Enter the Complimentary Follow-Up
Chapter 6
Everything within Knock Out's dwindling power reserves was absorbed into remaining alert. He didn't exactly feel on the comeback trail yet and stepping onto a dropship that looked more like a flying citadel didn't exactly play down his anxieties. Just because he was able to dodge a huge bullet back there didn't mean he was safe now. Thundercracker's words kept playing back in his weary processor.
You better keep showing them you're worth the trouble.
It was a statement that got up under his plating because it was a declaration that seemed to dominate his life. It also caused him to finally catch up to the reality of his situation. He wasn't headed for his complex next to the clinic after this long excursion. He wasn't headed to his berth to enjoy a few moments of polishing his finish while listening to the evening broadcasts. He wasn't going home.
Truly running on fumes now, the medic fought to keep himself vertical as he tried to work out how he got so deep into this mess to begin with. It appeared he wasn't the only one.
"So, ah, you were in the higher classes then, huh?" Breakdown asked, attempting to sound casual but finding it difficult to do considering all the excitement that just took place over the fact. Knock Out sighed, choosing to keep his gaze forward as they walked.
"Yes," the medic answered briskly; curtly. Breakdown took a moment to digest the response. He had been so caught up in all the commotion surrounding these events, the revelation of Knock Out being from an upper caste hadn't fully registered. It sort of explained some aspects of the dynamic, red mech walking beside him and, yet, raised even more questions for the blue-colored warrior.
"Scientific?" he asked. Knock Out scoffed; optics still forward.
"Don't I wish. No, no; I was third-tier compared to them. Artistic," the medic said with just enough discredit to cause Breakdown to frown.
"Well, still, you . . ." Breakdown began until Knock Out interpreted it as that oh, so familiar passing of judgment he couldn't stand. It had been a while since he let that appraisal get to him but in his tired state . . .
"Contrary to popular belief, it's not all easy street at the top, especially when you're the lid!" he snapped; optics still set forward.
Breakdown regarded the smaller mech with a look of wounded confusion; a look Knock Out missed— too focused on past resentments to notice. Honestly, the medic didn't know why he was so upset all of a sudden. It's not like he hadn't dealt with any of this before, but something about engaging Breakdown in it made his energon boil. Again, it appeared he wasn't the only one.
"I was gonna say, you still managed to secure a spot on one of the topmost squadrons the Decepticons have to offer in one go, but, hey, what do I know," Breakdown groused in equal provocation, breaking stride with the medic by slowing down. Knock Out nearly tripped at both the pace shift and the unexpected praise.
"Well, I . . . how was I . . . I mean . . . ?!" he sputtered, anger and embarrassment fighting for space as he finally turned to look up at the other mech before settling on, "Sorry. Thank you."
To the medic's surprise—and unadmitted relief—the warrior's stern features relaxed.
"Forget it," Breakdown said dismissively even though he was caught off guard by the apology. It wasn't often he heard others admit fault, especially to him. It made the warrior more forgiving than usual.
"I'd be cranky too if I looked as drained as you do," he smirked. Knock Out gave a wry smile.
"Gee, thanks. You're looking exceptionally worn-out yourself."
Breakdown shook his helm in humor as he gestured ahead with one servo.
"Come on, there's the dispenser room over there. We'll grab some energon and then meet up with the rest of the crew, I guess. I'm sure they'll come to find us before we get up in the air."
"Either that or they're hoping we'll roll off the ship during takeoff," Knock Out quipped as he looked to the automatic doors sliding open at their approach, "I think Duststorm would rather mount my hood on a wall than have me as a compatriot."
"Well, you did pretty much humiliate her in front of Megatron," Breakdown supplied as they stepped inside. The room had a few tables set in the center while a countertop ran around the perimeter of the space; appropriate seating was at each surface. There were four energon banks spaced apart along the dark, grey walls and three receptacles holding containers set between them.
"Me?! Humiliate her? How?" the medic objected as he wasted no time grabbing a cube and filling it up to the brim. It had been ages since he'd seen so much energon in one place. The stuff was in such short supply at present, that even medical outfits had to ration out their reserves. Breakdown followed suit with his own vessel, listening to Knock Out continue as they sat up at the counter.
"I mean, yes, she was ordered by Megatron to take us out the back way . . . and I, that is to say, we did get away from her to confront him about it . . . I guess a top sniper losing an unarmed medic probably doesn't look good in front of the boss … then there's the whole promotion in one solar cycle thing . . . okay, I see your point," Knock Out conceded as Breakdown looked on in slight amusement at the doctor's attempt to politely guzzle down energon between pauses.
"Glad to hear it, cause you might want to try getting along with this squad better than the last one, you know, considering Megatron basically called you a coward and all," Breakdown stated nonchalantly before taking a swig of his ration. Knock Out gave the warrior an impressive side glare before setting down his empty glass, placing the elbow joint of his left arm on the counter, and resting his chin upon the open servo in thought.
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Say, it looks like you know this Rampart fella pretty good, so that's a start, right?"
"Well, sort of; maybe," Breakdown stated cautiously, something disagreeing in his tone, "but I think Duststorm may hold more sway. She was the one accompanying Lord Megatron after all," he advised. Knock Out shuttered his optics a few times, hoping that wasn't true, before lifting his helm suddenly.
"Hey, Megatron isn't on this ship too, is he?" he asked just as abruptly.
"No, he and Soundwave are probably headed back for the main battle lines. I think the front is moving further north," Breakdown stated. Knock Out visibly relaxed and set his helm back down.
"Oh, good. I mean, do you know anyone else in this outfit?" the medic asked, biting back a yawn at the end. He would have figured getting some energon into his system would have had a rousing effect, but it appeared to be doing the opposite.
"Well, I know the PSF tends to switch up ranks now and again. I think Firebreaker might be here, but I can't say I know him that well . . ." Breakdown mused as he looked to the ceiling, trying to recall. Knock Out found the low timbre of his voice to be delightfully soothing. His optics dimmed as the warrior carried on.
"The only reason I know Rampart is because I met him in Kaon after moving up to warrior class with the Decepticons. He's brutal but fair, I guess. He's the one who kind of showed me the ropes," Breakdown said pensively, glancing at the medic. Knock Out had the wherewithal to lift his helm and give Breakdown a small nod to resume, but the reverberation of the ship's engines activating felt invitingly lulling and he dropped right back down. The warrior didn't seem to notice the medic leaning in further than was necessary to listen.
"But he can be a real piston rod. Once, Rampart and I tried to secure a new energon source we found near enemy territory before the Autobots showed up, but of all the lousy timing, a scouting party was coming our way. There had to be like ten or fifteen Autobot fighters. I was still getting the hang of things back then, but I'll tell you what, I didn't shy away from a fight. As we held our ground, you know what that . . . huh?"
In the middle of his epic account, Breakdown felt a sudden weight on his right arm. He turned to see Knock Out had slid into him, completely dead to the world in recharge.
"Come on, I'm not that boring," the warrior griped, trying to wake the medic by nudging him into an upright position. Knock Out's unfocused optics flickered briefly as he vocalized incoherent protests about fuel distribution. He managed to teeter on consciousness for a klik or two before abruptly slumping down again, showing no signs of getting back up.
Breakdown stared at the resting mech for a moment, thinking about the staggering number of surgeries the young doctor had just performed. He supposed it was reason enough for the exhaustion until he turned a suspect optic onto the medic's empty energon cube. He slowly, deliberately, placed his half-empty one down.
Suddenly, the automatic doors opened, drawing Breakdown's attention. Rampart stood in the entranceway; his heavily armored body casting a long shadow along the floor. His electric purple optics scanned the room until he spotted the two.
"Good, you found it alright!" the fortified fighter quipped as he came in fully, stepping over to the pair. Breakdown shifted to face Rampart better and, albeit subconsciously, hide the medic from view. The movement did nothing to stir the doctor.
"Yeah, I've gotten a whole lot better at the navigation thing since last you saw me. Helps to know where to find the enemy, right?" Breakdown replied guardedly, using the other mech's words from the past. Despite being able to describe his acquittance with the other warrior as agreeable, Breakdown didn't see it as one based on mutual respect.
Rampart gave a complacent vent.
"Same old, Break. I knew you were fluky, even from the start. What kind of scout gets recognized for finding the wrong target, uh? And, now look atcha . . . Megatron himself puts you on the PSF but I hear it's as some kind of medical assistant now? Real cushy. Real docile. I don't know if we should change your designation to Lucky Break or Tough Break, huh?" the combatant stated, using the closest wall as support as he leaned his back against it.
"I can't argue that, but I am still pretty good at smashing things too," Breakdown replied, transforming his left servo into a hammer, and giving the countertop a good smack for emphasis. If the gesture just so happened to disturb the dozing mech beside him, well, even better.
"It's okay; I'm still billing the patient!" Knock Out blurted as his helm shot up so fast, that he nearly slipped from his seat. In an attempt to stay erect, he fanned his arms out along the counter's surface, bumping the energon cubes off to the floor. Both Breakdown and Rampart tilted away from the action, giving Knock Out confused looks as the medic did the same to them. Rampart was the first to recover.
"Were you . . . sleeping?" he directed at the doctor, who was now trying desperately to hold onto dignity as he drew his servos together in a clasped position. He felt there was more at stake here, seeing as he was waking in the company of two Decepticon warriors instead of the supervising physician at Eten's clinic. Stars, did he miss home.
"Ah, just a quick power down to clear my sensors. All those surgical procedures must have left me a bit fatigued, but I'm fine now. Great energon, by the way. Doesn't have that . . ." Knock Out paused as he glanced down at Breakdown's spilled fuel before looking back up with a sheepish grin, "polymer taste."
"Huh? I can see why you rushed him off now, Break," Rampart stated, directing a quirked optic ridge at the medic who decided it might be a good time to change the subject.
"Anyway, I'm guessing we're already headed towards Uraya, correct?"
"Yes," Rampart answered, half between skepticism and amusement. Knock Out leaped off his stool, taking care to avoid stepping in the puddle, and proceeded to pull out a celluloid cleaning cloth from his subspace. He didn't like the fact Rampart was yet another mech who wore a mouthguard, but he assumed by the fighter's tone the focus had been successfully shifted.
"Great! I can't wait to meet the rest of the team. Give me a moment to clean this up and we'll be on our way," the doctor said as he dropped the material and watched it flutter over the mess.
Breakdown turned in his seat to face the other two. He was becoming a master at the incredulous helm shake. Knock Out never ceased to amaze him when it came to the ability to recover from awkward situations so smoothly. It was a gift he'd wished he had ages ago, but he also knew it was something that wouldn't escape Rampart's attention either, but for entirely different reasons.
"No problem, Conk Out. I'm sure everyone will be charged to meet you, too," Rampart teased as he pushed off the wall to walk in behind the pair. Breakdown began to unconsciously wring his servos together. He knew Knock Out would respond, but the medic didn't know this mech as he did. Once Rampart found a sore spot in someone, he always kept that ammunition ready.
Knock Out stopped swirling the energon around with his ped and narrowed his optics. Obviously, his faux pas wasn't so easily dismissed.
"It's Knock Out! . . ." he started before catching Breakdown's anxiety-ridden expression. Under certain circumstances, the medic probably would have taken heed of this, but in this case, he rolled his optics. Really? . . . What was Breakdown so worried about? He knew what he was doing.
"But, what's the difference, am I right, Slampart?" the doctor purred, adding a chuckle at the end for good measure as he turned to face the gold-and-grey mech. To Breakdown's amazement, Rampart let out a robust laugh. It made him suspicious, but his old mentor kept the good-humored tone.
"You know what? I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Knock Out, but you'll have to try harder than that if you want to endear yourself to the rest of the crew," the armored fighter stated plainly.
Knock Out looked momentarily surprised before sighing resignedly. He really must be that easy to read among these military types. Who knew? Still, he was mingling well enough now to use it to his advantage and use it to the full he would.
"That so, hmm? And who else might I need to endear myself most to, if you catch my meaning?" the doctor asked shrewdly.
"I think you've already left an impression with one of them," Rampart answered while giving Breakdown a conspicuous wink. Once again, the blue warrior shook his helm despairingly as he made the connection immediately.
"Really!? When?" the medic—not quite as quick—asked; though, in his defense, he was tired. Still, it didn't take long.
"Wait . . . no . . . you mean Duststorm?!" Knock Out squawked, forgetting about the mess on the floor and his poise. Rampart's optics brightened in genuine mirth.
"That's Lieutenant Commander Duststorm," he stated smartly.
"Well, scrap," the medic said miserably before adding in a more carefree tone, "I guess you can't win 'em all over."
"Knock Out," Breakdown stated warningly. He knew there had to be a catch to Rampart's jovial demeanor, there always was. He received a huffy look from the medic for his trouble.
"What? I didn't know she went off and became some junior captain of a Decepticon warship. The last time I spoke with Storm was when she still ran hits for the Syndicate in Kalis," Knock Out pronounced with a shrug.
"Yeah, back when you were just another fall-from-grace sob-story trying to scratch out a living among us criminal types and, yet, here we are," a voice said from the entranceway. All three mechs turned to face Duststorm as she strode in; heeled boot-like pedes rapping along the floor as she did so. The femme's gaze was unexpectedly calm but firmly fixed on the medic.
Breakdown sighed. And there was the catch.
Knock Out just stared back at her, features reflecting equal composure. He knew his well-being rested on not antagonizing her any further, but his wounded pride wouldn't allow him to cow down completely either.
"Well, then it looks like we both did very nicely for ourselves, Lieutenant Commander Duststorm, and I hope to carry that same success forward with our mission to Uraya," he stated respectfully, giving a slight bow and instantly regretting it as his balance teetered with fatigue. The sniper came to stop right in front of the medic.
"Good," she replied simply; a small sneer curling up her faceplates.
"Wonderful," he responded; a forced smirk adorning his.
Breakdown and Rampart exchanged looks of differing uncertainty as both Duststorm and Knock Out's frames increasingly tensed. It looked as if the two were in a standoff of some kind, but it wasn't clear to either warrior as to why. Rampart finally decided he didn't care.
"Enough with the drama," he cut in, breaching the two smaller cybertronians' attention on each other, "If you're not going to fight, I have a ship to run . . ."
Breakdown started.
"Wait?! You mean, you're in charge here!?" he exclaimed; his disbelief palpable. Knock Out's less than subtle fist pump of triumph didn't go unnoticed either.
"Well, don't sound too happy, Break," Rampart said with burning sarcasm, causing the medic to pause in what he thought was a victory. Why was Breakdown sounding so worried? Why did Duststorm look downright scandalized? Before he could say anything, however, the gold-and-grey mech continued.
"I'm only temporarily captaining this flying heap until we reach Uraya. I prefer my treads on the ground where the action is. Switchblade will take over from there once we arrive."
"In my opinion, it can't happen soon enough," Duststorm growled, turning slightly to face the exit. At that moment, Rampart was wickedly inspired.
"You know what, Knock Out?"
The red mech nearly jumped at the frosty mention of his name. The frame of reference he had for this towering combatant was beginning to shift from possible advantage to dangerous drawback.
"Yes?" he said uncertainly.
"Forget the mess, I'll have someone else clean it up. You and Breakdown follow the Lieutenant here. She'll help you dust off our sickbay. And, Duststorm, since it appears you've already agreed to help with the success of their mission, I don't see why you can't lead it up from here; help our newest asset get battle-ready as Lord Megatron asked," he stated. Duststorm recoiled at the remark.
"What?!" the femme shouted as she spun around and faced the provisional commander, "You can't dump the entire responsibility of this disaster on me . . . "
"Uh-uh, I can assign any task I want to anyone I want. Remember, Lieutenant, you're still in that trial run period and I'd hate to see how far your pretty little helm would roll compared to some of the other so-called ruthlessly efficient warriors I've seen," Rampart said coldly.
Duststorm's optics flashed in challenging anger, but her vocalizer practiced submissive restraint.
"Yes, Commander. Come with me, fellas," she said calmly, turning to advance out of the room. Knock Out gave the whole scene one more look of trepidation before, unexpectedly, bolting out after her. Breakdown stood with Rampart a moment longer as if considering something. Finally, the blue warrior shifted.
"You haven't changed much either, Commander Rampart. See you around, sir," he said before stepping forward to follow the others. Down the hall, he spotted the medic and sniper caught up in another stalemate of sorts, though, instead of an atmosphere of hostility, it appeared to be one of mutual regard.
"Please, tell me this isn't like the Fusion," he heard Knock Out exclaim as he approached the two.
"It's even worse when the coups are a free-for-all," Duststorm replied spitefully, before turning an unhappy optic on the medic, "you really should have just followed me out the back way."
"Dare I ask why that is?" Knock Out questioned as he frettingly glanced up at Breakdown. Duststorm's despondency twisted into a forbidding smirk.
"Don't misunderstand, I'm still steamed you managed to impress Lord Megatron so easily, but he had you pegged so well."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Knock Out protested; his apprehension chased away by his ego.
"It means, hotshot, that he knew you wouldn't listen to me or Onslaught. He told us as much. It also means he genuinely expects both of you to succeed at this."
"Really?" Knock Out and Breakdown asked in unified astonishment.
"Yes, and Rampart believes failure will result in the termination of you and anyone else associated with the botch-up," she stated, giving them a pointed look. The blue warrior wasn't fazed.
"Well, we just won't fail then, right, Knock Out?" he said confidently, turning to the stock-still medic. There was no response. Duststorm folded her arms in amusement while Breakdown undid his in concern.
"Um, Knock Out?" he tried again. The doctor finally winced.
"Uh-huh, the ship hasn't taken off yet, has it?" he voiced meekly.
"Sorry about your luck, Hard Knocks," Duststorm smiled, drawing a scowl from the mech at the use of the nickname, "But your fortunes are about to change. Come on, let's head to the sparring room."
"And why would we be heading there instead of sickbay?" Knock Out inquired as he and Breakdown began to follow Duststorm down the corridor. She raised an open servo in a gesture of explanation.
"If I'm the one who has to get your sorry aft battle-ready, I need to see what I'm dealing with."