Chapter Text
Ratchet sighed for the third time in the past eight minutes.
The frequency was a bit concerning to Prowl, who couldn’t do much more than sit there and wait patiently as Ratchet poked and prodded around his processor. Some of the cabling he could see out of the corner of his vision, but most of it was out of sight alongside Ratchet, who stood uncomfortably close between his doorwings.
“That bad, huh?”
Wheeljack saved Prowl from risking asking the question himself from his safer distance near Ratchet’s workstation. Watching alongside him was the worried visage of Chip, his wheelchair having been set down on top of the workstation for a better view of the ongoings of Prowl’s repair.
“Well, there’s no saving this battle computer,” Ratchet sighed for a fourth time, pulling one of the connectors from somewhere within Prowl’s head with an electric snap that sent phantom tingling across his plating. “Those Decepticons really did a number on it, and the remote hacking only corrupted it further.”
“I’m so sorry.” Chip wrung his hands in his lap, guilt overtaking the previous worry. “I thought- it was- I was trying to help-“
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Wheeljack consoled the young human, reaching a hand down as if to pat him on the back before remembering this was a human and not a particularly small minibot and adjusted his approach and strength accordingly, although a bit awkwardly. “You did what you thought was right, and you saved Prowl. No doubt the battle computer was toast when it got damaged, but it held on just long enough for you to access it. You did great.”
“Wheeljack is correct.” Prowl could feel Ratchet disconnecting the dozens of cables, signaling it was nearing the end of the exam and that he could probably at least talk again with minimal grouchiness from the medic. “The Decepticons were forced to retreat because of your actions, and you did save my life. My battle computer was already compromised before you took over, and I’d rather have you in my head any day over being left unarmed before the enemy- or worse.”
“Well, right now you’re unarmed for the foreseeable future.” The last of the connectors were unplugged, and Ratchet began reattaching the cranial plate to the back of Prowl’s helm, the vibration of the tool making his denta rattle unpleasantly. “Battle computers don’t exactly grow on trees, as the humans say, and I don’t have any spares on hand.”
Prowl figured that would be the case. Battle computers, like most things that went into processors, weren’t exactly meant to be tampered with. Their failure rates were less than 1% for the entirety of Cybertronians, and had barely changed even with the war, so it wasn’t expected for Ratchet to have any on hand. Well, unless he’d salvaged one from a corpse, but Prowl didn’t know how comfortable he’d feel about something from a dead bot’s processor being in his own helm.
It meant he’d be stuck on deskwork… probably until the end of the war. Prowl himself wanted to sigh at that.
As soon as Ratchet stepped away, Prowl flapped his doorwings, shaking away the feeling of too close! from his sensors and recalibrating them to open air. It was always a little weird having someone between his doorwings, but it was a sensation he’s gotten sort of used to out of necessity. It wouldn’t do to whack the medics or someone trying to look over his shoulder with his doorwings out of reflex. Most of the Autobots were good at not messing with them, though, which he appreciated, but sometimes the proximity was necessary for his continued functioning.
“I’ve isolated the battle computer functions, but we’ll be needing to remove it entirely if we don’t want to risk corruption to nearby parts,” Ratchet was saying, rolling up the cabling with well-practiced loops. “It’ll take some time for me to gather all the equipment for the operation, but a few days shouldn’t cause you any problems. Take it easy in the meantime. If you start feeling dizzy, sluggish, or otherwise weird, do come back before I have to scrape you off the floor.”
“I will.” Prowl was relieved to finally get up and move, forced to sit still with his joints locked to prevent any unnecessary movement while Ratchet had been poking around in his processor. He had a few minor dents and scrapes from the scuffle, but Ratchet had said they weren’t serious and will resolve themselves. Still, Prowl felt a little banged up and tired from the excitement from the day, and was eager to lay down in the dark comfort of his berthroom away from all the noise for a little while.
“Hey, Prowl.”
Prowl barely made it down the hall when Wheeljack caught up to him, leaving Ratchet and Chip discussing the greater intricacies of battle computers in the medbayl. Prowl paused, waiting for Wheeljack to finish his approach, and then waited some more as the engineer started to fidget in place.
“Uh… listen,” he began, his tone a touch nervous. His fins cycled through several different colors as he struggled to find the correct words to say. Prowl patiently waited for the engineer to collect himself, doorwings flicking to sense the nearby area and coming back with an all-clear. At this time of day, the others were most likely on patrol or off doing whatever they do in their private time, so their conversation would be relatively private.
“I could build you a new one.”
Prowl blinked, focusing on Wheeljack.
“A battle computer. I can build you a new one.” Wheeljack clarified with an anxious uptick in his tone. “I know I don’t, uh, have the best reputation sometimes, but waiting around for Ratchet to source one could take the rest of the war, and we need you. What if the Decepticons invaded the Ark? You’d be a sitting duck! I can build you a new one- it’d be faster and better than any old model Ratchet manages to dig up, and-”
“Alright.”
Wheeljack’s fins locked, lit-up, in a near white color as he stared at Prowl uncomprehendingly.
“I- huh?”
Prowl knew where Wheeljack was coming from. He tended to build things that blew up. Or malfunctioned. Or did the opposite of what it was supposed to do. But he also built- with the help of Ratchet- several functioning Dinobots. Hiccups in a project that technical were bound to happen, but in the end he had been successful in building usable, semi-reliable assets and new recruits to the Autobot cause in a way never seen before, leaving the Decepticons scrambling as they tried to find a counter.
But this wasn’t a weapon or a shrinkray or half a dozen robotic dinosaurs. This was something that was going to go inside Prowl’s processor. He’d seen him build complete processors- battle computers included- for the Dinobots and none of them have failed yet. Wheeljack was good at what he did even if he did get a little ahead of himself sometimes, but Prowl trusted him to be careful and precise when it came down to the safety and wellbeing of his fellow Autobot.
There was also the fact it would bring Prowl back into active duty a lot faster than waiting for a different battle computer to arrive. With how scattered the Autobots were currently, they needed all the help they could get. Benching Prowl permanently would be detrimental at this stage. If this happened after reinforcements arrived, it would be an entirely different matter. But this wasn’t what happened, and losing Prowl from the field without any support from regrouping Autobots would leave a significant gap the Decepticons would undoubtedly notice.
Wheeljack wanted to help, and was in a position to do so. And he was so earnest about it. How could Prowl say no to that?
“Speak to Optimus and Ratchet about it first,” he continued as Wheeljack gawped at him. “But let them know you have my approval. If they refuse, please don’t try to force the matter.”
“I-uh, alright!” Wheeljack recollected himself, straightening up to full height. “I won’t let you down! Ohhh, I can-“
He turned and scurried down the hallway towards his lab, mumbling to himself as he ran through the various plans. Prowl watched him go with mild amusement, his doorwings flicking before he too left towards his own room. He hoped the others agreed. It was certainly beneficial if Prowl was back in operation, and he trusted Wheeljack not to blow him up. Nothing about a battle computer had the potential to blow up, he was pretty sure of. It would be fine.
What was the worst that could happen?