Yeah, suspense keeps you reading, but you will want it to end at the same time... poor prisoners, indeed. Glad you enjoyed, hope you keep reading!
SammyJ: Thanks for the review! I'm sorry, too. Mirage knows. He hasn't been allowed into the briefing room at the time, but he knows. I could never hate Barricade. Loathe him, shrink in terror from him and declaim him to be a creeper, yes, but never hate. He's way too much fun to write. Thank you very much, the longer chapter is STILL coming, although this one was fairly good in length, thanks again for the prayers, and I hope to hear from you again!
Chio: Thank you! I am so glad you like this story that much! It gives me the push the keep going this close to the end. Hope to see more reviews from you in the future!
GodisGod!Iamnot...: Thanks for the review! Oh, wow, I remember my first move-in day. Good luck! I totally understand if you're a bit too busy to read and review to fanfic! . Hope to hear from you eventually, though! God bless!