Chapter 20: The Search Continues

"Oh wow … wow, look at that one and that one. Ugh, he's kind of fugly. And was that a femme? Bots, that was a femme!' said Hot Shot as he gapped and pointed and was basically his usual annoyance.

Brawn, the more sullen of the team and yet somehow Hot Shot's babysitter half the time, frowned and slapped the young bot in the back of the helm as he murmured, "What's wrong with that femme? She looks fine to me."

Hot Shot, who had been nothing but a gapping idiot since they got to Docker City, looked up at the large bulky Autobot and gave a nervous grin as he rubbed the back of his head, "N-nothing … except I totally thought she was a mech until she started putting on lip paint."

Brawn, after taking a moment to look shocked, slowly started to roll his hand into a fist as if to protect the honor of bulky femmes everywhere. Rodimus, noticing this, quickly interrupted as he stepped between the two, "Enough, especially you Hot Shot, stop staring and pointing and gawking. That behavior is very unbecoming … especially since this is not an Autobot Colony. We need to be on our best behavior. Interactions like this are rare enough as it is … especially with Docker City."

Yeah," murmured the young mech as he watched two large, winged and purple opticed femmes walk by, a sparkling with pink optics in one of their arms. "But … there are so many optic colors and I never imagined I would see someone with red optics that didn't want to kill me."

This time it was Red Alert that smack the young bot in the back of the head, her voice a hoarse whispered, "Quit. I already told you that most of this population was created from less than willing couplings, Hot Shot. It is rude to stare."

"But the wings … and the size and the optics and … and…"

"Hot Shot," said Rodimus, his tone now slightly irritated. "I will send you back to the docks and the ship if you don't show some self-restraint. Yes, many of these mechs and femmes were create from less than loving couplings. That is not their fault, but just like you are acting right now, mechs treated them badly for the characteristics they received from one of their creators. That is why they made this city … so they could be rid of the gawkers and those that would discriminate against them. So, please desist before you make some-bot angry."

Hot Shot took a moment to look ashamed, before he weakly nodded his head, "I understand … I just couldn't help myself."

Nodding as well, accepting that as the best apology he was going to get, the Prime motioned for his group to gather round as he pulled up a vid-map of the city. They all gathered around, already knowing the game plan … though Rodimus had long since learned that some mechs in the group, pretty much all of them except for Red Alert, got distracted easily and needed to be reminded what their job was.

"Alright team, first of all, please be on your best behavior. Things are not exactly shaky with Docker City, but they aren't good either. We have very few peace treaties with them and basically no trade. Probably our own fault since we won't even recognize them as their own self sustaining, neutral, city-state, but that is beside the point," added Rodimus, his own political opinion on the matter peaking through for a moment. "That is why I have already called ahead and asked to be here, but that doesn't mean they can't retract their invitation. Now, Ironhide and Hot Shot, I'm going to ask you two to go to local hotels and ask if anyone has seen Sentinel … or this Rift Ring as the dock worker called him."

Hot Shot moaned at this, but otherwise nothing was said.

"Brawn, I would like you to check into some of local bar joints. I still don't think it's entirely implausible that he's drinking away his sorrows," said Rodimus.

Hot Shot, for his part, looked insulted, "What? Why does he get the fun job?"

"Because," said Rodimus with a stern tone. "You didn't graduate that long ago from the Academy … which means that you are not old enough for high grade. Unless, you've been doing something behind my back that you shouldn't be doing?"

Ironhide snorted at this while Hot Shot merely looked a guilty like his hand had been caught in the energon cookie jar.

"Well, I, no … it's not like I've been sneaking medical high grade or anything … or …," stumbled Hot Shot before Brawn let loose a bellowing laugh at what a bad liar the youth was, slapping him hardily on the back and nearly knocking him over.

Rodimus and the other older mechs did not look convinced as the chuckled or glared at the youngest member of the group. Rodimus personally didn't blame the youth. He wasn't that much older than Hot Shot, a few vorns, so he understood the want to be an adult and do adult things. Truthfully, Brawn and Red Alert were the oldest members of the team so he did not put the other down for his age.

"Regardless," continued Rodimus, interrupting the awkward conversation. "Brawn will check the local bars. Red Alert will check with the local hospitals and … morgues. And I will check with the city's private guard. Everyone got that?"

There were murmurs of affirmative and sure thing, and then the Prime added, "We meet back at the ship in five groons. Everyone clear? Alright, roll out."

…

"Ugh…. If one more mech looks at us as if we are a couple looking for a room, I'm going to offline myself," grumbled Hot Shot as he stumbled out of the last rooming establishment.

Ironhide merely chuckled at the thought, though he did mumbled, "At least that last place gave us an idea of what Sentinel's been up to."

"Yeah, if you can make any sense out of it? Why would he put in an inquiry about organics? He hates organics," grumbled Hot Shot as he tried not to stare at a blue opticed flier.

"Yeah, it is confusing … though that last hotel hostess made me wonder, who do you think she thought was the pitcher and the catcher?" said Ironhide, a wicked grin covering his face as he mocked the other.

Hot Shot, flabbergasted for the moment, didn't even get to defend himself when the larger mech added, "Pff, that was a stupid question. Of course she knew I would be the pitcher."

"W-wait? What! No, no. no!" tired to defend the younger mech, a blush lighting up his cheeks.

"Well, small mechs always get the bottom, runt. You better learn that now, but don't worry," said Ironhide as he pulled out a cy-gar, smiling wickedly down at the other bot. "I'm not into your model."

The smaller mech could only blush harder and grumble, "Thank Primus for small favors."

Ironhide, looking at the digi-map of the city as he smoked his cy-gar, merely chuckled at the other, "Oh, I don't know about that Hot Shot. If that last mech teller hadn't thought we were together, he would have been snatching up your aft so fast you would have had whiplash. You do know that seeker-models kidnap their prospective mates and bed them in nests, way up high, don't-chay?"

"Wait? What? Na-uh! Y-you're lying, right? Right?!" squeaked Hot Shot, nearly jumping out of his armor when a seeker model gave him a smile from a nearby vendor.

…

"Hick. What? Really? They went to this Archa 7, and it's in the middle of nowhere? Dang. And you are sure Sentinel, hick, I mean Rift Ring went with that science team. Science really … isn't his thing," slurred Brawn, half crocked out of his helm as the larger mix breed mechs gave him another drink.

"Sure do. Pretty little mech. Dang nice aft. I would have tried tapping that if he looked like he was staying. Though I can't wait for the team to come back, Aquila went with them and he's a fun drunk. Let me just tell you."

Brawn nodded in agreement, though he had no idea who Aquila was … or why he had started drinking … or who he was talking to for that matter. How much had he had in the last groon? All he knew was that he was glad that he was given this part of the mission and that his helm was going to hurt in the morning.

…

Red Alert was quite impressed with how well stocked the hospitals in Docker City were … and yet at the same time she wasn't surprised. She, like every medic on Cybertron that had any type of education, knew what happened at Docker City. It specialized in birthing … and abortions. In fact, if she didn't believe that Sentinel was suicidal, she would think that Sentinel had come to this city for the one thing it specialized in: pregnancies.

She didn't know who would want to sleep with that jerk, for that matter share their spark with him, but then again she didn't want to imagine what kind of mech would be into Sentinel.

For a brief moment she almost chuckled because there seemed to be only one mech interested in Sentinel Minor and that was Optimus' Prime. It was a ridiculous thought.

Regardless, she knew this was no time for fun and games, not that she considered herself much of a game person; she preferred a quiet evening with her test tubes and scalpels. And so she found herself before the hospital's director's door. She knocked kindly, having been directed and called ahead for by a nurse. Nonetheless, she still couldn't get the chill out of her armor that there were abortions going on right now in the building. And though she knew the importance of the procedure and how some mechs just couldn't support a sparkling, her Autobot coding refused to have any leeway and labeled it as a bad practice.

Nevertheless, this wasn't her city. She had no say about anything in this place.

And so she promised to be as distant from the subject as possible as she spoke to the head director.

Surprisingly, the director was a small femme with kind optics (despite being a haunting pink color that hinted to her origins) that had answered all of her questions as if she knew all the answers. Code, the director, said knew nothing of a mech called Sentinel Minor or his alias: Rift Ring. She kindly reported that there were no mechs matching Sentinel's description that had been placed in the morgue or had been hospitalized for self-inflicted wounds. She hadn't even twitched at the subject matter. Most healers on Cybertron would have thought the idea preposterous. It was so rare for a mech to overcome their coding and be able to offline themselves, but Code was not surprised at all. In fact, she said there was a lovely physiological wing to the hospital where Sentinel could come and stay if need be until he recovered. Her tone was almost happy when she expressed this.

It was a bit disturbing how she carried that smile on her face the whole time, calm and collected. She was obviously a femme that had seen many horrors and likely believed the best way to get through the day was with a smile on her face.

In the end, after being given a few names of local prescriptions for anti-depressants that could be purchased in the city, the only real piece of information that was later of any use to the femme was something she overheard. Walking down the halls, past a door labeled Dr. Restart, she overheard a nearby nurse telling another nurse that Restart had been sent off planet to patch up a strange neutral with blue optics that had almost got himself offlined. She knew about it because the list of replacement armor just kept growing and now they might need to contact an orphanage. Apparently, the injured neutral had had a tag along and not even known that he was carrying. It had likely been a rape.

Too bad she did not realize how important that information was until vorns later, her mind too busy wondering if Sentinel was still alive or not to question the name of Restart and his patient.

…

"So, he didn't seem like he was up to anything suspicious then?" asked Rodimus as he stood before the captain of the city's private guard.

"I met him briefly when he asked to enter the city, but he didn't seem nefarious. Why? Is there something I should be aware of. He is currently with a party of Docker City citizens and their safety is my concern," said Trimmer. A tall and broad mech, helicopter blades hanging over his shoulders like a cape. He was a regal figure and Rodimus would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit intimidated by him. He was obviously an old and powerful soldier and Rodimus wanted to ask if Trimmer was really a half breed or a full bred Con. The mech was just so well built and bulky and as frightening as the pit. He even had red optics … but they had this deep sadness to them that a Con could never know.

Shaking off the rude thought, Rodimus continued, "No, no. Sentinel has always been an avid, rule enthusiast. He wouldn't harm anyone."

"Is that so?" said the large mech, his vocals deep and baritone and strangely soothing. "And yet he disobeyed your peoples' laws, went AWOL, and took on a secret identity. Sentinel Minor does not seem to be a rule enthusiast … unless his enthusiasm is in breaking the rules."

Rodimus Prime, forcing a meek smile, stiffly murmured, "Well, yes. He is no longer a picture candidate, but he was. He was so loyal to the Magnus and Cybertron. He has never shown an ounce of disloyalty until now. That is why we are not jumping to judgment on the matter."

Optics squinting, the large copter hummed for a moment in thought, his blades twitching slightly as he asked bluntly, "And yet, for one that was a picture candidate, you have to wonder what could make him abandon your cause so easily?"

Rodimus could find no reply to the question.

And so, about a groon after getting a star map from the Captain of the Guard for the planet Sentinel's science team had headed to, Rodimus still couldn't get over the large mech's words. Really, had the punishment been too harsh for Sentinel Minor? Did losing his status (that he could probably gain again in a few vorns) really matter so much when he obviously had abused his power?

Automatically, one would have said no. Sentinel deserved his punishment … and yet Rodimus felt that wasn't the real problem. The ex-Prime had not fought to keep his position. He hadn't screamed and kicked and yelled as he was stripped of his title. There was a deeper sadness there. A sadness that made him believe that Red Alert was correct … and that they would be taking home a body.

Regardless of Timmer's words though, Rodimus now stood at their ship's controls looking over his team, his frown apparent, "So, he's made an inquiry looking for teams doing organic exploration and he left with a science team to a planet called Archa 7. And that … is all we know of Sentinel's plans."

"Yes, well at least he's not offline," agreed Red Alert, the two of them having not expressed their concerns of Sentinel being suicidal to the rest of the group though it was always heavily apparent. "So, what do you think? Do you think that he abandoned the Autobot cause for … organic research on Archa 7?"

For a moment, the team all looked at each other and then Brawn, Hot Shot and Ironhide broke out in laughter, almost all of them agreeing that that was the most ridiculous thing they had ever heard. Sentinel's organic phobia was known far and wide.

Then, as the laughter slowly died, a darker thought started to churn in all their minds. Rodimus, clearing his throat, spoke softly, "So the question is: what is Sentinel Minor up to and should we be concerned or not?"

Everyone frowning, Ironhide was the first to answer the question, "Either way, I think we should inform the Magnus or at least Optimus Prime. Sentinel will still have to answer for his behavior."

"I agree," said Rodimus a moment later as he motioned for the other's to get to work. "Start prepping the ship for the long journey. I will contact the Magnus with our news."

Red Alert, on the other servo, merely stood there with a forlorn expression on her face as the other's rushed to their respective duties. Most of the team thought they would have to go to a no name organic planet and waste their time on a lowly turncoat. She thought something much, much worse. If Sentinel never wanted to be found or if he wanted it to look like an accident, an organic planet like Archa 7 would be perfect for suicide. Frowning, softly, she hoped that if there would be a body found … it wouldn't be young Hot Shot that found it or for that matter anyone but her. She had seen this before. Her spark was already scarred by the thoughts of one of their kind offlining themselves. No one else should have to have their spark darkened by such images.

And yet, as if reading her thoughts, a kind red hand was placed on her shoulder, Rodimus whispering, "Don't underestimate him Red Alert. He may be a jerk, but he was still an Autobot and an Autobot is stubborn and does not die easily. If you are right, a part of him is still fighting and trying to do the right thing. Hopefully, he will let us save him. He knows that we don't leave our own behind."

Red Alert slowly nodded her head, praying her Prime was right. She just hoped there was someone left to save.

XXX

Paw07: Hmmm, sorry for the lateness. I've been working on my personal novel and short stories. Sometimes I put them on Fictionpress. Feel free to check it out.