Who would guess getting in the habit of writing 1,667 words a day would make chapters come out quicker!
The device on the back of his helm sparked again, keeping his optics and audios offline. Vaguely, he realized that it was blocking his Comm. and GPS systems as well, but that was a far lesser worry than the fact that he currently couldn't see or hear slag. He stumbled and a hand grabbed his shoulder to steady him before leading him on, steering him right and then left and then right again- or at least he thought. It was almost impossible to tell, and he knew that was the point.
The journey took longer than expected, or maybe it just felt that way. His chronometer was disabled as well and the passage of time seemed to stretch. Suddenly, the hand on his shoulder was back and something kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to kneel. A hand on his helm and then the world came rushing back.
The light nearly blinded him and the sudden audio feed made him gasp and cringe, head ducked low as though that would somehow help avoid the sensory onslaught. The buzzing slowly subsided and distinct voices started to register.
"-found him and his buddy skulkin' around through the tunnels under Decepticon lines," a gruff voice said and Ratchet blinked, recognizing the voice of the red mech that had put the inhibitor on him in the tunnels, even without being able to properly see him. "The medic had shot and killed Backdraft before we even realized he was there."
"And his friend?" another voice asked. Ratchet blinked and his vision slowly cleared. The red mech was talking to a tall red, white and blue mech that had audial towers rising up proudly from his helm. Neither appeared to pay him any attention so Ratchet looked around, trying to get a bearing on where he'd been taken. They were in a camp of some sort and judging by the rusted and corroded metal above them, they were still in the tunnels somewhere. Crates of supplies made up one entire wall, and in front of it, a makeshift desk of an empty crate was stacked with maps and datapads. Perceptor was nowhere to be seen.
"No insignia," the red mech said. "We're doing a check on him now."
"Where is he? Where's Perceptor?" Ratchet asked and tried to get to his feet only to have a heavy hand from behind hold him down.
The two mechs looked at him in unison and neither looked pleased at being interrupted. Ratchet sank down a little lower, regretting the decision instantly as he saw the very big guys the mechs had at their sides for easy access.
"Yer friend collapsed halfway through the tunnels," the red mech said at last. "One of our medibots are seeing to him."
Ratchet felt a rush of panic up his spine. That was not good. "Please," he said quickly. "He's had a recent tank replacement- he's in danger of the tank breaking off at the weld lines. If he collapsed, it may have already happened! He needs a specialist!"
The red mech snorted. "And you're a specialist, are you?" he asked, his optics looking him over derisively.
Ratchet struggled to his feet, throwing his shoulder back to dislodge the hand that tried to hold him in place. "Yes, I am!" he snapped. "My name is Ratchet, I'm a graduate of the Praxus University of Medicine and Technology and my friend will die if I don't get him the proper treatment!" The red mech scoffed, looking at Ratchet like he was worth less than the scum on the bottom of his pede. Ratchet took a step forward, anger tightening his armor close to his frame. "I've gotten us too far to let you get in the way of his safety!"
The red mech had a hand on his gun, a dark scowl on his face. "Mech, I ain't letting you anywhere," he growled and closed the short distance between them. Ratchet stood his ground, even as the mech came chassis to chassis with him. He found that the other was only a couple inches taller than him and he met his optics unwaveringly, lips drawn into a flat, stubborn line. "You killed one of my mechs, Decepticreep. The only reason I didn't shoot you dead on sight is because of those," he said and flicked the red cross on Ratchet's shoulder.
Ratchet bared his dentals. "I am not a Decepticon," he growled. He looked down at his chassis and dragged his fingers through the insignia, causing the cheap paint to fleck off under his digits. "I was press-ganged into the Decepticons after they took Praxus. I'm a Neutral and I want no part of your war!"
The red mech glared at him, optics narrowed into icy slits. The red and blue mech put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back a step. "He's not going anywhere, Ironhide," he muttered. "And we got the report from command- his story is plausible."
The mech named Ironhide sneered, his optics never leaving Ratchet's. "It's your camp, Magnus. Do what you want," he snapped. He pointed a finger at Ratchet, poking the glass of his chassis. "I'm watching you, mech. One misstep and I'll send you to meet Backdraft personally."
Ratchet returned the glare as the red mech brushed past him. Ultra Magnus watched him go before looking at Ratchet, uncertainty clear on his face. The internal debate lasted for only a moment.
"Empty your subspace pockets," he ordered.
Ratchet did as he was asked without hesitation. They were wasting time! He dropped the emergency medical kit and energon rations he'd been given back at the Decepticon camp, as well as a few old datapads and the collar that had been around Perceptor's neck as well as the unlocking device Spec had given him. He hesitated on the collar and unlocking device before handing them to the mech. "Take these to one of your mechs to look at- there are more like us still stuck in Kaon HQ. That device is the only way to get the collars off without killing them," he said.
Magnus didn't say anything, but he took the items from Ratchet and stored them in his own subspace. He hoped that was a good sign. The mech nodded to the guard behind Ratchet and put a strong hand on his shoulder, steering him down one of the tunnels that led from the room. He kept Ratchet in front of him and the young medic could almost feel his optics boring into his back as he told him which tunnels to take with a quiet word.
They turned one last corner and before the makeshift med-tent even came into sight, Ratchet could hear Perceptor screaming. Without even thinking, he ran, jerking out from under Magnus' hand and sprinting down the tunnel. He emerged into a brightly lit med-tent and found Perceptor lying on one of the berths, a small cluster of mechs surrounding him. A small femme was spouting orders, but just by listening to her frantic words, he realized she had no idea what she was doing. Vaguely, he heard Ultra Magnus yell something, but he ignored him as he rushed to the berth.
"Out of my way!" he barked and shoved a mech aside to get a look at Perceptor. Already, they had him hooked up to a monitor and his readings fluctuated wildly. It was only when he looked at his abdomen, that he saw the trail of coolant leaking out from under his armor. He prayed it was just what he'd ingested earlier and not a torn line.
"I need a sedative, now!" he shouted and pulled the table of tools closer, praying that they were clean. He removed his friend's abdominal armor with practiced ease, seeing that the newly replaced tank had cracked along the weld lines, causing a dangerous leak as well as screaming pain. Fortunately, it hadn't detached entirely- that would have caused so much internal damage, torn so many important energon and coolant lines out of place that he probably wouldn't have survived. He couldn't help but feel relieved, even though Perceptor's pained screams made him cringe.
Perceptor weakly gripped his shoulder, trying to push him away. "I know, I know it hurts Perce," Ratchet said and hurried to deaden the sensors even as the femme injected a sedative into the main line in Perceptor's neck. The hands on his shoulder lost more and more of their strength until Perceptor slumped against the berth, his optics dim. Nothing more than quiet whimpers escaped his vocals as Ratchet worked to clean and re-set the repair. Fortunately, the replacement tank hadn't cracked and it was a matter of thoroughly cleaning the area before resealing it back into place and welding it closed once more. He gave the mech both an energon and a coolant drip before he finally relaxed, leaning against the berth tiredly.
The bay around him felt too quiet and he glanced up, glaring around at the other medics. "What?" he snapped, too tired for good manners.
The femme who had helped him took a tentative step forward. "You're professionally trained- I mean, not a combat medic, you're a doctor- a surgeon," she said, her voice quiet as she offered a rag to him.
Ratchet looked at the femme before glancing around the rest of the med tent. "Yes... I was trained at the Praxus University of Medicine. I trained as a general practitioner before I went back into residency to become a surgeon," he said and took the rag gratefully, wiping the coolant from his hands. As his optics scanned the room, his hands froze. Every mech in the room, every one had an Autobot marking, but not a one of them had their stripes.
For a moment, he was dumbstruck. He had spent enough time at Kaon HQ to know that even the Decepticons trained their combat medics to the level of giving them their stripes. Granted, those standards weren't what the University in Praxus required, but it was at least adequate. If they didn't have their stripes, they at least had a certified physician coaching them through their work- usually that had been Spec or one of the other time-hardened medics.
"You... you don't have an overseeing physician here?" Ratchet asked and looked at Ultra Magnus, his shock showing on his face.
Ultra Magnus stepped forward. "We... are understaffed," he said. "Charr has been designated a dead end from the Council and Autobot High Command. We have a few medics in the trenches but due to the conditions of the battlefield... downed mechs usually stay down." He didn't look at all happy with it, even as he said.
Ratchet gaped. "Set up a convoy system, for Primus sake!" he said. "That's what the Decepticons have done! They have a facility set up at the back of their camp and use a convoy system through the tunnels that are each manned with a trained medic! They stabilize them on the convoy and hand them off to what may as well be a fully stocked facility and get them back up to die another day in your slagged war!"
Magnus' expression darkened. "You think we haven't tried that?" he asked. "Even if we could set up some sort of convoy, we don't have enough trained staff to help stabilize injured mechs. They'd be dead before they go here."
Ratchet rolled his optics and held his arms wide. "Then I'm your Primus-sent gift aren't I?" he snapped. He was so tired of death, so tired of pain and suffering that hearing this mech, this commander say there was nothing to be done, made his energon boil. "After over 14 vorns of practice alone, I think I have the qualifications to train your mechs."
Magnus looked at him, face unreadable as he crossed his arms over his chassis. "Why would you help us, Decepticon?" he asked.
Ratchet wanted to slap him. "I am NOT a DECEPTICON!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with anger. He sent his general identification to the mech over an open channel, letting everyone in the room see it. "I was kidnapped from Praxus right before the Decepticons burned it to the ground! Why the PIT would I have any loyalty to them after what they've done?"
Ultra Magnus opened his mouth to speak, but Ratchet cut him off, gaining a horrified gasp from the mechs that were watching. "No, I'm done being silenced! I spent six meta-cycles in Kaon HQ wearing a slave collar and living in fear of getting fried if I stepped out of line! And what did the Autobots do? NOTHING. No, I feel no loyalty to your cause either- not after you left us to rot there, let my friends get killed and raped and tortured all in the name of your war!" He ran an agitated hand over his helm, his optics so bright they were almost white as it all spilled out.
"The only reason I'm offering to help?" He gave a small, broken laugh. "I'm tired of seeing mechs die. I'm tired of the destruction your war is causing, of the senseless waste of life. And you," he said, pointing at Ultra Magnus. "You would send them out there to do it knowing DAMN well that they won't be coming back and you won't even try to save them? I met monsters and murderers in Kaon but I have never met a coward like you."
He sat down on a stool next to Perceptor's berth, his knees suddenly weak, his helm aching. Cradling his helm in his hand, he shuttered his optics, a long, low sigh escaping him. It was the only sound other than the beeping of Perceptor's monitor that broke the horrified silence of the room.
"No one," Ultra Magnus said, "has ever spoken to me that way."
Ratchet looked up at the tall mech, his optics hard. "Maybe it was due time then," he said.
Ultra Magnus stared down at him, as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of this crazed mech. He finally turned to one of the mechs in the room. "Find Ironhide," he said. "Get his psy-ops mech in here. I want him to get a full statement from this mech to send along to command."
"Yes sir, Ultra Magnus" the mech said, throwing an expert salute.
Ultra Magnus looked back at Ratchet, arms crossed over his chassis. Ratchet turned his back on him and looked down at Perceptor. The sedatives had taken full hold a while ago, and the mech was recharging peacefully. Rest was all he needed now.
"Do you have contacts in Iacon, Ultra Magnus?" Ratchet asked after a quiet moment.
"I have contacts to the Prime himself," the mech rumbled, no small amount of irritation in his voice.
Ratchet nodded. "Good," he said. "You will want to listen to my statement as well. This information needs to get to the right hands, before it's too late."