OMG! YES IT IS! IT IS!! It's another update! Star-crossed Chapter 31/38(?) Blown Off
Title Star-crossed: Blown off (31/38?)
Pairings/Character Prowl/Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Rating M (This chapter is back to T)
Summary We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair
Author's Note Yes, it still exists. No I can't promise the next chapter any sooner. Honestly, the next chapter has been kicking my butt royally. It needs a massive rewrite and I feel really pushed to the limits in my plotting/characterization/writing abilities with it that half the time I don't even want to touch it. That and real life keeps reaching up and whapping me across the face, laughing at me all the while. But I won't go into that here. Also I keep getting distracted by things, games, anime, books and it eats away at my writing time.
Ah, well. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I remember having fun when I wrote it sooo long ago.
Thanks go out to the usual suspects. Y'all know who you are. Huggles!
Previously on Star-crossed
Blown Off
Prowl made a point of moaning, and letting his head sag before he turned away from Sunstreaker and spat the vile stuff out of his mouth. He wiped his lips clean of the slop, snagging the device with a quick finger and hiding it in his hand. He also glimpsed the tray, catching the words scrawled upon it (the handwriting nearly as familiar as his own) and trusting the virus to memorize every stroke of the glyphs.
‘You have ten breem.’
Prowl quickly smeared some of the thick energon over the tray, obscuring the words from view. Then he stood, unsteady on his legs, and aware that Sunstreaker rose next to him. “Get the cube,” he said, ignoring the way the words went through him like a sonic driver.
Sunstreaker scooped up the energon cube and shoved it into a white hand.
Prowl caught the cube, briefly juggling it until he decided it could be used to hide the still unknown device tucked between the fingers of his left hand. He took a wobbling step, his balance uncertain with his doorwings mere knobs, and all of his sensors screaming at him. His battle computer was fortunately acting as a counterweight to all the random data pouring through his processor. It took all these facts in stride, sorting through them for relevant data and discarding the rest. For the random data was not really random at all, but the result of input from something, such as the brush of air from a nearby vent, or Sunstreaker gripping his arm and steadying him again as they went over to his brother. Prowl’s systems still ran hot with the effort it expended in keeping his sensors at such a high setting, and that heat slowly crawled its way toward a meltdown. His battle computer determined that without a counter, or some way to lower the settings he would short out first, with a twenty-five percent chance of reaching critical meltdown shortly thereafter. Unless the battle computer went first, being located in the chest region, where much of the heat concentrated, in such a case he had a thirty percent chance of data overload that would result in madness. Any of which would take less than a joor to happen. Having reached this conclusion, his battle computer turned its attention back to sorting through the data.
They needed to get out, and to do so while Prowl could still function.
“What’s the rush?”
Prowl shook his head at Sunstreaker’s question and continued moving, he wanted to get over to Sideswipe before they talked. “I do want to be sure he didn’t leave any unpleasant surprises in the repairs.“
A look of confusion passed over Sunstreaker’s face, but Prowl had to let the mech puzzle it out on his own. He couldn’t spare the processing power to attempt to clue the warrior in. Thankfully, despite their reputation, the twins possessed a keen perception, and he kept his vocalizer muted until they hunkered down over Sideswipe’s prone frame. “I thought he was on our side.”
Prowl ducked his head, peering critically at Sideswipe’s left side even as he switch the Energon cube to his left hand so he could turn the limp arm over to examine the repair done to the elbow. He didn’t only look at Sideswipe’s damage, but also the object in his right hand, even as his left hand reached down into the space between the red back and the dirty wall. A disruptor in his right hand and a box in his left. Salvation when Prowl had expected none; disruptors acted exactly as their name implied, they disrupted energy traveling from one place to another, such as the energy that powered the bars to their cell. He decided the disruptor could remain where it was in his hand. It shouldn’t interfere with the work he needed to do. “My decoding software says he is.”
Sunstreaker hissed between his dental plates, and Sideswipe optics flickered online.
Prowl slid a white container out from behind Sideswipe and into the space between his thighs. The standard paint on the medkit slid, slick and smooth, under his fingers and along his inner thighs, eliciting a sharp shiver from his engine. Prowl fingered the kit open, the knobs of his doorwings lifting in a futile effort to obscure the action from view of the cameras in the cell. Then he turned his attention on the now conscious Toughline, unable to help but note every dent and tear, even the amount of energon still oozing from his lines. He surreptitiously clasped the mech’s lower arm, unable to put words to how his lover’s state affected him.
Sideswipe groaned, turning his head away from Prowl’s scrutiny. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want your pity.”
“It is not pity.” Prowl reached into the medkit, sorting through the tools by touch alone: ratchet, adjustable wrench, screwdriver, hammer, tensors, clamps, sealant, caps, stim packs, sockets, mini-welder, splicer, flex strips. It should be enough to let Sideswipe remain on his feet under his own power (even if he won’t be able to walk), so that he and Sunstreaker could assist him out. Neither he nor Sunstreaker would be able to bodily carry Sideswipe for any length of time, if at all.
Sideswipe huffed, laughter and pained moan all in one. “Then what is it?”
Counterpunch had already done a considerable amount of work, the hole in his side no longer sparked, and only dribbled occasionally. “Still processing,” he answered distantly. Nine breem, until Counterpunch initiated whatever distraction he intended. “Run a diagnostic. Is your tank sealed?”
Sideswipe’s optics dimmed, and Prowl could make out the telltale whirs and clicks of his systems scanning themselves for damage.
Sunstreaker shifted next to Prowl, his shoulder brushing against the sparking wires sticking out of the tactician’s doorwings. He reached across Prowl’s thigh and snagged one of the containers of wire caps from the kit, hiding them in the loose fingers of his other hand without any prompting, and then he took the splicer into his free palm. “Why is an Autobot here?” He ducked his head, hiding his mouth behind Prowl’s shoulder.
Prowl pressed his lips together, weighing just how much he should tell them. “I am not free to divulge security matters even to Sideswipe, much less you.”
Sunstreaker touched Prowl’s ragged doorwings, fingers curling around exposed wires, but he stopped, optics flashing. “We’re fragging imprisoned in a Decepticon holding cell, and you’re quoting slagging security protocols at me?”
Prowl’s hand smacked against the golden chestplate, spasming from the warrior’s grip. The back of his hand scraped across the mech’s already ruined paint job. “A Decepticon holding cell is exactly where security protocols are needed the most, Sunstreaker.”
Sunstreaker clenched his jaw, his words muffled between his dental plates. “Slaggit, Prowl, you will tell me!”
Anger flashed through hypersensitive emotional relays and he said more than he meant to; “I can’t tell you, because I don’t know.” Even so the probabilities ran through Prowl’s processor. He did not know the precise details for Counterpunch’s presence in Halifax, but Prowl was not privy to the name of every Autobot operative working subterfuge throughout the Decepticons, for security reasons. The fewer he could name, the fewer he could give up in an interrogation should just such an occasion as this arise. He could calculate the strategy behind waiting to help them escape when the numbers were more to their advantage. Why act now?
“You don’t know?” Sunstreaker snarled.
Sideswipe shushed him, air rushing past Prowl’s plating from the red mech’s gesture. “Are you trying to get us caught?” Sideswipe attempted to glare at his brother, but Prowl didn’t think it worked so well from his prone position. The red warrior turned his dim optics to the Energon cube
Prowl had set on the ground.
Conclusion: Starscream intended to take Prowl to Megatron. This could not happen. Counterpunch had to act before the tactician would be out of reach, and it was too soon for the Autobots to have mounted a mission operation. Counterpunch had never acted to actually harm Prowl, the pain he’d inflicted had all been superficial sensor ghosts that had ultimately ended in Prowl being in a better state than before the Decepticon had worked on him.
But why would an Autobot infect another Autobot with such a torturous virus? The memory activated unbidden-invasion, the click of a plug into a socket-but Prowl shook it off with a few complicated calculations regarding the pattern of dirt and grime on the floor. He had no time to give in to that!
“We don’t have time to argue over this.” His chronometer, achingly aware of every passing microklik, told him a quarter of a breem had already passed. He internally winced, he hadn’t expected it to take so long to cross the short distance to reach Sideswipe. He needed to get to work.
Prowl reached into Sideswipe’s open wound, feeling around for the support struts around his engine block and fuel tank. He could feel the broken ones at the edges of the hole, and the ones against Sideswipe’s back.
He grabbed a few tensors from the medkit, his chronometer ticking down the ten breem until Counterpunch did whatever he planned. It took three breem to weld them in place. Prowl worked carefully, poking the miniwelder into the wound with murmured apologies as Sideswipe whined.
Sunstreaker worked quietly next to Prowl, slouched against the tactician to hide the tool he twisted into his arm. The splicer hissed, putting wires back into place. Prowl counted the wires, easily able to remember the number that had been torn from their moorings. At his current rate, it would take the three breem Prowl needed on Sideswipe for Sunstreaker to fix the wires in his arm.
Prowl pulled his hands out of Sideswipe’s torso, when a shock suddenly ran through him. Sunstreaker’s hand didn’t pull away, but remained steady on the tactician’s shredded doorwings.
“What are you doing?” the tactician asked, vocalizer strangled against a scream. He braced his hands on the floor, head hanging and panting as the unending surges rolled through his frame. Sunstreaker sliced the insulation off the sparking wires, cutting the wires themselves to and then capped the ends with the rubber pieces from the container. He hid his actions with his shoulders. His damaged arm hummed with power surges, but it rested against Prowl’s waist, catching the scrap that fell from the doorwings.
“We can’t go anywhere with you shooting sparks like something from the Pit,” he commented, but he tugged a little harsher on one wire. “Why don’t we have time to argue?”
Prowl clenched his jaw, fingers digging a groove into the floor. Static filled his optics, and he didn’t have the capacity to answer the question.
“Easy Sunny. Don’t you see he can’t answer when you’re doing that?” Sideswipe murmured.
Sunstreaker tugged again, nearly ripping the wiring out.
“Primus, Sunny!” A black hand shot out, accompanied with the complaint of a stressed frame. It jostled Sunstreaker’s hand, holding it still amongst the wires and circuitboards in Prowl’s panel. “I know you’re on edge, but he’s on our side, remember? Really. You don’t have to hurt him.”
Prowl couldn’t look up to see their expressions, and even if he could, he didn’t think he’d be able to see past the static across his vision. He could, however, make out the grumble of engines, the cough of Sideswipe’s and the sputtering growl of Sunstreaker’s. He could even track the decibel and the number of revolutions their engines turned.
“Plan,” Prowl finally spat. He shuddered in Sunstreaker’s grip, the golden fingers tightening in miniscule increments that sent shockwaves through his overtaxed sensory net.
“Finally,” Sunstreaker snorted and pulled his hand from Prowl’s doorwing, resuming the repairs he’d interrupted for his fit of suspicious temper. The change came as no relief to Prowl and even the reassuring presence of Sideswipe’s hand on his thigh did nothing to ease him.
Three and a half breem.
Sunstreaker finished patching up the ragged doorwings, and reached for the tactician’s dented thigh, lifting the bent panel up to look at the damaged hydraulics underneath. Prowl glanced at the inside of his leg, evaluating the size of the hole in the pump. Quietly Prowl handed Sunstreaker the small tube of sealant, already aware of the presence of the hole, even if not the size of it. Sunstreaker smoothed a thick amount of the sealant on, and then pounded out the dents with the small hammer. Every rap against the metal shot straight through Prowl, tactile sensors, audio, tracking and visual. The panel clicked back into place, and Prowl slouched against the wall in relief.
Prowl seized the warrior’s hand, stopping it before the fingers even brushed his bumper. “That’s enough. There’s no more time. Can you stand, Sideswipe?”
Two blue optics glowed at him.
“I can manage, just don’t drop me, I’m fragile.” The joke fell flat between the three of them.
“Get Sideswipe to his feet.” He acted on his own words, and reached over the red mech to brace his hands on the wall so he could shove himself to his feet. Then he leaned down and grabbed Sideswipe’s arm, but he couldn’t haul the two tons of Toughline up with his malfunctioning arms. Even the hydraulic in his thigh threatened to give, the pressure inside straining the seal.
Sunstreaker stood and helped pick Sideswipe up, letting his brother lean on him when his legs wobbled beneath him.
Prowl stepped under Sideswipe’s arm, aware of the ridges where paint had scraped off. His torn doorwings gave him false readings, knocking his gyroscopic calculations awry.
Sideswipe took an experimental step, vocalizer audibly clicking off as his frame creaked.
Sunstreaker’s gaze stayed on the floor in front of his brother’s feet. “We’re going to draw attention like this.” His foot reached out, knocking aside the small pile of scrap that used to be pieces of Prowl’s doorwings.
Something bounced out, oblong and gleaming a bright blue that stood out in the blue-grey cell. The three Autobots stared at the small device, and the tiny face of Primus painstakingly applied to its surface.
Prowl belatedly recalled the toe joints shoved under his side, and Counterpunch’s seemingly meaningless action of kicking at this pile of scrap. He’d recognized the guard with Counterpunch, as he’d recognized no other soldier in this unit. The agent’s contact? “Sunstreaker.”
The golden mech didn’t even need any further instructions. He set Sideswipe against Prowl, his movements slow and careful as he pulled his hands away from the unsteady pair.
Prowl leaned his shoulder against the wall, distributing Sideswipe’s full weight across his frame. He tried not to let himself contemplate the hand that came to rest on his bumper, or allow himself to be disturbed by the head that lay against his hood. He made himself concentrate instead on the sounds in the corridor, in particular listening for the clang of approaching mechs.
Sunstreaker took two steps and swept down to snatch up the small device.
Sideswipe made no move, no sound as Sunstreaker returned, and for a moment Prowl worried they had stressed his systems into stasis. Sunstreaker didn’t appear worried, but that observation did nothing to ease Prowl’s concern.
Sunstreaker took Sideswipe’s arm, throwing it over his shoulders and lifted him off Prowl.
Sideswipe remained so still.
Alarmed, Prowl dragged his hand up to Sideswipe’s chest, taking hold of the corner of his hood and and turning the mech.
Sideswipe jumped, slapping Prowl’s hand down. “Don’t, please.” He shook his head, optics dim, but online. “Whatcha got, Sunny?” His frame creaked as he tried to turn toward the device.
Sunstreaker huffed, taking Sideswipe’s arm, but his hand knocked into Prowl’s shoulder plate, scraping into the jagged edges of Prowl’s doorwings, his fingers shaped oddly.
Prowl reached back, hiding the gesture in an abortive attempt to wrap an arm around the red back. He scooped the drive out of the warrior’s fingers, and promptly pulled his hand back to wrap around Sideswipe’s arm. The drive slipped between two of his fingers and he leveraged it against Sideswipe’s upper strut and finally into one of the data ports located in his own arm.
It hit him like a punch, every line of code initiated and downloaded from the drive. His fingers tightened on Sideswipe’s arm, and he couldn’t move his legs to keep the three of them moving.
It was all he could do to even stay on his feet.
The energon bars hummed only three steps away, and Prowl couldn’t move.
Two breem.
Decryption software started up, piecing through the packets one by one. Architectural diagrams for the base filled his imaging software; a path tracked throughout the corridors, circumventing the tri-colored circles scattered throughout the base, one of which was located right next to their cell. Each circle had two numbers inside, one denoting a numerical sequence and the other a time that linked up with his chronometer and started counting down. The first in the numerical sequence started at two breem, the one next to their cell was marked as third and began began in five and three quarters breem.
Prowl froze, gasping to cool his overworked processor. He needed to move.
They needed to get out of here.
His fingers still wrapped around the drivestick, and he yanked it out. He didn’t have time to finish downloading the entire thing. The action didn’t stop his processor from continuing to decode the partial packets, and he had managed to retrieve a few complete packets.
One of the packets had a very simple message from… Jazz? It had been Jazz? No time to think of that. The message simply stated, ‘Run!’, echoing Prowl’s sentiment exactly.
Prowl managed to get a hand up and shove the drive under his bumper. He lifted his head up, trying to move his focus to the energon bars that still hummed at them. They had to get moving, if the Decepticons hadn’t noticed their odd behavior yet, they very soon would. He shuffled a step forward aware of the twin pair of optics on him
The packets continued to decode, unraveling information about the base and the Decepticons in it.
Prowl pushed the two warriors forward by expedient of pulling Sideswipe with him..
Then, among the packets partially downloaded, he decoded a random set of commands that made him stop again. He didn’t recognize the exact codes, but he knew the particular pattern.
An antivirus.
“Prowl is everything okay?”
Sunstreaker’s voice jolted Prowl out of his thoughts. He looked up at the bright optics of the golden warrior, “Yes, let’s get out of here.”
He had the antivirus, but he didn’t know if running the program would immobilize him, or how long it would take. Receiving the viral packet, and the accompanying worm had knocked him offline. He could not risk that now.
One breem.
The disruptor slipped between his fingers, his thumb stopping it from falling through. Still no sounds from the corridor; were the Decepticons even paying attention? He wouldn’t take the chance. He depressed the two buttons on the wide end of the disruptor and sliced through the energon bars with two quick cuts. The bars flickered, current crackling between them, and then died. The disruptor hummed in his hand, and he turned it over to glance at the power gauge. Counterpunch must have given him a disruptor with a full charge; that one use had only taken it down to eighty percent. He depressed the buttons again, turning the device off.
Sunstreaker glanced around the edge of the threshold, and then pulled the other two out into the hallway.
A disruptor could prove to be an effective weapon at least. It could knock even a mech of Vertigo’s size offline, possibly even permanently. He couldn’t access his subspace to store it, and he hadn’t installed any caddy spaces in his frame. He finally decided on hooking it just under his bumper, next to the drive stick. He would need to be careful in how he moved, it would not do to have the disruptor go off while on his person.
Sunstreaker had just begun to pull them toward the main corridor, when Prowl took in their surroundings. He accessed the diagram, “No.”
Sunstreaker halted, an aggravated sigh rushing from his frame. “What now?”
Prowl jerked his chin back toward the opposite hallway. “Our weapons would be stored back there.”
Sunstreaker’s optics lit up in interest. “Well, we can’t forget those.” He glanced at his brother, and then his optics slid to Prowl. “It’ll be faster if I go alone.”
Prowl listened intently for only a handful of astroseconds before he nodded. “Hurry.”
Sunstreaker carefully settled the two against the wall, tucked within the empty cell adjacent to theirs. Then he limped his way down the hallway.
Sideswipe leaned against Prowl, hand covering the opening in his side. He didn’t meet the tactician’s gaze, panting raggedly and staring at nothing, his hand clenched at Prowl’s waist.
Prowl counted the astroseconds that fractioned the remaining breem until the first of the explosives went off. The faintest eddies of air disturbed his sensors, puffs from Sideswipe’s vents. What could he say to comfort him?
Feet clanged on the floor.
Prowl lifted his head, alarm spiking through his systems. The sounds came from the main corridor. He wrapped his fingers around the disruptor, and worked it free. He peeked around the corner, optics on the entryway to the brig.
Sideswipe stiffened against Prowl, turning his head to stare expectantly though he couldn’t see.
Four Decepticons turned the corner, guns in hand, and expressions terrible.
Prowl had nowhere to go, no way to move without dropping Sideswipe. He didn’t want to hurt his soldier-his lover-if he could help it. He didn’t even have the time to pull them further within the cell. He pulled his head back, not wanting to catch their optics. The generators that powered the energon bars should mask their signals, especially when the both of them weren’t running at optimal capacity.
The Decepticons faltered, sensor sweeps radiating out from their group. Prowl ducked his head, pulling Sideswipe behind him. Sideswipe sagged against the wall, obviously straining to remain quiet.
They didn’t even taunt the Autobots to draw them out. The slow shuffle of feet reverberated through the brig. Prowl’s fingers covered the controls of the disruptor, and he shifted against the wall, trying to give himself a better angle to attack whatever mech came around the corner.
“Hey, where’d you come from?”
“Aw, slag…”
The Decepticons opened fire, peppering the air with red bolts of energy.
‘Poppoppoppoppoppop.’
Prowl exchanged a glance with Sideswipe. He’d recognize that sound anywhere. He also recognized the hiss that followed a small burst of air. He cut power to his optics, turning his head away reflexively as warmth washed over his plating.
Sideswipe flinched beside him, ducking his head into Prowl’s shoulder.
He activated his optics, monitoring the way light reflected off the far wall.
Decepticons screamed in the hallway.
“I can’t fragging see!”
“Where’d that fragger go, I’m gonna tear him apart circuit and servo.”
“My optics!”
The fourth said nothing, but shrieked in pain, making Prowl think that he’d been on the receiving end of the initial barrage of acid pellets.
The light died, and guns clattered to the ground. Prowl turned to see Sunstreaker stepping into sight. The golden mech’s optics flared, his lips drawn back in a sneering snarl, and he wielded Prowl’s acid rifle in one hand, and Sideswipe’s flare gun in the other. His own electron pulse rifle was tucked neatly into the crook of his elbow, waiting to be switched out.
“Deceptiscum, you’re gonna regret coming down here.” Sunstreaker didn’t spare a glance for his two comrades still hidden in the cell.
“What do you think you’re gonna do? Lock us in a cell?”
Sunstreaker’s snarl turned into a vicious grin. “Do I look slagging stupid? Get on your knees.”
“Autobot gonna play at being a Decepticon?” one of the guards sneered.
Sunstreaker took a step forward, and fired a burst. “Play? No. You slaggers wrecked my paint. After dodging all that acid rain, you slaggers completely ruined it!”
Sideswipe huffed a quiet laugh, “There’s my Sunny.”
Prowl sighed, and drew Sideswipe toward the cell entry. He leaned around the corner, taking in the Decepticons kneeling in the hallway, and the guns against the wall. One lay just within reach.
He knelt, mindful of the mech leaning against him, to pick it up. “Sunstreaker, focus.”
Quarter of a breem.
Sunstreaker glanced toward Prowl. “I’m not letting them go, Prowl. Not after what they’ve done me. To Sideswipe.” He paused, switching out the flare gun for his pulse rifle. “Even to you.”
Prowl turned the Decepticon gun over in his hands. “I don’t intend you to. We don’t have much time, don’t draw it out.” He turned the weapon on the Decepticons and opened fire.
Sunstreaker’s smiled in malicious glee before peppering the Decepticons with acid and electron bursts.
With the guards taken care of, Sunstreaker wasted no more time in retrieving his brother. Prowl pulled out the power cells, discarding the guns as useless trash. He only took three. They had no room to carry more than they needed; no access to their subspace to store extra gear.
Time was up.
The floor shook beneath their feet.
Sunstreaker stumbled against the wall, but he didn’t let Sideswipe fall. Prowl widened his stance, clutching the three cells in his hand. Each vibration went straight through him, slowing him down with sound and motion, until the world revolved frame after much delayed frame. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe jumped over to him, Sunstreaker’s hand appearing in his vision suddenly to drag him up. When had he fallen?
The diagram of the base stayed in Prowl’s HUD. They were still too close to the explosion next to the brig, and they still had the explosion before that to deal with in a breem.
Two breem.
Processor caught up with sensors and Prowl tucked the disruptor back into the bottom of his bumper, and held out a hand to Sunstreaker. “My rifle please.”
Sunstreaker flipped the weapon over, fingers wrapped around the muzzle of the gun to present it butt first.
Prowl accepted it, checking the charge before exchanging the power cell.
“Think I can get mine back?” Sideswipe moaned, fingers flicking at nothing.
Sunstreaker hesitated, the flare gun dangling uselessly from the hand around his brother’s arm. Uncertainty furrowed his brow, and turned his mouth down.
Prowl took Sideswipe’s other arm, taking the weight with his good leg. “Give him the gun and let’s get out of here.”
Another moment of hesitation and Sunstreaker slid his hand down his brother’s arm, handing him the gun.
Sideswipe’s fingers curled around the holster of the gun, and he sighed in relief.
The tactician shifted his grip on his lover’s arm, and his fingers on his gun. “Move.”
Sunstreaker nodded once, and hitched Sideswipe a little higher. Then they made their way out of the brig.
~*~*~*~*~
Part 2
Pairings/Character Prowl/Sideswipe, Sunstreaker
Rating M (This chapter is back to T)
Summary We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair
Author's Note Yes, it still exists. No I can't promise the next chapter any sooner. Honestly, the next chapter has been kicking my butt royally. It needs a massive rewrite and I feel really pushed to the limits in my plotting/characterization/writing abilities with it that half the time I don't even want to touch it. That and real life keeps reaching up and whapping me across the face, laughing at me all the while. But I won't go into that here. Also I keep getting distracted by things, games, anime, books and it eats away at my writing time.
Ah, well. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I remember having fun when I wrote it sooo long ago.
Thanks go out to the usual suspects. Y'all know who you are. Huggles!
Previously on Star-crossed
Blown Off
Prowl made a point of moaning, and letting his head sag before he turned away from Sunstreaker and spat the vile stuff out of his mouth. He wiped his lips clean of the slop, snagging the device with a quick finger and hiding it in his hand. He also glimpsed the tray, catching the words scrawled upon it (the handwriting nearly as familiar as his own) and trusting the virus to memorize every stroke of the glyphs.
‘You have ten breem.’
Prowl quickly smeared some of the thick energon over the tray, obscuring the words from view. Then he stood, unsteady on his legs, and aware that Sunstreaker rose next to him. “Get the cube,” he said, ignoring the way the words went through him like a sonic driver.
Sunstreaker scooped up the energon cube and shoved it into a white hand.
Prowl caught the cube, briefly juggling it until he decided it could be used to hide the still unknown device tucked between the fingers of his left hand. He took a wobbling step, his balance uncertain with his doorwings mere knobs, and all of his sensors screaming at him. His battle computer was fortunately acting as a counterweight to all the random data pouring through his processor. It took all these facts in stride, sorting through them for relevant data and discarding the rest. For the random data was not really random at all, but the result of input from something, such as the brush of air from a nearby vent, or Sunstreaker gripping his arm and steadying him again as they went over to his brother. Prowl’s systems still ran hot with the effort it expended in keeping his sensors at such a high setting, and that heat slowly crawled its way toward a meltdown. His battle computer determined that without a counter, or some way to lower the settings he would short out first, with a twenty-five percent chance of reaching critical meltdown shortly thereafter. Unless the battle computer went first, being located in the chest region, where much of the heat concentrated, in such a case he had a thirty percent chance of data overload that would result in madness. Any of which would take less than a joor to happen. Having reached this conclusion, his battle computer turned its attention back to sorting through the data.
They needed to get out, and to do so while Prowl could still function.
“What’s the rush?”
Prowl shook his head at Sunstreaker’s question and continued moving, he wanted to get over to Sideswipe before they talked. “I do want to be sure he didn’t leave any unpleasant surprises in the repairs.“
A look of confusion passed over Sunstreaker’s face, but Prowl had to let the mech puzzle it out on his own. He couldn’t spare the processing power to attempt to clue the warrior in. Thankfully, despite their reputation, the twins possessed a keen perception, and he kept his vocalizer muted until they hunkered down over Sideswipe’s prone frame. “I thought he was on our side.”
Prowl ducked his head, peering critically at Sideswipe’s left side even as he switch the Energon cube to his left hand so he could turn the limp arm over to examine the repair done to the elbow. He didn’t only look at Sideswipe’s damage, but also the object in his right hand, even as his left hand reached down into the space between the red back and the dirty wall. A disruptor in his right hand and a box in his left. Salvation when Prowl had expected none; disruptors acted exactly as their name implied, they disrupted energy traveling from one place to another, such as the energy that powered the bars to their cell. He decided the disruptor could remain where it was in his hand. It shouldn’t interfere with the work he needed to do. “My decoding software says he is.”
Sunstreaker hissed between his dental plates, and Sideswipe optics flickered online.
Prowl slid a white container out from behind Sideswipe and into the space between his thighs. The standard paint on the medkit slid, slick and smooth, under his fingers and along his inner thighs, eliciting a sharp shiver from his engine. Prowl fingered the kit open, the knobs of his doorwings lifting in a futile effort to obscure the action from view of the cameras in the cell. Then he turned his attention on the now conscious Toughline, unable to help but note every dent and tear, even the amount of energon still oozing from his lines. He surreptitiously clasped the mech’s lower arm, unable to put words to how his lover’s state affected him.
Sideswipe groaned, turning his head away from Prowl’s scrutiny. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want your pity.”
“It is not pity.” Prowl reached into the medkit, sorting through the tools by touch alone: ratchet, adjustable wrench, screwdriver, hammer, tensors, clamps, sealant, caps, stim packs, sockets, mini-welder, splicer, flex strips. It should be enough to let Sideswipe remain on his feet under his own power (even if he won’t be able to walk), so that he and Sunstreaker could assist him out. Neither he nor Sunstreaker would be able to bodily carry Sideswipe for any length of time, if at all.
Sideswipe huffed, laughter and pained moan all in one. “Then what is it?”
Counterpunch had already done a considerable amount of work, the hole in his side no longer sparked, and only dribbled occasionally. “Still processing,” he answered distantly. Nine breem, until Counterpunch initiated whatever distraction he intended. “Run a diagnostic. Is your tank sealed?”
Sideswipe’s optics dimmed, and Prowl could make out the telltale whirs and clicks of his systems scanning themselves for damage.
Sunstreaker shifted next to Prowl, his shoulder brushing against the sparking wires sticking out of the tactician’s doorwings. He reached across Prowl’s thigh and snagged one of the containers of wire caps from the kit, hiding them in the loose fingers of his other hand without any prompting, and then he took the splicer into his free palm. “Why is an Autobot here?” He ducked his head, hiding his mouth behind Prowl’s shoulder.
Prowl pressed his lips together, weighing just how much he should tell them. “I am not free to divulge security matters even to Sideswipe, much less you.”
Sunstreaker touched Prowl’s ragged doorwings, fingers curling around exposed wires, but he stopped, optics flashing. “We’re fragging imprisoned in a Decepticon holding cell, and you’re quoting slagging security protocols at me?”
Prowl’s hand smacked against the golden chestplate, spasming from the warrior’s grip. The back of his hand scraped across the mech’s already ruined paint job. “A Decepticon holding cell is exactly where security protocols are needed the most, Sunstreaker.”
Sunstreaker clenched his jaw, his words muffled between his dental plates. “Slaggit, Prowl, you will tell me!”
Anger flashed through hypersensitive emotional relays and he said more than he meant to; “I can’t tell you, because I don’t know.” Even so the probabilities ran through Prowl’s processor. He did not know the precise details for Counterpunch’s presence in Halifax, but Prowl was not privy to the name of every Autobot operative working subterfuge throughout the Decepticons, for security reasons. The fewer he could name, the fewer he could give up in an interrogation should just such an occasion as this arise. He could calculate the strategy behind waiting to help them escape when the numbers were more to their advantage. Why act now?
“You don’t know?” Sunstreaker snarled.
Sideswipe shushed him, air rushing past Prowl’s plating from the red mech’s gesture. “Are you trying to get us caught?” Sideswipe attempted to glare at his brother, but Prowl didn’t think it worked so well from his prone position. The red warrior turned his dim optics to the Energon cube
Prowl had set on the ground.
Conclusion: Starscream intended to take Prowl to Megatron. This could not happen. Counterpunch had to act before the tactician would be out of reach, and it was too soon for the Autobots to have mounted a mission operation. Counterpunch had never acted to actually harm Prowl, the pain he’d inflicted had all been superficial sensor ghosts that had ultimately ended in Prowl being in a better state than before the Decepticon had worked on him.
But why would an Autobot infect another Autobot with such a torturous virus? The memory activated unbidden-invasion, the click of a plug into a socket-but Prowl shook it off with a few complicated calculations regarding the pattern of dirt and grime on the floor. He had no time to give in to that!
“We don’t have time to argue over this.” His chronometer, achingly aware of every passing microklik, told him a quarter of a breem had already passed. He internally winced, he hadn’t expected it to take so long to cross the short distance to reach Sideswipe. He needed to get to work.
Prowl reached into Sideswipe’s open wound, feeling around for the support struts around his engine block and fuel tank. He could feel the broken ones at the edges of the hole, and the ones against Sideswipe’s back.
He grabbed a few tensors from the medkit, his chronometer ticking down the ten breem until Counterpunch did whatever he planned. It took three breem to weld them in place. Prowl worked carefully, poking the miniwelder into the wound with murmured apologies as Sideswipe whined.
Sunstreaker worked quietly next to Prowl, slouched against the tactician to hide the tool he twisted into his arm. The splicer hissed, putting wires back into place. Prowl counted the wires, easily able to remember the number that had been torn from their moorings. At his current rate, it would take the three breem Prowl needed on Sideswipe for Sunstreaker to fix the wires in his arm.
Prowl pulled his hands out of Sideswipe’s torso, when a shock suddenly ran through him. Sunstreaker’s hand didn’t pull away, but remained steady on the tactician’s shredded doorwings.
“What are you doing?” the tactician asked, vocalizer strangled against a scream. He braced his hands on the floor, head hanging and panting as the unending surges rolled through his frame. Sunstreaker sliced the insulation off the sparking wires, cutting the wires themselves to and then capped the ends with the rubber pieces from the container. He hid his actions with his shoulders. His damaged arm hummed with power surges, but it rested against Prowl’s waist, catching the scrap that fell from the doorwings.
“We can’t go anywhere with you shooting sparks like something from the Pit,” he commented, but he tugged a little harsher on one wire. “Why don’t we have time to argue?”
Prowl clenched his jaw, fingers digging a groove into the floor. Static filled his optics, and he didn’t have the capacity to answer the question.
“Easy Sunny. Don’t you see he can’t answer when you’re doing that?” Sideswipe murmured.
Sunstreaker tugged again, nearly ripping the wiring out.
“Primus, Sunny!” A black hand shot out, accompanied with the complaint of a stressed frame. It jostled Sunstreaker’s hand, holding it still amongst the wires and circuitboards in Prowl’s panel. “I know you’re on edge, but he’s on our side, remember? Really. You don’t have to hurt him.”
Prowl couldn’t look up to see their expressions, and even if he could, he didn’t think he’d be able to see past the static across his vision. He could, however, make out the grumble of engines, the cough of Sideswipe’s and the sputtering growl of Sunstreaker’s. He could even track the decibel and the number of revolutions their engines turned.
“Plan,” Prowl finally spat. He shuddered in Sunstreaker’s grip, the golden fingers tightening in miniscule increments that sent shockwaves through his overtaxed sensory net.
“Finally,” Sunstreaker snorted and pulled his hand from Prowl’s doorwing, resuming the repairs he’d interrupted for his fit of suspicious temper. The change came as no relief to Prowl and even the reassuring presence of Sideswipe’s hand on his thigh did nothing to ease him.
Three and a half breem.
Sunstreaker finished patching up the ragged doorwings, and reached for the tactician’s dented thigh, lifting the bent panel up to look at the damaged hydraulics underneath. Prowl glanced at the inside of his leg, evaluating the size of the hole in the pump. Quietly Prowl handed Sunstreaker the small tube of sealant, already aware of the presence of the hole, even if not the size of it. Sunstreaker smoothed a thick amount of the sealant on, and then pounded out the dents with the small hammer. Every rap against the metal shot straight through Prowl, tactile sensors, audio, tracking and visual. The panel clicked back into place, and Prowl slouched against the wall in relief.
Prowl seized the warrior’s hand, stopping it before the fingers even brushed his bumper. “That’s enough. There’s no more time. Can you stand, Sideswipe?”
Two blue optics glowed at him.
“I can manage, just don’t drop me, I’m fragile.” The joke fell flat between the three of them.
“Get Sideswipe to his feet.” He acted on his own words, and reached over the red mech to brace his hands on the wall so he could shove himself to his feet. Then he leaned down and grabbed Sideswipe’s arm, but he couldn’t haul the two tons of Toughline up with his malfunctioning arms. Even the hydraulic in his thigh threatened to give, the pressure inside straining the seal.
Sunstreaker stood and helped pick Sideswipe up, letting his brother lean on him when his legs wobbled beneath him.
Prowl stepped under Sideswipe’s arm, aware of the ridges where paint had scraped off. His torn doorwings gave him false readings, knocking his gyroscopic calculations awry.
Sideswipe took an experimental step, vocalizer audibly clicking off as his frame creaked.
Sunstreaker’s gaze stayed on the floor in front of his brother’s feet. “We’re going to draw attention like this.” His foot reached out, knocking aside the small pile of scrap that used to be pieces of Prowl’s doorwings.
Something bounced out, oblong and gleaming a bright blue that stood out in the blue-grey cell. The three Autobots stared at the small device, and the tiny face of Primus painstakingly applied to its surface.
Prowl belatedly recalled the toe joints shoved under his side, and Counterpunch’s seemingly meaningless action of kicking at this pile of scrap. He’d recognized the guard with Counterpunch, as he’d recognized no other soldier in this unit. The agent’s contact? “Sunstreaker.”
The golden mech didn’t even need any further instructions. He set Sideswipe against Prowl, his movements slow and careful as he pulled his hands away from the unsteady pair.
Prowl leaned his shoulder against the wall, distributing Sideswipe’s full weight across his frame. He tried not to let himself contemplate the hand that came to rest on his bumper, or allow himself to be disturbed by the head that lay against his hood. He made himself concentrate instead on the sounds in the corridor, in particular listening for the clang of approaching mechs.
Sunstreaker took two steps and swept down to snatch up the small device.
Sideswipe made no move, no sound as Sunstreaker returned, and for a moment Prowl worried they had stressed his systems into stasis. Sunstreaker didn’t appear worried, but that observation did nothing to ease Prowl’s concern.
Sunstreaker took Sideswipe’s arm, throwing it over his shoulders and lifted him off Prowl.
Sideswipe remained so still.
Alarmed, Prowl dragged his hand up to Sideswipe’s chest, taking hold of the corner of his hood and and turning the mech.
Sideswipe jumped, slapping Prowl’s hand down. “Don’t, please.” He shook his head, optics dim, but online. “Whatcha got, Sunny?” His frame creaked as he tried to turn toward the device.
Sunstreaker huffed, taking Sideswipe’s arm, but his hand knocked into Prowl’s shoulder plate, scraping into the jagged edges of Prowl’s doorwings, his fingers shaped oddly.
Prowl reached back, hiding the gesture in an abortive attempt to wrap an arm around the red back. He scooped the drive out of the warrior’s fingers, and promptly pulled his hand back to wrap around Sideswipe’s arm. The drive slipped between two of his fingers and he leveraged it against Sideswipe’s upper strut and finally into one of the data ports located in his own arm.
It hit him like a punch, every line of code initiated and downloaded from the drive. His fingers tightened on Sideswipe’s arm, and he couldn’t move his legs to keep the three of them moving.
It was all he could do to even stay on his feet.
The energon bars hummed only three steps away, and Prowl couldn’t move.
Two breem.
Decryption software started up, piecing through the packets one by one. Architectural diagrams for the base filled his imaging software; a path tracked throughout the corridors, circumventing the tri-colored circles scattered throughout the base, one of which was located right next to their cell. Each circle had two numbers inside, one denoting a numerical sequence and the other a time that linked up with his chronometer and started counting down. The first in the numerical sequence started at two breem, the one next to their cell was marked as third and began began in five and three quarters breem.
Prowl froze, gasping to cool his overworked processor. He needed to move.
They needed to get out of here.
His fingers still wrapped around the drivestick, and he yanked it out. He didn’t have time to finish downloading the entire thing. The action didn’t stop his processor from continuing to decode the partial packets, and he had managed to retrieve a few complete packets.
One of the packets had a very simple message from… Jazz? It had been Jazz? No time to think of that. The message simply stated, ‘Run!’, echoing Prowl’s sentiment exactly.
Prowl managed to get a hand up and shove the drive under his bumper. He lifted his head up, trying to move his focus to the energon bars that still hummed at them. They had to get moving, if the Decepticons hadn’t noticed their odd behavior yet, they very soon would. He shuffled a step forward aware of the twin pair of optics on him
The packets continued to decode, unraveling information about the base and the Decepticons in it.
Prowl pushed the two warriors forward by expedient of pulling Sideswipe with him..
Then, among the packets partially downloaded, he decoded a random set of commands that made him stop again. He didn’t recognize the exact codes, but he knew the particular pattern.
An antivirus.
“Prowl is everything okay?”
Sunstreaker’s voice jolted Prowl out of his thoughts. He looked up at the bright optics of the golden warrior, “Yes, let’s get out of here.”
He had the antivirus, but he didn’t know if running the program would immobilize him, or how long it would take. Receiving the viral packet, and the accompanying worm had knocked him offline. He could not risk that now.
One breem.
The disruptor slipped between his fingers, his thumb stopping it from falling through. Still no sounds from the corridor; were the Decepticons even paying attention? He wouldn’t take the chance. He depressed the two buttons on the wide end of the disruptor and sliced through the energon bars with two quick cuts. The bars flickered, current crackling between them, and then died. The disruptor hummed in his hand, and he turned it over to glance at the power gauge. Counterpunch must have given him a disruptor with a full charge; that one use had only taken it down to eighty percent. He depressed the buttons again, turning the device off.
Sunstreaker glanced around the edge of the threshold, and then pulled the other two out into the hallway.
A disruptor could prove to be an effective weapon at least. It could knock even a mech of Vertigo’s size offline, possibly even permanently. He couldn’t access his subspace to store it, and he hadn’t installed any caddy spaces in his frame. He finally decided on hooking it just under his bumper, next to the drive stick. He would need to be careful in how he moved, it would not do to have the disruptor go off while on his person.
Sunstreaker had just begun to pull them toward the main corridor, when Prowl took in their surroundings. He accessed the diagram, “No.”
Sunstreaker halted, an aggravated sigh rushing from his frame. “What now?”
Prowl jerked his chin back toward the opposite hallway. “Our weapons would be stored back there.”
Sunstreaker’s optics lit up in interest. “Well, we can’t forget those.” He glanced at his brother, and then his optics slid to Prowl. “It’ll be faster if I go alone.”
Prowl listened intently for only a handful of astroseconds before he nodded. “Hurry.”
Sunstreaker carefully settled the two against the wall, tucked within the empty cell adjacent to theirs. Then he limped his way down the hallway.
Sideswipe leaned against Prowl, hand covering the opening in his side. He didn’t meet the tactician’s gaze, panting raggedly and staring at nothing, his hand clenched at Prowl’s waist.
Prowl counted the astroseconds that fractioned the remaining breem until the first of the explosives went off. The faintest eddies of air disturbed his sensors, puffs from Sideswipe’s vents. What could he say to comfort him?
Feet clanged on the floor.
Prowl lifted his head, alarm spiking through his systems. The sounds came from the main corridor. He wrapped his fingers around the disruptor, and worked it free. He peeked around the corner, optics on the entryway to the brig.
Sideswipe stiffened against Prowl, turning his head to stare expectantly though he couldn’t see.
Four Decepticons turned the corner, guns in hand, and expressions terrible.
Prowl had nowhere to go, no way to move without dropping Sideswipe. He didn’t want to hurt his soldier-his lover-if he could help it. He didn’t even have the time to pull them further within the cell. He pulled his head back, not wanting to catch their optics. The generators that powered the energon bars should mask their signals, especially when the both of them weren’t running at optimal capacity.
The Decepticons faltered, sensor sweeps radiating out from their group. Prowl ducked his head, pulling Sideswipe behind him. Sideswipe sagged against the wall, obviously straining to remain quiet.
They didn’t even taunt the Autobots to draw them out. The slow shuffle of feet reverberated through the brig. Prowl’s fingers covered the controls of the disruptor, and he shifted against the wall, trying to give himself a better angle to attack whatever mech came around the corner.
“Hey, where’d you come from?”
“Aw, slag…”
The Decepticons opened fire, peppering the air with red bolts of energy.
‘Poppoppoppoppoppop.’
Prowl exchanged a glance with Sideswipe. He’d recognize that sound anywhere. He also recognized the hiss that followed a small burst of air. He cut power to his optics, turning his head away reflexively as warmth washed over his plating.
Sideswipe flinched beside him, ducking his head into Prowl’s shoulder.
He activated his optics, monitoring the way light reflected off the far wall.
Decepticons screamed in the hallway.
“I can’t fragging see!”
“Where’d that fragger go, I’m gonna tear him apart circuit and servo.”
“My optics!”
The fourth said nothing, but shrieked in pain, making Prowl think that he’d been on the receiving end of the initial barrage of acid pellets.
The light died, and guns clattered to the ground. Prowl turned to see Sunstreaker stepping into sight. The golden mech’s optics flared, his lips drawn back in a sneering snarl, and he wielded Prowl’s acid rifle in one hand, and Sideswipe’s flare gun in the other. His own electron pulse rifle was tucked neatly into the crook of his elbow, waiting to be switched out.
“Deceptiscum, you’re gonna regret coming down here.” Sunstreaker didn’t spare a glance for his two comrades still hidden in the cell.
“What do you think you’re gonna do? Lock us in a cell?”
Sunstreaker’s snarl turned into a vicious grin. “Do I look slagging stupid? Get on your knees.”
“Autobot gonna play at being a Decepticon?” one of the guards sneered.
Sunstreaker took a step forward, and fired a burst. “Play? No. You slaggers wrecked my paint. After dodging all that acid rain, you slaggers completely ruined it!”
Sideswipe huffed a quiet laugh, “There’s my Sunny.”
Prowl sighed, and drew Sideswipe toward the cell entry. He leaned around the corner, taking in the Decepticons kneeling in the hallway, and the guns against the wall. One lay just within reach.
He knelt, mindful of the mech leaning against him, to pick it up. “Sunstreaker, focus.”
Quarter of a breem.
Sunstreaker glanced toward Prowl. “I’m not letting them go, Prowl. Not after what they’ve done me. To Sideswipe.” He paused, switching out the flare gun for his pulse rifle. “Even to you.”
Prowl turned the Decepticon gun over in his hands. “I don’t intend you to. We don’t have much time, don’t draw it out.” He turned the weapon on the Decepticons and opened fire.
Sunstreaker’s smiled in malicious glee before peppering the Decepticons with acid and electron bursts.
With the guards taken care of, Sunstreaker wasted no more time in retrieving his brother. Prowl pulled out the power cells, discarding the guns as useless trash. He only took three. They had no room to carry more than they needed; no access to their subspace to store extra gear.
Time was up.
The floor shook beneath their feet.
Sunstreaker stumbled against the wall, but he didn’t let Sideswipe fall. Prowl widened his stance, clutching the three cells in his hand. Each vibration went straight through him, slowing him down with sound and motion, until the world revolved frame after much delayed frame. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe jumped over to him, Sunstreaker’s hand appearing in his vision suddenly to drag him up. When had he fallen?
The diagram of the base stayed in Prowl’s HUD. They were still too close to the explosion next to the brig, and they still had the explosion before that to deal with in a breem.
Two breem.
Processor caught up with sensors and Prowl tucked the disruptor back into the bottom of his bumper, and held out a hand to Sunstreaker. “My rifle please.”
Sunstreaker flipped the weapon over, fingers wrapped around the muzzle of the gun to present it butt first.
Prowl accepted it, checking the charge before exchanging the power cell.
“Think I can get mine back?” Sideswipe moaned, fingers flicking at nothing.
Sunstreaker hesitated, the flare gun dangling uselessly from the hand around his brother’s arm. Uncertainty furrowed his brow, and turned his mouth down.
Prowl took Sideswipe’s other arm, taking the weight with his good leg. “Give him the gun and let’s get out of here.”
Another moment of hesitation and Sunstreaker slid his hand down his brother’s arm, handing him the gun.
Sideswipe’s fingers curled around the holster of the gun, and he sighed in relief.
The tactician shifted his grip on his lover’s arm, and his fingers on his gun. “Move.”
Sunstreaker nodded once, and hitched Sideswipe a little higher. Then they made their way out of the brig.
~*~*~*~*~
Part 2