Chapter Text
By this point, D-16 had come to a firm conclusion about his new mining partner: Orion Pax was equal parts troublemaker and airhead.
It was a cycle like any other, the mines humming with the low vibration of drill equipment, the air thick with energon dust, when D-16 noticed Pax had drifted off into one of his famous mental vacations. The miner's optics had gone glassy, and his drill was wandering dangerously close to a section of the shaft marked with bright hazard tags. High-volatility energon deposits. The kind that didn't tolerate careless handling.
"Pax." D-16 kept his voice low but sharp. "Pax, stop."
Orion didn't hear him. He was somewhere else entirely. Probably fantasizing about the Archives again, or whatever grand scheme he'd cooked up this cycle. D-16 broke into a run.
"Orion—"
He closed the distance in three strides, clamped a hand onto Pax's shoulder, and wrenched him backward into a tight hold just as the drill bit nicked the unstable seam.
The explosion wasn't massive, but it was enough.
The shockwave hurled them both across the length of the shaft. D-16 kept his grip, curling his larger frame around Orion's, taking the brunt of the blast and the brutal landing that followed. Several nearby miners caught the edge of the concussive wave; equipment clattered, someone swore, sparks rained from the ceiling.
When the dust began to settle, D-16 looked down at his friend. Orion was damaged, scorched plating, a cracked shoulder joint, but alive. Functional. The relief that moved through D-16's chassis was immediate, and immediately replaced by a white-hot surge of irritation.
He opened his mouth. But, then he saw Pax's face.
Orion was staring up at him with an expression that somehow managed to be stunned, horrified, and deeply apologetic all at once. The face of a bot who had just realized exactly what he'd almost done. It was, objectively, a ridiculous look. It was also the last thing D-16 processed before his optics flickered and went dark.
D-16's optics came back online to pain.
It was the first thing he registered, a dull, pervasive ache radiating from his back through his entire frame. The second thing he registered was his position: lying face-down on a medical berth, plating exposed, the room around him unfamiliar and quiet. He was not in the mines.
He didn't move. Moving hurt, and the awkward position already made something in his processor bristle with discomfort. He lay still instead, and thought.
An hour passed. Maybe more. He had no good way to track it. His thoughts drifted, as they often did when given nothing else to do, toward the leaderboard. He'd been climbing it quickly, faster than most new miners, but this recovery would cost him. By the time he was cleared to return, he'd probably find himself back in tier one. Back where he'd started. Back next to Orion, who had caused all of this, and who D-16 was going to have very firm words with the moment he could move without his back seizing up.
He heard the door slide open. His audio sensors tracked two sets of footsteps: one measured and light, one shorter-strided. A cog bot and a cogless bot. D-16 stayed still, uncertain of the protocol, whether to speak first, or wait.
They came to stand where he could see them without turning his head. The cog bot crouched slightly to meet his optic level, and D-16 found himself looking at a medic with mint-green plating and the calmest expression he'd ever seen on anyone, cog or cogless.
"I am Lifeline," she said. Her voice was quiet, unhurried. "You are in the medical bay. I have been treating you since they brought you in." A pause. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I took an explosion to the back," D-16 said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.
A small smile crossed her face. "That is because you did. You are fortunate to be built the way you are. Most miners in your position would not have come back online this quickly." She tilted her head, something almost sad passing through her expression. "It will still be some time before you return to the shafts."
"Understood," D-16 said. He kept his tone even, though the words settled in his chassis like heavy ore.
"You will be under my care for the duration of your recovery." Lifeline straightened and gestured to the bot who had remained slightly behind her throughout the exchange. "This is my assistant, Ratchet. He will be assisting with your monitoring and documentation."
D-16 shifted his gaze. The bot, Ratchet was unlike any cogless bot D-16 had ever seen. His plating was predominantly white, clean and unmarked, with red accents at his hands and pedes. His helm bore a pale gray crown ridge. He held a data pad with both hands and had been writing in it steadily since entering the room, barely glancing up, his expression set into a scowl that seemed less directed at anything in particular and more like a permanent feature of his face.
There was not a scratch on him. Not a dent. D-16 had never seen a cogless bot like that, all of them had damage, earned or otherwise. The mines left marks.
D-16 looked at him for a moment longer than was probably polite.
How cute.