Wolf By the Ears Chapter 8
Well, I did say the next chapter wouldn't take so long, though that's admittedly setting the bar pretty low. I finally saw Transformers: Dark of the Moon on Friday, and I'm trying to resist the urge to rain fix-fic all over the plot. Such as it was.
He woke to pain, though he had certainly had worse, he had definitely never had worse at the hands of an organic smaller than his servo. According to his chrono, he had only been out for nanosecs, but he was still impressed.
Of course, by the time he had processed all this, his combat programming had already pried him out of the wall, rolled him to his stabilizers and sent him into a fighting stance. He was reaching for non-existent weapons and trying to pinpoint the threat when a commanding voice was ordering him to stand down.
To his momentary surprise, he actually did so, then remembered why and nearly snarled aloud. Frag, he hated the slave coding with every wire and neurofiber he possessed.
"Megatron, are you severely damaged?" The young Prime asked. He hadn't drawn his own weapon, but was obviously more than ready for trouble. He made a quickly aborted motion, as if to run his servos over Megatron's scorched chest plating. Were all Autobots this touchy-feely, or had he just gotten lucky?
"I have most assuredly had worse." He answered. "I admit to being somewhat impressed at the child Sumdac's power. Perhaps I underestimated your little crew's abilities."
"You always did, didn't you? The Prime said, his voice cold. Apparently he was not amused. Oh well. He could certainly handle a beating from his master for taunting his troops. The mech was protective of the young bots, and probably didn't like Megatron fragging them off enough to damage Omega Supreme.
Speaking of whom…The medic was inspecting the damage to the walls, and practically petting the living plating. "Sari!" He yelled. "You can't just let your power go like that! You could have really hurt Omega!"
How…sweet. An Autobot field tech and his pet war machine.
"Besides, you can't just blast mech's for talkin', even if they're evil Decepticon jerks who clearly have mulch in their processor cores!"
…Stupid autoscum.
"Sari, I am Very Dissapointed in you." Said the Prime. "You cannot abuse the power the Allspark gave you in such a manner. You just attacked an unarmed mech and damaged a friend and ally."
"But Optimus!"
"No buts, Sari. I want you to go to your room and think about what you just did, and I expect you to apologize to both Megatron and Omega tomorrow."
"Yes, Optimus." The child said, her shoulders slumping. "I'm really sorry, Omega. I forgot you could get hurt, too."
"I forgive you, Sari." The deep voice rumbled out of nowhere. "But you should not attack captured opponents. It is a very un-Autobot thing to do."
"Yes Omega, I'm sorry." The human(ish) child said. Then, to his shock, she turned towards Megatron and apologized to him as well! "I'm sorry I blasted you. You're an evil jerk, but you're Optimus's evil jerk, and I shouldn't have hurt you." Then the little techno organic spread her winglets and sped down the hallway, dwarfed by its Cybertronian dimensions.
Megaton was distracted from the little melodrama by the Prime, who was looking at him with far more concern than was logical. The two of them had slagged each other halfway to the Pit only a short time ago, after all. The medic paused his ministrations and ordered them to the ship's medbay, grumbling about half-clocked idiots.
Optimus felt a processor ache developing. He hadn't exactly expected his team to welcome Megatron with open arms, but he had assumed that no one would break out the heavy firepower until at least the second meeting.
At least the Decepticon had obeyed his order to stand down. And Sari hadn't lost control of her power and created massive destruction. And neither Bulkhead or Bumblebee had done anything too embarrassing, though Bulkhead had acted like Optimus was a young bot who had brought an unsuitable and delinquent suitor home to meet his mentors.
It could have been worse, he supposed. Omega was fine, Sari had apologized, and Megatron had actually seemed mildly impressed. He hadn't even taunted any of them for the last few breems.
Optimus was towing his big, spiky, scary charge down the corridor to Omega Supreme's small, multipurpose med bay. It was always odd to think that they had lived for so long on this ship as they made their way from one Space Bridge installation to another, doing maintenance and removing debris without anyone but Ratchet knowing that their vehicle was an unconscious sentient.
He abruptly became aware that the gunmetal grey armor under his servos was warm and alive with a powerful energy field. He let go like the Decepticon's arm had burned him. The big mech gave him an odd look for his pains.
He gave his charge a rather curt order to sit on the medical berth and eyed the damage critically. He was no Ratchet, but he did know basic first aid. It looked mostly superficial, but the big mech had been very still for a moment there after Sari's blast. He'd wait until the real medic arrived before relaxing completely.
The Con needed an overhaul, various joints realigned, a few minor components replaced, and a complete repaint.
At least his spark wasn't showing any more distress than could be expected. He would have to corner Optimus and ask him how his end of the bond felt. Naturally he would wait until Megatron wasn't in the room. Even Ratchet wasn't that tactless.
Given Optimus's slightly guilty look, he was willing to bet he hadn't recharged next to the Decepticon last night. He hadn't actually expected the two of them to comply with that particular medical directive just yet. He wouldn't want to be unaware in Megatron's presence, either. Besides, he knew his young leader well enough to guess that Optimus was feeling extremely guilty about the slave bonding, and having forced himself on another mech. That was going to take some time for the two of them to get over. Ideally, Megatron would either forgive Prime, or jump his struts.
From the look of the two of them, the strut-jumping part was inevitable. The tension between them had always been noticeable, and they were in a spark-level bond, for all that it wasn't a True Bond.
Ratchet might be old, but he wasn't blind or stupid. Optimus was gorgeous, kind and brave. Everything that Megatron's previous master hadn't been, from what he'd gathered. Oh, the mech had been physically attractive, but it only took a little digging to make it abundantly clear that he had been a piece of worthless pitslag. The thought of someone like that with another sentient being as a slave made him want to purge his tanks.
He finished recalibrating the large spiky knee joint he had been working on, and told the mech attached to it to try it out. Megatron did so. He wasn't showing nearly as much aggression as he had been yesterday. He also wasn't bitching about getting orders from a piece of Autobot scum. Optimus was leaning against one wall of the tiny, cramped medical bay in case he had to give the Con an order to be cooperative, but it hadn't been necessary. Huh, the Decepticon Leader was a good patient.
"My thanks, medic." The dark, sinister voice said.
Ratchet's lower mandible nearly hit the deck plates. Now that was unexpected. "You're uh, welcome." He answered. The fagging Decepticon war machine was more gracious about getting medical care than his own team.
Huh.
Megatron had been left alone in a small room aboard Omega Supreme that looked like it had been the crew's recreation area. There were far more personal touches about the interior of the great ship than were evident in the little Prime's quarters, he noticed.
Of course, the Autobot team had been a Space Bridge maintenance and repair crew, and had undoubtedly spent far more time here on the living ship than on Cybertron. There were more than a few traces of Earth, as well. Next to the wall-mounted vid screen was a semblance of an organic tree, carefully crafted out of wire and tiny crystalline stones. It was a very un-Elite Guard object for such a ship.
He wandered over to inspect it.
"It belonged to Prowl." Said the deep voice of Omega Supreme. "He made it out of scraps of wire and bits of quartzite. He did not think that an actual organic plant could travel safely to Cybertron."
"The cyberninja? I always wondered how he came to be with this crew." Megatron said. It could only be worthwhile to learn about these bots. "It seems an unlikely station for one of the legendary Yoketron's star pupils."
"I was not conscious at the time, but my records show that my crew discovered Prowl as he meditated on a dwarf planet, near a bridge that required maintenance" said the living ship.
"Probably one of the Cyberninja's quaint customs." Megatron murmured. "Yoketron was always eccentric, and he passed such things on to his students. I have a few of them among my Decepticons. A shame he did not survive. He was a worthy warrior, for an Autobot."
"Autobots can be warriors." The ship said. "Some of us are even built so."
"So you are content, to have been created as a war machine, meant to rain destruction down upon the Autobots' enemies?" Asked Megatron. He was actually interested in the answer. A few of his contemporaries had actually managed to successfully integrate into Autobot society, once upon a time. He had always wondered how they had accomplished such a thing, when so many of his kind had been unable to master civilian life.
"I understand now that I was very lucky to have Ratchet as a friend, when I first came online." The ship said, his tone thoughtful. "I may wish to have been sparked into a normal mech shell, on occasion, and I definitely wish to know what existence in peacetime is like, but I enjoy traveling among the stars, and having my friends in my care. I am honored to be a protector, and not simply a weapon."
His little information-gathering mission was interrupted when the Prime arrived to collect him, and herded him to the washracks. The medic had replaced a few parts, reconnected a few wires and conduits, which only left his plating. He probably needed a full repaint to look truly presentable, but he rather doubted that the Autobots wanted to spend today waiting for coats of primer and enamel to dry.
Well, he had experienced worse fates than those surprisingly gentle servos rubbing cleanser into his scorched plating.
For the second time in as many days, he was sharing a washrack with his enemy, and finding it a struggle to stay appropriate about it. Optimus was trying not to obviously let his servos linger on Megatron's scarred plating. He was glad the Decepticon leader wasn't so tense this time. It had made him feel guilty, like he was molesting his captive, instead of caring for his injuries.
They were both slick with condensation from the steam, the hot cleanser raining down on them as they awkwardly maneuvered in the cramped space. It was much smaller than the cleansing facility in Optimus's apartment, and he couldn't help but notice the intimacy of their EM fields twining together in the small chamber.
Megatron really needed a full repaint. He would have to use the facility at Elite headquarters, because no way was he strolling into some civilian beautician and bodywork shop with the fragging lord of the Decepticons in tow. They'd probably give somebot a spark attack.
He was really angry with Sari for attacking the mech. She knew better than that, even if she was just a child still. She had far too much power to be acting like an impulsive sparkling. It was dangerous, both to her and everyone around her.
They weren't keeping her powers secret, precisely, but they weren't trumpeting them or her techno-organic nature to the planet, either. It just didn't seem…wise.
Optimus scrubbed gently at the singed chest plating. He was perfectly aware that his Decepticon could do this himself, but frankly he wanted to make a point. The fragger was part of their unit now, and he was going to have to get used to them. He did not need to have Megatron takining verbal stabs at his teammates whenever he encountered them, and figured a good first step was to get him used to being close to Autobots in a non- trying to destroy one another sort of way. It was…desensitization.
The fact that he was also kind of enjoying it was immaterial.
Optics the color of a dying star stared down at him in irritation. "So concerned about my well-being, master?" He asked sardonically. "Afraid that the Council will punish you for breaking your new toy?"
Optimus barely held in a sigh. Irritating old rust-bucket. "We both know you're tougher than that, Megatron. You can take a hit from the Magnus Hammer, you'll shrug off a blast from Sari too. That doesn't mean you don't need maintenance. The Council decided to place you in my care, I'm not going to do a half-aft job of it. You're getting repaired, cleaned and detailed, and you're just going to have to get used to having filthy Autobot servos on your chassis. Deal with it."
"A fate worse than deactivation, I am sure." Was the sardonic reply.