sunchime | [ open post: drift ]

"What?" Drift's gaze jerks back to Ratchet's face, his brow furrowed. "Threw me under the bus? Ratchet, no -- that's not what happened at all."

So apparently 'everyone knows about Overlord' doesn't mean that Rodimus told anyone the full story. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Drift sighs, lowering his arms and sitting forward in his seat.

"Ratchet, the leaving -- the exile, the revocation of the Reintegration Act -- that was my idea. I told Rodimus that I was going to take the fall."

Ratchet stares at him for a moment, unable to force the words Drift is saying into any kind of intelligible order.

"I'm sorry, what? You--" He scoffs a laugh, his optics pale. "You're telling me that you threw away everything you've worked for since New Crystal City--your command, your friends, your life--and you did it, what, voluntarily? It was your idea? Go on, tell me another."

Unfortunately, there is no punchline here. Drift's expression doesn't change.

"Yes, Ratchet, it was my idea." He hesitates a moment, then vents out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his helm. "Look, I know you're going to laugh at me, but I want you to know that I'm being serious here. At Vector Sigma, when I had that near-death experience -- it wasn't just a spiritual awakening, Ratchet. I had a vision."

Edited 2017-11-17 05:01 (UTC)

"Yeah, I remember Vector Sigma, when I had to put you back together after you ran yourself through! I recall vividly, thank you!"

Ratchet stops, drawing a slow vent of cool air into his system.

"You," he says, his voice very deliberate, "let Rodimus blame you for an event that could have caused the brutal murder of the entire ship, strip you of your Autobrand, and exile you because you had... a vision?"

Okay, so Ratchet's not laughing. That doesn't really feel like a good thing right now.

"Yes," he says, with a little more emphasis this time, "and because you know I wouldn't throw any of those things away for a trivial reason, you see how important it was. I know what you're thinking, Ratchet, but it was important. It isn't all clear to me still, but this whole quest, the search for the Knights of Cybertron...it can't happen without Rodimus. He has to stay with the Lost Light. I couldn't afford to put any of that in jeopardy by being selfish."

"Selfish? Selfish? You think--you know what, maybe you should have informed Rodimus that it was so damn important, because after we were done on Luna-1 he had a vote! He had everybody vote to see if they wanted him to stay captain and said he'd step down if a majority voted against him."

Ratchet is venting hard before he stops, something cold detonating in his tanks, and it shows on his face. He recovers after a moment, trying not to think of the look on Rodimus' face when Ratchet told him he'd voted against.

"He won, as it happens, with no help from me. But don't you talk about being selfish. That's his job."

"I did tell him," Drift starts to say, twisting in his station chair to look intently at Ratchet, "he tried to get me to stay, but I told him it was too important -- "

Except the news about the vote hits Drift at a bad angle, catches him off guard, and his optics flicker, and for a moment he looks a little hopelessly dumbfounded.

"What? He had a -- what?" Why the hell would Rodimus risk losing his position when Drift had sacrificed everything to make sure he kept it? Drift rubs his face again, sitting back in the station chair. "I mean -- no one was supposed to find out, anyway, but -- a vote?" Slowly, Drift pulls his hands away from his face and looks back at Ratchet. "And you voted for him to leave?"

"A vote," Ratchet says angrily. "But yeah, a vote to see if he'd stay captain not if he'd get thrown off the ship, and of course I voted against him, he made you leave over something that wasn't even your fault! "

That last bit had risen to a shout without Ratchet even noticing and he catches himself and closes his teeth on anything else he would have said, settling back in his chair.

"I gave him a nice big piece of my mind before I left, too, about how unfair and irresponsible it was, and the fact that you volunteered doesn't change that in the slightest."

The shock fades and Drift's jaw tenses. He shakes his head adamantly. "I wouldn't take no for an answer, Ratchet. He tried to stop me. I told him what he needed to do."

Somebody sure does love taking sole responsibility for things that aren't entirely his fault. Knowing about the vote, though -- that stings, because even Drift is clear-sighted enough to see that that had to have been more about Rodimus's ego than anything else. Drift had told him how important it was that he stay, that he see things through. Maybe that hadn't been enough for him. Maybe he'd felt too burdened with guilt, or...something.

"I can't pretend to know what was on Rodimus's mind when he called for a vote," Drift says evenly, absently clenching a hand around one sword hilt. "But this was never about fairness, Ratchet. It was about doing what was best for the crew. And I still believe it was the right thing to do. That the crew still wants him in place now, months after it happened, that's good -- but how do you think everyone would have reacted if the whole story had come out right after? When everyone was still feeling raw, when we were still holding funerals? The ship would have fallen apart, Ratchet. We would have failed."

Ratchet mutters something unflattering and likely vulgar, though it's not clear precisely at whom it's directed.

"Yeah, I'm sure he put a lot of effort into it," he says, scowling. "I doubt Rodimus knows what's on Rodimus' mind a solid third of the time, but it doesn't matter. I still--"

The words are cut short and Ratchet looks away, his optics dimming as he cycles his vents slowly.

"I still hate that it happened. And sure, fine, Rodimus didn't force you, but I'm still not sorry I came to bring you home."

At least Ratchet all crotchety and cursing is familiar, and weirdly comforting, now that they're no longer locked in a cell or being shot at.

"I'm not sorry either." Drift eyes the little figure, and he doesn't quite smile, but his optics do glow a little brighter. He really isn't. He couldn't have ever let himself even want to go home until Ratchet showed up, and somewhere deep in him, he still has reservations, but...he's ready to go home. "It's not like I was happy to leave, either, but -- I still stand by what I did, Ratchet. If I had to, I'd make the same choice."

"Yeah, fine," Ratchet says, clearly not interested in the slightest in discussing whether or not Drift would leave again if pressed. He huffs air from his vents and settles back.

"...look," he says slowly. "There are--I need to tell you, a lot's happened since you were gone."

Luckily, Drift doesn't really want to discuss it either, so he's glad when Ratchet stops arguing. The arguing had been weirdly familiar, but on this topic, Drift is admittedly getting a little fatigued.

He looks at Ratchet, suppressing any signs of the trepidation building quietly in his spark. That's not a good I need to tell you, he knows Ratchet well enough, but he keeps his optics bright. "Yeah, it sounds like you guys have been pretty busy. Luna-1, huh?"

"Yeah. Luna-1. It's where Chief Justice Tyrest was located. Magnus' boss. Turns out he's completely insane and kidnapped Pharma, who was not dead after Delphi, apparently, to help him build a device to send some kind of signal and extinguish the sparks of everyone constructed cold. We stopped them, but narrowly. And..."

His shoulders tighten but he doesn't look away from Drift.

"The Circle of Light, from New Crystal City--it was empty when we found it but, well. We know where everyone was, now. Tyrest's test subjects for the killswitch.

"A lot of them didn't make it, but some of them did. And Dai Atlas fell in battle, protecting the rest of the survivors after Cyclonus and Whirl broke them all out."

A bewildered uhhh is all Drift manages at the news of all the Tyrest business -- Pharma survived Delphi? And right, the whole cold-constructed killswitch thing...but as soon as Ratchet mentions the Circle of Light and what became of them, Drift freezes, his optics paling.

"Dai Atlas is..." Dead? is what doesn't make it out of his vocalizer. His hands close over the sword hilts at his hips, clenching tight. His face is still, and it's hard to tell if it's anger or sorrow behind it. "How many survived? How did this happen, Ratchet?"

He should have been there. If they'd found the Circle of Light -- he should have been there. He couldn't possibly have, not after Overlord, but maybe if he'd been there, Dai Atlas might still be alive.

Ratchet's shoulders tighten, his optics dim, but he keeps them on Drift's face. He owes Drift that, he knows. He gives Drift the numbers, lets him know how many went to join Thunderclash or set out on their own.

As for Dai Atlas... "Star Saber killed him. Cyclonus took out his optic, but he got away before they could take him out. I think I was still in Pharma's lab, at the time. He--" Ratchet blows a shivery gust of air from his vents.

"Ambulon is dead too. Pharma killed him--he had these stupid new chainsaw hands and he cut him in half lengthwise and left him for me to 'fix.' First Aid was there too, but he made it. He killed Pharma, a little later, so that's... that's one less thing to worry about." Emotion flickers on his face and he cycles his vents roughly.

"A lot of other stuff's happened too, but you don't have to hear it all at once, understand? It's... a lot. We can space it out."

Edited (A BRAND NEW CAR) 2017-11-19 01:48 (UTC)

What else, Drift almost says, but no — he’s still processing this, and he sits back in his chair, his optics going distant. He’s reeling and trying not to show it, but it’s been a long damned day and he can’t quite stop himself from putting the heel of his hand to his forehead. So many dead — so few of them left, and without Dai Atlas...

“Star Saber,” Drift mutters, but it almost sounds more like a snarl, disgust seeping into his voice. Drift’s one to talk about turning traitor, he knows — but he’d turned away from senseless killing, not toward it. His hands tighten almost painfully around his sword hilts, as though that’s all that’s keeping him grounded right now. Finally, he looks back at Ratchet.

“I’m sorry about Ambulon,” he says quietly.

"Me too," Ratchet says quietly. "I'm sorry about Dai Atlas, and the Circle of Light. I know they meant a lot to you."

He subsides for a moment, cycling his vents and letting his optics dim.

"Do you need fuel?" he finally asks, looking over at Drift again. "I should do a systems check, too, just to make sure. Unless you remember when your last maintenance was."

Drift doesn’t say anything to that — what can he say? Yes, they meant a lot to him. They meant something. They weren’t just old friends, they were a symbol. A symbol of what he could become, what he could aspire to. Now there are so few left of them.

“I don’t remember, no,” he finally says after a few moments of silence. He rubs his forehead. “I could use a refuel, though.”

Ratchet pushes up from his station chair and rests a hand briefly on Drift's shoulder, squeezing as he moves past to go fill two glasses and bring them back, handing one to Drift and standing next to his own chair, leaning his hip against it.

"Anything else, kid?"

Drift takes a slow drink, and admittedly it's been a while since he drank anything actually good, because decent energon is hard to come by around these parts. He shutters his optics for a moment while he nurses the glass, quiet and still, but then he sets it down on the dashboard with a clink and sits back in his station chair.

"What else has happened since I left?"

[ open post: drift ]

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