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Maintenance Issue Subject: Orion
Serial Number: 1513571-192116185135
Reported By: Optimus Prime
Handler Designation: Ratchet
Handler Communications Link Frequency: 136 Gigahertz
Handler Communications Link Number: 18124
Overseer Rank: Prime
Overseer Designation: Optimus
Overseer Communications Link Frequency: 172 Gigahertz
Overseer Communications Link Number: 157184
Priority: Med
Issue Number: 8
Issue Description: Panels (2 total) near the Storage Bay, solely on the inside, show signs of wear and damage, like improper reattachment and folds in the metal that were not present before the last voyage. Upon further inspection, some of the wires’ connections are severed with each other or rewired incorrectly, but there seems to be no significant damage to his processor or functionality as of now, confirmed by Handler Ratchet.
Comments: We have eliminated the possibility of a stowaway or any opposition to the Autobot Commonwealth as of now, but the identity of the perpetrator (if one exists) has not been found. However, our main Space Bridge Technician (Designation: Bulkhead) theorised that it could be due to small faults in the transwarp process, but that has yet to be professionally verified.
Resolution: Replacement parts will be necessary in order to keep up the structural integrity of the Orion, and I will be assigning Ratchet to do a full medical diagnostic just in case something was glossed over the first time around.
Necessary Materials: Standard Wrecker Plating (30x30 mechanometers), Standard Femme Wiring (ETFE and Type EE PTFE specifically, 5 mechanometers each), Mk 984 Cerebro-Processing Unit
Pickup Location: We will be stopping on Regulon IV’s sole moon, where its respective Space Bridge resides in wait for the materials while doing some routine upkeep on the bridge itself to keep the supply route online and as stable as possible.
Optimus groaned internally, flicking the blue brim attachment to his helm absently as he filed yet another report about damage to the ship. It had been happening more frequently since they had embarked on Sector #9 of the Autobot Commonwealth, which branched much further from Cybertron than any of them, bar Ratchet, had ever been before. The younger bots didn't seem to mind the distance all that much, though. Bulkhead—somehow—was still on the fumes, genuinely elated towards everything around him with a curiosity only rivaled by new sparklings, well, so he's heard, as Optimus had never encountered one on his own.
They are an increasingly rare phenomenon at this point, especially on Cybertron, as less bots have decided to be caretakers during such an expansion of other work opportunities, a strange decrease in protoforms and the AllSpark being sent away to keep it out of Decepticon claws. The red and blue mech didn't have much information on what actually caused such a decline, only having hearsay and secondary sources at servo—though Sentinel was more of a third source, if Optimus could say so himself. When he thought about it, if Bulkhead weren't so strong and clumsy, he'd probably be great with sparklings, always so caring and diligent.
The other younger bot in their midst, not so much.
Bumblebee was one of the most norm-defying bots Optimus had ever come across: oddly affectionate and touchy, the action stinging on the edge of setting off pain sensors, non-standard design specs compared to most others—also like the wrecker, so not entirely foreign—and calm. That was the real fusion zone. No matter what misfortune befell him—and it happened startlingly often with the minibot—he remained aloof, even bored on occasion whenever he came out of his most recent stasis lock. ‘Maybe that's what constant medical visits can do to a mech…’ he mused after speaking with Ratchet on his behaviour.
His resident medic, unlike the others, was as professional as he was grumpy, significantly clashing with the previous two’s more lax attitude towards things. He gave his reports—usually a few megacycles late—that were often interlaced with complaints about the young bots or his creaking joints. His main target was the aforementioned minibot, who, according to the older mech, hadn't visited the Medbay once of his own accord, dragged either kicking and screaming or carried while scarily still by Bulkhead, leading him to bug the yellow bot about proper self-maintenance.
These conflicting personality cores, alongside the already stressful burden of real responsibility following a colossal failure on his part, had his fuse hit the preload. He tried to command proper authority in the beginning, correcting Bulkhead and Bumblebee for their flagrant disuse of his designation and Ratchet's general lack of respect for…well, anybot, but he never had the spark to follow through with his pitiful threats of punishment. It didn't help that the minibot looked so similar to…her, that his tanks couldn't process harming him in any way. ‘Neither of them would have hesitated…’ So, eventually, he just gave up trying, electing to ride the sound waves and prove his leadership whenever the opportunity arose.
‘Boss bot' became a common, regretfully accepted reference to him, and now he tensed whenever the two young bots called him by his proper designation, afraid of yet another medical disaster from their smallest. He was sure they still thought well of him despite his non-confrontational core. ‘Right?’ After all, the wrecker did greet him warmly whenever he passed by and the minibot always looked him in the optics—no matter how unnerving that intense stare felt.
They had fallen into a discordant way of doing things, which was more than alright with Optimus. It was something, and the red and blue mech could work with something. Structure was the thing he needed above all else. However, like all things seemed to do around him in some way or another, it all shattered into proverbial fragments with the unexplained damage to the ship.
It started innocently enough: the occasional bend warped back into place or a stray wire peeking out of a panel. Nothing that warranted further action, but, soon after, things progressed to an unignorable degree that forced him into the optics of higher-ups he hadn't been in contact with since…before. They were cordial throughout, but Optimus knew they were judging him, his menial job notwithstanding, He felt it in how they looked at him, the standard cyan optics sneering and pitying in tandem somehow. His inability to find the source of the problem pried open his helm and practically displayed his incompetence for everyone's enjoyment. His unwieldy crew—that crashed his communications on more than one occasion, the culprit usually Bulkhead being the resident messenger of the group—didn't help on that front either.
Easily the worst part was seeing Sentinel again, now newly promoted, like they always wanted, together. It ached and pulsed like open circuitry, sorrow and resentment tangling up in its delicate pathways like dust and debris from the outside. They were of the same rank, but the other commanded more bots than Optimus thought he could physically handle, if they were all like the two he was welded to. The red and blue bot probably wouldn’t have been able to get past the minor phase, if he couldn’t deal with a meagre three. His fellow new prime demanded to be referred to by his new title and barked nonsensical orders at Optimus like it was his first ‘cycle on Cybertron. After that first—of unfortunately many—communications with the dark blue mech, he understood where Bumblebee was coming from in his blatant disregard of authority. It left the acrid tang of denatonium on his glossa. He knew what that kind of unchecked power would do to his already massive ego core, and he was already seeing its effects on him.
It seemed like everything was falling apart around him: the ship, his old connections, and his credibility.
He elected to focus on the one thing he could control at the moment, reeling himself back into the present, previously lost to memory files he'd rather not go through again. He had asked each of them whether they had seen anything off in the previous ‘cycles, like when they'd dealt with a recent femme stowaway, yet all of them, this time, responded with a resolute negative. It didn't give him anything per se, but it checked off an item from the eternally growing list of tasks and responsibilities, every removal automatically supplanted by at least five more.
He had his own theories—categorised from most to least likely and stacked with circumstantial evidence at best—but he still wanted an outside perspective, or three. Starting with the one who knew the ship the best, he went to Ratchet, who, unfortunately, merely grumbled about a nonspecific nuisance that he felt out of the loop on, frustrating and uncharacteristically vague. Bumblebee offered no assistance, as is common with him, vehemently denying any knowledge on the subject despite not being accused of anything, assuming aggressive intent from Optimus that would never be there.
It was Bulkhead that had the most to say on the topic, his vocaliser lagging and stuttering as it often did when he was trying to explain himself or for his friend’s sake. He had a multitude of ideas for the reason, from transwarp anomalies to a subtle form of sabotage from the occasional neutral colony they travelled to, almost as if he were giving Optimus options. He felt like the wrecker knew more than he was letting on, but the prime wasn’t going to press, not that he had the code or constitution to do so.
With nothing conclusive, Optimus just kept an optic out for additional damages and wrote reports when necessary, begrudgingly accepting his fate of constant talks with mechs that looked down on him for his continued failures. He tried not to let his continued frustration seep into how he treated his crew, but he registered that his tone was far sharper than normal, and it showed in the minibot’s hissed responses and the wrecker’s attempts for resolution. Things were regrettably tense, but he was sure they’d get through it with enough time, effort, and maybe solving the mystery of the damages.
He had wanted a fresh perspective on things, but, being entirely honest, Prowl was not the answer to all that was ailing him, so far off the mark that he entertained the idea that Primus was playing games with him. If anything, he made everything worse. They had finally all fallen into their dynamics with each other, as comfortable as they could get, and the cyber-ninja inflated the pressure way back to the danger zone.