I'm trying to pump out chapters quickly this month and the reason for this is starting in May, I'm going to be going back to school and I have a feeling I'm not going to have much time for writing. BUT, I'm hoping to have an intermission of sorts before then, though I can't make any promises. Thanks again for your watches, favs and comments, you guys are awesome!
"Put a clamp on those lines, seal it with a patch and send him back to base for further repairs, Ratchet barked and the medbot, Rift was his name, hurried to obey. "You," he said, pointing at a soldier with a simple shoulder injury. "You help him get there." The mech nodded and crouched down, putting his good hand on the mech's shoulder while Rift carried out his instructions. The soldier had had his left leg blown off by a landmine, and served as a grim warning for the rest of the Autobots that searched the area.
Not many Decepticons had stayed since the explosion, but those that did hadn't gone down without a fight, and Ratchet was helping patch up the injuries, instructing his four medbots on what to do when they came across something out of their league. A part of him felt bad about tossing them into the brawl without having a chance to train them up first, but their impeccable ability to follow orders came in handy with the cut and dry injuries he was seeing.
Laser wounds were the most prominent, acid pellet burns a quick second. The Decepticons had fortified their lines with landmines, but a mech who looked close enough could detect the irregularities in the ground before stepping on them- especially after this young solider had taken the first hit to warn the rest of them.
"Whelp, they're not outta Charr, but we scared 'em back," Ironhide said as he caught up to Ratchet. "Not to mention, that blast took out a big chunk of their firepower and mechpower- if they ain't plannin' on abandoning their operation, it'll take them awhile to get re-supplied. We won't let 'em get that far though," he added with a rather cruel smirk.
Ratchet didn't say anything, his lips pressed into a thin line. He still couldn't understand how anyone could get enjoyment out of such destruction. In a way, it was like seeing some of the mechs in Kaon all over again. He pushed that unnerving thought aside as Ironhide asked, "How are repairs going? What do you need from me?"
Ratchet sighed and looked around. "I need more mechs to help take the injured and casualties back to base," he said through a sigh. "There aren't many we couldn't help, but I want to see the unlucky ones off to the Well. I don't give a slag what Autobot protocol is, but I still intend to show respect to the fallen."
Ironhide tsked. "Yeh underestimate us- we never leave our dead. We ain't no Cons," he said, offended. "They deserve better than that for what they did here."
Ratchet let out a noncommittal grunt. "I want to sweep the area- be sure there's no mech lying hurt in a trench somewhere," he said.
"I'll send a squad out," Ironhide said. "They'll sweep and report to you with what they find. Any conscious mech will send out an emergency ping, but there might be some not as well off. I'll escort ya."
Ratchet looked at him in surprise. "Escort me?" he repeated.
"Medics are still a scarce thing around Charr- especially good ones," Ironhide said. "Worst case, you run into a Con straggler and he shoots yeh. Best case, you find yourself cuffed and taken back to Kaon."
Ratchet blanched at the thought before looking towards the rubble on the ground. He had to kick over a few pieces of scrap before he found a pistol, dropped from the hands of a dead Decepticon. He picked it up and tested it against the ground, loosing off a shot to be sure it still worked. He stored it in subspace before nodding to Ironhide. "Let's go."
As he took point, he didn't get a chance to see the look of approval on the red mech's face. Ironhide's comm. clicked on. "Alright, Jarix squad with me. Sweep the area for injured. Kill hostiles- if they surrender first, take 'em to the convoy."
Ratchet got on his comm. as well. "Rift, Crankdown and Forcep, I want you to split off with Jarix squad. Split into three groups, we'll cover more ground that way. Jinx, stay behind and be sure injured mechs are being escorted back to base." A chorus of affirmatives rang through his comm. and Ratchet relaxed a little. The worst was over. Now it was just time for cleanup. Carefully, they picked their way through the ruined lines, cautious as to where they stepped. The ground was more unstable now after the explosion—the tunnels that ran beneath them far too easy to put a foot into.
"What do you do with prisoners?" Ratchet asked after a moment.
Ironhide carefully stepped over a pile of rubble as he followed Ratchet, his gun still clutched and ready in his hands. "We send 'em to a camp," he said. "I'm calling it a POW camp, though the higher ups don't want to admit that it's gotten to that level. They're calling it a prison camp for now. They still think this is just a rebellion- something that can be shot down by the Enforcers with a little help from the Northern military, but I'm saying they're wrong." He sighed and shook his head, stepping over a smoking pile of rubble. "This is war. The Cons aren't gonna stop and the sooner the mechs on top realize that, the better."
Ratchet made a noise of disgust. "Zeta Prime's a fool," he muttered. "Anyone with functioning optics can see that this is more than just a rebellion."
"Zeta is... distanced from all this," Ironhide muttered. "He's not seeing it like we are. Things look very different when you're readin' 'em off a datapad."
"It'd do him good to take the trip," Ratchet muttered and continued to pick his way through the rubble. They got closer to the epicenter of the explosion, picking carefully through the smoldering wreckage it had left in its wake. Ratchet's foot clipped a piece of shrapnel and flipped it over to reveal the red medic's cross painted on the front. He looked around, optics wide as he saw the ruined remains of med crates and supplies, as well as the half-melted med berths. "Oh Primus," he whispered. He had stood at this spot just a few days earlier. What would have happened if he and Perceptor hadn't escaped?
His optics glossed over the remains of the mechs that had been there- a flash of grey armor, a black optic. A part of him wondered when he had become so desensitized towards the slaughter, why he didn't feel sick to his tanks at the sight like he used to. He sighed sadly and trudged on, optics and sensors alert for any signs of life.
His foot landed on an uneven piece of ground and nearly rolled, causing him to stumble. His heavy tread was enough to crack the ground beneath him, sending his foot straight through, the rest of him quick on its way to follow. Ironhide swore and grabbed his hand, catching him before he tumbled the rest of the way into the tunnel.
"Y'alright?" he asked. Ratchet nodded, holding onto the mech as tightly as he could. He dared to look down, seeing his foot disappearing into the darkness below. Ironhide grunted and heaved him back out of the hole, setting him back on sturdy ground once more. "This place was too close—I don't know if anyone could have survived this close to the blast seat. It's not safe with the ground crumbling like it is."
Ratchet ran a shaking hand over his helm as he looked at the destruction ahead of him. There was still so much that was unsearched, though a part of him knew Ironhide was right. Eventually, they'd run into where the Cons were trying to regroup and they didn't have the mechpower to fight them off as they were.
"Just a little further," he insisted, something in his tanks telling him to search just a little further. He was careful to watch his every step, testing the ground before he put his foot down, but even so, he must have set off the delicate balance of a pile of scrap, because it fell, crashing into the ground with a clatter. He winced at the noise as it cut through the quiet crackling of the flames.
"Please, don't shoot," a voice called out. Both Ratchet and Ironhide jumped, turning their attention and weapons towards the source. "I'm unarmed, please, please don't shoot."
"Show yourself!" Ironhide barked, optics scanning the ruined landscape for any sign of the mech.
A shaking figure slowly raised himself from behind a pile of rubble, hands lifted to the air. "I don't want any trouble," the mech said, his voice slowly fading into shocked silence as he turned to face them. The mech's mouth dropped open, like his vents suddenly weren't drawing in enough air. One helm fin had been blown off, his armor had been reinforced and he was covered from head to foot in soot, but nothing could cover up the fact that Wheeljack had just risen out of the ashes.
Ratchet didn't say a word. He dropped his gun and walked towards the mech before yanking him into a fierce hug. Wheeljack let out a sound of relief, somewhere between a laugh and a cry of joy. His friend's legs were shaking so badly that he could hardly stand and Ratchet sank to the ground with him, not willing to let go. Wheeljack returned the embrace, holding Ratchet until he thought his armor would bend. For a long moment neither of them said a word. They didn't need to. The relief was palpable and Ratchet suddenly no longer felt so alone.
"Your friend in the medbay- Spec told me that you had gone to Charr," Wheeljack said at last, his voice cracking. Ratchet reluctantly loosened his grip, holding his friend at arm's length to look him over for any injuries he might have missed. It was a miracle he'd survived this close to the blast seat, let alone as unscathed as he was. Relatively speaking. "I volunteered to bring a new weapon here, and when I asked about you, they said that you'd gone AWOL. Disappeared into the tunnels."
Ratchet could feel his friend shaking and gave an unsteady laugh as he peered at his ruined helm fin. "Can it really be considered AWOL when I never joined in the first place?" he wondered.
Wheeljack gave a short bark of a laugh, his optics still wide with shock as he looked at him. "Primus, I can't believe you're here- you're alive!" he said, his vents working hard to keep him cool. "After Spec said you'd been sent to Charr I just thought—"
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Ratchet said as he felt his friend's tremors worsen. His friend was undoubtedly in shock- anyone would be after being so close to that explosion and surviving. Ratchet would even bet that this had been Wheeljack's first taste of what a battlefield could look like. "Jack, you're safe now. This," he looks over his shoulder at the red mech who, thankfully, had stayed back, "is Ironhide. He's an Autobot. He found me and Perceptor in the tunnels and took us in."
Behind him, he heard Ironhide's quiet snort at the simplification. Wheeljack's optics brightened. "Perceptor? Oh Primus, he's alright?" he asked.
Ratchet's smile was strained as he plugged his scanner into the mech's wrist. "He's not hurt," he said. "He's safe at the Autobot's base. I'll... I'll tell you the whole story when we get you there. Ironhide, this is Wheeljack. He's one of the ones taken from Praxus." His quick scan finished, showing an accelerated energon circulation rate and shortwave fluctuations of spark energy. "We're gonna take you back to the Autobot base, okay? You're having a stress reaction. It's perfectly normal, alright? You're going to be fine, just take a few deep breaths."
Wheeljack's vents opened up wide and he nodded, his optics glazed and unfocused, like he was seeing something the rest of them couldn't.
Ironhide stepped forward, only sparing the Decepticon insignia on his chassis a quick glance before offering a hand, carefully helping the mech to his feet. "We've heard about you," he said and glanced at Ratchet. "Glad to see you're alright- that explosion that took out this area was somethin' else."
Wheeljack's optics brightened as he got to his feet and he dropped Ironhide's hand like it had burned him. "Yeah... yeah it was," he said. "I'd, uh... probably be more proud of it if it hadn't wiped out an entire battalion, but what can you do?" he asked, his voice cracking again. It was a weak attempt at humor that he obviously didn't feel.
Ironhide stared at the mech with wide optics. "You... you caused that?" he asked and motioned to the crater the explosion had left behind.
"Ironhide, don't," Ratchet said as Wheeljack's optics paled at his words.
Wheeljack gave a small shrug, though Ratchet could see his composure beginning to crumble. "I know how to cause a big bang," he said. "I... had to help the Cons build bombs- they didn't realize that the ones I touched have a built in defect. Crossed wires, plus some inexperienced weapons manufacturers, equal a big boom when they try to set them off. I delivered this one and knew when they were setting it— I found cover before it happened."
"Jack, you don't—" Ratchet began, seeing how his friend's already tentative calm was quickly dissolving.
Ironhide's optics widened and it was like he hadn't even heard Ratchet. "You mean we might be seein' more light shows like this?" he asked. Wheeljack simply nodded and tried to clasp his shaking hands tightly in front of him, as though trying to hide them. "Well then it's an honor to meet yeh. You might have turned the battle for us here."
"You're welcome," Wheeljack said, like the mech had just thanked him for a cube of energon. His armor clattered audible as his tremors increased, his optics slowly sliding out of focus.
Ratchet swore and caught him before he could fall, gently lowering him to the ground before he legs gave out entirely. "Damn it, Ironhide," he snapped. "What part of 'don't' didn't you get? I know you know what shellshock looks like."
Ironhide winced and had the decency to look abashed. "Ah slag it, I'm sorry," he said. "It's just—we've had a lack of good news in Charr. Somethin' like this is more welcome than you could know. Mechs were starting to despair easily here."
Ratchet glowered as he disconnected his scanner, barely hearing the apology. "Oh a scale of how little I care, your camp morale ranks far, far below Wheeljack's wellbeing," he snapped. He lowered his voice before saying, "And for Primus sake, do not let people know it was him. Your mechs don't need to be—be congratulating him on something he feels sick about, got it?" he says sharply.
Ironhide's optics narrowed. "Mech, I oughta—"
"We can argue later—shut up and help me," Ratchet interrupted as he carefully pulled Wheeljack's arm over his shoulder. Ironhide growled low in his throat, but he took the hint and quickly did the same to his other side. They stood as one and Wheeljack valiantly tried to walk with them, murmuring under his breath that he was fine, he could walk on his own, thank you. Distantly heard Ironhide get on his comm. but his words seemed so insignificant compared to Wheeljack's weight against him.