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“This is a coordinated setup,” Megatron accused. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to reason with a group of crew members high on engex?
Rodimus grinned and patted his arm, nearly stumbling because of the engex. “Didn’t Rang say something about… integrity, yeah, integrity! The first rule of joining the Autobots is integrity, Megs. You have to follow through.”
“Although I believe his exact words were ‘trust your comrades,’” Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “—But you win. Tomorrow only.”
The next day, Megatron arrived early for bridge duty because Rodimus was always at least half a breem late for the morning shift. After Ultra Magnus complained seven times, the grey tank reassigned all of Rodimus’s duties to afternoons and late nights. This changed the captain’s work from nodding off in the control room in the morning to being overly energetic at night due to sleep-cycle dissonance. Although sometimes the two larger mechs would discover during random footage checks that Rodimus was actually gaming online with Drift, it was still better than him slumped in the captain’s chair recharging.
The reliable first officer was already in the captain’s office recording the day’s navigation log. Megatron walked in and nodded in greeting.
“Good morning, Mags.”
The first officer crushed the datapad in his hand.
Megatron explained resignedly, “Sorry, I should have warned you first. My oversight. Just another Rodimus prank.”
Ultra Magnus refreshed his widened optics and stiffly tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I see. Understood. I will restore the lost data later.” He paused, as if summoning immense courage. “…Megs.”
“I think you may still not understand,” Megatron said. “Only I have to do this. Typical Rodimus style—you know how it is.”
The first officer turned away even more awkwardly to fuss with the console. Megatron sighed. This ship, this life!
During duty, Tailgate came to find him. “Cyclonus and Whirl got into another sparring match. It seems… a bit serious.”
Megatron looked up from his work. “Slow down, little one.”
Tailgate: 🥺
Tailgate recovered. “Uh… Whirl shot off half of Cyclonus' shoulder armor, and Cyc chopped off the arm Whirl was holding his gun with.”
Megatron: “This is what you call ‘a bit’ serious?”
In short, Megatron followed Tailgate to the scene and forcibly separated the two. To prevent the already emotionally unstable pair from redirecting their aggression toward him, Megatron shut off his vocalizer and silently carried one flying unit per shoulder to the med bay with Tailgate.
Ratchet put down his datapad. “Ha! I knew my peace wouldn’t last a full day.”
The medic crossed his arms. “Beating each other up like this? Impressive. Didn’t anyone try to stop them?”
“They were already like this when I arrived,” Megatron spread his hands. “Ratty,” he added.
“Rodimus told me to say it,” Megatron explained rapidly before Drift could leap up and cut off his hand.
Ratchet sneered. “Hah. You people really love messing around.”
Megatron looked at the two badly damaged warriors on the operating table and decided not to argue about how Rodimus’s solo prank somehow still ended up on his head.
“If you’re done, don’t stand around in the way,” the medic waved a wrench impatiently. “Out you go, Meggy.”
Megatron finally understood Ultra Magnus’s earlier awkwardness.
The captain went to the lab to ask for the last cycle’s fuel usage and quantum engine maintenance report.
“Just a reminder,” Megatron knocked on the lab door. “Percy, last cycle’s report hasn’t been sent yet.”
The microscope raised an optic ridge but said nothing.
Megatron was about to ask who was tuning a high-frequency sonic weapon in the ship, then he realized it was Brainstorm screaming.
“Consider everyone’s audio receptors, Stormy,” Megatron said.
Brainstorm stopped screaming. Brainstorm fainted.
Perceptor quickly caught his partner and frowned. “It will be sent within the day.”
Megatron wisely left.
It wasn’t until the afternoon that the flame-painted speedster came online from a deep recharge cycle, wobbling into the captain’s office under the lingering effects of unabsorbed engex and collapsing into his personal captain’s chair.
“How was your recharge cycle, Roddy?”
Rodimus fell out of the chair, suspecting he was still dreaming. Only when he clambered back up from the floor did his hazy memory remind him of the punishment he had imposed on Megatron. Scrap—he was already starting to regret it.
“Careful, Roddy.” The larger mech steadied him and leaned down, speaking in a low voice near his audio receptor.
Primus, Rodimus’s spark was about to leap out of his spark chamber. He regretted his impulsive idea from yesterday—at this rate, he would die of spark overdrive in less than a cycle.
The first Autobot captain in history to die from lifting a stone only to drop it on his own foot, Rodimus thought bleakly—dying while still nothing more than a pathetic ordinary coworker to his crush.
“Well, You won’t be the last,” Megatron said.