Vigil, Part 1
Title: Vigil
Rating: PG
Warnings: Just a bit of language, throughout.
Main Character(s): The Dinobots, Wheeljack, Ratchet, Optimus Prime
Genre: Introspective-y Drama
Summary: Swoop mostly dies. Everyone else spazzes out.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
"Swoop! Swoop, what wrong?!"
Sludge's anguished wail slashed through Grimlock like a point-blank blast from Megatron's fusion cannon, instantly wrenching his attention away from Slag and Snarl's latest argument. Up until the moment that Sludge squawked, it had been a normal, quiet day in a normal, quiet month in the Dinobots' huge lair at Autobot Headquarters, which had recently been dubbed "The Romper Room" by Jazz, a name that had stuck. Grimlock had been playing a "shoot 'em up" game on the computer in one corner of the room, but only half of his attention had been focused upon it. The other half of his attention had been devoted to keeping a wary optic on his comrades-in-arms.
Over on one side of the room, Slag and Snarl were arguing, quietly but heatedly. Arguments were everyday occurrences for the two of them. Slag was the bully of the Dinobots, always looking for a fight or provoking one if one wasn't to be found. Snarl, on the other hand, was a taciturn stoic who didn't much care about anyone and even less about what anyone thought of him. Snarl was usually Slag's favorite target for bullying, after Sludge. Slag was always trying to get a rise out of Snarl, for some perverse reason known only to Slag himself. Usually, Slag and Snarl's petty arguments were just that -petty. They called each other names, accused each other of being stupid, and impugned each other's courage - or lack thereof - under fire. In short, they blew off steam at each other and maybe they pushed each other around a bit, but that was usually the extent of it.
Then again, one never knew when one of Slag and Snarl's petty arguments would escalate into a serious one. If that happened, they could very well kill each other and perhaps a few innocent bystanders in the process. So Grimlock was as usual keeping most of his attention focused on the two of them, basically ignoring Sludge and Swoop.
Swoop and Sludge were on the other side of the room, engaged in one of their favorite pastimes: Sparring. It was something that never failed to amuse Grimlock whenever he watched them go at it. Sludge, after all, was the biggest and, arguably, the strongest of the Dinobots. Swoop was the smallest, the physically weakest and most delicate of them. Yet they got along famously. They were best buddies who often challenged each other to these mock battles, no powerful dinosaur forms or weapons allowed, just for fun. They had been in the middle of just such a "battle" when Grimlock had decided it was more important to keep an optic on Slag and Snarl.
Grimlock never did anything to discourage - much less stop - Sludge and Swoop's sparring matches. They never hurt one another, would, in fact, be mortified if they did. And Grimlock had long ago realized that it was actually good practice for both of them. Sludge, as the biggest of the Dinobots, was also the slowest and the clumsiest. Swoop was much quicker and far more agile than Sludge was, but to his disadvantage he also served primarily as air support for the Dinobots. He was getting rather good at air-to-air combat with the Decepticon jets and he had always been lethally accurate at dive-bombing enemies on the ground, but he had never been good at hand-to-hand combat, didn't have any real reason to learn. So by sparring, Sludge was learning how to fight an opponent much smaller and much quicker than he was and Swoop was...well, Swoop was just learning how to fight, period.
So now, hearing what might be trouble from the Sludge/Swoop side of the room was very disturbing to Grimlock. It meant that he'd possibly made an error in judgement in ignoring Sludge and Swoop. And he hated making errors.
Grimlock was on his feet in an instant, unfolding his huge body with surprising grace from the chair in which he'd been sitting. His optics locked onto the two erstwhile combatants on the far side of the room. Sludge's piteous wail had even brought Slag and Snarl's argument to a screeching halt, so all optics were suddenly focused upon Swoop.
For a moment, no one moved. All was silent...except for the strange sounds that erupted from Swoop's throat. They weren't words, these sounds, but neither were they only random noises. It sounded as if he was trying to say something coherent, but what emerged from his mouth was gibberish, as if his brain and his mouth were no longer on speaking terms. His hands were shaking violently. He was jerking his head sharply from side to side, as if trying to dislodge something annoying from his braincase. And then he collapsed ungracefully down onto one knee, and a squawk of confusion and genuine fear escaped him as his whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.
That was all that Grimlock needed to see. He charged over to Swoop's side, roughly shoving aside Snarl and Slag, who stood in his path. As Grimlock stomped to Swoop's side, Swoop looked up at him and his face was easy to read. He was terrified. That was a distinct rarity for a Dinobot.
"Grimlock," he croaked weakly. "Help. Help me!"
Grimlock knelt down beside Swoop, let Swoop lean back against him when he could no longer hold himself upright, easily supporting his relatively light weight. He was whimpering weakly, collapsing against Grimlock, slowly but surely losing consciousness. His entire body was twitching and shaking in Grimlock's arms.
Grimlock turned his gaze up at Sludge. He was standing next to Swoop as if he'd sprouted roots that held him securely in place. His wailing had stopped, and he was staring, frozen with concern, down at Swoop. He met Grimlock's glance, his expression at first haunted, and then a look of alarm flitted across his face.
"Me Sludge no hurt Swoop!" Sludge protested, apparently interpreting Grimlock's questioning glance as an accusation. "Me Sludge not ever hurt Swoop! Me swear!"
"Me, Grimlock know that, Sludge," Grimlock assured him quietly. Grimlock also knew that Sludge would be of no help in this situation, as upset as he already was, so Grimlock sent him on the only mission that he could think of at the moment. "You Sludge go get help. Find Wheeljack and bring him here. Tell him Swoop sick."
Sludge obeyed immediately, barreling for the door, his heavy, stomping footsteps rattling the metal plates that made up the floor of the Dinobots' quarters.
Grimlock knew that, of all the Autobots, Wheeljack was perhaps the most sympathetic to the Dinobots. For a long time, Grimlock had been certain that Wheeljack was sympathetic to the Dinobots simply out of self-interest, because he'd created them. But slowly, over the years, Grimlock had come to realize that Wheeljack was genuinely interested in the Dinobots and their progress as living creatures. Most of the other Autobots saw the Dinobots as cannon fodder - Optimus Prime assigned to them the jobs that everyone else was too afraid to do because they were dangerous. But Wheeljack...Wheeljack genuinely seemed to like the Dinobots. So Wheeljack was the only Autobot that Grimlock thought to call upon in this particular crisis.
Thinking about it again, Grimlock realized that he probably should have told Sludge to find Ratchet, but it was too late now. Sludge had already charged out the door, grateful for something to do. Grimlock could still hear him pounding down the corridor at a full run, but it was too late to call him back now. Even radioing him would make no difference, in all likelihood, since Sludge would ignore a hail at that point. He was particularly single-minded, after all. His brain could handle only one task at a time, and all of his attention would be riveted on completing that one task that Grimlock had assigned to him. So Grimlock turned his gaze on Snarl and Slag instead, and he growled at them in irritation. Slag was immediately offended, as usual.
"Why you, Grimlock, look at me, Slag, like that?!" he demanded hotly.
"Me look," Grimlock snarled, "because you idiot. You and Snarl!"
"Not idiot!" Slag and Snarl both protested, almost in unison.
"You both idiots!" Grimlock insisted. "You have another stupid, loud argument. Make me, Grimlock, watch you and not Swoop. Me Grimlock might have seen something wrong with Swoop before if me not so busy watching you argue."
Saying nothing in his own defense, Snarl merely scowled, turned, and walked away. He claimed a nearby chair and set about ignoring everyone, which was his normal defense mechanism.
Slag, on the other hand, was predictably furious.
"Not my fault Swoop big, weak baby!" he raged. "Not myfault he can't handle baby fight with stupid Sludge. Not my fault Grimlock too stupid to notice that Swoop sick."
That last insult, the one aimed at Grimlock himself, made Grimlock furious. He was just about to lash out, ready to club Slag over the head with whatever was at hand when he caught himself, when he realized that the only thing at hand was Swoop's body. Realizing that he'd almost unthinkingly done something that could have seriously injured Swoop by itself, notwithstanding whatever was wrong with him, he slowly reined in his temper. Calming himself, looking at a problem coolly and rationally, was something that had always been difficult for him, but it was also something at which he was getting much better. He was able to answer Slag calmly, which was certain to confuse Slag, and that would in turn defuse his temper.
"Is your fault you too stupid to keep big mouth shut," Grimlock declared emphatically but not loudly. "Go away, Slag."
At that, Slag scowled. He thought about arguing, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Grimlock had that "I'm in charge" aura of his securely in place, a shield that Slag had never been able to dent, try as he might. So he stomped as far away from Grimlock as he could get without actually leaving the room.
Satisfied, Grimlock sighed inwardly as he watched Slag retreat, and then he looked down at Swoop cradled in his arms. He was fully unconscious now, but every once in a while one of his arms or legs twitched, telling Grimlock that he was still alive, at least. Gently shifting Swoop's body in his arms, distributing his weight a little more comfortably across his legs, Grimlock sat back on his heels to wait for Wheeljack to arrive.
Hurry, Wheeljack, he silently pleaded. Hurry.
* * * * * * *
Wheeljack was sitting at the drafting table in his lab, idly toying with a design idea that had been ricocheting around in his head for the past few days. Leaning back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the tabletop, he began a few sketches on a small portable datapad.
He was halfway through this latest design when he became aware of a distant thumping sound that was getting closer and louder by the second. With a sinking feeling, he recognized the sound: Footsteps, the running footsteps of an extremely large Transformer. One of the Dinobots, he suspected, was about to pay him a visit. Wheeljack had narrowed his impending visitor's identity down to one of two possibilities, but he was still surprised when the less likely of the two candidates shot through the door of his lab as if he'd been belched from a cannon.
Sludge pulled up just in time, before he ran headlong into the wall. There was a look of utter panic on his face, something that was certainly rare for a Dinobot. They weren't easily rattled by anything, after all. Sludge's behavior instantly set Wheeljack on edge. Something, he now knew, had to be very wrong...
Most of the Autobots took it for granted that the Dinobots were morons. And sometimes the Dinobots did, indeed, act like morons. But Wheeljack was convinced that they did so mostly because they'd heard that they were morons so often. They'd started to believe what they heard about themselves all the time - that they were incapable of intelligent thought, incapable of compassion, incapable of any genuine emotion except, perhaps, for hate. As the Dinobots' designer, Wheeljack knew better.
Certainly the Dinobots' operating programs were much less sophisticated than that of a "normal" Autobot, but that wasn't the Dinobots' fault. If the fault was anyone's, it was Wheeljack's. He'd designed and built many things in his time, but the Dinobots' creation was a first for him. It was the first time that he'd ever attempted to design anything remotely as complicated as a new Transformer from scratch, without so much as an existing personality matrix upon which to build.
And on a whim, he'd tried to remain true to the prevalent human idea that dinosaurs were nothing more than stupid, lumbering brutes. In fact, at the time of the Dinobots' creation, the Autobots had sorely needed a dose of unfeeling, pure brute strength. But now, several years later... Now, Wheeljack harbored the guilty suspicion that he had done the Dinobots a grave disservice, that without really thinking about it he'd cursed them with a life of eternal ridicule, eternal prejudice. One of his greatest fears was that they'd forever be treated as outsiders to the Autobot cause when they had, in fact, saved the Autobots' collective bacon more times than Wheeljack wanted to count. It just wasn't fair to them that they were so often ignored. Even worse was the fact that when they weren't being ignored, they were often being ridiculed to their faces by their own allies.
So now Wheeljack did what he could for the Dinobots. He tried to spend time with them, did his best to educate them whenever the opportunity presented itself. He was always working on ideas to upgrade their operating programs, to try to undo some of the damage that he'd unwittingly done to them when he'd designed them to be simple-minded brutes. He often found himself defending them from the sometimes-cruel jokes that the Autobots made at their expense. The Dinobots didn't always understand the jokes, but Wheeljack certainly did, and he was offended on the Dinobots' behalf.
And, of course, Wheeljack was forever pleading the Dinobots' case with Optimus Prime. Prime certainly appreciated the Dinobots' value to the Autobot cause, but he would also just as soon keep them securely locked up in a cage like wild animals, to be called upon - used, really - only when it served the Autobots' interests. Granted, Wheeljack supposed that Prime was justified in shunning the Dinobots: Grimlock and his crew had almost killed Prime once. But still...
Wheeljack knew that if the other Autobots would just take it upon themselves to interact with the Dinobots every now and then, then the Dinobots would learn from them. Along with brute strength, Wheeljack had given them an enormous capacity to learn as they progressed through life, just as human children learned as they progressed from a messy birth, through childhood and turbulent teenage years, and on into reasonably intelligent adulthood. The Dinobots just weren't being given much of a chance to learn anything.
So now Wheeljack knew that Sludge wouldn't have come charging into his lab in a blind panic for just anything. Something terrible must have happened, Wheeljack knew, to make one of the Dinobots seek out an Autobot in the first place, even one of his own creators. Wheeljack stood up, eyeing Sludge warily as Sludge spun around and locked his panicked optics with Wheeljack's concerned ones.
"Wheeljack!" Sludge wailed. "Wheeljack, you come quick! Swoop sick! Swoop very, very sick!"
Wheeljack's optics widened in surprise. So that was it. The Dinobots might not care much for the Autobots, but they were usually fiercely loyal to one another when they weren't fighting amongst themselves, theirs the strange camaraderie often found amongst the socially shunned. And Wheeljack knew that Sludge and Swoop in particular were friends, kindred spirits in spite of their physical differences. Both of them were friendly and outgoing in comparison to the other Dinobots, always attempting to fit in even when the Autobots and particularly the other Dinobots ridiculed them for it. And of the five Dinobots, Sludge and Swoop were particularly vulnerable to ridicule, precisely because they genuinely wanted to be accepted. And now something was apparently wrong with Swoop, which was sure to make Sludge panic.
"Where is he?" Wheeljack asked.
"Romper Room," Sludge replied. "You, Wheeljack, come with Sludge! Help Swoop! Please!"
"I'm gonna try, Sludge," Wheeljack said reassuringly.
Sludge frowned at that.
"You always say not try, do!" he protested. "Like Yoda!"
Wheeljack didn't answer, although he was pleased that one of his lessons, at least, had apparently sunken into Sludge's head, even if it was a lesson borrowed from a movie. But now he was too busy thinking to comment.
Wheeljack couldn't imagine what could be wrong with Swoop. His mind was off and running through a list of the things that could go seriously wrong with a Dinobot. The list was short - and, distressingly, most of the things on the list were invariably fatal. Wheeljack felt the beginnings of panic flutter around in his brain. So he busied himself gathering up the equipment that he thought he might need, and then he rushed for the door. Without being told, Sludge fell into step next to him, a festering knot of worry who shadowed Wheeljack down the corridor.
"What's wrong with him?" Wheeljack finally asked of Sludge. Not that he'd expect a diagnosis from the Dinobot, of course, but maybe Sludge could give Wheeljack some idea of what had happened to Swoop. Sludge, however, just shook his head miserably.
"Not know!" he cried forlornly. "We play-fighting. He fine, but then he stop and say he can't move. Then he not talk right. Then he fall down and not get up again. Then Grimlock tell Sludge to find you. Me go. Me Sludge not want to see Swoop like that."
Oh, no, Wheeljack thought to himself, a sudden sinking feeling descending upon him. Me Wheeljack not want to see Swoop like that, either...
Immediately, he contacted Ratchet, the Dinobots' co-creator and the Autobot whose help Wheeljack now realized he was going to need.
"Ratchet, Swoop's crashed," he said succinctly.
"So what else is new?" came Ratchet's sardonically amused reply.
"I don't mean crashed out of the sky!" Wheeljack snapped, annoyed. "I mean systems failures."
"What?! " Ratchet responded, alarmed, all joking sarcasm gone in that instant. "How is that possible?"
"I don't know!" Wheeljack griped. "Just get your tail down to the Romper Room now. I'm gonna need your help with this, I think."
"Be there in a flash," Ratchet assured him.
Wheeljack hoped so. If what he thought was wrong with Swoop actually was what was wrong with Swoop, then he had to accept the fact that Swoop might already be beyond help by the time he and Ratchet reached him. But if anyone could help him, it would be Ratchet. Wheeljack's specialty was designing things; fixing them when they broke was Ratchet's forte. Without a word, Wheeljack broke into a run, Sludge following closely on his heels.