Duty and Deceit
Chapter 11
Undesirable Arrangements
"We're surrounded!" She shouted, leaping to another boulder and feeling the sting of shrapnel on her dorsal plating as her previous cover was blasted to pieces. /Commander Bludgeon, sir! The mission is compromised! I repeat, the mission is compromised. Requesting immediate reinforcements!/
Officially her mentor, Makeshift, was in charge of the reconnaissance mission. Unofficially, this mission was testing her own leadership skills on the battlefield.
The small femme leaned her dark frame against the rock, standing up when the barrage of weapons-fire lulled. She fired off a round of her own cannon blasts, downing a mech that was foolish enough to step into her sights. Hearing a communications ping, the spy ducked back down.
/How many of your team is left?/ Commander Bludgeon's cold voice played in her mind as she hurriedly read his message on her HUD.
/There's only five of us left, sir. Makeshift, myself, Barricade, and the symbiotes, Rumble and Ravage. The others are offline. We are under heavy fire sir, we need backup!/
She stood up to blast a few more of the Autobot ambush, but her aim was thrown off by a hit to her shoulder. The wound had punctured her tire; her alt-mode would be practically useless. Grinding her jaw against the pain, the Prussian blue femme took cover again, watching as enemy fire ricocheted off the sides of her boulder.
"Specialist! Where is that backup?" Makeshift roared over the sounds of battle. The little femme cringed slightly at a feral scream from Ravage.
"I'm working on it! The Commander is responding too slowly! I'll keep trying." She went back to the comm., still firing heavily on the enemy troops. /Commander Bludgeon, what's the ETA for reinforcements?/
/Your team has served the cause well, Terabyte. However we cannot spare any troops for your rescue. Know that your sacrifice is for a noble cause. Bludgeon over and out./ Her optics widened as she read the message. They'd been left for scrap.
"Slag." She turned to her mentor. "Makeshift! We're on our own. Reinforcements are not coming. What do we do, sir?"
"This is your mission, Terabyte. Your call. Remember rule number one." A nearby enemy sniper howled, falling from his perch above them.
"Never let your troops see your indecision." The femme whispered. Louder she gave her orders out loud and through comm.-line. "Recon Squad Delta, regroup at my coordinates and prepare to fall back. Bludgeon's left us for dead."
"What're you giving orders for, kid? I thought Makeshift was in charge." Barricade sneered.
"Lieutenant Colonel Makeshift has placed me in command. You-" She cut off her angry retort when her mentor interrupted, finishing her sentence in his own way.
"-will follow her orders as you would my own, or we'll have to have words later. Understood?" He paused to toss the ex-Enforcer a menacing grin. "Good."
Chaos ensued when the Autobots' lead tactician, Prowl, was sighted. She wasn't sure why their small reconnaissance mission was so important to the Autobots. Why would they have sent one of their best mechs to take care of them? They must be close to something big. Soundwave will want to know about this. They'd found it by a fluke, but the information would be very useful.
The whole team was made up mostly of older mechs now; the younger ones had gone down a while ago. Of course that meant that they didn't think she was a capable enough leader to cope with the bigger baddies. So instead they went solo, every mech for himself; which just left her and Makeshift.
That didn't last long, as her mentor - wearing an Autobot form - decided to try and rally the other three before they got themselves offlined.
She was still firing on the Autobot forces, her aim true as ever - after all, when a femme has target practice with a sniper who has near-legendary skills, she was bound to have learned something. It wasn't until too late that she noticed the band of Autobots that had snuck up behind her.
Hearing the footsteps, the spy spun around to meet them only for the Autobots she had been firing on previously to have a clear shot at her back. The heat from their blasters licked at the dorsal plating before the blast actually hit.
Time seemed to slow down and she could feel her armor tearing away from her frame. She smelled the sharp scent of burnt wires and exposed life-En fill the air. The pain set in shortly after and she screamed in agony, falling to her hands and knees.
A very small portion of her processor that hadn't been overwhelmed by the fiery pain noted the sound of a jet engine rapidly approaching.
True to her word, Terabyte started working on her report as soon as she'd finished her repairs enough to stay operational. She was terribly tired though... It had been a stressful rotation to say the least. The small noises of Ratchet's working lulled her into a fog and the temptation to just slip into recharge was nearly overpowering.
As the femme listened to the muffled whirr of the welding torch, the quiet griping of the medic as he worked, distant voices of the other mechs... The datapad slid out of her thin, silvery servos, landing in her lap with a light clink. Golden optics dimmed to gray and the black and Prussian blue helm fell gently to her shoulder.
Bink...
"Huhmm? Go 'way..." She mumbled, still in recharge.
Bink. Bink. Bink.
'Who-?' Terabyte accessed the communications ping and read through the details blearily. 'Soundwave... Encrypted message on emergency line... -! Soundwave! ... I wonder how long he's been trying to...'
The comm. channel was secure. There was no way that the Autobots would be able to intercept it. Especially since Team Prime had no hacker on Earth at the moment. Yet another thing tipping the scales of this war in the Decepticons' favor.
Bink. BINK.
/Yes sir? My apologies, sir./ Terabyte sent quickly. It was never a good thing to make the communications head wait. Although, she'd pretty much already shot that. Who knew how long her boss had been trying to contact her while she was asleep.
/Skyquake: terminated?/ Commander Soundwave's message flashed on her HUD. His glyphs had a slightly annoyed slant. Perhaps it was a good thing that they were communicating through the comm.. Terabyte could almost feel the waves of angry frustration that were no doubt rolling off of the empathic mech.
/Negative. He is... alive. Severe processor damage. Mental stability uncertain at present. He has not yet awoken. The medic is completing repairs currently. The Autobots' alterior motives for his repairing are unknown./
/Maintain cover. Do not tell him./ He sent crisply.
Soundwave cut the link before she could reply. Don't tell Skyquake. But why? What harm could telling him do? If anything, harm would come of not telling him. Maybe it was just as a precaution until things settled in a bit...
How could she not tell him? He was the closest friend she'd ever had! She couldn't just start lying to the mech; that would be wrong. Besides, Skyquake could tell when she was lying; he'd figured that out vorns ago. Simply not mentioning it was just as bad... But orders were orders. In the end, Terabyte knew Skyquake would understand. Or at least she convinced herself that he would.
The gentle swoosh of the med-bay door shook her from her thoughts. Ratchet walked out, running one hand over his face-plates with an exhausted sigh.
"How is he?" Terabyte asked, expression and tone carefully blank – in theory.
"Resting. I will bring him from stasis next orn if he hasn't woke up by then." Ratchet said, sounding like he was quoting a report.
Terabyte realized that he must have finished with the procedure while she was asleep and had been working on other things. How long had she been in recharge? She didn't even remember powering down in the first place. The mini-bot stood up slowly, wincing a little and checking her chronometer. Rotation's almost over. She could still have that report for the Prime finished if she hurried.
Not noticing that the medic had left and brought back a medical scanner, the femme made to leave. A red hand grabbed her forearm roughly.
"And just where do you think you're going?"
"To my cell; the Prime asked that I have a report ready by end this rotation." She explained, trying to wrench free of the medic's grasp. His grip was unrelenting.
"Well Prime can wait, because I'm going to make sure none of my patients are left uncared for." Ratchet snapped, dragging her back into his medical domain. Terabyte couldn't help but shudder lightly at the medic's harsh tone.
He firmly pushed her onto one of the empty berths. "And when I'm finished, you're going to be moving into some quarters. The brig will be needed."
Deciding that it was best that she not fight the medic – doing so would be pointless and only serve as a hindrance to her mission – Terabyte worked on her report while the mech ran multiple different scans on her as well as completing her repairs more to his satisfaction. Both Cybertronians finished at approximately the same time.
Terabyte stood up, admittedly feeling much better, keeping her helm tilted respectfully downward. She would simply wait for the medic to act first; by rank, that was all she really could do. Not to mention the medic's sour mood and love of thwacking mechs with various medical utensils.
"What are you waiting for? Get out. I have work to do." Ratchet grumbled as he set about putting away his tools. He was obviously still not too happy about having to repair Skyquake.
"Yes sir." The femme answered, a bit puzzled. These Autobots at least didn't seem to hold protocol in very high regard. More accurately; they didn't seem to have protocols.
She remembered they had followed very strict regulations back on Cybertron... Perhaps the death of the former SIC had something to do with it. Most mechs had been scared of Prowl, with good reason too. The war had really started to look up for the Decepticons when he was terminated; the tactician had practically been the backbone of Autobot law.
Discarding that thought line for the time being, Terabyte entered the main room and looked around for the Autobot leader. He wasn't there.
"So the Doc got you fixed up? Feeling better?" Cliffjumper asked with a fairly chipper tone.
"Yeah." The femme answered shortly. The three humans glanced up at her with curious expressions. "Do you know where I might find the Prime?"
A lowly growling engine drew her attention to the two Autobots on the couch. "Optimus is in his office." Raf answered. Bumblebee's optics narrowed and his tone was dangerously flat. Or maybe that's just how it was without the whirring and beeping. "You'll speak English when humans are present, 'Con."
She frowned, "English?" Oh. She had still been speaking Cybertronian. Well she was Cybertronian, who were they to tell her she couldn't use her own language? "What's wrong with Cybertronian? I speak English when I'm talking to the humans and I speak our language otherwise."
"While on Earth you will speak English… at all times. Not just when talking directly to them." Bumblebee growled.
Miko glanced over at Raf from where she was sitting. "What are they saying?" She whispered loudly enough for the mechs' sharp audials to pick up.
"Um… I think she doesn't want to speak English unless she's talking to us, and Bee's insisting she does. I think." Raf whispered back to her.
"Well, you know, it is kinda rude…" Miko pointed out, supporting her Autobot friends.
"Was killing our planet not enough for you?" She shouted at the Autobots accusingly, ignoring the human sparklings. "Must you destroy our culture as well?"
In the background, Terabyte could hear the youngest still translating as best he could. He at least got the basic idea of what she was saying.
"Tera'... that is not the point. It is polite to the inhabitants of the planet we are disturbing with our war." Cliffjumper said, dead serious now. "To be honest, I'm surprised Optimus didn't-"
"Don't you dare call me that!" Terabyte shrieked, then stopped and took a deep intake to cool her overheating systems. She couldn't allow her past to interfere with her mission. Her shoulders slumped as she forced herself into submission. "I will speak the fleshies' language."
"Hey! We're not-" Miko protested loudly before being interrupted.
"Miko!" Jack hissed, prodding her with his elbow sharply.
"What? I'm not scared of some stuck-up Dece- Ow!" Miko yelped as Jack's elbow collided with her abdomen again.
"Giant evil alien robots, Miko. You do not want to make her mad." Jack said sharply.
Terabyte clenched her jaw tightly and with a curt deferential nod to Cliffjumper, the dark blue femme walked quickly to the Prime's office. Now the human children were going to be afraid of her. As if she would harm sparklings. Already the Autobot prejudice was tainting these innocents' minds. The spy shook her helm lightly and opened the door to the Prime's office. Upon entering, Terabyte found that the Prime was occupied with something or other on the surface of his desk, which was basically a giant datapad.
Placing her report on the edge of his desk, Terabyte stared at her pedes, not wanting to distract the Autobot leader, but still wanting to get his attention. He looked up slowly.
"Yes, Terabyte?"
Said femme turned her helm away nervously. She fiddled with the accessories on her cannon for a little bit before answering, just barely keeping herself from using Cybertronian. " I fin- I finished my report as requested... And..."
She couldn't do this. How would the Prime respond to such a presumptuous request? She was still a prisoner, for pit's sake!
"Go on." Optimus was now paying full attention to her. He was clearly expecting her to continue and would not allow her to back out now. Though she knew the Prime was still fairly young, the spy couldn't help but notice the age-old wisdom behind his blue optics. There was something else there too; like he knew a secret about her… It was frightening. She got a feeling that the mech could see right through her; straight into the depths of her very spark.
Terabyte slowly shuttered her optics for a moment to regain her composure. "Ratchet sent me to request living quarters for myself."
As soon as she'd said it, Terabyte realized how much that had sounded like she was trying to pass blame off on Ratchet. She would have rephrased her request had the Prime not spoken so soon.
"That can be arranged. As you know, this base is not large, because of that you will likely be sharing someone else's quarters." She nodded briskly as the Autobot continued, "If you will follow me, we can discuss the matter with the others."
Needless to say, the suggestion did not go over well.
"You want us to share our personal quarters with a 'Con?!"
"No way!"
"She'd kill us in our sleep, first chance she got."
"Big 'Bot, I really do want to trust her, but don't you think it's a little early for this?"
Terabyte winced at their accusations. She would never kill an Autobot in their sleep! She smirked. No, if she was going to offline an Autobot, she wanted them to be awake; to see and feel their termination coming.
As she fumed internally, her anger and hatred for the Autobots welling up inside her, the spy glared at her pedes. She sincerely hoped that she looked subdued and respectful, and not like she wanted to rip their helms off - which she did.
"I know it is risky, but it will not be without appropriate precautions. I will not force this responsibility upon any one of you, and you know that I would not ask you to do what I would not be willing to do myself." Optimus interrupted their protests, bringing silence to the room.
"Then why don't you do it yourself?" Miko asked from where the humans had been listening. They had been getting ready to go home when she and the Prime entered.
Terabyte's helm shot up in alarm. Involuntarily the mini-bot cringed away from the Prime, semi-successfully repressing a low whine from her engine. The idea terrified her, honestly. The Prime was one of the greatest Autobot warriors in Cybertronian history; to be that close to him would be suicide!
A rumbling chuckle came from the Prime. "Judging from her reaction, my assumption was correct… Our goal is not to terrify every mech that tries to join us, but to make them feel welcome." He looked at her with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Again she got the feeling that he knew more about her than he was letting on. Terabyte looked away quickly, slightly perturbed.
Silence fell once more as each mech considered their Prime's request. In that time, Terabyte considered her own preferences.
Optimus had already been ruled out. Bumblebee was out of the question; there was no way she'd live in the same room as the mech who'd tried to kill Skyquake. Arcee hated her, so that was pretty much not going to happen.
So, logically, Cliffjumper, Bulkhead, and Ratchet were the only plausible op-
"My answer is no!" Ratchet hollered from the next room.
Nevermind then; just Cliffjumper or Bulkhead. But which of them would volunteer? Terabyte really just wished she could have a place to herself, but that was not likely to be happening for a very long time. Sharing quarters would make it so much harder to hold her cover though... She wouldn't be able to be herself for the entirety of her mission.
"I'll take her." Cliffjumper said finally, breaking the silence. He shrugged, "I have an extra room in my quarters. Besides, like I said, I want to trust her."
Although a bit surprised at the depth of his sincerity, the Prussian blue mini-bot was not at all surprised by the red warrior's decision.
"No!"
All helms simultaneously turned to gape at the speaker's unexpected outburst. Arcee stepped out of her little corner, arms crossed stubbornly.
"No." She repeated firmly. "It's not safe; we can't trust her. She belongs in the brig, like the 'Con she is."
"'Cee? Give her a chance at least..." Cliffjumper argued, frowning as if puzzled by her reaction. He looked ready to add one of his lame jokes to release tension, but Arcee went on before he could.
"Give her a chance to do what? Stab you in the back? We've nearly lost you once already. I won't let that killer be trusted!" Arcee yelled. She seemed to do that a lot. Terabyte wondered just what had happened that had engendered such hatred for the Decepticons in the femme. She tried not to think about how similar it was to her own hatred for the Autobots.
"Ever consider that people can change?" Terabyte asked quietly, hoping to use this opportunity to reinforce to the Autobots her wish to defect.
"A 'Con is a 'Con! You can't just decide, 'Oh hey, I'm going to become an Autobot' and expect us to be alright with that!"
'I can't? Really? Aww, mech… And I'd thought it was working so well.' Terabyte thought in a sarcastically innocent whine. She grinned under her mask.
"We agreed to give her an opportunity to defect, Arcee." Optimus reminded her gently. "We will stand by that decision. Cliffjumper, thank you for your willin-"
"Fine! Cliff' is too trusting though, it wouldn't be safe for him, or anyone else on this base." The blue and pink femme's optics shone with challenge as she interrupted her Prime. She was practically daring someone to deny it. "I'll take her. She needs someone to keep a sharp optic on her at all times. Optimus?"
Terabyte was getting really sick of being spoken about like she wasn't standing right there. Was she going to get any say in this? Eh, who was she kidding? POW's didn't get choices. She would just have to adapt with whatever the Autobots threw at her. That's part of why she'd been chosen for this mission; she was adaptable.
"Your point does have merit. Cliffjumper? Is that satisfactory?" The Prime asked, even though he had obviously already decided. Whether Cliffjumper agreed or not would probably have no impact on his choice.
The red front-liner had apparently come to the same conclusion she had. "Yup! Although I might want to get a thicker wall…" He trailed off, grinning at Arcee. The femme tore her burning glare away from the spy long enough to land it on Cliffjumper for a few astroseconds.
"Then it is decided. Terabyte, you will be sharing quarters with Arcee."
Two rotations after Skyquake's awakening. Near midnight.
Logic. Centers. On…Line.
Skyquake could feel every system come sluggishly online, one by one. His helm ached and his processor was struggling to bring him online. Almost like it had never done it before… But that was absurd. Of course he'd woken up before… at some point…
Where was he? Skyquake tried to open his optics but they didn't respond. After several more attempts his optics finally opened and ruby optics were flooded with a blindingly bright light. He snapped his optics shut immediately. Or at least, he tried to. There was a several-nanoseconds-long lag between impulse and action.
The pain in his processors was getting worse every moment he was online. It felt like his processors were out of sync with each other, his processors running at three different speeds; causing his helm to feel like it was being torn apart. Skyquake tried to remember what had happened, but his memories were blurred and obscured by a mental fog. They felt… distant, out of reach. His optics dimmed as he attempted to ease the aching. He felt so weak, tired…
Terabyte! Where was she? Skyquake bolted back into alertness. He hoped she was alright. It had been so long since he'd seen her… Or anyone else for that matter. The mech frowned minutely. He couldn't even remember who he was supposed to know.
Forcing his processors into action, Skyquake tried to work out where he was based on what he'd seen in the short time that his optics were open. He wasn't with the Decepticons, the lights were far too bright…
Just before his mind slipped into the nothingness of stasis, Skyquake's processor provided the answer to his question.
He was with the Autobots.
Ratchet glared over at the Decepticon fighter lying unconscious on the medical berth, cluttering his med-bay. Hearing a quiet beep from the monitoring system, the medic got up and checked the Decepticon's vital signs. He frowned at the screen that was telling him that Skyquake was conscious and online.
The red and white medic looked at the offending Decepticon, and his scowl deepened. No movement whatsoever. Nothing to indicate that the mech was awake. Ratchet went back to work, glancing up at the warrior frequently.
A few klicks later, he checked the Decepticon's vitals again. Back to normal: Minimal processor functions, lowered spark pulse. Must have been malfunctioning. Ratchet scowled at the medical equipment before returning to his desk, grumbling under his breath.
"Stupid, glitching, primitive human technology…"
A.N. By the way, when I refer to Terabyte as a mini-bot, I simply mean that she is small. Like G-1 Bumblebee, Jazz and Cliffjumper were all called 'mini-bots'.