Project Reset - The Prequel (8/9)
I was debating whether to make this one really long last chapter, or break it in two, but the very last bits still have some stubborn holes and things what need figuring out, so rather than making folks wait until every last figuring gets figured, I've broken it into two chapters. Very last chapter will therefore be shorter-ish, barring the holes snowballing.
LJ links to:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Bonus Snippets
Title: Project Reset - The Prequel (8/9)
Characters: Barricade, First Aid, Protectobots, hatchlings
Universe: movie-verse, post "Dark of the Moon" AU Heavily inspired by
niyazi_a's fic, Chance, and also this bit of Starscreamy awesomeness: Desert
Rating: K+
Word Count: 5178 words
Warnings and Notes: Brief, vague references to mpreg, liberty taken with characterizations for my own nefarious plans.
Summary: The hatchlings learn a new game, Barricade dithers and is again in grave danger of huggings, and the other Autobots have been very busy.
The air seemed to spark with energy long after Galvatron, Optimus, and Thundercracker left, despite the local humidity in the atmosphere. Barricade fancied he could still see bits of it, crackling over his armor, outlining the edges of the trees, although his other sensors insisted nothing was there.
The hatchlings were still subdued, most of them beginning to doze off now against his armor. Blades, Hot Spot, and Groove stayed on guard outside, while Streetwise, First Aid, and Barricade took the hatchlings back into the barn, where they burrowed willingly into their nest. Barricade tucked the still-snoozing Frenzy in among them as well. He was half-tempted to join them, as he doubted the peace and quiet would last for long, but his thoughts were still too restless to allow him to cycle down into recharge.
A crunch of gravel and sputtering growl of a decidedly non-Cybertronian engine brought Barricade back to high alert. First Aid and Streetwise were alert and listening as well, but nothing in their poses indicated alarm.
“Mrs. Anderson,” Streetwise enlightened him. “She owns this barn, and the cows. We’ve been trying to keep a low profile but with Blades and all five of us going in and out it’s been tricky, and Galvatron was pretty hard to miss, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t worry, Hot Spot will talk to her,” First Aid said. Barricade growled a little at the implication that he would be frightened of a single fleshy, then went to the door and cracked it open. The first glimmers of dawn were lightening the horizon. A battered pickup was parked in the driveway, and Hot Spot was crouched low on one knee to address a small, roundish human, the wrinkled outer dermis and fuzz of curly white hair indicating that she was an elder of her pathetically short-lived species, although Barricade doubted she’d seen even a full vorn of existence.
“That mama robot what’s been holed up in the barn with all those little ‘uns?” The human responded to whatever Hot Spot had said. “I was a bit worrit when I saw her messin’ around with the cows, but as long as she didn’t do no harm I’d no beef with her.”
Hot Spot smiled his easy-going smile. “We appreciate your discretion, ma’am, as well as the use of your barn. How did you know they were younglings of our race? I know Wheelie and Brains and some of our smaller frame-types are widely known.”
“Call me Phyllis, sweetheart,” she said patting Hot Spot familiarly on his leg. “I brought up six little ‘uns of my own. I know a mama with babies when I see ‘em. You, now, you remind me of my oldest boy, Terry, for all yer a big ass robot man.”
Hot Spot chuckled and shook his head, and the human cackled with laughter, her wrinkled face crinkling even further with creases as she did.
“Well now, you’re all welcome to hole up in that beat up ol’ barn fer long’s you need to, so long as there’s not gonna be no more giant aeroplanes tromping ‘round in my fields. My little pea-shooter wouldna done much good anyhow, so good thing ya’ll are friends, dearie.” The human laughed her creaky cackle again and patted the long stick-like object she was holding, and Barricade repressed a snort, more of admiration than scorn. She would have gone up against Galvatron armed only with a puny human-scale rifle? Ball bearings of titanium, some of these fleshies. Decepticons had learned that the hard way.
“We are deeply grateful, Phyllis, thank you,” Hot Spot said warmly. “We will compensate you for any trouble of course, but we’ll probably be relocating soon, now that attention has been drawn here. Not all humans are as understanding as you, and like your own our young ones are very vulnerable.”
“Compensation, eh?” The human straightened, giving Hot Spot as sly, impish look. “Well I won’t say a peep ‘bout your little ‘uns, regardless, but if that handsome Autobot commander of yours were to come by and let me give him a big ol’ peck on his cheek, I’d count any debts paid.”
Hot Spot threw his helm back and gave a hearty laugh. “I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet you.”
Streetwise was chuckling quietly somewhere behind Barricade. “Optimus. No species can resist him. It must be those legs,” he whispered.
First Aid nodded sagely. “Ratchet says it’s the aft,” he whispered back. Barricade wondered a little wildly if the human was going to offer to carry Optimus’ offspring, as well. She had known he and the hatchlings were here, and had kept it secret, all this time. It didn’t make sense. The human, Phyllis, spoke a little longer with Hot Spot, Blades, and Groove, and then left in her rickety vehicle.
“Knows a mama with babies when she sees one,” he murmured. And had raised several of her own. Barricade felt almost...regretful he hadn’t gone out and spoken to her. He turned back to see Streetwise and First Aid watching him and shrugged. “What? I’ve been called worse.”
Hot Spot ducked his head into the barn. “I got a kiss, too,” he informed them, grinning.
Frenzy was awake and chattering animatedly to the hatchlings, who were all still in recharge but that didn’t seem to make any difference to Frenzy. Barricade managed to get his attention long enough to break the news about Soundwave and the other symbionts. Frenzy didn’t seem to react at all, nodding once and then going on to spout some nonsense about mutant ninja turtles and whether Optimus Prime would win in a battle with a sentient rat, but shortly thereafter when Barricade turned to look for him, he had disappeared from the barn.
Groove let them know where he was, before they could worry too much. Frenzy spent the morning perched up in the top branches of the giant sycamore tree at the edge of the cow pasture, beyond the reach of even Hot Spot’s ladder (although not Defensor, but Defensor would probably have crunched through most of the tree to get to Frenzy, and Frenzy could outmaneuver him anyway.) Barricade alternated between the barn and watching the small silver form so uncharacteristically still, but once the hatchlings woke up and bumbled and bobbled their way out of the barn for their late-morning rations, Frenzy scampered down the tree to help feed them, as spastic and irrepressible as usual, and Barricade finally gave up trying to pry any sort of coherent response from him. He seemed happy enough, regaling the hatchlings with tales of some “Warrior Goddess” who apparently came to visit Maggie and Glen on a regular basis and bestow Wheelie and Brains with head scritches.
This day was a repeat of the previous (sans the exciting Galvatron conclusion), with all fourteen of the hatchlings fully awake from their molt cycle this time. They said hello to the cows, climbed all over Barricade and the Protectobots as they tried out new shapes and colors and words, and tumbled around with Frenzy and one another. Starshine, colored a curious mixture of Hot Spot-blue and grass-green, found his way to the top of Barricade’s helm.
“Up!” he squeaked, waving his little talons at the sky. “Up up up!“
Barricade looked around thoughtfully. Everyone else was occupied elsewhere. He reached up and nudged Starshine onto his hand, bringing the hatchling back down to chest level. “Up, hm?”
Starshine clattered his mandibles and beeped at him. Barricade jiggled Starshine around until his talons were all detached, and then carefully tossed the hatchling a few centispans into the air. Starshine gave a high-pitched squeal of delight and folded himself over, butting his rounded little helm against Barricade’s hands, aft in the air.
“Up more up up up yes!!!”
He tossed the hatchling a little higher this time. Starshine buzzed and giggled and squealed.
“UP! More up!”
Escape Velocity, Trajectory, and Noggin were all scaling his legs now, too, beeping with excitement. Oh slag. What had he started? “Uh…that’s enough for now.”
The three hatchlings joined Starshine, clinging to Barricade’s arms and clamoring to be tossed. Blades came over, shaking his head and smirking.
“Uh oh, now you’ve done it. I think there may be some fliers in this bunch.” Barricade, Jr. wore a matching smirk on Blades’ shoulder, and Bravespark was flattened and camouflaged against one side of his helm, giving Blades an oddly lumpy, lopsided appearance.
“Now you’ve done it,” Barricade, Jr. echoed, shaking his head sadly. He clambered down Blades’ arm and onto Barricade, joining the other hatchlings. “Up!” he demanded.
“Up…phleez?” Starshine couldn’t quite manage the harmonics of the fourth-level indicator of a courteous request in Cybertronian, but his attempt was reasonably close. The hatchling was looking at him mournfully, talons wrapped around his fingers. Gah! How could he resist that face? The little slagger had been taking lessons from First Aid. Barricade sighed.
“I can’t toss you all at once,” he said sternly. “One at a time. Got it?” The hatchlings meeped up at him hopefully. Adorably. Fraaag, he was so doomed. He was going to be tossing hatchlings until the universe ran out of stars.
They worked out a system of sorts, as the hatchlings (and Frenzy, who certainly wasn’t going to be left out of something that involved such delightful screeching mayhem) scrambled from ‘bot to ‘bot for their turn to be tossed. Noggin failed to realize he had to let go with his talons to become airborne, but didn’t seem to notice he was only riding hands up and down, and Gasket tried to launch himself from Hot Spot’s shoulder before he could be tossed, at which point Barricade discovered his new retractable octo-tentacle gripper was quite handy, actually. Ducky and Bravespark were the only ones that opted out, content to watch and giggle from various helm perches, and then it was time for an energon break for everyone. All that tossing apparently had worked up quite an appetite, although Barricade was relieved to see that the first ones to emerge seemed to be tapering off somewhat in the amount of fuel they required. Thirty-one newsparks (or sort of newsparks, anyway) that Galvatron was carrying. Barricade couldn’t even imagine.
“How is it going? Is it going to…take long?” he worked up courage to ask First Aid. He had some decisions to make. He needed to know how long he had.
First Aid’s expression was worried as he helped four of the hatchlings arrange their pile of sticks they’d been collecting. They seemed to want to build a standing roof, an advancement from their first instar efforts of dragging whatever detritus they could find into simple nest, but were having trouble keeping their walls propped up. (Noggin had gotten his head stuck in a forked branch, of course, and had to be extracted).
“It looks like Galvatron has all the necessary spawning sequences in place, and Ratchet says maybe three or four weeks before things get critical, even taking in to account the Allspark. Galvatron got here just in time. It depends on how quickly we can extract and refine enough energon, but so far at least two engineering firms have agreed to help and ten others are still looking over the contracts, so that’s promising.” First Aid shook his head. “Poor Ratchet. He’s had so much to bear, losing Ironhide, trying to keep Optimus sane and alive, and then me…and now all of this. It’s a good thing, but still…I just wish I could help him more.”
“Have you decided? What you want to do?” Groove asked tentatively, folding himself down next to the stick pile as he cuddled three more hatchlings against his chestplates.
“I don’t know,” Barricade admitted. “To see Cybertron again…” He trailed off, trying and failing to imagine himself there, at Galvatron’s side, rebuilding the future. “I would be a fool to say no, but...” The hatchlings. Barricade watched them, squeaking in excitement as they discovered they could wedge the sticks into Groove’s leg armor. Alive, growing, thriving, against all odds, despite all of his ignorance and mistakes along the way. They didn’t need him anymore. They’d be better off without him. And why did it feel like he was trying way too hard to convince himself of something that should be patently obvious?
“It is not any easy choice,” First Aid said softly, getting up to check over the regenerating patches of Barricade’s outer armor and patting Fulcrum and Toolkit, perched on Barricade’s shoulders, along the way. “I hope you stay, of course, but if you do go to Cybertron I’d feel better if there were time to give you a complete overhaul. The major issues are repaired, but some of those deeper rust infections are probably chronic without a full systems replacement.” He tapped Barricade’s chestplates gently. “Promise me you’ll not neglect yourself? I can set you up with a maintenance schedule that should keep you in good working order and head off any problems before they can get out of hand again.”
Slag. First Aid had his earnest, hopeful look turned up high enough to demolish all his hard-won Decepticon pride. Barricade mumbled something about of course he would take care of himself, and take all his supplements and update his anti-virals and not work too hard…he managed to stop himself before he promised to scrub behind his fenders and floss between his dental components as well.
“Speaking of neglecting yourself,” Hot Spot said, coming from behind to wrap First Aid in an affectionate headlock, “when was the last time you got away from this barn, either of you?”
First Aid leaned his helm back to look up at his larger brother. “Um…”
“Uh huh, yeah. Physician, take thy own advice, for once in your life. Why don’t you show Barricade the surprise? We’ve got things under control here.”
“Oh, well, but…”
Hot Spot rumbled his engines in a mock-threatening growl and pretended to wrestle First Aid to the ground, using one leg to lift and flip him over. Fulcrum and Toolkit made worried little tweeps next to Barricade’s audios.
“I yield, I yield,” First Aid gasped, between giggles, pinned under his brother.
“Good,” Hot Spot grinned down at him, bumping their forehelms together, then looking up at the two hatchlings who were watching the proceedings with wide optics. “Oh no,” Hot Spot said, widening his own optics comically. “I sure hope the hatchlings don’t come and save you!”
Fulcrum and Toolkit blinked down at him, making puzzled query sounds. “Get him,” Barricade said, nudging them. “Go get Hot Spot.”
They tumbled and scrambled down his armor. “Thundercats, ho!” Toolkit squeaked, as they pounced on Hot Spot, who rolled on his back, laughing and flailing dramatically as he was tackled and gnawed upon. Thundercats, what? Barricade remembered that he had internet access again and looked it up. Good grief. Maybe they should reconsider letting Frenzy watch the hatchlings.
Blades hooked hands under First Aid and lifted him to his feet, while Bravespark, Ducky, and Leeway scrambled down from his armor to pile on Hot Spot. The rest of the hatchlings abandoned their stick project to join in.
“We’ve got plenty of rations, and if we run into any problems I’ll snatch you back before you can say ‘Unicron’s Balls.’ Quick, get out of here while they’re distracted!” Blades made shooing motions at the both of them, while Hot Spot continued to flail and yell for help, much to the glee of his small assailants.
“Blades, we’re not going to just disappear on them,” First Aid said reprovingly.
“Great, we’ll get to watch them all whimpering and trying to follow you down the driveway.”
“No, I think they’ll be ok,” Barricade said, crouching down to the wriggling hatchlings as Hot Spot stilled, still huffing with laughter. “I had to leave them behind a lot, before. Hey. Pit spawns.” He whistled air sharply through his vents to get their attention. “I’m going out. You lie low, be good for Hot Spot, ok?”
They blinked up at him for a moment. A few of them made rude little raspberries they’d probably also picked up from Frenzy and then went back to gnawing on Hot Spot, seeming unconcerned except for Fulcrum, who was giving him a worried look. “I’ll be back, I promise,” he said, rubbing the hatchling gently on the helm. He felt like the scum from the bottom of a retrorat den, but he’d have to leave them behind eventually, wouldn’t he? And this was only for a little while.
“I’ll watchem all for ya, boss,” Frenzy said, jumping off of Streetwise to land on Barricade’s face and then dropping down to help pin Hot Spot.
Barricade gave Fulcrum one last pat and then stood and faced First Aid. “Lead the way,” he said.
They passed a police cruiser guarding the end of the road at the intersection that that led to the barn. Barricade felt a chill of apprehension, but the vehicle came up as completely non-Cybertronian to his scans. First Aid flashed his headlights and the human officer inside gave them a friendly wave and smile as they passed. It was similar to their first encounter, First Aid trundling along country roads while Barricade followed behind, with the difference, of course, that First Aid was now friend rather than prisoner (or bait for unwitting Decepticons, depending on interpretation).
They traveled north, First Aid offering occasional commentary on the humans or schools or hospitals he knew along the way and sticking dutifully to the local speed limits. They were heading to the same Autobot base he had stalked so desperately for a medic, he realized after awhile, although some of the roads First Aid chose to take were different.
They reached their destination just past sunset, taking a final turn that veered slightly west of the base. They passed through several layers of what appeared to be rusted and inferior human fences and security, but were, as First Aid informed him, somewhat more than that. The last was an impressive force field which let them through after First Aid chirped a passcode to it, sharing the sequence with Barricade. It made all of Barricade’s diodes vibrate as they passed through it. After the force field they passed a wide grassy field, dotted with trees, and then another dark form loomed ahead, the outline somehow familiar. First Aid pulled up to a ramp and transformed and Barricade did likewise.
“That’s…the Retribution.” One of the two smaller shuttle units from the Nemesis. It had long been deemed too damaged to be useable for much more than scrap and storage, he remembered.
“She’s not terribly spaceworthy anymore, poor old dear,” First Aid patted the side of the craft fondly. Was there anything he didn’t pat fondly? Barricade couldn’t bring any to mind. “We found her when we stopped by the Nemesis, on our way in to Earth. No one had even made an attempt to repair her and…well, I couldn’t bear to leave her behind.”
Barricade was somehow not surprised that First Aid’s tendency to care for and repair damages extended to space shuttles, as well as other Cybertronians, squishy humans, and hatchlings. Further than that even, maybe. A healer Prime. It was high time for one, perhaps.
“Go ahead, check her out.” First Aid smiled and tilted his helm towards the entrance. Panels along the hatchway lit up as Barricade entered. Despite the battered exterior, the interior was spotless and gleaming. A wide entry bay and docking area, approximately the size of the barn. Cargo storage areas to the left, one of which had been converted into a comfortable washrack facility, with several shallow, sturdy wash tubs along one side. Hatchling sized, inscribed with glyphs telling the legend of the first Seekers to win the skies of Vos. First Aid tried one of the cleanser taps, smiling.
“I’ve only seen the scans of the construction they’ve been sending me. This is the first time I’ve seen it in person,” he explained. “We found plans on the Nemesis that Starscream had hidden away. Grapple, Ratchet, Optimus, and Sideswipe have been implementing them over the last month, based on Starscream’s designs and some of the things they developed for us when we were small. Whatever the Fallen was planning, it looks like Starscream, at least, meant for the hatchlings to mature normally.”
Barricade felt a wave of sadness. All the things he hadn’t known about Starscream, things the jet had never hinted. How much would hatchling Starscream remember? Would he still be himself at all? First Aid had admitted that there was no knowing, no predicting how the returned sparks would develop, although their sparkwaves scanned true to the records of each mech or femme. Spark transfers to new frames had once been a fairly routine procedure, but how spark memory would work in the hatchlings returned from the Allspark remained a mysterious unknown.
There was more to the revamped Retribution, much more. Learning and exploration areas inscribed with more ancient tales and legends of Cybertron, filled with places for the hatchlings to climb, build, create, make messes, download data, refuel and recharge. A solid looking remote-solar energon generator (designated “Noodles“ according to the glyphs on the side) and small but fully stocked medical nook. Scattered around there were comfortable berths and couches for various sized mechs to relax, a Cybertronian-sized human entertainment center (the result of a collaboration between Sideswipe and a human named Miles, First Aid said) as well as several private living quarters and empty rooms in the back, ready to be put to whatever purpose might be needed. Out the back end of the shuttle there was a large landing strip for seeker frames as well as more climbing and exploration structures for the hatchlings, very much like the playgrounds humans made for their own offspring, although clearly designed with hatchling proportions and talons in mind. Also several muddy ditches for hatchlings to get filthy in, plenty of rocks, trees, grasshoppers, and sticks, and a good-sized pond for Ducky to fall in to. And was that an old barn, on the other side? Just like…home.
“From the air all of this looks like a parking lot for rusted, out-of-service aircraft, although that probably won’t fool everyone once there’s increased traffic in and out. Still, you can’t ask for anyone better than Red Alert for security, and we’ve got very good relations with the local humans. We hope we won’t have to keep them isolated for too long, though. It’s a wonderful planet, and we want the hatchlings to get to know all of it…but, one thing at a time, I suppose. Does it meet with your approval?” First Aid sounded like he really wanted to know the answer.
“It’s a little primitive, but the hatchlings are used to living rough,” Barricade tried to joke. Holy slag. They’d really gone all out. Where had they found the time, let alone the materials? It was almost unnervingly comfortable, enough of the familiar Decepticon formatting to the ship left intact for him to feel immediately at ease, but softened by Autobot touches like the couches and washracks. And sweet Primus the hatchlings would go nuts. They’d adore it.
“If I leave, how will it…will they be ok?” Barricade asked, his spark twisting inside with an emotion he couldn’t quite find a name for. The hatchling quarters were so wonderful, so perfect. They were everything he couldn’t have hoped to give them, not in a thousand vorns.
First Aid sighed. “It will be hard on them, to see you go. They’ve been through so much, and you’ve been their one source of stability. I don’t want you to feel trapped, though, Barricade, if you truly feel this is not your place. We will love them, care for them, protect them with our very sparks. They are very young, but…we will make sure they remember you. They will understand. Optimus had to leave us, too, for most of the time we were small. And communication forward to Cybertron is much easier than communication back. We’ll be able to send you updates.”
“But you want me to stay. Why?” Barricade asked bluntly.
“You still don’t believe us, do you, about how brilliantly you’ve done,” First Aid said, looking at him a little sadly. “Cybertron needs you, yes, but so does Earth. So do they.”
“I will fail them,” Barricade said. It was all impossible. He could not tell anymore which way his spark was tugging him. “I’m not qualified, I can’t be what they’ll need me to be.” Someone with more wisdom, with more patience, who could teach them how to…be. There had been a time, long ago, when he had believed in things, thought of things beyond mere survival, but now…how could he guide them, hampered and twisted by the past as he was? He was as clueless as a freshly kindled newspark himself, in this strange new reality.
First Aid’s hand was warm on his shoulder. “You will fail them, we will fail them, they will fail us, but it will all be ok. We all have our flaws, Barricade.
Barricade snorted at that. “Right. You’ve got flaws.” Kid was an honest-to-fragging-goodness messenger of Primus and he thought he had flaws.
“I have barely lived. My spark has barely been tested, not as you, and so many others have been.” First Aid shook his head. “We will hurt one another terribly, we will shatter and mend a thousand times, over and over until we learn at last to love all the more deeply for it. Your imperfections and your scars, we need those as much as your determination and tenacity, your suspicions and skepticism, the tender core to your spark that you will never admit.” Barricade’s helm came up indignantly at that, and First Aid’s optics brightened slightly in his own gentle brand of challenge, daring him to deny it.
“I don’t know. I just…I don’t know,” Barricade said at last, clenching his fists, looking at Aid almost despairingly. “What should I do?” First Aid was a Prime, wasn’t he? Weren’t they supposed to have all the answers?
First Aid’s optic ridges knit in concern. “I don’t know either, Barricade. I can’t tell you what to choose, but…Perceptor told us something once, when we were hatchlings. Maybe it will help.”
“Does it have equations?” Barricade asked apprehensively. He had a halfway decent science background, but he’d seen some reports written by Perceptor.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” First Aid laughed, sitting down on one of the sturdier climbing bars to look up at Barricade. “Luckily the details aren’t important. Perceptor told us he’d spent most of his Academy time tracing the essential math of the universe, to the underpinnings that weave the fabric of space-time together. He failed, of course. No one has ever been able to find the one unifying equation, not even Perceptor, but he claimed he found the echo of it, that he could draw some conclusions based on the shape of the answer he could not find.”
Barricade frowned. He really didn’t see what Perceptor’s Academy dissertation had to do with him. “According to all the evidence,” First Aid continued, “it seems to be written into the fundamental mathematics of the universe that not only is happiness possible, it is inevitable. So you see, whatever you choose, you really can’t go wrong.”
Barricade blinked at First Aid a moment, absorbing that, and then let out a short bark of laughter. “That is…really not helpful at all.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” First Aid said, looking a little deflated. “Would you like to talk to Optimus instead?” he added hopefully.
“No, that’s all right,” Barricade said quickly. He was sure Optimus was pretty occupied, with Galvatron, and the spawning and all. He wanted to stay as far away from that business as possible. Away. Away from everything and everyone. Maybe then he could think. Or maybe he was just a coward, running away because he was too afraid to choose.
“Am I a prisoner?” he asked.
First Aid’s visor flickered in surprise at the question. “Of course not! If anything, I’m still your prisoner, you know. You never released me,” he said with a hint of a smile which faded as he studied Barricade. “It’s hard to think, isn’t it, when taking care of hatchlings,” he said with unsettling perception. “They are rather all-consuming of any other thought processes.”
“It wouldn’t be for long, just…a day….”
“As long as you need,” First Aid said firmly, standing. “We’ll miss you, but we’ll manage. Hoist is due to arrive in a few days, and Thundercracker’s going to need training if he wants to help with the new clutch, so we’ve got plenty of reinforcements. Hang on a klik…” First Aid sent a transmission, and shortly afterward Barricade’s spark froze in its casing as he was pinged by Prowl.
Barricade. You are free to travel the entirety of this planet with the exception of the following restricted or sensitive facilities: a list of locations followed. If you are in need of fuel or funds you may access the following resources and credit account: another list, locations of assorted human-Cybertronian bases and facilities now scattered over all seven continents, pass codes giving him access to a generous chunk of the standard local human currency, with instructions for conversion to the several other human currency formats on the planet. Our presence on this planet is no longer secret. You may reveal yourself at your own discretion; however, you will kindly refrain from damaging human-Cybertronian relations as detailed in the attached document. If you hurt anyone I will hunt you down. If anyone hurts you, I will hunt them down. Understood?
Understood! Sir!
“There,” First Aid said, his fingers gentle on Barricade’s arm again, as Barricade’s engine gradually stopped racing, running last scans to make sure everything was in order. He deactivated the medical monitoring access link. “All set.”
Barricade deactivated the reciprocal link, noticing as he did so that First Aid’s hands were no longer sending him pain signals, but the medic was shivering slightly, all over, in the grip of some strong emotion that the fading link couldn’t identify. Guilt assailed him. When had the kid last gotten a break himself?
First Aid squinted another smile at him, somehow catching the thought, and this time, in that smile, Barricade could totally see the Prime-thing. Power both implacable and infinitely yielding, kindness beyond all logic and reason, compassion deeper than time. It was kind of freaking him out. First Aid’s arms made a small movement as if to reach for Barricade and then stilled against his sides. “I’m ok. It’s all ok. Go.” Barricade turned abruptly to leave. He suspected if he lingered any longer he might end up hugged.
“Um. Thank you,” he said, without turning around. “For everything.” He transformed and drove away, picking a road at random.
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/91893.html. Please comment wherever you wish.
LJ links to:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Bonus Snippets
Title: Project Reset - The Prequel (8/9)
Characters: Barricade, First Aid, Protectobots, hatchlings
Universe: movie-verse, post "Dark of the Moon" AU Heavily inspired by
niyazi_a's fic, Chance, and also this bit of Starscreamy awesomeness: Desert
Rating: K+
Word Count: 5178 words
Warnings and Notes: Brief, vague references to mpreg, liberty taken with characterizations for my own nefarious plans.
Summary: The hatchlings learn a new game, Barricade dithers and is again in grave danger of huggings, and the other Autobots have been very busy.
The air seemed to spark with energy long after Galvatron, Optimus, and Thundercracker left, despite the local humidity in the atmosphere. Barricade fancied he could still see bits of it, crackling over his armor, outlining the edges of the trees, although his other sensors insisted nothing was there.
The hatchlings were still subdued, most of them beginning to doze off now against his armor. Blades, Hot Spot, and Groove stayed on guard outside, while Streetwise, First Aid, and Barricade took the hatchlings back into the barn, where they burrowed willingly into their nest. Barricade tucked the still-snoozing Frenzy in among them as well. He was half-tempted to join them, as he doubted the peace and quiet would last for long, but his thoughts were still too restless to allow him to cycle down into recharge.
A crunch of gravel and sputtering growl of a decidedly non-Cybertronian engine brought Barricade back to high alert. First Aid and Streetwise were alert and listening as well, but nothing in their poses indicated alarm.
“Mrs. Anderson,” Streetwise enlightened him. “She owns this barn, and the cows. We’ve been trying to keep a low profile but with Blades and all five of us going in and out it’s been tricky, and Galvatron was pretty hard to miss, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t worry, Hot Spot will talk to her,” First Aid said. Barricade growled a little at the implication that he would be frightened of a single fleshy, then went to the door and cracked it open. The first glimmers of dawn were lightening the horizon. A battered pickup was parked in the driveway, and Hot Spot was crouched low on one knee to address a small, roundish human, the wrinkled outer dermis and fuzz of curly white hair indicating that she was an elder of her pathetically short-lived species, although Barricade doubted she’d seen even a full vorn of existence.
“That mama robot what’s been holed up in the barn with all those little ‘uns?” The human responded to whatever Hot Spot had said. “I was a bit worrit when I saw her messin’ around with the cows, but as long as she didn’t do no harm I’d no beef with her.”
Hot Spot smiled his easy-going smile. “We appreciate your discretion, ma’am, as well as the use of your barn. How did you know they were younglings of our race? I know Wheelie and Brains and some of our smaller frame-types are widely known.”
“Call me Phyllis, sweetheart,” she said patting Hot Spot familiarly on his leg. “I brought up six little ‘uns of my own. I know a mama with babies when I see ‘em. You, now, you remind me of my oldest boy, Terry, for all yer a big ass robot man.”
Hot Spot chuckled and shook his head, and the human cackled with laughter, her wrinkled face crinkling even further with creases as she did.
“Well now, you’re all welcome to hole up in that beat up ol’ barn fer long’s you need to, so long as there’s not gonna be no more giant aeroplanes tromping ‘round in my fields. My little pea-shooter wouldna done much good anyhow, so good thing ya’ll are friends, dearie.” The human laughed her creaky cackle again and patted the long stick-like object she was holding, and Barricade repressed a snort, more of admiration than scorn. She would have gone up against Galvatron armed only with a puny human-scale rifle? Ball bearings of titanium, some of these fleshies. Decepticons had learned that the hard way.
“We are deeply grateful, Phyllis, thank you,” Hot Spot said warmly. “We will compensate you for any trouble of course, but we’ll probably be relocating soon, now that attention has been drawn here. Not all humans are as understanding as you, and like your own our young ones are very vulnerable.”
“Compensation, eh?” The human straightened, giving Hot Spot as sly, impish look. “Well I won’t say a peep ‘bout your little ‘uns, regardless, but if that handsome Autobot commander of yours were to come by and let me give him a big ol’ peck on his cheek, I’d count any debts paid.”
Hot Spot threw his helm back and gave a hearty laugh. “I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet you.”
Streetwise was chuckling quietly somewhere behind Barricade. “Optimus. No species can resist him. It must be those legs,” he whispered.
First Aid nodded sagely. “Ratchet says it’s the aft,” he whispered back. Barricade wondered a little wildly if the human was going to offer to carry Optimus’ offspring, as well. She had known he and the hatchlings were here, and had kept it secret, all this time. It didn’t make sense. The human, Phyllis, spoke a little longer with Hot Spot, Blades, and Groove, and then left in her rickety vehicle.
“Knows a mama with babies when she sees one,” he murmured. And had raised several of her own. Barricade felt almost...regretful he hadn’t gone out and spoken to her. He turned back to see Streetwise and First Aid watching him and shrugged. “What? I’ve been called worse.”
Hot Spot ducked his head into the barn. “I got a kiss, too,” he informed them, grinning.
Frenzy was awake and chattering animatedly to the hatchlings, who were all still in recharge but that didn’t seem to make any difference to Frenzy. Barricade managed to get his attention long enough to break the news about Soundwave and the other symbionts. Frenzy didn’t seem to react at all, nodding once and then going on to spout some nonsense about mutant ninja turtles and whether Optimus Prime would win in a battle with a sentient rat, but shortly thereafter when Barricade turned to look for him, he had disappeared from the barn.
Groove let them know where he was, before they could worry too much. Frenzy spent the morning perched up in the top branches of the giant sycamore tree at the edge of the cow pasture, beyond the reach of even Hot Spot’s ladder (although not Defensor, but Defensor would probably have crunched through most of the tree to get to Frenzy, and Frenzy could outmaneuver him anyway.) Barricade alternated between the barn and watching the small silver form so uncharacteristically still, but once the hatchlings woke up and bumbled and bobbled their way out of the barn for their late-morning rations, Frenzy scampered down the tree to help feed them, as spastic and irrepressible as usual, and Barricade finally gave up trying to pry any sort of coherent response from him. He seemed happy enough, regaling the hatchlings with tales of some “Warrior Goddess” who apparently came to visit Maggie and Glen on a regular basis and bestow Wheelie and Brains with head scritches.
This day was a repeat of the previous (sans the exciting Galvatron conclusion), with all fourteen of the hatchlings fully awake from their molt cycle this time. They said hello to the cows, climbed all over Barricade and the Protectobots as they tried out new shapes and colors and words, and tumbled around with Frenzy and one another. Starshine, colored a curious mixture of Hot Spot-blue and grass-green, found his way to the top of Barricade’s helm.
“Up!” he squeaked, waving his little talons at the sky. “Up up up!“
Barricade looked around thoughtfully. Everyone else was occupied elsewhere. He reached up and nudged Starshine onto his hand, bringing the hatchling back down to chest level. “Up, hm?”
Starshine clattered his mandibles and beeped at him. Barricade jiggled Starshine around until his talons were all detached, and then carefully tossed the hatchling a few centispans into the air. Starshine gave a high-pitched squeal of delight and folded himself over, butting his rounded little helm against Barricade’s hands, aft in the air.
“Up more up up up yes!!!”
He tossed the hatchling a little higher this time. Starshine buzzed and giggled and squealed.
“UP! More up!”
Escape Velocity, Trajectory, and Noggin were all scaling his legs now, too, beeping with excitement. Oh slag. What had he started? “Uh…that’s enough for now.”
The three hatchlings joined Starshine, clinging to Barricade’s arms and clamoring to be tossed. Blades came over, shaking his head and smirking.
“Uh oh, now you’ve done it. I think there may be some fliers in this bunch.” Barricade, Jr. wore a matching smirk on Blades’ shoulder, and Bravespark was flattened and camouflaged against one side of his helm, giving Blades an oddly lumpy, lopsided appearance.
“Now you’ve done it,” Barricade, Jr. echoed, shaking his head sadly. He clambered down Blades’ arm and onto Barricade, joining the other hatchlings. “Up!” he demanded.
“Up…phleez?” Starshine couldn’t quite manage the harmonics of the fourth-level indicator of a courteous request in Cybertronian, but his attempt was reasonably close. The hatchling was looking at him mournfully, talons wrapped around his fingers. Gah! How could he resist that face? The little slagger had been taking lessons from First Aid. Barricade sighed.
“I can’t toss you all at once,” he said sternly. “One at a time. Got it?” The hatchlings meeped up at him hopefully. Adorably. Fraaag, he was so doomed. He was going to be tossing hatchlings until the universe ran out of stars.
They worked out a system of sorts, as the hatchlings (and Frenzy, who certainly wasn’t going to be left out of something that involved such delightful screeching mayhem) scrambled from ‘bot to ‘bot for their turn to be tossed. Noggin failed to realize he had to let go with his talons to become airborne, but didn’t seem to notice he was only riding hands up and down, and Gasket tried to launch himself from Hot Spot’s shoulder before he could be tossed, at which point Barricade discovered his new retractable octo-tentacle gripper was quite handy, actually. Ducky and Bravespark were the only ones that opted out, content to watch and giggle from various helm perches, and then it was time for an energon break for everyone. All that tossing apparently had worked up quite an appetite, although Barricade was relieved to see that the first ones to emerge seemed to be tapering off somewhat in the amount of fuel they required. Thirty-one newsparks (or sort of newsparks, anyway) that Galvatron was carrying. Barricade couldn’t even imagine.
“How is it going? Is it going to…take long?” he worked up courage to ask First Aid. He had some decisions to make. He needed to know how long he had.
First Aid’s expression was worried as he helped four of the hatchlings arrange their pile of sticks they’d been collecting. They seemed to want to build a standing roof, an advancement from their first instar efforts of dragging whatever detritus they could find into simple nest, but were having trouble keeping their walls propped up. (Noggin had gotten his head stuck in a forked branch, of course, and had to be extracted).
“It looks like Galvatron has all the necessary spawning sequences in place, and Ratchet says maybe three or four weeks before things get critical, even taking in to account the Allspark. Galvatron got here just in time. It depends on how quickly we can extract and refine enough energon, but so far at least two engineering firms have agreed to help and ten others are still looking over the contracts, so that’s promising.” First Aid shook his head. “Poor Ratchet. He’s had so much to bear, losing Ironhide, trying to keep Optimus sane and alive, and then me…and now all of this. It’s a good thing, but still…I just wish I could help him more.”
“Have you decided? What you want to do?” Groove asked tentatively, folding himself down next to the stick pile as he cuddled three more hatchlings against his chestplates.
“I don’t know,” Barricade admitted. “To see Cybertron again…” He trailed off, trying and failing to imagine himself there, at Galvatron’s side, rebuilding the future. “I would be a fool to say no, but...” The hatchlings. Barricade watched them, squeaking in excitement as they discovered they could wedge the sticks into Groove’s leg armor. Alive, growing, thriving, against all odds, despite all of his ignorance and mistakes along the way. They didn’t need him anymore. They’d be better off without him. And why did it feel like he was trying way too hard to convince himself of something that should be patently obvious?
“It is not any easy choice,” First Aid said softly, getting up to check over the regenerating patches of Barricade’s outer armor and patting Fulcrum and Toolkit, perched on Barricade’s shoulders, along the way. “I hope you stay, of course, but if you do go to Cybertron I’d feel better if there were time to give you a complete overhaul. The major issues are repaired, but some of those deeper rust infections are probably chronic without a full systems replacement.” He tapped Barricade’s chestplates gently. “Promise me you’ll not neglect yourself? I can set you up with a maintenance schedule that should keep you in good working order and head off any problems before they can get out of hand again.”
Slag. First Aid had his earnest, hopeful look turned up high enough to demolish all his hard-won Decepticon pride. Barricade mumbled something about of course he would take care of himself, and take all his supplements and update his anti-virals and not work too hard…he managed to stop himself before he promised to scrub behind his fenders and floss between his dental components as well.
“Speaking of neglecting yourself,” Hot Spot said, coming from behind to wrap First Aid in an affectionate headlock, “when was the last time you got away from this barn, either of you?”
First Aid leaned his helm back to look up at his larger brother. “Um…”
“Uh huh, yeah. Physician, take thy own advice, for once in your life. Why don’t you show Barricade the surprise? We’ve got things under control here.”
“Oh, well, but…”
Hot Spot rumbled his engines in a mock-threatening growl and pretended to wrestle First Aid to the ground, using one leg to lift and flip him over. Fulcrum and Toolkit made worried little tweeps next to Barricade’s audios.
“I yield, I yield,” First Aid gasped, between giggles, pinned under his brother.
“Good,” Hot Spot grinned down at him, bumping their forehelms together, then looking up at the two hatchlings who were watching the proceedings with wide optics. “Oh no,” Hot Spot said, widening his own optics comically. “I sure hope the hatchlings don’t come and save you!”
Fulcrum and Toolkit blinked down at him, making puzzled query sounds. “Get him,” Barricade said, nudging them. “Go get Hot Spot.”
They tumbled and scrambled down his armor. “Thundercats, ho!” Toolkit squeaked, as they pounced on Hot Spot, who rolled on his back, laughing and flailing dramatically as he was tackled and gnawed upon. Thundercats, what? Barricade remembered that he had internet access again and looked it up. Good grief. Maybe they should reconsider letting Frenzy watch the hatchlings.
Blades hooked hands under First Aid and lifted him to his feet, while Bravespark, Ducky, and Leeway scrambled down from his armor to pile on Hot Spot. The rest of the hatchlings abandoned their stick project to join in.
“We’ve got plenty of rations, and if we run into any problems I’ll snatch you back before you can say ‘Unicron’s Balls.’ Quick, get out of here while they’re distracted!” Blades made shooing motions at the both of them, while Hot Spot continued to flail and yell for help, much to the glee of his small assailants.
“Blades, we’re not going to just disappear on them,” First Aid said reprovingly.
“Great, we’ll get to watch them all whimpering and trying to follow you down the driveway.”
“No, I think they’ll be ok,” Barricade said, crouching down to the wriggling hatchlings as Hot Spot stilled, still huffing with laughter. “I had to leave them behind a lot, before. Hey. Pit spawns.” He whistled air sharply through his vents to get their attention. “I’m going out. You lie low, be good for Hot Spot, ok?”
They blinked up at him for a moment. A few of them made rude little raspberries they’d probably also picked up from Frenzy and then went back to gnawing on Hot Spot, seeming unconcerned except for Fulcrum, who was giving him a worried look. “I’ll be back, I promise,” he said, rubbing the hatchling gently on the helm. He felt like the scum from the bottom of a retrorat den, but he’d have to leave them behind eventually, wouldn’t he? And this was only for a little while.
“I’ll watchem all for ya, boss,” Frenzy said, jumping off of Streetwise to land on Barricade’s face and then dropping down to help pin Hot Spot.
Barricade gave Fulcrum one last pat and then stood and faced First Aid. “Lead the way,” he said.
They passed a police cruiser guarding the end of the road at the intersection that that led to the barn. Barricade felt a chill of apprehension, but the vehicle came up as completely non-Cybertronian to his scans. First Aid flashed his headlights and the human officer inside gave them a friendly wave and smile as they passed. It was similar to their first encounter, First Aid trundling along country roads while Barricade followed behind, with the difference, of course, that First Aid was now friend rather than prisoner (or bait for unwitting Decepticons, depending on interpretation).
They traveled north, First Aid offering occasional commentary on the humans or schools or hospitals he knew along the way and sticking dutifully to the local speed limits. They were heading to the same Autobot base he had stalked so desperately for a medic, he realized after awhile, although some of the roads First Aid chose to take were different.
They reached their destination just past sunset, taking a final turn that veered slightly west of the base. They passed through several layers of what appeared to be rusted and inferior human fences and security, but were, as First Aid informed him, somewhat more than that. The last was an impressive force field which let them through after First Aid chirped a passcode to it, sharing the sequence with Barricade. It made all of Barricade’s diodes vibrate as they passed through it. After the force field they passed a wide grassy field, dotted with trees, and then another dark form loomed ahead, the outline somehow familiar. First Aid pulled up to a ramp and transformed and Barricade did likewise.
“That’s…the Retribution.” One of the two smaller shuttle units from the Nemesis. It had long been deemed too damaged to be useable for much more than scrap and storage, he remembered.
“She’s not terribly spaceworthy anymore, poor old dear,” First Aid patted the side of the craft fondly. Was there anything he didn’t pat fondly? Barricade couldn’t bring any to mind. “We found her when we stopped by the Nemesis, on our way in to Earth. No one had even made an attempt to repair her and…well, I couldn’t bear to leave her behind.”
Barricade was somehow not surprised that First Aid’s tendency to care for and repair damages extended to space shuttles, as well as other Cybertronians, squishy humans, and hatchlings. Further than that even, maybe. A healer Prime. It was high time for one, perhaps.
“Go ahead, check her out.” First Aid smiled and tilted his helm towards the entrance. Panels along the hatchway lit up as Barricade entered. Despite the battered exterior, the interior was spotless and gleaming. A wide entry bay and docking area, approximately the size of the barn. Cargo storage areas to the left, one of which had been converted into a comfortable washrack facility, with several shallow, sturdy wash tubs along one side. Hatchling sized, inscribed with glyphs telling the legend of the first Seekers to win the skies of Vos. First Aid tried one of the cleanser taps, smiling.
“I’ve only seen the scans of the construction they’ve been sending me. This is the first time I’ve seen it in person,” he explained. “We found plans on the Nemesis that Starscream had hidden away. Grapple, Ratchet, Optimus, and Sideswipe have been implementing them over the last month, based on Starscream’s designs and some of the things they developed for us when we were small. Whatever the Fallen was planning, it looks like Starscream, at least, meant for the hatchlings to mature normally.”
Barricade felt a wave of sadness. All the things he hadn’t known about Starscream, things the jet had never hinted. How much would hatchling Starscream remember? Would he still be himself at all? First Aid had admitted that there was no knowing, no predicting how the returned sparks would develop, although their sparkwaves scanned true to the records of each mech or femme. Spark transfers to new frames had once been a fairly routine procedure, but how spark memory would work in the hatchlings returned from the Allspark remained a mysterious unknown.
There was more to the revamped Retribution, much more. Learning and exploration areas inscribed with more ancient tales and legends of Cybertron, filled with places for the hatchlings to climb, build, create, make messes, download data, refuel and recharge. A solid looking remote-solar energon generator (designated “Noodles“ according to the glyphs on the side) and small but fully stocked medical nook. Scattered around there were comfortable berths and couches for various sized mechs to relax, a Cybertronian-sized human entertainment center (the result of a collaboration between Sideswipe and a human named Miles, First Aid said) as well as several private living quarters and empty rooms in the back, ready to be put to whatever purpose might be needed. Out the back end of the shuttle there was a large landing strip for seeker frames as well as more climbing and exploration structures for the hatchlings, very much like the playgrounds humans made for their own offspring, although clearly designed with hatchling proportions and talons in mind. Also several muddy ditches for hatchlings to get filthy in, plenty of rocks, trees, grasshoppers, and sticks, and a good-sized pond for Ducky to fall in to. And was that an old barn, on the other side? Just like…home.
“From the air all of this looks like a parking lot for rusted, out-of-service aircraft, although that probably won’t fool everyone once there’s increased traffic in and out. Still, you can’t ask for anyone better than Red Alert for security, and we’ve got very good relations with the local humans. We hope we won’t have to keep them isolated for too long, though. It’s a wonderful planet, and we want the hatchlings to get to know all of it…but, one thing at a time, I suppose. Does it meet with your approval?” First Aid sounded like he really wanted to know the answer.
“It’s a little primitive, but the hatchlings are used to living rough,” Barricade tried to joke. Holy slag. They’d really gone all out. Where had they found the time, let alone the materials? It was almost unnervingly comfortable, enough of the familiar Decepticon formatting to the ship left intact for him to feel immediately at ease, but softened by Autobot touches like the couches and washracks. And sweet Primus the hatchlings would go nuts. They’d adore it.
“If I leave, how will it…will they be ok?” Barricade asked, his spark twisting inside with an emotion he couldn’t quite find a name for. The hatchling quarters were so wonderful, so perfect. They were everything he couldn’t have hoped to give them, not in a thousand vorns.
First Aid sighed. “It will be hard on them, to see you go. They’ve been through so much, and you’ve been their one source of stability. I don’t want you to feel trapped, though, Barricade, if you truly feel this is not your place. We will love them, care for them, protect them with our very sparks. They are very young, but…we will make sure they remember you. They will understand. Optimus had to leave us, too, for most of the time we were small. And communication forward to Cybertron is much easier than communication back. We’ll be able to send you updates.”
“But you want me to stay. Why?” Barricade asked bluntly.
“You still don’t believe us, do you, about how brilliantly you’ve done,” First Aid said, looking at him a little sadly. “Cybertron needs you, yes, but so does Earth. So do they.”
“I will fail them,” Barricade said. It was all impossible. He could not tell anymore which way his spark was tugging him. “I’m not qualified, I can’t be what they’ll need me to be.” Someone with more wisdom, with more patience, who could teach them how to…be. There had been a time, long ago, when he had believed in things, thought of things beyond mere survival, but now…how could he guide them, hampered and twisted by the past as he was? He was as clueless as a freshly kindled newspark himself, in this strange new reality.
First Aid’s hand was warm on his shoulder. “You will fail them, we will fail them, they will fail us, but it will all be ok. We all have our flaws, Barricade.
Barricade snorted at that. “Right. You’ve got flaws.” Kid was an honest-to-fragging-goodness messenger of Primus and he thought he had flaws.
“I have barely lived. My spark has barely been tested, not as you, and so many others have been.” First Aid shook his head. “We will hurt one another terribly, we will shatter and mend a thousand times, over and over until we learn at last to love all the more deeply for it. Your imperfections and your scars, we need those as much as your determination and tenacity, your suspicions and skepticism, the tender core to your spark that you will never admit.” Barricade’s helm came up indignantly at that, and First Aid’s optics brightened slightly in his own gentle brand of challenge, daring him to deny it.
“I don’t know. I just…I don’t know,” Barricade said at last, clenching his fists, looking at Aid almost despairingly. “What should I do?” First Aid was a Prime, wasn’t he? Weren’t they supposed to have all the answers?
First Aid’s optic ridges knit in concern. “I don’t know either, Barricade. I can’t tell you what to choose, but…Perceptor told us something once, when we were hatchlings. Maybe it will help.”
“Does it have equations?” Barricade asked apprehensively. He had a halfway decent science background, but he’d seen some reports written by Perceptor.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” First Aid laughed, sitting down on one of the sturdier climbing bars to look up at Barricade. “Luckily the details aren’t important. Perceptor told us he’d spent most of his Academy time tracing the essential math of the universe, to the underpinnings that weave the fabric of space-time together. He failed, of course. No one has ever been able to find the one unifying equation, not even Perceptor, but he claimed he found the echo of it, that he could draw some conclusions based on the shape of the answer he could not find.”
Barricade frowned. He really didn’t see what Perceptor’s Academy dissertation had to do with him. “According to all the evidence,” First Aid continued, “it seems to be written into the fundamental mathematics of the universe that not only is happiness possible, it is inevitable. So you see, whatever you choose, you really can’t go wrong.”
Barricade blinked at First Aid a moment, absorbing that, and then let out a short bark of laughter. “That is…really not helpful at all.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” First Aid said, looking a little deflated. “Would you like to talk to Optimus instead?” he added hopefully.
“No, that’s all right,” Barricade said quickly. He was sure Optimus was pretty occupied, with Galvatron, and the spawning and all. He wanted to stay as far away from that business as possible. Away. Away from everything and everyone. Maybe then he could think. Or maybe he was just a coward, running away because he was too afraid to choose.
“Am I a prisoner?” he asked.
First Aid’s visor flickered in surprise at the question. “Of course not! If anything, I’m still your prisoner, you know. You never released me,” he said with a hint of a smile which faded as he studied Barricade. “It’s hard to think, isn’t it, when taking care of hatchlings,” he said with unsettling perception. “They are rather all-consuming of any other thought processes.”
“It wouldn’t be for long, just…a day….”
“As long as you need,” First Aid said firmly, standing. “We’ll miss you, but we’ll manage. Hoist is due to arrive in a few days, and Thundercracker’s going to need training if he wants to help with the new clutch, so we’ve got plenty of reinforcements. Hang on a klik…” First Aid sent a transmission, and shortly afterward Barricade’s spark froze in its casing as he was pinged by Prowl.
Barricade. You are free to travel the entirety of this planet with the exception of the following restricted or sensitive facilities: a list of locations followed. If you are in need of fuel or funds you may access the following resources and credit account: another list, locations of assorted human-Cybertronian bases and facilities now scattered over all seven continents, pass codes giving him access to a generous chunk of the standard local human currency, with instructions for conversion to the several other human currency formats on the planet. Our presence on this planet is no longer secret. You may reveal yourself at your own discretion; however, you will kindly refrain from damaging human-Cybertronian relations as detailed in the attached document. If you hurt anyone I will hunt you down. If anyone hurts you, I will hunt them down. Understood?
Understood! Sir!
“There,” First Aid said, his fingers gentle on Barricade’s arm again, as Barricade’s engine gradually stopped racing, running last scans to make sure everything was in order. He deactivated the medical monitoring access link. “All set.”
Barricade deactivated the reciprocal link, noticing as he did so that First Aid’s hands were no longer sending him pain signals, but the medic was shivering slightly, all over, in the grip of some strong emotion that the fading link couldn’t identify. Guilt assailed him. When had the kid last gotten a break himself?
First Aid squinted another smile at him, somehow catching the thought, and this time, in that smile, Barricade could totally see the Prime-thing. Power both implacable and infinitely yielding, kindness beyond all logic and reason, compassion deeper than time. It was kind of freaking him out. First Aid’s arms made a small movement as if to reach for Barricade and then stilled against his sides. “I’m ok. It’s all ok. Go.” Barricade turned abruptly to leave. He suspected if he lingered any longer he might end up hugged.
“Um. Thank you,” he said, without turning around. “For everything.” He transformed and drove away, picking a road at random.
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