Unexpected Involvement

Sickness

Steeljaw was fighting hard to ignore the nauseous swishing in his gut as he crouched in the shadows, trying instead to focus every ounce of determination he had on the empty road through the trees. His uphill vantage point gave him a good view of his attack site, but it was rather difficult to celebrate any tactical advantages at that moment. He'd been ill since that morning, from the very second his fuel up had hit his tanks. No doubt he'd been lucky enough to snag a tainted cube... how fortunate.

The far off rumbling of a semi made him tense in his coiled position, necessity overriding comfort as he prepared to put his plan into action. As much as the upcoming exercise made him shudder in discomfort, he knew this was far too important to let a little nausea get in the way. Gritting his dentae, he watched as the truck began to lumber into his field of vision, digging his claws into the dirt in anticipation. His window of opportunity was going to be narrow, he needed to move at the exact moment to avoid failure. Calculating the trucks speed, he was quickly able to determine a countdown, and he timed every click with absolute precision.

Five... Four...

"Underbite, prepare yourself."

At the order to his still hidden subordinate, he pounced on the truck like a wolf on a deer, going for the front and working with the momentum to skid it without tipping. Knowing they didn't have a driver to worry about, he immediately sliced open the automated vehicle, revealing sparking, alien circuitry. Fracture had found the trucks route and advised them of the black box that would need to be destroyed immediately, lest it send a warning to its masters and send any over curious humans on their trail. Finding the less than inconspicuous core all too quickly, Steeljaw tore it from the wreckage, finding it to be every bit as solid as he'd been warned. Though the minuscule amount of exercise was already sending him reeling, he still remembered the plan, turning just as Underbite emerged from the cover of the trees and tossing him the core.

The dark, armored block disappeared down the Chompazoids pipe, sparking for only an instant as it was shredded by the whirling spikes designed to destroy even the most resilient of metals. Steeljaw turned with a grimace as Underbite gulped down the rest of the trucks body, unable to handle the sight of eating as his tanks churned from the strain of the exercise. There was nothing he hated more than looking weak to a subordinate, and so he fought with everything he had to keep the energon down, clamping his mouth closed tight as he battled through the waves. The hum of Underbites power up hit his audials as he squeezed his optics shut, a deep voiced request coming from behind just as he believed he was through the worst of it.  

"Any chance I could scrap a few of the generators for an extra boost? Doubt Fracture would notice."

He opened his mouth to reply, only to be overwhelmed by a fresh wave of sickness as his ration forced his way back up his pipe.

"Hugh!"

Steeljaw barely made it to the side of the road before the taste of partially processed energon hit his glossa, leaving him retching and heaving for a good minute as he emptied his tank. Shuddering as he finally came to nothing but dry heaves, the wolf closed his mouth tight and forced himself to settle, regaining some control as his naseua lessened. The sickness was replaced by mortification when he remembered that he wasn't alone, and he turned to face his underling with uncertainty.

Underbites expression was equal parts confusion and disgust, and his silence certainly wasn't helping to clear any awkwardness from the air. Clearing his vents, Steeljaw found his raspy voice, trying to sound as if nothing had happened as he answered.

"Take the generators back to Fracture. Consume nothing but the trailer when you're finished."

No longer having much of an appetite, Underbite lifted the trailer in his jaws without argument, turning back the way he'd come to return the prize to base. Steeljaw watched him go with a tremble in his stance, unable to believe he'd lost control so completely. Underbite would talk too, he knew that. Primus, what a nightmare... It didn't help that he was still weak and ill and had to drive all the way back to base before he could rest. Still, every moment spent complaining was a moment wasted...

Transforming sluggishly, he dropped to the road and began easing his way home. Life had certainly enjoyed throwing him challenges as of late. It had only been three weeks since his heat cycle, and things were just starting to get back to normal around the base. What debacle would he have to face next?

-----------------

Thunderhoof was quite relieved when Underbite returned to the base with package in mouth, for it meant he could finally get on with his other assignments. He'd been tasked with storing the shipment of experimental generators when it was returned, and he was eager to get that done and move on. He particularly wanted to have a talk with their leader regarding future plans, and get his daily observation in in the meantime.

"Steeljaw's not back yet, is 'e?" he asked as he took the slightly mangled trailer from the Chompazoid. Underbite flexed his jaw before replying, no doubt stiff and tired as he took his time to answer.

"Doubt it. He ordered me to head out first." Thunderhoof was going to leave at that, but a strange expression came over the others face as he unexpectedly continued. "I'd stay away if I was you; he's sick as a dog. Puked right after we snagged the package."

That made Thunderhoof stop. For Steeljaw to be so ill that it'd show to others... It could have meant nothing, but he had to assume it meant something.

"I'll keep that in mind." he replied nonchalantly, doing everything he could to sound uninterested. Trailer on his shoulder, he headed to their storage room with a new purpose, thankful that his destination held something that could be of use to him. His spark was pulsing in his mild panic. As meaningless as this all could be, the implications were potentially massive. He could be a sire, and his empire might have its heir. Primus, he would need to tread so carefully. 

He almost dumped the trailer in his excitement as he entered their storage room, going straight for their folder of salvaged medical and combat data pads and searching for the breed bios that he'd found before in his preparatory research. Finding what he sought, he immediately pulled up the file on Wolficons. Having only done a cursory search before, he skimmed it through as he scrolled, knowing that most of the data would be about attack strategies and weaknesses useful for combat. Still, a few paragraphs pertaining to gestation were included, likely for medics, and he read that with immediate fervor.

Gestation usually lasts around 180-200 solar cycles, resulting in litters of 3-7 pups. Carriers may notice symptoms around the 21st cycle or beyond, usually in the form of nausea, irritability, fatigue, or spark pain. 

21 cycles. How long had it been since they'd interfaced? Three weeks to the day? That felt too specific to be coincidence, even if he knew it very well could be just that. Steeljaw might just be ill, but some part if him doubted that. He'd need to approach carefully and logically if he wanted this to go well. Steeljaw wouldn't risk something as dangerous as unassisted termination, or even an injury induced miscarriage, but that didn't mean he would cooperate entirely. They would both be spark bonded to their brood, and he knew he'd need to work with the wolf to work out the deal that'd make the most of their accident. First, he'd need to convince Steeljaw to even consider making a deal...

Looking back to the data pad, he immediately found a passage that would likely allow him to do just that.