Chapter Text
The Seeker stared at the thing, the- the egg, the medic Cascade, had said it was. He pushed the gently glowing thing away from him, staring at it fearfully.
"Your young one is in there. A new-sparked Seeker," the medic said. "It needs you. Needs to hear you talk to it, needs your comfort. It can hear you through the shell, and will hatch soon."
The Seeker just shook his head, optics wide and fearful, overbright. "No- please- don't make me- please just take it away!"
The medic hesitated, then nodded. "If you're sure-"
"Please!"
And so the medic approached slowly and gently took the egg in his servos, murmuring to it gently as he carried it from the room. It wasn't as if he could blame the carrier, after what he had endured. All the same, it was a sad thing, all the way around. Neither carrier nor Creation had done anything to deserve this.
***
Cascade, unfortunately, had other duties and patients and so could not hover over the egg and care for it as it needed, so into an incubator it went, and instead of a responsive carrier to talk to it and sing to it, with all the little chirrs and chirps, it had a recording that played on repeat, unresponsive to the little questioning chirps and the little sounds of upset that growing Seekerlings make. It had to be spoken to, or its processor wouldn't develop properly, but in the circumstances, this was the best that could be done.
At first, the little one became ever-more distressed when his cries seeking the comfort of his carrier - something the recording could not provide - went unnoticed by anyone. As time went on, the little one within the shell became still much of the time. What was the point in crying for comfort when nobody would answer? No one ever had, after all. It wasn't just the cries for comfort that fell out of the little one's repertoire, however. As time went on, the little questions stopped too, and then the cries of joy, and finally the little one's burbling stopped entirely.
The little one within the egg was so silent that even the assistant that monitored the eggs periodically had to do a scan each day to determine the sparkling's status. Finding that it appeared to be fine (even if the glow of the little spark wasn't as bright as the medical staff would have liked), the assistant simply made a note and moved on.
When the newspark began scrabbling weakly at the inside of the shell to no avail, Cascade happened to have dropped by to check on it. He felt responsible for this one, even if he shouldn't have felt any more responsible for this one than for any of the rest. "Hey, little one, there you go, you can do it," he encouraged gently.
The little one just kept scrabbling ineffectively. The medic frowned and ran a scan, his optics narrowing. "Looks like you probably need a little help, hm?" he asked. He took a tool from the supply kept in this room, then rested a servo on the egg gently. "It's okay. I'm going to help you." And then he carefully pierced the shell before pulling a piece of it away, even as he commed an assistant to prep the spark support he could already see this little one would need if it was to survive. With the assistance hatching, however, the little one, rather than proceeding to help himself out of the egg, only cringed as far away from the tools as possible.
"It's okay little one. I'm just helping you out of there," the medic soothed. It wasn't long before he held the little one in his servos. Its tiny frame was so weak, almost limp. A moment later, the assistant arrived and they quickly got the little one hooked up. He protested at the spark support, bleating weakly, but his field flaring slightly with fear and anger.
"I know, I know, it doesn't feel good little one, but you have to have it so you can grow strong," the medic crooned.
"You know this one won't ever be able to maintain its frame-size," the assistant said, giving the medic a look. "We really shouldn't even be-"
"That's enough," the medic said firmly, stroking the tiny helm with one digit.
The assistant subsided, shook his head, and began cleaning up.
***
A few cycles later, the medic stood over the bassinette, looking down at the tiny Seekerling. Its undersized frame was almost obscured by the sensors and connections that kept it alive. No carrier hovered to fuss over it, and no sire stood nearby protectively, only the medic stood vigil with the little one as it struggled to live. An assistant stopped to rest a servo on the medic's shoulder. "You know that with no one to claim it we can't keep it on spark support. The longer you wait, the harder it will be."
The medic shrugged the assistant's servo away without responding, racking his processor for a solution he hadn't already tried as he stroked the tiny helm. It was about all that could be gotten to of the little one. Suddenly, his servo halted, a thoughtful look crossing his features, then a slightly tentative smile crossed his features. "Hang on, little one. We'll make a way for you," he whispered before leaving, warning a colleague who specialized in newspark processor coding that he was coming to discuss something with him.
***
Frequency stood, his servos pressed against the clear cover of the bassinette the protected this tiny newspark who was also a cassette. Something about the situation didn't make sense in his processor, but he couldn't have explained why. His vents came raggedly. Could he do this? His coding demanded that he should, that this tiny cassette needed a host, but that thought only started again the parade of memories, of cassette after cassette deactivated in front of him. This one, smelted alive, that one crushed beneath another mech's pede, yet another one slowly dismembered until he had none left. Twelve cassettes there had been in all, and one by one they had all been deactivated as part of his 'training.' His spark was tattered and his docks were empty. If he took this cassette, named it his own, tied it forever to his own spark... surely it would only meet the same fate. He peeled his servos off the clear top of the bassinette and staggered back a pace. No. He would never again do that to a cassette, no matter how difficult it was to deny his own host coding.
"The little one needs you," Cascade said from where he had been leaning against the doorframe.
"No- I- I can't! Can't keep them safe!" The young host mech said shakily, even as he turned to face the medic. When had he gotten there? How long had he been watching? "I can't do that to- any more. Never again!"
"It cannot survive on its own. Its spark is too weak. With the support of a bond with you, it might have a chance," Cascade said gently.
"Its creators-"
"Its carrier didn't want it. Wouldn't keep the egg it hatched from. There is no known sire." The medics voice was calm and even, not pushing, just explaining. "It's alone. Completely alone."
"But if I take it, it'll deactivate!" He said, almost hysterically.
"Nobody will take your cassettes from you here. You are safe. Any cassettes you take on will be safe." Cascade soothed.
"I can't!"
"You have two more cycles to make your decision. Then the spark support will be turned off. If there's nobody to help..." he shrugged and turned, leaving the young mech staring after him.
***
Frequency didn't leave the room. He spent much of the time sitting on the floor, occasionally glancing up at the bassinette. It wasn't the only bassinette in the room - this was the nursury, after all, but he knew exactly which one it was in, even when he couldn't see the little one. How could he not, with that desperate cassette coding calling to his spark, demanding he accept it, prompting his host coding to press insistently at his processor?
The medical assistants that cared for the newsparks here did not press him, did not speak to him. They simply went about their business as if he were not there.
***
The second light-cycle ended, and the third began, and Cascade stood, looking down at the young carrier mech. "Well?"
Frequency looked up at him, not quite registering the question for a moment, then nodded mutely. He could fight his coding no longer. It wouldn't last but for a short time, at least, he would be happy. and maybe... maybe this time he wouldn't fail his cassette.
Cascade nodded and opened the bassinette, setting the cover aside. "You'll have to be quick," he warned. "As soon as I remove the spark support, its spark will begin to fail."
Trembling, Frequency rose, moving closer. He fidgeted awkwardly, not sure what to do with his servos. His spark lurched anxiously, even as he gave an internal command and his spark chamber transformed open. It wasn't proper to do in the open, in front of others like this, but he would not risk being too slow and causing his cassette's death. Pale blue light washed over the tiny Seeker-cassette, sharply outlining its delicate features, fragile digits, the soft protoform that would be all too easy to damage until it was older and had armor.
"There," Cascade said softly, lifting the tiny creature free of the cables that had been keeping it alive and passing it to Frequency. Its tiny spark chamber was still open thanks to a medical override, and already it was beginning to flicker. For the barest moment, Frequency froze. What if he failed this one, like he had all the others? What if it deactivated? What if- If he didn't act now, it most certainly would deactivate. The little one's limbs were jerking stiffly in obvious distress now, and he immediately lifted it carefully to his own spark, his spark, large enough to engulf the entire tiny figure if he wasn't careful. He was careful, and blue light joined that tiny, flickering gold. He could feel the innocence, the purity of the tiny one, as well as the suspicion and fear born of the abandonment it had already experienced. I will protect you, he promised through the merge. I am yours. Forever I am yours. Your host. You are safe.
Finally, at length, he drew the little one away, the merge ending. It had calmed and just gazed up at him, still and silent. The tiny spark, strengthened by the merge and now sustained through the bond they had established, spun evenly and calmly.