Temerity

Part 1-Encounter

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

"Sometimes solutions aren't so simple,

Sometimes good bye's the only way."

--Shadow of the Day, Linkin Park

Temerity-Unreasonable contempt of danger; extreme venturesomeness; rashness.

Anyone watching swore it was a star falling from the night sky, streaking towards Earth. But the fireball streaking over the desert was anything but a star. It hit the ground, slowly unfolding from its protoform to a bipedal mode. Unsteady on its feet, it pitched forward, and unwilling to stay down, slowly pushed itself up on all fours, and back into a standing position. It took one step, and then another, determined.

-----

Prowl sat in ops, or what passed for what would eventually be ops, sitting at his post which currently consisted of a packing unit from one of the Ark's cargo bays and a screen cobbled together from spare parts. The object the humans from NORAD picked up was no meteor. Knowing this, Prowl had already contacted their human friends in Tranquility, but told them the Autobots could handle a single protoform on their own, regardless of if it was friend or foe.

The Autobot second-in-command reluctantly commed his leader, knowing he would pull him from his first real recharge in several days. They were working hard on converting the old air base into a workable home, and now that Jazz was online again and out of danger, the few Autobots already on Earth were taking a much needed though short breather.

:Optimus, the humans have picked up a cometary form headed our way. What are your orders?:

:Get Ratchet and I'll meet you outside. Ironhide's in charge until we return:

:Affirmative:

Prowl quickly commed Ironhide, informing him, transformed, meeting his leader and Ratchet outside. The two were already in their vehicle forms, ready to find friend or foe.

--

Two hours later, they found the crash site. A long gash ripped in the earth culminated in a small crater, tracks leading away from the impact site but no protoform. Ratchet quickly scanned the area.

:It hasn't gotten very far. It's only 300 meters away.:

:Then hopefully this should be easy: Prime said

The medic and Prowl exchanged a glance.

:Let's go:

--

They found the protoform face down in the sand. Ratchet helped Prime roll it over onto its back, Ratchet quickly running scans on the fallen Autobot.

"He's badly damaged," Ratchet said. "Systems are damaged, and I'm picking up readings of an unfamiliar kind of radiation. I've never seen this kind of damage to a transitional form before."

"Can he communicate?"

"The internal comm is also damaged," Ratchet said.

"What about verbally?" Optimus asked.

"He'd need to be online for that," Ratchet answered.

Prime frowned at the medic.

"This can wait," Ratchet said. "I need to get him back to the base now."

"Understood," Prime said. "Prowl, help me get him back to the trailer. . ."

He stopped when the protoform's optics suddenly came online, one hand reaching for him.

Optimus grabbed the offered hand, surprised by the strength of grip from the damaged Autobot. He squeezed back, offering what reassurance he could.

"Designation, rank, unit," he said in Cybertronian.

"Hot Rod, tactical unit commander, weapons officer, Vector."

Prime's optics met Ratchet's.

:Don't breathe a word of this to Ironhide. Not until we can sort it out:

Ratchet nodded.

"Load him up. He doesn't have much time."

--

Prowl left Prime and Ratchet in the med bay, with orders from his leader to run interference with Ironhide. Lying wasn't one of Prowl's strong suits, but he could be creative when necessary. That and a suggestion from Jazz to just fudge a little bit almost crashed Prowl's logic center, but he promised he'd find a way to keep Ironhide away.

That done, Prime turned his attention to Ratchet, who how had Hot Rod laid out on the only functional surgical berth on base.

"Can he be saved?" Optimus asked.

"I think so," Ratchet said. "But I'm going to need your help first."

Prime raised an optic ridge at the medic.

"What are you going to do?"

Ratchet ignored the question, instead turned away, pulling equipment from various storage places. Finding what he was looking for, he set the case down on the berth by Hot Rod's head, unlatching the lid. It looked like a small datapad with cords ending in jacks attached. The medic retracted a hand, revealing a small drill, which he drove into the armor beside the young Autobot's left audio.

Optimus watched as sparks flew, then Ratchet retracted the drill, inserted one of the jacks into the hole in Hot Rod's head.

"I'm going to need you to uplink with me," Ratchet said. "And hold him at the same time. This is not going to be pleasant."

"Whatever it takes," Prime said. "Proceed."

Ratchet nodded. Prime pointed to an open access port on his helm, and Ratchet attached one of the other jacks. And again, Ratchet retracted his hand again, this time revealing ports for the other cables. He attached them with his free hand, turning to Prime.

"I'm going to isolate his higher processor function, which will render him unable to utilize his motor function. Then you're going to help me force him into temporary stasis," Ratchet said.

Prime frowned.

"Don't argue with me," Ratchet said. "His body is badly damaged, and putting him down like this will give me the time necessary to repair him. I've done this before. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

Prime nodded, but Ratchet didn't see. His optics stuttered once, flared brightly then dimmed.

:Hold him:

Hot Rod spasmed, and Prime barely grabbed his shoulders, pinning him down, before he came off the berth.

:Help me hold him:

:I am holding him: Optimus retorted.

:He's trying to fight me. Hold him. Push him back. Reassure him, anything. This needs to be done, and he's not listening to me:

Optimus felt Ratchet's annoyance through the link, felt something else around the edges. Fear. He pushed his awareness past Ratchet, suddenly sensing Hot Rod's presence shoving back.

It's all right. You're among friends. Ratchet's only trying to help. We need you to help us. Please don't fight us. It's only making this harder. The sooner you comply, the sooner you can be repaired, and away from Ratchet, Prime said.

:I heard that:

Can't. . .won't. . .go back. . .alone.

You're not alone. We'll be with you.

The feeling of being pushed stopped. Hot Rod's barriers came down, replaced by the presence of Ratchet.

:Stay with me until he's under:

-----

Prime checked his internal chronometer. Past dawn, and Ratchet was finally finishing up with the repairs.

Satisfied his patient was all right for the moment, the medic turned his attention back to Optimus.

"Will he live?" Prime asked.

"For now, he's stable. But that could change. If his internal repair systems would kick in, it would help a great deal. And his armor is starting to regenerate, which is curious, considering his condition. I'm going to stay with him a while. I'll call you if anything changes," Ratchet said.

Prime placed a hand on the medic's shoulder, squeezing lightly. Ratchet nodded, watching Prime leave. If Hot Rod survived, they were going to have a very interesting situation on their hands.