Ch. 8 – Aftermath
Wheeljack was waiting for Prowl and the younglings in his lab, with a space clear for repairs and optics full of concern. Since the twins were mostly undamaged, apart from a residual buzzing in their audios from the stunner, Prowl had them move off to the side where they could be out of the way. Sideswipe plopped to the floor, back against the wall, and just let his head fall to his knees, closing himself up in a shell. Sunstreaker, on the other hand, was pacing in a tight circle like an angry, aggressive animal ready to attack. Rather than stopping to analyze the behaviors and what it might mean for their current mental states, as he might have done in other circumstances, Prowl guided Bluestreak to the waiting Wheeljack.
"Alright Prowl, just set him down here on the bench," the engineer instructed. "…Thanks. 'Kay Blue, I'm just going to take a look at these hinges of yours and we'll get you fixed right up….alright, this is going to sound like a stupid question, but how are you doing?"
Bluestreak didn't respond. He didn't even look at the engineer. He just kept staring blankly into space, optics dull, holding onto Prowls hand in a loose grip and leaning into his Caretaker.
"He stopped responding to stimuli a short while ago," Prowl explained. "He has probably gone into shock now that the immediate danger is over."
"Shoulda figured that'd've happened," Wheeljack muttered as he worked. "Primus. He's been doing so well, and now THIS happens."
Wheeljack looked up from Bluestreaks back to meet Prowls optics. "Don't worry Prowl; soon as they're done patching up that 'Con enough so he doesn't deactivate on us, I'm going to take a look at whatever upgrade he's got that's letting him walk through our walls. Soon as I reverse engineer that, I can design a shielding or disruptor or something to counter it. This WON'T happen again."
"I trust your skills to do so, Wheeljack, but one Decepticon is not the issue," Prowl answered. "The base is not impervious, and even if we adjust our defenses in response to this intrusion, they will find a way in again sooner or later. Even if we fortify our defenses, that won't change the fact that the main Autobot base will always be the ultimate target."
"So what are you suggesting then?"
"After this, no one can deny that it's too dangerous for Bluestreak, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to stay here much longer. However we do it, we need to send them away as soon as possible
"NO!"
Wheeljack dropped his pliers and scuttled back a step in pure shock. Even Prowl started slightly at the unexpectedly loud interruption.
Said interruption had come out of his stupor at some point in the conversation, and was now looking up at him with an expression mixed with hurt and spark-filled desperation.
"Please, don't send me away!" Bluestreak pleaded. "I'm sorry I was bad in the medbay, I'm sorry I yelled at you, I'm sorry I threw my datapad at you, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I'll be good from now on, I promise. I won't bug you, I won't ask for anything, I'll do anything you say, just please, please don't send me away!"
Bluestreak gripped Prowls hand with both of his and pulled his legs up onto the table so that he was literally begging on his knees.
When Prowl didn't answer, Bluestreak let him forehead fall to Prowls arm. The tactician could feel the slight buzz in the contact from the youngling's tremors.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Bluestreak kept saying in an almost whisper, again and again like a mantra.
Wheeljack stood where he was, literally stunned speechless. If he hadn't been wearing his blast mask, his jaw would have been hanging to the floor. Prowl was in a similar state, staring down at the child in mute surprise with absolutely no idea how to respond to this sudden torrential emotional onslaught. Bluestreak didn't raise his head, and his apologies had died down to a sniffling.
"Say something stupid!"
Both adults turned their heads to Sunstreaker, standing there a little ways away, shoulders up and hands bunched in a defiant pose, focused totally on Prowl and looking sincerely ready for a fight if the Praxian said the wrong word.
"…Well?!" Sunstreaker demanded.
Prowl turned his attention back to Bluestreak.
"If you're afraid of going outside, you don't have to be. We'll find someplace safe for you to go, Bluestreak, and we'll protect you until you get there," he promised. "You don't need to be afraid anymore."
Bluestreak stopped talking.
In that instant, Prowl knew he had said the absolutely wrong thing. But he had no idea what was wrong about it.
Knock knock knock on the door frame.
"Excuse me."
Lockout was standing in the open door way. Prowl stiffened in the officers presence, an automatic reaction of his that came just shy of standing at attention.
"I apologize for interrupting," Lockout said, coming a few steps into the room. "But I was passing by, and I decided to see if I could steal Prowl away for a short while. We're going to need someone familiar with the security systems to make sure Phase Out didn't sabotage or plant anything while he was running around the base, and for obvious reasons getting it done sooner would be better than later."
"I understand," Prowl said. He looked back down at the youngling still attached to his arm with a death grip.
"I'm sorry Bluestreak, we will have to continue this another time," Prowl said, easing his arm out of the younglings grip. Bluestreak let his hands fall and instead used his arms to hold himself, his wings dropping and not raising his head, looking so…small. Small, and sad.
Prowl hesitated. He almost wanted to tell Lockout he couldn't leave just yet, not until he resolved this…he couldn't even classify what was happening. But his sense of duty wouldn't let him stay, and he reasoned that by the time he got back hopefully he would know what it was that Bluestreak needed to hear from him, other than false promises Prowl refused to give him. Decision made and plan in hand, Prowl nodded once to Wheeljack (who looked like he wanted to say something but bit his glossa instead) before leaving.
"Coward!"
Wheeljack grabbed Sunstreaker and held him back from running after Prowl, but the 12 vorn fought in the grip and looked fully ready and able to literally attack Prowl in righteous anger.
"Don't you dare run away you two-bit turbo rat coward!" Sunstreaker yelled after him. "You're the fragging adult here! You don't get to run away just because you don't wanna do something! Don't you dare leave before Bluestreak says you can!"
What? Prowl wasn't running away, he had a job he needed to do, how could Sunstreaker accuse him of running away?
And why couldn't those words make it past the blockage that created that choking sensation, curling up and dying before they could be voiced? Why couldn't he say the words produced by his logic computer to defend his actions against this child?
Prowl was saved from answering from the most unlikely source.
"That's enough!" Lockout barked sharply.
The sharp order was enough distraction for Lockout to place himself directly in front of the gold mechling.
"You're disruptive behavior isn't helping anyone, least of all Bluestreak." The 2iC told him frankly. "You're just making this unnecessarily hard for him."
Sunstreaker ceased his struggles, but Wheeljack wasn't letting go yet and the youngling was glowering up at Lockout.
"I know you're trying to help Bluestreak right now, but this isn't the way to do it," Lockout went on, a little more gently but still firm, like steel wrapped in velvet. "I need Prowl to keep doing his job so he can keep everyone safe. While he's doing that, I need you do to do your job to help Sideswipe and Bluestreak and make sure they're alright."
Sunstreaker's expression hadn't softened, but now he was more cautiously curious at what Lockout was going on about. Wheeljack deemed him calm enough to risk letting go of his shoulders.
"Right now, you're the one I'm depending on," Lockout went on seriously. "Sideswipe is still shell shocked, and Bluestreak is on the verge of an emotional breakdown. They're going to look to you to be strong, to make them feel safe. You need to be the big brother to them both now. If you can't do that, then you're no help to anyone. Do you understand?"
Sunstreaker straightened slightly, subtly but definitely going from ready-to-fight to ready-to-serve.
"Yeah," Sunstreaker said.
He quickly scowled and added, "But Prowl isn't off the hook either. He'd better come back with something better than a stupid brush off he just tried on Bluestreak just now."
Lockout nodded with a slight smile of approval. "I'll make sure he gets back, Sunstreaker."
Prowl watched the officer handle the angry youngling with lips slightly parted in the closest he'd ever come to slack jawed disbelief. Even Wheeljack's optics were far wider than they strictly should have been able to go. Both of them were quietly wondering when and how they'd be able to ask how Lockout learned to handle angry younglings so deftly.
Lockout stepped away and led Prowl out into the hall, letting the door slide shut behind them.
"So, mind telling me what Sunstreaker meant by 'brush off', Prowl?" Lockout asked with a sidelong look. Prowl frowned and shook his head.
"I'm not certain how he got that impression," he answered honestly. "I was only trying to reassure Bluestreak that we would be sending him someplace safe in the light of recent events. It's the only logical course of action at this point, and I can only assume the reason Sunstreaker took offense was because he lacks the experience to see the logic of it."
"Hm," Lockout answered neutrally. "Not that it really matters; the younglings aren't going anywhere."
Prowl grabbed Lockouts shoulder. It wasn't enough to prompt the busy mechs to stop, but it did grab his attention enough to give it all the black and white mech.
"You can't possibly be serious!" Prowl exclaimed. "When Bluestreak first came, you were the most vehement about him being anywhere else but here. He was allowed to remain because the base was considered safe, if not perfectly ideal. Not that we have proof that even our defenses won't be enough, the only logical course of action would be to move Bluestreak and the others to a location that won't be targeted by Megatron. What made you change your mind?"
"I haven't changed my mind at all," Lockout said sharply. "I simply haven't forgotten the facts. Prowl, you've been staring at the maps and movement charts for deca-orns now, what can you tell me about the Decepticons current movements?"
Prowl, ever the professional, gave a rapid fire answer without even missing a beat over the seeming random and drastic change in direction. "Currently all Decepticon army movements can be best described as erratic but fluid; the battle lines are changing almost literally by the joor. That's partly what's keeping the Contingent pinned down for so long, since they can't be sure where Shockwave's forces are going to be and for how long. So far, I haven't been able to deduce the exact purpose behind the rapid movement, if there is any beyond simply keeping our own forces unbalanced. It's also the reason why Sidestep had to take the Special ops to extract one of our teams who found themselves trapped in hostile territory simply because they stayed still for too long."
A dangerous mission Prowl had helped plan, and the reason Jazz had to leave the base so quickly after his brief meeting with Lockout.
"You wanted to know why we can't send the younglings away?" Lockout went on with a hard look. "That's your answer right there; even if we were desperate enough to move them to just dump them in any neutral city we can find and hope for the best – and even I'm not that desperate yet – we have no way of getting them there safely. We can't predict the Decepticons movements with enough accuracy to plan a travel route that won't take them dangerously close to hostile territory. Whatever window of opportunity we had before, it's long gone now."
"In other words, the dangers of trying to transport them now outweigh the dangers of keeping there here." Prowl summed up. "In that case, I would like to be there for the Decepticons interrogation – he could provide information on these movements. How soon will it be until he's ready for questioning?"
"There isn't going to be an interrogation," Lockout said flatly. "Phase Out's dead."
Prowl almost skipped a step in his stride.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Phase Out's wounds were severe, and on the scene Ratchet had to choose between him and Red Alert," Lockout explained. "Socket couldn't keep him on line on his own; Phase Out was dead almost before they even got him to the med bay."
The Decepticons twitching, flailing body as his back melted under the half dozen acid pellets flashed through Prowls mind. His battle computer had targeted just one or two target points needed to stop him, but for the first time in as long as he could remember Prowl had ignored the data in favor of something more…brutal. Even then he hadn't been purposely aiming for vital areas for an instant kill…not consciously, exactly.
Was it because he had enough sense left to remember a live prisoner was worth more than a deactivated one? Or was it because he viciously hadn't wanted Phase Out to die so quickly, because he didn't deserve it? Had Prowl allowed his emotions, his fury, to taint his judgment and cost them a long-term asset for the sake of immediate visceral satisfaction?
The realization of the extent of his loss of control overwhelmed Prowl with a sickening feeling.
"Then all I can do is apologize for my actions, Lockout," Prowl said. "I used excessive force and cost us a potentially valuable source of tactical information."
Prowl had taken another three steps before it dawned on him that Lockout had stopped dead in his tracks.
"Is something wrong, sir?" Prowl asked.
"Don't say that."
The SiC had spoken so quietly, yet so firmly, that the words resembled the first tremors that preceded a catastrophe.
Prowl turned all the way around to face the other mech. What was Lockout saying? That Phase Outs death wasn't his fault? That was illogical to say, and didn't match with Lockouts nonverbal cues. He needed clarification.
"What do you mean?" Prowl asked.
Lockout raised his head up, and Prowl actually took a half step back when he saw the bright, pale, burning optics. Lockout…he wasn't just upset. He was almost trembling in absolute fury.
"Don't you EVER say that!" Lockout snarled. Quick as lighting Lockout closed the distance and grabbed Prowl by the collar strut and pulled the startled tactician in up close and personal until their olfactory sensors were mere inches apart.
"I don't give a fiery frag about prisoners and hostages," Lockout growled low and dangerous. "Phase Out was going to kill Bluestreak because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two other younglings might still lose the only family they have left because of him. What you did, you did it to save their lives. So don't you DARE apologize for it!"
Lockout roughly pushed Prowl away from him, as if disgusted by his presence.
"I have work to do, and so do you," Lockout said in clear dismissal.
That was when Prowl realized that they had ended up in front of the Security Hub without his realizing it. Lockout brushed past him roughly and continued down the hall, his stride fast and harsh. So stunned was Prowl by what had just happened, it took an extra klick or two for him to respond properly.
"Lockout!"
The mech in questioned stopped, but didn't bother turning around.
"I was apologizing because I could have stopped Phase Out without necessarily killing him," Prowl told Lockout back. "I only regret my loss of control, of letting pure emotion guide my actions. I regret that, and that alone, because my rash actions could have also gotten Bluestreak hurt."
A crouching, trembling, crying, terrified Bluestreak floated up in his mind.
"But," Prowl went one more lowly, almost to himself, "while I regret the act of killing him, I cannot regret that he died."
Lockout paused for a moment longer before continuing on, not even sparing Prowl a backwards glance.
Not knowing what else to do, Prowl entered the code and let himself into the Security Hub – the sooner he checked the cameras for everything Phase Out did and could have possibly done, the better.
He also had a lot of thinking to do in the mean time.
oOoOoOo
Up until now, Sideswipe has sincerely believed that the orn his Creators died would be the absolute worst thing he could ever experience.
Less than a joor ago he was proven wrong.
Horribly, horribly wrong.
Vorns later, Sideswipe would honestly say that he couldn't remember much of anything that happened between leaving the Security Hub where Re- leaving the Hub, and getting to Wheeljacks lab. The next clear thing he remembered was sitting against the wall, between a work bench and a storage bin while the grownups talked about stuff from so far away their voices sounded distant and fuzzy to his own audios, never mind they were all in the same room. Even Sunstreakers voice, angry and harsh, seemed dim and fuzzy. It felt like he was living in thick, heavy oil and that his audio's had malfunctioned into static. He heard voices, but everything sounded far away, muffled, indistinct.
Except for the noises coming from inside his own head.
Phase Out had tossed him on his back, so the paralyzed Sideswipe could only look up at the ceiling. He couldn't see anything, but he could still hear everything. Primus help him, he heard everything, and it still wouldn't stop ringing in his audios. The screaming, Phase Out was still mocking, the running, hunting him down, before the gun went off as loud as a cannon and Red Alert…Red Alert…
Sideswipes vision blurred, and he buried his face in his knees and covered his head with his arms. But no matter how tightly he held, the noises didn't go away. If anything, they got even louder. Sideswipe tried off-lining his optics and squeezing the filters as tightly shut as they could go, but that only summoned up the last thing he saw of his older brother, half standing before he was blasted backwards out of the chair with a bright line and the smell of burning wires and spilt energon from the ragged hole in his chest.
The mechling found a way to curl up into an even tighter ball. But he couldn't close up enough to keep the painful memories out.
His Creators were dead, he and his brother almost died, Red Alert might still die…Sideswipe felt like he was standing on brittle rust bridge that was crumbling to pieces over the giant canyon.
"Um, Sideswipe?"
At his name, the red youngling raised his head.
Bluestreak was standing in front of him, wings twitching occasionally, holding his hands over his chest, looking down and to the side, and overall looking like a frightened turbo-mouse.
"Can I, um, can I…sit with you…please?" he asked, so quietly Sideswipe almost couldn't hear him.
Sideswipe stared at him.
The screaming for help…that had been Bluestreak. It was the first time anyone had heard the little survivor say anything. Phase Out had been hunting him, was going to kill him…because…
(Bluestreak shuffled back and forth on his pedes as his wings twitched faster.)
…Sideswipe had no idea why Phase Out thought Bluestreak had to die. He was just little, and he almost died. Sideswipe was looking at him, right here, and right now, but it was sinking in that he came very close to NOT being here…
(Bluestreaks wings lowered and he almost seemed to shrink in on himself, his hands trembling with hurt as he took a step back.)
…and thinking of Bluestreak being not here anymore, made Sideswipe think of how terrified of Sunstreaker he had been at first, only to warm up and treat his admittedly scary brother like a normal person, how he had played with them and made them feel like there were home and safe and that they were going to be okay here. It made him think of his shyness that hid a playful, almost devious side, the innocent face that belied his snarky observations that no one else got to see…
(Bluestreaks optics darted around, looking lost and confused and increasingly anxious, so tense he looked about ready to crack open and fall apart right then and there.)
…and in less than an orn, the thought of him not being here anymore frightened him almost as badly as the thought of losing Sunstreaker.
(Bluestreak took another step away and one servo darted up to snatch a little roll of copper wire from the work bench.)
Sideswipe nearly fell over himself as he lunged forward to grab Bluestreak by the wrist before he could take one step too far. Bluestreak froze, optics wide open like a petro rabbit that caught sight of a turbofox.
"I didn't say no."
It took an extra moment for Bluestreak to understand that he wasn't in trouble. He slowly relaxed, and even smiled a little. Tentatively, he stepped closer again and sat next to the red twin. Sideswipe wrapped an arm around the younger Praxian to pull him close, and Bluestreak in turn curled up and relaxed against him, full of trust in the security Sideswipe provided.
Sunstreaker came over, tired of arguing with Wheeljack ("He doesn't have to talk to you if he doesn't want, so drop it already!") and stood on the other side of Sideswipe, leaning against the wall but as vigilant as a sentinel. They didn't touch, but they didn't need to. Exhausted by the events of the orn, Bluestreak fell into a fitful doze against Sideswipe. Sideswipe held him, supporting him so he didn't fall over.
They were here, alive, right now, but they came so close to not being here. Bluestreak came so very, very close to…to not being here. Sideswipe honestly didn't think he'd be able to handle this again.
'No. Not again. I won't let this happen EVER again.'
He would not allow anyone, or anything, to take away someone important to him. He would rather die than go through this again. Whatever it took, he was going to be strong enough to protect Sunstreaker, to watch his back, and between the two of them, they'd be able to protect the little Bluestreak as well, and if…no, WHEN Red Alert got better, they'd protect him too.
Unbeknownst to him, Sunstreaker was watching his brother protectively hold Bluestreak and made the exact same vow.
In the center of the gathered younglings, held tight and protected by the fitfully dozing Bluestreak, was the roll of wire held close to his chest, as protected and hidden as an oyster protects it's pearl.
oOoOoOo
Combing through Teletraans systems took longer than anticipated. Prowls initial technique was to draw out Phase Out complete path using the compiled video's the security cameras took of him, then focusing on any terminals that the Decepticon could have conceivably tampered with along the way. Everything checked out clear – Phase Out had apparently been more interested in simply getting to the Hub than creating wanton chaos along the way – but to be sure Prowl went ahead and remotely checked the rest of the terminals and ran every system check available for planted virus's or recent unauthorized activities. He even checked for authorized activity from officers in the time slot, in case Phase Out had been a smarter hacker than they thought.
Red Alert wouldn't have settled for anything less.
For future reference, Prowl saved all the recordings of Phase Out in a special folder. Part of that meant he had to watch every single one of them, from first to last…and what happened in the Hub before he got there.
That was the only video he couldn't bring himself to finish.
With Phase Out dead, they would probably never find out what his original mission had been. But it would seem that the…distraction caused by the younglings had prevented Phase Out from completing his mission.
Prowl had the irrational but intense thought that he might have preferred Phase Outs success to the trauma Bluestreak had been forced to endure.
That thought was quickly shoved aside before he had a chance to follow it too far. His work in the Hub was done anyway, so he logged out and left, making sure to lock the door as per protocol. So, the good news was that Prowl had finished his assignment to his satisfaction and then some, and was now free to see to Bluestreak himself and allieviate his lingering worries.
The bad news was he still didn't know how to go about doing it.
It didn't help that everyone else already seemed to know exactly what he was supposed to do – or at least recognized everything he was doing wrong so far – and kept getting mad at him for not getting it.
Prowl rubbed his chin as he walked down the halls towards Wheeljack's lab, his pace slowed by his thoughts.
Alright, so Bluestreak wanted to stay here, at the base, even after being targeted, attacked, and nearly killed. Granted, Bluestreak had not been the main target, rather an incidental one that Phase Out figured would buy his bonus points with Megatron, but that hardly mattered. If Bluestreak had been aware enough before to understand Prowl saying the younglings had to be evacuated to a different location, then he would have also been able to comprehend Prowl's explanation about the Autobot Headquarters always being a target, no matter how excellent the defenses were, and it would be attacked again.
Following on that, if you knew you were in a dangerous area, but were given the option to move to a safer area, the only logical course of action was to make that move as soon as you could. True, circumstances have trapped the younglings here for the time being as Lockout said, but Bluestreak didn't know that yet.
Then again, what with most if not all of Bluestreaks memories from before the fall of Praxus having been suppressed, the inside of the base was literally all he knew. The last memories he had of the outside world was the cities remains, wandering around completely alone for orns before he was found.
A flash of memory from when Prowl first found him, and how he had cautiously checked the skies before he ventured out of his little shelter.
Prowl couldn't say he blamed Bluestreak for not ever wanting to go back to that. Breach or not, the base remained the only safe haven he could remember. No wonder he was so scared to leave.
That reminded Prowl of how Bluestreak had apologized so desperately and promised to be good from now on, just before Lockout had pulled him away. Perhaps he thought he was being sent away as a punishment for his behavior that morning.
(Huh. It already felt like such a long time ago, but Prowl made a mental note to speak to...someone…about that wildly uncharacteristic behavior)
Mental notes aside, it didn't explain why Bluestreak would make such a leap of logic and completely skip over Phase Out as part of the equation. Perhaps what Prowl needed to do was explain to Bluestreak tactfully but frankly how his behavior had nothing to do with his earlier proposal to send him and the twins away, but entirely to do with protecting him. Bluestreak was a smart mechling; he would be able to understand the logic of it once he had time to think about it.
'And you gotta understand, Prowl, not everyone speaks logic as fluent as you do,'
Prowl slowed slightly as the memory bubbled up.
That's right. That had been one of Jazz's first bits of advice. Perhaps he should wait a little bit then, after Bluestreak had calmed down and wasn't so emotional. It would be easier for him to listen to the facts as Prowl presents them
'Maybe you're only tryin' t' state the facts like ya usually do, but to Bluestreak, it's gonna sound like you don't want him around, maybe that you resent having t' take care of him.'
Prowl stopped dead in his tracks.
'Trust me, Prowl; for a youngling, knowing you're unwanted is the single worst feeling in the world.'
Feeling that you're unwanted…believing you must be unwanted…
"Does Bluestreak…really believe that?" Prowl asked aloud in growing horror.
He felt like he had just been kicked by a combiner straight through a wall.
Primus, how could he have been so STUPID? Bluestreak hadn't been begging Prowl not to make him leave the base, he had been pleading with Prowl to not reject him. The gross oversight and what his blasé response might have been like for him to hear…it hit Prowl with such a powerful wave he honestly started to feel slightly nauseous for it.
No wonder Sunstreaker and Lockout had gotten so mad at him. Prowl was a little surprised that Lockout hadn't simply punched him. He certainly deserved it.
"Hey kid, wake up, you're blocking the hall."
Prowl snapped back to the present, and to the grizzled green and white face looking straight into his optics with a mix of mild annoyance and faint concern.
"You were just standing there all zoned out like a drone without the programming," Kup told him frankly. "You want me to get Ratchet to check if any of your wires been knocked loose?"
"No, that won't be necessary. I'm fine Kup, thank you for your concern. If you'll please excuse me."
Prowl separated himself from the older mech and continued down the hall at a noticeably faster pace. But he halted at an intersection, and considered for a split moment before he turned down the other hall. He needed to make a brief detour first.
oOoOoOo
He was hiding in a small dark place because something terrible and scary was out there looking for him, coming closer and closer while it hunted. He couldn't see or hear anything, but he knew the scary thing, the monster, was coming for him, so he had to stay small and quiet and hope it would pass him by.
He wasn't hiding alone; someone was in the small dark place with him, holding him close in a warm embrace and making whispered promises of safety and protection that he believed with his entire spark. The monster was still coming, but it wouldn't find him here because the arms would hide him and chase away all the bad things.
Except they didn't.
The monster came and ripped him from the arms even as he screamed and the arms tried to hold on and pull him back, only to slip away into the darkness.
He was thrown up high and had just enough time to see the monsters flashing yellow visor before it swallowed him up whole.
Bluestreak flinched awake with a gasp.
"Hey, you alright?"
Bluestreak craned his neck to look up at a concerned Sideswipe. Somehow, he had twisted around so that he had turned inward and was practically sleeping in Sideswipes lap. Just beyond his head Bluestreak could see Sunstreaker standing behind him, leaning against the wall and making a poor attempt of looking entirely disinterested.
Bluestreak nodded.
"Yeah," he said quietly. His fuel pump was still thundering in his chassis and his tanks felt twisted and weak, but he was well used to waking up from nightmares.
Well, almost used to it.
"…hasn't said a word to me at all. Sunstreaker won't let me anywhere near him anyway."
Bluestreak swiveled his head around and twisted his upper body around to see what was happening behind him.
Prowl was back, and he was quietly speaking to Wheeljack.
Bluestreak lowered his hand holding the wire roll and hid it behind his thigh.
"What do you mean?" Prowl asked.
"You know the sparkling story about the Emirates femmling who guarded by the Canyon Beast?"
Prowl silently waited for him to continue.
"It's kind of like that, except with a mechling instead."
Sideswipe chuckled, which made Bluestreak smile even if he didn't understand what was so funny. The noise was enough to get Prowls attention, and he looked over their way.
Bluestreaks smile evaporated.
Prowl turned and approached the gathered younglings, and Bluestreak just about swallowed his glossa. He flipped back around and hid his face against Sideswipes chassis. A part of him frantically believed that if he closed his optics and audio's and didn't acknowledge Prowl when he said 'You can't stay, you're leaving now,' then it couldn't happen and it would never be real.
Step, step, step, and he stopped right behind him. Bluestreak could practically feel him standing there. He curled up a little more in a protective shell as he heard the movement of Prowl lowering into a kneeling position; a feeble defense for what he knew what was coming.
"I have something for you Bluestreak."
Okay, that wasn't it.
Bluestreak tried to resist, he really did (it just had to be a trick because this wasn't going according to the script), but his will power could only put up a feeble fight against the innate youngling curiosity. He lifted his head and looked back at Prowl. At least he tried to, but something appeared first in the corner of his vision that was grey and limp and welcomingly familiar.
"I thought you would like to have Silverstreak back," Prowl explained.
Bluestreak sat up and held his arms out to accept the knot doll. Prowl released her to and Blue pulled her in for a tight embrace as if he hadn't seen his beloved toy in vorns.
Still kneeling, Prowl looked up at Sunstreaker. The youngling had been watching him closely, even suspiciously. Rather than taking offense, Prowl spoke to him as if nothing was amiss.
"Sunstreaker, I've been thinking about what you told me before I left. I would now like to speak to Bluestreak in private."
Bluestreaks head snapped back up.
Sunstreaker watched Prowl for a few klicks, before looking away and shrugging one shoulder.
"Whatever."
Prowl stood up and held a hand out for Bluestreak.
The youngling stared at it like it had snarling gnashing razor sharp jaws. It took a not so subtle nudge to the back from Sideswipe before he took it. Had he been physically capable of gulping, he would have done so.
Prowl led him to another part of the room for a bit of privacy. The mech indicated for Bluestreak to sit down in a chair against the wall, which he did so slowly. Bluestreak held the doll in front of him with both arms like a shield, terrified of what was coming next. Anxiety partly turned to shock when Prowl kneeled down in front of him, putting them optic to optic.
"Tell me Bluestreak, why do you think I said that you, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker needed to leave?"
Bluestreak kept his optics averted and held the lumpy doll a little tighter. Prowl lowered his head and leaned to the side to match him.
"Bluestreak, look at me. Why do you think I said that?"
The small Praxian didn't respond, but Prowl was patient and did not push him. The mechling opened his mouth and stopped twice before he had the nerve and composure to answer.
"…Because I…in the med bay…and, um…I…yelled at you…and…I threw my datapad at you?"
Prowl kept waiting.
"And now you, um, you don't…want…me…anymore?"
Just saying it out loud was almost enough to send Bluestreak over the edge – and he was dangling by his fingers as it was. His optics welled up and threatened to overflow, and it was getting harder to talk at all. He still couldn't bring himself to look at Prowl, or he'd lose it completely.
"Don't you think Phase Out had anything to do with it?" Prowl asked.
Bluestreak slowly shrugged, avoiding having to answer.
"Don't you think it's possible that I only want you to be safe?" Prowl pressed gently.
"You can protect me," Bluestreak said quietly.
"I want to protect you, Bluestreak. That's why I suggested sending you away."
The youngling minutely turned his head to look up at Prowl without having to face him full on, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion.
"But…if we're far away from each other, how are you supposed to protect me?" he asked.
"I'm not the only in the world who can take care of you. I'm not even the best mech for the job, if truth be told. I only wanted for you to go to a place where the Decepticons wouldn't be able to find you. A proper safe house, if you will."
"It wouldn't work," Bluestreak said firmly. His optics narrowed in a dark expression. "No matter where you try to hide me, the Decepticons would find me anyway. They're like monsters; no matter where I go they'll always find me."
Prowl's head reared back slightly in shock. Bluestreaks assertion bore a disturbing resemblance to the voice of experience. Was he referring to his interpretation of what happened at Praxus…
…or was he remembering more than he had been letting on?
"What makes you so sure of that?" Prowl asked carefully.
Bluestreak turned his head away again.
"I just know. I just…back in the Hub, I was really scared, but before that, I felt…safe. I wasn't scared anymore, but I used to be scared all the time. I don't want to be scared any more. That's why I like being with you; you're not scared of anything."
Prowl hesitated. There were several different directions he could take this conversation – he could press it to learn what Bluestreak was recalling, he could plant a seed for him to consider and accept his inevitable departure…
…or he could be honest…
"That's actually not quite true. When I found out that Phase Out was in the Hub, that was the most scared I had been for almost as long as I can remember."
…and bare his spark for the first time in his life to another living being.
Bluestreak whipped his head back around in visible shock.
"You were scared?"
"Yes, very scared," Prowl confirmed with a small nod.
Bluestreak blank CPU was summarily hijacked by the still fresh memory of Prowl in the Hub, throwing Phase Out aside like a limp doll and hefting a smoking rifle with a murderous ferocity Bluestreak never knew he was even capable of.
"You didn't look scared," he pointed out skeptically.
Prowl smiled a little. "That's because, even though I felt scared, I didn't have time to be scared. It's alright to feel fear, but we can't let it control us; otherwise we act hastily, irrationally, or become simply paralyzed. I knew that if I let that happen, if I hesitated for even a klick, then I might not have been able to save you."
Blue smiled a little.
"Well, thank you for coming for me even if you were scared of the Decepticon."
The smile faded when Prowl shook his head.
"You misunderstood me. I wasn't afraid of getting hurt by Phase Out. I was afraid of losing you."
Bluestreak slowly lit up in CPU blowing understanding.
"So…what you said before…" he started tentatively, like a student who wasn't completely sure he had the right answer but was trying anyway. "…you didn't want me gone, exactly. You just…want me…safe?"
Prowl nodded. "That's exactly right. All I want is for you to be safe. You shouldn't have to live in fear."
The mechling lowered his head so his chin rested on top of Silverstreak.
"I think I get it now, but I'd still rather stay with you," he admitted quietly. "When I'm with you, I'm never scared. Even with Decepticons."
Prowl leaned in a little to match Bluestreak.
"Actually, Lockout and I were discussing that very topic after I left. I've been thinking, and we both believe that perhaps evacuating you, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker at this point in time would be premature. We will be taking measures to reinforce our defenses and internal securities, of course, but in the mean time we thought it best for you to continue residing here until the Contingent is able to take you, just as we had decided on when you first arrived."
Bluestreak rose his head up again so they were back to being optic to optic.
"I can stay?"
"Yes."
"With you?"
"Yes."
He didn't know it, but the sheer relief and welling joy that sprung from the entirety of Bluestreaks spark lit up his face with a smile that made his entire being glow with his happiness. That sincere reaction was enough to push Prowl to his next words.
"I also owe you an apology Bluestreak. I never meant to make you believe you were unwanted. I don't want you to ever think that again."
Bluestreak nodded. "I promise."
Prowl smiled at the mechlings earnest words. What he did next would surprise them both.
He reached behind Bluestreaks head, and gently tipped it forward the final few inches to tap against his own in a gentle bump.
"Thank you, Bluestreak."
Blue off-lined his optics and let the shutters fall closed, smiling as he felt a warmth spread throughout his body. A simple head tap from Prowl made him feel as warm an accepted as a dozen hugs from Jazz.
On the other side of the room, Wheeljack discreetly rubbed out a speck of dust that got stuck in his optic.
Sideswipe shot his brother a triumphant grin while Sunstreaker watched the proceedings with arms crossed in reluctant approval.
When Prowl came back with a relaxed Bluestreak in tow, Sunstreaker stepped up to meet them.
"Great, you had your happy family moment. What about mine?"
"Sunstreaker!" Wheeljack exclaimed, appalled by the gold mechlings blatant disrespect. But Prowl just held a hand up to the engineer, indicating that he would handle it.
"The last I heard, Red Alert was still in surgery," Prowl explained to Sunstreaker. "No one knows exactly how long it's going to take, but one mech gave me a conservative estimate of another six or seven joors."
Sideswipe got up and came up next to his tense brother.
"There isn't anything we can do for him right now," Prowl went on. "But if you would like to be close to him, you can sit in the waiting room for as long as you wish."
"Can I come too?" Bluestreak asked, looking up at his Caretaker.
Prowl shot Sunstreaker a questioning look. After a moment of stubborn hesitation, he shrugged with feigned casualness.
The tactitian placed a hand on top of the grey mechlings head as he answered. "Very well Bluestreak. I won't be able to sit in with you for very long, but so long as the three of you behave you may stay in the waiting room for as long as you like."
oOoOoOo
It was five joors into the operation, and the patient was still at a touch and go stage that had everyone fraying their last nerves. That Red Alert hadn't died on the table yet was encouraging, but nothing to celebrate.
Socket ducked out of the busy OR and paused for a klick, relishing the brief chance for silent peace. Compared to the organized mad house he had just left, the quiet, empty stillness of the larger Med bay was almost eery.
The greyed out corpse in the middle of the room like a macabre table center wasn't helping.
Socket made a wide circle around the deceased Phase Out and quickly gathered up the copper-based wires and circuit breakers he needed; they had already run out of their supply in the OR. As he collected the supplies, the paused and glanced back at the Decepticon. No, no, keeping that thing in the middle of the room like a morbid display wouldn't do at all. They should have at least kept it off to the side until someone got around to doing the autopsy – preferably in a dark, rarely used corner where no one would have to look at it.
Decision made, Socket went over and quickly wheeled the body to the wall, in a nice, inconspicuous corner next to the tall lockers. It blended oddly nicely to the wall; unless you were
looking for it, you might not even notice it was there. Perfect.
Satisfied, Socket turned the corpses head to the side so it was looking out into the med bay and ran a hand over the back of it before he let it be. He hurriedly picked up the items he came for and returned to the OR. He could already hear Ratchets loud, sharp commands breaking through every so often and guiding the assembled doctors and nurses like a general did with his troops.
Socket never paid any attention to the shadow beneath Phase Outs gurney, nor did he ever see the small, black creature with glowing red optics that hid within them.
oOoOoOo
Meanwhile, Jazz was having a mildly difficult time trying not to die.
Jazz swung his arm around the thick metal slab that was his cover and fired off three rounds before ducking back down, just in time to avoid having his own head shot off by nine more rounds coming the other way. The missed shots served to blast a particularly impressive crater in the wall behind him instead. Jazz raised one arm to shield himself from the small flying pieces of debris and shot a look to the left and right to gauge everyone else's condition.
Two orns ago Ultra Magnus had contacted Optimus about a search and rescue team of his that had gotten trapped, after attempting to evacuate neutrals in an area that had been getting increasingly dicey. Most of the Autobots and Neutrals had gotten out, but a small team had remained behind to check for anyone who had been left behind. They had planned to be out before the Decepticons could come too close, but obviously the troops had moved a lot faster than anyone had anticipated. Finding them was easy; Ultra Magnus still had their last coordinates and the team wouldn't have moved too much in that time. Getting the out again, however, would require a bit more…finesse.
This was where Optimus' Special Ops team came in.
The plan was simple: Sidestep would take most of the Special Ops team and create a diversion that would occupy the Decepticons, distracting them long enough for Jazz to lead everyone else out and back to safety. They had split up about a quarter joor ago, and things had seemed to be going well.
Right up until they exited the underground tunnels.
The blue mech who's designation Jazz hadn't had time to catch had sensed the tremors and called out a warning right before half a dozen digger drones burst out of the ground in a semi-circle in front of them and opened fire. The warning had been just enough for everyone to dive to cover behind anything they could find. But the digger drones weren't the problem: it was the five Decepticons with a Pit of a lot better marksmanship skills and actual armor who showed up shortly afterwards. More annoyingly, Jazz had used up his grenades just getting to the trapped team in the first place. The visored mech took a quick look around to gauge everyone else's condition.
To Jazz's right, the blue mech who had detected the tremors first had found cover in a small upturned transport. He had no handheld weapons, but was instead relying on the cannons mounted on either of his shoulders. They were packing a punch, but the inevitable kickback made his aim suffer.
To Jazz's left, Squad leader for Ultra Magnus' team (big green mech named Springer if he remembered right) was holding his own behind a pillar, protectively covering the lone neutral they had found; a young red and yellow mech who had gotten separated from his family. A little beyond them was a blue and black femme armed with a regulation pistol. Jazz gave her credit for keeping cool under pressure, but her marksmanship was leaving something to be desired.
Behind them, the underground tunnel they had come from, still empty, but if they attempted a retreat they'd lineup like targets at a shooting range and be gunned down before they could get a half dozen paces. Up ahead, the Decepticons were getting braver and advancing closer. If they got a chance to circle around and come from behind, they would be overwhelmed.
This was very not good.
One Decepticon, a big rusty red and grey brute, stood up from his cover and tried to pepper Springer's half exposed head when the green mech poked it out to shoot. Springer ducked right back behind the piller, still hovering protectively over the neutral. Jazz lifted himself just high enough to peek over at the 'Con – right before his body jerked and he tumbled forward limpy, a new hole in the side of his head.
Jazz took a moment to be grateful for Mirage's awesome sniping skills, and to be extra glad Sidestep had thought to order the Towers mech to hang back rather than follow the rest of them into the tunnels.
: : Jazz, it's Mirage. The Decepticons haven't located me yet, but they're starting to close in on my position. I'm going to have to relocate sooner than later, but I won't be able to cover you in the mean time. : :
Jazz frowned and thought for half a klick.
: : No Raj. Just get out of there while ya still can. We don't need t' risk losin' you. : :
: : But I- : :
: : Just go Raj! Before they find you! : :
: : …Yes Jazz. : :
The Special Ops mech fervently hoped Mirage would be able to make it out safe. He didn't want to have to be the one to tell Hound otherwise.
Jazz lifted a hand to his head and activated his comm. : : Sidestep, do you copy? : :
: : Make it fast Jazz, I'm a little busy right now. : :
: : We got ambushed on the way out and we're completely pinned. Any chance you can spare Swiftstrike or Turnabout? : :
: : Sorry Jazz, it's taking all we've got just to keep the main patrol of your backs. We'll to get to you when we can but – fraggit stay down! – but until then you're on your own. : :
: : Copy that. : :
An intense burst of gunfire preceded a blue body landing heavily on all fours next to Jazz, frame shaking marginally from the exertion but no worse for wear for his run through the fire except for a painful looking scorch mark across his back. The blue mech crawled up next to the black and white one and sat up with his back against the slab.
"Not to sound pushy or anything, but if you happen to have a Plan B, now would be a great time to share it," he said calmly, like they were having a friendly discussion over oil treats.
"Still workin' on it," Jazz replied, peeking out and around and comparing the current landscape with the maps he downloaded before leaving this morning.
"Ah, okay," the other mech said. "Tell me, if we were able to get past this little obstacle of ours, would you be able to keep them from tracking us?"
"Absolutely."
"Perfect. I'll divert these Decepticon's attention long enough for you to get everyone else out of here."
Jazz whipped his head around at the mech.
"My mech, I am NOT about t' let you throw your life away with a suicide plan."
"My mech, you are vastly overestimating my generous self-sacrificing nature," the blue mech said dryly. "Trust me, I'm not that good of an Autobot quite yet. Give me…exactly forty three klicks, and be ready to run."
"I didn't agree t' your plan yet."
"It's not open for discussion either. Forty three klicks Jazz, starting now."
Deaf to Jazz's protests, the mech pulled up and darted back down the tunnel they had come.
"Where's he going?" the neutral asked in wide opticked panic. "Is he leaving us? Is he leaving us?!"
"He's not leaving us!" the femme called back to him. "I know him; he would never abandon his allies."
"But at least we'll know for sure in exactly 44 klicks!" Springer added unhelpfully. He flinched as a corner of the slab came right off and landed on his shoulder. His shelter was starting to come apart. If he was going to do anything, it was going to be now or never, not 'now or 44 klicks from now'.
Okay, two choices: sprint and circle around and make the 'Cons think there is a second Autobot wave coming from another side and have Springer lead the others out…or hold tight and trust that the blue mech knew what he was doing.
"Just hang tight kid, and we'll be out of here before you know it." Jazz called to him cheerfully as he cocked his pistols.
The following forty klicks would be some of the longest in Jazz's life, to that point at least. Jazz kept the timer ticking in the back of his head, but kept his focus on keeping his sights on the enemy and their drones, focusing on any that looked like they were trying to circle around and barking directions at the other Autobots if they had a better line of sight than he did.
At precisely forty three klicks, the tide changed…in a fashion most bizarre.
A thick black smog appeared and rolled down, engulfing the Decepticons and, defying conventional physics, just hovered over them. Gunfire was replaced by shouts of confusion and anger, and at least one misfire where one trigger happy idiot tried to continue his assault and one of his cohorts paid the price for it.
Jazz didn't waste any time gaping at the phenomenon.
He jumped up to a sprint and smacked Springer and the femme between the shoulder blades as he passed, grabbing their attention.
"That's the signal lady and gent. Springer, grab the kid and move!"
They took off at a run, sliding down and jumping off a small slope down into a trench and running along the bottom until they got to the nearby underpass, away from the 'Cons, their reinforcements, and the hostile dangers. They didn't stop running until they were well beyond the Decepticon territory line.
~ 2 joors later ~
The bunker was a bit cramped with too many 'bots vying for a piece of flat floor to lie down in, it badly needed windows and had clearly seen better times if the slightly worrisome rust patches in non-vital areas were any indication, but it was well hidden and safe, the perfect spot to rendezvous and recuperate after a physically and mentally exhausting orn. Springer was still keeping a close watch on the neutral as the femme gently talked him through his experience, but the 15 vorn old mech, now known to all as Hot Rod, seemed to be doing okay. With a bit of luck, he'd be back with his family in a couple of orns top, just as soon as they were able to contact them and let them know that he had been found. Sidestep was mainly glad that everyone had made it to the bunker in one piece.
Well, almost everyone.
Sidestep exited the bunker and took a moment to absorb the peaceful quiet, before looking over to where his unofficial second stood. Jazz had been standing there, looking out into the distance, simply…waiting. Sidestep quietly came up next to him and looked out as well. Neither of them said anything for several moments.
"You know we won't be able to wait for him indefinitely," Sidestep reminded him.
"We can't," Jazz emphasized. "I ain't leavin' him behind."
"I'm preemptively forbidding you from staging a single mech rescue mission for another mech of unknown location and status," Sidestep deadpanned.
Jazz didn't say anything, just kept watching the horizon. Sidestep gave him a sidelong look.
"You already know this, but it bears repeating: you can't hope to save everyone. If you try, you'll risk paying too high a price: more lives, or your own life. Hope is all well and good – it's what keeps us sane – but you also need to be reasonable. Otherwise, you'll either burn out from all the disappointment and guilt, or go completely mad instead."
Sidestep looked back out into the horizon. Jazz's lips pressed a little more tightly together.
"Maybe you're right," he conceded. "But I won't ever give up on anybot unless I know he ain't comin' back."
Sidestep smiled just slightly at the younger mechs stubbornness. He had always been an optimistic mech. Maybe that was why Sidestep liked having him around: it was a refreshing change to have a mech at his side who could honestly still believe in the best outcome.
Suddenly they both twitched and stood a little straighter as both their sensitive sensors detected what their optics couldn't see yet.
"I totally shoulda bet credits on this," Jazz said with a smirk.
"Ah, but I never actually said I didn't think he'd make it," Sidestep countered.
"Now you're just splittin' wires."
Sidestep took a step forward as the blue hovercar pulled up. It slowed to a stop and transformed into a familiar blue and red mech who was looking entirely too smug with himself, if the little grin and raised wings were any indication. Without preamble, Sidestep spoke first.
"Going off what Jazz told me of you and you're little trick for saving everyone's collective aft, I'm going to assume you're the Diversionary tactician Smokescreen. I'm starting to regret letting Ultra Magnus snatch you up first."
"What can I say? Can't help the luck of the draw," Smokescreen said, his grin widening slightly as if laughing at an inside joke.
"I've been talking to everyone about what had happened before we found you team," Sidestep went on. "Obviously, you're the last. What can you tell me about the mission?"
"Not much more that you would have already gotten from Springer," Smokescreen admitted. "It was a mission to facilitate the evacuation of a small Neutral alcove that found itself a little closer to the Decepticon's than they were comfortable with. It was a joint venture between Ultra Magnus and Elita One – three guesses which of us is from the Contingent. In any case, we found out that one or two neutrals had been left behind in the rush, so the three of us volunteered to go back and get him. We figured, between us we'd be able to keep optics out on all sides and have enough firepower to fight off the random scouting party we'd likely come across. It took us longer than we anticipated finding Hot Rod, but by then our escape route had been too badly compromised. We spent two orns trying to stay hidden before you guys showed up."
"There were almost a dozen bots in the original mission roster," Sidestep pointed out. "What made you three decide to go back?"
"Partially because we volunteered, mostly because Springer figured we balanced out pretty good for the mission parameters," Smokescreen explained. "He brought me along in case we needed to run without getting shot in the back, with the bonus points of being a former psychologist."
Sidestep and Jazz exchanged a look.
"You've had psychology training?" Sidestep asked.
"I worked as a psychologist before the war," Smokescreen said. "We had no idea what mental state the lost Neutral would be in. Just to be safe, Springer figured it'd be helpful to have someone with some actual training around to help talk the Neutral down in case he was too frightened or traumatized to listen."
"So you've worked with traumatized patients a lot, with post traumatic stress disorder even?" Jazz interjected. Smokescreen started to answer, but stopped with an odd look.
"Where exactly is this going?" he asked.
Sidestep placed a hand on his shoulder. "The Headquarters are closer to here than Ultra Magnus' main base. We'll be stopping by there for rest and repairs before we send anyone on their way. But so long as you're visiting us, there's a mechling or three we'd like for you to speak too…"
End Ch. 8