The Start of Something Interesting...

[lastonepercent]

The day was calm, with no recent Decepticon attacks, and none suspected to be incoming for some time.  The cons were too busy licking their wounds from the last battle, one that the Autobots had decidedly come out ahead on.  The celebrations had gone on long into the night and the recreation room was already a mess.

Thus, it was the perfect chance for a lone Autobot to slip casually outside.

Mirage had no shift currently scheduled, so he was free to spend his time as he pleased.  He certainly made no move to hide his departure, greeting his comrades in the halls on the way out, but the box in his hands remained unopened despite any passing curiosity.  It was quietly shifted into subspace before long, and  the former noble shifted into alt mode just as smoothly when he reached the doors.  Despite the completely inappropriate earthen race car mode, the mech had little trouble self-adjusting before driving off into the forest covering the mountain, for business unknown...

Comments

[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper spent most of the rest of the day angry and very, very frustrated that Mirage would put his fraggin' religion above someone else's need.

Okay, that might not be entirely fair; Cliffjumper was aware what belief and faith did for some people, how necessary it was, and for Mirage it was - or had been - part of his function.

That didn't mean he wasn't utterly, completely, frustrated. Cliffjumper didn't have much of patience in the best of circumstances and now, considering he apparently could go nowhere else for help...

Maybe he should go to Ratchet - Prime as a possibility didn't come up at all, even if he might know something. It just wasn't an angle he thought of - even if he'd rather try to just ignore this slag because what was the chance of him ending up in contact with something like the ritual again?

In the end, though, Cliffjumper reluctantly trotted over to the medbay the next day after his patrol, quietly hoping Ratchet wasn't there for whatever reason.

If he wasn't he could just put it off and then continue to ignore it.

Sorry no Ratchet account for youuu

[lastonepercent]

The medbay was seemingly empty at first; with no recent battles, the only current resident was Trailbreaker on the farthest berth, deep in recharge and recovering from a training accident. A stack of Ark supply crates, dusty and dim from disuse and only recently dragged up from the buried bowels of the ship, were stacked all along the entryway.

"Unless you're bleeding out, take a number or be 'volunteered'."

Ratchet grumbled, voice muffled; he was half-buried inside of a freshly-opened supply crate, struggling with some of the heavier requisitioned tools.

I shall surviveeeee somehow

[cliffjumper]

He almost turned right around when he finally spotted Ratchet, even when the mech acknowledged he knew someone was by the door. Of course, if he left now, Ratchet would probably chase him down later and then he'd have to tell him anyway.

But delaying seemed like a really good idea right now, because Cliffjumper was regretting his decision to get ratchet's opinion. Would he even know anything?

Though Mirage's comments would suggest he did, and Cliffjumper groaned then - and now Ratchet would definitely have picked up enough to know it was him so...

"... I just... uh, need to ask somethin'," Cliffjumper muttered as he eyed the crates. He didn't particularly want to be 'volunteered' to help, but he wouldn't run away either. Well, at least not because of that.

[lastonepercent]

The huffing and grunting from inside the crate paused. Something heavy clunked back down as Ratchet ceased his struggles with it.

"Just a question?"

He peered out, eyeing Cliffjumper up and down. When it was obvious the mini was actually uninjured, he nodded and made an impatient beckoning gesture.

"Get over here and lend a servo and you can ask. I'm a medic, not a forklift, and if I drop this thing on my fingers one more time no one is getting repairs."

[cliffjumper]

"Uh, yeah. Just some... er, advice," he said with a shrug and rubbed the side of his helm with a hand, avoiding Ratchet's optics when the medic looked him up and down. This had been a bad idea.

Who said he'd ever get affected by that 'ability' ever again, especially considering it hadn't happened until now since he stopped going to those on-site holiday celebrations?

But now that he was here, Cliffjumper admitted he could just as well ask and then decide if he should just ignore it.

"Okay." So he just agreed with a shrug and planted himself at the crate, peering at the objects within. "Why're you doin' this alone anyway?"

... He might be stalling.

Maybe.

[lastonepercent]

Not a terrible idea, really.

Inside the box were the very heavy, very large components for a fabrication device. It might not have been obvious to Cliffjumper, given his lack of medical expertise, but it was one used for replacing lost Cybertronian parts.

"Because Hoist and First Aid are off on field-training, and the grunts who dropped off the boxes didn't bother to stick around. Now help me lift."

Ratchet just literally needed another hand maneuvering it out of the box, and reached down for one end, gesturing impatiently for the minibot to do the same.

"Advice? Medical or otherwise?" Optics narrowed suspiciously.

[cliffjumper]

Snorting, Cliffjumper reached down for the other end, and at least the box wasn't large or deep enough he couldn't reach. That had happened a few times, after all.

"I don't think it's medical?" Glancing up at Ratchet, he then looked back down again, avoiding Ratchet's optics. "I just... fraggin' pit, I just slaggin' found out I'm apparently rustin' sensitive to the... uh... energy? raised during rituals?"

Now that he had to recount it, Cliffjumper wasn't sure he remembered it correctly, but hopefully Ratchet would know what he was talking about.

[lastonepercent]

Ratchet managed to wait until they had the prt mostly free of the box before giving Cliffjumper a long look.

"...Huh. Ain't that interesting."

Shaking his head, he went silent until they moved the heavy thing was over on top of a nearby, unopened crate. Grunting in relief, the medic gave his rather scuffed looking fingers a rub.

"The thing with Mirage, then?"

[cliffjumper]

"A fraggin', stupid, useless nuisance is what it is! I've got enough stupid slag rattlin' around in here!" He almost continued, but turned his helm to give the recharging Trailbreaker a narrow stare and didn't, instead focusing on helping Ratchet to get the part of the crate.

"... Yeah." Peering at the device which he couldn't figure out what it was, Cliffjumper rubbed the side of his helm. "Ended up in trance or somethin'. It doesn't fraggin' matter. All I wanna know is if there's some way to... I dunno turn it down or something?"

Waggling his other hand, Cliffjumper looked up at Ratchet properly finally, scowling and optics hard and dim. There had to be more than one way to deal with this thing, right?

The priests couldn't have just managed to hoard the only way to control it, right? Cliffjumper's surly paranoia said whispered that they probably (definitely) had.

[lastonepercent]

"It's probably all connected, you know."

Ratchet sighed, pulling out a cloth to clean the dust and grime from his fingers.

"It's not a coincidence you ended up with both 'stupid slag' things, Cliffjumper. Both are based on the strength of the spark."

Ratchet caught his glance at Trailbreaker and rolled his optics.

"He's out for the count, but if you want to finish this privately, wait until we get to my office."

He gestured over to a room off to the side, motioning Cliffjumper ahead of him.

[cliffjumper]

"Fraggin' great."

The noise Cliffjumper let out at that bit of enlightening information wasn't quite a snarl and not quite a rude buzzy burst of static, but rather something in-between. Eyeing Trailbraker again and the rest of the boxes, Cliffjumper frowned and then shrugged, before preceding Ratchet to where he'd gestured.

Since he was here already, he could always ask about something else too after they were done with this. Because while he didn't really care about this new thing being private or not - though maybe he did because the thought of people actually knowing made him want to scowl - the other thing was far more... important to keep a secret in Cliffjumper's opinion.

"I just wanna know if I can dial the sensitivity down so it can't be triggered or somethin'... or if the fraggin' priesthood really are the only ones who know how to train you." Huffing at that, Cliffjumper tossed himself into the available chair and scowled.

He didn't really want training, he just wanted it to not bother him, but since getting rid of it wasn't a possibility...

[lastonepercent]

Closing the door behind them, the medic didn't waste time mincing words.

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that."

Ratchet sighed, leaning up against the counter, arms crossing over his chest.

"As I mentioned, that 'sensitivity' comes straight from your spark. Other than keeping it and the surrounding mechanics functional, I'm not an expert. Spark-field resonance and receptivity isn't my specialty. It's too 'spiritual' for a medic. Too unscientific," he said, complete with finger quotes.

"The only way to dampen anything like that, medically, would be to install shielding directly around your spark chamber. Painful, brutal, rife with side-effects, completely medically unnecessary, and something I won't be doing. You're better off dealing with the fragging noble, because as far as I know, they've got the most useful methods for it."

[cliffjumper]

At just the first few words, Cliffjumper groaned and dragged a hand down his faceplate. He'd suspected that's what Ratchet would say, but he'd been hoping...

Grumbling, Cliffjumper supressed the shiver at the thought of that shielding and what it'd do and glared at Ratchet's office desk for a few moments before he glanced aside to the medic himself, doing his best not to start yelling. His tone was still slightly more sharp than what Ratchet deserved, but it was this or...

Well, rather not think about that.

"... And what if he slaggin' well doesn't want to..." pausing, Cliffjumper grimaced and reluctantly continued, "or 'can't' 'cause I ain't ever gonna be a priest, but don't I fraggin' deserve to know somethin' that might help? Unless there's some way to guarantee anythin' like at that stupid ritual won't happen ever again!"

Tossing himself back into the chair, Cliffjumper huffed. Okay, so he'd done a pretty bad job of not yelling at the end there, but at least he hadn't really been yelling at Ratchet?

[lastonepercent]

Ratchet didn't move from his spot, but he dropped his helm down to give Cliffjumper a chilly glare for the sudden bought of temper.

"Well, I don't know, Cliffjumper. You could always just stay away from rituals!"

He snapped, his own formidable temper rising up in turn. He shook his head, optics rolling.

"I assume you've already talked to him, given that snark. If it's a 'priest thing', they are notoriously secretive about their own mediation and rituals. You normally wouldn't have been around one to be affected by in the first place."

The medic raised an optic ridge, well aware of what Cliffjumper had blundered in on and the consequences of it. The minibot didn't need to know that he had been on-call on both occasions, in case something had 'gone wrong' with the dangerous rite.

"And if he knows a way to 'shield' your spark from such things and it is classed as 'religion', I certainly can't demand that he teach it to you."

[cliffjumper]

"What the frag do ya think I've been doin' since before the war, even if I didn't know what happened the single time it did happen? 'Cause it fraggin' well happens with holiday celebrations too, Ratchet!" Grumpily, Cliffjumper crossed his arms over his chestplates and glared right back before he looked away.

He might be whining a bit, but it wasn't as if he hadn't, knowingly or not, been trying to do just that, and it hadn't, precisely, worked.

"Sure he doesn't slaggin' have to, but it's the priests fault there ain't anywhere else to get the information!" It just... bothered him a lot. There was literally nowhere else to go, and while Cliffjumper wasn't sure if rituals he normally wouldn't have access to or holiday celebrations he... probably... could avoid where all there was, if there was something else, what then?

"I don't even fraggin' want it, but I don't want somethin' like this happenin' again either, and who the slag says it won't even if I try to avoid the rustin' things? How's that my fault?"

[lastonepercent]

"Probably hasn't been a need for anyone else to have that sort of skillset, Cliffjumper. Sensitives were scooped up by the Priesthood for a reason."

Ratchet sighed, pinching the ridge between his optics with his forefingers.

"It's hardly your fault that you have these 'gifts', but it is your job to look for alternate options if you don't want the one you're getting."

He waved a hand, wrist snapping out with an irritated gesture.

"Maybe you should ask Prime if Mirage isn't giving up any more information. I'm still not a better expert in spiritual matters than I was five minutes ago!"

[cliffjumper]

"No." Expression closing off into narrow stubbornness, Cliffjumper just stared at the table. "I wasn't even gonna ask you, and I ain't gonna go ask Prime, 'cause Mirage said I could check with you two if I didn't believe him that there weren't any other ways than the fraggin' priest way."

Engine growling, Cliffjumper considered the merits of just stomping out of here, because clearly this had just... been useless.

"So there ain't any slaggin' point in askin' anyone else, 'cause the stuck-up elitists already got all the knowledge so I don't see what else I can fraggin' do!"

Optics widening in a brief flicker, Cliffjumper was both embarrassed and surprised at the faint static that accompanied the words. Not even proper angry static, just... upset static and that wasn't something he'd wanted to hear. Even less with someone else in the room to also hear it.

"What the frag ever. Sorry for wastin' your time," Cliffjumper muttered and jumped out of the chair, giving Ratchet a grimace that could have been a smile if it'd been more relaxed, but he avoided the medic's optics as he went for the door.

No use staying, right?

[lastonepercent]

"Oh for the love of-"

Ratchet snarled, dragging a palm down his face with a muted clang.

"Just because we only know of the Priesthood having such methods, doesn't mean they are guaranteed to be the only ones, ever, who have figured something out."

He slapped a hand down on his desk.

"Do some investigation - ask Teletran or Prime or even someone like Jazz - or just question Mirage and find out how much you can learn without trampling on his religious rites or something. Don't see why you're giving up so easily. It's not like you."

[cliffjumper]

Stopping right before the doorway, Cliffjumper almost threw himself at the wall beside the door and crossed his arms, staring down at the floor.

"I--- I don't fraggin' know all right? But this scrap ain't... I can deal with strange stuff, whatever, but... This ain't just slaggin' strange this is... I can't deal with this." To illustrate (though rather opaquely) what he meant, Cliffjumper gestured in front of him, hands waggling loosely in no particular pattern.

Hunching up a little, Cliffjumper grimaced.

"I don't want to have to deal with this, this ain't... I can't touch it, right? But I don't wanna have it fraggin' well happenin' again either."

The other thing he had to deal with was, while annoying and sort of unsettling when he first found out about it, at least far more... physical. Tangible, and far easier to understand, deal with and have it dealt with.

[lastonepercent]

Sighing, Ratchet stepped forward, clapping a hand on the smaller mech's shoulder and giving it a brief squeeze.

He wasn't Prime, dammit - he didn't have the patience or time for emotional comfort!

"Look. The best I can do until you find out more is find a way to install some sort of medical alert for you, if you want. Brief the other medics and class this 'issue' of yours as a medical affliction. That way, if you're ever 'locked up' like that somewhere, you won't be so vulnerable."

He stepped back with a shrug.

"Until we find out more, that's the best I got, I'm afraid."

[cliffjumper]

He wasn't expecting the hand on his shoulder and twitched, but the suggestion was... pretty good, actually. At least it was something that'd help in some way, if he did end up in trance again before anything else could be resolved.

"... sounds like a... workable idea," Cliffjumper muttered and dragged a hand down his faceplate. He wouldn't ever admit to the fact that the idea of ending up in trance again wasn't just unsettling because it was something he didn't understand, it also made him, yes, vulnerable.

But since Ratchet had already brought that up he didn't need to do more than to agree with the suggestion, which he did like.

"Talkin' of medical afflictions though, you think ya could check if... uh, the other thing's still locked down like it oughta be?" Dropping his hand from his faceplate, Cliffjumper frowned, shifting on his feet. "Just in case all that energy and slag did somethin'."

[lastonepercent]

"That I can manage."

Sighing in relief now that the tension was rapidly seeping out of the room, Ratchet gestured up at the examination berth, turning to fetch his own tools.

"The scan won't take long. Afterward, I can use it to try and come up with a method to track when you 'lock up' like that. It should only take a few days, and then you can report back for a new install."

[cliffjumper]

"Otherwise I'd be worried," Cliffjumper said with a grin, ducking away from Ratchet to avoid any retaliation, even if the medic was already turning away himself.

Crossing the floor quickly, Cliffjumper got up on the berth with a huff, shifting in his seat when he'd settled down.

"Yeah, sounds good. At least that's somethin' while I work out the rest." If it could be worked out, but at least there was something tangible that would be done to act as a... safeguard, for lack of better word.

[lastonepercent]

"Hah. Ha." Ratchet snarked, optics rolling even as he fussed with the diagnostic devices, activating them. The berth itself was part of it - while the telescopic 'light fixture' hanging over the berth was another part. He pulled a plug out of the side of the berth, shaking it in Cliffjumper's direction.

"Alright, pop your medical panel - gonna plug you in for the full scan."

The 'light' overhead popped on, beam narrowing down to the minibot's feet where it would start.

[cliffjumper]

Sniggering quietly, Cliffjumper's optics brightened innocently and settled more properly on the berth so the device would be able to do its job.

"Aye aye," he said with a grin and obediently opened the right panel for the connections beneath, shifting so Ratchet would have easy access. As he did so, he had the thought that he was pretty slagging relieved that he'd long since known about the thing that was the reason for the scan.

Had he found out that a few days ago instead of this... sensitivity, or both, Cliffjumper was pretty sure he'd have done far worse than yell at Mirage. Not that it'd be the noble's fault he had the stuff, but given how this had gone, and how he took things back when he found out about his ability to create protoform eggs, well.

Having everything heaped at once on him wouldn't have been pretty.