Precipitous

Part 1-Downhill

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

Earth was still new but the routine was not. The familiarity of the faces and procedure made it feel like nothing had changed, but it had. A place to call home. Those were the words that had drawn them to Earth. And not to mention the human allies of the Autobots. Alien and organic, they weren't all that different, given their small stature and shorter life spans. But those were thoughts for another time. Like when he was off duty.

Shift change went smoothly. Hot Rod was all smiles as he took over from Ironhide, even though he was working a rare night shift. The overnighters tended to have a skeleton crew, headed up by Jazz, but overseeing them all this particular night was Prowl. Hot Rod figured if he kept his head down and did as he was told, the 12 hours would fly by quickly. But it was not to be.

--

Carrying a stack of datapads from Jazz's office to ops for Prowl, Hot Rod rounded the corner into ops, not expecting to run smack into the object of his affection. The pads went crashing to the floor, eliciting glances from the others in ops, and a glare from Prowl and a look of sympathy from the mech who'd plowed him over.

Prowl ignored the sympathetic mech, shouldered past, said, coming over to help pick up the datapads. "What is wrong with you?" the second in command demanded of Hot Rod.

"Nothing. . ." Hot Rod stammered.

"Help me organize these, then get back to your station," Prowl said.

Hot Rod said nothing as he helped Prowl sort the pads and deposited them at the second-in-command's station. He received a curt nod for his assistance, then hauled himself over to his own terminal, where he was conducting monitor duty.

Four monotonous hours later, he stretched, taking a quick look around. Prowl was still going through the datapads, Blaster was quietly bopping to the music piping through his private comm line, Blurr was darting from terminal to terminal, taking readings and Sideswipe looked like he was playing a video game.

Much to Hot Rod's chagrin, Prowl caught him looking up from his monitor.

"I'm putting together a list of supplies we still need," Prowl said. "I'll give it to you by shift's end, and if you can pass it along to Springer as soon as possible, it would be much appreciated."

"Sure," Hot Rod said.

"That's not all," Prowl said. "The C-17 carrying Lennox's team will be landing in about 20 minutes. Since I'm in charge of the watch, I'm giving you the responsibility of meeting the plane. I'm sure you know the routine by now."

Hot Rod bit back a retort, choosing instead to give Prowl a curt nod.

Prowl clapped him on the shoulder, walking back to his station.

--

Hot Rod stood on the tarmac, watching the first of the two NEST C-17s taxi to a stop. He wasn't alone, flanked by the human second in command, British Special Air Services Solider Graham. The Autobot heard the human yawn, spared him a glance.

"You could go back to your quarters, you know," Hot Rod said. "It's not like I'm going to tell anybody if you do."

"I'm here, like you, because we have our orders," Graham said. "Don't think I wouldn't be back in my bed in an instant if I could, but. . ."

"I know," Hot Rod said, venting air.

Graham was now familiar with the Autobot equivalent of a sigh.

"Prowl's not letting you off the hook, is he?"

"Hardly," Hot Rod said.

Before human and Cybertronian could finish the conversation, the cargo door on the plane closest to them opened and the first of its passengers began disembarking.

Lennox reached them first, followed by Epps.

"How'd it go, sir?" Graham asked.

"We lost 'em," Epps answered for Lennox.

The major shot the sergeant a look. "We didn't 'lose' anything," Lennox said. "They got away. And this is the last time I take Skids and Mudflap on a mission without adult supervision. They're not leaving this place again unless Optimus, Prowl or Ironhide are along on the mission. No offense to Jazz, but those two. . ."

Hot Rod watched Epps and Graham exchange a knowing glance while Lennox suddenly focused his own gaze on Hot Rod.

"You're not going to de-brief those two, are you? They need a trip to the brig. Can't you guys bounce them up to that ship of Springer's, throw them out an airlock or something?" Lennox asked.

"Ask Optimus," Hot Rod said. "Preferably in the morning."

Lennox frowned, but he knew the young Autobot wasn't trying to deflect him on purpose.

"Look, I know it's just your job to make sure we're all in one piece and report back to Prowl, but can't you, I don't know, maybe say something to Ironhide?" Lennox asked.

"You could," Hot Rod said.

"I'm not waking him up," Lennox said.

"And neither am I," Hot Rod said. "Wait--why won't Jazz. . ."

"He said he's done with those two after this mission," Lennox said.

Hot Rod shot Graham a glance. The human was just as startled as he was. If the normally amiable, laid back Jazz wasn't going to stand up for the twins, than they must've done something to really piss him off.

"It was bad," Lennox said. "That's all you need to know. 'Night, Hot Rod. Graham, c'mon. We've got a few things to discuss. You can fill in hot shot here in the morning."

Hot Rod nodded at the humans, turned his attention to the Autobots now leaving the plane. Jazz, Arcee and the twins were the first off; Jolt and Sunstreaker followed off the other.

"Everybody all right?" Hot Rod asked Jazz as he approached.

"Took some heavy fire, but nothing that can't wait until morning," Jazz said. "Gonna go turn in now. Say hello to Prowler for me."

Hot Rod grinned at Jazz. "Sure thing," he said.

Jazz nodded, herding Skids and Mudflap along as they headed toward the hangar that was the Autobot living quarters. Arcee, all three of her, gave Hot Rod a suggestive glance as she passed by. Oh frag, he thought.

"If I were you, I'd be following them back to quarters."

Sunstreaker.

"Yeah, well, you're not me, are you?"

"No," Sunstreaker said. "Thank the Allspark."

It was then Hot Rod noticed Sunstreaker was cradling his left arm, and if he wasn't mistaken, the gold twin had black blast marks across his chest.

"Are you all right?" Hot Rod asked.

"Nothing that won't enrage Hatchet until morning," Sunstreaker said.

"You're sure?"

"It isn't bad," Sunstreaker said. "Jazz turned off the pain sensors in my shoulder, so I can at least get some rest."

"If you say so," Hot Rod said.

Sunstreaker walked away without so much as a nod. Jolt followed, leaving Hot Rod alone.

-----

Prowl cocked an optic ridge as Ratchet came tearing into ops. It was 0330. The Autobot second in command couldn't imagine a reason for Ratchet to be angry unless someone had come back from the mission hurt and hadn't said anything. Hot Rod had relayed to him indeed, there wasn't anything major, but from the look on Ratchet's face and the fact he had stopped at Hot Rod's station and now had him pinned to his console, it looked like something had happened.

"What were you thinking, letting Sunstreaker go like that? Are you that dense? If *he* says it's not bad, it probably is," Ratchet growled. "Next time, I don't care if he says it's only a scratch, GET ME FIRST. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"Yes sir," Hot Rod managed.

Ratchet let him go. "You're lucky he's a twin. Otherwise, Sunstreaker would probably be dead if Sideswipe hadn't gotten me. You've got a lot to learn," the medic said. "And you better start learning fast."

Ratchet stalked away, muttering. Hot Rod looked away from the medic's retreating form to Prowl's post. The second in command did not look happy. And he promptly proceeded to tell Hot Rod how unhappy he was.

-----

0645. Forty-five minutes past the end of his shift and he'd just been turned loose. Hot Rod stood outside the door to the quarters he shared with Springer, fervently hoping when he opened the door he wouldn't find his friend in the same situation he had the last time he'd taken a night shift--happily twined and sharing an interface with Ironhide on *his* berth. That was a sight Hot Rod knew he was never going to purge from his processor. So now, he'd taken to comming Springer before entering.

:Are you alone?:

:Depends:

:Jackass: Hot Rod replied, walking into his quarters as the door slid open at Springer's command.

"How was last night?" Springer asked, grinning.

"Got my proverbial aft handed to me by Ratchet and lectured by Prowl. In front of everyone," Hot Rod said.

"Just another night at the office, as the humans say, eh, Rodi?" Springer said.

"Unfortunately," Hot Rod said. "I'm surprised to find you alone."

"Up until a little bit ago, I wasn't," Springer said. "'Hide said we can use his quarters instead. So you don't have to worry anymore."

"Uh huh," Hot Rod said. "Speaking of worrying, has Ironhide told Lennox about you two yet?"

"Not exactly," Springer said. "He's not sure how he's gonna take it."

"Almost everyone else knows," Hot Rod said.

"You could tell him. He likes you," Springer said.

"No," Hot Rod said. "Now if you don't mind, I need to get a few hours of recharge before I have to go sit in on the de-brief."

"Have fun," Springer said.

"Ah frag. . ." Hot Rod said, suddenly remembering the data pad he was supposed to relay from Prowl to Springer.

"What's the matter?"

"Forgot to give you a requisition from Prowl," Hot Rod said. "More supplies. I didn't get the list when I left ops."

Springer suddenly looked very, very annoyed. "Good thing you did forget," he said. "It'll give me the chance to have a little talk with our dear second in command. He can't keep coming to me for supplies when pretty soon, there won't be any supplies. Once what we have on the Xantium is gone, that's it. He of all mechs should realize. . ."

"Get the list and go to Optimus and see if you can get some of it off the Ark. Or just see Jazz," Hot Rod said.

"Or I can give the list to you and you and Graham can work your magic and find what we need," Springer said.

"Whatever," Hot Rod said, settling back on his berth.

"See you later," Springer said.

Hot Rod didn't respond. He was already in recharge.

-----

The de-briefing went down like the human Titanic, Hot Rod thought, and that was *before* Lennox informed Optimus Prime about what Skids and Mudflap had done. Jazz remained silent throughout the meeting, arms crossed, his face solemn. And Hot Rod himself wasn't allowed to hear what had happened because he'd been ordered to remove the twins from the hangar.

Once outside, the twins turned their ire on Hot Rod, but he stopped them before they got started.

"One more word, and I'll give you to Ironhide for target practice," Hot Rod said. "Or I'll do it myself."

Twenty minutes of watching the two fume later, the hangar door opened.

Lennox gave the twins a feral grin as he passed by. "Nice knowin' you two," he said.

Optimus Prime followed, bearing down on the two.

"You're being sent to the Xantium for the next two weeks," Optimus said. "To the brig. During which time you can think about your behavior of late and the mission you compromised."

"That's just a bunch of. . ." Mudflap started, but Skids punched his brother in the head.

"That's enough," Optimus said. "I wouldn't move if I were you, because Roadbuster is going to initiate an orbital jump at any moment. Wouldn't want you to lose any body parts."

Suddenly, a shaft of light appeared in a blaze, engulfing the twins and as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared.

"What did they do?" Hot Rod finally asked.

Optimus turned to him. "You do not want to know," he said.

-----

The safety and quiet of his quarters should have been a nice change, but it wasn't. Hot Rod had a report to write, and as usual, it was late. He and Graham had spent the afternoon getting together the supplies Prowl requested. The second in command was happy, Jazz was talking again and Optimus was a little less tense with the absence of Skids and Mudflap. Hot Rod only wished he could be so lucky.

Since coming to Earth, he'd had responsibilities he never wanted thrown at him. As part of Springer's Wreckers, he'd had enough to keep him busy. Being his friend's second in command had been an honor, and he'd been proud to serve in that capacity. But never again, he'd been told.

Hot Rod knew it was a little over a year since the battle with the Fallen and the retrieval of the Matrix of Leadership, which was now carried by Optimus Prime. The Wreckers had been on Earth seven months, two weeks, three days and 17 hours. He knew exactly to the second how long it had been since everything changed.

One of the brands Hot Rod bore marked him as a Prime. Optimus Prime had singled him out as such because the Matrix came alive at the presence of another Prime. Lucky me, Hot Rod thought.

It was just crazy. Nothing was the same anymore. Autobots he'd known a long time didn't treat him the same and Optimus was no exception. The Autobot leader had gone from treating him as a subordinate to treating him as an equal. Springer still treated him the same; as did Ironhide. Prowl had moments where he treated him as he always had--an inexperienced punk who still had much to learn, but sometimes. . .

And the humans. . .Hot Rod knew he hadn't yet lived up to their expectations of what a Prime should be, considering they had the best example in the world, and then he came along. They even called him by the new name he'd been given--Rodimus Prime.

That galled more than he could say. Hot Rod still thought of himself as Hot Rod. Springer called him Rodi, always would. Ironhide called him Rodimus, just to annoy him, but it wasn't malicious, so he didn't mind.

Hot Rod's train of thought was broken when the door chimed. "Enter," he said, looking up from his data pad.

Ironhide.

"If you're looking for Springer, he's up on the Xantium and he won't be back for a few hours," Hot Rod said.

"I thought so," Ironhide said. "But now that I'm here, how are you?"

"Trying to finish this report so Prowl doesn't rip my head off," Hot Rod said.

"He'd never do that to a Prime," Ironhide said. "Even if that Prime is you."

"Wanna test that theory?" Hot Rod said.

"Rodimus, I know this has been a hard transition to make, but you have responsibilities now. It's a hard burden to bear, but you're not alone. Prowl respects the title of Prime, what it means. And he's more than a little upset at the prospect of being replaced by you because you're a Prime," Ironhide said.

"I am not replacing anyone," Hot Rod said. "Especially Prowl."

"You need to tell him that," Ironhide said.

"Or Optimus can," Hot Rod retorted.

Ironhide didn't gratify him with a response. He decided to change the subject.

"Did you know Arcee's been asking about you again?" Ironhide said.

"You should have seen the look she gave me last night," Hot Rod said.

"Maybe you should have a talk with her," Ironhide said. "You're lucky to have a femme interested in you. And you'd be well within your rights as Prime to initiate a relationship. . ."

"Whoa. Stop right there," Hot Rod said. "'Well within my rights?' What the hell are you talking about?"

"The fact you're a Prime, no doubt, has helped make you more attractive to Arcee. Are you that dense? You've finally given her a reason to look past your arrogance and. . ."

From the look on Hot Rod's face, Ironhide knew he'd hit a proverbial nerve. Hot Rod had been anything but arrogant the past few months. Sarcastic, difficult, angry, yes. Arrogant, not much, but he'd shown moments of his trademark cockiness, but only sparingly.

"Arcee's just looking for somebody to spark an offspring with, and that is not going to be me, Prime or not," Hot Rod said.

"You don't know what you're missing out on," Ironhide said.

"Do you know how many times on Cybertron she rejected me?" Hot Rod said. "And now, I'm not gonna take that bait. If she wanted me for me, she could have me. But otherwise, no way in the human hell."

"Have someone else in mind, do you?" Ironhide asked, a mirthful gleam in his optics.

"Hardly," Hot Rod said. "Ironhide, c'mon. I have work to do."

Ironhide gave the younger Autobot a wan smile.

"You should at least talk to Arcee," he said.

Hot Rod hmphed, already again engrossed in his report.