The Female Of The Species.

Chapter Four.

Sam carefully reached out with the dental pick he held to check the teeth of the cogs in Megatron's left hip. Despite Megatron's assurance that the joint was now locked and immobilised, Sam wasn't risking fragile organic fingers when the pick would do just as well. The first few teeth were clear, but Sam soon spotted gravel and a gritty smear. He used the pick to shift the bigger bits of gravel, then used a toothbrush and a soft cloth wrapped around the end of a stick to move the smaller, oily or semi-liquid stuff. Once he had finished cleaning the joint, he applied just a few drops of the lubricant Ratchet had given him in a small can that would reduce the amount of friction-related wear and tear that could afflict the Cybertronian form without proper maintenance.

He had his head, arms, and torso under the crotch plating of the silver tyrant, for the first thing Megatron requested was a deep-clean of her joints. "Back on Cybertron, I would have had a smaller mech do this, but the only mech to reach this planet who was small enough, Frenzy, is dead," she had explained.

Sam still had trouble associating this huge mech with the pronoun "she", although Ratchet had explained they were still using the male pronoun unless Megatron asked them not to. He found it harder, too, to imagine Megatron as being pregnant. He didn't pretend to understand Cybetics, as Ratchet had dubbed the study of Cybertronian reproduction and inheritance, in fact Ratchet himself explained that after the AllSpark began being used almost exclusively to create new Cybertronians, the knowledge was mostly lost, some, Ratchet theorised, deliberately, during the femme purges of the last Dark Age.

He heard Ratchet speaking, but couldn't hear the content, it was muffled under the armour, but he felt Megatron's gentle double-pull on the line around his foot. As Megatron was so much bigger than he, and her claws were hard and sharp, a gentle tap on Sam by Megatron could unintentionally cause damage. Sam was at first worried Megatron might forget her own strength and end up pulling his leg off, but so far, the system had worked. The double pull meant a specific action: come out. Wondering what was going on, Sam wriggled out.

"Starscream has come for a visit, insisting he needs to know we are not mistreating Megatron: we cannot really deny him permission without him using it as an excuse to suggest to the rest of the Decepticons that we are mistreating you," Ratchet said, addressing the last part of the comment to Megatron. "Thus we are permitting him entrance, but only as close as and for as long as you are comfortable."

"Very well," Megatron said, getting to her feet as Ironhide, Optimus and Barricade all stood ready to jump to Megatron's defence if need be, (never mind that when standing she towered over them all). It didn't take very long before Starscream sauntered in with his usual slight swagger, and made an obsequious-looking bow - perhaps too obsequious - to Megatron, before addressing her directly.

"My magnificent Lady Megatron, are you being treated well by these Autobots?" he asked, the emphasis he placed on certain words suggesting he thought otherwise

"I am being treated well enough, Ratchet is a medic with much experience and integrity," Megatron replied.

"Our own medic may not have Ratchet's long experience, but his loyalty to you ensures his integrity," Starscream said. "With that in mind, maybe we can take you back to our Base where you can be looked after by your own?"

"That is indeed true, Starscream, but as it stands, I am currently a prisoner of the Autobots. So neither you nor I can say when I can return to the Base, but they have promised I can at some time, " Megatron said. "In the meantime, I have a pet to keep me amused for my stay. Pet, stand forwards so Starscream can see you."

It took Sam a moment to realise Megatron was speaking to him, but once he did, he scrambled to obey. Starscream bent down to look closely at Sam, flexing sharp-looking fingers too close for Sam's comfort.

"You have him? My Lady Megatron, allow me to rid you of this insect. The other mechs will -"

Whatever the other mechs might have said, done or thought remained unspoken as Megatron's arm lashed forward and she caught the Seeker by the throat, and lifted him up off the floor. As Starscream kicked and whimpered, Megatron spoke.

"We have rules regarding the keeping of pets, Starscream, and as such, much as I may think this human deserves to die for his actions, I am bound to protect him, as he is my pet." Megatron opened her hand to allow the Seeker to clatter to the floor in a spiky heap, and waited for him to regain his footing before he spoke again.

"If anyone is to destroy this human, it will be me, and not while he is my pet."

"It would be such a shame if someone mis-stepped, my Lady," Starscream replied warily. "The humans are so small and fragile, so easily crushed underfoot if we move injudiciously."

Megatron fixed his gaze on Starscream before he said "Then I suggest that we are all very careful where we put our feet then, Starscream. There are penalties for allowing a pet to come to harm I do not wish to pay. If he comes to harm because of you, be it by accident or design, your death will swiftly follow. Have I made myself clear? Now get out!" She pushed her face close to Starscream's and clenched her fist as the Seeker recoiled.

"Yes, I understand, mighty Megatron!" He screeched, and then turned and left the medbay, Ironhide accompanying him to make sure he didn't take any unauthorised detours on his way out. Only when they heard his jet engines screech in a standing take-off that must have left scorch marks in the courtyard did Megatron relax her posture.

"Sometimes I wonder why I keep that Seeker around," she said as she lay back down.

"So, if he's that annoying, why do you?" Sam asked.

"That is my business, pet, and I'm not going to discuss it with you or with any nosy Autobots. Now get back to de-gritting under my plating," she replied.

Deciding obeying orders was the best course of action, especially now Megatron seemed to be in a foul mood, Sam said "Okay Master", and wriggled back under, this time into the chest cavity as he had cleaned both hips thoroughly.

Megatron's voice, muffled but still audible, replied "Starscream does have one thing correct, and that is my mode of address. There is no point in using the mech pronoun now that everybody knows otherwise. In future, you will refer to me as 'Mistress.'"

"Of course, Mistress," Sam replied.

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Megatron had, at first, been aware that her secret could not be kept forever, and although she had taken pains to avoid its discovery, other mechs had - very occasionally - found out. Thankfully, she reflected, they had all been not only foolish enough to try and blackmail her with the knowledge, but also greedy and mistrustful enough of their fellow Decepticons to not pass on the knowledge they had obtained about her to another. She had dealt with these threats the way she did with any other, excessive force to extinguish their existence. Her fists clenched, her long metal fingers scissoring against each other and sliding down each other with a sound like several swords being drawn as she recalled using them to crush and rend. Some might have called it overkill, but Megatron called it certainty. She did not want any mech with that knowledge to be repairable, and had also been certain to destroy or remove their cranial unit with sufficient force so that no memory chips - or the memories in them - were in any way retrievable, readable, or downloadable.

She supposed that the longer she stayed concealed, perhaps the less careful she had become. She used to have special shielding around her spark to confound medical or scientific sensors that might have identified her femme spark, but she supposed that, like the contraceptive unit, it had silently failed who knew how long ago. Had it been a single mech who discovered, she could have dealt with it in the usual fashion, but when Ratchet had announced it to everyone, things had changed.

She shifted slightly as she felt the human wriggle further up inside her, drawing his legs up so he was entirely within her chest plating. She grimaced as the movement inside her brought up memories of being frozen in the Hoover Dam, being aware enough to feel the human insects crawling in and over her, but powerless to do anything about it.

"Be careful in there, boy," she said, immobilising herself where the human had slid under to the best of her ability, and locking her shoulder joints ready for him to clean.

"Yes, Mistress, sorry," Sam's reply came back, somewhat muffled through the overlapping metal plates.

For a short time, there was so little movement that she wondered if he was now too nervous of moving around in her internals to function effectively as an internal cleaner, but she could feel small touches and swipes that suggested that as still as the rest of his body might be, his hands were still working away as industriously as before.

Megatron had relaxed enough to allow her mind to idle for a while, as Sam shifted position inside her torso, but was roused as Sam spoke.

"I was wondering if I could check with Ratchet before I continue?" Sam asked. "I've found a large curved structure, but there seems to be, well, signs of damage. Small edges of darkened metal, and one part that looks like it's melted and then gone solid again."

"That's Megatron's spark chamber, Sam, and it looks damaged because it was, in Mission City and more recently," Ratchet said. "However, between the Allspark fragment, Megatron's self-repair, and the efforts of both myself and her own medics, there should be no risk to her health if you clean it. The equivalent in humans is scar tissue, it can look unsightly, but it still allows the body to function without being appreciably weakened."

"Okay," Sam said, but Megatron did notice that until she herself gave verbal permission, the boy did not resume his work. Megatron could also tell that the boy was still being careful, for she could only feel the touch of smooth cloths and soft brushes being applied to clean the outside of the spark chamber. She relaxed, as the space the boy now inhabited was roomy enough for him to move around in freely. Megatron appreciated the gentle nature of the human's movements and touches within her sensitive internal regions, for although the possibility of him doing any actual damage was unlikely, rough handling beneath the protective armour could still cause pain.

He was, she noticed, equally careful for the remainder of the cleaning session, and as diligent with her shoulder joints as her hip joints. She was almost disappointed when he carefully slid out from the other side of her plating, signifying an end to the cleaning session. However, she did notice, in fact was unable to not notice, that his entire form seemed to be coated with a thin mixture of grubby grease from her internal environment, and his own sweat. She was unable to hide her disgust as a faint mix of the scents of sweat and grease registered, turning her head away and raising her hand to her mouth.

"Sam, you know where the showers are, go wash that off," Ratchet said, and Megatron fancied that he was as discomfited as she was, but just controlled his responses better. The boy waited, and Megatron realised that he was being a good little pet, and waiting for her assent, Perhaps, she thought, he was being too good, as she nodded, and said, "Go and wash yourself off, you stink." He wasted no time obeying, and the residual whiff was bearable, and almost gone as she got to her feet and stretched. She could feel the benefit of the cleaning already.

The Decepticon tyrant noticed Ratchet trying to hide a smile, and as used to she was to being answered, she snapped out "And just what are you smirking about, medic?'

"Not much, really," Ratchet answered slowly, and almost insolently. "I'm just guessing that you assume his haste is down to your order, but I also wonder if it has occurred to you that he may find your odour as unpleasant as you find his?"

"What makes you think that?" Megatron asked, both irritated at the

suggestion, but intrigued as to how Ratchet had come up with the idea.

"Humans get used to their own smell, and it is likely that he can smell his own sweat, but our grease also has a smell he is quite capable of discerning," Ratchet explained. "He might actually like the smell, or hate it as much as I do, but either way, he may wish to remove the combined scents and associated grimy feeling as swiftly as you wish him to."

"You hate the smell of grease and lubricant? But you are a medic!" Megatron said in surprise.

"That is precisely why I hate the smell," Ratchet replied. "To me it represents damage, injury, work I have to do, potential lives that may be lost. So few mechs have had time for regular maintenance that I usually only smell internal lubricant when someone has been holed. If someone's primary armour has been holed, it's usually serious. Sometimes, Megatron, a person's reactions are a matter of perspective."