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wyntir_knightTitle: Trust the Numbers
Fandom: Transformers (G1)
Characters: Ratchet, Prowl, mentions of Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe
Prompt: 008 - Weeks
Word Count: 1208
Rating: G
Summary: When Wheeljack is late returning from a mission, Ratchet waits, and gets a lesson in patience and faith from an unlikely source.
Author's Notes: N/A
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
x-x-x
Ratchet stood at the door of the Iacon stronghold looking out at the devastation that had once been the greatest city on Cybertron. Now it was dull and broken after uncountable years of unrelenting war. And somewhere out in that ruin his best friend was making his way back to the relative safety of the base. At least he hoped that Wheeljack was heading back. He wasn’t sure what the inventor was doing out there – the information had been classified beyond Ratchet’s clearance. And ever since their disastrous near-capture a few months back, they had been separated and Wheeljack had been teamed up with a pair of Toughline twins. Ratchet didn’t like it; didn’t like them, in fact, but at least he knew that they wouldn’t let anything happen to Wheeljack. Regardless of what the others said about the Twins’ intents, Ratchet had no cause to doubt them; if for nothing more than the simple fact that he knew they hated the Decepticons more than they hated the Autobots. Also, they seemed to have developed a strange camaraderie for both Ratchet and Wheeljack. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it affection, but there was an alliance there of some sort. And the twins were nothing if not loyal to their few allies. Still, the knowledge that the Toughlines were with Wheeljack and that they wouldn’t let anything happen to him didn’t dispel the worry Ratchet was feeling as he looked out over the barren landscape.
“Ratchet, please step away from the doors,” Prowl said as he stepped up behind the medic. “You are a target. There is an eighty-nine point two five percent chance that you would not be able to move in time to avoid a direct hit.”
“Well that’s an eleven percent chance that I could,” Ratchet replied, never turning back to look at the Enforcer.
“It is only a ten point seven five percent chance. That is too slim a margin to take the risk. We do not have enough medics at our disposal for you to take foolish chances,” Prowl said in that infuriatingly calm voice. He may as well have been talking about the latest meteorological forecast, for all the emotion he presented.
Ratchet continued to stare out at the city, doing his best to ignore Prowl. The strategist refused to take the hint, however, and remained hovering at the door.
“It is illogical for you to remain here,” Prowl said. “Your presence will not increase the likelihood of their return. Nor will it expedite their mission.”
“Not the point, Prowl,” Ratchet replied with an exasperated sigh.
“Then what is the point?” Prowl asked. “Enlighten me.”
“Look,” Ratchet growled as he spun on the Enforcer, looming over the shorter mech. “I don’t need this right now. They’ve been gone for two weeks now and I have no idea where they are or what they’re doing.”
“You are not cleared for that information,” Prowl replied, showing no sign that he was in anyway ruffled by Ratchet’s proximity.
Ratchet shook his head and made a disgusted sound, turning away from Prowl to lean against the door, continuing his vigil on the city below.
“Ratchet you have not yet provided me with an adequate explanation for this,” Prowl said.
“I’m worried, okay?” Ratchet snapped. “He's been gone for far too long, and I'm worried about him. Is that and adequate explanation for you?”
“Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will not knowingly allow anything to happen to Wheeljack,” Prowl replied. “I have endeavoured to take every possibility into my equations. With the Twins guarding him there is only an eight point four five percent chance that Wheeljack will not return successfully.”
Ratchet snorted disdainfully. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Prowl turned to the medic and cocked his head to the side. A confused look passed across his face plate as he processed the question.
“Does it not alleviate your fears?” he asked.
“No. It doesn’t,” Ratchet spat. “Believe it or not Prowl, it doesn’t all come down to numbers. These are real people and you can’t just-.” He broke off and shook his head angrily. “Look, you can throw as many numbers at me as you like, but it won’t change the fact there we are talking about real people who are out there right now. Maybe they’re on their way back here or maybe they’re fighting for their lives. They’re not predictable algorithms. They won’t act in a specific way just because your numbers say they should.”
Prowl came to stand next to him in the doorway and stared out into the ruined city beyond. For a long time he was silent, only the occasional twitch of his wings betraying the thoughts rolling through his processor as he calculated his next action.
“Ratchet, you intend to remain here until Wheeljack returns. Is that a correct assertion?” he asked.
“Unless I’m called away or my shift starts,” Ratchet replied. “Or I learn something that makes me believe that he’ll be all right and back soon.”
“I see,” Prowl replied. “And am I wrong in the assertion that you are a somewhat religious mech?”
Ratchet shrugged at that. “As religious as any surgeon can be. I’ve seen enough apparent miracles in my time that I won’t discount the possibility that there’s more out there than us.”
“And do you trust that I would not knowingly put Wheeljack in danger?” Prowl asked.
Ratchet turned and eyed the tactician carefully.
“Honestly?” he asked.
“Please,” Prowl prompted.
Ratchet pursed his lips for a moment before speaking, obviously choosing his words carefully.
“The truth is that I wouldn’t put it past you to sacrifice a mech or two if it meant winning a battle. ... But at the same time, I know you wouldn’t have sent Jack if you hadn’t needed him wherever he is, and I know you aren’t likely to sacrifice our Chief Engineer.”
“I would not do so without good reason,” Prowl agreed.
“What’s the point, Prowl?” Ratchet asked, his exhaustion and tension showing in his tone. “I mean I’m sure you have a point in asking me these questions.”
“I do. I would ask that you have faith in your friend and in his guardians,” Prowl said, a slight shade of distaste colouring his tone as he mentioned faith. “And I ask that you trust my numbers when I tell you that there is a ninety-five point three six percent chance that they will be returning here, mostly unharmed, before the day is out.”
Ratchet turned to Prowl, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time.
“Did you just provide me with classified information?” he asked.
“No,” Prowl replied. “I provided you with the number that would pull you away from the door and into the safety of the base. What you make of that number is up to you.”
With that, Prowl turned away and headed back into the base proper. Ratchet watched him leave, shaking his head in disbelief. He took one last look at the city before turning away with a sigh. Ninety-five percent wasn’t the hundred he was hoping for, but Prowl was right. He just had to have faith in his friends and the numbers.
Fandom: Transformers (G1)
Characters: Ratchet, Prowl, mentions of Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe
Prompt: 008 - Weeks
Word Count: 1208
Rating: G
Summary: When Wheeljack is late returning from a mission, Ratchet waits, and gets a lesson in patience and faith from an unlikely source.
Author's Notes: N/A
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
Ratchet stood at the door of the Iacon stronghold looking out at the devastation that had once been the greatest city on Cybertron. Now it was dull and broken after uncountable years of unrelenting war. And somewhere out in that ruin his best friend was making his way back to the relative safety of the base. At least he hoped that Wheeljack was heading back. He wasn’t sure what the inventor was doing out there – the information had been classified beyond Ratchet’s clearance. And ever since their disastrous near-capture a few months back, they had been separated and Wheeljack had been teamed up with a pair of Toughline twins. Ratchet didn’t like it; didn’t like them, in fact, but at least he knew that they wouldn’t let anything happen to Wheeljack. Regardless of what the others said about the Twins’ intents, Ratchet had no cause to doubt them; if for nothing more than the simple fact that he knew they hated the Decepticons more than they hated the Autobots. Also, they seemed to have developed a strange camaraderie for both Ratchet and Wheeljack. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it affection, but there was an alliance there of some sort. And the twins were nothing if not loyal to their few allies. Still, the knowledge that the Toughlines were with Wheeljack and that they wouldn’t let anything happen to him didn’t dispel the worry Ratchet was feeling as he looked out over the barren landscape.
“Ratchet, please step away from the doors,” Prowl said as he stepped up behind the medic. “You are a target. There is an eighty-nine point two five percent chance that you would not be able to move in time to avoid a direct hit.”
“Well that’s an eleven percent chance that I could,” Ratchet replied, never turning back to look at the Enforcer.
“It is only a ten point seven five percent chance. That is too slim a margin to take the risk. We do not have enough medics at our disposal for you to take foolish chances,” Prowl said in that infuriatingly calm voice. He may as well have been talking about the latest meteorological forecast, for all the emotion he presented.
Ratchet continued to stare out at the city, doing his best to ignore Prowl. The strategist refused to take the hint, however, and remained hovering at the door.
“It is illogical for you to remain here,” Prowl said. “Your presence will not increase the likelihood of their return. Nor will it expedite their mission.”
“Not the point, Prowl,” Ratchet replied with an exasperated sigh.
“Then what is the point?” Prowl asked. “Enlighten me.”
“Look,” Ratchet growled as he spun on the Enforcer, looming over the shorter mech. “I don’t need this right now. They’ve been gone for two weeks now and I have no idea where they are or what they’re doing.”
“You are not cleared for that information,” Prowl replied, showing no sign that he was in anyway ruffled by Ratchet’s proximity.
Ratchet shook his head and made a disgusted sound, turning away from Prowl to lean against the door, continuing his vigil on the city below.
“Ratchet you have not yet provided me with an adequate explanation for this,” Prowl said.
“I’m worried, okay?” Ratchet snapped. “He's been gone for far too long, and I'm worried about him. Is that and adequate explanation for you?”
“Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will not knowingly allow anything to happen to Wheeljack,” Prowl replied. “I have endeavoured to take every possibility into my equations. With the Twins guarding him there is only an eight point four five percent chance that Wheeljack will not return successfully.”
Ratchet snorted disdainfully. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Prowl turned to the medic and cocked his head to the side. A confused look passed across his face plate as he processed the question.
“Does it not alleviate your fears?” he asked.
“No. It doesn’t,” Ratchet spat. “Believe it or not Prowl, it doesn’t all come down to numbers. These are real people and you can’t just-.” He broke off and shook his head angrily. “Look, you can throw as many numbers at me as you like, but it won’t change the fact there we are talking about real people who are out there right now. Maybe they’re on their way back here or maybe they’re fighting for their lives. They’re not predictable algorithms. They won’t act in a specific way just because your numbers say they should.”
Prowl came to stand next to him in the doorway and stared out into the ruined city beyond. For a long time he was silent, only the occasional twitch of his wings betraying the thoughts rolling through his processor as he calculated his next action.
“Ratchet, you intend to remain here until Wheeljack returns. Is that a correct assertion?” he asked.
“Unless I’m called away or my shift starts,” Ratchet replied. “Or I learn something that makes me believe that he’ll be all right and back soon.”
“I see,” Prowl replied. “And am I wrong in the assertion that you are a somewhat religious mech?”
Ratchet shrugged at that. “As religious as any surgeon can be. I’ve seen enough apparent miracles in my time that I won’t discount the possibility that there’s more out there than us.”
“And do you trust that I would not knowingly put Wheeljack in danger?” Prowl asked.
Ratchet turned and eyed the tactician carefully.
“Honestly?” he asked.
“Please,” Prowl prompted.
Ratchet pursed his lips for a moment before speaking, obviously choosing his words carefully.
“The truth is that I wouldn’t put it past you to sacrifice a mech or two if it meant winning a battle. ... But at the same time, I know you wouldn’t have sent Jack if you hadn’t needed him wherever he is, and I know you aren’t likely to sacrifice our Chief Engineer.”
“I would not do so without good reason,” Prowl agreed.
“What’s the point, Prowl?” Ratchet asked, his exhaustion and tension showing in his tone. “I mean I’m sure you have a point in asking me these questions.”
“I do. I would ask that you have faith in your friend and in his guardians,” Prowl said, a slight shade of distaste colouring his tone as he mentioned faith. “And I ask that you trust my numbers when I tell you that there is a ninety-five point three six percent chance that they will be returning here, mostly unharmed, before the day is out.”
Ratchet turned to Prowl, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time.
“Did you just provide me with classified information?” he asked.
“No,” Prowl replied. “I provided you with the number that would pull you away from the door and into the safety of the base. What you make of that number is up to you.”
With that, Prowl turned away and headed back into the base proper. Ratchet watched him leave, shaking his head in disbelief. He took one last look at the city before turning away with a sigh. Ninety-five percent wasn’t the hundred he was hoping for, but Prowl was right. He just had to have faith in his friends and the numbers.