Transformers Prime: Result of Impact

Ch.35

It was hours before Silas returned to the room, long after the new shift of soldiers shuffled their way in to continue the torment. Ratchet prayed that their leader was at least considering what he had argued.

Silas had suggested that his usefulness was overestimated.

It could've been a lie to mislead Ratchet into keeping his needs to himself, as to stay on the 'good' side.
But if it were true, he was in even more danger than before.

A living Cybertronian had to be of more use than a dead one. Ratchet knew that was the case. But Silas wasn't convinced.

M.E.C.H. doesn't make mistakes, Ratchet mocked in his helm.

That couldn't be true, as precise and as skilled as his crew was. They were dealing with alien technology, there was no way they'd make it through without setbacks, consequences...

What arrogant beings.

Ratchet twisted his wrist in the restraint, stretching it out as much as he could. The bindings had left marks on his wrists, scraped off the paint and dug into the metal. That could be fixed. Once he escaped, that is. Whenever that would be.

He was staring at one of his restraints pitifully when Silas entered the room, door squeaking as he strode in. Ratchet's gaze immediately went to him.

"Status report."

"Preparing for scans, Sir. Voicebox research was successful."

"Very good."

"Scans?" Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "Is this... 'research', going internal?"

"You weren't spoken to. You will be briefed if we have questions." A solider above him muttered, as he lowered a large scanner down from a platform. 

The medic scoffed, watching the scanner descend to hover above his helm, right at optic level. He stared into it with an irritated look. "You could always start by asking questions."

He received no answer. An annoyed sigh escaped him.

"Beginning the scan."

The machine hummed with activation, the light clicking on and shining right into Ratchet's optics. He flinched and closed his optics, growling irritably. The machine slowly moved down his frame, before traveling back off, completing the scan. "The results should be sending straight to the computer, Sir." The soldier operating the scanner called as he shut it off.

Silas turned and approached the monitors. There was quiet conversation between him and the soldiers working the computers, as they skimmed over the results; Ratchet was unable to make out anything. He watched the scanner be lifted to it's remaining place, waiting for something to be said. There were footsteps, but he didn't acknowledge them until they stopped beside his helm.

"Can I help you, Silas?" He asked sarcastically.

"Your systems are running slower than they were in the first scan."

First scan? "What first scan?" Ratchet turned his helm to glare.

"A scan was administered before you came to when you were captured." Silas explained dryly. "Your systems are running slower now. Provide an explanation."

Oh, you idiot.

Ratchet shifted a little in agitation. "Why do you think?" He snapped. "I'm low on energon, which I've mentioned. I've told you this would happen, haven't I?"

Okay, maybe snapping at the ridiculous human wasn't his best idea.

A prod jammed into his side and a wave of electricity crashed over him abruptly, drawing out a startled cry. Another one passed; the medic whimpered and tugged at his restraints instinctively.