Chapter 90
=0=Earlier
They sat at a table in the Rec Room together, their servos in their laps and their little blue optics following everything silently. Around them sat many of the off duty mechs enjoying the company of the younglings, some of them for the first time in their lives since their own childhood.
Bluestreak and Sideswipe directed by Ratchet mixed the energon formula that the little ones were going to be on for a while to ease their little stressed underdeveloped chassis back into shape for regular energon.
Silverbow watching Hound as Trailblazer held her cup was as silent as ever. The two of them found she loved her little cup, even sleeping with it as she recharged between them. It was probably the first personal possession she ever had. It was yellow, had her name on it in Cybertronian glyphs and was designed and gifted to her by Sunstreaker before she left for Earth. All of the mechs present were watching carefully as Ratchet explained how their food would work for a while.
They each received their cups filled with the special formula, the three little mechs and the femme. Then the difficult part began. Hound and Trailbreaker nervously stood behind Silverbow as Hound knelt to encourage her. She took dainty sips with long pauses between. She was still suffering from deprivation and the newer belief that someone would take her cup away from her, this first real possession of her life.
Hound looked worriedly at Ratchet. He rose, then walked to the medic. "Why isn't she drinking more? She's so little and ... she's ... I'd think she would be hungry."
Ratchet took them aside. "She's been without for so long that she can't believe she can have what she's got. She also isn't entirely well. I put supplements in the energon for the minerals and metals that they weren't given. I also put something in to soothe assimilation of the energon. They could be harmed if fed too fast or too rich. You have to be patient. There's no right or wrong way here to get them to eat. They will eat if we don't make an issue of it."
Hound with a stricken expression leaned into Trailbreaker for a moment before pulling himself together. Turning back to the babies, he walked to the little femme and knelt down again, smiling at her as she sipped once more. She smiled back at him scooting slightly toward him in her chair. His expression was incredible as he moved closer to her.
Rambler, T-Bar and Spirit were doing better. Rambler helped his brothers as he sat with them, his servo under their cups as they rested between sips, the effort of eating clear on their face. Getting even this level of nutrition was a marvel and it took a while to assimilate it. Hunger had been a constant in their lives for a long time.
The Autobots behind and around them were grim-faced with the outrage of the children's suffering and the unspoken truth that there were more sparklings, younglings and adults out there that needed them, too. For every rescue no matter how big there were thousands and thousands more that needed them.
=0=Conference room, Autobot HQ, Diego Garcia
Tom Jaspers spilled his guts detailing the entire operation of Intel-Martin from his vantage point and access. They were working with a mysterious billionaire code named High Flyer to capture Autobots. The idea was to take the technology and apply it to weapons and other highly salable items, using the cash to destabilize foreign governments and finance the rise in American and European politics of people who would be amenable to the bidding of both. These individuals didn't like the aliens and wanted them gone but not before they pillaged their technology for their own personal gain.
They were behind all of the interdictions the Autobots had made including Denver where Ironhide had almost died. They were the group that the trade-off would most benefit once they received the weapons. The biker gang was hired to be their intermediary in Denver. Other groups fulfilled that function in other attempts, all of them thwarted by the Autobots and N.E.S.T.
They were supposed to meet High Flyer and no, they had no idea who he was. He just funneled money to causes and individuals both inside and outside of government to get the leverage they all wanted to influence public opinion. Undermining the Autobots in the mind of the public was task number one.
Task number two was capturing the Autobots Springer and Arcee to bind Intel-Martin and Nast to High Flyer once-and-for-all. High Flyer wanted to use Intel-Martin as a platform for their power climb and Nast was a willing accomplice.
Springer who was sitting in the corner listening stifled the urge to punch the human in the face. They were talking about him, his life and fraggin' autonomy. No one had introduced anyone so Jaspers didn't know who he was. He listened as the human told what Intel-Martin had planned to do.
"Did High Flyer tell ya why he wanted to capture these two particular Autobots?" Jazz asked.
Jaspers shook his head. "No. I got the idea that it was personal. I don't know half of what Nast said to High Flyer. I just know that Nast found it amusing to talk to High Flyer about the two."
"He talked to High Flyer?" Jazz asked.
Jasper nodded. "Nast told me that he had a funny voice but that the dude was using some sort of scrambler to make sure no one could identify him. Flyer was paranoid. But then I suppose I would be if I was doing direct business with the Decepticons."
It was silent a moment, then Optimus leaned forward. "You are on vacation. Your office and family will be notified. As of now you are a guest of the Autobot Embassy."
Jaspers looked at Prime, swallowing hard. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked as his voice quavered from barely contained fright.
Prime looked at him a moment then shook his head slightly. "How many people have asked you that, Mr. Jaspers? Think about it and you may have your own answer already." He glanced at Springer. "Could you replace Mr. Jaspers and bring Nast, Springer?"
Jaspers jolted then turned around to look at the green and yellow mech rising up from a corner chair. "Springer?" he stuttered as he glanced frantically between Springer and Prime.
"The one and only, all day long," Springer said reaching out to grasp Jaspers in his servo. He held him up, scrutinizing Jasper a moment, then smiled slightly. "Don't worry, Mr. Jaspers. It won't hurt. Much," he said as he walked out the door holding Jaspers in his servo like he was an old rag.
"You really enjoy that don't you," Jazz asked glancing at Prime who looked at him sheepishly. "It never gets old does it?"
Prime grinned slightly. "No, it does not."
=0=Ratchet
He sat daydreaming as the day droned on. Ironhide and the others were interrogating the fraggers that were the cause of not only most of their own misery but of misery around the world. It was easier to pass the time trotting down memory lane than thinking about work now that the younglings were fed and resting. Where was he? Ah yes. Their 'courtship'. He grinned.
"Ratchet?"
Ironhide looked at Ratchet who was standing on the steps, looking up at the hotel where they were going for his 'audition'.
Ratchet looked at him with a gimlet eye though it would be vorns and eons and oceans of time before Ironhide would know that was what that was.
"Ironhide ... what is this place?"
"It's a hotel," Ironhide said glancing at Ratchet quizzically.
"For pleasure drones and sleaze bags," he said. He frowned, resting his servos on his hips as he scrutinized the mechs coming and going. "Rent by the breem?" The sign was discreet but visible.
"Well," Ironhide said glancing up at the facade. "It was recommended."
"By who? A pleasure drone?" Ratchet said, his frown deepening.
"It won't be forever, Ratchet. Just until the ..." He grinned. "The audition is over."
"Pretty seedy stage, Ironhide," Ratchet said reluctantly following Ironhide inside.
It was equally miserable inside as Ironhide got the key then led Ratchet or rather dragged Ratchet by the servo down the hallway to an end room. Sliding the key in the sensor lock it clicked then Ironhide dragged Ratchet inside. The light came on with their arrival and the room presented itself. There was an over sized berth and nothing else.
Nothing.
Ratchet shook his helm as he turned to Ironhide who was looking around rather sheepishly. "You really know how to treat a mech."
"You wanna go some place else?" Ironhide asked looking wan.
"No, Ironhide, I wanna frag."
Ironhide grinned as he gripped Ratchet by the waist to pull him against his own chassis. "Why didn't you fraggin' say so, you slaggin' yellow aft?"
Ratchet smirked as he slipped his arms around Ironhide's broad shoulders for the first time ever.
Sober.
"Shut up and show me what you got."
And he did, Ratchet thought as he pushed a button on the panel. Sitting back he considered that it was a good thing that there wasn't anything else in the room but the berth ...
He lay half off the berth when he came online again. Reaching around, he decided he was alone. Sitting up groggily to look around with dimmed optics he found Ironhide offline on the floor. "Slagger," Ratchet said grinning at the big doofus. "Too much mech for your shiny aft I can see."
After a small unaccounted amount of time Ironhide's optics fritzed online and he sat up slowly. Glancing around, he looked up to catch the bemused expression of his soon-to-be Only One. "You're one slaggin' good old mech. Bond with me."
Ratchet laughed as looked at him fondly. "You're a romantic old fragger, I'll hand you that."
"And you're the best looking old slagger on Cybertron."
Ratchet smiled at him knowing he meant it.
Then he nodded.
And they did.
As he sat in his chair pushing buttons on a planet that wasn't his, carrying a sparkling that would be, he thanked Primus for a good natured broad shouldered mech like Ironhide to help him take care of it because he sure as slag wasn't going to do it all by himself. He might be a slave to the awesomeness that was Ironhide but he wasn't anyone's fool.
:Ratchet:
:What?:
:Just checkin':
:We're fine. How are you?:
:Getting' there:
:Good:
:Ratchet?:
:What?:
:Just checkin':
The warmth that surged over the bond was met and exceeded by that which reached Ironhide in the conference room. To his credit he didn't smile.
reward. Ratchet didn't put out on the first date. What was there to do on the second one if you did, he thought with a chuckle as they swayed and sashayed their way out into the dark night of Iacon.
Ironhide who was seduced by Ratchet from first glance gripped him around the waist as they both walked down the empty street. Behind them the sound of laughter, chatter and music faded. They were both drunk and feeling no pain while the idea of making it to the Citadel where both were stationed on peds alone looked at this point daunting.
Ironhide paused on the sidewalk to look this way and that for transport. There was none. He looked at Ratchet who was swaying as he grinned at him. "You look beautiful."
"You're pretty cute yourself," Ratchet managed before they launched themselves at each other. Staggering backward into an alley necking furiously, they fell to the ground rolling repeatedly to slam into the building wall. Then they gave in to drink and fell into a stuperous recharge.
The next day the sound of garbage collection drones woke them up so they walked to the Citadel to start a new day. It would be a longer chase this time but in the end they would both give in.
Ratchet's way.
-0-Sideswipe and Bluestreak
They sat together in the lounge off the Rec Room, peds up on the table before them as Bluestreak snuggled against Sideswipe's chassis. "Sunstreaker is aware you're with me." He grinned as he pulled Blue closer.
"You and your bond," Bluestreak said looking up at Sideswipe. "Tell him hi for me."
Sideswipe paused a moment to do so, then chuckled. "You don't want to hear what he replied."
Blue grinned as he snuggled closer, watching the mechs in the Rec Room beyond playing cards, chatting and laughing. It felt like home.
-0-Ironhide v Ratchet
"You're kidding."
Ratchet could remember the exact words and expression on Ironhide's face as he laid down his terms as well as the wrench he'd used to tighten the last bolt on Ironhide's knee assembly.
"Nope."
Ironhide looked at Ratchet, considering the challenge in his optics, the smirk on his face and the incredible attraction of his yellow aft. "You're on."
"You're finished," Ratchet said glancing over his shoulder. "NEXT FOOL!"
Ironhide hopped down, skirting Ratchet and as the medico turned back to the berth to clean up. Ironhide gave him a sound slap on his yellow aft.
Ratchet turned toward the big goof then shook his head. He held up the tools in his hand. "You'll have to do better than that," Ratchet said. "You aren't the only mech out there."
Ironhide knowing the truth of that smirked. "But I'm the one who's going to land you, ya big yellow aft."
"Don't try and sweet talk me, Ironhide," Ratchet said laughing loudly.
"Tonight. I'll come and get ya," Ironhide said as he walked to the door with an excess of satisfaction in his step.
Ratchet watched him go then smiled. Tonight was going to be fun.
Ironhide clearing the door casually hurried to the medical library annex down the corridor then pulled a cable out of his wrist. Plugging in, he searched the database and pulled up relevant files, books, treatises and entertainment videos as he brushed up on his technique for the evening.
/… audition for ya, ya slagger … I don't have to audition … when I 'face someone they stay 'faced … frag, that's a good one …/
He downloaded that one and several others, then headed for the mech's club down the street to get a wash, a wax and a detailing for the only mech he would ever demean himself enough to woo to this degree of humiliation.
Ratchet the awesome, he thought. Ratchet the one who by Primus was going to be his. For Ratchet the Beautiful, Ironhide would suffer.
-0-Bluestreak and Sideswipe
They sat on the couch necking, talking quietly and enjoying the company of the other. Winding down with someone was a good thing, Sideswipe thought with smirk. :… Right, Sunny? …:
:FRAG YOU, SIDESWIPE! I'LL KICK YOUR AFT! I'LL TEAR YOUR AFT OFF AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT!:
That was when Sideswipe tamped down the twin bond, preferring to give all the attention he had to Bluestreak and his amazing lips.
-0-Ratchet and Ironhide
He stood in the doorway of the hospital, shined, spiffed and ready to rumble. Ironhide arrived at about the same time as shiny as a new penny himself. They admired their reflection in the others chassis, having a good joke about how slippery it was going to be shortly. Then they walked off together on the first day of the great adventure that was going to be Ratchet v Ironhide in The Bosom of Love™.
-0-Lounge
A rap on the wall interrupted their moment. They looked up, then straightened up quickly. Prowl who was standing in the doorway with a severe expression on his face shook his head. "No intimacy for three decaorns."
Bluestreak nodded, glancing at a shame-faced Sideswipe.
Prowl turned to go, then paused by the door with a smirk. "You might thank Sunstreaker for me knowing about you two." Then he left with a soft chuckle trailing behind.
Bluestreak who smiled in spite of himself looked at Sideswipe who had an expression of intense surprise on his face.
Sideswipe looked distant as he opened up the twin bond again. :SUNSTREAKER! YOU FRAGGER!:
A voice trailed over Sideswipe's outrage: "What's that, Sideswipe? I can't hear you."
Bluestreak sat back, anticipating the entertainment value of their endless moments some day soon when he'd be able to hear it, too.
-0-Prime
He walked into the conference room then set Jaspers on the table, one of the soldier's chairs catching him as he shrank back. Prime, Ironhide, Jazz, Prowl and Springer were facing him. Springer came in from Autobot City just for the paybacks of the interrogation. They stared down at the human, himself almost insignificant in comparison.
"Mr. Jaspers, I want to know what you know. And I need you to make sure you do not leave out a thing," Optimus said.
Jaspers stared at Prime, his mind in a jumble, then he decided to throw himself on the mercy of the truth. He sat back, gathered his thoughts and began to spill his guts, Nast be damned.
By the time he was finished, it was clear that Nast probably would be.
Chapter 91
-0-The Conference Room, Diego Garcia
They waited quietly, conversation light or non-existent. Prime who was sitting back in his chair with a datapad in his hand didn't look up when Springer returned carrying Nast in the same manner as he'd carried Jaspers. Setting him down none too gently on the table, all optics turned toward the human who sat in shock for a moment before rising to back away as he looked around frantically for escape.
There was none.
"Take a seat, Nast," Prowl said leaning forward on his elbows, his wings flicking in tension. "Now."
Prowl's soft demand, his cool optics and imposing form leaning into Nast's face shook the human out of his torpor. He moved swiftly to sit on the chair.
Prime who was 'fascinated' with his datapad didn't watch, preferring whatever braggadocio Nast brought with him to bleed out under the capable ice cold optics of Prowl.
For a moment it was silent as both sides regarded each other without comment. Then Jazz leaned in to peer at Nast closely. "You should talk to us and tell us everything without leaving out any details, Mr. Nast. Jaspers already told us enough to have you shot for treason by the Americans."
"I'm an American and you can't hold me or treat me like this," Nast said defiantly even as his voice quavered slightly.
"You made me laugh just a little, Mr. Nast. There isn't anything in your law or Constitution that protects you from laws of other nations or sovereign groups. You aren't on American soil. You're in the Autobot Embassy and therefore you only have rights only if we say you do."
He looked at Jazz in disbelief as fear formed on his face. He struggled with the idea that no amount of talk, money or bullshitting was going to get him out of the mess he was in. How could he reach a machine?
"You need to tell us about High Flyer," Jazz continued.
"High Flyer?" Nast asked repeating Jazz in his muddled condition.
Jazz nodded.
Nast sat a moment in an emotional muddle, then with effort gathered himself. He looked at Jazz defiantly. "And if I don't tell you about him or anything or anyone else? What then?"
Prime lowered his datapad to regard Nast levelly. "Then I would be obliged to give you to Springer. Apparently, you find it impossible to believe that we can care about your fear and predicament. You might force me hand on the issue and end our problem with you becoming Springer's punching bag."
Nast startled at the sound of the name. He glanced around, finally spying the green and yellow mech sitting against the wall.
Springer with a humorless smile on his face waved his hand.
Nast shrank back in his chair, turning forward again to look at Prime nervously. "If I tell you what I know what will I get in return?"
It was silent a moment, then Prime leaned slightly forward. "I'll tell my 'bond mate' not to step on you when he takes you back to the brig."
Nast looked back at Springer who was grinning slightly. Then he looked at Prime. "I thought you were supposed to be some kind of upright good guy."
Prime grinned slightly. "You have endangered my family and my people. What would you do in my place?"
Nast stared at him trying to reconcile the commentary of High Flyer, the news cycle and eyewitnesses to the figure before him. He didn't know what to think but he knew that the green and yellow mech sitting quietly against the wall, his blue-eyed gaze never leaving him was no one to fool with. He leaned back in his chair trying to relax even though he had never been more scared in his life. "What do you want to know?"
Jazz smiled.
-0-Sunstreaker
He sat at his duty station on the command deck of Autobot City's Ops Center silently fuming. When they had finished with the refugees, Sideswipe had gone back with Prime to Earth and he was left here to assist in the repatriation of the newcomers. It annoyed him at first although off duty drag races on the plateau were living up to everything he thought they'd be when he'd first come here.
Yet, being here left Sideswipe a clear field with Bluestreak and he could tell when there was something going on when the twin bond was tamped down. He thought about Sideswipe being intimate with Blue, putting their tenuous relationship with Prowl on the line and he was pissed.
He was aware that Sides had gone on a mission and though the jealousy of Sideswipe being in action without him along bothered Sunstreaker, the relaxation afterward with Blue was worse. He'd even teased Sunstreaker about it. Of course, Sunstreaker had gotten even ...
:SIDESWIPE!:
The dampened bond only echoed back to him driving him further into a spiral of anger than if he could've seen and felt what the two were doing. Rolling in a tight circle of impotent rage he paused with a grin.
:Sunstreaker to Prowl:
[A pause, then an answer]
:Prowl here. Sunstreaker?:
:Affirmative. I just wanted you to know that my slaggin' brother is probably putting moves on Bluestreak right now:
[Another pause]
:Really:
:He is. I can feel it. You better go save Bluestreak. We all know what a slagger my brother is:
[A longer pause. The impression of a chuckle] :I will. Prowl out:
Sunstreaker left the door open to Sideswipe as he waited. Then it was back, the intimate connection that the two shared whether they wanted it or not. :SUNSTREAKER! YOU FRAGGER!:
It was all good, Sunstreaker thought, the music of his brother's incoherent rage filtering through him as he made his way to the firing range. :Are you talking to me, Sideswipe? I can't hear you:
The invective grew even louder.
Sunstreaker smiled bigger, a scary prospect to everyone who had to pass him as he want on his way.
-0-Conference Room, Autobot HQ, Diego Garcia
Nast looked at Jazz coolly, finally collecting his composure. "High Flyer? He's a client. Someone who posts on the in-house listserv."
"How did he get on? It's private and closed," Jazz asked.
"I don't know. I don't concern myself with trivial in-house items like that," Nast said folding his arms in front of him as he regarded Jazz with something of his normal arrogance.
"You spoke with High Flyer," Jazz said, "several times. Tell us about that. Who contacted who and what transpired?"
Nast shrugged. "He contacted me on my office phone which is private and heavily encrypted. It was a neat piece of hacking but then he has the money and interest. I'm sure he has the best experts possible working for him."
"Content. Tell us about the content of your calls especially requests, partnership ideas and the like," Jazz persisted.
"He wanted to help me get what I'm paying lobbyists millions for, weapons that you have so that I reverse engineer, make and sell."
"Our treaties forbid us from doing so," Prime said. His own blue optics cast a formidable glare at Nast who leaned back but didn't bow.
"Your treaties don't work here," Nast countered.
Prime leaned forward impaling Nast with his gaze. "Our treaties work everywhere." Prime leaned back.
"Continue," Jazz said, his own disgust evident.
Nast shrugged. "We made arrangements to get weapons because he said he had a pipeline into the Decepticons. I didn't believe him but came around when he sent me pictures of their weapons, real pictures taken of them. I believed him and made arrangements which you and your group interrupted each time."
Jazz nodded, smiling humorously. "Slaggin' right. Tell us about High Flyer."
Nast considered that. "He's strange-sounding and a freak about secrecy. He has the right ideas though. He wants Earth for humans and all of you machines out. He's supported the right candidates and has a lot of investments in media and other businesses. He wants what he wants. And I'm not in disagreement with him."
"What does he want?" Prowl asked quietly.
"World domination. The usual," Nast said. He grinned at the thought of it. "With me at his side, control of the world, its resources and population, the usual thing. The right application of fear, money and rhetoric in the right places by the right people at the right time, maybe aided with an event here and there and it can be done. People are sheep. They'll even follow you when you take their last dime or their last loaf of bread. High Flyer knows that."
"He does, does he," Jazz said quietly.
Nast stared at Jazz, curiosity warring with the studied indifference on his face. "He's my kind of guy. The politics are bullshit but the end goal isn't."
Jazz nodded. "You really are a fragger aren't you, Mr. Nast.
He sat comfortably on his chair with a smirk on his face. "If you say so, robot."
-0-Elsewhere
Bluestreak carried the youngling in his arms to the water's edge and set him down. The others following slowly, fearfully paused just short of the incomprehensible immensity of water the ocean constituted before them.
T-Bar held onto Bluestreak tightly as he looked down at his little peds. He watched as the tide lapping lazily against them. It felt really good so he loosened his hold slightly, smiling up at Bluestreak as he did. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his brothers and Silverbow in a huddle with Hound, Sideswipe and Trailbreaker standing around them protectively.
T-Bar slipped his arm free and allowed Bluestreak to hold his waist as he looked at the water. Reaching down, he touched it with his servo. The warmth of it was surprising to him. Stepped forward, he felt his peds sinking into the sand as the water came in and out around them, the gentle waves carrying away and bringing sand with it each time. He chuckled, a soft sound to the adults who looked at him with delighted surprise.
Rambler dropped Spirit's servo then walked to where T-Bar was standing looking down at his peds to marvel at the sight. He bent down to touch the water looking up at Bluestreak with a smile. Hound who picked up Silverbow walked toward the three to kneel when he reached the water.
Silverbow sat on Hound's knee her, little yellow cup clutched in her hands as she looked at the sea with wonderment. She looked up at Hound who gently set her down on her peds in the water.
Staring at it for a moment, she bent down to put her cup into the water, filling and tipping it so that it ran out. Smiling, she looked up at Hound and Trailbreaker, then chirped. She asked them 'what?', pointing to the water as she did. They looked at her with shock and intense love in their optics. Her delight was theirs as they explained.
As they did, Sideswipe pulled out a pail and some over sized spoons he'd gotten from the N.E.S.T. commissary from his carry hold and set them down in the sand. Spirit who was clinging to his leg let go, then walked to them to pick a spoon. The little mech stared up at him unaware of what came next.
Sideswipe sat down at the water's edge and picked up a spoon. He began filling a bucket with sand. Spirit who watched him sat down, too, and began to help.
They would play together filling and emptying the bucket with water and sand until it was time to step back into the treeline. The adults would transform and the younglings would sit inside for the forty-five minute window that the low level satellites overhead would take before being out of range to photograph them. Then they would return to the sand and water to play quietly until dinner.