Chapter 2

Optimus watched the Eradicon awkwardly trying to clean himself. The only thing he would be able to reach were his legs, really. Yes, he would definitely need to be released. But then, even if the drone was weak and deep in the Autobots' base, he knew he couldn't just unlock the cuffs without thought. He wondered what his comrades would say if he asked them what to do, and in his mind the answer was unanimously against it. With the help of his imagination, they were even mad that he needed to ask. Well he was a Decepticon, after all.

He took another sponge from the shelf and loaded it with cleanser. He knew the drone could see him, and there was no point in asking permission. He needed to be cleaned, and there were worse forms of torture than unwanted help bathing.

"Hold still," he said, putting a servo on the drone's shoulder to stabilize him as he began to scrub his back plating.

The Vehicon froze where he stood. It wasn't the prospect of another mech bathing him - the drones usually did wash in pairs - but the fact of whose servos were on him and the question of why. Like a small prey animal caught before the gaze of a much larger predator, he remained stock still, staring straight ahead, listening to the sound of rushing water and the slide of cleanser over his back plating.

Optimus concentrated on cleaning him up, beginning with large circles and lots of suds that took care of most of the easily reached dirt build-up. He turned to the details, pressing the sponge into the small joints and twisting so the flecks of rock would be caught in the porous material and flicked out. In some places he would press his digit into the seam, scraping out the thicker clots of dirt before applying the sponge. Primus, he hadn't seen anyone so in-need of washing in ages.

He bent over as he worked, since the Eradicon's helm didn't even reach the bottom edge of his chest plating. In a passing moment he wondered if this was more intimidating to the drone than he realized, but asking was out of the question since he'd already chosen not to ask permission in the first place.

Slowly but surely, it dawned on KA-R1-302 that he was not going to be harmed. And once that fact had sunk in, he was able to acknowledge - just for an instant - that he'd never had a washing so thorough. It wasn't freedom and it wasn't safety, but it was a brief reprieve from the uncertainty of being an Autobot captive and he could work with it.

Offlining his sensory perceptors, he tried to place himself back on board the Nemesis - a fellow Vehicon's servos cleaning him so carefully and nothing to anticipate but the give of his berth. He scarcely realized when his helm began to tip forward.

When Optimus noticed the Eradicon nodding off, he decided to cut it short. He turned the nozzle for a slightly finer stream, which washed away the suds quickly and turned on the drying fan overhead. It wasn't nearly as powerful as the ones made with Cybertronian tech, but it would have him relatively dry in a few minutes. He looked at the drone, whose optical visor seemed especially dim with exhaustion, and hoped that Ratchet had left the cube of energon in his holding cell.

"Are you ready to return?"

KA-R1-302 jerked his helm upright, vision onlining, realizing with distant horror how close his systems had been to powering down. His servos were still cuffed and he was still in the Autobot wash rack, but the filth that had been caking him was gone and with it, strangely, a certain hopelessness. He also noted that the static in his processor was gone.

"I...er, yeah. I am."

Ratchet stood by the cell door, fuming. His optics brightened when he saw Optimus and the captive Eradicon turn a corner. "Thank you for letting me know you were going to leave," Ratchet said with irritation. "For all I knew he'd escaped and you ran off after him."

Optimus accepted his irritation with patience and took the cube of energon from the medic's hand. "I highly doubt you expected that."

Ratchet shook his helm. "Where were you, then?" he looked at the Eradicon accusingly. "You look remarkably clean."

The Vehicon glared back at him, knowing that it would be wisest to let the remark slide. Bath or no bath, he wasn't in any less danger than he'd been all those cycles ago; at the same time, he also wasn't about to stand there and go meek just for a potential energon cube. "Probably because I am clean." He didn't even want to tell him that Optimus had been his escort there, let alone the one to wash him. In truth, he wasn't sure if he believed it himself.

Ratchet glared at him for a moment before turning to Optimus. "So you've let him clean up and now you're refueling him. What's next, a pede rub? Should I grab him a spare berth mat so he can recharge comfortably? I mean we wouldn't want our captive Decepticon to be in the least bit uncomfortable."

Optimus would have preferred Ratchet to keep his comments out of the Eradicon's audioshot, but it seemed there was no stopping the medic when he was truly irritated. At least two could play this game, and he did have rank on his side. He nodded approvingly. "That's a good idea, Ratchet. If you would grab one of the berth mats out of storage, I would greatly appreciate it."

Without further delay, Optimus steered the vehicon back inside and left Ratchet gaping in the hall.

Internally, the Vehicon was gaping as well. Even in light of the strange peace he'd felt in the washroom, this was becoming too much to possibly be real. Bots who took prisoners treated them like prisoners, which he supposed to could mean any number of things, but this certainly wasn't one of them. It had to be deliberate, he thought. Some means of softening him up until he offered information willing. That was the logical answer, and would have been a clever strategy at that...it was the only reason.

"Why?" he asked, staring up at the Autobot. He listened for the sounds of Ratchet's footfalls disappearing down the hall before he went on. "Just...why? I'm not going to talk either way, so you may as well just keep me on the floor."

Optimus took out the key to the stasis cuffs and unlocked the device, setting it on a nearby storage crate. He considered the question. "It is because I am an Autobot. I've captured you, yes, and I'll do my best to learn what I can from you. But to torture information out of you would change who I am. I would no longer be able to confidently draw the line between myself and Megatron, or any other mech who ceased to hold themselves accountable for their actions. So to begin with, you are standing here untouched because I am confident in who I am. But I suppose moral obligation doesn't extend to hospitality. So why then, should I keep you off the floor?"

He thought about it, trying to answer the question in his own mind. His motivation wasn't something he could easily admit. It was a simple desire to show the soldier a few basic comforts before sending him into Megatron's merciless hold. With the Decepticon Lord, it was easily possible for him to offline the drone rather than to bother his medic with the post-interrogation repairs. He held the cube of energon and had to wonder if it might be the drone's last.

Optimus's expression had grown morose, and he shook his helm to rid himself of the mood. He held the cube out for the Vehicon to take. "Perhaps I'll leave that question unanswered."

KA-R1-302 couldn't explain the cold chill that ran across his censors as he took the energon, but he knew it didn't stem from any threat in the Autobot's demeanor. Rather, it was something in the pity he felt behind those optics...it reminded him of the med bay assistants, coming down to the drone quarters after a long, hopeless night. He did his best to hide his discomfort, giving a small shrug and rotating the stiffened cables of each wrist.

"Fair enough."

Pulling off the corner to drink, he paused to wonder about the contents - they could have very easily been tampered with. And then, just as quickly, he decided that there was no point in pondering it. If it was drugged, it was drugged; he was already here and they could just as easily do what they wished, whether or not he took the cube. With that in mind, he tipped the first portion of blue liquid into his mouth port, the smooth charge like nectar to his starved systems.

Optimus leaned against the wall and watched with mild interest as the drone refueled. He was glad, at least, that he wasn't refusing energon. That would be something Optimus wouldn't stand for, and would undoubtedly lead to a struggle and Ratchet's assistance in forced refueling. But more, it was the drone's will to live that made him glad, even if he didn't have a reason for being glad of it.

Thoughts of his character brought Optimus back to the caves, and how the drone had run from him into the darkness of an unused pathway. And that's when a thought occurred to him. He turned to face the drone. "Tell me, when I chased you from the main cave, why did you choose the direction that you had? You could have just as easily fled to the aid of fellow Eradicons, armed and in greater numbers, and yet you chose a dead end and seemingly certain death."

"I'm a Vehicon," KA-R1-302 replied simply. "When you're a Vehicon, you do what you can. If I can't shoot, then I can keep you off of the other miners' back struts while they slip away."

He took a long sip of energon, thinking of the other drones and what they would be doing just then. Normally, the answer would be recharging; however, news of any Decepticon being taken alive by Autobots was sure to spread throughout the ship and spread fast. He doubted Megatron would take the threat seriously, not for a crippled miner with no real intel to speak of, but the Vehicon rumor mill would be another story ...they didn't have to know him personally to take an interest in his situation.

Optimus' mouth parted slightly as he listened. He smiled, forgetting pretenses as he looked down at the drone admiringly. "How selfless of you."

The Vehicon paused with the cube halfway to his mouth, glancing up. "It worked, didn't it?"

"It did," Optimus agreed.

Optimus didn't know too much about Eradicons on a personal level, but he hadn't expected something like this. He had anticipated waves of anger, outbursts, struggles and attempts to escape, whether or not the captive was in any physical shape to do so. He'd expected a presence that didn't recognize its surroundings for what they were, one who remained either hostile or skittish even when they were not in obvious danger. That was what he'd experienced in his history of captive Decepticons.

Even when Commander Starscream had been in this situation, cuffed at Optimus' mercy, he'd cowered away from him on his knees, groveling pitifully and lying through his denta. But this drone stood here beside him, drinking at his own leisurely pace, having understood well enough that there was no immediate threat to his life.

Optimus tried to contain the fascination in his expression as he stood from the wall and took a step closer. "What is your name?"

The Vehicon drummed a digit lightly against the side of his energon cube. He had assumed this question would arise at some point. If anything, he'd been expecting it to come up sooner, although he wasn't sure if the Autobots were even aware of drone designations. In any case, he didn't see how offering it was detrimental to Megatron's plans. "KA-R1-302."

He resisted the urge to move away from Optimus's step forward. There was no reason to give off any additional signs of fear or discomfort; he was sure he'd displayed enough weakness already.

"KA-R1-302," Optimus repeated, puzzled with being told a designation code. "And what do your friends call you?"

The Vehicon paused, reflecting on the name his friends had given long ago, even before the accident. In happier times. "They called me Karl."

"You say it in past tense," Optimus said, "Is that because you still believe you're not going to survive here, or is it something else?" A thought occurred to him that perhaps the drone's friends had been offlined, and he drew back a step because of the likelihood that he had been the cause if it were so.

"It's both," was the reply. As nonchalant as he tried to sound, the subject of his companions was never one he liked to get into, even with the other Vehicons. "I don't like to 'believe' I'll survive any day. It just sounds presumptuous, you know? Too many things that could happen."

Gears turned in Optimus' processor. "What if it doesn't have to be that way?"

The door slid open, interrupting his train of thought.

Bulkhead stepped through the door, a berth pad slung beneath his arm. "Got some padding for our new Decepti-ohh..." Instantly, he realized his mistake. "You've, um...you've got him out of the cuffs." He quickly passed the padding to his leader, awash in an awkwardness that had nothing to do with the Vehicon staring at him.

"I thought it safe enough to let him refuel on his own, rather than doing it myself," Optimus replied. He was glad that his spontaneous thought had been cut off, which would give him time to discuss the idea with his comrades. He took the berth pad from Bulkhead and set it against the wall. "I'll leave this for you to place it where you prefer," he said to the drone before following Bulkhead to the door. "Recharge well, Karl."

The heavier Autobot was still looking at him as he left. When he was gone, the Vehicon knew that he would be left with the energon cube, the pad, and the sound of his own, still functioning spark. Whether it was some small display of defiance towards Bulkhead and his expectations or a simple matter of exchange - one small courtesy for another - Karl gave Optimus a single nod, as he would have given any fellow Vehicon who was bidding him good night.

Optimus shut the door and coded in the lock. "I know that you've only seen him for a moment or two, but you must have some opinion formed. You saw how mild-mannered he was. That's strange for a captive Decepticon, don't you agree?"

Bulkhead set his jaw hinge tight, looking the locked door over as though doubting its strength. "Do you want my honest opinion? It doesn't matter how mild-mannered he is. No prisoner's going to spend every second kicking at the walls - eventually they settle down, maybe even seem like nice bots. I think he's just waiting for his chance."

Optimus nodded, brow plating drawing together. "I am too trusting. Arcee was hurt when I chose to believe Starscream could begin again. You'd think I would learn, but here I am contemplating this drone's fate. But even so, there is something different about Ka- …this one. I want to discuss it with everyone tonight."

Bulkhead nodded. While everything about this felt deeply wrong to him, a simple discussion was just that. There would be time to argue out the Decepticon's fate later. "Arcee's on her way back right now."

Soon after, the Autobots assembled in the central room. Optimus resisted pacing before he began.

"It has been a long day for us all, but I think it's best not to postpone the discussion of the Decepticon soldier locked up downstairs. I'm sure you're all wondering just why I decide to take him, and I'll admit that it was a spontaneous move. His behavior in the caves was just different enough to intrigue me, and I thought that perhaps it would be an opportunity to gain Decepticon intelligence if we took him back with us. Even if he isn't an officer, he knows far more than we do about the daily functioning of the ship and its inhabitants. But it seems he is not as easily persuaded as I had imagined an Eradicon soldier to be. And then, the more I learned, the more potential I saw in him.

'Potential for what?' Bumblebee chirped.

Optimus knew this was when he would sound the craziest. "The potential for him to join us as an Autobot."

Somehow, it sounded even worse when it was said aloud. Bulkhead looked away, unsure of how to respond...he didn't even know where to begin.

Arcee's facial plating was indecipherable. She held up a single digit. "Optimus? Permission to speak freely?"

"Yes Arcee, of course."

"That's the stupidest idea to ever be uttered in this base." Only the direst of circumstances, with words like "Eradicon" and "join as an Autobot" being thrown about, could ever induce her to use a term such as "stupidest." She went on levelly, ignoring Bulkhead's visible wince. "Our energon reserves are still limited...it's one thing to keep a prisoner, but taking in an Eradicon permanently? Sparing the time to try and convert him? The Decepticon drones are loyal in the blindest possible way...we'd never

be able to fully trust him."

"With all due respect," Ratchet said, eyeing Arcee, "I agree with Arcee on the issues with this plan. Firstly, he's at the bottom of the ranks, and he probably won't have enough intel to make it worth our time. And you know as well as I do that Eradicons are more of a point and shoot type than a group of deep thinkers. I don't think we could reason with him. Not to mention that he is a Vehicon, and a disabled one at that. What makes you think he will last any longer with us?

"We all started somewhere," Optimus said. "When I worked in the Hall of Records I had less skill fighting than a rescue bot. Karl has years of battle behind him, and I believe proper training from one of us could make him rise to the occasion, even just on a defensive level."

"Karl?" Ratchet said incredulously. "Bulkhead, you must agree with Arcee and me on this."

Bulkhead scratched the back of his helm, clearly put on the spot. "I...get what you're saying, really. That anyone can learn to work on the battlefield, no one's completely hopeless...but...I've gotta stick with Ratchet and Arcee on this one. It's not like we've got a Con who's been helping us, ready to switch sides, and now it's just a question of letting them in. He's a prisoner who stopped kicking and screaming a little sooner than usual. We don't even know if he wants any of this."

Optimus nodded. There were so many logical reasons to change his mind, but he kept going back to the caves, remembering a lone vehicon sacrificing himself for his comrades, leading the leader of the enemy into a dead end with full knowledge that he would probably be killed. It just seemed wrong to let a mech like that slip through his fingers, to not at least make the offer. Karl was just what Optimus would want on his team. But he knew that he couldn't let his spark lead him all of the time. Even if he wanted Karl to stay, he couldn't risk his team's safety over it.

"I suppose you're right," Optimus said. "Perhaps the risk is too great."

Bumblebee let out an annoyed beep, catching their attention. 'What, nobody wants to hear my spiel? I may be the young guy, but come on.'

Arcee turned towards their youngest member, helm tilted. Bumblebee may have indeed been young, but he wasn't without a certain unique perception. Whatever his input on this situation turned out to be, chances are it would be something that the rest of them hadn't considered. And in the end, that was the reason Optimus had gathered them all here. "We're listening. You're not really in favor of keeping the Decepticon, are you?"

Bumblebee shrugged. 'I just don't think we should talk about him like he's a mindless drone. They get called that, but we all know they're not really drones. They're like any other mechs, some are clever and some aren't. They can be angry or lonely or bored, and they can even fall in love.' Bumblebee looked around at his comrades, suddenly a little embarrassed. 'I mean, I think they're probably like that. Well anyway, I think we could give this guy the option and see what happens. But it has to come with stipulations. He tells us some Decepticon intel, something he thinks would really matter, and we tell him something we don't want the Cons to know. You know? A trade.'

Arcee considered this, "Of course they aren't mindless drones. Like I said, blind loyalty...which is in a lot of ways worse. They can think and they can plan." She fully believed that the Vehicon being held below the base was doing just that - planning, even as they stood around discussing.

Bulkhead chimed in with a new line of thought. "Even if we do make him an offer...what if he's not biting? If he's too loyal to the Decepticons to consider joining us? Do we just...give up and find a way to work him over without actually hurting him?"

"That was my plan," Optimus said to Bulkhead, "My original intent was to question him and find out what we could before releasing him. After all, he could be categorized as a worker rather than a soldier now. And while doing this, he could be offered the option."

The remaining Autobots looked at one another, but at that point, there was little reason not to at least attempt the offer. Even if there had been, Optimus always had a way of making the hopeless seem brighter, the outrageous feasible, the impossible within reach.

The group dispersed for the night. As he recharged, Optimus' processor created nonsensical visions of running through the caves, searching for something and becoming lost in the process.

To be continued.