Pain and Servitude

Chapter 11

Ratchet sighed as he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the plain gray ceiling overhead. The examinations of each decepticon had been scheduled and sent to him that morning. He'd taken the time to examine the list, chuckling bitterly when he noticed just how spaced out each meeting would be, ensuring that there would be no chance of any of the slaves crossing paths. Figures that they'd want them to feel even more vulnerable than they already were.

However there was another thing that caught his attention. After his examination, each decepticon would be shipped to the Iacon Central Hospital to be double-checked by the medics there. The Council no longer trusted him, they were starting to see through his act. Cursing, he stood from his chair and began to pace, shoulder plates stiff.

He had to hide Shockwave, he'd known that for a while. Stage it to make it seem like an escape, escort the slave into the basement rooms that nobody, save for Ratchet himself, knew about and report to the authorities. But now? Knowing how little trust the council had in him?

A silver servo slammed into the wall, the force of the collision making the data pass on the nearby shelves rattle against each other. Ratchet closed his optics and cycled deeply, leaning against his outstretched arm for support. He kept telling himself that he would never do something like that to any living being, no matter how wicked or cruel, but he would be lying if he said that he hadn't considered it. It would be so easy to just let go, fall victim to the hurt, anger, pain and grief still existing deep within his spark. How many innocent lives had the decepticons taken? How many families had been broken apart by Megatron's tyranny? How many friends lost? Wouldn't it be right to give them a taste of their own medicine?

No, Ratchet reminded himself. No. Taking someone against their will was one if not the most despicable, disgusting, horrific thing you could ever do to another being. The decepticons killed and tortured, but they never crossed that invisible line, never stripped someone of any dignity they had left like that. They did not deserve this.

Pushing off the wall, he began to pace again, the rising sun enveloping his form in a soft, golden light, making his armor glint and his optics shutter instinctively against the almost blinding sunlight. Could he perhaps still be able to stage Shockwave's 'escape'? But where he would take the scientist, for it would be too risky to keep him in the clinic now?

Coming to a sudden halt, he turned to the window, faceplates scrunched in concentration. Could perhaps Blurr be able to help? His pub had underground rooms that could only be accessed by a trapdoor hidden within the building and as far as he knew, no one was aware of his friendship with the blue racer. But could he really threaten Blurr's life like this? And was Blurr trustworthy enough? He'd been a spy during the war, but was he a spy now?

But Ratchet knew he had no choice, there was no other way. And what of Soundwave? Bumblebee had been equally distressed by the news as the slaves. The youngster had almost purged at the very idea.

Both slaves would have to be transferred at the same time. In fact, it would be even more believable if he were to say that he'd been overpowered by two decepticons acting out in desperation. The trackers in their collars will be easy to switch off, Ratchet and Shockwave were renowned scientists after all, they'd long since figured out each function of the 'disciplinary device' strapped around the 'con's neck.

But, to make it even more believable, Ratchet would have to be wounded, preferably critically, that way, the Council would have it's doubts about labeling him as a traitor and however much Ratchet detested the idea of being put in the care of the medics that were in the Council's pocket, he had no choice. He just hoped to Primus that they were not in the possession of a Cortical Psychic Patch, the one that had been on the Nemesis had been broken beyond repair by him. He could try projecting false memories, but he highly doubted it would work.