“Are you telling me that he doesn’t remember anything?” Riella backed away from the medical berth warily, still unsure how close she wanted to be to either Ratchet or the diagnostic cables. “How exactly is he going to get his memory back? What happens if he doesn’t?”
She’d only been on Zeta IV for a month, and had been injured and put on light duty less than two days prior, but if they were so short on soldiers, did it really make sense to leave her in the base to guard the Prime? She was a scout, not a bodyguard–and not a doctor. “Look, wouldn’t it make more sense to swap me out with someone who can actually stop him if he tries to leave right now? I may not be able to do much on the front lines, but I can do more out there than I can in here.”
She already knew Ratchet wasn’t going to bend–he’d pointed out her injury right from the start, and if he’d taken the time to notice that in the middle of Prime having a meltdown, he wasn’t going to let her anywhere near the front lines. But being trapped in a makeshift medbay with an amnesiac Prime and no backup seemed like a worse option.
“At least tell me who to pretend to be. I’m not an actor, Doc, and if he’s really–reverted back to pre-war memories, I guess–I’m never going to convince him. I don’t know anything about him, or Cybertron, before the war. Can’t I just tell him that he’s forgotten some things but he used to know who I was?”
“You’re going nowhere near the front lines with that leg,” Ratchet immediately said. “You’ll be more of a liability than help.”
Ratchet glanced down as his wrist-comm exploded with pings. His face twisted with a grimace. “None of this is ideal, scout. I wouldn’t be giving you this mission if there were literally no other choice. All you have to do is stay here and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere near the front lines. He will be waking in the next two minutes.”
Another fresh round of pings came in. Ratchet scowled. “I’m busy,” he snapped into his comm before returning his attention to Riella.
“I don’t care what you have to say or lie about. Just keep him put for the next few hours until someone can relieve you.”
The door burst open. “Ratchet!” A soldier stood there, heavily dented, his gun barrel still smoking. “They need you out there, now!”
“Here,” Ratchet pressed a data chip into her hands, “this is the key to this room. Before Optimus became a Prime, he was known as Orion Pax. You’ll be in no danger from him - he will not hurt you. Make up whatever you need to, it doesn’t matter once we can take him to Iacon Alpha. He’ll forget everything that happened here.”
“I’m going,” the medic snapped. “You can do this, scout. Because right now, you’re the only one who can.”
“Alright! Remember your orders!” he said as he moved to follow the soldier out. “Keep the doors locked and lie your aft off!”
There was no more time. Ratchet left, kicking the door shut behind him.
From the medical slab, there was a groan.
