Never Did Run Smooth, Ch. 23
Well, it's... a new Maximal. Um, yay?
- - - - -
The vervet monkey troop was in chaos. The trees were on fire, bolts of death rained down at random from above, and the attackers circling over their heads were larger and more terrifying than any bird of prey. Only the agility of the little primates had kept them alive, and even that wasn't always enough, as a few charred bodies could attest. They had no way of defending themselves from the alien invaders, could not even comprehend why they were being hunted.
"Show yourself, Maximal! Surrender, or this entire colony will BUUUUUURN!" Inferno swept his flamethrower from side to side, spreading fire to the few trees that weren't already blazing.
Terrorsaur shot at a monkey cowering on a nearby branch. The primate leaped clear not a second too soon as the branch was vaporized. "It has to be here somewhere. The energy signature's right under our noses."
"Terror-bot better be right this time." His partner hovered behind him, taking potshots at the monkeys as they fled into the open away from the burning brush. "Wazzpinator tired of wild-goose chase."
"That was a stork, and I tell you it was acting suspicious. Anyway, I wasn't the one who decided to bomb the river."
"Hmph. Maximal might have been hiding as a fish."
Inferno interrupted them. "Pay attention, fools! More enemies of the colony are approaching!"
"Well, look who it is! Here, kitty-kitty-kitty! Come chase the pretty birdie!" Terrorsaur was giddy, high on destruction, and he cackled gleefully while firing on the two Maximals. Cheetor and Tigatron hastily dove for cover, transforming as they did so. Tigatron regained his feet first, weapon outstretched, a deep growl welling up in his vocalizer as he took in the sight of the burning trees and terrified monkeys.
"Cowards! Take on something your own size!" He started firing, concentrating on Inferno who was causing by far the most damage.
Cheetor popped up beside him, shooting at the other two Predacons. He was the worst marksman in the Axalon, and knew it, but what he lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm. The two fliers quickly split to make themselves separate targets, and Waspinator began flying erratically over his head while Terrorsaur circled around to try and shoot him from behind. Cheetor stifled a curse. Neither of them was much of a threat individually, but throw in teamwork and they were more than a match for him. He really wondered whether they should've called for backup.
Too late now. He focused his aim on Waspinator while trying to keep an optic on Terrorsaur over his shoulder. One of his shots, by sheer luck, clipped the wasp's wing. Then he had to roll out of the way to avoid Terrorsaur's revenge missile, which exploded against the ground right next to him. The force of the blast added to his momentum and he kept going until he slammed into a tree trunk, almost losing the grip on his weapon.
Lying on his back, he thought he saw movement in the branches up above, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the Predacons. Terrorsaur swooped down and hovered low, where he could aim at Cheetor without having to fire through the leaves. His pretty face wore a decidedly unpleasant smirk.
"Come on, cat! Take your best shot. You can't even hit Waspinator's big aft, let alone--"
A small object struck him in the head. Cut off with a squawk in mid-sentence, Terrorsaur looked up -- only for another object to smack right into his face. It burst with a wave of sickly-sweet scent, splattering rotten pulp. The pteranodon shrieked and began frantically wiping his optics clear, but not before Cheetor was given a good clear shot at him. The Maximal forced himself to slow down, take a second to aim before actually squeezing the trigger. His shot took Terrorsaur square in the chest, sending the Predacon flying backwards.
Cheetor was getting to his feet when an olive-gray shape dropped out of the tree in front of him. A very large vervet monkey stared at him briefly with wide yellow eyes, then bounded away in the direction that Terrorsaur had landed. Cheetor followed.
"What the slag-- Hey! GIVE THAT BACK!"
Terrorsaur had dropped his weapon when Cheetor shot him, and the monkey was now dragging it off. The Predacon lunged after it. Cheetor fired at the ground near his hand and Terrorsaur froze, caught in a sense of déjá vu as he again found himself staring up at the barrel of a Maximal's gun.
"…Let me guess. 'If I were you, I'd run'?"
He was injured, and he wasn't armed. As much glee as Cheetor normally took in slagging Predacons, he found himself lowering the gun. "Transform and get out of here, Terrorsaur," he said coldly. "I won't shoot at you."
"Well, how kind." Missile launchers popped suddenly into place. "But I can't promise the same." Before the Maximal could respond, he fired.
Cheetor was thrown backward violently. Stunned, he lay on his back, smoke rising from his chest. Terrorsaur's cackling sounded hazy and distant. Oh, now that was smart, Cheetor. What'd you expect from a Pred…
With effort, he cleared his optics and saw Terrorsaur looming over him. He wasn't as badly injured as he'd seemed -- most of the blast had dissipated against his shields and there was only a scorch mark on his chest to show where Cheetor had hit him. "Ah, Maximals. So stupid you almost defeat yourselves." Above the smirk, his optics glinted menacingly. "My turn."
A bolt of energy struck Terrorsaur in the side and hurled him off his feet. Cheetor reacted quickly, firing at him again before he even hit the ground. The flier landed on his back, limbs splayed, exposed circuits crackling. He groaned once, shuddered and went offline, optics darkening.
Dragging himself to his feet, Cheetor replied, "But we sure have you guys beat when it comes to teamwork." Brushing himself off, trying not to wince visibly, he turned to his rescuer. "Thanks, Tig--"
It wasn't Tigatron.
Round yellow eyes stared back at him. The monkey's little black forepaws were wrapped around the grip of Terrorsaur's gun. The recoil must have been enough to nearly send the beast flying, thought Cheetor in a sort of shock. Then his processor put itself together and he realized the obvious, which had been nagging at him all through the fight. No animal would be able to use a blaster, let alone hit anything, except possibly by sheer dumb luck -- and the odds of that were too slim to calculate. Besides, he was pretty sure those weren't the eyes of an animal he was looking into. He knew the difference all too well.
"Hey!" he said as the realization became certainty. "We've been looking for you!"
The monkey seemed to raise an eyebrow, but didn't answer.
Tigatron's war-cry broke off the introduction. Cheetor whipped his head around in time to see Inferno crash out of sight among the trees, trailing flame and smoke -- for once not on purpose. Of Waspinator there was no sign. That wasn't too surprising; the wasp knew a hopeless fight when he saw one, and would usually withdraw if there was no one else around to push him, coming back after the shooting stopped to assess the damage and pick up the pieces. Really, he had more sense than half the other Predacons combined. Still, Cheetor kept a wary optic on the sky as Tigatron rematerialized from the trees.
"Nice work, little cat!" The tracker's shoulder was badly singed. "Inferno put up a good fight, but he finally went down -- right into the river. I found that fitting." It was then that he noticed the monkey, and his expression turned to puzzlement. "Is… is it holding a gun?"
Cheetor couldn't help laughing. "Hey, that gun just saved my tail. Say hi to our newest Maximal!" He gestured at the small primate, which sat down contentedly on its haunches and started scratching its head. Tigatron looked highly dubious.
"Erm… hi," he said uncertainly.
The monkey threw the gun aside and drew itself up on its hind legs, its head barely as high as Tigatron's waist. It chirped twice, then repeated "Hi" very clearly in a frighteningly accurate rendition of the scout's voice.
Both cats jumped, then gave a relieved laugh. "Glad to see you've got a sense of humor," said Tigatron.
"Big Bot's gonna be so happy to meet you," Cheetor added, talking quickly with excitement, his injuries all but forgotten. "He's kind of a monkey too -- you'll like him. What's your name?"
The monkey hesitated, then dropped to all fours. It grunted at them, made a whuffing sound through its cheeks, then a noise like "raugh". It grunted some more and then paused, looking back and forth between the two Maximals as if waiting for a response.
Cheetor frowned, wondering if maybe he'd somehow been wrong. "Err… sorry, I don't understand. Could you repeat that?"
The monkey cocked its head sharply. "Sorry, I don't understand." This time it spoke in Cheetor's voice, matching his tone and words exactly.
The two cats looked at each other, realization dawning. Uh-oh.
- - - - -
"There's nothing wrong with her vocalizer," Rhinox pronounced, lowering the scanner. His subject was now in robot mode, greedily gulping down a cube of energon, and hardly seemed to be paying attention to the other Maximals in the room, who also included Optimus and Cheetor.
It was Cheetor who blurted out, "Her vocalizer? Really?"
Rhinox gave him the look he reserved for people who asked stupid questions at particularly stupid times. "Yes. As I was saying, her vocalizer's fine. It's got to be a software problem, which really isn't surprising. These crash-landings take a heavy toll on the pods. We're lucky Tigatron only came out with an identity glitch." He started packing equipment away, rescuing a small probe from the grasp of the new Maximal, whose hands seemed to wander almost independent from her body.
"Can it be repaired?" Optimus was naturally concerned. They had rescued their comrade from the Predacons only to be confronted with a new problem.
"To be honest, I'm not even sure what's wrong at this point. I'll have to run more tests, some deep scans, a full systems check. My best guess is that her language tracks are scrambled. If that's the only problem, it's easy to remedy -- I can whip up a language primer and upload it straight into her processor. On the other hand, if the damage is worse than that, there might not be anything I can do. I'm not a qualified neurosurgeon, and even if I was, I don't have the best equipment to work with."
"…I see."
"But I'll do what I can. Good news is, physically she's a picture of health. And there doesn't appear to be any processor damage other than speech-related, though it's a little hard to be sure."
The new Maximal held her now-empty cube upside-down and shook out the last few drops, watching them fall to the floor with almost child-like interest. Optimus wondered if Rhinox might be wrong about that processor damage. If not, then they apparently had one weird Maximal on their hands.
As the others talked, Cheetor's attention was riveted on the new recruit. She'd transformed herself by repeating the "Maximize!" command after watching them demonstrate a couple times. Even so, Cheetor wasn't sure how Rhinox could tell this was a fembot. Her build was closer to his own than to, say, Blackarachnia's. And she was tiny, even in this mode. If Rattrap had been here, there might have been a couple centimeters, at most, of height difference between them.
"What about her capabilities?" Optimus asked. He didn't like having to talk about someone as if they weren't right there, but she didn't seem to be listening anyway.
Rhinox looked over the readings he'd recorded. "Her sensornet is about as advanced as Rattrap's. She's probably designed as a scout, maybe just a data recorder. She seems to have mimicry down pat."
"Let's call her Mimic," Cheetor suggested. They both turned to stare at him. "What? We gotta call her something."
Optimus sighed. "Well, we'll just have to keep her here until this is figured out. She's not fit for duty right now, for obvious reasons."
"Hey, she helped me take out Terrorsaur with a piece of fruit! And his own gun!"
Primal just knew that was going to be a fun mission report to read later. "Be that as it may, she's damaged. Until we fix her, she needs to stay where it's safe. And I want you to look after her."
Cheetor blinked. "Wha? Me?"
"Why not? You were the first Maximal she met."
"Yeah, but--"
"You've been helping to look for her since the pod landed."
"Well, I --"
"At least it will give you something to do."
Cheetor relented. He didn't actually mind, he was just… surprised to be asked, honestly. He wasn't generally given long-term responsibility. In this case, though, he had to admit it made sense. Optimus was always busy, and so was Rhinox. Dinobot didn't have the patience to babysit, Tigatron and Airazor were never around, and Rattrap… no. Just no.
"Alright, Big Bot. I'll show her around. Uh, those empty quarters by the cargo bay… you want me to let her pick a room, or what?"
"Whatever she wants to do. Just keep her away from anything… sensitive." Optimus glanced back toward "Mimic", who had hopped down from the examination table and seemed intent on exploring every square inch of her surroundings. She may have been a robot, but she was still behaving more like an animal. The last thing Primal wanted was for her to get into Rhinox's tools, or -- Primus forbid -- the armory.
"Got it. C'mon, Mim… you okay with that name? Cool. Let's go, let the boring 'bots talk -- Dinobot!"
Optimus spun around. Said warrior stood in the doorway, looking down at Mimic with narrowed optics. She shrank back a little behind Cheetor, possibly just afraid of Dinobot's size, more likely of his expression. He didn't look particularly happy. He had his sword out, apparently just wiping the last traces of mech fluid off of it, but that wasn't helping much with his appearance. Primal stepped forward quickly, before anything awkward could happen.
"Cheetor was just going to show our new arrival around the base. Ah, Dinobot, if you wouldn't mind--?"
Grunting in lieu of a reply, the warrior stepped aside. Cheetor took the hint and hurried past, Mimic keeping on his other side and glancing back at Dinobot in a kind of wary fascination. Optimus watched the former Predacon carefully, but he didn't seem hostile, just upset. Frustrated? Disappointed? It was damn hard to tell with him.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, once Cheetor and his charge had left.
Dinobot shook his head. "So much for strengthening our forces," he said ruefully.
Primal saw no point in lying to him. "It's worse than you think. She's damaged, can't seem to talk beyond repeating what we say to her. Rhinox thinks he can fix it but he isn't sure."
It would be hard for Dinobot to look more disgusted with the situation than he did. He sheathed his sword and tossed the used rag aside, disdaining to comment further.
Rhinox glanced at the remains of the cleaning cloth now lying on the floor. "Is that one of mine?"
Dinobot snorted. "If you want it back, you're welcome to it." He glared at Primal. "Have we gained any tactical advantage with this new addition? Tell me at least she was armed."
"Barely," Rhinox answered for him. "A taser, and something that looks for all the world like a slingshot. Combat is clearly not what her designers had in mind."
It was only because Primal knew Dinobot so well that he was able to catch the flash of disappointment, almost sadness, that passed across his face. Then his scowl returned full force. "We have wasted much time and effort, then," he said to Primal's face, daring him to refute it.
Optimus met his optics. "Any member of our crew saved is not a waste, Dinobot. I wish you could understand that."
He looked very Predacon as he answered, "It amazes me how easily you forget that we are at war."
"I don't. Believe me." Primal sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Was there something you wanted?"
"Not anymore."
When Optimus looked up, the raptor was already striding out. He didn't bother to call after him. The brief joy and triumph he'd felt at retrieving their comrade safely was now all but extinguished by a dozen new worries and fears. He'd meant what he said to Dinobot, but all the same, he couldn't deny he too had been hoping for more.
- - - - -
The vervet monkey troop was in chaos. The trees were on fire, bolts of death rained down at random from above, and the attackers circling over their heads were larger and more terrifying than any bird of prey. Only the agility of the little primates had kept them alive, and even that wasn't always enough, as a few charred bodies could attest. They had no way of defending themselves from the alien invaders, could not even comprehend why they were being hunted.
"Show yourself, Maximal! Surrender, or this entire colony will BUUUUUURN!" Inferno swept his flamethrower from side to side, spreading fire to the few trees that weren't already blazing.
Terrorsaur shot at a monkey cowering on a nearby branch. The primate leaped clear not a second too soon as the branch was vaporized. "It has to be here somewhere. The energy signature's right under our noses."
"Terror-bot better be right this time." His partner hovered behind him, taking potshots at the monkeys as they fled into the open away from the burning brush. "Wazzpinator tired of wild-goose chase."
"That was a stork, and I tell you it was acting suspicious. Anyway, I wasn't the one who decided to bomb the river."
"Hmph. Maximal might have been hiding as a fish."
Inferno interrupted them. "Pay attention, fools! More enemies of the colony are approaching!"
"Well, look who it is! Here, kitty-kitty-kitty! Come chase the pretty birdie!" Terrorsaur was giddy, high on destruction, and he cackled gleefully while firing on the two Maximals. Cheetor and Tigatron hastily dove for cover, transforming as they did so. Tigatron regained his feet first, weapon outstretched, a deep growl welling up in his vocalizer as he took in the sight of the burning trees and terrified monkeys.
"Cowards! Take on something your own size!" He started firing, concentrating on Inferno who was causing by far the most damage.
Cheetor popped up beside him, shooting at the other two Predacons. He was the worst marksman in the Axalon, and knew it, but what he lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm. The two fliers quickly split to make themselves separate targets, and Waspinator began flying erratically over his head while Terrorsaur circled around to try and shoot him from behind. Cheetor stifled a curse. Neither of them was much of a threat individually, but throw in teamwork and they were more than a match for him. He really wondered whether they should've called for backup.
Too late now. He focused his aim on Waspinator while trying to keep an optic on Terrorsaur over his shoulder. One of his shots, by sheer luck, clipped the wasp's wing. Then he had to roll out of the way to avoid Terrorsaur's revenge missile, which exploded against the ground right next to him. The force of the blast added to his momentum and he kept going until he slammed into a tree trunk, almost losing the grip on his weapon.
Lying on his back, he thought he saw movement in the branches up above, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the Predacons. Terrorsaur swooped down and hovered low, where he could aim at Cheetor without having to fire through the leaves. His pretty face wore a decidedly unpleasant smirk.
"Come on, cat! Take your best shot. You can't even hit Waspinator's big aft, let alone--"
A small object struck him in the head. Cut off with a squawk in mid-sentence, Terrorsaur looked up -- only for another object to smack right into his face. It burst with a wave of sickly-sweet scent, splattering rotten pulp. The pteranodon shrieked and began frantically wiping his optics clear, but not before Cheetor was given a good clear shot at him. The Maximal forced himself to slow down, take a second to aim before actually squeezing the trigger. His shot took Terrorsaur square in the chest, sending the Predacon flying backwards.
Cheetor was getting to his feet when an olive-gray shape dropped out of the tree in front of him. A very large vervet monkey stared at him briefly with wide yellow eyes, then bounded away in the direction that Terrorsaur had landed. Cheetor followed.
"What the slag-- Hey! GIVE THAT BACK!"
Terrorsaur had dropped his weapon when Cheetor shot him, and the monkey was now dragging it off. The Predacon lunged after it. Cheetor fired at the ground near his hand and Terrorsaur froze, caught in a sense of déjá vu as he again found himself staring up at the barrel of a Maximal's gun.
"…Let me guess. 'If I were you, I'd run'?"
He was injured, and he wasn't armed. As much glee as Cheetor normally took in slagging Predacons, he found himself lowering the gun. "Transform and get out of here, Terrorsaur," he said coldly. "I won't shoot at you."
"Well, how kind." Missile launchers popped suddenly into place. "But I can't promise the same." Before the Maximal could respond, he fired.
Cheetor was thrown backward violently. Stunned, he lay on his back, smoke rising from his chest. Terrorsaur's cackling sounded hazy and distant. Oh, now that was smart, Cheetor. What'd you expect from a Pred…
With effort, he cleared his optics and saw Terrorsaur looming over him. He wasn't as badly injured as he'd seemed -- most of the blast had dissipated against his shields and there was only a scorch mark on his chest to show where Cheetor had hit him. "Ah, Maximals. So stupid you almost defeat yourselves." Above the smirk, his optics glinted menacingly. "My turn."
A bolt of energy struck Terrorsaur in the side and hurled him off his feet. Cheetor reacted quickly, firing at him again before he even hit the ground. The flier landed on his back, limbs splayed, exposed circuits crackling. He groaned once, shuddered and went offline, optics darkening.
Dragging himself to his feet, Cheetor replied, "But we sure have you guys beat when it comes to teamwork." Brushing himself off, trying not to wince visibly, he turned to his rescuer. "Thanks, Tig--"
It wasn't Tigatron.
Round yellow eyes stared back at him. The monkey's little black forepaws were wrapped around the grip of Terrorsaur's gun. The recoil must have been enough to nearly send the beast flying, thought Cheetor in a sort of shock. Then his processor put itself together and he realized the obvious, which had been nagging at him all through the fight. No animal would be able to use a blaster, let alone hit anything, except possibly by sheer dumb luck -- and the odds of that were too slim to calculate. Besides, he was pretty sure those weren't the eyes of an animal he was looking into. He knew the difference all too well.
"Hey!" he said as the realization became certainty. "We've been looking for you!"
The monkey seemed to raise an eyebrow, but didn't answer.
Tigatron's war-cry broke off the introduction. Cheetor whipped his head around in time to see Inferno crash out of sight among the trees, trailing flame and smoke -- for once not on purpose. Of Waspinator there was no sign. That wasn't too surprising; the wasp knew a hopeless fight when he saw one, and would usually withdraw if there was no one else around to push him, coming back after the shooting stopped to assess the damage and pick up the pieces. Really, he had more sense than half the other Predacons combined. Still, Cheetor kept a wary optic on the sky as Tigatron rematerialized from the trees.
"Nice work, little cat!" The tracker's shoulder was badly singed. "Inferno put up a good fight, but he finally went down -- right into the river. I found that fitting." It was then that he noticed the monkey, and his expression turned to puzzlement. "Is… is it holding a gun?"
Cheetor couldn't help laughing. "Hey, that gun just saved my tail. Say hi to our newest Maximal!" He gestured at the small primate, which sat down contentedly on its haunches and started scratching its head. Tigatron looked highly dubious.
"Erm… hi," he said uncertainly.
The monkey threw the gun aside and drew itself up on its hind legs, its head barely as high as Tigatron's waist. It chirped twice, then repeated "Hi" very clearly in a frighteningly accurate rendition of the scout's voice.
Both cats jumped, then gave a relieved laugh. "Glad to see you've got a sense of humor," said Tigatron.
"Big Bot's gonna be so happy to meet you," Cheetor added, talking quickly with excitement, his injuries all but forgotten. "He's kind of a monkey too -- you'll like him. What's your name?"
The monkey hesitated, then dropped to all fours. It grunted at them, made a whuffing sound through its cheeks, then a noise like "raugh". It grunted some more and then paused, looking back and forth between the two Maximals as if waiting for a response.
Cheetor frowned, wondering if maybe he'd somehow been wrong. "Err… sorry, I don't understand. Could you repeat that?"
The monkey cocked its head sharply. "Sorry, I don't understand." This time it spoke in Cheetor's voice, matching his tone and words exactly.
The two cats looked at each other, realization dawning. Uh-oh.
- - - - -
"There's nothing wrong with her vocalizer," Rhinox pronounced, lowering the scanner. His subject was now in robot mode, greedily gulping down a cube of energon, and hardly seemed to be paying attention to the other Maximals in the room, who also included Optimus and Cheetor.
It was Cheetor who blurted out, "Her vocalizer? Really?"
Rhinox gave him the look he reserved for people who asked stupid questions at particularly stupid times. "Yes. As I was saying, her vocalizer's fine. It's got to be a software problem, which really isn't surprising. These crash-landings take a heavy toll on the pods. We're lucky Tigatron only came out with an identity glitch." He started packing equipment away, rescuing a small probe from the grasp of the new Maximal, whose hands seemed to wander almost independent from her body.
"Can it be repaired?" Optimus was naturally concerned. They had rescued their comrade from the Predacons only to be confronted with a new problem.
"To be honest, I'm not even sure what's wrong at this point. I'll have to run more tests, some deep scans, a full systems check. My best guess is that her language tracks are scrambled. If that's the only problem, it's easy to remedy -- I can whip up a language primer and upload it straight into her processor. On the other hand, if the damage is worse than that, there might not be anything I can do. I'm not a qualified neurosurgeon, and even if I was, I don't have the best equipment to work with."
"…I see."
"But I'll do what I can. Good news is, physically she's a picture of health. And there doesn't appear to be any processor damage other than speech-related, though it's a little hard to be sure."
The new Maximal held her now-empty cube upside-down and shook out the last few drops, watching them fall to the floor with almost child-like interest. Optimus wondered if Rhinox might be wrong about that processor damage. If not, then they apparently had one weird Maximal on their hands.
As the others talked, Cheetor's attention was riveted on the new recruit. She'd transformed herself by repeating the "Maximize!" command after watching them demonstrate a couple times. Even so, Cheetor wasn't sure how Rhinox could tell this was a fembot. Her build was closer to his own than to, say, Blackarachnia's. And she was tiny, even in this mode. If Rattrap had been here, there might have been a couple centimeters, at most, of height difference between them.
"What about her capabilities?" Optimus asked. He didn't like having to talk about someone as if they weren't right there, but she didn't seem to be listening anyway.
Rhinox looked over the readings he'd recorded. "Her sensornet is about as advanced as Rattrap's. She's probably designed as a scout, maybe just a data recorder. She seems to have mimicry down pat."
"Let's call her Mimic," Cheetor suggested. They both turned to stare at him. "What? We gotta call her something."
Optimus sighed. "Well, we'll just have to keep her here until this is figured out. She's not fit for duty right now, for obvious reasons."
"Hey, she helped me take out Terrorsaur with a piece of fruit! And his own gun!"
Primal just knew that was going to be a fun mission report to read later. "Be that as it may, she's damaged. Until we fix her, she needs to stay where it's safe. And I want you to look after her."
Cheetor blinked. "Wha? Me?"
"Why not? You were the first Maximal she met."
"Yeah, but--"
"You've been helping to look for her since the pod landed."
"Well, I --"
"At least it will give you something to do."
Cheetor relented. He didn't actually mind, he was just… surprised to be asked, honestly. He wasn't generally given long-term responsibility. In this case, though, he had to admit it made sense. Optimus was always busy, and so was Rhinox. Dinobot didn't have the patience to babysit, Tigatron and Airazor were never around, and Rattrap… no. Just no.
"Alright, Big Bot. I'll show her around. Uh, those empty quarters by the cargo bay… you want me to let her pick a room, or what?"
"Whatever she wants to do. Just keep her away from anything… sensitive." Optimus glanced back toward "Mimic", who had hopped down from the examination table and seemed intent on exploring every square inch of her surroundings. She may have been a robot, but she was still behaving more like an animal. The last thing Primal wanted was for her to get into Rhinox's tools, or -- Primus forbid -- the armory.
"Got it. C'mon, Mim… you okay with that name? Cool. Let's go, let the boring 'bots talk -- Dinobot!"
Optimus spun around. Said warrior stood in the doorway, looking down at Mimic with narrowed optics. She shrank back a little behind Cheetor, possibly just afraid of Dinobot's size, more likely of his expression. He didn't look particularly happy. He had his sword out, apparently just wiping the last traces of mech fluid off of it, but that wasn't helping much with his appearance. Primal stepped forward quickly, before anything awkward could happen.
"Cheetor was just going to show our new arrival around the base. Ah, Dinobot, if you wouldn't mind--?"
Grunting in lieu of a reply, the warrior stepped aside. Cheetor took the hint and hurried past, Mimic keeping on his other side and glancing back at Dinobot in a kind of wary fascination. Optimus watched the former Predacon carefully, but he didn't seem hostile, just upset. Frustrated? Disappointed? It was damn hard to tell with him.
"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, once Cheetor and his charge had left.
Dinobot shook his head. "So much for strengthening our forces," he said ruefully.
Primal saw no point in lying to him. "It's worse than you think. She's damaged, can't seem to talk beyond repeating what we say to her. Rhinox thinks he can fix it but he isn't sure."
It would be hard for Dinobot to look more disgusted with the situation than he did. He sheathed his sword and tossed the used rag aside, disdaining to comment further.
Rhinox glanced at the remains of the cleaning cloth now lying on the floor. "Is that one of mine?"
Dinobot snorted. "If you want it back, you're welcome to it." He glared at Primal. "Have we gained any tactical advantage with this new addition? Tell me at least she was armed."
"Barely," Rhinox answered for him. "A taser, and something that looks for all the world like a slingshot. Combat is clearly not what her designers had in mind."
It was only because Primal knew Dinobot so well that he was able to catch the flash of disappointment, almost sadness, that passed across his face. Then his scowl returned full force. "We have wasted much time and effort, then," he said to Primal's face, daring him to refute it.
Optimus met his optics. "Any member of our crew saved is not a waste, Dinobot. I wish you could understand that."
He looked very Predacon as he answered, "It amazes me how easily you forget that we are at war."
"I don't. Believe me." Primal sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Was there something you wanted?"
"Not anymore."
When Optimus looked up, the raptor was already striding out. He didn't bother to call after him. The brief joy and triumph he'd felt at retrieving their comrade safely was now all but extinguished by a dozen new worries and fears. He'd meant what he said to Dinobot, but all the same, he couldn't deny he too had been hoping for more.