Transformers Fiction.


Inspired by Transformers: Prime episode Inside Job. Best not to read unless you know the series and have seen the episode.

Starscream has ST-3V3, Megatron has T0DD, and you may have heard of D3-R3K, DE-V0N, 404 and 43. Now meet D3-N15, would-be medical assistant to Knock Out...

D3-N15 wasn't anything special. Just a normal eradicon on the Nemesis, which, while not exactly conducive to a long and healthy life, did at least mean regular energon and a relatively comfortable berth.
     It also meant proximity to their medic, Knock Out.
     D3-N15 admired Knock Out. Admired his skill. Admired his air of languid superiority. Admired his paintjob. And particularly admired his... design.
     Now, D3-N15 wasn't at all keen about his job: he always did his best to stay out of missions and much preferred to stay on the sidelines where possible. The others called him a coward. D3-N15 called it 'an enhanced sense of self-preservation'. It had occurred to him a while back that if he had another, useful skill to offer he might be able to be taken off regular duty - as a soldier - and allocated a much safer job aboard the Nemesis. This notion, coupled with his admiration for Knock Out, had led to him studying biomechanics, in the hope that one day he might be able to take his place as the medic's assistant.
     Especially now that Breakdown - Primus keep his spark - was no more.
     D3-N15 had watched while the medic had gleefully and slowly dismembered Cylas, memorising every action, every procedure, every tool. He'd not been permitted to be in attendance for the interrogation of that wretched Autobot, but he hadn't been too far away - certainly close enough to be the first to discover the medic stuck a third of the way through the wall...
     As Knock Out struggled - instinctively but uselessly - to free himself, D3-N15 stared, transfixed, at the smooth, pure white, perfect column of the medic's neck, wanting to touch it.
     Knock Out noticed him and glared in his direction. Remembering who and what he was, D3-N15 stood to attention.
     "Don't just stand there, get after him!"
     But by then the Autobot had vanished, and there was no telling where he might be.
     Knock Out growled in frustration, servos clenched, and glowered at the eradicon. D3-N15 hovered for a few moments, not knowing what to do, as the medic spat out a colourful variety of curses in several different languages - then beat a hasty retreat as he heard the heavy, ponderous pacing of Megatron coming from the opposite direction. He hid around a bend in the corridor, listening in horror as their leader refused to let the medic be freed.
     Then the horror turned to calculation. This part of the ship was deep within the hull, relatively unused - the interrogation room was not somewhere any of the inhabitants felt inclined to visit - so Knock Out shouldn't be subjected to too much humiliation. And at least the bulk of his frame was inside the room, not outside where it could be subjected to abuse of any kind. Not that any of the other eradicons would be likely to do so, at least not obviously: it was dangerous to annoy the medic on this ship. However, the large chamber currently housing the Insecticons wasn't far away, and those brutes were far less civilised...
     D3-N15 shuddered, processor envisaging what could easily happen if one of them found Knock Out helpless...
     He shook his helm, dismissing the image, then determinedly made his way to the rec room to collect a portion of energon.

Knock Out's helm was bowed: he looked horribly vulnerable. He glanced up as D3-N15 approached.
     "What do you want?"
     "I've brought you energon, sir."
     Knock Out stared for a moment, then frowned.
     "You need it, sir."
     "And why should you care?"
     "Because no matter what Lord Megatron thinks right now, we need our medic."
     "And you trying to curry favour has nothing to do with it, of course."
     "Absolutely not, sir." D3-N15 raised the energon container so Knock Out could reach it. After a moment the medic sighed and regarded the eradicon.
     "Hm. And what's the real reason?"
     D3-N15 hesitated for a moment. These were hardly the right circumstances to ask for a job. On the other servo, Knock Out was a captive audience. And he might never get another chance.
     "Sir, I know you're without an assistant right now. I have some skill in field repairs, and have studied you, when I can. I'm offering myself as a candidate to assist you."
     Knock Out snorted. "You really think you could cut it?"
     "I don't know sir. But I'd like to have the opportunity to find out."
     Knock Out was silent, optics on the eradicon's visor. It was true he could do with the assistance. And... the med bay was oddly... lonely without Breakdown. Not that he was looking for a replacement, of course. That was impossible. But...
     It would be nice to have someone to do the heavy lifting. And the cleaning up. And the tedious odds and ends involved in running an occasionally very busy medbay.
     He nodded.
     "Wait until I get free, then we'll see..."
     Spark pulsing happily, D3-N15 set himself to make sure no-one bothered the medic until Megatron decided his services were needed again.

Poor Knock Out...

© JAT 16.10.12