Transformers Prime: Through Bad and Through Worse

Chapter Twelve

Ratchet worked on the scout for hours without pause, with Optimus at his side, fetching what he needed, and helping him where he needed help. It took a great deal of work to fix the scout's main appearance, but it took everything Ratchet had as a doctor to repair the gaping hole in his throat, after creating the best voicebox he could manage, and inserting it. Finally, the scout was stabilized, had a rapid flow of energon, looked presentable, and would be functional when he awakened. The voicebox however, it was unclear how his speech would manage, after the damage that had been done. When he was finished, Ratchet was tired and dull, staring at his patient with dim optics, hoping he had done well.

A servo rested on his shoulder, while another offered him an energon cube. He looked up at Optimus, who gave a weak smile.

"You've done well." The Prime put the energon cube in his servo. "We are fortunate to have you."

Ratchet stared at the energon cube in his servo, with dull optics. "I'm going onto the field as a medic." He said quietly after a few seconds. "It's a good way to be useful during this war."

A shocked look came to Optimus's faceplate, and he gazed down at his mate with rather hurt optics. "Ratchet... you do know how dangerous that will be. What about the sparkling?"

"The sparkling will be fine, and yes, I know of the dangers. It's my job as a medic in a war. I know when I'm needed." Ratchet refused to take no as an answer.

"Your certain it's what you want?"

"Yes, Optimus... I'm certain." Ratchet reached and touched Optimus's upper arm, wearing a weak smile. "I'll be fine."

A cough snapped their attention to the scout, who's round optics slowly started to flicker on.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a series of beeps came out, readable, but a little more difficult to understand.

::Ugh... wh-where am I?:: The scout asked, before stopping dead, his optics becoming dull, as he reached up and touched his new voicebox with his servo. ::Is that... my voice?::

"Yes... I'm sorry... your voicebox was torn out, this was the best I could do to repair you..." Ratchet replied quietly, shame thoroughly laced in his words. "You were badly damaged, and-"

::I know what happened.:: The scout covered his faceplate with his servos, which snapped Ratchet's spark in two. ::I was captured and interrogated... when I didn't give, Megatron ripped out my voicebox, and left me for scrap. That glitch! I'll see the end of him, that's for sure!::

"Megatron did this to you?" Optimus asked, a sympathetic look on his face. "I apologize, for the damage that has been done."

::You don't have to apologize... and, thank you, for helping me.:: He said, removing his servos and looking at Ratchet, with sad optics. ::My name is Bumblebee.::

"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, and this is my medic, Ratchet." Optimus introduced them as well. "Welcome to our headquarters."

::Thank you for your hospitality.::

"Sir?" A soldier came running up, breathing hard, and looking panicked, as he skidded to a stop before Optimus. "Iacon is under attack, estimated six wounded."

The Prime turned on his heel immediately and called out to some soldiers, his expression suddenly becoming grim. "Autobots, prepare for battle!" He stopped, turned, and looked at Ratchet. "You'll treat the wounded?"

Ratchet nodded. "Yes."

"We're ready, Sir."

"Autobots, roll out!"