[Transformers] Ghosts of Cybertron (10/11) - written with raisedbymoogles
Title: Ghosts of Cybertron (10/11)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What with exorcisms, possession, and the occasional kidnapping, it's a wonder Rodimus Prime gets any work done. Especially with a ghostly Starscream making trouble around the base. But when the stirring of Cybertron's restless dead isn't limited to sarcastic ex-Seekers... Who you gonna call?

Contains an assortment of pairings, general bot-sluttery, crack, humour, and Decepticon/Autobot... 'alliances'. And Starscream. Lots and lots of Starscream.

*

"Another successful trip comes to an end, courtesy of Sky Lynx - you ingrates may now disembark." Sky Lynx settled on the tarmac and opened his hatches, allowing his passengers to file out from his insides. "And I expect a full refurbishing on my schedule by tomorrow, Prime!"

"You'll have it and a wash-and-wax. Top priority," Rodimus promised, all wide optics and earnestness. "You've earned it."

"Hmph." Sky Lynx tossed his head. "Next time, Starscream and his goons may fly themselves."

Rodimus rubbed the back of his helm sheepishly. "I'm really sorry about that, Lynx." Though, really - what had any of them expected? The Seekers had bodies again, they hadn't seen Thundercracker in a long time - of course they were going to want to get busy. In Sky Lynx's passenger compartment. In Sky Lynx's very cramped passenger compartment with several other mechs riding along.

"...I'll talk to them," Rodimus offered weakly.

Sky Lynx sighed. "As if I expect you to keep a leash on Starscream's interface drive. Go on, off to medbay with you before pieces start falling off."

"Yes, First Aid," Rodimus teased, and ducked a retaliatory swat from the spacefarer's tail. He waited until Sky Lynx had turned away in mock-disgust before grabbing his chest and wincing in pain. "Right," he muttered, "get fixed, then horse around, Hot Rod."

*

He'd managed to hide the wince behind a grin by the time he got to the medbay; First Aid was waiting patiently for him, rebuilding materials all ready on his worktable. "Have a seat, Prime," he invited, waving to the nearest medical berth. "You know the drill."

"Yeah, I know," Rodimus said, obeying his chief medic's orders with a sigh of relief. "Ah, Primus... can I just recharge here for about a week?"

"No, you can't," First Aid said tartly. "I have other patients, you know." Deft and gentle, he hooked Rodimus up to the diagnostic board and mused over its readouts. "...I might have you on bed rest for a day or so," he amended. "This circuit damage doesn't look pretty."

"Lemme see." A red hand reached in out of nowhere and nudged First Aid aside; the medic squeaked. Ratchet bent over the diagnostic screen, jaw set in a frown. Remembering the lessons he learned the hard way at Autobot City when Ratchet was CMO, Rodimus held very, very still as the white mech pored over his data.

"What do you think?" First Aid ventured.

Ratchet frowned a moment more, seeming not to hear. "Looks like you detonated somethin' in there," he muttered.

"That's not a bad metaphor," Rodimus offered with a grin. Huffing at young mechs' foolishness just as he'd always done, Ratchet turned to go.

"Um..." First Aid hedged.

Ratchet waved a hand at him, not bothering to look back. "What? You're CMO now, and I'm taking a well-earned slagging retirement."

"Yes sir! I'll do my best!" First Aid twittered; Rodimus reflected sourly that usually people were supposed to at least ask him for permission to retire. Then again, he thought, do you really have the cast-iron manifolds to say no to Ratchet?

As Ratchet shut the door firmly behind him, Rodimus decided that he didn't. Within him, the Matrix purred against his wires, as if in wry commiseration.

*

"You didn't have to hit me," Skywarp was whining - for the third or fourth time - as they meandered down the corridor.

"It was barely a tap," replied Skyfire, ignoring Starscream's snickering and the way Thundercracker was apparently trying to dissociate himself from the lot of them. "Maybe next time you'll think twice about carrying on in someone's cargo hold. It's not much fun for your host, you know."

"What about that time we--"

"Shut up, Starscream."

"Wait." Skywarp looked from one of them to the other. "You two are speaking again?"

"It was that or go slowly mad," Skyfire said drily.

"Oh, yes, we're speaking." Starscream's good mood was undeflatable; he leered at Skyfire. "We've had some fascinating... conversations..."

"On second thought," Skyfire sighed, putting on a burst of speed as he neared his destination, "The going mad part seems to be pretty much inevitable."

"You only miss your sanity for the first couple of vorns," muttered Thundercracker.

Skyfire risked a glance over his shoulder; two of his three stalkers were currently wrestling each other into the nearest wall, with cheerful curses and clangs, while Starscream was still at his heels, entirely too pleased with himself for Skyfire's peace of mind.

"Is there a reason you're following me, incidentally?"

"Following you?" Starscream widened his optics innocently. "Why, we simply happen to be going to the same place."

They had reached the door to the Aerialbots' hangar, but Skyfire stopped before entering, throwing a suspicious glance at Starscream.

"What are you up to?"

"Me? Absolutely nothing." Starscream ducked under Skyfire's arm and pushed open the door. "We flyers have to stick together, you know..."

The chatter of the young gestalt team enfolded them as they stepped into the hangar. Skyfire made a beeline for Silverbolt, while the rest of the Aerialbots, as one, stopped what they were doing to stare at the three ex-Seekers.

"Is it me," said Air Raid after a moment, "or is Starscream not as transparent as he used to be?"

"Is it me," murmured Fireflight, wide-opticked, "or are there more of them now?"

"Is it me," growled Slingshot, "or is that the fragger who stole my body a few hours back?"

"Wait, I can explain--" began Thundercracker, but by then he'd been knocked over by a fast-moving, enraged Slingshot, Skywarp had leapt to his defence with a jubilant war cry, and a very odd five-way battle (Air Raid had jumped in shouting something about card houses, and Fireflight appeared to be going along for the ride) had been joined in the doorway. With a lot of flailing.

Skyfire covered his optics briefly, then looked up to find Silverbolt doing the same. He shot the smaller mech a wry smile.

"I take it your day was about as interesting as mine."

"Did yours include getting shot at?"

"Oddly enough, yes. Also, tentacles."

Silverbolt sighed, leaning closer automatically when Skyfire laid a hand on his back.

"How many years do we have to have been enlisted before we qualify for a holiday, again?"

Another pair of hands appeared on Silverbolt's waist; the jet jumped, and craned his head around to find Starscream smirking at him.

"Did you miss me?"

"Like a hole in the--" Silverbolt stopped, optics widening. "You're not a ghost any more!"

"Well done," Starscream purred, wrapping himself around the stunned Silverbolt in a way that was only just decent for a public place, and not coincidentally brushing up against Skyfire's wing as he did so. "You always did pick the smart ones, Skyfire."

Over by the door, the battle seemed to have devolved into a chaotic pile of wings and limbs, the latter mostly engaged in tickling the former. Skydive was standing over them, apparently trying to decide whether he should play the sensible one, with Silverbolt distracted, or just jump right in.

"Get off," Silverbolt tried, though he rather lacked conviction, which, given what Starscream's hands were doing to his wings, was hardly surprising. "I ought to go and... see to those idiots."

"I think they can play nicely together without you for a bit." Starscream took a step backwards, tugging Silverbolt with him. "There are other things you need to... see to."

"You conduct electricity even better now," Silverbolt warned, but seemed not to be averse to the abduction, though he shot Skyfire a questioning look.

"I think," said Skyfire, following them towards the Aerialbots' quarters, "that he's going to have his way whether we like it or not."

"Oh," purred Starscream, "I do appreciate mechanisms who understand me."

*

"Ratchet!" The squeal of joy was accompanied by a cacaphonic clatter and a roar of indignation. Spectators quickly gathered to the mess hall, where - wonder of wonders - little Bluestreak had put a newly-resurrected Ratchet flat on his back. "RatchetRatchetRatchet," he babbled, "you're back, you're really back this time, I mean you were back before but you were all ghosty and out of it and so I don't think that counts, but you're here and you're real and-"

"-going to rebuild you into a go-kart if you don't get off me," Ratchet growled, but even he was grinning, and once they'd both gotten to their feet again he even pulled Bluestreak into a rough hug. "You little fragger, you're as energetic as always."

"I didn't get near so enthusiastic a greeting when I came back," Wheeljack pointed out from the energon dispenser, though his voice held more amusement than pouting. He claimed a table for them, three energon cubes in an arm.

"You were still ghosty when you came back," Bluestreak said reasonably, accepting the cube the engineer offered him and sitting along with Ratchet. "I couldn't tackle you without going headfirst into your worktable. Besides, you can't tell me you guys didn't tackle each other when you met up in Unicron's head, right? Though that's probably last on the list of places you'd want to-"

"Bluestreak!" Ratchet interrupted, mildly scandalized.

Wheeljack shrugged at him, chuckling. "It's the Twins' influence. Anyway," he added, optics sparkling with mischief, "we would've done it on the way back to Cybertron, but the Seekers' example convinced us to wait until we disembarked. Skyfire took exception to their shenanigans."

"They never," Bluestreak gasped gleefully. "What did Skyfire do?"

"Well, he-" Wheeljack lifted his head. "Oh, hey, Perceptor."

"Perce?" Ratchet turned around in his chair. "Hey."

Perceptor stood in the entryway, looking so lost in his own base. "It isn't fair," he said faintly. "I'd only just gotten used to the idea of you being deactivated."

Ratchet offered a sheepish grin. "Sorry."

Perceptor's lost look melted into fond irritation. "Don't you sorry me, you cranky old rustmonger," he said, and pounced.

For the second time that day Ratchet was flat on his back with a resounding clang. Bluestreak squeaked and jumped back, then blinked. "I didn't get a kiss," he pouted.

Wheeljack laughed outright. "S'cuse me, Blue, we've got some reacquainting to do. C'mon, you two, before Skyfire comes in." He pulled his fellow techies upright and slung his arms around their waists. "Come on, I'll show you my new invention. It's got lots of medical applications."

"Really?" Ratchet lit up.

Perceptor frowned. "Wheeljack, is this the one with the vibration function?"

"Perce, when you get a load of this, vibration'll seem like nothing."

Bluestreak watched them go, a goofy grin on his face, then downed the rest of his energon - and the rest of Wheeljack and Ratchet's - and went to find his twins. Today seemed like a good day for celebrating life.

*

Prowl entered the medbay, blinked at what he saw, then visibly regained his composure and took a seat near the Prime's medical berth. "I have the latest satellite imagery on Unicron."

"All quiet?" Rodimus asked hopefully. "No, wait. You wouldn't have bothered to come here if it was all quiet. Slag." He let his head fall back on the berth with a thump. "Okay, hit me."

Wordlessly, Prowl handed over a datapad; Rodimus clicked it on and blinked at the image. "Uh, Prowl, that looks pretty dormant to me."

"Indeed," Prowl nodded. "Don't look for lights, Prime, look for shape." At Rodimus's blank look, Prowl sighed and gestured him to advance to the next slide.

"...Huh." Puzzled, Rodimus clicked through the images, each showing a different, closer view of Unicron's head. "You're right - that does look different."

"The damage pattern does not match any known weaponry, either Autobot or Decepticon," Prowl reported blandly. "Could it have happened when you activated the Matrix?"

"Not with all the failsafes Skyfire put on me," Rodimus answered, peering at a detail of the damage. "Hey, Prowl? Do these holes seem weird to you?"

"Weird as in they are not supposed to be there?" Prowl obediently tilted his head to look. "The shapes are rough," he said. "I would say shrapnel damage, but they're not big enough."

"They look..." Rodimus searched for the right word. "Chewed."

Prowl looked alarmed; with a sigh, Rodimus handed the datapad back. "I'm back on duty in six hours," he said. "After that I'm probably going to be doing diplomatic stuff with the Decepticons. Do you think you can figure it out by the time I get back? Drag Jazz in if you have to."

"Yes, Prime," Prowl nodded firmly. "Rest well. ...Do you need any assistance? With..." He glanced pointedly at Ironhide, who'd spent the whole time passed out cold draped half across Rodimus's chest.

Rodimus grinned. "It's fine. He just wanted to be close to Optimus, but I guess coming back from the dead was tiring for him. Just get Red Alert to erase the footage before the Lambos get ahold of it."

"Yes, Prime." Prowl saluted and turned away sharply, giving Rodimus an excellent view of his doorwings quivering with suppressed laughter as he marched out.



(TBC)