Several cycles later at the beginning of first shift, Mirage walked into the kitchen to find Megatron sipping a cube. There was no one else in the room. The Slagmaker was reading a datapad and didn't immediately notice him. Or more likely given honed combat protocols, had previously noticed him, logged his lack of armaments, downgraded his presence to non-threatening, and continued to sip/read/scowl.
"Greetings." Mirage said politely, Tempest grumbling against his chest. The sparkling had woken early, bitten his sire, spat up energon from Thundercracker's line, and then grizzled until his foster-carrier had cuddled him. The Seekers weren't happy but had sent him downstairs to find some lowgrade while they cleaned up.
"Greetings." The warlord returned, setting down his datapad and cube. His optics tracked from Mirage's badge to Tempest, who met his gaze with an inquisitive beep. "He is more active."
"Yes, he's responding well to spark donation." This was going to be a perfectly ordinary polite conversation of no particular importance. One rung up from chatting about the weather. Which they didn't have quite yet but would soonish once the atmosphere thickened enough to sustain condensation. With luck, that wouldn't mean a return to acid rain.
"Give him here." Megatron ordered. It was incontestably an order.
"Thundercracker asked me to mind Tempest." The noble gave the only objection he thought he could get away with. It was a feeble protest. He wasn't sure what he would do if the Decepticon Supreme Commander grabbed the sparkling.
"Do you imagine I will hurt him?" The question was deceptively smooth.
"No." Mirage answered fast, verbally swerving to avoid crashing into that pit. No, he didn't think Megatron would deliberately hurt the only sparkling born to his forces in megavorn. What he did think would happen was too steeped in frame-type bias and high caste prejudice for him to safely comment. Megatron wouldn't hurt Tempest on purpose. That restraint did not extend to an Autobot parolee.
The noble moved closer to the table to carefully detach the sparkling. The Slagmaker's big, killing hands reached up for the tiny mech, supporting him correctly until he had Tempest settled in his lap. The little jet of course immediately poked the buttons on Megatron's abdomen blissfully unaware the last mech Mirage had seen do that had been punched so hard his processor had ended up in his fuel tank.
In reprisal, Megatron rubbed the tip of one digit over Tempest's little cockpit, tickling him. The sparkling squeaked then giggled then looked mortally offended as though insulted someone would besmirch his dignity. He poked again, jabbing buttons before pausing to glare when no tickle was forthcoming.
"Definitely Starscream's." The gunformer chuckled. And tickled.
"He does have some behavioural idiosyncrasies already." Mirage agreed, aware he was hovering. He went to the cooler to rummage for suitable fuel. Soundwave kept a well-stocked pantry, or tried to in the face of his horde's ravening appetites. There were never any rust sticks despite numerous empty boxes to verify their purchase.
Megatron growled something in Tarnish at the seekerling, who warbled back in Vosian. Tempest reached for the half-full cube on the table, which was swiftly moved out of the way. He sulked, beeping and vocalising in a mix of Neo-Cybex and English. Mirage listened sharply for anything inappropriate, poised to record any evidence.
"I want you to speak to Ratchet." Megatron stated. "We need him integrated into the medical corps quickly."
Mirage felt the focus of those red optics as physical heat. He was a member of the provisional government. Megatron was the head of state until, or if, there were elections. The noble had the impression the Decepticons were going to continue running Cybertron on military lines at least until reconstruction was finished. However long an eternity that took.
"I presume Hook or whoever else deemed appropriate has briefed Ratchet on the situation?" The spy inquired while trying not to sound too inquisitive or reluctant. Questioning the Slagmaker did not lead to a long functioning.
"He has been given access to the non-classified data." Megatron steadied Tempest as the sparkling tried to pull himself up to climb. There was a lot of up to this new person. The little jet liked up. "Including personnel medical files. He has accessed them." His optics narrowed but his tone did not alter. He did not want to alarm the bitlet. "He has not deigned to share his assessment."
"Ratchet and I have an affable professional relationship." Mirage was not going to promise anything he could not deliver. The punishments Starscream faced for failure were notable. "We are not friends. We have never been socially close. I will ask, as requested, but persuading him may be beyond me."
"If he does not cooperate, we will force download his archives." There was no anticipatory sadism, no air of savoured menace. The statement was a fact. There was too much at stake to make idle threats.
"I will ask Ratchet to willingly share his medical archives to help the research if he does not wish to participate personally." He ventured after a careful pause to edit out his first response querying Megatron's processor integrity. Threatening Ratchet would make the old ambulance dig his peds in harder. Mirage did not want to suggest threatening to threaten someone else would be more successful.
"Do so."
Doing so involved an escort to the hospital. Mirage was surprised the uncooperative medic wasn't in the Detention Centre just so Megatron could prove the point they wanted his help but didn't need it. Except they did need it, so Ratchet was in a secure quarantine room under guard. Deadlock wasn't there, another surprise.
"Greetings, Minister." Barricade said with a smirk. He looked very much like Prowl but no one would ever mistake them for each other. That twist of his intake with a flash of fang was distinctive among the conformity of Cold-Constructed Praxian Enforcers.
"Don't be an aft." Skywarp, tasked with escort duty after he picked a quarrel with Rumble, snapped when it became obvious the grounder was going to ignore him.
"Protocol." The Mustang showed a lot more denta this time, clearly enjoying himself. "You're his minion, Seeker. And you're under disciplinary sanction. You're lucky you're not saluting the cleaning drones."
"Shouldn't you be driving in circles somewhere cheap?" The Seeker snarked back with a dismissive flick of his wings. He loomed forward to menace in the classic Decepticon interpersonal stance.
Mirage stepped aside out of the way to avoid being swatted or dragged into the brewing dispute. 'Cons liked to argue. He'd seen them pick fights over someone venting too close. Hoping to achieve something before security intervened, he waved to Ratchet through the small observation window. The medic stood up from the berth and came to the door. He activated the comm with an irritated slap.
"There's nothing I can do about the spark instability." Ratchet said firmly.
"You are certain?" Mirage asked because he would be asked if he had asked, someone always did even if they knew the CMO was always certain. He would say if he wasn't sure or didn't have enough data or equipment. Repeatedly until the lack was solved if it could be.
"It's a symptom. Same with the infertility." He glared at the 'Cons when they shut up to listen. "Hook and your other hacks can ameliorate the worst." Ratchet asserted then paused, his care oaths likely warring with his dislike of violent thugs. "I counsel against anyone who went into stasis on Earth trying to spark. I absolutely counsel against anyone of us on the crashed Ark trying to carry a spark."
"We did it." Skywarp's wings jerked up, aggressive and defensive.
"Your sire coding is overriding your logic circuits." Ratchet diagnosed without cycling an optic. "Tempest was a fluke, and extremely lucky." His glyphs were dense with emphasis. "I expect any newspark any of the Earth mecha manage to produce to term will need a donor, and there won't be many matches."
"And those mecha who weren't in stasis?" Mirage set a processor thread to review what the medic had said. Ratchet would never endanger a patient but he wasn't obliged to give the enemy peripheral data.
"Other than war damage, fuel deprivation, and the usual incompatibility issues, they should be able to manage it." He grimaced but core coding compelled him to continue. "I would recommend everyone wait a vorn at least to be in better condition. Hook can manage a spark and tank assessment. Certainly resolve any lingering line contamination or glitches." The ambulance vented. "No guarantees. Sparking isn't an easy process even in the best of times."
"If I were to spark with one of the Decepticons who served on Earth, would the fluctuations be an issue?" The noble inquired after the thread highlighted several ambiguities. "You said you couldn't do anything. Not that nothing could be done."
"You wouldn't unlock your chest for any 'Con." Ratchet dismissed the entire hypothetical. Which was certainly an answer, though not, Mirage suspected, the medically diagnostic one.