"This is an escape, Soundwave. You and Shockwave are getting out today, this instant." The medic hurried to the nearby drawers, hastily rummaging through them until finally fishing out a small remote. At the mere click of a button, Soundwave's collar fell away with a soft hiss, landing at his pedes with a soft thud. Purple optics widened slightly, shifting to stare in bewilderment at the deactivated thick band now lying at the slave's feet. Ratchet began to speak again, moving about the room with an almost frantic haste, spitting out instructions to the two weakened mechs, completely unaware of the tall white mech slowly coming up behind him.
Pharma watched the scene unfold, mouthplate stretched into a mocking grin, blue optics flashing with barely suppressed glee and malice. He looked away from the moving figure, instead fixing his gaze on the immobile mech beside him, grin widening at the helpless and defeated look on his captive's face. Blackness fell around them the moment Shockwave's blow struck and the scene changed, turning into what could've been a barren room illuminated by a single light had it not been for the fact that Ratchet could not see a single wall in any direction he looked. It was at if the air itself was a dull gunmetal gray.
"And that's a wrap" Pharma practically purred, turning to face the hunched form beside him. Ratchet scowled, masking the despair and guilt that were beginning to coarse through him by pulling his field closer to his frame. The last time he'd been subjected to the effects of the Cortical Psychic Patch was during the war, when Megatron had kidnapped him in order to complete the Synthetic energon formula. But never would've he thought that he'd be subjected to it again, at the hands of his fellow Autobots at that. He remained silent, only allowing himself to glare at his captor. He couldn't afford falling to the bait, he was in deep slag as it were. Primus, what was he going to do now? He was captured, Bumblebee was currently being investigated and the remaining slaves were now on an even tighter leash, the security around them higher than before.
Pharma pretended to pout, leaning down to grab the older mech's chin in one servo, forcefully pulling Ratchet up to meet his gaze. "Nothing to say? That's disappointing.. Usually you're so chatty, always sticking your helm in matters that don't concern you." Gritting his dentae, he pulled his captive closer, bringing them faceplate to faceplate.. only to reel back when Ratchet promptly spat in his face. "Why you little-!" Pharma snarled, blue optics flashing, servo raised in preparation to strike - when suddenly everything fell away.
A dark purple ceiling met him when he opened his optics. He tried to sit up, but couldn't move. He was still restrained, the energy bands securing him tightly to the medical berth. Right. The Nemesis. He remembered now. For a moment his mind returned to his time at the hands of the decepticons during the war. Funny, how he'd never felt as threatened in their clutches as in the hands of his own brethren. Say what you will about decepticons and their cruel, manipulative methods, they at least had more honor and restraint. His frame ached from being constantly strapped to a hard surface, whereas the decepticon cells allowed him to move around at least a bit. The decepticons did not use the the Patch until they'd exhausted all other options and even then their touch upon his processor had been professional. Pharma's intrusion was personal, violent and his helm hurt.
Pharma snarled and Ratchet lifted his helm, curious as to what had caused his colleagues sudden aggression. The assistant medic, Ratchet failed to recall his name, cringed, lifting a datapad between him and his superior as if it could serve as a shield against the white mech's ire. Frowning, the old medic forced himself to pay attention, straining his audials to catch snippets of the conversation.
"And why is that my problem?!" Pharma hissed, dentae bared in an ugly sneer. His assistant winced, taking a cautionary step back to put some distance between himself and his enraged superior.
"A carrier in d-distress is dangerous, s-sir, you know t-that.. Not only to the child, but t-the surrounding people as well.."
"So restrain him! What can be so difficult about strapping down an unarmed slave?!" Ratchet's frown deepened and his servos clenched. Carrier in distress? Slave? Knock Out! What in Primus's name were they doing to him now?!
The assistant, to his credit, seemed appalled. "Tie down a mech in the throes of emergence? Sir! We cannot do that! The carrier will not be able to handle that kind of stress! He could hurt himself or the sparkling! We must get him a medic he trusts! Senator Smokescreen made it explicitly clear that if any harm came to his slave or 'product', as he put it, he'd have our heads!"
Ratchet stilled. Oh scrap, oh scrap, scrap, scrap, scrap! It was too early, Knock Out still had around an earth month of gestation. Frag, Smokescreen. The rough treatment and the decepticon's fragile emotional state must've triggered the birthing sequence. He had to get to Knock Out now!
A birthing, stressed carrier was dangerous. Delirious and in pain, they would lunge at anyone they either did not recognize or trust. They were fiercely territorial and protective of their unborn young. It wasn't unheard of for medics to suffer torn plating and ruptured lines after dealing with a worried carrier they had not met before the emergence. Some had even lost limbs to larger cybertronians and had to have them reattached. It was important for the medic to be introduced to the carrier from the start of the carrying cycle in order to build the bond of trust between them.
Knock Out was currently stressed, exhausted, frightened and in a lot of pain. And Pharma wanted him tied down?! Ratchet's tanks roiled at the thought. Suddenly his bonds slid away and he collapsed to the floor, unable to hold himself upright any longer. Rough hands hoisted him up and he heard Pharma order the guards to escort him to the room currently occupied by the distressed grounder. His vision blurred as he was carried through the dark halls.
Ratchet didn't know how long it took, time seemed to slow down. He soon lost count how many turns they'd taken. The Nemesis was like a giant maze and without access to the schematics, he had no hope of ever successfully navigating it. After what seemed like an eternity, the guards finally came to a halt. The old medic did not get a chance to regain his senses before being shoved through the door in one hasty movement, stumbling to regain his footing. The loud clang of the door sliding quickly shut behind him startled Ratchet and he flinched, unprepared for the loud noise. Taking a step forward, he jumped when he felt something splash against his pede. He didn't need to look down to realize what it was. Energon. Knock Out! A soft keening from the corner of the room caught his attention and he hurried over in the direction that it was coming from with an almost frantic haste.
Knock Out was curled in the corner, claw marks and energon staining his frame and the walls around him as his vents hiccuped and struggled, soft whines and moans of pain issuing out of his vocalizer. The red mech trembled, the fluorescent blue of his lifeblood painting his legs, dripping sluggishly down onto the dark floor, seeping into joints. Ratchet approached the carrier cautiously, bending down on one knee in front of the younger mech, careful not to crowd him. Red optics snapped up to fix on him instantly, clawed servos curling in preparation to strike- only to go lax when Knock Out realized who was now standing in front of him. Ratchet said nothing, instead opting to extend his E.M field, gently brushing it against the Con's, allowing him to make sure that he was really there and not a hallucination. His spark broke as the younger mech visibly hesitated, as if he were no longer sure he could really trust the older medic, before hesitantly extending his own field in response. Ratchet enveloped him instantly, pulsing comfort and concern through his field, a tactic far more effective than the use of words. At Knock Out's permission, he slowly inched closer, stopping whenever the mech tensed and allowing him to get used to his presence.
A panicked whine tore itself out of Knock Out's vocalizer as he placed his servo on a trembling shoulder plate and he retracted it immediately, muttering soft words of encouragement and pulsing more comfort until the red mech relaxed. Just as slowly, he helped the youngster uncurl, laying him softly down on the hard floor for a scan. It was too late to try and prevent the premature birth and surgery was out of the question. They'd have to do it the hard way.
Continuing to whisper soft words of encouragement, he scooped the decepticon medic up, wincing at the shrill cry the motion, no matter how gentle, caused. Placing Knock Out on the berth, he got to work, turning on the monitors and various scanners quickly and professionally before turning to tend to the carrier.
The process was long and grueling. Ratchet lost count how many times Knock Out screamed, vocalizer glitching before cutting out entirely until the medic could only keen from the excruciating pain lacing through him. Ratchet had to force himself to remain professional, pushing down his anger, hate and disgust for his former team member in favor of the distressed carrier that needed his aid. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but wonder what the frag Smokescreen has been thinking. Why did it take him so long to get Knock Out to a medic? Why the frag hadn't his former colleagues tended to the carrier in the throes of emergence? They were medics, their job was to do everything in their power to help even with the threat of possible injuries. They'd all been trained on how to deal with sparked mechs, even the most territorial and violent ones. So why the frag hadn't anyone helped???
The loud cries of a newborn sparkling echoed through the room as Knock Out collapsed against the berth, unable to keep himself more or less upright any longer. Ratchet cradled the small form close, feeling his anger and hate towards his former comrades melt away as he looked down at the squirming mechling in his arms. Oh, he was undoubtedly Breakdown's. The child was practically a copy of his sire, right down to the orange faceplate and yellow optics, but the old medic could still see some of Knock Out in him too. He had the same elf like audials and the way he flicked them as he got used to his surroundings made Ratchet smile. His digits were longer and resembled claws more than anything and there were cherry red streaks amongst the deep blue plating. Even his optics were the same shape as Knock Out's.
The mechling whined, wriggling furiously in the old medic's servos in a desperate search for energon. Ratchet couldn't resist a chuckle. "Demanding little thing, aren't you kid?" The sparkling hissed at him as if in agreement, but instantly quieted as a soft rumble echoed through the small room. While Ratchet was occupied, Knock Out had somehow forced himself into an upright position, red optics fixing on the small figure in the medic's servos. There was something soft in that look, something tender, something Ratchet never would've thought he'd see on a 'Con's face. In silence he passed the child into Knock Out's shaking servos, gently helping him to position the small frame before taking a step back to allow the two some privacy.
Knock Out cradled his son close to his chest, crooning softly when the little one began to fuss. The kid relaxed instantly, tiny claws grabbing onto the edges of his carrier's armor as he clung to the red mech. The racer smiled fondly, brushing his lip plates against his mechling's helm, cradling him even closer as if afraid that he would be torn away from him at any second. The child squeaked in response, clinging even closer to his parent as Knock Out shushed him quietly.
Ratchet couldn't hold back a soft smile. Searching through his contacts, he found the secured channel, sending a message that no Autobot would ever see. That night, all the captive decepticons celebrated the birth of Wildbreak, Knock Out and Breakdown's son.