Experiences Chapter 10 Part Two
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DoX
“Before you step off this bus I want to make a few things clear to all of you with dreams of becoming a medic and playing the hero.” Stern violet eyes swept over the last group of arrivals that made up his new class. “I am a medic first and foremost. On occasion I have been called upon to act as a soldier but that has always been in defense of my patients.”
Dark lashes swept across pale cheeks as Sam closed his eyes briefly. “This isn’t a game,” he spoke up softly. “The medical units have one of the highest fatality rates out of any of the Allied Forces, with the exception of the special ops teams that are run in conjunction with those under the command of Autobot Jazz, who happens to be the head of special operations.
“This is your last chance to decide if this is what you really want to do,” Tapping the edge of the clipboard against the side of his thigh absently, Sam swiped a hand across his forehead before any sweat could drip down into his eyes. “Because if you stay here then chances are you’re gonna die out on the field doing your fraggin’ best to keep your patients from getting hurt any more than they already are. Not all of you will be cut out to be field medics but the Decepticons have already proven that they have no qualms with attacking the med-centers or with kidnapping the medics to repair their own.”
“Kinda harsh, ain’t ‘e?” One of the soldiers that had been given escort duty leaned closer to the man next to him as he spoke in a whisper, missing the way the other man stiffened as Epps’ eyes fell on them. “I mean, come on, what kinda action is a robot medic gonna see?”
“Ya got somethin’ y’wanna add to Major Lennox’s speech there, soldier?” Epps’ voice was silky smooth as he crossed his arms while glaring up at the slightly taller soldier he’d caught speaking. “Cause I’m sure Major Lennox’d be interested in knowin’ how ya know so much more than ‘im as to be speakin’ when he is. ’Specially when ya look at the fact that he’s a superior officer an’ all.”
“Sir, no sir.”
Sam tilted his head to the side as he glanced curiously over at the now nervous soldier with Epps standing in front of him. Hearing the almost fearful quality to the man’s voice as his brother’s best friend and Second in Command did some impressive looming, the younger man shook his head in wry amusement.
“The majority of you will never be asked to work outside of the confines of a designated triage center but there will be the rare few among you that will.” Sighing softly at the looks of complete confusion most of them were giving him, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “The higher your level of skill is linked to the intensity with which the Decepticons will target you.”
“So that’s it and now you’ve got a choice to make. You’ve gotta decide whether or not this post is worth your life. You’ve got fifteen minutes. I’ll be waiting for you off the bus and then we’ll get started with the first of what I’ll be teaching you.” Holding the rapt gazes of his potential students, Sam noted the mix of both fear and determination that adorned several faces. Catching Epps attention, Sam gestured towards the entrance of the base as he stepped off of the bus onto the hard packed earth below.
“You don’t think you were too hard on ‘em?” Epps asked softly as he followed behind the other man to stand in the shade that the base entrance offered. “A lot of ‘em still kids, y’know?”
“Maybe,” Sam acknowledged with a small shrug of his shoulders as he leaned against a nearby wall. “But it’s better that they know now. Better that they know the risks before they get so far and decide that it’s not worth it at all. Because then it’s a waste of my time and a spot that could have been filled by someone who would’ve gone the whole way instead.”
“You changed since you was gone.”
“Not like I could have stayed a kid forever, you know?” Glaring at the lock of hair that had escaped the confines of his ponytail to drag across his face like the tail of a kite, Sam missed the concern that flashed through dark eyes before it was masked by an almost forced cheerfulness. “Besides it’s not like I really had much of a choice about growing up when there isn’t someone there to protect you against the darker aspects of war that you always knew about but never really understood until you were forced to.”
“Ain’t like you to see the glass half empty, Sam.” Sharp eyes noticed for the first time the dark circles lining weary amethyst orbs as well as the dull hair that hung limply for the first time in his recollection. “Somethin’ happen that we don’t know ‘bout?”
Purple orbs flicked up from their almost intense study of the breeze blowing miniature dust devils across the unpaved ground. “I was in London when the civilian centers were being evacuated. I thought-” Sam swallowed hard as he squinted against the harsh desert sunlight, “I thought I’d seen the worst of it during Mission City. It’s a lot of the reason why when I was given the chance to pick sides, I took it. I couldn’t stay neutral when it was as good as endorsing their actions since I wouldn’t act against them or even really speak out without the worry of being seen as picking sides where I shouldn’t.”
“Will know?”
“Didn’t think he needed to worry.”
“Didn’t think-he’s your brother man and you be thinkin’ he ain’t gonna wanna know ‘bout shit like that when it’s happenin’?”
“And what’s telling him going to change, Epps?”
“He’d rather you be the one tellin’ him ‘stead of lettin’ him read it outta some report!”
Eyes narrowing as he straightened from his relaxed position leaning against the wall, Sam watched the first of his students stepping down from the bus. “He’s my brother, Rob. He’s my brother and I know that the rest of you think that I’m some kind of little kid that can’t do anything without him there to hold my hand but even a little kid knows when to keep their mouth shut.” Tucking his hands into pockets as he avoided eye contact with the other man, Sam began walking towards his new students with his words drifting through the air behind him. “You and I both know that he’s better off not knowing what all I got up to while I was gone.”
DoX
“Congratulations to those of you that decided to leave the bus.” Sitting on top of the desk in his meticulously arranged classroom, Sam’s hands were clasped together in his lap as his feet tapped an unconscious rhythm against the aged wood. “That means that you’ve passed the first of what I promise will be a grueling series of tests that will leave you ready to face everything you’ll see as a medic. You’ll probably hate me about as much as I hated my own CO when I signed up but like he told me, ‘if you hate me then I’m doing my job’.
“Being a medic isn’t easy and it isn’t something that you can just decide to walk away from because you’ve finally realized how hard it is. The medical program has strict standards with the final decisions on medic candidates resting with the Autobot CMO Ratchet.” Hopping down from his perch on the desk to land lightly on the balls of his feet, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he leaned back on it, Sam eyed the small group with a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “I can’t promise you that you’ll be one of the greatest medics out there but I can promise that there won’t be a person out there who can fault your skills after experiencing them.”
Reaching behind him to grab the small sheaf of papers that were stacked neatly on the far corner of the desk, Sam dropped them onto the lap of the student closest to him with a light motion of his hand in the direction of the others in the room. Biting hard on the cheek of his mouth at the outraged look he was given in return, Sam leaned back against the front of his desk with arms crossed. A flicker of movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked up to see Sparkplug’s increasingly incredulous face as he flipped through the stapled packet of papers.
“As I’m sure some of you have already figured out, this particular section of the military is run a bit differently than the rest,” Pausing long enough to allow his words and meaning to sink in, Sam straightened abruptly from his slouched position. “Signing the papers that I’ve given you are nothing more than a formality at this point and are really more for the records here than anything else. Included in those papers is a list of the cultural differences between Cybertron and Earth. I don’t ask that you understand them like you would your own but I do ask that you respect them. This is one of the few rules I actually have set in place regarding your behavior outside of training and breaking of said rule will result in me giving Prowl the authority to punish you in any way he deems suitable for your transgression.”
“Um-Sa-I mean, Major Lennox,” Sparkplug spoke up with a puzzled look in his eyes as he held up one of the papers in his hand. “Are we required to do basic even when we’re part of the medical units?”
“Good question, but I’m kinda surprised that it’s taken you guys this long to realize it,” Grinning wildly at the looks of dawning comprehension Sam took the long moment of silence to lean back against the desk again with his arms crossed over his chest and violet eyes sparkling with barely suppressed amusement. “While most of the people you saw at the depot being shipped off to the sites designated for basic training will be trained by your run of the mill drill sergeant; you will be trained by Ironhide. If you’re going to be living with the Autobots you might as well be trained by one so don’t think that this is in some way a punishment. Ironhide is one of their oldest members and was at one point the head of the elite guard for the previous Prime.”
“An Autobot?” The incredulous tones rang through the enclosed room like the peals of bells on a clear day. “You want us to do basic with an Autobot?”
“I’m only going to tell you this once, so I’d suggest that you pay attention because Ironhide won’t care if you didn’t think I was serious by the time he's finished showing you all of the reasons why you should have listened to me,” Lips pressed into a thin line as he spoke, Sam tapped his fingers against the desk, “Most of the Autobots that are on Earth were at one point in time taught by Ironhide because he was and still is the best at what he does. Your best chances for extending the current life expectancy of a field medic are to listen to what he has to tell you and to do everything he says.”
“But you’ve gotta be kidding!”
“You seem to be harboring the delusion that I somehow care about your inferiority complex,” Sam retorted blandly as he continued to tap his fingers against the desk in an unrecognizable rhythm. “I’ve done everything that I possibly could have done to make sure that every student I send to the CMO for final evaluation is prepared to the best of my ability. Ironhide’s training will keep you alive and make sure your head stays clear long enough for you to do what needs to be done regardless of what little voice is there screaming at you in the back of your head.”
DoX
“What is all of this?”
“That,” Prowl spoke up dryly, “would be the official records kept of your Creation’s travels while in the service of the American military outside of the range of our protection.”
“But this is-.” Wheeljack’s voice crackled off into static as he stared down at the data pad now being held by his bond mate.
“It would appear that on the rare occasions that Sam was close to being discovered even with our own interventions that the Americans came to a solution,” Prowl said quietly, his mouth drawn into a tight line of dismay. “Major Samuel Lennox is known as the foremost expert on Autobot physiology and is responsible for the training of the medics that the resistance keeps for the few mechs that we are able to spare them.”
“He’s only a youngling,” Ratchet whispered, his optics dulling as he leaned back in his chair with one hand falling to his lap with the data pad still held loosely in his grasp. “He shouldn’t have-he wasn’t supposed to anywhere near the lines when they broke through.”
“According to all reports, Sam handled himself admirably and was the recipient of a battlefield promotion for the actions taken to save the life of one of our own.” Prowl rested his chin on his clasped hands held in front of his face as his own optics flared. “I was able to ensure that Sam received a guard for the duration of his stays in Europe and Blurr for all of his… quirks, is a dependable mech and has maintained his silence for the past three solar cycles.”
“He shouldn’t have been on the battlefields to begin with!” Ratchet snarled, his face plates tensing with the strain of keeping his temper in line. “He. Is. A. Youngling! And more important than that is the fact that he’s my fraggin’ youngling!”
“What would you have had him do when the knowledge to save Sparks rested within his grasp? Would you have had him turn away from those in need of his aid?” The tactician asked coolly, his optic ridges rose in mild curiosity while his optics glimmered with an emotion not often seen. “His actions are nothing but a credit to you and your bonded, Ratchet. Youngling or not, he acted in a manner that those vorns older than him have found difficult.”
“You don’t have any Creations so I don’t expect you to understand,” Wheeljack finally broke the silence that had fallen. “The only reason we let Sam leave like we did is ’cause we knew that he needed to sort things out for himself and that wasn’t somethin’ we could do for him. But if we’d a known that he was leavin’ so he could head to the fraggin’ front lines of this whole mess than Primus himself couldn’t have forced me to let our younglin’ go.”
“I think you forget the fact that more and more of our own arrive by the day.” Prowl rose from his chair with a languid grace that served to remind any watching that he had earned his position as Second in Command for more than his skills in strategy. “And while their arrivals are met with a great deal of relief I should not have to remind you that Red Alert maintains a near constant watch upon your youngling in a concerted effort to eliminate the possibilities of any attempting to take advantage of him.”
“It won’t happen and if it did-hmph, if it did then I guess there's still some 'bots needin' reminders 'bout why I'm the only one Prime'll listen to without arguments.”
DoX
It was quiet, but then it nearly always was, Sam thought bitterly as he squinted up at the cloudy skies with the swirling flakes of snow floating along the frigid wind that cut through the thick layers of clothing he wore. Wary amethyst darted across the abandoned landscape as the snow began sticking to the world around him, leaving a blanket of pristine white layering over the grayness that he’d grown accustomed to seeing. Jagged edges of broken concrete were softened by the feathery soft caress of the frozen liquid as they were blown in a silent dance by the bone chilling wind.
His Creators were going to kill him if the Decepticons didn’t get to him first, he decided grimly as he struggled to find a comfortable place to rest in the dark building in which he was spending the night. Hands rubbed raw from the chill that seemed to pass through even the thickest of coats issued by the military, the young man winced as a particularly tender scrape brushed against the floor in his attempts to find a comfort he was becoming increasingly convinced wouldn’t be found. It was the second night of his trip to Europe to meet with the fractured portions of the Allied Nations that were looking into training their own medics to help repair the few mechs that the Autobots could spare, and he was already beginning to wonder about the ease with which his old habits returned.
Finding one of the few buildings still marked as safe zones in the area that he and his escort were forced to spend the night in, Sam had quickly and efficiently gone about the nightly rituals that had once been so familiar he’d felt he would have been able to complete them in his sleep. Removing the clutter collected in the treads of the sensitive tires of his companion, he’d set about making himself a cold dinner from the supplies that were stored in the small portion of subspace he’d set aside for food. Stiffening and then relaxing as his escort settled down on a bare patch of cement near him, Sam returned his attention to the small data pad in his hands as he concentrated on memorizing the oddly shaped glyphs adorning the display screen.
“Whatareyoulookingat?” Sam didn’t look up as a small smile crossed his face when his fidgety escort walked over to him. Watching from the corner of his eye as blue optics brightened in recognition of the glyphs he was struggling to memorize and reconcile with the others already in his memory. “Iwasn’tawarethatyouwereliterateinmylanguage.”
“I’d be a pretty bad medic if I couldn’t read what your screens are trying to tell me,” Sam commented wryly as he squinted at a new word, his head tilting to the side in puzzlement. Head lifting slowly at the garbled mechanical voice, Sam furrowed his brow in confusion before smoothing with comprehension lighting his eyes. Pulling a stylus from his bag resting against his side, he made a few scribbled adjustments to the pad before looking back up with a questioning light to his face.
"IntheIacondistrictstheyweremoreformalthananyoftheothers," Blurr said as he bent down to point at a line of glyphs. "Alotofmechsdon'tcaremuchforrememberingtheformalwaysofwriting." Gingerly grasping the stylus as Sam offered it to him, Blurr made careful adjustments to the glyphs. "MostofIacon'sdialectisbasedontheiraccents."
"I thought those were just a glitch in the software," Sam took the stylus back as he studied the changes Blurr had made to the screen. "But you said they're accents?"
"Yup." Nodding his head as he pointed at a cluster of glyphs centered around a single accent, he traced the fluid curves as he spoke. "IaconusedtobeanareawheretheykepttotheteachingsgivenbytheThirteen."
"Oh," Biting his lip as he realized the glyphs made more sense with the accents included, Sam's eyes darted back and forth between the data pad and the pensive faceplates of the mech kneeling next to him. "How do you--how do you know so much about this?"
"Didn'tusedtobethatallanyoneknewwashowtofight,youknow?" Blurr replied, his optics growing distant as he lifted his head to watch the wind play with a few dead leaves dancing across the snow. "Iusedtotakemessagesbetweencities. IwasoneofthebestrunnersCybertronhadandarunner'sgottaknowthedifferentdialectsifhewantstogetthemessagesent!"
Waking with a gasp as he pulled at the sheets tangled around his legs, Sam shoved the covers away in a desperate attempt to stand. Stumbling as he caught the corner of his bed with his toe, quiet curses trailed behind him before the dim light of the bathroom filled the room. Fumbling for a moment with the faucets as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the light, Sam splashed water on his face before turning the water off. Standing there with his hands gripping the edge of the wash basin and water trickling slowly down his face, Sam felt the name roll off his tongue even as he moved away from the sink.
"Blurr."
DoX
“Senator! Senator! Just a moment of your time, please!”
“I have only a few minutes but they’re yours.” A middle-aged man smiled at the multitude of cameras surrounding him, tired hazel eyes peering out from behind the glasses perched on the very tip of his nose as a light rain continued to fall on his thinning salt and pepper hair.
“Senator Hayes, sources close to the White House have confirmed that congress has convened in a special session for the sole purpose of reintroducing the Food Rationing Program to the American people--what can you tell us about that?”
His hazel eyes darkening to become a muddy brown with the turmoil swirling within them, Senator Hayes paused a moment to sweep his gaze over the small crowd of reporters gathered around him. “I know the idea of rationing is the last thing that the American people want to hear about, but we’re facing something that our grandfather’s never even dared to dream about.” The wrinkles around his lips and across his forehead seemed to tighten for a moment as Senator Hayes took a breath to steady himself before continuing. “As a nation we are being faced with the all too real truths that come with being the sole remaining superpower left in the world. Signing a treaty with the Autobots is most likely the only thing that’s kept us from being crushed like so many of our sister countries have been. America is now being faced with the choice of using less to protect a greater number of her people. Everyday our borders are opened to more and more refugees that come to us lookin’ for the safety that their countries couldn’t give them. Our forefathers once declared this land to be the ‘land of the free,’ and as a people we hold a responsibility to uphold those ideals that have stood as our guiding principals.”
“Does this have any connection to the recent rise in the number of raids that are being conducted across America by the Decepticon forces?”
“I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch when I say that this is something that we could have never imagined happening.” Pulling his glasses off the senator reached up with his other hand rub at the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate the building headache. “But we have the facts in front of us that say without rationing, we’re going to be losing this war just as much as the rest of the world is. The plain and simple truth is that there're some days it’s all we can do to make sure that we have ample supplies for our bases outside of the bases run in conjunction with our Autobot allies.”
“Senator-”
“I think,” the senator raised his voice slightly to be heard over the reporter’s whisper, “that we’re swiftly reaching the end of the road, and if we’re going to survive then some sacrifices are going to have to be made. It might not be the most popular decision that can be made but I’ll be damned to the darkest pit in hell before I let America die when there was somethin’ I coulda done to stop it.”
"How long do you think you can keep on avoiding each other? Until you lose him completely?"
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