M.E.C.H. wasn't generous as far as downtime went. Through the entire night, and halfway through the next day, the poking, prodding, questioning and so on didn't end or even take a break. The procedure was exhausting to Ratchet, talking non-stop, anxiously hoping that no damage would be done. In addition to the tiresome process, Ratchet had lost energon from the incision they had made the day before, above his T-Cog, and he hadn't been able to refuel to make up for it. He doubted that they even had processed energon, and if they did, Silas wouldn't allow him to bear down on their resources.

Which meant it wouldn't be long before he was hurling through the symptoms of being underfueled.

Silas wouldn't be happy with that.

Ratchet debated bringing it up, but it never seemed like the right time. M.E.C.H. wouldn't be kind about such a request... Should he even ask at all? He was already on thin ice. Silas didn't have many reasons to keep him alive, depleting recources would only shorten the list.

Perhaps Silas would notice the symptoms, and Ratchet could explain then. Ratchet would definitely be much weaker... That wouldn't go unnoticed.

Waiting until then would be torturous.

Especially with persistent humans poking around your frame.

One was currently prodding at one of his servos, and the seams in his wrist. Ratchet let him fiddle and play with it for a moment, amused that he seemed to think he could figure it out on his own. After the entertainment ran out and the human grew frustrated, Ratchet spoke up, "What are you looking for?"  

The soldier looked up at him. "Were you spoken to, Autobot?" He snapped.

Ratchet gave an offended huff, narrowing his optics. "Do you want to learn Cybertronian biology?"

"You are in no place to be snappy, Ratchet." Silas chatised from the railing sharply. "Remember your position."

Bright blue optics shot a silent glare his way. The human turned away from the stare, now facing the bright screens. Ratchet grumbled softly, letting his helm fall against the floor so he could stare at the ceiling. Despite being expert scientists and nosy scavengers, not to mention professionals in what they do, they certainly had their moments of utter stupidity. Here was a Cybertronian with an expertise in the biology of his kind, and here, they continued to believe they could figure it out on their own.

Ridiculous little creatures.

Ratchet felt the soldier prod at his wrist again, this time with a hand tool.

Useless effort, Pest.

"What is it you are trying to find?" The medic tried again. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, but he felt the human move, and knew that he was glaring under his ridiculous goggles, that all the soldiers wore. It made them look like insects, Ratchet decided. Perhaps when he escaped, he could let them know.

"You have not been permitted to speak."

This again.

Fragging idiot.

"Poking and prodding is getting you nowhere, as is expecting me to behave like a common drone," Ratchet spoke slowly, "Now, what is it you are trying to find?"

A moment of silence passed, in which, the soldier seemingly gave up his attempts to explore himself.

"I don't see how transformation of the hand can have such a wide range of weapons and tools." He admitted. "It seems impossible... Does the hand itself become the gun?"

Finally. "No, no," Ratchet shook his helm, looking down at him. "It merely switches out, but some of the functions within are shared in the variety of tools."

The soldier stared, obviously puzzled and frustrated. "This technology isn't practical." He muttered.

"It isn't technology." Ratchet corrected. "It is biology."

He received a harsh look for that.

Protect the humans, Optimus said. They are pure and bright, Optimus said.

Definitely not all of them.

"I want to see you transform your hand."

That caught Ratchet off-guard. He raised an optic ridge. "You'll have to unbind me, then."

The soldier made a gesture, and suddenly, twenty or more guns were on him, laser pointers all resting around his face and open sparkchamber. Ratchet wasn't surprised. He definitely wouldn't be escaping this way.

"I am going to release this hand. You will perform transformation as many times as I ask, and you will not cause any damage, or you will be destroyed." The soldier briefed him, tone firm and commanding.

Ratchet didn't answer, only waited. The binding on one of his wrists disappeared, but he didn't dare move it, not when he was in such a vulnerable position.

"Transform."

"Into what?" He raised an optic ridge.

"A sword."

More like partial blade.

Ratchet obediently transformed his servo into his blade, sighing in relief at the feeling of moving freely. The soldier watched and took notes, poking at seams curiously. Ratchet was tempted to smash him, but where would that get him?

Nowhere.

Ugh.

"Alright. A gun."

"Don't have one. All I have is a blade and a welder."

A noise of disbelief escaped the soldier. "Is this some sort of trick? To get us unawares?"

Ratchet huffed irritably. "I am a doctor, what am I going to do, shoot the organ right into the 'bot?" He snapped.

"Your attitude is most ridiculous. Perhaps we should zap it right out of you." The soldier shot right back, tone raising with his threat.

The threat went disregarded. "I can show you my welder, but that is it," Ratchet offered dryly.

Primus, some humans...

Jennie was never this irritating.

Jennie...

Primus, he missed her.

She was safe. She was with the others, away from harm. He was grateful for that.

But, her company was greatly missed.

The time they spent together never meant as much to him then as it did now. As much as he hated to admit that he enjoyed sitting watching those ridiculous human movies with her, he did. He enjoyed driving her places, listening to her ramble, helping her with homework. All the little things now seemed so big to him. He had felt this way when she had been taken by the Decepticons, but his concern and worry overrode them. Now, their positions were reversed.

Ratchet smiled at the idea.

Now she was going to be the one rescuing him.

Soldier: Why tf is he smiling