Chapter 40

-0-The Senior Autobot Staff Meeting late that night

Prime sat silently staring at the empty place where Ironhide had always sat. He'd always been his right-servo mech, the one who'd been his mentor when the Matrix had inexplicably chosen him to be the new Prime. Ironhide, his gaze appraising and critical had led him through the process of transforming from a worker to a warrior.

He'd shown him his weapons, picking them out as most appropriate, trained him to use them and had been his fountain of knowledge, his entrance into the world of war and fighting that had allowed him to become the greatest fighting Prime in their people's history.

He'd known nothing and he hadn't hidden his lack of knowledge, something that Ironhide had respected in him from the start. Over the eons, over the battlefields, meetings and split haired decisions of their lifetime together, he had come to think of the big black mech as a brother. Ironhide was his brother in all but name. And with Ironhide had come Ratchet, the two pairing up way before he'd ascended to the Primeship.

They were comical and utterly, completely devoted. They were as one to each other, to the Autobots, the Cause and to Prime. That was his platform, the basis upon which he stood, Ironhide, Ratchet and the others. On their shoulders, he could do what he had to do, save, lead and inspire them. And in return he was inspired, too. Without Ironhide's prank and his defense of Ratchet, he would still be longing for Prowl. He shook his head as he gazed from the empty seat to the others around him. "Ratchet, please update about Ironhide."

Ratchet nodded, twining his digits together as he leaned on his elbows. Fatigue was evident on his face. "He's going to be fine in a cycle or two. I had to remove his shin assemblies and reroute his cydraulics. There was extensive damage to his energon lines from extreme compression making the wound look worse than it turned out to be, thank Primus. I had to replace a lot of wiring and we're finishing up reshaping his plates. Some of them were broken but they were spidery breakages that'll heal themselves swiftly, given that Praxian armor is nearly sentient in that regard.

"Wheeljack has them almost repaired and I'll be reattaching most of them tomorrow. A few small pieces had to be remade, most of them simplistic such as his right rear locking clamp and both of his reserve power pods below his knee assemblies. I re-fed his energon deficiencies and put him into repair stasis mode.

"By tomorrow, he'll be arguing to get up but he won't be released. Part of the problem was that he wasn't 100% from Denver before this happened. Right now, he'll be returned to light duty in three cycles and back on his peds for normal duty in a decacycle."

Prime nodded with relief on his face. "I am glad. If you need back up in keeping him confined, call on me." He grinned encouragingly and so did Ratchet who sat back wearily.

"Prime, I don't get it. Why did they do this and how did they hurt him like this? He's a tough mech," Perceptor said remembering the damage clearly. "He was just crossing the tarmac to go to N.E.S.T. HQ. Why?"

"I talked to Colonel Fulton," Prime said remembering the conversation that morning after the incident.

-0-In the N.E.S.T. Administrative hangar at the speaking platform earlier

Colonel Fulton had never seen Optimus Prime angry. He'd seen him forceful about a point but usually he was calm and patient, listening to all points of view before stating his own. He would also if he felt his remarks were trumping others unduly calmly explain his position once more. But today, he was clearly angry and needful of information. "I need to understand what happened, why it happened and what is going to come next, Colonel," he said, his deep baritone modulated and polite but clearly expressing his emotional state of mind.

"You and me both, Optimus. I'm ordering an immediate investigation into the matter. The autopsies on the two dead men will be included. If there's impairment on their part due to substance abuse that will be a part of the report."

"There were no skid marks, no attempt to stop," Prime remarked, the idea of it still confusing him. "They had to have driven into Ironhide deliberately but for what purpose?"

"I can't speak for them but when I was a kid it was considered a sport to play chicken, to drive at someone else in a vehicle with your own to see who would swerve first."

"Chicken," Prime replied as a dozen references flashed past his processor as they poured forth from the internet. "All this death and consternation because of a game."

Fulton shrugged slightly with embarrassment. "I know," he said as he remembered his own memories of playing Russian roulette with his pickup truck in Texas as a youth. "We'll depose the survivor as soon as we can but we're not having any cooperation from Daniels. Intel-Martin is demanding an explanation as well."

Prime's expression hardened. "Let them."

They discussed the exchange of information and the newly issued rules in which access to portions of the base were curtailed, vehicles had to have a purpose and civilian activities were cut back severely around the building. It was essentially a no-go zone for humans. Lastly and most of all, Fulton felt when they were finished that he preserved at least for the base and the army the relationship they had with the Autobots.

-0-The staff meeting

"What a stupid idiotic aft-headed thing to do," Ratchet said as his offense raged. "They hurt Ironhide because of a prank? What is it with pranks like this?"

It was silent a moment. Then Wheeljack came in and took his seat. He leaned forward toward Ratchet. "I finished, Ratchet. You can re-attach tomorrow."

Ratchet relaxed. "Thank you, 'Jack."

"Wheeljack, have you started on the investigation?" Prime asked.

"Yes," Wheeljack replied. "I had to finish the refits for Ironhide but I also scanned the scene, the wreckage of the SUV before they towed it away and other factors."

"What about the SUV? How did it do so much harm to Ironhide?" Ratchet asked. "Or do you know yet?"

"I'm still analyzing it but this was no normal SUV. This is a special rebuild that was done by a specialist firm in Texas for the highest security risk clients in the world. They make a number of vehicles into armored cars and sell them to governments, corporations and private individuals. The VIN number of the Escalade tells me that it's owned by Intel-Martin, so no surprise there. It has a number of features that make it rather surprisingly lethal in the right set of circumstances."

"I would like a detailed report as soon as you can, Wheeljack," Prime said. "Jazz, you said you talked to Epps and Lennox."

"They're pretty shook up, Optimus," Jazz replied. "They're no friends of the mercs and feel as badly as can be about this. They hope the relationship won't be harmed by this. They're awfully fond of Ironhide."

"Ironhide likes them, too," Ratchet said.

"That is our main goal, to preserve the relationship. What we have to do is minimize contact with these people," Prime began. "I want chapter and verse on Daniels, his family, their friends, and associates as well as Intel-Martin. We better know the enemy before we regret it." He sat back glancing at Prowl's worried expression. "I would say we already do."

-0-Starscream

He stood on the deck of the Nemesis, a derelict wreck on a cold uninhabited moon that orbited Jupiter. He paced with agitation as he considered the new information that flowed through their computer system an orn ago. The humans were idiots. They were siphoning their people's collected conversations and correspondence then storing it piecemeal in computers without any real plan to sift it for use or even to dump it.

That part was of no consequence. What was astonishing to him was the reality of doing it through a central nexus and storing it as raw data in vast computer centers in one location. The potential for hacking and researching for targets of opportunity were limitless to someone with more than their insect mentality.

They were strange and foolish. They didn't protect their systems and societies very well. He'd hacked their information systems on a day he was very bored and found a bonanza of interesting items. Diego Garcia was home base for the Autobots who were growing stronger with every new addition from space. Prime had called for them, he'd made treaties and pacts to get a home and energy source for his people in exchange for hunting him and his faction.

It almost made him want to leave. That he was here, that he was working hard to bring down the insect population for the pleasure of it, that was almost worth sacrificing to see the Autobots without a good excuse to stay on that blue mud ball.

But he was still here, Megatron was still missing and the insult to their honor was an ever present wound. They'd defeated the Decepticons twice and word was trickling out, making its way back to the myriad worlds that were part of their dominion. It wouldn't do for others to find out that they could be defeated. The blow back was too devastating and the insult to his pride and sense of honor humiliating.

He'd found the Intel-Martin bulletin board when they were seeking a way to smuggle Cybertronian technology to gangs, some of whom were agents in the food chain for legitimate companies. He'd nearly dismissed it as inconsequential until a tag line in its corporate registry spoke to Autobot content. He'd digested the information, thought about it a while, then found a hook that he could sink into Prime's spark.

Optimus Prime not only was bonded, he had younglings of his own. That the bond he'd taken was the infernal Wrecker, Springer was almost as amazing to him as the knowledge that Bumblebee, an infernal mini-con was his son.

Their son.

It was obviously classified information or he would've known about it before. Prime must be feeling secure he thought to bring it into the open. He would know that any family members of his would become prime targets. What a fool the Autobot was, Starscream considered.

He'd discussed the information with himself, deciding to strike at every level he could to put his enemy off balance, to make him watch every step he took. He'd dispatched Barricade to maim Bumblebee, getting satisfaction for the blood-thirsty predator over a prior humiliation. Barricade wanted to kill the mini-con but Starscream forbade it. In due time he considered as he paced.

In due time.

-0-Med Bay

He stood in the low lighting watching the screens to see how well Ironhide's self repair units were doing. Well, it seemed. Well and good. Squeezing Ironhide's servo, Ratchet walked to the empty med berth nearby and climbed on, relaxing into recharge almost immediately.

-0-Nearby

Jase Daniels stood on the patio, the moon overhead throwing a bright illumination over the world all around him. He smoked his cigarette, sipped on a beer and thought about his phone calls and the anger at the other end of the line. He was irritated that he was being blamed for the drunken stupidity of his men. Make that Intel-Martin's men.

He felt the urge of vengeance well up, then tamped it down. Vengeance made you do stupid things. No. He was going to succeed, then he'd move on. He'd move up. There was a Senate seat out there with his name on it. This was the path to that life, succeeding here.

He dropped the cigarette and ground it out. Looking up at the moon, again noting that not so far away were beings that had seen more moons than he would ever would.

Aliens.

There were large metallic aliens on this base, on this planet, in the universe. It made him wonder about God. It made him wonder about his mission. But it didn't make him afraid. Oddly enough, he wasn't afraid.

He rose to walk inside as the door slammed shut behind him.