Chapter Four - An Adjustment of Plans

Ratchet woke early the next morning when Optimus pinged him. He took a second to boot all his systems.

He'd learned long ago not to embarrass himself by answering Optimus half-awake because he tended to vocalize his thoughts before his internal censor kicked in. That was a lesson learned the hard way. Optimus, while patient to a fault, did not appreciate being told to 'frag off, it's too early to deal with that' when calling him to tell him somebody had chewing gum stuck in his air intake.

Sideswipe never had explained how the chewing gum incident had happened, but Ratchet had his suspects. Some of them were human.

Only after he was fully conscious did he respond, :I'm here. What's up, boss?:

:Good morning, Ratchet.: In sharp contrast with Ratchet, Optimus was a cheerful morning person. Ratchet, who had consumed a bit too much high grade before bed, winced and bit back irritation at that pleasant and wide-awake greeting. Optimus, who was probably not oblivious to Ratchet's misery, said in a far too pleasant tone, :How are your patients?:

:Soundwave was quite distraught last night. I wish I could explain matters. I'm not sure how much he's actually understanding. He's certainly wondering what our intentions are. I've tried to reassure him as best I can, but we are his enemies, boss. He must fear the worst and be completely confused by our actions. Frenzy, for his part, is doing as well as can be expected. He tells me he can't communicate with his master beyond an emotional level either, however.:

:Mm. I have faith in your ability to figure something out. Do not overtax yourself, however. Prowl has assigned Skyfire to sit with him this evening.:

:Excellent. And I intend to enjoy my time off.: Skyfire had a fair amount of medical knowledge. If Soundwave suddenly crashed, he could at hopefully keep him alive until Ratchet arrived. Ratchet was still worried that Soundwave's operating system could destablize due to hardware errors corrupting his operating system, or a key neural circuit could short out. Skyfire was also big, strong, and nearly emotionally unflappable, and he'd known Soundwave before the war.

:He volunteered. He was worried about you stretching yourself too thin.:

:I'll thank him for that. Optimus, I've got some appointments for procedures and a surgery - Eject's arm's done - that I can't skip that this morning. However, I've got Smokescreen on my schedule in the afternoon to work with Soundwave. I want to see if we can map what functions he retains.:

:Good. Will you send Frenzy to see me?: Optimus's tone turned serious.

:Boss?:

:I'd like to have a chat with him before I assign him to a work crew.:

:Gonna threaten him into submission?:

:I prefer to lead by example rather than intimidation, Ratchet,: Optimus replied, but he sounded amused. :I wish to ensure that he understands his position here. Then, assuming he agrees with our plans, I will assign him to a work crew with Wheeljack and Steeljaw.:

:Good choice on mechs.:

:Mm. Blaster thinks that Steeljaw would be a good choice. I believe that Frenzy may appreciate working with mechs familiar with his culture and who understand what he has lost.:

:Steeljaw's an excellent choice.: The young Autobot cassette had a sly sense of fun, yet was impeccably professional in his behavior. His psych profile also mentioned a few things that made Ratchet suspect he would understand Frenzy's pain better than most. :It wouldn't hurt to introduce Frenzy to Blaster, as well. Boss, I am thinking fallback plan when I say that.:

:You are that worried about Soundwave?:

:Optimus, I have no idea how things will turn out in the end for him.: Ratchet had seen too many mechs in Soundwave's position conclude they had nothing to live for and simply give up. He couldn't exactly say he blamed them ... which reminded him. :Boss, you know, for their sake, we need to conduct services for the cassettes. Beyond the usual that you and I do, anyway. I'm about done gleaning useful parts from the bodies, so we can do it whenever you're free.:

There were a small number of Autobots who made a point to hold a service for those Decepticons killed by Autobots in combat. Optimus was the natural leader of those services; as the Matrix bearer, he was the closest thing to a religious leader that Cybertron had. However, only a handful usually attended - Ratchet, Skyfire and (surprising only those who didn't know him) Prowl were the regulars. Jazz came sometimes, and Ratchet had never figured out if it was because he really believed in saying a few prayers for dead enemies or if he attended because Prowl did.

The latter impulse likely wasn't intended to impress Prowl, but rather came from guilt. Ratchet had observed long ago that Prowl brought the best out in Jazz ... and vice versa.

Optimus sighed. :I will mention that as option to Frenzy.:

:I could talk to him about it, if you want ...:

:No.: Optimus sounded merely sad. :I am Prime. I will discuss what his wishes are.:

:Thank you, Boss.: He was somewhat glad he didn't have to bring it up. He expected Frenzy wouldn't react very well when Optimus mentioned it.

Frenzy had never actually spoken to Optimus.

He and Rumble had yelled profane insults at the Prime from across battlefields. The thrill of being crude and obnoxious to the bearer of the Matrix had never faded, particularly when their better insults were repeated and laughed about by the 'cons later. However, he had never actually talked to him, and he had never expected to.

The mech was huge. Taller than Megatron. Brighter colored than Starscream. Larger than life. And he was smiling.

Frenzy stood before a desk that was twice his height, stared way up at that imposing figure, and wondered if Optimus remembered the time he'd shouted (over Autobot comm frequencies) that Optimus Prime didn't have a spark, he had burning organic poo in his spark chamber. Or the time he'd hacked into the PA system of a sports stadium to demand (at full volume) if Optimus's bright paint scheme could be explained by paint rubs from 'facing with half the mechs in the Autobot army.

The Decepticons had found it vastly amusing. Megatron had encouraged them in such insults, and had even dispatched them to hack that PA system, as a form of distraction to the Autobots - the idea was to make them irrationally mad. As Frenzy recalled, it had backfired. The Autobots had been pissed off, but not irrational. They'd remained disciplined but had done a bit more damage than usual.

Now, he stood before the target of those insults. He knew that Optimus could make decisions that were life or death for him - and for Soundwave. Frenzy was feeling just a little protective of his master at the moment.

"Hello, Frenzy," the leader of the Autobots said, in a warm, friendly voice. "Why don't you come up here on my desk? It is easier to talk to you if I can look you in the optics."

He blinked in surprise. That had not been among the top ten things that he had expected Optimus to say.

Ravage would hop up on that desk and sprawl out, make himself at home, just because he could, Frenzy thought. Ravage, of all of his siblings, would have enjoyed living among the Autobots the most. He would have screwed with their heads every opportunity he got, with darkly malicious glee.

With that thought, and with a fierce pang of emptiness, he scrambled up onto the chair in front of the desk and then onto the desk itself. He was roughly as tall as Optimus's monitor, and his closer proximity to the mech was downright frightening.

"Ratchet tells me you've been well behaved. I want to thank you for that." Optimus ran an hand over his face. Without his mask he looked younger than his many years, at least until you looked into his optics. There was something about his gaze that was very ancient and spark-deep tired. "It cannot be easy for you. I am sorry about your brothers and sister."

"Sorry?" He couldn't help the bitterness from his voice. "You're probably glad they're gone. Five less spies. The 'cons are gonna fall apart with Soundwave gone, too. You guys got the war won, now."

Optimus frowned. "For you and Soundwave, the peace that we will then build will come at a very high price. I am sorry, Frenzy."

"Me too." He realized he was hugging himself and forced himself to stand upright. His anger evaporated as quickly as it had come, replaced again with worry. "S... Sir. What are you going to do with us? Ratchet says we can stay, but he's just a medic ..."

The leader of the Autobots interrupted him with a low chuckle. "Do not let Ratchet hear you call him 'just a medic' as he has a much higher opinion of himself than that."

Frenzy gaped, astonished that Optimus Prime would joke like that. The mech's tone was wryly amused.

Optimus continued, "In all seriousness, Ratchet is my chief medical officer. He's also one of my closest friends. I've known him for a very long time, and I trust his judgment deeply. He was one of my personal advisers before the war, a leader in his own right, and he has earned my deep respect. He is far more than a mere medic. As far as his statement about allowing you to stay - He and I have agreed we need to extend a hand of aid to both of you. In this, we are in perfect agreement."

"Why?" He still didn't understand. He couldn't meet Optimus's eyes. He wondered if it was a trick, what Optimus was trying to accomplish, and he worried that the help that the Autobots were offering would be abruptly withdrawn. Suddenly feeling a bit defiant he jerked his chin up and met the Autobot's blue optics with a glare. "How do I know you aren't doing this just to get intelligence, and you'll dump us after we blab?"

Optimus sighed. "Frenzy, there's probably not a lot you could tell us that we don't already know. I am certain that Megatron has already changed all of your access codes, likely assumes that we have hacked both of you, and is rapidly taking steps to counter any information we have gained from you."

"Why haven't you hacked me?"

Optimus looked pained at that question. "I will not lie to you, Frenzy. As you are well aware, I have ordered my medical staff to extract necessary information from Decepticons when the good outweighs the evil of that action. I do not believe we could obtain anything from you that would outweigh the harm it would cause you. I do not give the order to hack a mech lightly, and it is one I always personally sign off on."

So Optimus could decide he needed to be hacked ... the idea made him terrified. Would Ratchet, who he sorta liked, be the one to do it, or someone else? He wasn't sure which would be worse - Ratchet's kindness turned cold and hard and grim as he broke through Frenzy's firewalls, or one of the other Autobots violating his mind in such a fashion. He prodded, "But I might know something, y'know. What if you decide I'm hiding something you do need to know?"

As far as he knew, he didn't have anything critically important in his processor. Soundwave probably had lots of intelligence and analysis that the Autobots would find useful, but he had a feeling that hacking Soundwave would be completely pointless. If he couldn't talk to Soundwave over their quantum bond, then he doubted an Autobot interrogator would be able to get any coherent data. Soundwave was truly hack-proof at the moment.

Optimus sighed. "I ... hope it does not come to that. I take personal responsibility for such decisions, and make them with the good of all in mind. Sometimes, that means my decisions ... hurt people."

He had the sudden, uneasy feeling that he'd brought Optimus more pain than any battlefield insult he'd ever made. His questions, apparently, struck deep and had wounded. He had not really intended that, and he took an uncertain step back, fearing that the real pain in Optimus's eyes might transmute into anger.

Optimus sighed again. "For now, let us talk about the immediate future. Frenzy, I assume that you will want to hold some sort of memorial for your siblings, and some of us would like to attend ..."

"No." He snapped his optics off. His fists balled. He couldn't think of that. He didn't want to make it official. "No. I'll ... I'll do it in private. With Soundwave. That's it. No slagging funerals. Not with Autobots attending." He didn't want to deal with their false sympathy and forced condolences.

"I see." Optimus, when he risked turning his optics back on, looked a bit at a loss. He finally asked, "Do you mind if a few of us say a few prayers to Primus for them, however?"

"Fine, whatever." He didn't care what they did, so long as he didn't have to face it.

"Very well. If you change your mind, please let me know."

"Hnnh. You didn't call me here to talk about funerals, though. You called me here to scare me into behaving. And I want you to know I will behave!" he said, meaning it. "I mean, I get it. If I make trouble you guys might change your minds. I don't want that. My master needs ..."

Optimus reached out, suddenly, and he flinched, but the hand that rested on his arm and shoulder was very gentle. "Frenzy. Stop."

"Stop ... what?"

"Please do not be so worried. I asked you to see me not because I wished to scare you, but because I wished to discuss your position here - and I did want to ask you how you intended to honor your family. However, as far as your place here goes, Frenzy, we can make good use of your maintenance and repair skills. We are well aware that, as Soundwave's symbiont, you have considerable knowledge of engineering. He used you and your brother to make repairs on Decepticon communications installations for a long time, didn't he?"

"Yes sir." He suddenly missed Rumble so very badly. Optimus's words were an unintended reminder of what he had lost. Soundwave had used the birds and Ravage as spies, but he and Rumble had been better suited to maintaining Soundwave's vast network of equipment. Soundwave had often sent them off by themselves, trusting them, and relying on them, to do the work correctly. For days, weeks, sometimes even years, he and Rumble had been each other's world.

He missed his brother so badly. He wished that Rumble were here to back him up. He didn't know how he was going to deal with everything else without his brother's support. He desperately, desperately, wished that he had Rumble's help. And love. And just plain company. That part of his spark that had always been tied to his brother was cold, dark, echoingly empty. Far too often he forgot, however, and sent a quick thought to his brother that disappeared into the void unanswered. Sometimes he simply pinged Rumble out of habit to check his location and status, because he'd forgotten Rumble wasn't there anymore. When those pings were returned with errors, it hurt.

"Frenzy?" Optimus said, questioningly. "Do you ... need a minute?"

He realized some of his grief must have reached his expression. He shook his head hastily. "I'm fine. You're gonna make me work for my keep, eh?"

"Everybody works for their keep on this ship." Optimus's words were measured. "Your work load will be far lighter than most, as you will never be expected to fight against the Decepticons and you are not a sworn soldier of this army. That means you will never be assigned to patrols or to guard or monitor duty."

"It's okay. I suppose you'll have me cleaning and fixing stuff, eh?"

"Most of the time, that will be correct. The engineering staff may also ask you to work with them, if that will not bother you."

"Bother me?" He didn't understand that.

"Our engineering staff is, of course, working on projects - weapons, Frenzy - that will be used against Decepticons. You may find yourself asked to assist with the design of ..."

"Good." He interrupted Optimus. "Slaggers tried to kill Soundwave n' me."

"Frenzy, Megatron tried to kill Soundwave. Based on what I saw, Starscream and Hook also bear some guilt as their words certainly encouraged him. However, you cannot lay blame on the entire Decepticon faction."

He simply stared. The big red oaf was telling him not to be mad at the 'cons? After what they did? However, he did have a point. He couldn't really blame the others for Megatron's actions. However, Optimus probably didn't have the big picture.

"Look, I know Autobots are all lovey-dovey with each other. Me, I'm not attached to even one of those idiots. Most of 'em are a waste of fuel."

"Frenzy," Optimus said, very patiently, "you will learn that I believe no one is beyond redemption, and all have a right to life and to freedom, so long as they do not infringe on the lives and freedoms of others. Therefore, I do not approve of such terms as 'waste of fuel' - all have a right to life, to fuel. Including yourself."

"I bet you gave the go-ahead to make that weapon that killed my brothers and sister," he said, sudden resentment rising.

"I did." Optimus flinched, looking positively stricken. He hesitated, then said, "Frenzy, I ... ordered Sideswipe to target Soundwave. It was my decision."

His thoughts stalled to a halt and then restarting with an angry whirl of horrified emotions. "You ... you wanted him crippled?"

"I wanted him dead." Optimus met Frenzy's angry gaze, this time without anything but calm certainty. "For him to survive was not my intent."

"You just said all have a right to life!" He couldn't keep the angry wail out of his voice. "They're dead! All of them, dead! And Soundwave ... Soundwave won't ever be ..." He couldn't say it. He wanted to hear Soundwave's warm voice in his mind and heart, speaking words of reassurance, support, guidance, and affection. Instead, what he could sense of Soundwave was scared, angry, and desperate. Soundwave had never felt that way before in the entire time Frenzy had known him. He'd always been a rock of confidence and strength. He didn't want to say that Soundwave would never be the same again, might never talk to him again.

"I am sorry." Optimus sighed softly, not showing a single flare of anger in return. "You are justified in feeling anger towards me. I wanted to bring this out into the open now, so that you would not feel betrayed later, should you learn the truth. Please understand that this decision - that he would target Soundwave - was known only between myself, Prowl, and Sideswipe. It was ... calculated to be the best way to end this war with the least amount of loss of life."

"I don't understand. He's the third in command. He's not Megatron. He's not Starscream. Why kill my master?" It made no sense. Soundwave was a skilled communications engineer, yes, but his skills were replaceable.

Optimus ran a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. "Frenzy, in addition to being critical for Decepticon intelligence and communications efforts, our intelligence suggests that Soundwave was the keystone holding the Decepticon command together. Without him Megatron's temper will be unchecked and Starscream's scheming will be far more effective. Our expectation is that the Decepticons will ..."

"Implode, yeah, yeah." He could see this, now that it was pointed out. He'd actually wondered just how bad things were getting back on the Nemesis without Soundwave around. He couldn't look at Optimus, though. Instead, he turned, putting his back to the mech. He plopped down on the desk, wrapped his arms around his legs, and rested his head against his knees. "So this is about guilt, eh?"

Guilt ... oh, Primus. The reason that Soundwave was so good at gathering intelligence had a heck of a lot to do with Frenzy and his siblings. That skill had brought him to Megatron's attention in the first place. If Frenzy had not done such a good job, would Soundwave be whole and the others alive?

He was stunned when Optimus rested a hand lightly on his back. He started to shrink away, and forced himself to remain still. Optimus said, "Frenzy, I am sorry."

"If he was okay, if he wasn't hurt so bad, would you have traded him for Jazz?" He wondered how cold-sparked Optimus would be. "Or ... or maybe you did hurt him, like Megatron claimed. Maybe you figured Megatron'd take him back anyway, and you'd get Jazz back, but screwing up his mind would still accomplish your goals, and, and ..."

"No, I would not have traded him for Jazz." Optimus's thumb rubbed the back of his neck. "We would have found another way to retrieve Jazz. I would never intentionally cause the kind of harm your master has suffered. Frenzy, I am so sorry. I truly am. You will have a home here for as long as you need it, provided you do not force me into another harsh decision. The safety of my troops comes first, but ... you can stay, and feel confident that we will never cast you out without cause. It was my decision, ultimately, to target Soundwave, and so yes, I feel personally responsible for your welfare."

"As a slave."

"As a ... what?" The hand on his back stilled.

"Isn't that what you're talking about? Put me to work without any choice on my end? No pay, no real promises, I can't leave ..." he couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "Tell me you'd let me leave."

"No. You may not leave." Optimus said, then shook his head. "Not on Earth. We could return you both to Cybertron, some day in the future, should you wish that. I would not allow either of you to leave our ... custody ... on Earth. Not at this time."

"So I'm a slave. I've been a slave. That's how I ended up with Soundwave, actually. I was owned by his lover's family. She died. The estate was gonna split me'n my brother up and sell us. We ran away. He found us, and then spent every last credit he had saved up, and went into debt, to buy us. And then he offered us ... well. The rest is history. So I've been a slave. Soundwave promised I would never have to be one again. He mod'd us so we'd always be together and safe. He's the best master you could ever imagine. And I'm not a slave. It's different! I'm with him of my own free will and he'd let me go if I really wanted it, and now ... now I've got you putting me right back where I wanted, and ..." he ground to a halt. If he kept going he was going to scream at the mech with as much of a display of histrionics as Starscream at his worst.

"I see." Optimus sounded simply tired. "You make some very valid points. We can ... afford to keep you fueled, and your basic maintenance done. I will not require labor of you. I ... did not think how you would perceive matters, and I was wrong to suggest it. You will simply be a prisoner."

He frowned. "In the brig?"

"If you give me your word, you may remain in Ratchet's quarters. You may not leave."

"Ever?"

"You will be our prisoner. I cannot take the risk that you may do something to cause harm to my mechs."

He didn't like the sound of that. Ratchet had a television, but little else in the room. It would be boring, to say the least.

"Maybe ... maybe I could do some work. In exchange for Soundwave's care. He's gonna need a lot, isn't he?"

Optimus sighed. "There is no charge for what we do for your master. I ... believe we can come to another arrangement. We do have a steady stream of earth funds, from a variety of sources - some government funding, a few business contracts. I can pay you a wage for your work, plus ... see that my engineering staff furthers your education. Someday the war will be over, and you may need to think of a career, and earning a living. We can give you more skills than you already have."

"Soundwave used to maintain communications satellites." He had no idea what he'd do with Earth funds, but he supposed he'd figure something out. "He won't be doing that any more, even if the war ends."

"Perhaps not."

It scared him to think that someday he might have to support Soundwave. He was just one small cassette, and Soundwave was his master. There was something really wrong with that picture.

"I should hate you." He let his resentment distract him from worries about the future.

"I would not blame you if you did." Again, there was that worn weariness. "My Autobots all receive a wage as well. We fight for what we believe is right, but soldiers should still be paid."

"Megatron pays in Cybertronian credits," Frenzy snorted. "Do you know what they're worth right now? They're not worth the electrons used to transmit the data." He huffed a sigh. "Fine. I clean, I fix, I polish, I do whatever else you guys need. I get one regular shift a day. You give me overtime pay if it goes beyond eight hours of work, and I get the option to say no to overtime. At least two hours a day of that shift is spent with the engineering staff, and I've got a preference for Perceptor's work or Skyfire's over Wheeljack's. Engineering, I've been doing since I was a youngling, and my stuff doesn't blow up."

Much to his surprise, Optimus smiled. It was a relieved smile, he thought, and the mech said lightly, "To be fair, many of Wheeljack's explosions are due to the fact that he is designing weapons."

"Yeah? He made the air handler on the third level blow up two years ago."

"How did you know about ...?" Optimus sounded a bit nonplussed by Fenzy's snarky observation.. "I do not want to know how often you five slipped into the Arc."

He smirked. "The birds were best at it. Wheeljack didn't tell you he was helping the Sideswipe and Sunstreaker set up a still for high grade. And no, you don't want to know how often."

He also had no intention of ever enlightening the Autobots of all of the ways they'd discovered into the Arc. Those entrances were also exits. If he ever needed to bail, he could. However, Soundwave couldn't use most of them even if he was mobile, so it didn't seem likely Frenzy would be running away any time soon.

Optimus smiled faintly. "I was aware of the still."

"Oh."

"I've found that banning all forms of intoxication tends to result in binges when they become available." Optimus shook his head, as if in disapproval. "I believe Jazz has an unspoken agreement with the twins that they limit the distribution to reasonable quantities, do not sell to certain mechs, and don't throw parties without inviting him. I am, of course, formally unaware of this agreement, and unofficially, Jazz is under orders to attend those parties and make sure it never gets out of hand."

Frenzy snorted. "Megatron just kicks everyon's afts when they get drunk."

"Does that work?" Optimus asked, lifting one optic ridge.

"Slag no." He was beginning to think that he'd fallen down a rabbit hole - an analogy that made him remember Laserbeak with a flinch. She'd been the silly one of the group, and had been quite fond of certain human literature. The Autobots did things so differently, he wished desperately that he could share that thought with them.

Rumble would have loved the comparison. And called him Alice.

He was so damn slagging alone. Never in his life, since his first moments online, had he been so alone in his head. He'd always had Rumble, and then Soundwave and the others had come along when he was very young. He couldn't even talk to Soundwave now.

"Frenzy, are we in agreement?"

"Yeah, yeah." He sighed. "What kind of a wage are we talking about?"

The figure that Optimus named in American dollars was decent, particularly since he had room and board in the deal. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd do with the money -buy car wax and comic books on eBay? - but being paid somehow made it feel more voluntary.

At that moment, someone pinged them from outside the door. Optimus sent a quick transmission to open it, and he did a major double take when, for one brief moment, he thought Ravage was standing there.

Steeljaw.

Steeljaw looked nothing like Ravage, but he was feline in shape, and roughly the right size. For one short moment, Frenzy's processor had insisted it was Ravage so strongly that he'd sent a wordless, purely emotional greeting into the aching nothingness in his spark that had once held Ravage's dry wit and dark humor.

The autobot symbiont was taller than Ravage, broader than Ravage, and of a completely different temperament. On second glance, there was very little resemblance.

"Prime, sir, you wished to speak to me?" Steeljaw said, in a warm tenor.

"Yes, thank you. Come in, Steeljaw." Optimus's greeting was friendly.

Ravage had never spoken aloud to anyone. He had plenty to say spark to spark, much of it sourly snarky, but he saw no need to speak to anyone outside their group. He just plain didn't care for anyone who wasn't bonded to him. It was his nature, both programming and inclination, and Frenzy had never questioned his choice to be mute.

To hear another feline cassette talk was a bit of a surprise. He'd known Steeljaw spoke, but he'd never actually heard him before.

Steeljaw was clearly used to Optimus's preference to speak to short mechs on their level. He smoothly leaped up onto the desk, sat on his haunches, and said, "What can I help you with, boss?"

"Steeljaw, Frenzy will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. He'll be helping engineering with Arc maintenance. I'd like you to assist him."

"Of course." Steeljaw glanced over at Frenzy and looked him over, curiously. "You're staying with Ratchet, I take it?"

Optimus nodded. "So that has already made the rumor network?"

"Kid smells like Ratchet's quarters." Steeljaw smiled again, baring some very formidable teeth. "It seems logical. It's not the first time Ratchet's taken a patient home to stay with him until the patient's repaired, if the patient needs close monitoring - and I know it would be practically impossible to separate me from Blaster if he was hurt, so I figured the kid was staying with him."

"I'm not a child," Frenzy snapped, suddenly resentful of the term 'kid.'

Steeljaw's grin grew wider. Tone tinted with sarcasm he said,. "My apologies. The Decepticon smells like Ratchet's quarters, boss."

Optimus pinched his nasal ridge for a moment. "Steeljaw, be nice. Frenzy's staying here, effectively as a neutral. I expect you to treat him with the respect and courtesy I know you to be well capable of."

"... Yes sir." Chastened, Steeljaw ducked his head. "That was unprofessional. I am sorry, Prime."

"We'll all need to watch our insults," Optimus smiled. A knowing glint touched his optics. "Right, Frenzy?"

Steeljaw snorted something that sounded like an attempt to muffle a laugh.

Burning organic poo for a spark. Right. He stammered, "Y-yes sir."

"Wheeljack will have some assignments for the two of you. You're both dismissed."

"Thank you, Prime." Steeljaw jumped off the desk with agility and grace that Frenzy could only envy. Frenzy heard the confidence and assurance in that voice, and wondered at it. Steeljaw wasn't afraid of Optimus. He was sure of his place in the world, and not worried about repercussions for his mis-chosen words. And yet, there was respect in his words for the leader.

Frenzy clattered down after the other cassette, then turned back to Prime and said, softly, "Thank you, sir."

That got him a nod of acknowledgment. Optimus said, ruefully, "And thank you, Frenzy, for sharing your perspective. If you need anything, my door is always open to everyone who lives here."

He was honestly not sure what to make of that. Finally he just nodded and more-or-less fled out of the room. He felt so out of sorts, confused, and just plain uneasy.

Only when he'd gone halfway to engineering did he remember Steeljaw. Like Ravage, Steeljaw moved with silent grace. The other symbiont was walking quietly beside him, stride steady and calm.

"So you're my babysitter, I guess." He knew from intelligence reports he'd seen that Steeljaw was a formidable tracker, and that his lion-like ruff concealed everything from miniaturized radar to geiger counters. Like Soundwave, Blaster specialized in communications, but Blaster had outfitted his symbionts with far more modifications and gadgets. From what Frenzy had picked up from intelligence reports, Blaster's gang had far more respect from the Autobots than he and his own siblings had ever enjoyed. Therefore, they got more funding and resources funneled their way for mods.

Underneath that heavy plating, twin pulse cannons, and his mantle of armor-protected sensors was a frame virtually identical to Ravage's. They moved the same, and his footfalls sounded very similar. If he averted his optics and ignored a Ravage-sized hole in his spark he could pretend, for a moment, that Ravage was trotting beside him.

Steeljaw chuckled, and said, "No, ki... Frenzy. Not a babysitter, or a guard. You're on video, y'know? You pull anything really stupid and Red Alert will deal with it. I got in trouble and this is my punishment detail. I asked for a couple shifts with you, though, over cleaning the wash racks or monitor duty."

"Hanging out with me is punishment?" He couldn't help but be offended by that, even if he did rank higher in Steeljaw's estimation than monitor duty.

"What? No. Pulling an extra shift - that's punishment." Steeljaw snorted. "Hanging out with you is not punishment. To tell the truth, it's good to meet someone who won't think I'm a freak because of Blaster. That's kinda why I asked to work with you."

"Oh. You got in trouble?" He wasn't sure what to think about anyone, particularly an Autobot, asking to work with him.

That got him a grin. "I turned a mouse loose in Sunstreaker's quarters."

"Was it worth it?" He couldn't help but ask that question. He'd have asked any of his siblings the same thing.

"He screamed like a little girl, and then he and Sideswipe spent the night dismantling his berth because it had gone underneath it. Completely worth it." Steeljaw's optics danced with bright amusement. "It was payback for a prank they pulled on Ramhorn."

Frenzy wanted to ask what prank ... but then he recalled the number of times he'd gotten revenge for some slight to one of his siblings or Soundwave. He hunched a bit, bitter longing rising. Steeljaw's mirth came from being part of a whole, complete gang of symbionts.

Probably in reaction to Frenzy's mood, Soundwave pinged him.

He about fell over in surprise, straightening up. :Boss? Boss, you read me? You there?:

:Kth5QQQk!k df ffffffrrrr!: The response was unintelligible, and Soundwave's worried mood turned to frustration and anger and fear.

:Boss? It's okay.: He tried to send reassurance, affection, he tried to feel confident and strong. Soundwave had enough to worry about. Not only had he lost five symbionts, but he had his injuries to deal with as well. Frenzy knew it was just as hard on Soundwave to lose them as it was him ... Frenzy's bond with Rumble notwithstanding, Soundwave had been so close to everybody.

Soundwave just felt more worried.

:Love you, big guy,: he thought, though he knew that Soundwave wouldn't understand.

The response to his words was just more worry and anxiety, along with a thin thread of curiosity. :I'm fine, boss. Really. Just working.:

Soundwave abruptly blocked the bond. Frenzy would have been more concerned by that if it weren't for the fact that Soundwave had started doing that every time his emotions got the better of him. He sighed. He couldn't go to Soundwave right now, surely the Autobots wouldn't want him taking time out of his assigned work - though part of him ached to do so and damn the consequences. Soundwave had been in deep recharge when Ratchet had woken Frenzy and sent him to see Optimus. He was likely very concerned because Frenzy was missing when he woke, but how did you explain, Hey boss, I got a job! when your master couldn't understand a slagging thing you said?

It was pointless. Soundwave would just have to worry until he got used to Frenzy leaving his side.

"You okay, kid?" Steeljaw asked.

"Huh?"

"You sorta faded out there."

"Sorry." He sighed. "Soundwave woke up. He's pretty upset, I think because I'm not there."

"Let's go see him before we start your shift." Steeljaw turned up a corridor that led towards the med bay.

"Won't we be late?" He was startled by that suggestion.

"Blaster's with Wheeljack right now. I just cleared it." Steeljaw's jaw tensed for a moment. He looked sharply away from Frenzy, then added, "I know how hard it is for you."

"We're enemies," he protested the kindness. He didn't want the Autobots to be kind. They'd deliberately tried to kill Soundwave and had ended the lives of his siblings.

That earned him a snort. "And Soundwave is big enough to cause some real damage if he panics, either to himself or to everyone around him. Let's just let him have a look at you. Believe me, I get carrier behavior. Blaster's about as reasonable as they come, but he's not my first carrier. And even Blaster has his moments ... anyway, I've been around the block a few times. I'll drag you down to the med bay if you don't come willingly."

Frenzy didn't feel like arguing too hard. Even though Soundwave was clearly trying to block his feelings, extreme anxiety was leaking across. It was enough to make him jittery, and he lengthened his stride.

"Blaster says he's getting pretty agitated," Steeljaw broke into a trot, and Frenzy had to run to keep up.

In the med bay, they found Soundwave standing, gripping the edge of a berth with both hands, and spitting frantic-sounding static at Ratchet. Ratchet, somewhat to Frenzy's surprise, was calmly going about his business. Said business was clearly prepping Eject for surgery - who looked up and greeted Steeljaw with a bright smile. Eject was missing an arm, and presumably in preparation for receiving a replacement, he had been hooked up to an array of monitors and an energon drip. He was sitting cross-legged on the berth with a somewhat goofy grin on his face.

"Yeah, yeah," Steeljaw said aloud to his bond-brother, likely in response to some silent comment. "Ratchet's already given you the good stuff, hasn't he?"

"Yeah," Eject said, and giggled. "I was neerrrrrrrvous. Now, I'm. I'm just happy. Happy."

Soundwave, meanwhile, took one look at Frenzy and then seemed to relax. He swayed in place, struggling to stay upright.

Ratchet glanced back at him briefly. "Watch out, you two. If he falls, he's big enough to squish you."

"Tell me something I don't know," Frenzy said, but he put a little extra distance between himself and his master. "Shouldn't he be sitting down?"

"He's been trying to walk all morning." Ratchet shrugged, as he swabbed at the (still giggling) Eject's empty shoulder socket with cleanser. "The more he tries, the better he'll get."

"But he could fall!" Frenzy worried.

"Yeah, he already has a couple of times. It's why I moved my monitors." Ratchet waved a hand at a bank of equipment that had been set on a high shelf.

"But ..."

"The worst he'll do is give himself a few dents." Ratchet's tone turned sharp. "And I can pound dents back out. Frenzy, if we run and coddle him every time he tries to get up, it will slow his recovery. He's a big boy. He's well aware he could fall. Let him decide if he wants to take the risk or not."

Frenzy hesitated, watching Soundwave. He just looked so unstable. Soundwave, meanwhile, regarded him for a moment from behind his visor, and then abruptly pushed himself away from the table. He stumbled and swayed and staggered, but he made it four strides across the room in the direction of a chair. He caught himself against the wall, and then heaved himself around and dropped into the chair with a clatter and a bang of uncoordinated metal limbs.

Imperiously, he pointed at his knee.

Frenzy found he didn't particularly want to sit in Soundwave's lap like a sparkling. He'd never been cuddly with Soundwave before. It wasn't really his nature to snuggle unless he was completely distraught. He hesitated, torn between wanting to comply with what was a clear order from his master, and not wanting to look like a child. It didn't bother him to look vulnerable in front of Ratchet, for some reason, but he didn't want Steeljaw to see, and Blaster and Wheeljack had just walked into the room.

Soundwave repeated the gesture.

"The things I do for you, boss ..." he sighed and scrambled up. Soundwave was injured, and he couldn't bring himself to argue. It was only his dignity at stake.

Somewhat to his surprise, Soundwave didn't hug him. Instead, he was subjected to a very careful head to toe inspection. Soundwave was clearly looking for damage. He grinned at the others in rueful tolerance as Soundwave checked him over. Only when he'd satisfied himself that Frenzy was unharmed did he pat Frenzy on the head and give him a gentle shove to encourage him to get down. Frenzy could feel the relief in Soundwave's spark that he had not been harmed.

He told the others, "Guess he just wanted to make sure I hadn't been dented by any of my mortal enemies."

Steeljaw chuckled. "Given how you can fight, I'm think you're pretty safe from deliberate denting. I can't see anyone picking on you just for fun."

He blinked at the compliment. At least, he thought it was a compliment - one warrior to another.

Steeljaw added, "I'd love to spar with you someday."

"Really?" Now that stunned him.

"Sure." Steeljaw grinned broadly. "Though your boss might disapprove."

From beside Eject, Blaster chuckled. "Would he disapprove, or would he want to watch?"

"Oh, he would want to watch." Soundwave had made no secret of his pride and pleasure in Frenzy's ability to hold his own in a fight. He wondered if it would make Soundwave happy if he trounced the Autobot symbiont in a sparring match. The emotions he was getting from Soundwave were so miserable that he'd do just about anything to cheer him up.

Ratchet, who was scrubbing Eject's shoulder socket out with a wad of steel wool and sizable amounts of degreaser, spoke up. "Just make sure you two have Ironhide or Sideswipe supervising. I've got enough dents to fix," he flicked Eject in the audio sensor, "without adding training injuries to the mix. And Steeljaw, do remember that Frenzy has no obligation to help you improve your skills against his own faction."

Frenzy snorted. At the moment, his resentment towards the Decepticons was running so high that he was ready to grab a wad of that steel wool from Ratchet and scrub his sigil off. Only Soundwave's likely reaction to that action stopped him. Soundwave took his oaths seriously, and one of them had been an oath of loyalty to Megatron.

He said sharply, "I'd be delighted to spar with Steeljaw, actually."

"Hnh. My comment about supervision stands. That's an order, Steeljaw," Ratchet, Chief Medical Officer, and outranked by only a handful of other mechs on Earth, said with firm command in his voice.

Blaster added, "One I'll back up. - Hey "Eject, you falling asleep there, kiddo?"

"Nnnhnn ..." Eject was swaying in place. "Steeljaw, you wanna score ..."

Steeljaw nervously chuckled, "Eject, you're stoned stupid."

Blaster laughed aloud, short and sharp and amused.

"Gonna score ... gonna wanna score ... wanna score ... Frenzy get a hole in one with Frenzy ... get ..." Eject, to Frenzy's mystification, started giggling and babbling something about Frenzy being a good catcher.

"Okay, that's enough sports talk," Ratchet reached an arm out and flipped a switch on the IV stand. Eject, two nanoclicks later, and in mid sentence, slumped forward. Ratchet caught him without missing a beat, and kept scrubbing his shoulder. He rolled his optics at Blaster, "I swear, he's never met a sport he didn't like. You drug him and it's all he talks about. Blaster, remember the time we had to keep him sedated for a couple of days while his auto-repair dealt with that deep burn to his protoform?"

"Yeah," Blaster smirked, "He was on a golf kick. He talked about golf for two days straight. - Steeljaw, you and Frenzy should go get to work before Prowl gets on Wheeljack's aft for letting you slack off. Shoo."

"Yessir." Steeljaw turned briefly to Frenzy. "Let's go. We'll stop by Wheeljack's lab to get some buckets for the mice. We live trap 'em."

"So we need to kill them after we catch them? Eww." He trotted out the door after Steeljaw, who suddenly seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

Steeljaw rolled his optics without breaking stride. "No. Wheeljack decreed that we need to let them loose outside. Alive."

"... Why?" Frenzy was completely mystified by that. They'd turned mice loose on the firing range to practice pinpoint accuracy shooting on the Nemesis.

"Because Wheeljack thinks they're cute."

"Does he know that mice chew and pee everywhere?" Frenzy said, both optic ridges going up. As one of the smallest of the Nemesis's crew, he'd done his share of repairs related to rodent damage. Not all of the rodents-like critters were even terrestrial in origin. There was a very good reason why many Cybertronians had a very firm dislike of organic worlds, and it had to do with the damage vermin could cause when they got loose in delicate systems. He had been an eager participant in mice-shooting on the Nemesis.

"He knows." Steeljaw sighed. "Trust me, he knows. He still thinks they're cute."

"Well they, are, sorta, but the damage ..."

"Trust me. He knows."

Ratchet leaned on a drill for a moment to tighten up a bolt. Out of his peripheral vision he could see Soundwave, who had made it over to a work bench and struggled into the chair. He was now inspecting the contents of the drawers, and Ratchet judged he was likely bored. Bored was better than the anxiety he had been showing earlier, so he pretended to ignore him.

He was, actually, evaluating Soundwave's level of neural functioning. He could tell a lot about the damage by how Soundwave behaved when nobody was paying any attention to him. He'd already figured out that Soundwave's optical processing was working much better than his auditory circuits.

Blaster, watching Soundwave as Ratchet repaired Eject, said, "You know, that's creepy."

"What is?" Ratchet tightened up a tension wire in incremental amounts.

"... Soundwave. You say he's all there?"

"I suspect, cognitively, he's pretty normal in many ways."

"Other than not being able to understand us."

Ratchet paused for a second. "Funny how our mind works. When you hear or see something that is language, there's a a module in your sensor arrays that shunts that data to your language centers for decryption. His actual language centers are intact, but the connection between the module that says, 'Hey, that's language!' and his language libraries is broken. So he may know he's hearing words, but he can't decrypt 'em into useful data."

"Can't you fix the connection?"

"I don't have the equipment for it. It's very specialized nanoscale work. I don't think that sort of lab even exists anymore." Ratchet rubbed his forehead with two fingers. "Even if I did have the equipment ... the repairs were never perfect. Sometimes they didn't work at all."

Soundwave had found a stylus and a datapad. Ratchet craned his neck for a moment to see what Soundwave was doing. The big mech stared at the datapad for a long moment, then started to draw or (attempt) to write something.

Ratchet tapped his head with one finger. "The internal connections between his cortex and the language centers remain intact, so he can think, but he's locked in his own head."

"What about a software fix?" Blaster made a swooping gesture with one hand. "Reroute the data. Send it the back way straight to his cortex, from there into language libraries, and then bounce it back to his cortex. It'd be slower and error prone, but I'd think it would be possible."

As the Autobot's Communications Officer, Blaster knew a fair bit about both Cybertronian systems and engineering in general. Ratchet figured if they did try something like that someday, Blaster would be on his short list - along with Wheeljack - to work on the code. However, Blaster hadn't actually seen the level fo damage to Soundwave's sensor modules. Ratchet was just happy that Soundwave could see and feel, at the moment.

"There's a problem." Ratchet pressed his lips together. "I'd have to set up a hard line connection, actually solder a lead into his cortex, to install the firmware."

"His dataport router's screwed?"

He explained to Blaster, "No, but it relies on the language libraries to interpret incoming commands. If it can't understand the commands we give it, we can't access his code through it. We'd have to set up a hard line, write a translation program to turn commands to machine code, and pray we didn't introduce a bug that brought down a his whole system in a cascade failure. I have done that sort of procedure a few times, though not for this sort of injury - to manually rebuild fragged machine code after a major OS crash."

"Did that work?" Blaster gave him a look like he'd just admitted to being Primus himself. "I didn't even know that sort of a fix was possible. Your OS goes down, I thought you needed a whole system restore."

"I've made it work." Ratchet rubbed his face with his hand. "We didn't have a backup for the mechs I've done it for. One was a civilian, and another two were 'cons who tried to wipe themselves on capture. The fourth idiot was a rather well-thought-out suicide attempt by another medic. - Anyway, was Eject really babbling about Steeljaw liking Frenzy?"

At the work bench, Soundwave impatiently erased the image he'd been drawing and set the datapad down with a sharp click. It was impossible to tell what his expression was behind that mask, and his posture was neutral, but he'd put the device down with a little more force than necessary. Ratchet wondered if he'd been trying to draw an image or attempting to write something, and he wished Frenzy were around to ask if he was angry or just frustrated.

Blaster's answer swiftly drew his attention back to the communications officer, however.

Blaster laughed. "Steeljaw really likes Frenzy's frame type."

"Primus." Ratchet soldered a couple wires into place before adding, "And you volunteered him to work with the little glitch?"

Blaster smirked. "Make love, not war."

"Primus!" Ratchet repeated, "Frenzy's a con, Blaster, with a bad temper and a badder attitude. He's on his best behavior now, and ... he's not a bad kid, I don't think, but he's also going to have quite a few issues."

Blaster shrugged. "Steeljaw can deal with it. He's one of the strongest mechs I know - when I think of what he's gone through in his life, it's amazing he's as steady as he is. What I see is that Frenzy's been quantum bound to primitives like Steeljaw. He knows Steelie's not an animal. He sees him as a person, not a 'creature' - that's hard for Steeljaw to find. Ma man's got it rough, Ratchet. Even on this ship there's plenty of mechs who think my guys are either smart drones or somehow extensions of my own spark."

Ratchet huffed a sigh. If he'd known this was Blaster's reason for suggesting Steeljaw work with Frenzy he would have fought the pairing all the way to Prime ... who, romantic sap that he was, would probably have sided with Blaster. He still would have tried to stop the damned matchmaking, though. With a dark scowl he said, "Well, I highly doubt Frenzy will return any advances he makes. Do you have any idea what Decepticon culture's like?"

Blaster snorted. "Head of Communications, remember? I spy on their communications as part of my job." He continued, however, interrupting Ratchet's attempt to clarify just how bad it could be for Decepticons, "And speaking as a carrier, I can say with a fair degree of certainty that Frenzy's been sheltered from the worst elements of his faction. Soundwave would send him into combat before he'd leave him unprotected on the Nemesis. He'd probably rather Frenzy die a clean death than be subjected to ... Primus. Anyway. The only question is, just how protective was Papa?" Blaster glanced over at Soundwave, who had found a half-disassembled hand in one of the work drawers, and seemed to be studying it with morbid fascination.

"Very protective." Ratchet hooked a datapad up to Eject's clavicle datajack and started running some diagnostics. Eject's arm had been blown off at the shoulder during the last fight, and it had taken Wheeljack a few days to fashion a replacement. Eject, tough kid that he was, had picked the remnants of his arm up, blocked his pain from the rest of his team so as to not distract them during the continuing battle, and walked half a mile on foot until he caught a ride back to the Arc with Optimus.

It was probably best not to let Frenzy - or, probably, Eject - know that Wheeljack had used some of Rumble's parts to repair the arm. He and Wheeljack had gleaned every usable part they could from the bodies, and then set Wheeljack to the grim task of making cosmetic replacements for the visible bits like optics and sensor arrays.

Ratchet grimaced when an error came back from a sensor in Eject's wrist, and grabbed a smaller set of tools to go fishing for what was probably a broken electrical lead. He'd tested the arm before attaching it, but had apparently missed something.

Blaster reached out and held Eject's hand steady while Ratchet worked. Ratchet glanced up at him briefly. There were some mechs he wouldn't let within a hundred yards of med bay when working on their loved ones. Blaster wasn't one of them. Blaster did the repairs on his own symbionts when he was in the field, and the little fraggers were always getting slagged up one way or another. He usually did the work right, too. Ratchet seldom had something to complain about when he inspected the work later.

And he'd learned a long time ago not to get between a carrier and his symbionts. Blaster was mellow enough, but carrier instinct was powerful.

Blaster snorted. "You're saying I should have a talk with Steeljaw about being careful with the innocent, naive little Decepticon?"

"Something like that." Ratchet started connecting energon lines to the arm now that the electrical bits were testing good. They'd know in a few days if Frenzy's protoform accepted the repaired limb. If it was rejected, he'd have to start over from scratch. He took his time to make sure all the connections were good now, and only after running several tests did he say, "Look, I know you mean well, but I think it's a lousy idea to encourage Steeljaw. Frenzy needs friends and supports. He damn sure doesn't need romance. But - I never understimate the stupidity of young soldiers. You make sure Steeljaw understands he's playing with fire. I'll make sure the innocent little Decepticon actually knows the facts of life."

"Surely ..."

Ratchet quirked an optic ridge at Blaster. "I've been a medic longer than you've been alive. I've learned the hard way to never assume a mech knows the facts of life."

That earned him a laugh. "True, true." It was clear that Blaster didn't quite believe him, however.

He huffed a sigh, but made a mental note to really have that talk with the kid. He wasn't joking. He didn't care if it embarrassed the young soldier into stasis lock. He'd much rather embarrass a patient with a lecture versus deal with damage caused by, err, operator error ... or worse, deal with an unintended sparkling on a warship.

Primus. The thought of any of the Autobots getting involved with Frenzy made his plating twitch. It just plain sounded like trouble, between Soundwave's paranoid protectiveness and Frenzy's own recent history. And the thing was, there were less than fifty Autobots on Earth. Everybody had either paired off already, or they didn't have any suitable prospects for a compatible partner.

Frenzy, Decepticon insignia, short stature and his bond to Soundwave notwithstanding, would be viewed with definite interest by a good portion of those single mechs. Some of them would be fantasizing about getting him to switch sides, winning his affection, and changing his very nature through the healing powers of true love. Most would ignore his real needs and true nature in favor of their own desires to play hero to the poor little 'Con.

Ratchet was pretty sure that true love was a myth, and he'd dealt with the emotional or physical aftermath of one too many affairs gone wrong. He didn't think he had any illusions when it came to romance.

Yes. He definitely needed to have a little chat with Frenzy about the birdbots and the insecticons, just to make sure that the kid knew everything he needed to. Ratchet really didn't want to have 'make a sparkling protoform using available Earth technology' on his to-do list any time in the near future.

"There." He finished the work on Eject's arm, and reached up to snap off the energon drip. After checking the monitor displays one last time, he disconnected the symbiont, scooped him up, and handed him to Blaster. "Go take him to the recovery room. Yell if he does anything unusual waking up like, oh, not babble deliriously about sports. I'll be in Smokescreen's office with him and Soundwave for most of the afternoon."

"Thanks, Ratchet." Blaster ran a hand over Eject's forehead gently.

Ratchet smiled, and rested his hand on Blaster's arm. "No problem. He's a good little guy. You're lucky, you know."

"To have them in my life? Yeah." Blaster's tone turned soft. "I am lucky."

"Get." Ratchet gave him a friendly shove. "Go on. I've got work to do."

"Thanks, doc."

Over at the work bench, Soundwave was watching him with his head tilted to one side, as if curious about something. He was very still, and seemed very focused.

"What?" Ratchet demanded. "Never seen Autobots be mushy before?"

After a bit, Soundwave turned back to the desk. He appeared to be organizing Ratchet's racks of screwdrivers by size.

"You must be bored," Ratchet told him.

"kTkkqppzzzsssK!k!" Soundwave replied. He picked a drill bit out of the pile of screwdivers, and dropped it into an appropriate drawer.

"Everyone's a critic." Ratchet shook his head. "And I don't know if you realize it, Soundwave, but if you can sort a pile of tools by type, you're in better shape than I'd feared."