Chapter Text
Prowl tapped his code to lock his habsuite as he stepped out onto the pavement. A small smile played at the corner of his lips as he glanced up at the clear blue sky. The star’s rays warmed his plating as avions fluttered and whistled their morning songs.
“Good orn, Officer Prowl!”
Prowl sung his helm round. His neighbour and fellow officer had just stepped out as well, his youngling happily seated on his hip. No doubt he was on his way to drop the youngling at school before his shift was due.
“Good Orn, Officer Logique and Techno.” Prowl dipped his doorwings and flared them in greeting, the youngling mimicking his movements awkwardly. He smiled fully as he stepped towards the merging lane and smoothly transformed.
As always, he departed for his shift forty-five breems early.
As always, he stopped at the small café one block from the station to grab his regular morning energon and treat. Being situated across the street from the planet-renowned Helix Gardens and the Palace complex, it was a popular spot not only with locals, but also with the ever-dwindling number of tourists.
Prowl transformed and for a moment stared at the Palace complex. He shook his helm and stepped towards the Helix Café.
The bell above the door tinkled in welcome.
“Good orn, Officer Prowl!” Doppio greeted him with her usual smile as her blue optics sparkled. “Same as always?” But even as she said it, she laughed and turned towards the back of the counter. There, his cube and a small box with whatever treat she had deigned to create this orn was already waiting.
“As always.” Prowl dipped his helm and flared his doorwings in gratitude.
“You know, some orn you really need to try a different brew. Despite the war, we still have a large variety. Don’t know how long though, imports are getting tricky.”
His smile faltered ever so slightly.
The war.
It resided in the back of everyone’s processor, but it was more a bogeyman than a real threat. Because Praxus was neutral.
And she would remain neutral.
Doppio leaned over the counter, pointed chin in her hand as she ran her optics up and down Prowl’s polished frame. “I’ve added that to your bill for the end of the quartex, but I’ll give you discount if you take me on a date.” She winked as her doorwings flicked invitingly.
Prowl couldn’t hide the answering grin. He would, of course, be paying the full amount, and also taking her on a date, but this statement had become a little game between them, and a betting pool between Smokescreen, Barricade and the rest of the precinct who were unaware that they were already seeing each other, perhaps not yet dating as such, but definitely involved. He hated to admit it, but this was a bet he was going to lose. He leaned towards Doppio, doorwings canting forward. “Then I’ll have to make arrangements.”
Doppio bit her lower lip as her grin grew. She pushed away from the counter. “I’m looking forward to it. And I’m telling Smokey so that you don’t cancel on me!” She called before turning her attention to the next customer.
“Then I will lose the shanix required to take you on a date.” Prowl shook his helm, but the easy smile stayed on his lips. Doppio was a nice mech - pretty, friendly, and didn’t mind his introverted personality nor his odd tastes in energon. Despite what most mechs thought, Prowl chose to remain single because of the demands of his job. He’d seen enough relationships fall through the cracks because of the joors and risks involved.
It was perhaps the only reason why he and Doppio had not made anything official.
That and the betting pool. Prowl hated losing.
He exited the café and walked, as always, the remaining block to the precinct as he sipped his energon. He subspaced the energon gels for his usual mid-orn snack. He’d finish the special treat before he started his shift.
The Central Praxus Enforcers Station was located close to the centre of the city not only as a show of power, but also because in the olden orns, it served as a barracks for the palace guards. The building itself was built to mimic the domed palace where the lords of Praxus still resided and governed. The Dome was supported by large columns, while top floors had sturdy metal finishes, the ground floor was encased in sheets of hardened crystal and metal supports.
Praxians dipped their doorwings respectfully and cleared out of his path as he headed towards the steps leading up to the main entrance. He finished Doppio’s special treat just as he entered the grand hall and discarded the empty cube. To the left mechs were lined up, some making a ruckus as they were processed, while others merrily waited in annoyed silence.
“Good morning, Officer Prowl.” The receptionist bobbed his helm at Prowl and continued setting his desk in order for shift changeover, immune to the constant commotion and flow of mechs. “Captain Raptor is waiting or you in conference room B2.”
“Thank you, Trapper. Have a good orn.” Prowl updated his calendar to ‘busy’ and headed towards the elevator, spark thrumming in his case. A small frown tugs at his optic ridges as his face slid into a neutral façade. It was odd for the Captain to request a meeting like this. If it was an emergency he would have been alerted over their special ESU frequency. His ATS whirred to life as it started spouting possible threats, but Prowl dialled it down. There was no reason to use it just yet and its use would only drain his energon unnecessarily. He was keenly aware that the precinct had begun rationing the energon available to its officers, not enough to be of concern, but enough to pique interest.
It meant the war was intensifying to such a level that it was influencing trade across the planet. He had added that to his file of ‘possible future scenarios’. Pity no one bothered to hear them. Least of all the Palace. Perhaps if it had been some other mech than the illegitimate offspring of a secondary duke someone might have taken the time to listen and prepare.
He drew a deep vent as he reached conference room B2, the unease in his tank growing as he discovered only his captain in the room, brooding in front of the holographic display. Perhaps this was to discuss team tactics? As tactical commander of the Praxian Emergency Service Unit, he was often requested to assist with training schedules, however at least some of the team members were present. Prowl cleared his vocaliser. “Captain?”
“Ah, good morning, Prowl. How are you? Lock the door, please.” Captain Raptor smiled tightly as he beckoned Prowl in. A moment later the holographic display of Praxus and her borders blinked into existence.
Prowl sauntered round the table, his optics taking in the details until they flickered to his Captain. He raised his doorwings in a silent request for information.
Raptor blinked and drew a deep vent, doorwings settling behind him in a cant that belied that the old mech was worried. “As you know, Praxus has no militia of her own. She has only enforcers.”
Prowl cocked his helm to the side as he came to stop next to Raptor. “Affirmative, sir. Militia can be viewed as a possible threat and unnecessary in a neutral state.” Prowl curbed his curiosity as he waited. Whatever Raptor wanted to say, he would do so in his own time. The old mech never danced around the subject with Prowl.
“Hmmm.” Raptor pressed his lips together and drummed his fingers on the edge of the display table. After a moment he continued. “I’ve recalled Smokescreen and Barricade. I know it’s their leave, but I want our unit on permanent standby. I’m also mobilising our secondary units to be on standby. You will need to sync your tacnet with theirs.” He studied the holograph.
Prowl studied his captain through narrowed, calculating optics. Praxus rarely had any events that required the use of PESU, and thus there was only one primary unit stationed at the Enforcers head office. The secondary units, though well-trained, were usually kept as reserves only in the case one of the primary team members were injured or off-duty for more than an orn. To mobilise those units means something had happened to change the status quo. He shifted to face his captain fully. “Sir, if I may ask, what recent developments have occurred for us to raise our alert level?”
Raptor was silent for a few clicks. “Flyover by the Decepticons.”
Prowl flicked his doorwing. “Permission?” Flyovers were forbidden over Praxian airspace, however, as a Neutral state, any mech, whether Decepticon or Autobot, could request permission to enter. What was bothersome though, was as late there had been more and more flyovers by Decepticons without the necessary permissions. At first they had sounded the air raid alarms and armed the city defences, but as these flyovers continued with little interruptions – usually the offenders were a single seeker or a trine – they had only sounded precautionary warnings and had warned them to get out of neutral airspace unless they obtained the necessary permissions. The mechs had all turned and left once these warnings were issued. Praxus wasn’t concerned. After all, what could one mech do?
Raptor rolled his shoulders and popped his neck. His doorwings flicked forwards and back. He and Prowl were among those who warned against complacency, but it fell on deaf audios. Raptor vented slowly. “No permission, and when we tried to hail them, they ignored us, did a full turn over Praxus, and headed to the south-eastern border.” He highlighted the map to reflect their flightpath.
Prowl’s ATS whirred to life and this time Prowl allowed it. A myriad of possibilities flew through his processor, mapping different scenarios and outcomes. The problem was there were simply too many variables. He throttled down, his focusing returning to Raptor. “Sir, why are you telling me this and not the Chief?” He asked softly as he studied the holographic map with the highlighted flightpath.
Raptor wiped a hand over his face and down his neck, his doorwings drooping for just a split-click before he caught them. He straightened. “The Chief and Grand Lord believe the threat to be minimal and won’t raise the threat level of the city and the enforcers in general. Pity you don’t have a good relationship with your sire…” He scratched his chin before pointing to the south-eastern border again. “However, I am in charge of the PESU members, and thus have full control of their level of readiness. I want us to draw up a contingency plan. There has been one too many flyovers and it’s working on my neural net. They’re up to something.”
Prowl drew a deep vent and released it slowly. That would explain the odd summons – his superiors would no doubt view this as a possible act of aggravation if they raised their readiness and drew up a contingency plan. And as a state, they were dead-set on aggravating neither Autobots nor Decepticons. Yet that didn’t make either group less of a threat if resources were dwindling. As to his sire, the mech barely acknowledged him. There would be no help from that avenue. “What do you expect?”
“I’m honestly not sure, I just got this feeling that Megatron won’t let us in peace, not with the way the war is going. Even though Praxus censers the news, word has slipped through that resources are dwindling for both sides, and they are seeking alternatives. I’m also sure you’ve noticed our rations?” He shook his helm. “As the seekers exited our territory at the south-eastern borders, I’m thinking that he might have an army unit based there. We’ll be easy pickings if they do decide to attack.”
Prowl narrowed his optics as the ATS spit out possible steps to take to verify the data. “You have recalled Smokescreen and Barricade to Praxus, sir?”
Raptor gave a curt nod, his amber optics keen as he watched his tactical commander.
“Belay the order and let them divert to the south-eastern border. Barricade is skilled at scouting, and if needs be Smokescreen can provide cover from a distance. Let them determine if there are Decepticon movements across the border.”
Raptors optics blurs as he focuses internally. “Done.”
Prowl nodded and folded his arms across his chassis. “We will focus on readying Praxus and our units. Our automatic defence units are on standby and can be activated by a single word from either the Chief or the Grand Lord, but I do not want to bargain on the automated systems. I’m not as skilled a gambler as Smokescreen.”
Raptor huffed a chuckle. “I will talk to Chief so that we could maybe run a drill. Just to see that the electrics are still fine.”
“Good.” Prowl turned towards the holographic map and jacked into the console. The screen flickered until the city proper was shown. He highlighted the districts and where the residences and precincts were located of the secondary PESU units.
“I have sent out an order that our units carry full-kit in subspace as from now. I will also highlight escape routes out of the city. Should the Decepticons decide to attack, we will send the population towards the mountains in the north-west. If I had to make a choice, I would place my shanix on the Autobots.”
“You think they have the firepower to defeat the Decepticons?” Raptor asked as he traced the escape routes.
Prowl raised his chin as he ran through the probabilities of his ATS. “Negative. They have the motivation, and they have the Prime. The will to win can be of more importance than the ability to win.”
Bluestreak grinned as he gave his carrier a hug, eager to join his friends on the playground.
“Alright, sweatspark, I’m late I need to go.” His carrier absently kissed him on the helm. “If I’m not in time to pick you up, just take the transport. I’ll have dinner sorted. Now hurry along, I’m going to be late.”
Bluestreak stepped back as he watched his carrier transform and merged back into the traffic.
“Love you, too.” Bluestreak gave a quick wave as he watched his carrier merge into traffic. Maybe they’ll have time to go to the Gardens on the orn-end. Maybe. If they didn’t have work to do. His doorwings drooped low, but then a familiar voice drifted over the playground. He spun round and sprinted away, tugging at his small pack as a smile blossomed over his rosy cheeks. “Hey Techno!”
“Heya Blue!” Techno gave his best friend a hug as he grabbed Bluestreak’s hand. Together they ran into the large classroom. Techno released him and hovered at the door, little white doorwings swinging happily as he watched Bluestreak head to their desk. “Come on, hurry up! Only a few more breems to play!”
“Okay, okay! It’s my turn to be ‘it’ so go outside and hide. I’ll count to fifty then come.” Bluestreak threw his pack underneath his desk as his small doorwings tracked Techno running away to tell the rest of the gang. Bluestreak smiled. Techno was his best friend, and he was always the first at school, nearly a joor early, because his carrier and sire were both in the Enforcers.
They had already decided that when they grow up, they’d bond and be enforcers too.
He raced to the window on the opposite wall to the courtyard. He always counted from this spot, because from here he could see the Helix Gardens, and the Palace, and the Praxi River. He grinned as he looked at it. Maybe he’d be a palace enforcer one day. Then he could see the Gardens all orn.
He really hoped his creators had time this orn-end.
Leaning against the windowsill, the star’s rays bright on his face, Bluestreak began counting.
One…two…three…
Prowl subspaced the last of his PESU gear and slammed the depository closed, watching as the lights blinked green then red. Secured.
He traced the edge of the keypad, processor spinning. If the Decepticons were planning an attack on Praxus, the city defenses would only be able to hold them off for six joors. With the assistance of the enforcers and palace guards, that time might be extended to eight joors. If they managed to get a signal through to the Autobots, they should be able to arrive within two joors.
He did not know the Prime personally, but he had analysed his movements, his speeches, his approaches. The Prime was honourable and he was smart, but he was too careful. He would rather defend than attack. That more than anything else might be their downfall.
Prowl shook his helm. The Prime required a good offensive tactician, and soon. He headed up the steps that would take him to the back-end of the lobby. He would need to talk with Logique about changing shifts, seeing as the carrier was also a reserve unit for his PESU. The remainder of his units were all mobilised and ready should there be any sign of Decepticon manoeuvring. They had already checked in and confirmed they carried full gear. Barricade and Smokescreen were thirty breems out from the border, and should be able to provide him with an update in forty-five breems.
He reached the lobby and paused. There was an odd sound. He flared his doorwings as the high-pith sound of a lone seeker engine in distress registered. He growled and dashed towards his unit member. “Officer Logique, get ...”
He never got to finish his sentence as a blinding blue-white light flashed through the front doors and windows. He threw his arms up to shield his face from the sudden onslaught. The next moment he was thrown off his feet by a thundering, invisible wall and tossed into complete darkness.
“Good orn, Bluestreak!”
“Good orn, Teacher Axiom!” Bluestreak spun round and smiled brightly, his doorwings dipping in respect and greeting. He leaned back against the sturdy wall as he watched Teacher Axiom unpack his teaching pads and continued…“Forty-two...Forty-three….”
The room suddenly lit with a blinding white light, sucking all the colour from it. Bluestreak froze as Teacher Axiom’s optics widened and doorwings flared. All at once a deafening noise exploded from all around him and then searing hot heat engulfed them, followed by screams and pitch-darkness.
“I think my comms are down.” Smokescreen turned to Barricade, his ridges drawn low over his optics as he tapped his audial. A cloying coldness crept into his spark and he rubbed at his chassis. They were in their small two-seater surveillance shuttle, flying low and fast towards the south-eastern border to scout out possible Decepticon movement. Not the way he envisioned ending his holiday.
Primus he hoped this was a useless excursion. Then maybe they’d get some extra leave to make up for it…maybe. The cloying coldness turned to small pin-pricks of pain and he shifted in his seat. Urgency filled him and he fluffed his armour. “Can you hail Prowl? Or Captain?”
Barricade’s optics unfocused briefly and he shook his helm, lips pressing into a tight line. He throttled back on their speed. “Hail headquarters.” He grumbled as he adjusted a few more settings on the craft, then pointed at the external communicator. He pressed a hand to his chassis.
Smokescreen hesitated, his digits hovering just above the uplink. “If the Decepticons are listening into air traffic, they might catch this.”
“Do it, but keep it brief. Less than twenty-five clicks.” Barricade ordered as he pointed the nose of the craft lower. Flying at lower altitude would increase their lead time to their target, but at least it will keep them under radar.
Static filled the line and Smokescreen switched to every frequency he could think of. “No success.” Smokescreen swallowed as he bit his lower lip. A sharp pang in his spark had him hunching forward. He braced himself against the cockpit dashboard. “I’m feeling weird.” He admitted and gently brushed the tips of his digits over his spark.
Barricade kept his optics focused solely on the console, then flared his plating. “As do I.”
“Shall we abort the mission?” Smokescreen asked softly and looked at Barricade. It was a gamble. Everything could be fine at Praxus and they could simply be in a space outside the boundaries of communications. Then again, it was vital that they get a handle on the Decepticon’s movements. If the Cons were infringing on Praxus’s borders, they would need to know to make adequate preparations and remind the Decepticons that they were a neutral state.
The thrum of the ship’s engines were the only sounds for breems, then Barricade increased the throttle speed and pointed the nose up. “Abort the mission.” He turned the nose of the shuttle to head back to Praxus. “Approximate ETA,” he checked the fuel and ran the calculations, “one joor. Keep hailing.”