[Fic] Story of a Lifetime, part 12.3
Part 12: Inevitabilities
Chapter 3 of 5
Warning: Prowl being callously logical
Prowl sat in the small room, staring at nothing in particular.
The silence was unnerving after the chaos and noise of the past few groons, but he did nothing to break it. He was drained and shocked as they all were, but at least they were alive. Alive, when so many others had been lost.
All the walls were close here, the room barely more than a closet, but it was at least somewhere away from the endless questions. Even when they said nothing aloud, he could feel the pressure of their questions. Why had there been no warning of the attack? How many had died? Was Prime still with them? Was Optimus still Prime or had the Matrix been passed on?
Or lost?
He had done what he could, but he had been unable to reach the command centre and there had been too much damage done too quickly. At last count they had lost more than a third of their crew. Perhaps as much as half. Perhaps more. In truth, all he could be sure of was that the mechs crammed onto this shuttle with him had survived. They looked to him for leadership, for reassurance, for a plan.
For the first time in his life, he struggled to formulate one.
Was Optimus dead? He had no idea. The Prime's death should not by itself mean the end of the cause, and yet it would be a heavy blow to recover from. What about the commanders who had been on board? He had lost contact with all of them long before he decided to evacuate. Did any survive? How should he begin to regroup? Was there anyone left to regroup with or was this shuttle the last remaining unit of the Autobot forces? How widely had the Decepticons attacked?
~Sir?~
He turned back towards the door, straightening even though he was still alone. He had told them not to interrupt him, but in fact he welcomed the distraction.
~Go ahead, ensign.~
~Sir, Chief Ratchet has come back online and is demanding to speak with you.~
Yes, of course he would be. Ratchet had refused to leave the last of his patients mid-surgery, in spite of the obvious danger to himself. Reasoning with him had not worked so in the end, Prowl had personally shot him with a stun round and had him carried off ship. Then killed the patient.
It was the logical thing to have done: the mech was dying anyway, he would be a liability and would likely not survive the escape, and even if he did they had no idea when they would next have access to proper medical facilities. Better he died unaware on the surgical table than a lingering death during what may yet prove to be a futile escape attempt.
Ratchet would not see it that clearly.
Straightening his posture a fraction more and locking down his emotional protocols as hard as he could, he settled himself at the makeshift commander's desk in the room that had once been an arms locker. He could do this. He would have to, there was no-one else to do it and Ratchet's support was too important to them to lose.
~Send him in.~
"Well?" Sideswipe demanded anxiously.
Highball shook his head.
"Nothing."
Nothing. Same answer as before. Sideswipe wanted to pace and demand some action, but lacked the energy - he had spent enough time railing at everyone around him anyway. Instead he turned to glare out the porthole.
The battle had been a mess. They had been outgunned, outnumbered and frankly outclassed. Too many mechs had attacked these new models as though they were just splitters, only to find too late that these new fliers were well trained and very dangerous. Too many had died foolishly. Needlessly. And then the transmissions from the bridge had stopped altogether.
That had never happened in battle before. Blaster generally managed to get the messages through, and Prowl's calm orders kept everyone on track, but this time it had been Spangle and Broadcast keeping up the flow and no sign that Prowl had even been present. When the comm lines had fallen silent Sideswipe could take it no longer and had taken off towards the command centre, abandoning his team.
Abandoning his twin.
He shifted uncomfortably at that thought. Sunstreaker was still alive - he could feel that - but the last time they had been separated it had been beyond their control. This time he had made the choice himself, and his brother was going to be furious.
He dismissed that discomfort easily enough: the fact remained that Sunstreaker could look after himself. They both knew they were good at what they did, they both trusted each other's ability to keep safe. Prowl, though, was another matter entirely. The mech was so rarely called into frontline battle and was poorly armed for it. He could hold his own reasonably well in a ranged firefight, but in hand-to-hand he was mediocre at best. More, his doorwings put him at a severe disadvantage. Any damage to them would be debilitating.
As for Sideswipe's squad, well he had never really felt right about being in charge anyway. And there was so much chaos that no-one was really listening to what he was telling them. They would have to fend for themselves.
In the end, though, he had never even reached the command centre. Ultra Cadronix's squad had hauled him into a shuttle, insisting that the evacuation had been called and that he could come willingly or they would stun him. He had been tempted to press that, but the radiation levels were rising too fast and his injuries were slowing him down and Cadmium had sworn he had heard that the command element had already evacuated.
Later the blocky squad leader had admitted that that last had been a lie but that it was the only way he could see to get Sideswipe to move. And the fact was they were losing this battle, losing this ship, and anyone who had not left then was basically already gone in one way or the other.
As to Sideswipe's injuries, well he would live. He had lost a lot of fluid and he could not walk or transform because his left knee had buckled, but there were no medics on board so he would just have to make do.
"Some of'em have to've made it." Highball tried to sound optimistic. "They can't all've been killed."
Sideswipe did not bother to answer. There seemed little point.
He did not like it. He was more than capable of working out the probabilities and knew what he was suggesting was very high risk, yet there was no choice. It had to be done: the Escaphalion had to be destroyed before the Decepticons could access the information in the mainframe's databanks.
That data was encrypted, and as per standard protocol a virus should have been applied when they were boarded, but it was not enough. The encryption would not hold for long against the concentrated efforts of a specialist like Soundwave, and the virus may not have had long enough to do enough damage. If it had even been applied. In the chaos it had been hard to tell, but he had not seen any of the telltale signs. What if Broadcast had opted to wait in case they regained control? Spangle could not have ordered him to comply. The truth was that the Decepticons may already have access to data that could doom every remaining Autobot.
The thought steeled his resolve: destruction of the Escaphalion as soon as possible was the only viable course of action. It may not save them, but delaying certainly would not help.
There were other worries, though. Someone had helped the Decepticons, the attack could not have been so devastating if not for the actions of some sympathisers on board. And since the flagship's crew was so small that everyone had known everyone else at least by sight a stranger would have been noticed immediately, it had to be someone already there. Sleeper agents, waiting for orders or for a signal or simply for an opportunity. They could have been fighting on the Autobot side for vorns before this - Jazz had done the same on the other side, so he knew it was quite possible.
He lacked the data to track precisely what had happened, but he had enough to get an outline. Someone had shielded the approach of the enemy craft, someone had opened the airlocks to let the enemy aboard, someone had damaged the communications network to stop any long-range distress calls. Chances were, at least one of those someones was in the group he had escaped with.
He looked down at the list of names he had made. None of them seemed likely to be their traitor; on the other hand, all of them could be pinned to at least a tentative motive or opportunity if he forced himself to consider them as the guilty party. But that way lay madness - Red Alert grappled with that paranoia on a daily basis and Prowl did not want to go there. He could not afford to mistrust everyone, not if they were to stay as a unit. He would have to keep those concerns silent and watch and hope. And in the meantime, he had to act.
Who to send where, though? Ratchet could not be risked in the attack, and yet who could he be left in the care of while the others were out of range? If only the twins were with him, or Jazz, or Ironhide. Mechs he knew to his core that he could trust. They were not. Primus hold them safe wherever they were, but he would have to make do with who he had and pray that he got it right.
Stepping outside, onto the surface of the small asteroid where they had landed, he scanned the group for a distinctive frame. The mech he sought was huddled against a group of rocks, perhaps trying to rest. It had, after all, been an exhausting few joors and perhaps more so for this one than for most.
He had been a volunteer in the early stages of the war but had been deemed unsuitable for actual combat. He was given a role in the support staff, cleaning and maintenance. Unusual for his type, but he had taken to his duties well and performed them efficiently, seemingly happy to stay in the background. He had been aboard the Escaphalion when the transfer from the Ark had taken place and had remained there, never really catching Prowl's attention. And why should he? He was not involved in the endless pranking and misbehaviour, he did his work and stayed out of the way.
As it happened, in the confusion of the attack, someone had handed this mech a rifle and ordered him to shoot. Unexpectedly, he took down every Decepticon he aimed at.
"Bluestreak?"
The mech had not seen him approach, having been dozing, but now shot up in alarm and clipped one doorwing against the edge of a boulder. Prowl's own doorwings twitched in empathy before he brought them back under control - that would have hurt - and he put a hand on Bluestreak's arm to ease him back down into a sitting position, joining him.
"May I join you?"
"Oh yes sir! Please! I was just charging a bit, well not really because we haven't got chargers to use here, but I was resting because I haven't had my charge yet because it was just at the end of my shift and I..."
Prowl let the words wash over him. One thing he had quickly noticed was that everyone either ignored what Bluestreak said, or did their best to cut him off as quickly as possible. The garrulity was not productive, but he wondered if the desperation to speak might recede if someone would actually listen. Whether it had in fact been caused in the first place by a lack of attention. Another thing he had noticed was that if one allowed Bluestreak to ramble a little, the mech would not be so tense, and a proper conversation could then be held.
There had been plenty of time for these observations in the tense but actionless groons spent fleeing from the Escaphalion, praying no-one was following them.
"...want to ask me something in particular or was there something you needed me to do?"
"I am in need of someone to watch over Chief Ratchet." he said simply.
Bluestreak's doorwings fluttered agitatedly.
"And you ask me? Why me? There are plenty of soldiers here and any of them are better than me, I'm sure, and they'd all want to help out. Have you asked them?"
"I'm asking you."
"But what if I let you down? What if something goes wrong? What if I don't do it right?"
"You will do it right because I have asked you to." Prowl told him firmly. "There are many other soldiers here, just as you have pointed out, so you will have plenty of support. But I wish for you to take primary responsibility for his well-being for now."
"As a kind of bodyguard?"
"Indeed."
Bluestreak was silent for a moment, considering, then looked down at the ground.
"I'm not sure he will like that."
"I do not intend to give him the option of declining. You need not shadow him - in fact, given your obvious skill at accurate shooting I would recommend that you maintained your distance to retain the broader view. He may not even realise you are doing this."
Bluestreak looked up at him pensively.
"You think someone here will try to hurt him?"
"This is merely a precaution. Can I rely on you?"
"I'm not sure..."
"Let me put it another way." Prowl corrected himself, rising. "I am choosing to rely on you. And I trust that you will do a good job of it."
It was something of a gamble. If he was wrong and Bluestreak was a Decepticon agent he had just put Ratchet in serious danger. But the probability was low and he had to trust someone.
The battle alert was not a welcome sound. In the orns since their original escape, they had done what they could to repair each other with temporary plating and Sideswipe could now stand although he walked with a limp and still could not transform. It was enough to defend himself so long as he did not have to move fast. He snorted fatalistically. Like that was really likely.
Pulling himself into as stable a position as he could while still resting most of his weight on his right leg, he primed his laser gun and shoulder cannon. He wished Sunny were with him, but simply nodded grimly to the mechs around him. He was ready.
Unlike most battles he had been in with the flagship crew, there were no calm commands given over secured channels. This was more like the early battles back on Cybertron: every mech just had to do what he could to keep them all alive and pray it would be enough.
"I'm not letting you do this." Ratchet declared without preamble as he burst unannounced into the makeshift planning room.
Prowl kept his optics on the data he was inputting.
"Your concerns have been noted. The mission will proceed regardless."
"I rank you!"
"No, you do not." Prowl replied calmly. "When it comes to battlefield strategy, I rank Prime himself."
Ratchet loomed over him.
"You're not going to do this."
"We must. The data in the Escaphalion's memory banks is too valuable to be left to fall into enemy hands."
"That's why you ordered the virus uploaded if this ever happened."
"It's not enough. It's not secure enough."
"Prowl..."
"This is not up for discussion."
"What about your theory that there had to be defectors in the crew to launch the attack? What if they're with you?"
"We must take that risk."
"Oh we must, must we? Slag your composure to the pit, Prowl, you're talking about getting dozens of mechs killed, including yourself!"
Prowl looked up finally, stung and struggling not to show it.
"I'm talking about potentially saving hundreds." he responded levelly.
"What happened to your plan to save everyone?" Ratchet sneered.
"I save everyone that I can. Some things are beyond my control."
"Like when you murdered Ultra Ibix on my surgical table? Was that beyond your control?"
Ratchet's raising of that issue was entirely anticipated, and he thought he hid all of his emotional reaction to the accusation quite well.
"It seemed kinder to douse his spark then and there than to let him fade in pain on the run."
"Kinder!"
"And it happens that my prediction was correct." Prowl continued implacably. "We still have no provisions, let alone access to advanced medical facilities. He would have died here..."
"You don't know that!"
Prowl stopped himself from continuing that argument. The anguish on Ratchet's faceplates told him that the medic knew full well that it was the truth and was just not ready to face that reality.
"My largest concern is that there may be a traitor amongst those that I leave here with you." he changed the subject. "But I have taken what I believe to be adequate measures against that being an issue. It is vital that you are kept safe."
"Ha. And what about you?"
"Me?" Prowl asked blankly.
"Until we know if Optimus survived, you're technically the leader of the Autobots. You're just as important as I am. More."
"Optimus led from the front. In this case, I must do the same."
"Optimus was built for it." Ratchet pointed out. "You're not."
"Then I must be more cautious than he."
"Well don't come running to me when you get riddled with holes. Not until you swear that you'll never ever take a patient from me again."
"I can't do that."
"Then I can't slagging well help you."