Chapter Nine: Wheeljack

"What the actual frag, Freeloader?" I hissed, chasing after my escaping prisoner. When it became clear that I had lost him, I stopped running and sat down with a thump.

Bee responded to my comm immediately. /What's up? You guys disappeared on me./

"He got away," I mumbled.

/Sorry, I didn't catch that./

I swallowed my pride. "He got away."

/Oh, for the love of—/ I could hear his ex-vent over the link. /Of course he did. Unlocking his transformation abilities, giving him freedom of movement… We were practically begging him to make a break for it./

"No, really? Just get over here and help me track him down, will you?"

/On my way./

Funny how the pede-shaped indents in the ground hadn't stood out to me until Bee pointed to them.

/Primus, you'd make a terrible scout./

"Shut up."

/Well, I'm no Wrecker, so it's a good thing we're teamed up. Cover each other's weaknesses and all that./

"Sure, whatever. Now, which way did the little punk go?"

/Tracks are headed east. Follow me./

Freeloader had picked a nice place to hide. I had to give him that. We could just barely see a speck of green plating from where we stood up on a ridge.

"Stay up here in case he runs again."

/If he's as smart as he's shown so far, he probably won't./

"You never know. He was dumb enough to try hiding from you."

I headed down the slope to the sheltered area. When Freeloader came into full view, I hesitated.

The minibot was huddled against a wall under the overhang. He hugged his knees to his chestplate, staring straight ahead at the other side of the space. His visor was up, and something in the way his optics were glowing gave me pause about jumping him. Plating rattled with every sharp, heavy intake.

Maybe I should have had Bee come down here instead. Well, it was too late for that now.

I crept over to his hiding place and crouched down next to him. "Hey."

He cringed away from me, visor snapping back down into place. "Come to take me back? Or have you finally run out of patience?" His tone was scornful. "Might as well get it over with, right? But then, you 'Bots have a reputation for drawing these things out."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why would you want—"

"I miss them," he said quietly. "I—I miss Breakdown."

"Oh." I couldn't think of a good answer to that. Of course he missed his Decepticon buddies, whether he should or not. Those backstabbing, infighting scum were all he knew. Ugh. I hate dealing with this scrap. After a long moment of silence, I decided to move on. "You're not going to be offlined. Not by us."

"So what? It doesn't matter if I'm not going to die. I'm not going to go home, either. What's the point?"

And there it was. Home. I'd been stupid—we'd been stupid—to think he could change sides. Little guy didn't have it in him. 'Con loyalty was practically in his base programming by now. And he'd rather offline than keep going.

What a glitched little—

The heat of anger spread through my chassis from somewhere in my fuel tank.

"You want to know what the point is? It's living. You've been out on hundreds of battlefields. Thousands of them. You know the toll this war has taken. You and me and the rest of the 'Bots and 'Cons on Earth? We're just about all that's left. I've traveled the universe for vorns and vorns and vorns, searching for someone—anyone—I know, and the one I found—he died that same cycle. And I know you've lost people too. Everyone's lost someone by now. So tell me this: what makes you so special that you get to choose offlining?"

Freeloader opened his mouth and closed it, a stunned look in his optics.

I shook my helm. "You disgrace everyone already gone when you think that."

"Then what do I do?" he demanded suddenly. I was a little taken aback by the desperation in his voice. "When I've got nothing left in life, what do I live for?"

"You live for them!"

"...what?"

"You live for them," I repeated, softer this time. "Everyone you've lost. Everyone whose death meant that you lived a little longer. Everyone who did something to get you to where you are. It's your job now to... to do the things they won't get to do. To see this war through to the end, to see to it that they haven't fought for nothing. To bring about some kind of justice for them."

"Justice..." he echoed faintly. Something changed in his expression. "Yeah." He suddenly lurched forward and embraced my midesection. "Thanks, 'Jack."

'Jack. Hadn't heard that in a long time. Bulk always called me Jackie, but Breakdown wasn't one for "cutesy" nicknames. Heh. Guess Freeloader had picked up more than the Wrecker MO from him. Maybe there was hope yet.

"All right, all right, that's enough cuddling, or whatever you call this attack on my 'badaft warrior' image." I peeled the minibot off of my chassis and stood up with him. "Look, short stuff… I get the impression you're not really on board with the 'Con cause at this point. And I can understand wanting to stay in the place you first felt like you belonged in, but let me tell you from experience that sometimes that place changes to the point where you don't feel that way about it anymore. When that time comes, you just gotta move on."

He looked away from me. I put a servo on his shoulder.

"Keep thinking about it. Now come on; Bee's waiting for us."

Our scout gave me an odd look when we walked into his line of vision without having reactivated Freeloader's stasis cuffs. I shook my helm at him when he seemed about to say something.

"I think we've had enough of the outdoors for today," I said, nodding at our apparently exhausted prisoner. Freeloader had started leaning against me on the way up the ridge.

/You should probably get his cuffs back to the other setting./ Bee said before activating his comm link. /Hey, Ratchet, ready to bridge us back?/

In answer, the ground bridge opened in front of us. Bee glanced over at me.

/The cuffs?/

"Nah. He's not going to make any trouble."

Something in my tone must have convinced him. He dipped his helm in acknowledgement. /If you say so./

"Enjoy your quiet time, Doc?" I greeted Ratchet as we stepped into the base. He made a harrumph noise and returned to whatever he was doing at the communications array. "Well, okay then. Fair enough."

"Hey, Jackie!" Bulkhead yelled from next to the hall that led to the wash racks.

Freeloader tensed up against me, but I waved back. "'Sup, Bulk!"

/Are you gonna wash up, Bulkhead?/ Bee asked, starting towards him.

"Yeah, you wanna give me a servo with—"

"Bumblebee!" Arcee stepped out of the habitation suite hall. "Good, you're back; you're coming on patrol with me now."

/Oh./ He shuffled over to her side, and they both transformed before speeding out the base's exit.

"Guess we'll join you instead, Bulk." I nudged Freeloader ahead of me toward my friend. "We're pretty dusty ourselves."

Bulkhead hadn't spent a lot of time hanging out with the saboteur yet. It was probably Breakdown's influence that made Freeloader so stiff around him. If the little guy was going to switch sides, he'd need to get over his biases.

"Sounds good!"

My buddy didn't carry reservations anymore. Bulk isn't usually very forgiving, but he's got a huge soft spot for younglings, so it figures that he wouldn't hold Freeloader's alliance against him for long.

I really like the way that the base's wash racks are set up. Bulkhead, Freeloader, and I all fit into the space with plenty of room to move around, and the five shower nozzles are all positioned high enough for even Prime to stand straight and still get the full spray.

Bulkhead turned on two of the nozzles. I motioned Freeloader over to the bench positioned under one of them, then took a sponge and started helping Bulkhead clean out the plating he couldn't reach. With his proportions, there was a lot of it. As I worked, the grit in my winglet joints itched, making me flick the appendages in response to the irritation.

Another sponge pressed against my back suddenly. I turned my head and grinned down at Freeloader, who was standing on the tips of his pedes in an attempt to reach the afflicted joints.

"Thanks for trying, short stuff. It's the thought that counts."

He grimaced in response. "Very funny."

Bulkhead twisted around. "What's going on back there?"

"Freeloader couldn't resist joining the party," I answered and got a wet sponge to the face from the minibot. "Oho! Now it is a party!" I took my own sponge away from Bulk's plating and squeezed it over my small attacker's head. He spluttered a protest.

"All right, you two, break it up!" Bulkhead cuffed me about the helm, but the wide smile on his face betrayed his amusement.

I shared a look with Freeloader. In unison, we threw our sponges at the bigger mech. He caught them and nailed us both in return. Then he dragged the bench Freeloader had been sitting on to a spot behind me.

"Need a boost?"

"Oh!" The minibot looked embarrassed. "Uh… yeah. Sure." He climbed up and started on my winglet joints, pausing for a moment to mutter, "Thanks."

"No problem." Bulkhead got back in front of me and let me continue digging gravel from the gaps in his plating. We all fell silent, letting the patter of the falling water take over as we focused on cleaning one another off.

"You're pretty handy with that sponge, short stuff," I commented after a switch of order that put Bulkhead to work on Freeloader's back plating as I flitted back and forth between them to scrub out their wheel spokes. "Takes most mechs a while to figure out how to reach those joints."

"Your winglets aren't too different from a Seeker's wings," he answered, squirming self-consciously in the blanket of solvent suds Bulkhead had lathered over him. "Just smaller and with different shapes, really. Getting at the joints isn't difficult if you know how to look."

"Spent a lot of time with Starscream, did you?" Bulkhead asked, pushing the minibot's bench until he was under the spray to rinse off his chassis.

"Nah. The Commander doesn't like to associate with us groundpounders. I used to have a secondary assignment to help out Hotlink and Bitstream with whatever they needed when I wasn't on a mission. You know, before most of the Seeker armada were offlined in the space bridge explosion."

Bulkhead ex-vented nervously. "...Yeah. Big explosion, that one."

"Mmhmm."

Silence again. The water noises were almost deafening. Or maybe that was the awkwardness. Either way, this bonding time was starting to veer off course.

I was about to interject some random question to get the conversation going again when Freeloader did it for me.

"Hey, Bulkhead?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you do when you lose someone you care about?"

That was unexpected. I probably should have seen it coming after our talk earlier, but…

Bulkhead's optics widened in surprise. "Depends. I mean—"

"I'm not asking what you should do," Freeloader interrupted, "just what you do do."

He was asking for honesty, not idealism. Well, he'd come to the right place.

"I punch," Bulk said after a long pause. "I punch, and I punch, and I punch. Whatever I can reach. Until the feelings run out and my processor's clear."

"Do you try to get revenge?"

My buddy balked. "Well, I—that's not really—Autobots don't—"

"Oh, come on, Bulkhead, this whole war's full of mechs to avenge. You can't tell me it's not the Autobot thing to do—just look at your two-wheeler. Arcee. She's after both her partners' killers. I can't believe she hasn't managed to offline them yet. And Wheeljack, you came to Earth chasing Dreadwing, right? Would you have come all this way if it wasn't for some kind of revenge?"

I bristled. "He blew up—"

"—Seaspray, right? Aquatic alt? Ex-Wrecker? Habit of whistling before making an attack to unsettle his opponents? Probably didn't do much to help him in open space." Freeloader seemed to realize that he'd crossed a line. "Sorry. I mean, for bringing it up. Too soon and all that." His shoulders drooped. "Breakdown wouldn't like me talking about a Wrecker like that. Even Seaspray." A half-sparked chuckle escaped his vocalizer. "Or 'Barnacle Butt,' like he used to call him."

That piqued Bulk's interest. "Breakdown talks about the Wreckers?" It interested me, too. Bulkhead and Breakdown used a lot of the same nicknames for the Wreckers they weren't as close to. Funny how it stuck with him, even as a 'Con.

Shoulders dropped further, but Freeloader's voice was chipper. "Yeah! He told me so many stories about his time as a Wrecker, you'd think it was all he did in the 'Bots."

"Wasn't a 'Bot long enough to do much else," I muttered.

Two sets of optics, blue and red, glared at me. Figures they'd unite against me for this.

"Sorry. Still a little bitter, I guess."

Bulkhead reached out and switched off both spray nozzles. He avoided looking at either of us as he asked, "Does he… does he ever talk about why he left?"

Something flickered over Freeloader's face, but his answer was in a normal tone. "Yeah, sure. He got left behind after a battle, and a squadron of Vehicons brought him to their makeshift triage facility. Badge scraped away in the fight, see? Between that and his yellow optics, they figured he was a neutral caught in the crossfire. Anyway, the medic they'd brought in saved his spark, and the recovery period after that gave him a chance to see what the 'Cons were really about. I mean, the only difference at the start of the war was how each faction intended to oppose the Senate, right?" His smile reached his optics when he added, "Falling in love was a nice incentive, too."

"Falling in—what?" I couldn't believe my audials. "Wait, with who?"

"Knock Out," Bulkhead interjected. "Right?"

Freeloader grinned wider. "You hadn't noticed? I thought they were pretty obvious about being crazy for each other."

My buddy shrugged. "It was pretty muted on missions, but something seemed up. Makes sense, I guess. Was Knock Out the—"

"The medic who saved him? Yeah. 'Course, it was another couple of vorns before they got together, and I didn't meet Breakdown until a few vorns after that, when I was sent to Knock Out to have my fueling systems streamlined. And they only became Conjunx Endurae a little while before they came to Earth."

Bulkhead was taking this better than I would have expected. Then again, I guess part of being an Amica Endura is being happy about the other's happiness.

Though I really would have expected Breakdown's desertion to dampen that. Bulk sure hit the platonic severance button hard when he left.

Whatever. Time heals old wounds and all that scrap. They're definitely rivals, but from what Bulk's told me, it's still complicated. Makes me wonder if Bulk and I would be the same way if one of us were to change sides.

"—and that's when he decided to give me a combat lesson whenever our paths crossed," Freeloader was saying when I focused back on the conversation. The minibot was contentedly allowing Bulkhead to dry him off with one of the towels kept on a shelf by the door as he talked. "So I haven't known him more than half as long as I've been a 'Con, but he was still my best mentor figure, you know? I could always count on him to have my back when I needed it."

Something clicked.

"Hey, short stuff," I began, taking a towel of my own and starting to pat down Bulkhead's plating, "you're using an awful lot of the past tense. Why's that?"

Red optics cycled repeatedly before he answered, or at least attempted to answer. His vocalizer kept seizing up. "I, um... If I'm going to join you—you 'Bots, then that part of my life—as a 'Con—is—is over. I guess it—it just makes things—makes them easier to—to process? If I think about it that way, I mean." He got quieter as he went on, finally mumbling, "Breakdown would be furious that I even considered it, but…"

"C'mere, you!" Bulkhead swept him up into one of his piston-crushing hugs. "Little buddy, you go where your spark tells you, got it?" He rubbed Freeloader's helm with his knuckles, grinning. "We'll be happy to have you!"

"Yeah," I echoed him, "happy to have you."

The minibot was lying. Not as well as his Special Ops training would have taught him, but there was a lot of stress in his chassis. I could see it in the way his wiring flexed reflexively under his plating and in the way red biolights flickered.

I'm not sure what reason he had to lie, but whatever it was, it was taking up a lot of processor space. The little guy could barely string a sentence together for a moment there. He seemed in control of his expression now, though, so I wasn't likely to catch anything else. Better to just play along and give him some more openings to screw up.

Freeloader seemed to be… Cheered up? Encouraged? Whatever it was, our words seemed to have a positive effect on him. Suspicious as I was, that much struck me as legitimate. Guess I'd have to wait and see.

Once we'd all been dried off, Bulk challenged both of us to a three-way game of lobbing. Ratchet kicked us out of the main room after a few kliks, so we relocated to the garage by the main exit and continued lobbing for another breem before Bee and Arcee got back. Prime returned not long after that. He found the seven of us—me, Bulk, Freeloader, Bee, Arcee, Ratchet, and even Upwash, out of her cell, as was swiftly becoming the norm—gathered around the main room of the base, watching some human entertainment media that Team Prime had apparently been introduced to by their human government contact. They hadn't gotten far in the series yet, despite it more than an Earth lunar cycle having passed since the fleshie got them hooked. Shared free time was far from a common occurence for them, and according to Bulk, Ratchet had made clear what he would do to anyone caught watching ahead without the rest of the team. Between that and the rotating patrols and missions, they were only through the third episode as of tonight.

Humans in space cracked me up. Everyone else seemed to be taking it pretty seriously in spite of the ridiculous concepts the fleshies have of space travel.

The banter was pretty good, though. I was enjoying the action sequences and the jokes. A lot of the more organic concepts were flying over my helm, but from the looks on Ratchet's and Bee's faces, I geussed that I was better off not knowing.

Freeloader leaned in from his perch behind me to whisper in my audial. "What the frag is going on between the two fleshies there? I'm completely lost."

I shrugged. Upwash scooted over to answer him. Unfortunately, I was still within hearing range.

"Oh, that's just—" I began. Freeloader interrupted with his two shanix's worth.

"Nasty! Who would want—"

"—the most disgusting thing—" I continued. The minibot added on.

"—to watch it, let alone—"

"—organics are so—"

"Gross!" we finished together.

Bumblebee beedle-beeped his most snicker-y snicker at the two of us.

Freeloader made a face at him. "Shut up, scout. How can you stand being around those—those—" He frantically motioned, attempting to explain what he couldn't find words to describe about just how repulsive the fleshies now seemed.

/We're just as weird to them as they are to us,/ Bee pointed out, unfazed.

Arcee walked by our little cluster on her way to brief Prime on the episode's events so far and smacked each of us upside the helm.

"Will you four be quiet?" she hissed. "Some of us are trying to hear what's going on."

"Sorry."

"What 'Jack said."

"Ditto."

/Sorry, Arcee!/

She huffed through her vents and continued toward Prime, who had made the generous decision of allowing his team to start the episode before his arrival. The rest of us hunkered down when they returned to the group, unwilling to face Arcee's wrath, until the end of the episode.

"'S pretty late," Bulkhead noted, stretching his joints as he stood up. "Who's got monitor duty tonight?"

Ratchet raised a servo.

Upwash groaned. "You always take monitor duty, Doc. When was the last time you got a proper recharge?"

He narrowed his optics at her. She rolled her optics at him. Now there was a match made in the Well… or, more likely, the Pit.

"Upwash," he asserted, "I am the only one here not on active duty in the past week. Everyone is more tired than I am."

"Not me." Everyone stopped moving and stared at the 'Con scout. Upwash shrugged. "I've been on base all day too, and I recharge pretty much whenever I'm in my cell. I've got energy to spare."

"You're a Decepticon!" Ratchet spluttered. "By the Allspark, do you honestly think we would trust you for a moment, let alone a full shift?"

Delicate flier pedes tapped out a nervous rhythm on the concrete floor. "About that," Upwash mumbled. "I, er… I was considering…"

"Upwash?"

"Look, Ratchet, it's hard enough to get the words out on my own! Will you shut up for a klik and listen?" Vents rattled in a deep intake followed by a slow ex-vent. "Okay. I'm pretty sure it's clear by now, if unofficial, that I'm not going anywhere. Here's the thing: I like it here. I like being a part of this team. I like all of you—yeah, Arcee, even you—and I like helping you. And I've been useful. I know I have. But I could be more useful. I could scout new energon locations for when the old information is out of date. I could provide aerial support. I could fight if needed. Do you... Primus, I feel like an idiot for even asking, but do you see where I'm going with this?"

Ratchet wasn't capable of responding with his vocalizer making staticky little fzzt sounds instead of words. It was Prime who answered.

"I do," he rumbled. "You wish to become an Autobot."

I couldn't help grinning down at the nervously shaking minibot by my side. "Looks like she beat you to it, short stuff."

He made a rude gesture at me—ooh, the Ratchet Special, he'd been paying attention—and stepped up to join Upwash in front of Prime. His voice came out as a squeak, and the way his vocalizer kept skipping to a higher pitch made every statement sound like a question.

"Op—Optimus, sir? Prime? I want to join, too?"

I could hear Bulkhead quietly awwing behind me. I was busy trying to sift through the saboteur's behavior in my attempt to figure out what was an act and what was real. I never was much of a detective, but this mystery called to me.

Speaking of adorable, though, Prime's smile was ridiculously cute. For an imposing, charismatic leader of an army, Optimus Prime had a habit of making his subordinates weak at the knee joints with his aura of sweetness. No exaggeration necessary. Springer once told me that the Prime smile made him fall off the stage during his own Autobrand ceremony. It really happens.

"It is late in the day to handle the rites now," he said to the two 'Cons, "but I am pleased that you have both come to this decision." He paused before continuing. "Upwash. You have already proved your willingness to cooperate, and you have given little reason to doubt your word. I appreciate and accept your offer to handle monitor duty tonight while Ratchet rests." Ratchet grumbled something, but Prime was undeterred. "That's an order, old friend. Get a full night of recharge, or you won't be allowed back on duty tomorrow. Upwash, I trust you've seen enough to know how the monitors work?"

"Yes, sir!" She gave a snappy little salute, beaming.

"Good. Welcome to probationary Autobot status. You are excused."

As the flier skipped off to observe the monitors and Ratchet—followed by Arcee, who apparently had no interest in seeing how the other half of the discussion turned out—trudged down the habitation hall, Prime's attention turned to the minibot.

"Freeloader. You have not been with us as long as Upwash has, and your behavior over that short time has not been indicative of changing alliances. In most instances, it has been the opposite. It will take time to prove that you are sincere in your intentions."

"So what can I do?"

His anxious tone seemed to draw Prime's sympathy. That's not hard to do, considering the Autobot leader's soft spark.

"We can discuss it tomorrow. For now…" He turned to me. "Wheeljack, I am placing Freeloader in your servos. He may recharge in the bunker you've been assigned, if it's all right with you."

I nodded. "Sure, Prime."

"Good night, Autobots. Recharge well." Prime left without another word.

The rest of us followed suit. Bumblebee stopped to pat Freeloader's shoulder on his way to his own bunker.

/You're going to do great./

The minibot looked embarrassed. "Thanks."

I led Freeloader to the last bunker in the hall. "Here we go. I'll admit, I haven't really been recharging here. The Jackhammer's got more of a 'home' feel to it, but I guess I can get used to this as long as Prime says you need a handler."

"Gee, thanks." The sarcasm was strong in this one. He'd fit in just fine if joining the team really was what he wanted out of this.

I cracked a smile in spite of my trepidation. "You're welcome. Okay, short stuff, you take the berth on the far side. I'll take the near."

"Yessir." He climbed onto the berth I had indicated for him without protest and curled into a minibot ball. "Good night, 'Jack." The disappearance of the red glow on the wall indicated that his optics had gone offline.

"'Night." I lay back on the other berth—which just so happened to be between his and the door—and offlined my own optics.

Now wasn't the time for recharge, whatever our idealistic Prime thought. I kept still and listened for sounds of movement. If Freeloader was going to get up to something tonight, I'd know.

Almost a whole breem passed before I heard anything, but hear it I did.

Time to solve the mystery.