Chapter Eleven:
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Nightshade.
Chromia gets some love in this chapter. :D
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"Ratchet to Nightshade."
No response.
"Ratchet to Nightshade, please respond."
No response. Ratchet was puzzled. Why wasn't she responding? Maybe she was busy...but she'd said that she was going to go on shift...
"Ratchet to Nightshade, please respond."
No response. What if she was hurt? What if she'd gotten injured on shift, fallen unconscious, and was currently dying?! What if she'd been kidnapped?!!?
"Ratchet to Prowl."
"Prowl here." Prowl was surprised by the mild urgency in Ratchet's voice.
"I can't get in touch with Nightshade. Have you seen her?"
"Actually, I did."
"Where was she?"
"She and Chromia are in the brig."
"WHAT?!!?!"
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"Why the slag did you put her in the brig?!"
"A femme has no place in the brig, you bit-brained-"
"If they did to you what they did to me, you'd understand," Prowl snarled at the two advancing mechs, holding his ground. A silly move, on his part. He could have taken Ratchet on his own, if he had disabled Ratchet's saw, and maybe Ironhide if he got enough of a head start on running, but there was no way he would have been able to take both of them on at the same time.
"What, pray tell, did Nightshade do to you?"
"And Chromia? What did she have to do with this?"
"She called me to Elita's office with some cock and bull story of a breach in security and I open the door and there's Optimus and Elita, on her desk, going at it!"
"…slag. Sorry," Ironhide said, his anger momentarily forgotten as the statement brought up files he thought he had deleted. He, too, had caught those two going at it like younglings interfacing for the first time…in six different places.
"That's still no reason to put either of them in the brig!"
"Yeah," Ironhide agreed, nodding at Ratchet.
"They'll only be in there for a few hours, so calm your processes," Prowl said, glaring at Ratchet.
"She's my mate and if there's any problem whatsoever, you come to me. You got it," Ironhide snapped, his temper starting to get the best of him. His arm cannons started up with the familiar whine and crackle of electrical discharge. Optimus walked around the corner just in time to see Ironhide take aim.
"What's going on here? Ironhide, put your cannons away," Optimus said, one optic ridge raised. Prowl's nasal plate crinkled in mild disgust. The images were trying to break down the mental barriers he had built to protect his logic chips.
"He put Nightshade in the brig!" "He put Chromia in the brig!"
Both mechs exclaimed their protests at the same time.
"Tell him to take her out of there-"
"It isn't fair-"
"She's not built for that kind of cold!-"
"I'm going to kick his aft!-"
Optimus held his hands up to stem the protests coming from both of the enraged males. Ironhide was pissed; anyone messed with his femme they'd have to deal with him…
"What Chromia and Nightshade did was wrong and embarrassing, to Elita, Prowl, and myself. They deserve to be punished. However, they should not have been put in the brig in the first place without telling you first," Optimus said, sending the tactician a mild glare.
"How long is their punishment?"
"Six hours, sir."
"It has been shortened to three hours now."
He ignored the protests from the three of them.
"I could either leave them in there for the full six hours or I could let them go."
A chorus of 'Yes, sir's answered him.
"Now, Prowl. The next time you have a problem with Chromia, you will get Ironhide and come to my office. The same goes for Nightshade. However, Prowl, you will retrieve Mirage. Do you all understand?"
A second chorus of 'yes, sir's answered him.
"Good. Now, to your posts, the lot of you."
The mechs scattered, although grumpily and unhappily.
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"Chromia, I'm freezing," Nightshade whined, wrapping her arms around herself in a futile attempt to warm herself. Chromia blinked in confusion. She couldn't feel the cold…
"I'm not cold," Chromia said, flopping back on the uncomfortable berth and propping her legs up against the wall.
"You can't because you're wearing all that armor! I'm just wearing the basic stuff," Nightshade said, curling up into a ball on her berth. Two and a half hours had passed, and she was feeling abso-fraggin'-lutely miserable.
Another half hour passed in silence. The doors hissed open and in came Prowl, followed by Prime, then Ratchet and Ironhide.
"All right, ladies. Your punishment is up," Prowl said, typing in the override code and stepping back. The bars on the cells separated out of the way. Chromia rushed out of her cell, throwing her arms around Ironhide. Nightshade shuffled out of her cell and wrapped her arms around Ratchet, trying to escape the cold.
"Primus, you're freezing," Ratchet said, taking her into his arms and trying to warm her up the best he could. Chromia gasped and rushed over to his side, placing a hand on Nightshade's back.
"She needs a hot bath-no, Ratchet, you won't be the one bathing her," Chromia said, taking the femme in her arms and leading her to the doors.
"But-"
Ratchet was left standing stupidly in the middle of the room. What had just happened?
"Don't worry. Chromia will take good care of her," Ironhide said, clapping Ratchet on the back.
"But…"
"Awww, is the Hatchet worried about his wittle femme?"
"Shut yer slaggin' mouth before I give those pictures of you to the twins," Ratchet snapped. Ironhide only grumbled and glared at the medic.
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Chromia opened the doors to the washracks, guiding the femme inside.
"Hey guys…ooh, what's up with Nightshade?"
"Hey chickas!"
Maggie and Mikaela were currently enjoying the hot tub installed especially for the humans. Chromia waved back and shoved Nightshade under a jet of steaming hot cleaning fluid. The warmth hit Nightshade like a train and she started shaking as her systems started melting the water frozen in her lines. Chromia then pulled Nightshade into the water, helping her peel off her light armor. Chromia then tossed the pieces of the femme's armor into a nearby scrubbing rack. Nightshade purred as she sank deeper into the fluid, soaking in the heat. Her shell was so warm now... Chromia sat down on the edge of the pool, dragging a bucket with her. Filling it with the warm fluid, she dumped it onto Nightshade. The femme squealed softly.
"Now that you're warming up, stay there until I'm done scrubbing whatever it was in the brig out of your shell," Chromia ordered, standing. The doors to the washracks reopened, and Chromia peeked around the privacy screen warily. It was Elita and a few other femmes. She sighed in relief. Girl time! They all made themselves comfortable in the pool, after taking off their armor. Chromia joined the femmes in the pool. Nightshade was sitting in the corner, almost up to her audio receptors in the heated fluid.
"Nightshade almost froze her aft off in the brig. I thought she would enjoy a nice, hot bath," Chromia said, stretching out in the blissfully hot fluid.
"Aw, you poor dear. Prowl is such an aft head," a purple femme said, scrubbing herself down with a large brush.
"What did y'all do?" asked Mikaela, scooting over to the edge of the jacuzzi. Nightshade and Chromia took one look at one another and started laughing hysterically.
"They are forbidden to speak of it," Elita snapped, glaring at the two females. Chromia settled in the tub, flicking fluid at Elita.
"Remember back on Cybertron, how we'd all gather up all the younglings and sparklings and we'd all bathe together?" Elita asked sadly. The cleaning pool looked so empty with just them in it... The femmes nodded, their minds wandering back to when Cybertron had been peaceful and golden…
"Remember little Bee's first time in the pool?"
"He was too adorable! He was clinging to his creator like a raft!"
"And when she finally scraped him off he threw a tantrum that blew out one of the guard's audio receptors."
"Poor dear…remember when Jazz was younger, too?"
"He always shoved the little ones in the cleaning fluid."
"Such a charming young one," an older femme snickered, "You and Chromia were still younglings when he did that…and when he shoved Ironhide into the water? You almost drowned Jazz…then again, Ironhide would have flayed little Jazz had he known that it was on purpose." The femmes snickered. The little black bot had been trying to impress Chromia, even at such a young age…and along came the tiny bundle of silver. The 'little angel' as his creators called him, curled up underfoot. Ironhide, not wanting to step on the little one had opted to belly flop into the bathing fluid.
"So, Nightshade. How are things between you and Ratchet going?"
"They're going along just fine."
"Guess what, girls," said one orange femme.
"What?" A few femmes had been paying attention.
"Firestar's found her another mech."
"Who?!"
"Leo."
"She's been pursuing Leo? Nice choice," Elita said.
"Mmm…he has a nice aft," Chromia purred.
"He's smart, good-looking, and rich…but…"
"Uh-oh, the fatal flaw…"
"He is a complete aft-head to every femme. He believes that a mech should have absolute authority over everything, even sparklings," Chromia said, a low growl starting in her voice.
"Uh…How does it work out for you guys?" Mikaela had abandoned the jacuzzi and sat on the side of the cleaning fluid pool. She dipped her toe in and immediately withdrew it. She may have not been a doctor, but she did know that her skin was not supposed to tingle that way.
"Things used to be so much more different before the war. We used to have separate roles…for example, mechs and femmes are equal in the eyes of society and law, but there are so few femmes that decide to work outside of the home, that mechs end up providing for us anyway…our bonding vows even say that a mechs purpose was to protect and provide for his femme and her sparklings."
"What about you? What did femmes do before the war?"
"A femme was the caretaker of the family unit. She had absolute authority over the home and any sparklings she may have borne. Nowadays...unbonded femmes have to provide for themselves, instead of depending on her mate or bonded. It's very difficult, because most femmes aren't trained to fight or do work around a base like this. We are lucky. We've been trained for the most part. Most femmes were trained as instructors. In fact, femmes were the only instructors in education centers unless a youngling decided to go to the military academy. The other femmes were dancers like Nightshade or attendants in nurseries, or medical officers."
"You forgot dolls," Chromia said, raising one optic ridge.
"What are those?"
"They…ah…are what you would consider prostitutes."
"Oh."
"Moving on," Elita said, waving away the cloud of gloom that had descended into the area, "I'm hoping that we have younglings on the base once more. I miss them terribly."
"Why don't you ask your mate?"
"Bah, he hasn't got the lug nuts to take care of a youngling," Chromia said darkly, "but he sure doesn't mind the activities that could result in a sparkling."
Maggie just rolled her eyes, got up, and went to get something to drink out of a nearby cooler.
"Males," she said simply, popping open a can of soda.
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Chromia finished drying her armor off and snapped it back on, relishing the feel of squeaky clean armor. She yawned and ambled down the hallway to her and Ironhide's quarters. She typed in the code and went inside, stretching her limbs as she did so. The room was dark and she sighed darkly. That bit-brain had left the light off, again.
She wandered around, feeling for the light switch, when all of a sudden, a pair of arms wrapped around her. She squeaked.
"Hello, darling. Did you enjoy your bath," Ironhide's voice was a low growl in her audios, and it sent a wave of anticipation through her frame. This was a first. He was usually spent with just one or two overloads…
"I enjoyed it very much," she responded, feeling her frame heat up with her arousal. Maybe he'd be up for a few more overloads tonight… His arms tightened and he began nibbling at the armor on her shoulder while dipping one of his hands down in front.
Chromia mewled softly as he began massaging her pelvic joints, tweaking the lines to her interface unit.
"Ironhide," she breathed out, tugging him toward their shared berth. Ironhide followed, eagerly.
Chromia was an extremely happy femme that night.
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Chromia staggered into the astrometrics lab the next morning, a cup of energon in one hand and a data pad in the other. Elita looked up from the star chart she was reading and analyzing. Then she smirked as she took in the dazed look on her friend's face.
"Long night?"
"You have no idea," Chromia said, a tired but content smile/smirk crossing her face.
"Damn, girl. I wish Optimus had that kind of endurance."
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So. Yeah. Woohoo!