Mind the Signs 6
Continued from here
Re-education
Prowl loomed as best as he was able over Sideswipe. The red front-liner cringed under his superior’s bland but unfailing gaze and the sight of the datapad -that blasted datapad- plugged into Prowl’s wrist port.
“Sir?”
Prowl very, very slowly, deliberately slid his optics down to the datapad. Then, just as painstakingly slow, back up to Sideswipe’s face. The tactician’s expression remained smooth and unfazed. It was like staring into the face of the Unmaker.
“Sideswipe,” Prowl began in slow, measured tones. “Having perused through this fascinating piece of literature, it has come to my attention that you have distressingly little knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy. For a front-line warrior, this lack of knowledge could have fatal consequences on the battlefield. This oversight must be corrected and so I have conferred with Ratchet. You will be having remedial classes with him twice an orn until your knowledge is up to acceptable standards.”
Sideswipe’s EM field spiked in anxiety. As a front-liner and a former gladiator, his knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy was actually considerably higher than that of the average Autobot. And Prowl knew it.
Ratchet knew it.
“But I know-”
“Jazz fried his processor trying to understand chapter forty nine,” the tactician added calmly. “Ratchet is understandably upset.”
Sideswipe was almost afraid to know what had managed to reduced unpredictable, adaptable Jazz to the medic’s tender mercy. “Chapter forty-nine?”
“He said it was something called…breathplay I believe?” Prowl levelled a very dull, disappointed look at the front-liner, like he couldn’t believe the levels of lunacy they were descending to. It made Sideswipe feel about two inches tall.
“Well…”
“Don’t try to blame it on the humans,” Prowl advised pleasantly as though sensing the turn Sideswipe’s thoughts were about to take.
“The book is selling very well,” Sideswipe said instead as a peace offering. “All the money it’s made is going into Teletraan’s accounts.”
And not into Sideswipe’s own personal accounts. It was clear by his tone that he thought this was a major sacrifice that he’d nobly conceded to on his part and not because Jazz had hacked his accounts and simply given him no choice in the matter.
“That’s very nice,” the tactician said agreeably. “Your first lesson will be on our air systems and how anything that induces sensations from them would involve major breakage and structural damage.”
The frontliner knew when he’d been beaten. But he still had one question. “Sir? Why…why are you still reading that?”
Prowl paused and gave the datapad clutched in his grasp a cursory look as if it could explain all the madness in the world. Or at the very least, the chaos that lurked within the red front-liner in front of him.
“Inoculation,” he said simply, blinking his optics once. “I think Jazz is trying to adapt it to a viral form to be used to torture information out of Decepticon prisoners. He is very enthusiastic about it but given that the condition he arrived in the med-bay, I’m afraid it’s quite potent. I’m certain the Decepticons have also noticed this potential. Our intel does indicate that it has come to their attention and that most of the Decepticon High Command has read it.”
Sideswipe eyed the datapad with fresh horror. “Has Prime authorized this?” he questioned in a very small voice.
“Prime has informed me that your titillating historical account does not exist. Because if it did, he would have to execute you.”
Sideswipe gave Prowl a very sad look. It did not dredge any sympathy from his superior. “I think I’m going to go see Ratchet and get a head-start on those lessons,” he said, recognising that he’d burnt all his bridges with Autobot command.
As he walked off, Prowl called out. “Sideswipe? I also informed Ratchet that you clearly also needed basic Cybertronian interfacing education. I believe he has scheduled you in with the session he is giving the Dinobots. He said something about needing an aid for practical demonstrations…?”
Re-education
Prowl loomed as best as he was able over Sideswipe. The red front-liner cringed under his superior’s bland but unfailing gaze and the sight of the datapad -that blasted datapad- plugged into Prowl’s wrist port.
“Sir?”
Prowl very, very slowly, deliberately slid his optics down to the datapad. Then, just as painstakingly slow, back up to Sideswipe’s face. The tactician’s expression remained smooth and unfazed. It was like staring into the face of the Unmaker.
“Sideswipe,” Prowl began in slow, measured tones. “Having perused through this fascinating piece of literature, it has come to my attention that you have distressingly little knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy. For a front-line warrior, this lack of knowledge could have fatal consequences on the battlefield. This oversight must be corrected and so I have conferred with Ratchet. You will be having remedial classes with him twice an orn until your knowledge is up to acceptable standards.”
Sideswipe’s EM field spiked in anxiety. As a front-liner and a former gladiator, his knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy was actually considerably higher than that of the average Autobot. And Prowl knew it.
Ratchet knew it.
“But I know-”
“Jazz fried his processor trying to understand chapter forty nine,” the tactician added calmly. “Ratchet is understandably upset.”
Sideswipe was almost afraid to know what had managed to reduced unpredictable, adaptable Jazz to the medic’s tender mercy. “Chapter forty-nine?”
“He said it was something called…breathplay I believe?” Prowl levelled a very dull, disappointed look at the front-liner, like he couldn’t believe the levels of lunacy they were descending to. It made Sideswipe feel about two inches tall.
“Well…”
“Don’t try to blame it on the humans,” Prowl advised pleasantly as though sensing the turn Sideswipe’s thoughts were about to take.
“The book is selling very well,” Sideswipe said instead as a peace offering. “All the money it’s made is going into Teletraan’s accounts.”
And not into Sideswipe’s own personal accounts. It was clear by his tone that he thought this was a major sacrifice that he’d nobly conceded to on his part and not because Jazz had hacked his accounts and simply given him no choice in the matter.
“That’s very nice,” the tactician said agreeably. “Your first lesson will be on our air systems and how anything that induces sensations from them would involve major breakage and structural damage.”
The frontliner knew when he’d been beaten. But he still had one question. “Sir? Why…why are you still reading that?”
Prowl paused and gave the datapad clutched in his grasp a cursory look as if it could explain all the madness in the world. Or at the very least, the chaos that lurked within the red front-liner in front of him.
“Inoculation,” he said simply, blinking his optics once. “I think Jazz is trying to adapt it to a viral form to be used to torture information out of Decepticon prisoners. He is very enthusiastic about it but given that the condition he arrived in the med-bay, I’m afraid it’s quite potent. I’m certain the Decepticons have also noticed this potential. Our intel does indicate that it has come to their attention and that most of the Decepticon High Command has read it.”
Sideswipe eyed the datapad with fresh horror. “Has Prime authorized this?” he questioned in a very small voice.
“Prime has informed me that your titillating historical account does not exist. Because if it did, he would have to execute you.”
Sideswipe gave Prowl a very sad look. It did not dredge any sympathy from his superior. “I think I’m going to go see Ratchet and get a head-start on those lessons,” he said, recognising that he’d burnt all his bridges with Autobot command.
As he walked off, Prowl called out. “Sideswipe? I also informed Ratchet that you clearly also needed basic Cybertronian interfacing education. I believe he has scheduled you in with the session he is giving the Dinobots. He said something about needing an aid for practical demonstrations…?”