Chapter 26:
Back in Arizona
Before Fireflight had landed with his precious cargo, Bumblebee had been lost in his thoughts. Mikaela and Sam had long since fallen asleep within a room of the human barracks, curled into each other as they slept deeply and without a care.
Bumblebee had resigned himself to a position just outside the human barracks, in his mech mode, staring west into the deep night sky, gazing upon the stars and planets that twinkled brightly above him. His mech form rested against the concrete of the barracks building as he twisted his hands together and stared deeply into the night.
The night was purple and black in the sky, the stars twinkling ever so bright as this star system's planets shone just as brightly. Venus, the second planet of this star system, was twisting brightly within its light, and Bumblebee watched the beauty of it. Even then, he could discern no comfort or joy from that beauty. Bumblebee was lost, confused and completely annoyed as anxiety and irritation overcame his systems. He was so agitated.
Bumblebee couldn't recharge, even if he wanted to, as anxiety nearly overwhelmed him. His systems crackled with the electricity of his stress, and his dark thoughts contributed to the pain plaguing his spark. Beneath the anxiety, however, guilt was what was truly keeping him awake. His spark twisted as he thought once again of the human woman and how his irrationality had brought all of this to come to pass. The young scout sank low on his knees, and groaned, shutting his optics tight. He couldn't stop the oil from leaking, and he quickly wiped it away. He shouldn't waste anything, especially such a commodity that helped him function.
Bumblebee was suddenly angry at himself. If only he hadn't followed her and Barricade, none of this would have happened. If only he hadn't been so impulsive!
And yet, another part of him was calm, telling him he couldn't have known that the damnable Barricade had changed. That Barricade would have become a neutral, that Barricade would be a Guardian of all things. He couldn't have known all of that! So, why... why was he still beating himself up? An audio clip that Ratchet had sent him not too long ago crashed through his thoughts, haunting him as he knew it would.
Maeve. Her screaming as Skywarp had taken her still resonated loudly within him. The screaming, the horrible despair in her voice, the pain. He winced, his hands twitching as his optics closed tight.
The young yellow mech brought his metallic hands to his faceplate, scraping them against the metal, before he finally opened his optics and stared at the bright stars in the night sky; his optics reflecting his pain against the brightness of the universe in front of him.
How many times will I ask myself 'what have I done'? He thought, as he stared back down at his hands before clenching them, the pain of his fingers burying themselves deep within his metallic palms, causing sparks. Any pain to get him through the night. Anything but asking himself again and again why he felt so guilty. He was being ridiculous reflecting on what he couldn't change, and he knew it, but it didn't change how he felt.
He was so deep within his own thoughts that he didn't realize when Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, both on patrol, had screeched to a stop next to him. The Elder Twins stared at Bumblebee, then at each other, the confusion on their faceplates being a twin of each.
:What do you suppose he's thinking about?: Sunstreaker asked, his curiosity echoing through their twin bond. They hadn't seen Bumblebee look so pained in ages. Sideswipe winced, barely noticed by his twin. He should have answered truthfully to Sunstreaker, but he didn't. He knew precisely what Bumblebee was thinking, but... Sideswipe couldn't tell Sunstreaker.
Sideswipe knew he had to lie.
His twin never noticed his deception, which was a feat upon itself. Sideswipe could see the pain on his old friend's face, and closed his optics tight, quickly, as he saw that pain. He turned to his brother, his face a blank mask.
It was one of the few times Sideswipe had to lie. It was one of the few times Sideswipe couldn't let his brother know the reality. He didn't like it, but it was best. Sunstreaker couldn't know. It would kill him, and his brother knew it. With their past, it was better for Sideswipe to lie.
And so, Sideswipe responded with a "Not sure" to his twin. In reality, Sideswipe knew more than probably anyone else on the base. The silver mech stared at his sun yellow twin brother, wincing, and then to their old friend, who was clearly gone in memory-land, and wondered what to do. It didn't take long for Sideswipe to decide. While he might have lied to his twin, he wasn't about to let one of his closest friends descend into total madness. A physical "push" was in order.
Sideswipe poked him with a finger, sharply and quickly, and Bumblebee startled, his defensive systems coming online with startling quickness as he rose to his feet. His battle mask slammed down as he brought up his cannon, suspicion emanating from Bumblebee like a sickening sweet perfume. Bumblebee was ready to kill.
His hands up, Sideswipe backed away quickly, his optics down in a display of submission. He hadn't expected Bumblebee to employ full battle routines.
Sideswipe cycled his vents a few time before he proclaimed, clearly for all to hear, :Bee, it's us. Sides and Sunny, allies. Calm the pit down, we're only here to help.:
A few seconds later, after his defensive routines finally analyzed them as allies, Bumblebee sighed; dialing his defensive routines down and his battle mask sliding back as his guns and cannons retreated through his battle armor, his hands taking their places. Bumblebee rubbed a hand over his helm, before speaking softly to the twins, his eyes shining with deep regret. :Sorry. On edge tonight. I shouldn't have aimed at you:
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shared a look, each thinking of whether it was a good idea to smile and joke with the mech in front of them. Sunny shook his head slightly, indicating to his brother that they should tread carefully. Sideswipe nodded, amazed his brother had recognized the hurt and guilt that Bumblebee was feeling. Sideswipe loved his brother, and always would, but never imagined that Sunny would ever see another's pain. It was nice to see that he had been wrong on that front.
Sunstreaker had finally seen what Sideswipe had seen shining through Bumblebee's optics. Sideswipe agreed wholeheartedly with the unsaid words of his twin and was silently glad that his twin had finally thought of someone other than himself.
While the Elder Twins would have laughed and joked in front of most other mechs, Bumblebee was one of their closest friends. He was younger than they were, by a good many human years, but in maturity and Cybertronian years, they weren't too far apart in age. They also knew 'Bee's moods better than most Autobots and now was most definitely not the time to mess with the youngster.
Sunstreaker had noticed that immediately when Bumblebee had responded to Sides' poke with full battle defense routines, and Sideswipe knew it as well. They had to respond to the yellow mech with full caution and respect.
Besides, they knew why he was on edge. The human woman, and the Decepticon. Knowing Bumblebee, he was blaming himself. It was a habit that infuriated Sunstreaker, who couldn't stand seeing that trait in a close friend of his. It doubly infuriated him now, as he and Sideswipe were still deeply suspicious of the human and her Decepticon Guardian. He didn't like seeing Bumblebee in such a melancholy mood. Sunstreaker cycled his vents softly, and one look at Sideswipe and he knew his twin was feeling much the same as he was.
Still... they wouldn't push him.
:We understand, Bee. We'll leave you be. We're on patrol for another human hour, come find us if you want to chat. You know what tac channels we'll be on. You're not alone.: Sideswipe sent over the comlink, and Bumblebee nodded, his optics blinking seriously. Sideswipe was still significantly worried, but Sunstreaker begged him over their twin bond to continue their rounds. Bumblebee would be fine. It took twenty minutes, but Sideswipe finally left the vicinity of Bumblebee, and the Elder Twins left to continue their rounds around the Arizona desert base.
Sunstreaker looked at his twin as they left, slightly suspicious of his twin brother. He could feel Sideswipe's worry like a stab to the chest, and it felt like he wasn't telling him everything. Sunstreaker, hard as a warrior as he was, swallowed his pride and thought of his friend, Bumblebee. All that mattered was that he would be okay. He asked his brother as much.
:Think he's going to be okay?:
Sideswipe nodded without saying a word. Sunstreaker felt his twin's unspoken feelings within his spark. Even though Sideswipe was worried about the young scout, he knew Bumblebee would be fine. As long as that human woman and her slagging Con Guardian were brought safely back to the base. And if they weren't... they both knew that Bumblebee would continue to blame himself for anything that happened to them. Not exactly rational, but then again Sideswipe didn't consider Bumblebee entirely rational at that point.
In the communications hangar across the Autobot base, Blaster was half listening to the emergency Autobot channel and the chatter that had come after the battle and Fireflight's medevac flight.
Blaster had first listened with excitement, and then fatigue began to hit him with full force. Blaster was trying hard not to slip into recharge, resting his helm on the palm of his hand as he struggled to listen to all of the coms. It didn't matter how hard he tried, however... his optics soon began to shutter, and within moments he had slipped into recharge. Blaster dreamt of peaceful times, of his long-dead family, of his home on Cybertron so many years ago. He dreamed of peace, love, and harmony.
It wasn't to last.
Not long after Blaster had fallen into blissful recharge, Fireflight was yelling angrily into the com link, his indignant loud voice startling Blaster from his blissful dreams. He cycled his vents softly and sadly as his dreams faded away into nothing. All Blaster wanted was to fall into stasis and dream his dreams of the past and peace. But it wasn't to be, and he knew it.
"Blaster, here." The communications specialist had a rattled but still sleepy tone as he replied to Fireflight's annoyed messages.
Fireflight, highly irritated, responded, "I've been trying to contact you for ten minutes, Blaster! I'm ready to land, and Ratchet needs to have Jolt ready for the emergency medevac patients. Tell the twins too... I don't trust Prowl's brother even if he is in stasis."
"Affirmative, Fireflight. The Elder Twins and Jolt will be ready. Your landing is clear and ready." Blaster replied tiredly, and within moments, Jolt and the Elder Twins were waiting anxiously near the runway after Blaster had sent them the message.
Sunstreaker couldn't help himself, as his twin blades replaced his hands, which immediately caught the attention of his brother. Sideswipe, who had been quietly speaking with Jolt about the perceived danger of the broken Decepticon Barricade on Fireflight, had had to quickly race to his brother and try to calm him down, which was not an easy task.
There had been an argument between the two mechs before the more unpredictable one of the two had finally acquiesced to his brother's requests. It was nearly a miracle that Sunstreaker had finally backed down.
Sunstreaker was not at all happy about that, but he begrudgingly listened to his brother. Sideswipe always was the calmer of the two, and even though Sunstreaker hated it, he'd prefer to listen to his brother than have to deal with an angry Optimus Prime.
Sunstreaker shuddered as he stood on the runway, remembering his Creators and their abusiveness. He remembered how one wrong word resulted in a hard slap. He remembered how a screwup resulted in punches and abuse. Sunstreaker shut his optics tight, trying desperately not to remember them. If he had a choice, he'd take an angry Optimus over them, any day.
Sunstreaker shook his helm, determination rolling through him. Slag his Creators. They didn't care a whit about him or Sideswipe. Why even bother remembering them or their blatant abuse?
Jolt stood tall, deliberately not showing his worry. He knew he was a rookie, but he also knew he could handle what faced him. Ratchet, and his other mentors before Jolt had landed on this desolate planet, had taught him many things, one of which was to stand tall and wait for their assignments to reach them and to always accept those assignments without any emotions whatsoever. Jolt cycled his vents softly, focusing on the potential duties before him.
Ratchet had sent him a private analysis of the wounded. Jolt was trying desperately to swallow his disgust at having to work on a Decepticon before Fireflight landed; before Ratchet was there to notice his discomfort and report him to Optimus Prime. It was hard enough to work on a fellow comrade, like Prowl, who he barely knew, which was no fault of his own.
But being forced to ensure a Decepticon was kept out of stasis, and kept from the Well of All Sparks? Jolt couldn't help but swallow the burning acid that was building up in his throat, threatening to corrode his vocal cords. Jolt stiffened, clasping his hands even harder behind his back; so much so that even Sideswipe noticed Jolt's discomfort and ill ease.
Sideswipe glared at the medic, his navy optics burning deep towards the dark blue Autobot. No matter what, Sideswipe had been taught, a medic helped anyone, no matter the side. And yet he could feel Jolt's revulsion towards treating a Decepticon. Sideswipe, as an infantry member, was expected to feel that sort of intricate pain, a pain that wrapped itself around your veins, putting itself in the energon that flowed so free in every Cybertronian and realize that every life, every hope, pulsed with the life-giver, the planet that they as Cybertronians all revered. And yet...
It annoyed and infuriated Sideswipe that a rookie medic would put their entire mission in danger because of hatred and fear. Medics were to help anyone. Period. Sideswipe roared inside of his mind before he finally summoned the courage to question the medic with just a simple word:
His name.
:Jolt:
The voice of Sideswipe surprised Jolt, who was used to being completely ignored by the Elder Twins unless he was the focus of some practical joke. The apprentice medic startled, turning his head to stare at the silver mech long and hard, before answering, :Yes, Sideswipe?:
The rookie medic was shaking with fear, even though he didn't even notice it. Sideswipe quickly gave him a look of sadness but then tightened, grimacing, knowing what was to come.
:Stop freaking out. We can all feel it. You'll do fine. Believe in yourself. Believe.:
Believe.
The simple words startled Jolt, causing him to suddenly realize who he was with and the humans who cared. A calming message from... Sideswipe? What in the Pit? Still, Jolt took a moment and then nodded to Sideswipe; before he once again began a specific vent circulation, akin to a human's meditation technique that he had learned from a human army medic.
He was ready. Jolt had to be, and he knew it. If he wasn't prepared, it could easily be a disaster. He had to help Prowl... and Prowl's twin brother. If he hesitated on helping Barricade, he knew that Prowl would also be in danger.
Jolt silently thanked Sideswipe for reminding him of how he couldn't forget that Primus was always there, and that even if Barricade was a Decepticon... Prowl was not. To save Prowl, Jolt knew he and Ratchet had to save his twin, even if Jolt didn't want to.
We have to save Prowl.
Others across the Arizona base, on the other hand, were surprised, humans and mechs alike. Red Alert was screaming around the base like a petulant child while also having a paranoia attack. It quickly aggravated the twins and Jolt, so much so that Sunstreaker nearly put the freaked-out Security Chief into stasis lock.
Only a swift tackle from Sideswipe had averted that particular disaster, but in any event, Red Alert had been confined to the eastern and southern edges of the base to look over all of the entrances.
The Elder Twins and Jolt had breathed a sigh of relief when Red Alert had taken that mission with a deliberate and almost maniacal sense of pride. Surely the paranoid Chief couldn't get himself into any trouble. They hoped, anyway...
It didn't take long for Bumblebee to notice the bright white and red lights, clearly belonging to a plane, in the dark night sky near the base. He sent a brief questioning com to Blaster, who quickly replied that it was Fireflight and his cargo. Bumblebee was immediately on edge. He knew Barricade was hurt and in stasis, but his defensive routines couldn't help but activate. Abandoning the hanger where his human charges slept peacefully, he quickly moved to where Jolt and the Elder Twins were stationed.
Sunstreaker gave him an odd look, but Bumblebee ignored it. He had to be there when Fireflight landed. He had to be there, no matter what. Bumblebee's guilt wouldn't allow him anything else.
Bumblebee wondered, as he paced in front of the runway, how it would be when Fireflight landed. As far as he knew, it was only Ratchet and the injured Prowl and Barricade aboard Fireflight. Bumblebee's anxiety flooded through him. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker ignored his antics after sharing a look. Surely it was because of the Decepticon, who was arriving without his human companion.
Bumblebee struggled to control his emotions, even though he knew that Barricade was in bad shape and that it was therefore possible they would lose Prowl. However, the young Autobot didn't anticipate what exactly awaited them.
Chaos. It was utter chaos when Fireflight landed, his wheels screeching as white smoke emanated from them. Within a minute, Fireflight had turned around in the darkness, slowing to a stop before Jolt, the Elder Twins and Bumblebee. Jolt was the only mech noticeably still as they waited for the back hatch to open. The Elder Twins and Bumblebee were all showing their anxiety, stomping across the runway with dismal looks upon their faceplates.
Ratchet stomped out of Fireflight's cargo hold, his demeanor noticeably grim, yelling orders to Jolt to help him move Prowl to the medbay. Ratchet startled when he noticed the Elder Twins and Bumblebee. A deep scowl crossed his faceplate as the crotchety medic quickly thought through his options. He decided on them quickly, as he scowled again at the three.
Bumblebee almost imagined the sky crisscrossing with electricity above him as Ratchet glared.
"You three, move Barricade to medbay. And if any of you hurt him further, I'll send all three of you to Primus." Ratchet snarled angrily, the look on his faceplate utterly terrifying.
The three did as they were told, even though Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were noticeably grimacing as they carried the injured Decepticon to the haggard medbay.
Within moments of both Prowl and Barricade being deposited on their separate berths, Ratchet and Jolt quickly got to work, trying desperately to save both. Prowl was the first one to stabilize, and Jolt moved to assist Ratchet with Barricade's broken and pathetic looking form.
They nearly lost the Decepticon several times, which then would cause Prowl's condition to deteriorate, and one of the two medics would have to stabilize him while the other tried desperately to save his brother. It was a seemingly never-ending game of back and forth that exhausted the old medic and the rookie.
Energon drip after energon drip, Ratchet and Jolt used all their skills to save the twins, and there were more than a few times that they nearly lost one.
Hours passed before Ratchet finally sat back, sighing to himself that they could do nothing further. Jolt shuddered with fatigue, and Ratchet dismissed him to get some sleep in one of the private berths in the back of the medbay. Jolt whispered his thanks before he collapsed onto one of the berths, knocked out by his fatigue.
Ratchet, far more accustomed to this type of triage fatigue, merely sighed to himself, rubbing a hand against his optics as he sat wearily upon the berth closest to Prowl. He stared at the police Autobot that was essentially in a coma, and then at his brother, Barricade. His vents cycled wearily.
The police Autobot and Decepticon twins would survive. They would live. It was a triumph Ratchet should have relished in.
And yet, Ratchet knew... the Decepticon's survival was based entirely on the human's. He winced and turned his faceplate away from the Decepticon's broken body. He still did not want to admit defeat.
He still did not want to admit that the human and the Decepticon needed each other. As the old medic placed a weathered metallic hand to his face, he wondered silently to himself when he would have to face the truth. The truth he never wanted to be a part of. A truth that reminded him far too much of his own past.
He should have told Prime. But he didn't. His pride was, once again, becoming all too clear. A tiny voice echoed within him, giving off a shrill warning, and yet, the proud old medic ignored it. Barricade would survive; those old myths were nothing important. The Decepticon didn't need the girl, and the Autobots would have a prisoner who could give them all they needed to know about the 'Cons.
Ratchet told himself all of this, ignoring the disquiet within himself, ignoring the physical signs within the 'Con, desperately trying to convince himself he was right.
But... the old crotchety medic was wrong. Deep down, he knew it. Barricade wouldn't survive the next twenty-four hours without his charge. They had to get her to him, and fast.
Ratchet cycled his vents. He didn't want to acknowledge the human's relationship to the Decepticon, his pride getting the best of him. He should have sent a message to Optimus.
He didn't.
"We're freaking lost, Hall, just admit it!" Bauer whined from the open back window, clutching a hand to the side of the Tundra pickup truck as it bounced around on the old bumpy dirt road.
Bauer clung for dear life to the side of the pickup as he sat in the back end of the Tundra, hoping against hope he wouldn't be tossed out as the wheels bounced heavily against every bump. In front of him, sitting in the cramped backseat, Tiny winced every time they hit a bump, as he inevitably hit his head hard on the roof. He was going to have one hell of a bruise by morning.
"SHUT UP, Bauer!" Hall snapped, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he tried to avoid the rampant potholes and rocks. His poor truck was going to need a serious overhaul after this trip, and he couldn't help a few choice explicit words escape his lips in agitated grumbles as his eyes narrowed.
"Bauer has a point, we've been going in circles for thirty minutes." Tiny said calmly. Hall slammed on the brakes harshly, causing all the SWAT members to fly forward, resulting in several "ow!" and "dammit, Hall!" comments. Hall turned around, and glared at Tiny with icy eyes, his eyes even more narrow than they had been before. He looked demonic.
"You know what, uh, we're not lost, we're just close to uh, where we need to turn off and uh, stuff. Um, I'll just be quiet now." Tiny muttered quietly, staring at his hands intently as he avoided Hall's glare. Hall looked murderous with his red eyes that had been devoid of sleep, and Tiny knew better than to piss him off further.
Hall turned to Murphy after giving Tiny one last glare. Jack was hunched over the GPS, its tiny screen illuminating the dark cab of the pickup truck.
"Anything yet?" Hall asked, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. He twitched with annoyance, his dark eyes flitting from one side to another as Jack tried to figure out where they should go next.
Murphy sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair as he leaned up, staring out the windshield into the night. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Think so. There's a road coming up that seems to go where we saw that contrail. We might as well try it. Next right turn."
Hall confirmed, beginning to drive again, and within moments he was turning onto another dirt road. He immediately noticed the nearly immaculate maintenance done on this road. No bumps, no potholes, nothing to give an indication that it was a deserted dirt road in the middle of nowhere. It was missing the deep ruts of a washboard road that the majority of dirt roads had. His suspicion spiked, and his knuckles again turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. Hall suspected they were close. Very close.
Suddenly, they hit pavement.
Oh, sweet pavement, thank god. Give my shocks a rest! Hall thought, smiling to himself.
Only after that thought did his suspicion, and the rest of Maeve's team for that matter, rise to excruciatingly high levels. They were definitely on to something. It gave them all a deep sense of unease, and Hall exhaled, his fingers doing a tap dance on the steering wheel. He was just as worried as they were.
Very close is an understatement, Hall thought, as they crested a hill and a vast military base spread out before them, its bright lights casting shadows upon the desert floor. He skidded to a stop, flipping his headlights off as the accumulated dust from the last dirt road settled off the truck onto the black pavement beneath it. They needed a plan now.
"Christ Almighty," Lancaster breathed, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "And we're supposed to sneak onto that?"
Jack Murphy turned from the front passenger seat, a wicked smile spreading across his lips. He turned to Hall before saying, "We're not sneaking in at all. Drive on until we hit those gates."
Hall stared incredulously at him, but after a moment sighed and nodded, his eyes downcast. The LT was determined, and Hall knew that he couldn't turn back. They had to find Maeve.
Hall sighed to himself, My wife's going to kill me...
"Uh, LT, I don't know about you, but I'd really prefer not to be charged with any military top secret related charges..." Rodriguez spoke up from the truck bed, and the majority of the SWAT team murmured their uneasy agreement. They wanted to find Maeve, and had said they would do anything to find her, but the suddenly real prospect of finding themselves in some black ops prison was hanging over all of their heads.
The deadly look from Murphy in the front seat shut them all up.
Well, except one. Tiny, being Tiny, growled at Murphy, "If I get shot, not even giant robots can stop me from killing you with Fifi, Murphy."
Lt. Jack Murphy sent daggers towards Tiny with his eyes, but Tiny didn't give a flying fuck, he meant what he'd said.
The Toyota truck sped towards the military base's gates, with the majority of its occupants more than a little nervous.
Hall was chewing on his lip, while Lancaster was praying, and Rodriguez had his head in his hands. Tiny grasped his hands together while giving dirty glares to Murphy and Hall. Murphy's jaw was set, his eyes hard as diamonds as he stared through the dust-covered windshield.
They had no idea how it would work out. Would they all be arrested? More than likely. Shoved in some unknown military prison? Perhaps. The unknowns were hovering over them, like the darkest storm clouds. Even so, they knew that if they could get the answers to Maeve's disappearance, then maybe, just maybe, it would all be worth it.
Military prison be damned.
A large adobe house with garish white lights stood proud on a hill above Tranquility. The sprawling house was easily over 4,000 square feet, with a four-car garage. A house no Tranquility, California Sergeant could ever afford on a usual salary. Of course, the owner of the home was no ordinary police sergeant.
Sergeant Blair smiled as he proudly showed his cousin, Theodore Galloway, around his large home. Galloway politely smiled as Blair showed him to a large living room with wall-to-wall sliding glass doors overlooking Tranquility. The city lights sparkled in the night, as the thunderstorm had finally passed, leaving a distinct smell of rain present in the air, while faraway thunder gently shook the glass.
Director Theodore Galloway settled himself onto the red leather couch as his cousin hovered at the little bar area in the corner.
"Whiskey, Theo?" Blair asked, holding up an expensive looking bottle. Galloway nodded and patiently waited as the Sergeant poured two half glasses and walked over. Blair sat down on a leather armchair across from Galloway, holding out a glass, which Galloway took.
The Director savored a sip, before he gave a half smile to his cousin. "How much did this cost?"
Blair smirked, "Bottle? $500. Well worth it, though, yeah?"
Galloway nodded, staring out the wall-to-wall glass doors as Tranquility's lights blinked softly in the distance, before setting his glass down on the table next to him with a distinct clink. He folded his hands, and stared at his cousin, his hazel eyes staring hard behind his glasses. Blair shifted uneasily, avoiding Galloway's harsh eyes, as he sipped from his own glass.
Blair would never admit it to Galloway, but he was terrified of his cousin. The man was ruthless and would do anything to achieve his objectives. He was much like Blair, truth be told, but Blair would never admit that to himself. He knew what was coming, but doubts were beginning to shroud his mind. The Sergeant had been so sure before they had left TPD headquarters. Now... he knew what Theo would ask of him, and uneasiness flowed through him. He didn't like it.
"So," Galloway stated, his voice hard and calculating. Time to get down to business. "We need to talk about who we can hire to find that damn woman and to create a problem large enough to get those aliens off our planet. We need intelligence against the aliens, and a force that is enough to get them off the planet. They are a threat, and I want them to be gone. Understand, I will do anything to get them off my planet." Galloway's eyes narrowed.
Blair gulped, sweat beginning to bead down his forehead. Damn you, nerves! He knew this was for the best. He set his jaw. If anything, this would at least rid him of that horrible woman who didn't deserve to be in law enforcement. That had always been his goal, that was why he had called his cousin, that was why he had started all of this. The other... nasty things his cousin was planning were none of his concern. Only ridding him, and his department, of her; that was his objective. He didn't care about anything else.
Sergeant Blair looked up at his cousin, steely resolve present in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He would do whatever it took. Blair knew precisely what his cousin was insinuating.
"You're talking about my military days."
Galloway nodded, taking another sip of the whiskey. "Yes. Your special ops crew; they're all working for mercenaries now, yes?"
Blair leaned forward, setting his glass down on the table. He clasped his hands together tightly as he stared at his cousin with hard eyes, "Not all of them. Maybe five or six at the most. Those are the ones you can trust. The others, no way in hell, they'd rather die before betraying their country."
Galloway took a moment to think, before answering, "Hmm. And the ones you trust? Can you get them quickly?"
Blair sighed, and sat back, contemplating his answer. His old squad had been fractured ever since their last mission in Bosnia, the last time he, and they, had been called to active duty. Their unit had only been called when necessary. He had spent more than twenty years as a law enforcement officer, and part of the reason he had never been fired, even though he had come so close so many times was because of his "continued patriotic service" to his country and several well-placed calls from previous ops higher-ups. He had gotten lucky that they had needed him and his unit so many times.
He knew exactly who he would have to contact. They would take this mission, but for a steep price, and it would take some extra duty on his part to find them. He also knew they would do whatever it took, and that his friends wouldn't hesitate killing innocents.
That last thought of his caused him to pause. Would his cousin care? It didn't take Blair long to realize that his cousin Theo wouldn't care at all about innocents dying. Still, he had to mention it.
Blair sighed, before speaking quietly, "They are spread all over. It might take a while to contact them. But Theo, if you're committed to this, then you have to realize that they don't care about civilian casualties. They will do whatever it takes to finish the op. No matter what. They will take the mission to wherever they see fit and get it done. They don't give a damn about the consequences. If the op goes bad, you could go down. Scratch that, they will finger you if shit goes down. They are ruthless sons of bitches, even more than you and me."
The Director leaned back, picking up and cradling his glass of whiskey, taking a slow sip here and there. He contemplated the risk to himself. Hmmm... is it worth it? He knew the risks, especially with his position. He weighed the pros and cons, the risks and benefits.
Minutes ticked by, and Sergeant Blair grew increasingly nervous. He grabbed his glass of whiskey and struggled not to down it in one gulp that would set his stomach afire. Did his cousin know fully what he was getting into? Of course he did, didn't he? In his position, he had to! And yet, as time passed quickly by, Blair wondered if he had made a mistake going to his cousin.
No, this is to get rid of her. She'll never come back after this. They'll take care of her. That's all that matters.
He reluctantly took small sips from his glass of $500 whiskey, and those sips burned his throat as anxiety whirled through him.
Finally, Director Theodore Galloway nodded. It's worth it, he had decided. Galloway stared hard at his cousin. "Get them. As soon as possible. They will be the first team; we'll call them the Alpha team. We need more teams though, to make this work. Get the Alpha team, first. Then, we're going to find more patriotic boys willing to beat these bastards. Start putting feelers out. We need as many patriotic men as we can get. No more sitting back and letting the aliens win in secret. We are going to eliminate the aliens, and the traitor."
Sergeant Blair contemplated his cousin's words. While he might have been uncomfortable at first, Sergeant Blair knew that he could rely on his cousin. He would support Theodore Galloway... no matter what. After a long moment of silence, Blair lifted his glass of whiskey, a slight smile on his face as he contemplated the end of his problem: the stupid woman that he couldn't stand. "To the end of the bitch, and the aliens."
Galloway smirked and clinked his glass against his cousin's. "To the end of them all."
After the exciting landing of Fireflight with Prowl and Barricade; Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Bumblebee had finally fallen into blissful recharge in their assigned berths in their assigned hangers. The Elder Twins in their own, while Bumblebee had fallen in recharge in the hanger closest to the human barracks and closest to his human charges.
Ratchet had also ordered Blaster to recharge as well, after having found the communications specialist passed out in the communications hanger. Ratchet smiled sadly when he found Blaster slumped over the equipment. It hadn't taken much prodding to get him to his berth.
Ratchet, aside from the seemingly ever always awake Red Alert, had taken over all the other jobs on base.
As such, he had heard Silverbolt's call for landing before anyone else. He also heard how the human woman that Barricade had aligned himself with was also on that flight. Ratchet sighed. Long ago guilt and pain flooded through him that he tried desperately to ignore.
But he couldn't, and soon he found himself in a mess that even he couldn't dismiss.
When Silverbolt landed, Ratchet had been the only mech awaiting them, a stark contrast from when Fireflight had landed earlier in the dark night. When Silverbolt landed, the first inklings of daylight were on the horizon, and while Ratchet should have been exhausted, he was not. He waited anxiously.
Ironhide, Optimus and Arcee had all disembarked, and he'd given them a wave of approval after a quick scan so they could all recharge. He had seen how Ironhide was, and probably shouldn't have let him go to recharge, but Ratchet felt waves of apprehension about the human woman still within Silverbolt. Ironhide's records were nothing compared to what had been sent to him about her.
Silverbolt especially was adamant that Ratchet examine her. The Aerialbot had sent him the records of her nightmares and screaming that she placed upon poor Will Lennox, and Ratchet was anxious to see her.
He had no idea how bad it would end up being.
Major Will Lennox had ended up carrying the unconscious woman to Ratchet's medbay, upon which the Major gently placed her upon a soft human sized bed, and helped Ratchet place several medically needed devices and needles within her while she was completely unconscious.
Within fifteen minutes of Silverbolt's landing and getting the woman into his medbay, Ratchet was concerned. The human woman had woken and immediately become incoherent and hysterical. Her screams echoed harshly within the metal of the hangar, causing Will and Ratchet to wince every time she screamed. Ratchet was amazed that the Major hadn't abandoned her, but as soon as he started to see the man falling asleep at her bedside, he ordered him to the human barracks.
Major Lennox reluctantly obliged, even though he didn't want to leave her.
After that, the old medic took pity upon the young woman who seemed to be lost in an old nightmare. Ratchet had an inkling of why she was so distressed; her stress and sorrow washing over him like a river overflowing its banks.
He first tried speaking to her, slowly and gently, soft like a pillow filled with down pillows.
No response.
He activated his holoform, spoke softly again, and touched her equally as gently. She looked away, shutting her eyes; and when his holoform touched her, she shied away as much as the restraints on her patient bed allowed her to, her jaw set tight as her pale form tightened with anxiety.
Ratchet sighed. Her eyes were blank, her pale human face a canvas of dried tears, swollen skin beneath her eyes, and a taut jawline. Dark bruises covered most of her face, and Ratchet winced as he avoided touching them. He released her restraints before he deactivated his holoform, hoping for a response, but received none. What could he do?
Ratchet backed away, his metallic feet screeching across the concrete of the hangar.
Besides her small bed in his makeshift medbay, Ratchet touched a hand to his helm, at a loss.
How could he help her when she refused everything he had tried? For hours he tried everything he could but still she wouldn't respond. He had finally ordered a large amount of morphine, as even he couldn't take her screams and nightmares. She had finally dissolved into her past, and Ratchet could do nothing. The morphine settled into her veins, and finally gave her peace, and a peace that Ratchet was glad to have. No more screams filled the medbay, and he finally felt like it was his again. And yet, he knew he was out of his league. What could he do?
He had very nearly sent her to a human doctor until a slight glance at the still form of the Decepticon across the room suddenly gave him his epiphany. Barricade was still, lying in stasis lock on a cold silver colored metal berth, across the room from the human woman's little human medical bed. Perhaps...
If what he suspected was correct, he had an idea of what he had to do. He didn't like it, was worried for the tiny human at his feet, utterly still beneath the cotton sheets and staring blankly into the distance. She looked so lost.
Ratchet knew. Primus, he knew what had to be done. It didn't mean he had to like it.
Ratchet slowly, gently, grasped her in his hand. She didn't even react, her body limp against his hand as his sensors analyzed her. Nothing but the most basic physiological functions. That enough caused him alarm, and he hurried to deposit her next to the only being who he hoped could save her from the hell she was lost in.
Ratchet laid her gently next to Barricade, half her body laying within the Decepticon's metallic hand, the evil mech's talons laying sharp against the metal of the berth. Ratchet was hoping against hope that his previous assumption about the two's relationship wasn't wrong. He left to go back to his tiny office in the back corner of the hangar, keeping an optic, as well as an auditory function open, listening.
Barricade was still in and out of his stasis, and Ratchet didn't expect much.
For hours, he didn't hear anything from the two. He monitored the human's vital signs constantly, and she had slipped into stasis, sleep, most likely morphine induced, which Ratchet knew was probably not at all blissful, while Barricade slipped in and out of consciousness as the Decepticon struggled with his nearly fatal wounds.
And then... hope.
Barricade eventually realized the human near one of his hands. He twitched, and Ratchet had jumped out of his chair with worry for the young woman before he heard Barricade cycle his vents softly, and then, so slightly, the Decepticon caressed her with one sharp talon, her auburn hair fluttering from his touch.
Ratchet slumped back into his metal chair, cycling his own vents as he worried. He watched silently from the tiny office, ever prepared to step in.
Ratchet heard Barricade cycle his vents softly and saw how the Decepticon's scarlet optics stared down at the tiny human woman next to his talons. When Ratchet saw the love within the Decepticon's optics for his human charge, the old medic turned away, uncomfortable. His suspicions had been confirmed as true.
Ratchet shuddered. It was just like it had been so many years ago. He saw the young femme again, protecting the organic with her on that faraway planet that was now destroyed. Ratchet shut his optics tight and dutifully ignored the woman and Decepticon in his medbay. He didn't see Barricade fall into stasis again, as the Decepticon completely forgot what he had just seen and felt for the human woman.
Taboo!
Ratchet opened his optics again after a moment and refused to look out the large window onto the medbay. Instead, he focused on reports and request forms. He had to.
Still the love he had seen in Barricade's eyes for the human woman haunted him.
It is a taboo! I must tell Optimus. This cannot be allowed to continue.
In the medbay, Barricade was amazed as he awoke, for what seemed like the millionth time. He felt... foggy and was subsequently annoyed. Like he should remember something but couldn't. Then, slowly, he remembered. He noticed something, someone else was there with him. Someone important. He felt a weight upon half his hand and gingerly lifted his injured helm to look down upon the weighted hand and the object upon it.
Maeve was lying there.
Maeve!
He nearly cried out with joy, and instead laid his head back, oil tears threatening to cascade down his battered and bruised faceplate. He shuttered his optics, as he felt everything she did, as he remembered everything that had occurred over the past few hours. He was overwhelmed.
She was here! He hadn't lost her! Barricade didn't know whether to cry or scream.
Maeve was still completely out of it, and Barricade allowed her a blissful sleep for that time. But he could still feel her pain, a pain that cascaded across his spark, that caused him to wince with pain, that caused him to nearly cry out with hurt. Instead, he contained it all within himself and looked instead on the internet for a song, a song that he knew must get through to her.
He couldn't allow her to dwell in madness. He wouldn't allow her to do so. He may have been evil, but he wouldn't allow her to drown in her sorrow.
Barricade finally found one song. A song that could help her.
Ratchet had spent several hours on reports and request forms, forgetting the Decepticon and human woman in his medbay completely, when he heard, ever so softly, a human song from Barricade's audio outputs, that played repeatedly as the human slept peacefully besides the Decepticon's hand.
You were standing in the wake of devastation...
and you were waiting on the edge of the unknown.
With the cataclysm raining down, insides crying "Save me now",
you were there, impossibly alone...
Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?
You build up hope, but failure's all you've known...
Remember all the sadness and frustration, and let it go
Let it go.
A slight smile crossed Ratchet's mouthplate as he recognized the symbolism behind the song and why Barricade was relentlessly playing it over and over. The Decepticon was trying, on his own terms, to bring his charge back to the land of the living.
Ratchet took his stylus and data pad and continued to look over his work, the single song playing softly in the background. He didn't mind. He had done all he could for her. It was time for the real Guardian to do what he could to save her.
And it was about time that the real Guardian was trying to save her.
Ratchet recorded it all so that when Optimus awoke from his own recharge he would know. Ratchet grimaced. He'd have to explain a lot... but hearing the song playing in the background of the medbay, Ratchet knew that it would be worth it.
It was worth it.