Chapter 12
An Adjustment of Plans
Ratchet knew something was wrong when Soundwave went rigid. The mech was sitting on his couch, sipping a cube of energon, when suddenly he sat up, hissed static, and stopped moving. For half a second he was afraid that Soundwave was having another crash, but a quick ping of the datapad clipped to the inside of Soundwave's chestplate confirmed his operational status was stable.
Soundwave balled his hands, and tensed his jaw. His mouth, which he had exposed while he drank, pressed into a thin, dismayed line.
He sent a quick question to Red Alert, :Is Ironhide having an issue?:
:Yep. He ran into a 'con at the welding supply warehouse:
Ratchet was nearly as alarmed as Soundwave looked. Which 'con? He sat down on the couch next to Soundwave, worried for both Ironhide and Frenzy. He patched himself into the command frequency and monitored the fight. Ironhide kept up a running (and expletive laced) commentary as he dealt with the problem.
He was relieved to learn it was Swindle. Ironhide could handle Swindle, unless Swindle had backup or came up with some sort of ugly surprise.
How much worse, he thought, must it be for Soundwave, who could feel his symbiont's fear, but could not know the cause. Would Soundwave think that the Autobots were hurting him? The thought was too terrible to contemplate. Soundwave had trusted his judgment in sending Frenzy with Ironhide.
Hesitantly, he put a hand on that broad, armored back, wanting to communicate his concern. Soundwave shuddered, but didn't pull away. His systems were understandably running fast, fans humming, heat rolling off his plating as a sign of his stress. Ratchet was frustrated by his inability to offer Soundwave words of comfort. Absently, he considered offering him high grade instead, but the mech might take it wrong if Ratchet didn't share … and as much as he desperately wanted a drink, if either of them got hurt (or if Swindle did, and was subsequently captured) he was going to be back in the med bay in a very short while. He'd just gotten done with the truly urgent repairs, after more than thirty-six hours in the med bay.
Soundwave made a staticky noise, and Ratchet winced as the Ironhide's running commentary on the situation included a snarled, "Fragger just blew his leg off!"
For a second, he assumed that Frenzy had been injured, but the fight raged for a minute more, and then Ironhide said, "Slaggers got away. Vortex just took off with Swindle."
"Status report?" Prowl's voice, by contrast, had remained cool and controlled.
"'M fine. Few dents. Kid looks okay. He blew Swindle's leg right off at the ankle. Daaaaamn, I'd forgotten what a crazy glitch Frenzy is."
"And the humans?"
"Fine, Prowl. Nobody's hurt beyond a few dents and bruises. Well, nobody on our side."
"How did Frenzy get a weapon?" Prowl demanded.
"Gave 'im one." Ironhide snorted. "Figured he'd scamper off and hide somewhere, but I didn't want him defenseless. He did good, Prowl. Got the humans out of the building, got 'em to safety, and defended 'em. Sure didn't expect that."
Neither had Ratchet, frankly. Frenzy, it seemed, was just full of surprises.
Ratchet met Soundwave's visored gaze. Soundwave was smiling. Soundwave couldn't know what had happened, but he was pretty sure Frenzy was proud of himself right now. Soundwave couldn't miss the implications of pride following fear and anger.
He broke in on the command line, :Either of you need immediate medical attention when you get back?:
:Nah. Neither of us got hit. Still can't believe Frenzy saved the slagging humans … awww, and the girl's huggin' him. You guys oughta see his face.:
:Send me the video later,: Ratchet said, with some amusement.
When Frenzy returned to the base, he gave the hand blaster to Ironhide. As he did, he grumbled, "I feel naked without a weapon."
The big mech took it back, looked at it for a second, crouched, then said, "I can't let you keep this. It's too big for you, anyway."
He had not been expecting any sort of concessions when it came to his right (or lack thereof) to bear arms among the Autobots. He'd carried some sort of weapon since he was a sparkling, and the most dangerous thing he had in his subspace now was a laser scalpel that he'd been using for repairs, earlier. While it could certainly be deadly, it wasn't exactly the most effective of weapons. What was he supposed to do if someone attacked him, say, "Please bend over and hold still while I cut your head off?"
Yeah. Not gonna work well. One of the basic principles of surviving a fight when you were a quarter the average Cybertronian height was to use ranged weapons.
He sighed, and admitted, "I'm worried if the 'cons attack they'll be coming after me as a traitor. I'm pretty much defenseless."
"Yeah, ah get that. You did good today, kid, an' we'll look out for you. Keep doin' good I'll see what I can do when the time's right."
He found he didn't even mind too much when Ironhide patted him on the arm before rising. Ironhide's approval was obvious, and to be approved of by such a big, tough, warrior felt amazing. He'd been a bit of a laughing stock to the Decepticon warriors on too many occasions. They'd never made fun of him to his face, but he was an expert at espionage, and he damn well knew what they said about him when they thought he couldn't hear.
Rumble would have been giddy with delight over something like this too. He'd have seen the irony, would have understood why Frenzy felt ten feet tall as he walked back to the med bay, and would have celebrated with him.
As Frenzy rounded the corner to the hall in front of the med bay entrance, he discovered Steeljaw was still curled up in the corridor on his pallet. However, his siblings were gone now. Optimus had moved closer, sitting next to him. Frenzy couldn't keep a smile from his face when Steeljaw lifted his head up. He greeted them with a cheerful, "Hey, Mouser. Hi, Boss."
"Frenzy." Steeljaw's voice was thick with the effect of sedatives and pain killers, but also warm with greeting. Optimus rumbled a greeting as well.
There were witnesses, including Optimus, a few dozen feet down the hall. He couldn't kiss Steeljaw like he wanted to, but he decided to hell with any other suspicions it might raise, and crouched down next to him, between Steeljaw and Optimus. "Where's your sibs?"
"Being repaired … they're always prioritized ahead of me. They're more versatile fighters."
He glanced up at Optimus, who was watching them. Optimus said, very much to Frenzy's surprise, "Someone should really stay with him, Frenzy. Blaster's got his hands full right now."
"I'll do it," he volunteered, immediately.
"Y... you should get some recharge." Steeljaw shook his head. "Heard you got in a fight, and you were working hard before that."
"He could recharge here," Optimus suggested, voice kind, though nearly as thick with medication as Steeljaw's was. "That pallet is big enough for both of you."
He considered the likelhood of being able to recharge in a hall full of Autobots, and wondered if he would be able to relax enough.. Apparently, Steeljaw came to the same conclusion, because he said bluntly, "I don't expect Frenzy's used to being able to trust his buddies enough to nap around 'em, Boss Bot. Frenzy, I-I'll be f-fine … I'm so doped I'm probably gonna drop off here in a minute anyway."
"I'll stay until you're out," he decided, settling down on his aft next to Steeljaw. To the Pit with what anyone thought. He was so close to Optimus that he could feel the exhaust gusting out of his vents. Optimus's systems were running hot as his auto-repair systems worked on his damage.
"It's really not necessary …" Steeljaw protested.
"Afraid to be seen with me?" He challenged, half afraid of the answer.
"No! You just need recharge too, and I don't need … need … need anyone to look out for me."
Optimus pinged him. He looked up. The leader of the Autobots pointed out, :Remember he was on his own for a long time after his first master and bondmates died. He needs people more than he likes to admit.:
:Yeah, I think I understand - he doesn't want to look vulnerable to anyone. Gotcha, Boss.: He rested a hand on Steeljaw's head. Down the hall, one of the minibots - Gears, he thought - fixed him with a suspicious look. He met Gear's optics, quirked up an optic ridge, and then smirked when Gears abruptly looked away.
Steeljaw huffed a sigh, but he reached out and put a battered hand on Frenzy's thigh for a second, then lowered his head down. A moment later, Frenzy heard his systems powering down into recharge.
Nobody was looking at them, now.
He should have gone off to Ratchet's quarters to catch a few hours of much needed recharge. Ratchet and Soundwave were already asleep, according to Prowl, who had warned him not to wake them. However, rather than leaving, he found himself scooting a little closer to Steeljaw and running a hand over his chiseled features. He could feel pits and scratches in the metal that hadn't been there before; shrapnel, he guessed.
Gears was staring again. Optimus was looking, too, but Optimus had a smile on his face.
Reluctantly, he removed his hand from the face of his lover before someone said something. He leaned back against the wall, and turned off his optics. He didn't feel threatened and, suddenly, he was so very tired ...
Steeljaw woke to the sound of Ratchet's voice calling his name. He blinked, and started to roll over onto his chest before he remembered that one of the many things that was broken was a clavicle strut. Wheeljack had done a sensor block shortly after the end of the battle, but it had worn off a long time ago, and he hissed with pain.
"Hey, kiddo." Ratchet smiled at him. "Thanks for being so patient with us."
He blinked, then said, "Long line ahead of me, not enough medics …" there was a hand resting on his neck. He thought for a second it was Eject, but when he glanced over, he realized Frenzy was curled up next to him, and still recharging. "Primus, he must have needed to defrag." His internal chronometer told him he'd been dozing for several hours. It was two AM - Ratchet had probably collapsed in exhaustion for a few hours sometime around mid afternoon before rising again. "He's really out cold."
Ratchet, wise to the ways of combat-hardened soldiers, said, "I could get a stick and we can poke him awake from a safe distance."
Despite his pain, Steeljaw rumbled an amused laugh. "Nah, he's not that jumpy." He reached out with his good arm, while still lying on his side, and prodded Frenzy in the thigh. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine."
True to his prediction, Frenzy just lifted his head up. He didn't lash out, though he did tense for a second. "Primus. Didn't mean to recharge for that long."
"You needed it as much as the rest of us." Ratchet shook his head. "The critical patients are all stabilized. The rest is just an endless slog of fragging repairs, and you'll make mistakes and piss me off if you're tired. Still, since you've had your beauty sleep, you want to help me get the surgical suite cleaned up for Lover Boy here?"
Steeljaw sighed. Ratchet was in a fine mood. Lover boy? He had a feeling that Ratchet would be teasing him until the day he died.
Frenzy stood up, gears in his hips whining a bit as he did. He grimaced, which got him a friendly cuff to the head from Ratchet. "Stop yer whining, kid. You're the one who chose to nap in a funny position."
Steeljaw was quite pleased by the smile that Frenzy flashed Ratchet. There was trust there. Frenzy moved out of the way, and then Ratchet carefully picked the entire pallet up that Steeljaw was resting on. He winced despite Ratchet's caution as the motion jostled his injuries. "Sorry, kiddo," Ratchet murmured, in an entirely different tone of voice than he'd just used on Frenzy. "Just a little bit longer, hmm?"
:You okay, Steelie?: Blaster asked, feeling the flare of pain.
:Fine. Ratchet's about to put me under.:
:Love you, buddy. I'll be there when you wake up. Just … we've got to get this comm array back up. It's slagged all to hell.:
:I know, I know. I'm sorry I can't help.: Blaster's affection for him was clear in the feelings that came across the bond. He knew Blaster had a job to do. Still, he felt just a little lonely.
Of course, his first master would have been a gibbering wreck by now. He'd not exactly been the most pragmatic of mechs under the best of circumstances … and had definitely not been a warrior. Overall, he preferred Blaster's approach, which was to keep tabs on him with an open bond, but calmly go about his very necessary work. When he woke up, Blaster and his siblings would be there to greet him. Of that, he had no doubt.
Frenzy trotted into the surgical suite to prepare the room; Ratchet set him down on a gurney. He really did hurt, and it was with some relief that he welcomed the flood of sedatives into his drip. His last awareness was of Ratchet's grin. "Night night, Lover Boy …"
"Frag …" he started to cuss Ratchet out, inhibitions destroyed by the medication. Then oblivion descended, his higher cerebral functions shut down, and he didn't even complete that angry thought.
Soundwave woke to the sound of quiet music, distantly audible through the bedroom door. He sat up, and the motion apparently triggered an alarm, because the music silenced and a second later an Autobot stepped through the doorway.
Apparently, Soundwave-sitting had been delegated to Jazz, who still had some obvious and unrepaired injuries of his own. It was the first time Soundwave had ever seen Jazz without his visor, and he looked very different - younger and somehow deceptively innocent. His mandibular joints had been damaged by a hard blow, but he smiled anyway, and said something cheerful.
It was time to test his communication skills, Soundwave decided, even as Jazz unhooked him from the medical monitors. Ratchet had left him a datapad on a berthside table. After Jazz hung a monitor to the inside of his chestplates (and it gave him more than a moment's pause to open up to let Jazz do that) he picked the datapad up. With a stylus, he printed, "Ratchet? Frenzy?" and showed Jazz.
Jazz produced a datapad of his own and wrote on it, "Ratchet, Soundwave" and "Med Bay" and an arrow between them. Then he made a shooing gesture towards the door. Clearly, he wanted Soundwave to proceed to the med bay.
Soundwave inclined his head in a nod. Ratchet could probably use some assistance, and he wished he had had not overslept his new master's rising.
Jazz walked beside him as he found his way to the med bay. He glanced over at the other mech repeatedly, unable to help contrasting Jazz's demeanor with that of any Decepticon. Jazz was cheerful, bouncing as he walked to unheard music, waving at others, striking up quick conversations that Soundwave couldn't follow. There was respect in the way the soldiers responded to him, but no fear, and it was so very clear that they loved him.
He was Starscream's counterpart as Optimus's second in command. How often had Soundwave walked beside Starscream on some errand, and watched the soldiers scurry aside, except for those seekers in Starscream's clique? Far from being happy to see Starscream - or, to be truthful, himself - the soldiers had gone to great pains to get out of their way. He had a hard time imagining the sort of cheerful banter following Starscream across the base.
They trusted Jazz. He'd observed levels of trust among all of the Autobots far beyond anything he could imagine among Decepticons. It seemed to be core to their culture. They liked each other, they relied on each other, and they assumed that no harm would come from their fellow Autobots.
He could take advantage of that assumption, he realized. If he behaved as they did, they would eventually come to trust him. Perhaps they would even like him. It was a heady realization, but he was learning quite a bit about how they functioned as he watched them. Even without words, the body language between mechs - such as just now, when Jazz greeted Bumblebee with an arm around his shoulders - spoke of tremendous amounts of trust. The little yellow minibot buried his face against Jazz's chest armor for a moment, seemingly overcome with emotions. Grief, perhaps, over the dead minibot.
He wouldn't return that trust, of course. He knew the foolishness of that! He had learned a very long time ago that even those closest to him, who should be beyond suspicion, might still betray him. Only the mechs whose sparks were tied to his could truly be trusted …
He thought of Frenzy, who was showing such attraction to Steeljaw. He had thought he could trust Frenzy, but it occurred to him that perhaps he was seeing signs of coming betrayal - warnings that Frenzy might fall in love with another, and might chose Blaster over Soundwave in order to be with Steeljaw.
A wild, desperate wail of loneliness and pain rose in his spark. No. He would not lose Frenzy. He would be competent and strong again. He would be someone that Frenzy would find desirable as a carrier.
To do that, he would need be successful again - competent, with responsibilities and authority, and able to provide for his symbiont - and he calculated that his best odds of that were to become part of the Autobot world. That meant earning their trust, their approval, and perhaps even letting them consider him a friend. It would require a very different approach than he had used to establish his position among the Decepticons.
His inability to communicate was certainly going to make things difficult on some levels, but on the other hand, the coldly pragmatic part of his spark knew it would also earn him sympathy. He didn't want their sympathy, but he certainly wasn't above using it.
They came across Sideswipe, who was carrying an armful of random bits of scrap metal. Jazz said something that sounded amused. Sideswipe retorted with irritation. Jazz teased him. Sideswipe finally cracked a grin, shook his head, and shifted his armload to give Jazz a human style salute before hurrying off.
… This was going to be interesting. He wasn't sure he could ever pull off that level of cameraderie. Maybe he could get away with simply being friendly.