Ratchet's fingers drummed against the makeshift crate, optics concentrating on a divot in the metal that warped his reflection, making him look like the left side of his face had caved in. He looked up at Ultra Magnus- the stoic mech was standing silently in the corner, though he seemed to exude the same anxiousness Ratchet was feeling. Footsteps from down one of the tunnels got louder until two mechs emerged. The bulky red mech, Ironhide, had to duck slightly to get through the cramped portal, and behind him, a much smaller mech followed.
He was a lanky thing, lacking the bulky armor most mechs he'd seen around here had and what small amount of armor he did possess was shaped close to his frame and painted orange or white. His optics were round and bright blue and above them, two prominent ridges rested, giving his face an usually expressive quality. He smiled at Ratchet as he walked into the room and took a seat across from him, while Ironhide stayed towards the back. The red mech leaned over and muttered a word to Magnus, but Ratchet couldn't begin to hear what they said.
"Hello, Ratchet," the little orange mech said, drawing his attention back to him as he took a seat across from him. "My name is Rung."
Ratchet narrowed his optics slightly at the mech's tone- it sounded far too familiar. Automatically, his optics were drawn from the Autobot symbol on his chassis to the symbol on his shoulder, a three-quarter circle with a line reaching across the middle. "Aaah, they brought me a shrink," Ratchet said with a scowl.
Rung shook his head. "Yes, I am a trained psychologist, but that's not why I'm here. I've been put in charge of collaborating between Ultra Magnus' camp and the Wreckers. And since the Wreckers found you so near Ultra Magnus' operations, you get me," he said and held his hands out, still using that same gentle tone. It reminded Ratchet of the psych mechs that had been training at the University- every one of them had that... calming quality about them.
As much as he wanted to be annoyed, he relaxed a little. The mech was the first person here who didn't look at him like an enemy. "Do you want me to start from the beginning or just cut to the important stuff?" Ratchet asked.
Rung gave a small smile and reached into subspace. He pulled out a small recorder and set it on the table. "Let's start from the beginning- it's hard to say what's important and what isn't when you don't have the whole story," he said. Ratchet shrugged at that, though his fingers still continued their anxious tapping. The bomb Perceptor had uncovered was supposed to detonate in ten days- a few more minutes weren't going to hurt their already slim chances.
He started talking, not looking at any of the mechs in the room as he spoke. It felt like a story that he had told countless times before, though in reality, the only people who had even heard parts of it where Spec and Wheeljack. It had echoed in his processor for so long that telling it now seemed almost... hollow, like simply retelling the story wasn't enough to do it justice after he had lived it. Just as Rung had asked, he didn't leave out any details. As hard as it was, he told them everything- about Meister and Bluestreak and Soundwave and what he had had to do to keep Perceptor alive.
As the words about what he had done tumbled from his vocals, he sank down lower in his chair, almost feeling the outrage from the two mechs in the corner. Addling with memories was dangerous and highly illegal, but he had known that when he did it. He thought that admitting to what he had done would lessen the guilt, but somehow, it only made it worse. When he finally finished, it felt like his voice was about to give out and he sat hunched over the makeshift desk, afraid to look up at the three pairs of optics that bore into him.
"Ratchet," Rung said. He slowly raised his head, feeling like a pede was pressed against the back of his neck. "I want you to know that you are safe here."
The words washed over him and he closed his optics, a bit of the tension easing out of his frame as he propped his tired helm on his fingers. "Thank you," he said quietly, his sincerity emerging from his very spark.
Rung offered a small smile. "We need to know more about this bomb- as much as you can possibly recall," he said.
Ratchet gave a short, humorless laugh. "That's the thing- it's not my memory to recall. Other than what Perceptor told me, I only saw glimpses when I was going through his memory matrix," he said.
"We need that information," Ironhide said, speaking up for the first time. "You'll have to undo the damage you did."
Ratchet turned and looked at the mech in disbelief. "Let me point out to you all that is wrong with that plan," he said and slowly got to his feet. "One, that mech tried to kill himself while those memories were intact. Two, he just underwent a major surgery, excruciating pain, and then another major surgery to fix what you fragged up- he should be put into mandatory stasis for the next ten days in a CR chamber, not reliving his time in Kaon. Three, even if I wanted to fix those memories, I have no idea how! I corrupted them so they would be irretrievable! No one should have to remember all that he went through," he finished and realized that he had ascended into a yell the more he talked.
Ironhide didn't flinch. His arms crossed over his chassis and his optics narrowed. "Tough slag," he said simply. "You'll find a way to get them."
"Like pit I will," Ratchet shot back.
The red mech's mouth lifted up into a smirk, as though he had wanted Ratchet to argue. "Alright fine, now let me tell you your options," he said, voice hard. "If you refuse to try, I can say I don't believe a lick of yer story- you'll be arrested and taken to Iacon as a war criminal where you can wait and see the bomb to go off personally. If you're lucky, Iacon's defenses will be enough to stop it or your friend actually did manage to reprogram the coordinates and you'll live to go on trial for treason against Cybertron and for crimes of abusing your position as a medical professional. If yer not lucky, you die and so does every other mech in Iacon and I'll make sure you have a cell with a view so you can watch it go down."
Ratchet opened his mouth to talk, but his vocals gave an aborted hiss of static. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. In his need to keep Perceptor safe, he'd forgotten about the stakes.
He grit his dentals. "This will kill him," he said quietly. "You didn't see him after he tried to end it... there was nothing in him. I-it was like he had already died inside."
A light hand registered on his shoulder. "Then it's a good thing I'm here," Rung said. "I promise that I will help Perceptor through this."
Ratchet gave a shuddering sigh and buried his face in his hands, rubbing his optics until they registered static. "Let's get started before I decide that cell sounds preferable."
Once Ratchet had gotten a better look at what the "medical facilities" offered, he doubted it would be possible. He ignored Ironhide hovering near the exits and had to try even harder to ignore Rung, who followed him like some sort of lost turbo-puppy, offering to help at any turn. Ultra Magnus had excused himself, with the promise to return once he had sent along Ratchet's statement, though Ratchet wished he wouldn't- he had too many distractions as it was.
"This... this is pitiful," Ratchet said at last, running a hand over his helm. "You have... an outdated processor scanner, only two of the three connectors I need and only one functioning computer that is capable of creating the program I need to even think of restoring his memories, and it's in another slagging part of your base." He looked at Ironhide, his doubt clear. "I-I don't know if this is possible."
Ironhide's engine rumbled in irritation, but it seemed directed more at the situation than at Ratchet now. "We can transport yeh to a facility that has the supplies you need... but getting in an' out of Charr is dangerous and it wastes time we don' have. We have a convoy headed here tomorrow, but lifting it back out might take another day or two," he said. "Rung can help yeh however you need… but if you think it's a waste of time attempting it here, we'll focus our energy on gettin' yeh moved somewhere else."
Ratchet ran a hand over his helm, swallowing thickly. "Tampering with his memory matrix is risky, even with the proper equipment- they're not supposed to have changes made to them," he said.
Ironhide snorted. "Well, who's fault was that?" he muttered and Rung shot him a glare. The red mech shrugged but didn't say anything else, settling back against the wall again.
Rung looked at Ratchet, a long-suffering sigh escaping him. "I have quite a bit of experience with memory matrices," he said and gently pulled a hardline connection from his wrist before plugging it into the back of Perceptor's helm. "Let me have a look first and I'll give my opinion."
Ratchet nodded and stepped back, trying to cover his own discomfort. Other than Spec, he didn't trust anyone else to touch the mech, but his optics drifted back towards Rung's shoulders where his qualifications were displayed and relaxed a little. The mech had training in this area that he didn't. It was unusual for him to feel so… ignorant. Rung's expressive optics went white as he used his overrides to enter the mech's memory matrix. Instantly, a look of concern crossed his face.
"Oh... Oh goodness," he said. "You definitely did some work here- there's an entire chunk of time that's been corrupted."
Ratchet couldn't help but be a little impressed. When he'd gone into Perceptor's memory matrix, he had been overwhelmed by having to deal with an entire other set of memories on top of his own. He didn't even realize speaking was a possibility when he had been hooked in, but Rung handled it with ease, separating his mind from Perceptors with the help of long practice.
"I didn't know what else to do," Ratchet said quietly.
Rung's optics slowly cleared as he carefully extracted himself from the mech's processor. He blinked a couple of times, as though being sure he was back inside of himself before looking at Ratchet. "You did quite a job on them... but I think it's possible to recover those memories, even here," he said. "In fact, I think your friend is already getting bits and pieces of his lost time back. Just flashes, mind you, but they're coming back none-the-less. We just need to speed up that process."
Ratchet gaped at him. "How is that even possible?" he asked. "I deleted entire lines of code to make those memory files unreadable."
Rung smiled. "The processor is a fascinating thing," he said. "Just as your body has auto-repair to help seal breaks and leaks, your processor is capable of going through a very similar process. Have you ever experienced a mech with natural memory loss before? Not from repressing a traumatic event, but due to an injury?"
Ratchet frowned and shook his head. "It's... not common. We have so many lines of defense to keep our processors safe," he said.
"That's very true," Rung said. "But it does happen. And when it does, that mech's processor will try it's best to make up for the lost time. Autorepair kicks in in a different way and tries to actually patch those damaged or corrupted files. Some organic creatures I've come across experience something similar. Memory loss is a much more common occurrence among organics because of their lack of protection, and their brains will actually create false memories to make up for gaps in their own knowledge. Fortunately, we don't have to worry about that. Our autorepair has evolved to such a level that it will attempt to recover the memories for us," he said, voice high and excited. Ratchet couldn't stop a small grin. The mech certainly loved what he did, and it showed in how his face lit up with enthusiasm the more he spoke.
"I don't know much about that, but I'll take your word on it," Ratchet said. "In theory, it makes sense, but processors are your area of expertise, not mine."
Rung smiled, but Ironhide cleared his throat loudly before the psy-ops mech could speak. "This is fascinatin' an all, but we are kinda on a time crunch here," he said, no small hint of annoyance in his voice.
Rung heaved another long-suffering sigh and Ratchet had a feeling he was going to get very used to that sound in the days to come. His bright blue optics met Ratchet's and he offered a small smile. "I guess we better get started."
Under Ratchet's insistence, Perceptor stayed in stasis during their work. He told himself it was to keep the little scientist from exhausting himself while trying to help, but he knew it was purely for selfish reasons. If the young mech was awake, he would start asking questions again, and Ratchet wasn't in any mindset to be able to answer them. Even as they made progress, tweaking the files and lines of code, Ratchet wasn't sure what he was going to do when they finally brought Perceptor back online.
It was tiring, meticulous work, but they jumped right into it. Ratchet ignored the fact that he hadn't slept or had a meal since he'd left Kaon and helped Rung get Perceptor hooked up to the functioning console in Ultra Magnus' makeshift office. They had simply rolled Perceptor's medberth into the small alcove before wheeling in the rest of the supplies they needed. It only took a few breems to get everything hooked up, but the real work had only just begun.
They worked steadily, one of them hooked directly to Perceptor, the other hooked to the console to help guide the makeshift program through his mind. One slip and they could risk corrupting more of the mech's memories, or even damaging the sensitive workings of his processor. Fortunately, Ratchet realized he could trust Rung- the gentle mech knew what he was doing and he found a fascination with it that kept him going, even long after Ratchet had worn himself out.
"You should rest," Rung said. It was hard not to notice Ratchet staring blankly at the processor readouts for nearly a full breem. "You've had a very long day."
Ratchet gave a short laugh at the understatement and rubbed his optics, as he slowly drifted out of his daze. A part of him realized it had been two full cycles since he'd recharged last. "I don't want to leave this to you to do alone," he said hesitantly.
Rung offered a kind smile. "I can handle it," he said. "Besides, I should have made you recharge a long time ago. I... get absorbed in projects easily." When Ratchet still looked hesitant, Rung said and motioned to the cot in the corner, "If it will make you feel better, you can rest there. I doubt Ultra Magnus will mind."
Ratchet looked at the other mech and saw the gentle worry on his face. He couldn't stop a small smile and felt himself relax a little further, his exhaustion catching up to him fully. He hadn't had anyone look at him with that expression in a long time and something about it triggered a memory from long ago. They were safe here.
Suddenly, it was all he could do to keep his optics online. "Thank you," he said sincerely and stumbled over to the cot. It was over-sized, big enough to fit a mech like Magnus and as soon as Ratchet's helm hit the recharge pad, he slept.
He slept like a dead mech, like the comings and goings of mechs didn't exist. He was oblivious to everything- to Ironhide scowling as he caught sight of him, to Rung's occasional checkups as he took breaks from his work and from Ultra Magnus' surprised face as he came in to find his cot already occupied. He didn't even notice when a familiar face walked through the door, though now his paint job had been inverted and his visor glowed a dark blue.
"Yup, that's him," Jazz said, a small surprised laugh escaping him. "Holy slag."
Ironhide snorted, fingers drumming against his arm. "He mentioned a mech by th' name of Meister," he said and looked at the other mech flatly, keeping his voice down even as he glanced over his shoulder at Rung. The mech was so absorbed in his work, imbedded so deeply in Perceptor's processor that he didn't hear a word they said. "Wonder where he mighta met someone like that? Especially when that someone's supposed to be dealing with Soundwave and valuable intel, not some youngling medic."
Jazz looked at Ironhide and offered a cheeky grin. "I found something more interesting," he said.
Ironhide watched him out of the corner of his optic. "Be straight with me," he said. "How much did you know about this bomb?"
Jazz let out a long sigh. "Guess we'll find out when that mech's memories come back," he said. "I hope I knew enough to at least get the security system up to par. If not... it's gonna be a scary couple of days."
"Tell me about it," Ironhide muttered. "Prime's talkin' a full evac. It's gonna be a nightmare. If this bomb is all a ruse, it's a slagging good one. Even if it doesn't exist, it's going to knock us off our game. It's already diverted a lot of plans."
Jazz ran a hand over his helm. "We've already lost the rest of Tarn... we've lost Charr too, no matter how much Magnus doesn't want to admit it. We need to fall back, regroup. We can't keep spreading our forces out to stay on the defensive," he said and shook his head. "But those are issues I let Prowl and his team deal with," he added with a lopsided grin. "Thinking too big-picture makes my head hurt."
Ironhide simply nodded. His optics were far away as he lost himself in thought before they drifted down to look at Ratchet once again. "What do you think we should do with him?" he asked.
Jazz chuckled. "Hire him, bribe him, whatever way you can to get him on our side," he said. "If that mech can pick me out as something unusual from my slagging maintenance updates he's worth keeping around."
Ironhide smirked. "Found his statement a little interesting did ya? I'm guessing that's why yeh caught a lift from Iacon to come here?" he asked.
"It wasn't the only reason," he said, face carefully blank.
A silence stretched between them and Ironhide finally broke it with a scowl. "Fine, keep yer secrets," he said. "Just don't do anything stupid."
Jazz grinned. "I never do."