Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

=0=The Diego Diaries

 

#81: "Where is everyone going?"

 

=0=Autobot HQ, Earth

Prowl turned to walk back to Ops Center when he heard the voices of Graham and Lennox calling to him. Pausing, comming Prime for guidance and getting it he waited. They walked inside and stopped before him looking up at his impassive face, his bright red Chevron slightly less so for some reason. "Captain Lennox and Lieutenant Graham."

"Prowl," Lennox began glancing back as the jets and Cosmos lifted off, "what's up?"

"Up?" Prowl asked only half feigning confusion.

"Where is everyone going?" Lennox asked clarifying his comments.

"They are on an exercise," Prowl responded.

"What kind? I'm asking because we might be able to combine our teams if its possible. It might benefit both of us perhaps," Graham asked noting a certain unease in the posture of the normally preternaturally calm figure of the S.I.C.

"We are doing drills around the solar system," Prowl lied. He paused considering it wasn't necessarily a lie. They were going out to enhance existing sensors and placing more on the planets and asteroids of the solar system. "We want to enhance the sensors of the early warning system and place more as well as run sweeps from Mercury to the Oort Field."

Lennox nodded, grinning. "I know you're doing that but I'll tell you, Prowl, it never gets old to hear you say it."

Prowl smiled a slight smile. But he added nothing more.

"Will Optimus be back today or is this a multi-day experience?" Lennox asked studying the expression on Prowl's face. Practice made Prowl more accessible to him. He had had some time with the taciturn Autobot and found chinks in the normally unreadable figure's facial composition.

"Optimus will be gone for two solar days," Prowl said. "I am sorry that we didn't list this on the duty schedule. It rather came about in discussion but if he is needed he will come back. If you send your inquiries to the Ops Center we will dispatch an Aerialbot or Cosmos to bring him back."

"That will be fine. We don't at the moment have anything today but the weekly N.E.S.T.-Autobot Staff Meeting is tomorrow morning."

Prowl paused shaking his head, his optics shuttering slightly. "I am sorry," he said. "I forgot. I believe that unless you have a vital need that we postpone that meeting until Wednesday morning." He paused, thinking. "I see nothing preventing it being held then."

"Of course," Lennox said, his eyes widening at the slip on Prowl's part. Prowl forgot things like he, Lennox could fly. It wasn't possible and he could see with a flick of his eyes that Graham was caught surprised as well. "That will be fine. I guess we better go."

Prowl nodded, hesitating, then stepped back and away moving toward Ops Center, disappearing around the corner.

The two soldiers stood silently and then looked at each other with surprise. Then they turned as well and began to walk back to their own office in the N.E.S.T. barracks across the way.

=0=Autobot City Air Field and Space Port, Mars

Springer watched them unload directing the new arrivals from Earth to tasks and toward newly made temporary roads to the fortress beyond. As Sideswipe and Sunstreaker walked toward him he pulled them aside and began to tell them what he wanted them to do.

=0=Prime

He walked out of Ops Center and paused looking downward. Standing before him, three little youngling mechs stood looking up at Prime with unblinking optics. Rambler holding a servo of each of his two brothers stood quietly. Prime smiled noting the battered paint schemes of all three younglings. "You have washed."

Rambler nodded. "Yes sir," he said quietly. "They let us wash and we came here now."

Prime nodded glancing around for a supervising adult. There wasn't one. "You need to recharge. Let me show you where you can." He turned, waiting for them to follow and Rambler tried, tugging his younger brothers to come along. They tried to follow, Spirit stumbling from weariness. Prime turned and scooped him up, the tiny mech's arms going around him again. He looked at T-Bar who was standing beside his brother, his helm bent and resting on his little servos. Prime bent down and scooped him up as well, the youngling cuddling against his chest, his servo resting on the Matrix chamber. "Can you walk, Rambler?"

"I think so," he said leaning against Prime in utter fatigue.

Prime shifted T-Bar then bent down scooping up Rambler who lay his helm on Prime's shoulder. Turning, he walked toward Medbay, the little younglings falling into a light recharge by the time he arrived. It was quieter, the worst was over and when Ratchet saw Prime he dropped a tool he was holding and walked over taking Rambler into his arms. He hugged the youngling, turning to walk into the back room. Prime followed. They put the youngsters down on a pile of blankets stacked in the back. Covering them with another one, they turned to go.

"Sir?"

They turned looking at Rambler who had pulled his brothers to his chassis, the younger mechs undisturbed from their recharge.

"Rambler?" Prime replied softly.

"What happens to us now?" he asked, his expression deeply fearful.

Prime stood a moment swallowing hard, then he walked over and sat down leaning against the wall. "I will stay here until you fall into recharge. Then you will recharge completely safely because Ratchet," he said pointing to the big mech in the doorway, "Ratchet will look after you."

"And when we wake up again will you still be here?" he asked, a tear slipping from his optics.

"I will," Prime said softly, wiping Rambler's tear away. "Recharge now. You are in the middle of the Autobot Army."

"No one can hurt us there," Rambler said laying down, his optics never leaving Prime. "You're our Prime."

"I am," Optimus said quietly. He pulled blankets up and tucked them around the younglings, glancing at Ratchet who was leaning on the doorjamb watching them. Prime shook his head, an expression of utter despair crossing his face for a second.

Ratchet nodded walking up and squatting down. "I can watch them when they are in recharge."

"You need to rest too. Three decaorns and you will be a patient in your own Medbay," Prime said quietly.

"I know. But I will stay here. When they are in recharge let me know and you can go and do what you have to do."

Prime nodded, his fingers stroking Rambler's helm. "How is Copper?"

"He's off the critical list," Ratchet said smiling. "He'll make it but it will be a long recovery."

Prime nodded smiling at last. "But he will make it."

Ratchet smiled back. "He will."

=0=In a room off the medbay

They carried the heavy boxes and went back for more equipment, setting it up on the tables that were there. Throwing tarp-like mats on the floor, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe turned and nodded at Springer who had helped them set up. Turning with a smile, he left them and they waited wordlessly, pulling bottles and tubes out of the boxes.

When Springer returned he had five youngling mechs and the sole orphaned femme in tow. He had them sit on the chairs by the door and taking the femme's hand he walked with her to Sunstreaker who stood looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Springer knelt next to the little femme, his arm going around her. "Silverbow, this is Sunstreaker. He's going to help you."

She looked up at him moving back into Springer's arm fearfully.

Springer looked up frowning. "Retract your blades, Sunstreaker."

Sunstreaker jolted, glancing down. He looked at Sideswipe and both retracted their blades. Then Sunny pulled up a chair and sat bringing himself closer to the tiny femme. Reaching out, he held out his servo, his expression softening into something not often present on his helm, a soft smile. She reached out hesitantly, glancing at Springer. He nodded, smiling and she walked closer looking up at Sunstreaker with frightened optics.

Sunstreaker swallowed hard and lifted her into his lap running his fingers over the scrapes and scratches on her thin little arm. "This won't take much to fix," he said squeezing her shoulders. He set her back on her peds once more. "Stand right here and let me see what we can do about this. When I get done you are going to be the prettiest femme on the whole slaggin' world."

With that, he picked up a sander, set it at the softest grit possible and began the delicate task of replacing the little femme's green and pink paint scheme. Springer watched, then nodded to Sideswipe, reaching out to bring a solemn faced little mech to him to repair and repaint. Sideswipe smiled at the child and began.

=0=Five joors later

Prime walked out of the temporary barracks for bachelor adult mechs and paused looking down. Standing in front of him were three little mech. He smiled and knelt. "I thought you were in Medbay."

"We were. But then a big yellow mech came and got us. He did this for us, he and a red one." Rambler turned slowly, self-consciously happy with the glowing red and white paint scheme that now covered him. His brothers were looking at Prime with shy smiles, Spirit's servo rubbing the paint job on his chassis with his digits as if in awe that it was so pretty and all his. All three little mechs were white and red. All of them positively glowed they were so shiny. Then Rambler dropped T-Bar's servo, raising his shoulder and turning so Prime could see. On his shoulder and on the shoulder of the two other mechs was the cat-like face of the Autobot insignia. It was tiny, just their size, red and glowing. "See what he did for us? Sunstreaker made us Autobots too."

Prime smiled and nodded gathering them into an embrace. "He did didn't he," he said softly, smiling. "He sure did."

=0=N.E.S.T. Barracks, Officer's Office complex

Graham and Lennox filled Epps in, all of them sitting together quietly.

"I have never seen Prowl like that," Lennox said. "He looked sick and upset."

"How can you tell?" Epps asked.

"You can if you look enough times. He was uncertain and oddly tense. He actually couldn't contain it," Graham said. Lennox nodded.

It was silent a moment, then Lennox shook his head. "I have a few questions for the meeting Wednesday."

"I do too," Graham replied quietly.

=0=On the way to Ops Center

Prime paused noting a line of mechs and three femmes bearing sparklings sitting and standing outside of a room near the command center. He walked to the door nodding and smiling at the individuals waiting who looked at him with something akin to worshipful awe. He walked inside and paused, watching as Sideswipe painstakingly detailed a mech that was covered in patches and welds, new armor and plating added to places that had not seen the proper attention in a long long time. Sunstreaker was working on an older mech, one who was appreciative and whose optics never left Sunny's servos, watching every movement and application, savoring it.

The twins glanced up smiling at him with a shake of their heads. "Springer."

Prime nodded, smiling. "Good." He walked closer looking at the older mech's paint job. "This looks good."

"It's the first time in vorns and vorns that anything was done to my paint scheme, sir. I am so grateful. It feels so good to be clean. It feels good to have my dignity back," he said swallowing hard, his optics watering.

Optimus took his servo and squeezed it. "It is our great honor."

The older mech looked at him and nodded. "Thank you."

Prime nodded. "You don't need to thank us. You are with the Autobots now and you are home."

The older mech nodded, smiling slightly. "It's been a long hard journey."

"When you are able I want to hear it. Are there others out there?" Prime asked.

The mech nodded. "More than you can imagine," he said with a whisper.

Prime nodded, squeezing the older mech's servo. "Let the mechs here take care of you."

The old mech smiled glancing at Sunstreaker. "I would like an Autobot designation on my arm too. If you wouldn't mind," he asked falling back into uncertainty.

Sunstreaker looked up at him pausing for a moment before smiling slightly. "Slaggin' right."

Prime grinned.

=0=

 

#82: Flash Back

 

The Diego Diaries: Flash back

=0=Prowl

He stood in the hangar doorway, the moon overhead a sliver of bright light hanging in the sky. He had been there several times finding nothing of import about it beyond a routing array of sensors, communications relays and a mineral they needed to make a flexible metal that was useful in creating medical replacement parts in Aerialbot's comm and sensor systems.

The moon had nothing for him. The tiny blinking red light nearby it did. Mars had his spark, his world, his partner and bond mate. Optimus was there and he wished to be the same even as he loathed going. All the suffering that symbolized their entire life was gathering there, chaff blown in the winds of war falling into their hands and safety at last.

Turning, he looked back, noticing Bluestreak walking toward him. Pausing behind him, Blue slipped his arms around Prowl laying his head on Prowl's shoulder, Prowl's wings lying flat on his back for his youngling. Prowl squeezed Bluestreak's servo swaying gently as they stood together.

"You are upset," Bluestreak said.

"I will be fine," Prowl lied.

"You can tell me," Bluestreak said.

"I could tell you many things," Prowl said. "I could tell you that you are my greatest treasure, that I am proud of you and that I love you dearly."

"You just did," Bluestreak said with a chuckle.

"I did didn't I," Prowl said with a slight grin. He shook his head.

"Our people are coming to us, to Optimus," Bluestreak said quietly.

"They are," Prowl said pulling Bluestreak's arms tighter around his waist.

"That bothers you?" Bluestreak asked quietly.

"Not that," Prowl said looking up at the sky, the red star beyond the moon winking at him as it twinkled.

"The idea of it," Bluestreak said. "The idea of it?"

Prowl mused upon it for a moment and nodded slightly. "Yes, maybe ... I think so," Prowl said quietly.

As they stood together, a camera snapped pictures and video rolled. It continued when Bluestreak stepped around his genitor and hugged him around the neck, the two holding each other for a while. It continued as Bluestreak said goodnight and walked to his quarters to recharge. And it continued until Prowl turned and walked inside himself.

=0=Ops Center, Autobot City, Mars

The older mech and several others told the same story. They had been neutrals living in a colony on a planet on the flight path from Cybertron to Junk. They had worked hard to not only establish themselves but to not take sides, preferring to keep the war and its destruction away.

When they were noticed they agreed to make munitions for the Decepticons in exchange for being unmolested otherwise. It worked for a time but Megatron could not maintain even the most trivial alliances without causing destruction and disaster to eventually undo them. They were enslaved, overworked, undernourished and abused. They were given greater and greater quotas to fill that became impossible. As the productivity fell, the abuse rose.

During a especially grueling orn, their guards had overenergized and fallen into a stuperous recharge. The four oldest surviving mechs, these mechs telling the tale had gathered the fifty remaining members of the colony and slipped away on a stolen shuttle. It was a desperate measure and they barely stayed ahead of the Decepticons, sharing out their meagre rations and flying constantly. They were nearly at the end when a chance encounter with three Aerialbots, all on their way to a call issued by the Prime saved them from capture.

They flew onward barely energized enough to continue, the Aerialbots taking turns carrying the greater number of mechs and femmes, the rest flying alongside to fight and scan. It was a miracle that they made it. It was a miracle that they survived. The Aerialbots were on their last legs when they arrived, facilitating a number of the more able and physically well mechs to step outside of the ships and make the final part of the journey in their transitional forms.

The senior Autobots listened gleaning from the survivors as much information as they could and when they were finished telling the tale they were led back to their new temporary homes to rest.

"Jazz, I want the sensors monitored day and night with the idea that there are Decepticon interceptors following. I want more sensors in the Oort Field and I want the Aerialbots and Cosmos to make regular reconn flights around the solar system with an emphasis on the solar well beyond. I don't want anyone coming up our tail pipes by surprise."

Jazz nodded glancing at Wheeljack and Perceptor. "That deep space sensor array that you want to mount in the clouds of Venus and Jupiter ... we need to talk."

Both mechs nodded.

"I want a survey of the refugees' skills and training. I want it put into the skills database. We are going to be building housing sooner rather than later and I want to know if we have skills in this group that can be utilized. Also, our new arrivals when they recover will need to work at something and we could use extra hands building the city."

Jazz nodded glancing at Mirage. "We can interview them as soon as you sign off, Ratchet."

Ratchet nodded.

"What is their physical status, Ratchet?" Prime asked.

"Well, very poor at the moment. All of the adults bear the scars of beatings and I think some of them were used for sport, either in shooting contests or gladitorial events. Even the younglings and one of the sparklings show signs of systematic abuse."

The room was silent a moment and Ironhide shifted, a soft growl issuing from him. He turned around looking at Prime. "How do you abuse sparklings?" he asked, coolant pooling in his optics. "Younglings … sparklings … how do you hurt them?"

No one answered. Ratchet reached out and took Ironhide's servo, squeezing it. Ironhide paused a moment, then looked at Prime. "What are we going to do with the orphans? We have eight orphan mechs and one femme. They need guardians who will act as their genitors. What will we do, Prime?"

Prime considered that, the three little mechs passing through his processor. "We have them here and we will take care of them. I want to know more about them and if they have anyone before we allow them to be adopted or taken under guardianship."

Ironhide nodded. "We have a duty to them to see that they grow up better. I don't know what they must feel like after the life they've had but the sparklings … they don't make a sound."

No one spoke. It was silent on the command deck.

=0=Prowl

He waited for the link to connect and then Optimus's face was on the screen. He smiled relaxing once more. "Hello."

"Hello," Optimus said relaxing at the sight of Prowl.

"How is it? Are you all right?" Prowl asked, tension infusing his words.

"No one is going to the Matrix. Ratchet is a miracle worker."

Prowl smiled.

"What's wrong, Prowl? I have felt something sorrowful from you since the refugees showed up."

Prowl looked down and shook his head. "It's nothing, really."

Prime looked at Prowl, frowning. "You know better than that."

Prowl looked up. "What about the younglings, Optimus? What are we going to do with the little ones?"

Prime looked at Prowl. "Come here to Mars. I need you here."

Prowl looked around at the quiet command deck, half of the positions automatically manned. "I have to stay here. Who will run the Center?"

"Switch functions to here," Prime said soothingly. "I want you here. I'm sending Cosmos. Be ready."

Prowl opened his mouth to say something, then paused. "All right," he said softly. "I'll be waiting."

Prime nodded, his expression soft with love for Prowl. "I'll be waiting too."

=0=On the tarmac

He stood by a jet, a real jet, leaning against its hard contoured side. A light in the sky signaled the arrival shortly of Cosmos. Prime had noticed what he had kept hidden and now he wanted Prowl to come. He wondered if he could talk about it, this long hidden torment. He never talked about it unless he was pressed to the wall and he was sure that Prime would be relentless.

The form of Cosmos began to materialize and when he landed, side door opening, Prowl walked forward entering. Without a sound, Cosmos rose up and with a swiftness nothing else on Earth could produce was gone from the sight of man in nanokliks.

=0=Arrival

Prowl stepped off Cosmos, the big shuttle moving to park in the midst of the Aerialbots, five now all huddled together talking on internal comm lines. As he walked forward, he saw Prime's outline in the darkness. Pausing, Prowl walked forward and slipped his arms around Prime who reciprocated, holding Prowl in a tight embrace.

=0=Ironhide and Ratchet

They lay together on a cot in the back of the Medbay, one designed for overnight stays by medical personnel. Ratchet lay in Ironhide's arms tracing a circular pattern in the armor of the big brooding mech. "You should say what you feel, Ironhide. It makes it easier."

"I was thinking of our sparkling and how I would feel if someone hurt it."

It was silent a moment. Ratchet nodded silently.

"I'm going to find out the name of the mech who hurt that sparkling and then I'm going to kill him if we ever cross paths. I will do it with my bare hands."

Ratchet nodded again, the haunted eyes of the sparkling, a tiny undernourished infant named Rain passing through his processor before he repressed the memory with effort. "I will help you, Ironhide," Ratchet said softly.

=0=Nearby

They drove to a nearby bluff, transforming to sit on a rocky outcropping. Prowl leaned against Prime, watching one of the two moons of Mars begin its traverse across the darkening sky.

"Will you tell me about it?" Prime asked slipping his arm around Prowl and pulling him closer.

"It's hard," Prowl said. "Its hard to think about it."

"I know but it will help you."

Prowl was silent a moment and then haltingly, he began to tell Prime about Praxus, about the effort to find someone, anyone alive. Then he told him the tale of his youngling. He told him about Bluestreak.

=0=

 

#83: Carry On

 

=0=Autobot City, on a rock outcropping nearby, Mars

They sat together, the memories of a thousand war-torn wastelands rising before them as they reflected silently.

Prowl leaned into Optimus whose arm was around him holding him closely. "I'm sorry."

Optimus looked down, the handsome face of his most beloved clouded with emotions. "Why? Because sometimes it piles up and you can't cope?"

"You bear such a heavy burden. I'm suppose to lift that, not add to it."

Optimus smiled, kissing Prowl's helm. "You do that just by walking into a room."

Prowl straightened and looked at Optimus. "You are the total sum of my happiness. Without you there is nothing in my spark or this life to keep me here. Not even Blue."

Optimus nodded. "Then you understand me too."

Prowl nodded and smiled slightly. "This was one battlefield too many at this moment. Sparklings, older mechs and femmes ... to see them hurt ... sometimes ... I just can't ..." He paused. "I will be fine."

"I know," Optimus said leaning in for a soft kiss. His lips lingered and then he sat back looking at Prowl with an expression that stilled the smaller mech. "Don't be afraid to tell me when the darkness comes. I am here for you. Always."

Prowl nodded. "And I am for you," he said softly.

Optimus pulled Prowl close, the two holding each other. "We should get back," he whispered.

"We should." Prowl smiled. "Later."

Optimus smiled and glanced down. "Well said."

=0=Diego Garcia, Lieutenant Niall Graham

They went through the day, the lack of activity at the Autobot HQ an unusual sight for soldiers and airmen going here and there. Graham walking toward the main administration building looked at the hangar doors, the empty rec room just beyond and felt a lonesome feeling falling over him. There were bots inside but few. Almost all of them were gone on their 'training exercise' and it was 'empty' around here.

/... so this is what it will feel like if Galloway gets elected and has his way … I miss them and they aren't even gone .../

He continued onward, the silence of the area disturbing.

=0=Ops Center, Autobot City, Mars

Prowl leaned over Teletraan III, the computer nexus on Mars that was the mirror image of the one at Diego Garcia. It actually was the same super computer, an annex of the one on Earth but the designation kept the two separated and the confusion to a minimum. Beyond the command deck, the base was working hard to help, comfort and absorb the fifty refugees.

Prowl turned and paused looking down. Standing in the middle of the command deck were three little mechs standing together, two smaller ones on each side of a taller one, their servos gripped tightly in his own. They were white and red, shiny in a new penny sort of way and looking around like they were lost. For a moment, he could see Bluestreak, little and distraught, battered, broken and covered in his mother's energon. For a moment, it wasn't the command deck of Autobot City Ops Center. It was the debris and body strewn hell of Praxus with its toxic smells, its still exploding ordinance and one small little mech standing on rubble and body parts screaming and screaming. He swallowed hard and walked to the three kneeling and looking them in the optics. "Hello."

They looked at him with their little blue optics, a nervous skittish look that Prowl remembered so well. "We were looking for our Prime," the oldest one said shyly, a touch of fear in his voice. "He knows us."

Prowl swallowed again, touching Rambler's cheek. "Then we will find him then," he said rising and picking up Spirit who curled his little body against Prowl. He stroked T-Bar's face and caressed Rambler. "Come with me. Let's find our Prime." Taking T-Bar's servo, smiling at Rambler to follow, the four walked slowly out the door to find their Prime.

=0=Ironhide

He walked around the plant inspecting the machinery and the process. Energon was being made in bulk quantities and they were able to cut their need for petroleum products off, supplying energy to their garrison including the Aerialbots directly from here. Most of it was underground, built to be defended against Decepticon attack should they feel they could do so here.

Three of the mechs from the refugee group were energy experts who were anxious to work here, to do something in return for the 'right to stay'. He shook his head. It would take a while for them to understand they were welcome here. They owed nothing and didn't have to prove they were worthy or useful. That they were here, their first reclamation project, their countrymen, it was enough payment.

He turned and walked down the long underground tunnel that connected the energon plant to the huge central room out of which all the tunnels to the city were connected, like a big wheel with many spokes running out of a central hub. The garrison was the hub and everything else was a spoke radiating out to areas on the plateau. It had taken day and night shifts working and toiling with incredible dedication to get this far and all of it was designed to withstand attack, based on what they had learned the hard way elsewhere.

The smelter also ran full time making the materials that they needed to build, shore up and expand with as they began to make the planned city come to life. There would be buildings above ground but not yet. The garrison was the most noticable and was incredibly fortified against air and land attack. It would be fall back zone one for all inhabitants and from there, the Autobots would defend all.

Walking to the hub, pausing to talk to a number of bots, Ironhide turned and climbed the stairs ignoring the lift which was filled with supplies for the temporary barracks being built in the corridor leading to the smelter. Some of the mechs working were refugees already pitching in and Ironhide felt happy to see them rising up again.

They would all rise up he considered. High enough to kick Starscream's aft. With that, he disappeared from view into the busy mech-filled halls of the fortress.

=0=Ratchet

He began to clear out the last few refugees giving them their instructions on after care and hugging the sparklings as the femmes gathered their bond mates. When they found out he was sparked, it actually prompted a response from two of the most beaten down femmes, both crowding around Ratchet to ask him how he was doing, offering pointers and feeling for a moment like they were normal and their life hadn't been slag for what seemed like eons. When they finally walked out, little families reunited once more, Ratchet stood and ruminated. Then he commed Arcee to come to the Medbay.

=0=Prime

He was in the armory checking out the inventory of combustibles when Prowl and the youngling mechs arrived. They had climbed down the stairs, eschewing the crowded elevators and wend their way along the lighted corridors to the place where Prowl's sensors had located his bond. Entering, Rambler dropped Prowl's servo and ran toward Prime, stopping shyly in front of him. Looking down smiling, Prime knelt and pulled the little mech into his arms hugging him. Rambler clung to him, holding him and when Prime arose the little mech gripped him tightly with his legs.

Prime smiled reaching out to caress the cheeks and sweet faces of T-Bar and Spirit. "I see you found my entourage."

Prowl nodded shifting from ped to ped as he swayed for Spirit, the little mech clinging to him tightly. T-Bar moved to Optimus wrapping his arms around the Prime's leg holding him as tightly as he could. "We appear to be in the throes of a love fest."

Prime snorted and smiled. "I was one of the first mechs they saw."

"I can see that. Did you see the little Autobot designation on their arms?" Prowl asked, smiling.

"Springer had Sunstreaker and Sideswipe repaint the refugees. Sunstreaker put those on all the children. Then the adults and younglings asked for them."

"They're very cute," Prowl said rubbing Spirit's little arm. "Do you know who they belong to?" Prowl stared at Prime, a wave of emotion passed between them over the bond.

"We are sorting that out now," Prime said reaching down to pick Rambler up off the floor. "We have to make sure that families stay intact." The younglings lay against him comforted by his presence and Prowl smiled at him getting a sheepish grin in return. "I think I could use a break. How about going to the lounge and getting some energon," Prime asked with a smile.

Rambler looked up at him patting his chassis with his little servo. "Can we come too?" he asked, the fear back in his voice.

Prowl and Prime paused gathering themselves. "Of course you can."

They turned and walked to the main floor and the lounge beyond Ops Center.

=0=Bluestreak

He sat at Teletraan II and watched the updates come through, the refugees breaking down into several distinct groups. They totaled fifty. Of those fifty, four were older mechs, nine were younglings ... eight mechs and one femme. There were also three sparklings, all of them mech. Their mothers along with the youngling femme totaled four in all. The remaining count left thirty-one adult mechs, some of them in dire condition when they had arrived.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were there assisting and providing security in case of Decepticon interception of the refugees by their pursuers. There was nothing on the radar or sensor nets yet but he knew from experience that it could all change in a spark beat.

The majority of the mechs would be returning to Diego in the early morning hours, coming back from their 'training exercise' to resume their duties here. Sideswipe was coming back but Sunstreaker had been assigned to Autobot City indefinitely.

It sucked.

He sat and watched the grids, sending and receiving signals until the end of his shift in the late afternoon. After that, he sat and watched the moon and beyond it the red twinkling light of Mars which held the entirety of his life in its sandy dusty shores.

=0=Hound

He sat on the floor holding out color sticks for the tiny femme, Silverbow. She had not spoken a word since they had come here but she was clean, shined and sparkling. Her light green and pink paint scheme was replaced thanks to Sunstreaker, her little red Autobot insignia charmingly placed on her left shoulder. She sat and drew pictures taking the color sticks from Hound.

He had carried her to the various appointments that were designed to ascertain her condition and when he had put her down at the Medbay for her second round of tests she had held his servo and refused to let go even for Ratchet. She had stared at him silently, her tiny blue optics never wavering and only Hound holding her allowed Ratchet to do what he needed.

She had been found to be healthy and well despite being beaten and starved. Hound looked at her, this tiny little youngling and felt a deep burning outrage. How anyone could harm the young and the old, he didn't know. He just knew that wherever he went in the fortress, the little femme jogged along behind, never speaking, never allowing him out of her sight.

Trailbreaker walking in to kneel smiled at the little femme who paused in her coloring, looking from Hound to Trailbreaker and back to Hound again.

Then she smiled back.

=0=In a corridor on the way to the smelter where the refugees were being billoted

She had left Medbay, a new mission handed to her by Ratchet. They had talked and talked, deciding that a liaison was needed for the tiniest minority in the city. She agreed whole-heartedly and turned marching out to seek them.

She found them huddled together in a little group, their bond mates sitting on berths exhausted and silent with relief at their changed circumstances. They held silent sparklings looking at her as she came to them. She smiled and reached out hugging the nearest femme. Holding her, her arms wrapped around both her and her sparkling, she whispered softly to the group. "I am Arcee. I'm here to help you."

=0=

 

#84: “What younglings?”

 

=0=Autobot City, Mars

They began to gather at the entrance to the fortress, gear bags and boxes being stowed on Silverbolt, Cosmos and Sky Dive. The other Aerialbots were staying due to their physical debilitation. The other three would ferry most of the Autobots back to Diego Garcia and return here when they were finished. In a few days, the Aerialbots and Cosmos would shift off to Diego and take up their station there.

Hound, a sleepy Silverbow in his arms stood outside the Ops Center waiting with Trailbreaker for Prime to walk out. He was bent over a schematic of the next phase of Autobot City and so they waited nervously. Silverbow laying against Hound's shoulder stroked his armored neck with her servo, absently seeking and receiving warmth and comfort by the action. Swaying gently as he held the little femme Hound waited anxiously for Prime. Finally, Trailbreaker squeezed his arm and walked onto the Command Deck. "Sir?" he asked.

Optimus turned giving Trailbreaker his attention.

"Sir, I think we have a problem," Trailbreaker said.

=0=A few minutes later

They sat in a conference room off Ops Center, four little younglings and their anxious companions. Trailbreaker stood by the door shifting from ped to ped as Hound sat on a chair, Silverbow leaning against him on his lap. Three little white and red mechs stood beside the table, Spirit sitting on Prowl's lap, T-Bar leaning against him as they sat on the couch and Rambler standing as close to Prime as he dared, his anxious faceplates telling his story, his servos ringing together in fear.

They had gathered in the room, the younglings and the mechs who had been their helpers during processing and looked at each other, the situation that had arose demanding delicate handling. Ratchet and Ironhide sitting on the other side of the table waiting looked from one to the other, already convinced as to what to do for the little younglings.

"When we took her to the youngling's quarters, she got hysterical when we said we had to leave her," Hound said softly. The femme hearing his words turned and burrowed into his chassis looking over her shoulder with fearful optics at everyone in the room. He hugged her, kissing her helm. "She has bonded to us, sir. What are we going to do?"

Prowl looked at Prime shrugging. "What are we supposed to do with this? These little mechs and the femme don't have anyone."

"We don't know that yet, Prowl," Prime began taking and squeezing Rambler's servo.

"I asked the survivors," Prowl said. "There younglings have no surviving family. They didn't make it out of the ordeal. These are legitimate orphans."

Prime was silent a moment, then turned to Ratchet. "What is your opinion on this, Ratchet?"

Ratchet considered the anxious silent younglings. "They are bonding out of pain and seeking solace. I would think depriving them of the mechs that give them a sense of safety would be very detrimental to their recovery. Right now, they don't feel safe without you in their optical range. They cling to you and feel desperate when you aren't there. I would think that we have a special circumstance here and we have to do the right thing. We have to take them with us."

Prime leaned back looking at Prowl. "These are three traumatized younglings."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Prowl said softly. "It is up to you."

Prime grinned slightly. "Thanks."

Prowl grinned back. Slightly. "You're welcome."

Prime looked at the little femme falling into recharge in Hound's arms. He looked at the three little mechs that watched him closely, their anxiety palpable. Then he nodded. "I agree."

Rambler looked from one to the other, then walked to Prime putting his little servos on Prime's arm. "What is going to happen to us?" he asked, his face and voice betraying his fear.

"You are coming with us," Prime said squeezing the little mech's servo.

"My brothers too?" he asked glancing at the two silent mechs leaning against Prowl.

Prime nodded. "You will all be coming with us."

Rambler put his head down on Prime's arm, his shoulders sagging. Prime pulled him into his arms and held him glancing at Prowl. "This is going to be hard. You know that."

"Who else better to know that," Prowl answered with a slight smile.

"Who indeed," Prime replied rising to head for the door, Rambler in his arms, the others following.

=0=On the way to Diego Garcia

Silverbow sitting on Hound's lap holding Trailbreaker's thumb in her servo watched the other mechs with unblinking optics. They sat around the hold of Cosmos, Sideswipe and others flying through the vacuum toward the garrison that was home.

In the hold of Silverbolt, lying on duffel bags recharging, three little mechs slept. Optimus Prime sat next to them, his arm around Prowl's shoulders as they talked about what they had to do with the youngling's. Ironhide sitting with Ratchet watched them, amused out of his peds that they had beaten him in the sparkling race. Three for them to his one. That Prime, he was one virile mech he thought with a snort.

Ratchet looking at a datapad filled with data for the report he had to write looked at Ironhide. "What?" he asked.

Ironhide glancing at Ratchet shook his helm. "Nothing."

=0=At the base in Diego Garcia

They walked off the shuttles carrying gear and four younglings heading for the hangar beyond. Prowl holding a satchel full of datapads, Spirit who was deeply recharging and the servo of T-Bar considered what they would do about putting the mechs to bed.

Behind him carrying a groggy Rambler, Prime was in discussion with Ironhide about the upcoming day's agenda including the weekly Senior Autobot-N.E.S.T. Staff Meeting in a few hours. The soldiers would be present and probably a few extras, civilians with a project and other non-Autobot individuals. The problem was keeping the younglings low key. He himself would provide the cover story on their presence.

He would lie.

They walked into the hangar moving toward their berths, catching up with those who had stayed as they went. Beyond the hangar across the tarmac hidden in the shadows of Cosmos's empty hangar a camera with long range lenses snapped away.

=0=Later that day

Prowl sat at his station in the Ops Center preparing the agenda for the meeting. When he arose he paused looking down. Three little red and white mechs were standing there looking up. Prowl smiled. So did they.

Hound and Trailbreaker standing outside of the wash racks, a tiny green and pink femme in Hound's arms waited for the three mechs inside to finish. They walked out pausing to exclaim over the femme who sat shyly with a slight smile on her face. Sideswipe following them paused, sheathing his swords fully. He grinned, tapping her nose structure with his digit. She smiled and leaned shyly back into Hound. "My brother, Sunstreaker, did your paint. Aren't you the cutest femme on planet Earth."

Hound grinned. "She's the only one right now," he said leaning in to peek. "Everyone out?"

Sideswipe nodded, moving aside for them to enter. He stood at the door watching as Hound and Trailbreaker carefully explained everything. Then they set a barrel on its end, placing her on her peds on top of it. Regulating a spray, they began to wash her, soaping her up and gently spraying it all away. By the time they were done and she was wrapped in a towel Sideswipe had decided that little youngling femmes were alright too. He turned and walked to the hangar to prepare for his duty shift.

=0=The Senior Autobot-N.E.S.T Weekly Staff Meeting

They drove inside the hangar parking by the door of the conference room. Wheeljack and Perceptor were there with plans of some kind. Long range deep space sensor something or other they heard as they moved the ladder and began to climb upwards. Crossing the table, sitting on their chairs, they kicked back and nodded listening to the conversation. That is, the conversation that was in English.

Prime and Prowl entered walking to their places greeting everyone. Ironhide and Ratchet entered, others also with a place at the table for the meeting, then the door opened once more, another human walking in. Coming around the table stilling conversation as he did, Jase Daniels walked to the ladder and began to climb upward, crossing the table's expanse and stopping beside the soldiers. Epps, Lennox and Graham looked at him without rising from their chairs.

"What are you doing here, Daniels?" Lennox asked none too politely.

"I'm here for the meeting. I have been given permission to attend these weekly meetings." He turned and looked at Prime. "I appreciate you telling your guards to let me come in. I would have hated to call General Morshower."

Prime looking at him with an expression somewhere between indifference and disgust shrugged. "You are late."

"My apologies," he said looking around for a seat on the table top.

Ironhide looking at him as if he were a cockroach in his salad slapped an empty cartridge box on the table. "Here, Daniels. Sit on this."

Daniels staring at the box, the faint smell of munitions emanating off of it looked at Ironhide. "Can I assume that this is an empty box?"

Ironhide shrugged smiling a humorless smile. "You can. But you know what they say … assuming makes an aft out of you and me."

Ratchet snorted and smiled. "Finally, an Earth saying I can get behind."

=0=In a room nearby

Bluestreak sat on the floor, a little femme sitting on his lap, an art stick in her servo. Bluestreak was holding a piece of cardboard and the little femme was drawing on it. Nearby, playing with a set of wooden blocks of all shapes the three mechs were building a copy of the fortress of Autobot City. Helping them, Bumblebee and Hound lay on the floor, the chatter of younglings and the peaceful atmosphere drawing others into the room. Some sat around reading datapad novels, others sat and discussed the building techniques being used and others discussed the use of color in portraits by talented femmes.

For the first time in the lifetime of most of them, they could sit and interact with children of their own species. They could see them, talk to them, touch them. And as they did they found something else happening. They found themselves loving them.

=0=

 

#85: Daniels

 

=0=Senior Autobot-N.E.S.T. Weekly Meeting, Diego Garcia

"What are you doing here, Daniels?" Lennox asked none too politely.

"I'm here for the meeting. I have been given permission to attend these weekly meetings." He turned and looked at Prime. "I appreciate you telling your guards to let me come in. I would have hated to call General Morshower."

Prime looking at him with an expression somewhere between indifference and disgust shrugged. "You are late."

"My apologies," he said looking around for a seat on the table top.

The exchange between Prime and Daniels was short and sharp, the human settling and looking at Prime with his usual unreadably blank expression. The others in the room stirred but finally settled, tension rising in a meeting that was usually free of such.

They began, discussing the progress of the contracts that they had made with green companies to produce batteries and other energy efficient items that would pay their expenses and leave them less open to criticism from right winged agenda driven people.

Like Daniels Ratchet thought, looking at Daniels like he was a specimen.

Daniels for his part sat and listened as Lennox and the soldiers discussed personnel, training schedules and faint glitches on the intel regarding the bad guys. It was clear that Lennox was being extremely careful with what he was disclosing due to Daniels' proximity and Prime made a mental note to talk to the soldiers later in the day.

The rest of the agenda went well, Autobots leaving and arriving depending on the discussion items. By the time they were nearing the end Prime opened the floor to discussion as usual and Daniels began.

"I don't know if you saw the news this morning," he said glancing at Prime and Prowl. "There appears to be evidence that there are children on this base, Autobot children."

The temperature in the room, never warm since he came through the door dropped to frigid and everyone turned their optics to Prime soldiers included. Prime staring at Daniels as he considered his response found himself loathing with an intensity he usually didn't reserve for anyone but senior Decepticons the human sitting on the table staring at him impassively.

"I haven't heard today's news," Prime said equally impassively.

"There are photos of Autobots including you," he said nodding at Prowl, "walking off of jets carrying very small child-like Autobots."

"Prowl."

He glanced at the S.I.C. who was looking at Daniels coldly. "My designation is Prowl."

Daniels nodded. "Whatever. My question still stands."

A shift among those present didn't phase Daniels and Prime wondered if anything really did. He leaned forward. "And why do you ask?"

"Our treaty agreements allow for your garrison but children are not included."

"Our treaties call for sanctuary for any Autobot that hears the call I made for them to come," Prime said quietly, leaning forward slightly. "That would include any children or infants that can get here."

"Then there are children," Daniels persisted pausing from his writing to look up at Prime.

Prime leaned back considering how much to disclose. "Two days ago we received a distress signal from three of our Aerialbots who were coming to Earth guided by my call. They were carrying refugees that they had found fleeing Decepticon pursuit and requested assistance. We rendered it."

"And the refugees? And the three Aerialbots? Where are they? I would like to see them," Daniels said making more notes.

"Nothing in our agreements requires us to allow you to see anyone who comes to us," Prime said. "The language allows us leeway to handle our personnel situations independent of your scrutiny. As for the Aerialbots, they will be coming here shortly."

"I think its well within the rights of the United States government to be able to verify the presence of more Autobots on Diego Garcia. The cost of allowing-"

Prime sitting farther forward cut Daniels off. "Our treaties and agreements are very explicit in our autonomy and the right to privacy. We are allowed to repatriate our people without undue scrutiny. We are also paying our own way now so your comments about costs are irrelevent."

Daniels scrutinized Prime levelly. "What are you hiding, Prime?"

Prime looked at him, disdain on his faceplates. "What are you hiding, Mr. Daniels?"

It was silent a moment. No one spoke or moved. Daniels sat back regarding his opponent. "I am the authorized representative of the United States State Department to Diego Garcia carrying the brief for the Autobot garrison and the N.E.S.T. program."

"And I am the Prime of Cybertron, the guardian not only of the Creation Matrix but the well-being and safety of all my people everywhere. I am commander of an army that was old when your people were still sitting in trees. Why someone on this base took pictures and released them, I don't know. I will find them and there will be consequences."

"Are you making threats?" Daniels asked.

"I don't make threats. I make promises and I keep them. You might tell that to your superiors."

"I will," Daniels said. "The Secretary of State-"

"I wasn't referring to her," Prime said sitting back. "I was referring to Nast."

It was silent a moment, then Daniels sat back himself regarding Prime levelly. "You have proof of your accusation?"

"I am not given to making unfounded accusations," Prime replied.

"Is that so," Daniels said glancing at his notes. "I would appreciate a time in which I can see the children, to ascertain their existence on base. We are not in the habit of keeping children on a forward military base."

Prime leaned forward. "You will not be seeing anyone. This is an embassy and sovereign soil for Cybertron. Our treaties allow us to refuse requests from anyone including your President."

"Then my report to the State Department will note that you refused a reasonable request. And I might add, something that might defuse some of the rumors in the media about what is actually going on here with the revelation about the children."

"I will file that one with the others," Prime said.

Daniels glanced up, looking at him sharply. "What?"

"I get a copy of your reports every week from the State Department as a courtesy. I thought you would know that," Prime said, amusement creeping into his voice.

"No, I wasn't aware of that," Daniels replied as Lennox smirked and shook his head. "I will bear it in mind," he said shooting a harsh glance at the soldier. He turned and looked at Prime. "The public has a right to know about any changes here including the inclusion of children. They also have a right to know about the refugees."

"And we have a treaty-granted right to privacy," Prowl replied coldly. "Our people do not have to be paraded around for the public. They have suffered enough."

"Then you will have to bear the consequences of public opinion without having a hand in the formulation of the facts."

"Why do you care?" Ironhide interjected. "You're the one marshalling public opinion against us, you and your owner, Nast."

It was silent a moment, then Daniels closed his notebook. "I am assuming that this meeting is over?"

"You can assume whatever you wish, Mr. Daniels," Prime said.

The room was silent and then Daniels arose, walked to the ladder and climbed downward. He walked to the door and left, the atmosphere lifting as he did. Lennox, Graham and Epps watched him go, then turned looking at Prime for a moment. Then Lennox leaned forward. "I have a few questions if you don't mind."

Prime smiled slightly. "Ask them, William. I can always refuse."

Lennox grinned.

=0=Several minutes later

They stood in the doorway watching the younglings playing. The four were kneeling on the floor, heads bent together building with blocks under the watchful eyes of four Autobots. Sideswipe, Bumblebee, Hound and Trailbreaker were handing them requested blocks, answering design questions and generally being available, the looks of satisfaction and amusement on their faceplates warming to see.

Lennox looked up getting a nod, then stepped in walking to where the group were sitting on the floor. They paused and looked at him, this strange short alien, then Prime and the others. Spirit moved toward T-Bar leaning against him, fear clearly on his face as he looked at the human who was only just a bit taller than he was. He looked at Prime, saw his smile and then relaxed staring at Lennox with unblinking optics. Looking at his brother, he turned back to Lennox, then held out a block with hesitation.

Lennox smiling took the block and looked at the building they were designing. He walked up and hefted it into place, looking at the children who smiled at him. He smiled back unaware that he had just finished a gun turret on a corner of the fortress of Autobot City on Mars.

As the soldiers met the children, Autobots were already tracking the photos of the children back to the source.

=0=

 

#85: Throw Down

 

=0=On the command deck

Jazz turned frowning. He looked at Prime who was sitting nearby irritated. Jazz rose and walked to him pulling out a chair to sit. "It would appear that they didn't go out on the internet this time, Prime. None of the usual routes were used."

"Then they might be aware that we're on to them. I want this tracked down. We need to know who is the mule or if they are utilizing some transport function to send things away. The last thing we need is for more information on the younglings to get out," Prime said. "What kind of activity is happening around Nast and Intel-Martin?"

"A number of messages between 'High Flyer' and Nast. He wants 'the package' and Flyer is fixin' to deliver."

Prime paused a moment. "Put Autobot City on high alert. I don't think they know where Springer and Arcee are but I don't want to take any chances. I don't want the Mole to succeed."

Jazz nodded. "When are we goin' to pull him out of his hole?"

"Not just yet," Prime said. "He's our direct line to Starscream." He paused as he considered a few things. "I think it might be a good time to feed him some false information and see if we can hit them back."

Jazz nodded, smiling without humor. "Sounds good to me."

=0=Autobot City, Mars

Springer walked through the hub on the way to the Ops Center. He had gotten the word to raise the threat level to high. Obviously, Prime felt there was a potential for attack. He walked past the refugees, many of them now working at some task in the facility 'earning their keep' as the older ones mentioned from time to time. He reassured them but they insisted on being useful.

Pausing at the stairs to let a femme and sparkling pass, he took them three at a time and was in the Ops Center in no time. He had organized his defense and the crews were in place. After alerting the refugees to the upcoming drills, Springer sat down at the command console and began to direct the first drill involving live ammunition, the turret guns and other defenses that would protect them in the matter of an attack.

When they were finished, they would exceed expectations by many degrees. If your life was threatened and you were protecting your family and friends, you would be pretty slaggin' accurate too he thought as he commed his teams and they began all over again.

=0=Nast

He smiled and relaxed in his chair. He had gotten an email that his desired objects would be delivered to him at a warehouse in Oregon. The kicker of the whole thing was he was expected to show up himself and take custody. High Flyer would be there and he wished to meet Nast face-to-face. It would be a good thing to meet someone who shared his values and outlook he thought.

He had phoned his Field Ops director, Thomas Jaspers and he would get the team and equipment together to take the 'objects' back to Texas where his techs would be waiting. He would have the femme, Arcee and the mech, Springer. High Flyer seemed especially glad to be able to deliver Springer for reasons Nast couldn't quite understand but he didn't care. He would have two Autobots, their weapons systems, their advanced communications and self-repair capabilities. He would have their armor and their CPUs. The potential for earning by engineering products and weapons from all of this was staggering.

He leaned back in his chair, put up his feet and lit his Columbian cigar. Picking up a whiskey and soda, he sipped it and calculated the influence on the world he would have soon. He would be the most powerful man on Earth. He smiled and relaxed, the sun setting on the horizon casting long shadows on his office floor.

=0=Ratchet

He stood in the rec room considering the request. It was a nice holiday for the humans but it was without counterpart in Cybertronian culture. Christmas. A Christmas tree. The presents part had resonance. Giving gifts was a way to build familial and friendship ties. Religion was a forbidden topic to discuss with the humans. It was deeply personal for everyone. Religious holidays were specific and none of them revolved around anything more than a salute to Primus, his defeat of Unicron and the sincere hope that it stayed that way.

Lennox, Epps and Graham had assured him that the Christmas season had as much to do with religion as a person wanted and that the 'pretty' side was what a lot of people appreciated beyond the events it grew out of. 'You have kids now, Ratchet. Everyone is going to be celebrating Christmas. Maybe we can get a tree and decorations for your kids. They can have something pretty around to look at,' he had said.

A quick chat with Optimus who having seen Christmas trees before led to his agreement for the youngling's sake. Ratchet had too and it still seemed incomprehensible to cut down a perfectly good tree, decorate and light it, then put it in a prominent place in your domicile to shed needles before being thrown away in the trash. Odd, humans. Then he nodded back to Prime and let the soldiers know that the idea for the younglings was a good thing.

It would be Ratchet thought. They could use pretty and fun, joy and laughter. Their reticence and fearfulness was dropping a few degrees but they were still delicate and needed lots of the right attention. Watching Sideswipe and Bluestreak walk past, Blue carrying Silverbow and Sideswipe with Spirit, he smiled. Attention the younglings would get.

Now how do you get a Christmas tree? He started out toward the N.E.S.T. HQ to ask.

=0=Nast

He cleared his week making sure that the night of December 21st was open. That would be when he would pick up his 'artifacts'. Jaspers would have a four man team ready and two trucks to carry both away. He would be there in the ubiquitous black SUV that the company had in spades.

He would meet with High Flyer, take stock of him and maybe even find out how he had an inside track with the Decepticons. He felt good, better than good and in a few days he would be on his way to mastery of his own universe with more money and power than he could use. Such problems were good he thought walking down the hallway of his office building. Good, indeed.

=0=At the N.E.S.T. HQ

Ratchet knocked on the door, bending down to peer into the windows. A gaggle of femmes inside looked up to see him and a lot of high pitched squeeing followed. Raising back up, stepping back as the door opened and three air force and an army woman stepped out, Ratchet grinned.

"Hi, Ratchet. What can we do for you?" they asked.

He looked down blinking his optics. "I was looking for Captain Lennox, Sargent Epps and/or Lieutenant Graham."

They looked at each other, then back up again. "They're in meetings."

"I see," Ratchet said.

"How can we help you?" an air force woman said.

"Well … I," Ratchet began with a sense of foreboding.

=0=A couple of joors later

They had brought things in, a few boxes and an artificial Christmas tree on the back of a hummer. Ratchet following and feeling that things had gotten waaaay out of hand shook his head. They had swarmed, overpowering him and by the time he was finished counting his digits they were on their way. They paused at the door of the main hangar entrance looking up. "Where to, Ratchet?"

He looked down and then up wishing he could sigh. It was such a nice reflex he thought. So much more so than another reflex he had seen earlier that gave him the whillies, spitting. "Follow me," he said resigned to his fate.

And so the hummer followed Ratchet as he went into the hangar, driving around the tables and down a corridor, heading for the room that was reserved for younglings, the same ones that were displayed on half the gossip websites, television shows and newspapers of the whole fraggin' world.

=0=Autobot City, Mars

They had debugged the system and the outer relay sensor array had come on line, sending information to both Teletraan II and its sister, Teletraan III. Prime had informed Springer that the effort by Starscream to deliver Arcee and him to Nast was go again. His irritation was only exceeded by his efficiency now that the fortress had civilian refugees including three sparklings.

He would work hard and Starscream would make a mistake. He didn't intend to be the one who would falter. Arcee for her part was advocating for the femmes, all four of them becoming a united group. He and Arcee were to stay on Mars and hunker down. The intel was coming in slowly but the goal was not changing. Nast wanted Arcee and him on a slab with faceless sparkless technicians slicing off parts of both of them. Fraggers, he thought. It would never happen.

=0=Younglings' play room

The soldier femmes had stood in the doorway looking at the four younglings, their faces filled with excitement over seeing them upclose and personal. Ratchet entered and the younglings paused looking at him, then the humans. Silverbow and Spirit rose swiftly, walking to Sideswipe and Bluestreak who had returned to the room to sit with the other two younglings. They slipped their arms around Sideswipe, sitting on his lap as they looked at the humans, their little blue optics unblinking. The other two were less fearful but reticent none the less.

"We have a surprise from the humans," Ratchet said moving inside to kneel down. "I don't know how to do this but these soldier femmes are going to do it then show you," he said in their language.

The younglings looked at him and then sat back watching with wary optics as the cheerful femmes of the United States Armed Forces began to assemble a Christmas tree in the corner. By the time the balls and lights were strung the younglings were creeping closer looking at the pretty lights and ornaments with fascination.

One of the femmes, a corporal named Jessie Landen turned and paused holding out a handful of tinsel to Silverbow. She stared at Jessie then the tinsel, tentatively reaching out for it at last. She took it then ran back to stand behind Bluestreak holding the silver tinsel as she looked at the soldiers. They waited smiling, then turned and began to put some more on the tree.

When the tree was all trimmed, the soldiers hugged, thanked and gone away only then did Silverbow walk to the tree and very carefully, one long strand at a time place it on the bows of the tree.

Ratchet and the others watched, emotion diminishing conversation as they watched the tiny femme place each piece of tinsel just so.

=0=Jazz, later that afternoon

He walked to the conference room for the update briefing for Senior Autobots and entered sitting down to hand out datapads with the latest intel. The operation was go and Nast was making preparations. They would use a jet to take the 'packages' to Texas from a pick up spot in Oregon. A team of four of his 'best operatives' would be run by the Field Ops general himself, Tom Jaspers.

They sat and discussed the intel for an joor and then broke, following Ratchet to the younglings' play room. Entering, they stood and looked emotion rising in their processors. The four little younglings were sitting in a circle around the Christmas tree looking with bright optics at the pretty lights and decorations in the darkened room, touching them, watching them spin colorfully. Behind them sitting together were a dozen off duty Autobots watching the children's delight with the same emotion.

Prime reached out and squeezed Prowl's servo. Neither trusted themselves to do anything more.

=0=

 

#86: The Mole, Part Two

 

=0=Diego Garcia

He walked from his barracks strolling with a newspaper from home in his hand. He had read it in the mess hall and found it interesting. His high school football team was on their way to the state championship playoffs, his hometown was getting money to rebuild the bridge that traversed the river out by his uncle's farm and the Autobot's children were a topic on everyone's mind.

That he was the one responsible for the children being common knowledge, something the Autobots were working hard to prevent didn't bother him. He was just doing his job. For Nast.

The Intel-Martin C.E.O. had suggested that they change up some of their routings and when Todd had requested a change of assignment he had given the packet of photos and observations to Todd to carry out with him. He said it was a resume. The only reason that Todd didn't chuck it was Nast had asked him to bring it to him personally. So he did.

Nast had disseminated it throughout the media by contacts cultivated and purchased through years of effort. The children were speculated upon by people all over the world who only had a peripheral sense of who and what the Cybertronians actually were. Images circulated on the internet, youtube hosting channels with blurred video that often were taken down by order of the Department of Defense and images from cell phones that showed very indistinct giant colorful robots usually shooting things up. There was only one blurred image of Optimus Prime and that disappeared on the day it hit the internet.

What people didn't know was that the Autobots had a roving spider finding the images and taking down any of Optimus and all that were clear enough to detect much detail. The release of the pictures of the younglings to widespread viewership was something that no one could put back into the bottle.

His colleagues were furious, especially the special ops from N.E.S.T. who knew the Autobots best. Listening to them speculate that someone on base was a spy sent a chill down his spine and he worked to be extra careful. He was afraid of what they would do to him if he made a mistake and was uncovered. He would have to be sneakier than he was now.

What he didn't know was that the Autobots already knew and were doubling down on him as he walked unaware and at relative ease. He walked into the office where he worked and greeted the three Army and one Air Force women who promptly told him about the Christmas tree that they had set up for the 'adorable little kids' in the Autobot HQ.

=0=December 21st, early morning

They left on Cosmos disappearing in the darkened skies without drawing attention. They had walked to the ship in ones and twos, their gear stowed on Cosmos over a period of days. Jazz, Mirage, Sideswipe, Ironhide, Hound and Optimus were gone, flying away to a rendezvous with Nast.

He had bought their story that High Flyer had procured Arcee and Springer and would bring them to a warehouse in Oregon for him to pick up. He had bought the invitation to come in person to meet High Flyer, to discuss future projects and his ties to the Decepticons who High Flyer had intimated were responsible for his bounty.

The
Autobots led by Jazz had blocked any of these communications from going to High Flyer who would not know this event was occurring. They rerouted Nast's emails in and out of Teletraan II, ghosting replies to the two messages High Flyer had intended for him to get so Starscream would not know they were attempting to nail his puppet.

Optimus sat on Cosmos comm linked to Diego and Prowl discussing the arrangements for their 'guest' when they returned. He asked for status on Autobot City and felt a swell of pride in the results of the munitions testing and the organization Springer had instituted. He commed off and relaxed aware that Nast had no idea of the firepower he was going to face and that they would have a possible 'ally' into the next phase of Optimus' thinking … the capture or death of Starscream.

At this point with the number of sparks depending on sanctuary both at Autobot City and beyond in the galaxy he was willing to entertain the later.

=0=Rogue Valley, Oregon

They had arrived the night before scouting the warehouse, then settling into a motel in the nearby town of Central Point. The warehouse was just a short hop from the Rogue Valley International Medford Airport and they had arranged their trucks and routes accordingly. He could see why High Flyer chose the area. It had enough of what they needed without being too urban to be a problem.

The area they were operating within had open spaces scattered among businesses and big box stores. It was perfect for a hand off. There was very little activity beyond Crater Lake Highway and a few roads used by trucks to skirt traffic once darkness set in. The warehouse was part of several next to Central Point Software and was surrounded by a chain link fence. The gates were open during the day and closed at night, the time the pickup would be made. No problem, Nast and Jaspers considered. It was otherwise relatively lightly secured.

Turning to walk back to their SUV, the two men drove into Medford and had lunch at the Far East Restaurant unaware that they were being followed by a jeep and a Bentley Continental, their holographic drivers intent upon their asses.

=0=Central Point, Oregon, T-minus four joors

They parked in the lot of the Rogue Valley Fairgrounds, scattered here and there as they waited for nightfall. Cosmos had let them out in a field south of Ashland, the dirt road that cut it in two leading them to Interstate 5 and the short eighteen mile drive to Medford. The warehouse they had arranged was innocuous and secure enough to funnel the enemy inside so they could be more easily subdued. Nights in the area this time of year were very dark so they would be able conclude their business without much fuss once they neutralized the lighting both inside and outside of the warehouse. Of course, two of them would already be parked inside cutting the odds even more in their favor.

Nast and Jaspers' plane was due to land in two joors so they broke up, Sideswipe and Jazz rolling to the warehouse to wait inside. Ironhide and Prime would maintain surveillance of the warehouse from posts nearby as Mirage and Hound followed the enemy during the downtime leading to the night incursion before Mirage would become the bait car.

All it took now was patience.

=0=Diego Garcia

The mole finished work walking toward the flight line to get the cricks out of his legs. The planes fascinated him, the real ones and the Autobots. The Aerialbots that had been missing had just arrived, transforming to walk to the piece of land beyond that the others had claimed as their own. It had been an awesome sight to watch, three gigantic robotic entities walking together with excitement toward the tie-down where two others waited, one of them transformed and waving to show them where they were. It was odd to see something familiar, friends excitedly greeting friends among such different creatures.

The normal flights were going in and out, the big bombers sat nearby, their wings sagging at rest and Cosmos was gone. He wondered where the shuttle had gone, perhaps to the Oort Field to do sensor work. He often did that and it amazed him that Cosmos could go to the edge of the solar system, to the fucking solar well and back again in less than half a day. That was past Pluto he thought shaking his heads.

He turned and walked back stretched, relaxed and filled with admiration of the entities among them. As he passed the Autobot HQ he saw a very small Autobot standing in the doorway peering out. It was small, white and red and had a little Autobot insignia on his shoulder. He stared at the mole looking at him intently, then stepped back shyly into the shadows. Big hands reached down and picked him up and he disappeared into the hangar looking over an Autobot's shoulder, watching him as he watched the child. He stood and stared, wishing he could come inside, then he turned and walked on.

The irony of the moment and his actions was completely lost upon him as he did.

=0=Oregon, at T-2 breems

The sky was dark overhead, the kind of velvety black that only Northwestern skies could muster. The SUV bearing Nast and Jaspers along with two of their four hired guns drove toward the warehouse along the road that ran parallel to it. They drove past it, moving onward, peering at it with night vision glasses. No one was moving and it seemed calm and normal. Then a car shot past them going in the other direction, heading toward the warehouse and turning into it. The gate of the fence moved, motivated by an electronic switch most likely held by the driver of the vehicle.

They turned and rolled up pausing by the road that led to the warehouse, watching as a late model Bentley Continental drove up to park by it, shadows of the building blocking a clear view.

"What do you think?" Jaspers asked glancing at Nast.

"I think Mr. High Flyer drives a nice car," Nast said smirking. "Let's go. Can't keep our good friend waiting."

Jaspers radioed the other two operatives to sit tight, the trucks they were driving parked farther away on the turn outs on the Medco Haul Road. Nast drove slowly forward, the men behind him slipping the safeties off the handguns they carried. Rolling down the dirt track to the warehouse, they took stock of the area.

Parked to one side, shadows from the smaller outbuildings obscuring it somewhat was a large Peterbilt semi tractor truck. Nearby, a tarp partially obscuring it, a GMC pick up also was parked. The Bentley was parked near the door to the warehouse so they rolled closer, turning the SUV and rolling backwards to park so it would be facing outward in case of problems.

They sat in the SUV a moment, then they all stepped out, the two armed men moving as planned to the warehouse, scouting out the perimeter as Nast and Jaspers stood in the front looking this way and that. Nast pulling out a handgun, slipping the safety walked toward the GMC pick up. With care and skill, he peered under the tarp and into the cab spying nothing out of order. Jaspers checked out the semi, admiring the paint scheme even as it prickled something deep in his mind.

Walking back meeting their two operatives, they then turned and aimed together silencers engaged. Shooting in tandem, they put out the big spotlights that had given the area a decent amount of light. Turning, they walked to the warehouse and entered. Behind them covered in the cloak of darkness, a pick up truck and a semi tractor transformed quietly and unsheathing weapons of their own walked toward a Bentley that was already fading away from view.

=0=Inside at the same time

A big box sat in the middle of an empty warehouse along with a pair of covered shapes that appeared to be cars. A black tarp covered what appeared to be a Lamborghini and a white tarp covered what appeared to be a silver Porsche. Both of them were parked against the back wall well away from the big box in the middle. Nast and Jaspers leaning against the wall sent their two hired guns to scout the situation as they provided cover.

A thorough investigation revealed no one present and they walked together toward the box, a single overhead light the only illumination.

"Where's High Flyer?" Nast asked looking around, his gun held in readiness.

"I don't know," Jaspers said nervous tension in his voice. He turned and walked to the door they had entered, opening it and pausing, frozen to the spot.

A light filtered in, orangish yellow and a hot wave of energy followed it. Nast turned freezing as well as the four of them looked into a cylinder of molten lava. It was leveled at the door, pointing directly at them and at the end of it clenched tightly was an enormous black metallic fist.

Backing away at last, prickly needles of fear informing their entire bodies they staggered toward the middle of the room. As they did the sounds of transformation filled the warehouse as the two covered cars changed. Covers slid off and they rose up, weapons drawn, cold blooded murder on their faceplates. They moved forward, one of them rolling on wheel skates and the other walking silently on metallic feet that looked like they could kick a hole through titanium.

The light caught the two in shadows, the frightening aspect of their expressions and the incredible firepower they wielded blanking the minds of the humans as they turned in a circle jerkily pointing their own inadequate weapons at the two who were advancing and the gigantic cannon filling their only escape route.

Then the warehouse doors began to slide upward, the sound of them grating and intense in the coagulated silence that surrounded them. They turned and stared, seeing the beginnings of feet, then massive blue legs and finally the legs knelt, a face appearing before them, a face from their deepest nightmares.

The door slammed and they looked at it seeing it as their only escape. They ran to it and tugged, unable to pull it open. Then there was another in the growing hangar doorway, a huge black hulking presence followed by a hulking green giant as a third joined them. They moved toward the box and bumped into something. They turned, guns pointed and stared into thin air. Reaching out a shaking hand, Nast felt something metallic and jumped back shouting.

As they stood in a group, backs pressed against the box, a shape solidified in front of them, a tall blue and white Autobot. He knelt peering down into their faces with scorn and disgust clearly on his face. "Boo," he said softly as Optimus Prime and Ironhide stepped inside, the doors slowly falling, sealing off the scene from outside.

=0=

 

#88: “Boo”

 

=0=Ops Center, Diego Garcia

Prowl stood at the communications station listening to the audio of the mission that had gone to Oregon to close a window in their operation. He was profoundly annoyed but only a person well versed in his personna would know that. Door wings arched high, a coiled tension in his posture, he thought briefly of the source of his ire.

The mole was never off their radar now, followed either by optics or sensors day and night. Every single sneeze he made was logged and data miners were detailing every possible communications possibility that he could access.

He was their nemesis and Prowl was on guard. What truly ripped him happened earlier.

Spirit mustering the nerve to peer out of the hangar door had spotted a human passing by. Unattended for just a brief moment as Prowl checked off a datapad handed to him he had moved to the door and looked out. The little mech had met optics with a human who had paused and smiled at him holding his gaze for a moment. Finally, fearfully, he shifted back shyly into the building. Prowl turning to the youngling again noticed that the human Spirit was watching was the mole who had made public knowledge of Spirit's presence among them, thereby raising the danger factor for his safety exponentially.

Turning, quickly picking him up Prowl retreated to the youngling room as fast as he could. It still rankled him greatly and he would tell Optimus about it when the team came back with their prize. He had no doubts that they would. But he would hold the moment in abeyannce, allowing the team to focus on the master even as he wanted to find the apprentice and rend him limb from limb.

=0=A warehouse in Oregon

They stood in front of the box, arms pointed upward as the six gigantic monsters moved closer, their own weapons pointed and aimed at them. Nast gasping for air in his fright stepped to the side and turned pointing his gun at Hound. He fired emptying his clip into Hound's chassis, the bullets bouncing off, landing here and there, some of them at Nast's feet, gouging holes in the concrete.

No one spoke, the six pairs of blue optics watching as the humans milled around each other trying to find something to save them from what the Autobots knew they believed was a slow horrible death. Finally, one of the hired guns tossed his weapon down and raised his hands stepping forward uncertainly.

"I surrender! Don't shoot me!" he cried as a big hand reached down and grabbed him.

Jazz holding him high gazed downward, his weapon coming closer. "Drop your guns or I'll make sure you don't have a home to go to ever again."

The three looked at him and the others, then threw their guns down, the weapons skittering toward Ironhide. He picked them up and pinched them between his fingers dropping them at the feet of the three men who looked at them with disbelief.

Jazz set the man he was holding down on the box, then picked up the others placing them on the lid as well. Optimus Prime watching without a word moved closer and knelt staring at them silently, his anger clear, his affect menacing.

Nast gathering himself together cleared his dry throat and swallowed hard. "I am William Nast of Intel-Martin."

Optimus nodded leaning even closer to Nast. "We know," he said, his deep baritone filled with darkness. "I am Optimus Prime."

Nast closed his eyes and exhaled, a soft keening sound coming from deep inside.

=0=Starscream

He sat on the bluff nearby their ship, the crashed Nemesis no more comfortable than the stones and dirt he sat upon. Nast had wanted Springer and Arcee even more than before and he had decided to give them to him. He had to locate them and so he leaned upon the mole, the treacherous human that was playing Nast and him off against one another. Of course, the pitiful insect didn't know he was aware of that. The insect Daniels wasn't aware that his 'billionaire ideological' friend was a Decepticon either and he would use both of them to find his prey.

He was also aware that Nast knew he, High Flyer had ties to the Decepticons. Starscream had dropped enough hints that the dolt finally got it. He knew that Nast found proximity to that much danger a drug. 'Danger junkies' the insects called that kind of personality. 'Useful idiot' was what Starscream called them.

He had sent a message to the board thereby getting word to the mole that he wanted the location of Arcee and Springer. He wanted them for Nast to seal the deal, to make him so tainted that he couldn't possibly give up on the gravy train or if caught get a deal that could be less worse than facing Starscream's wrath.

His mind was still hazy and Springer, Optimus Prime's bondmate, his whore was still an obsession that wouldn't go away. He had wanted to give Springer back with a present for Prime but giving him to Nast to be carved into bits and pieces wasn't a bad idea either. Both would be fine, the attainable one would be sufficient over the preferred one.

Thundercracker and Sky Warp perched on a rocky outcropping nearby watched Starscream with concern, exchanging glances as they waited. His obsessions were becoming troublesome and the nearness to the truth each interface allowed was also troublesome. Their firewalls were being questioned and it was almost a relief that the obsession with Prime was so diverting. It kept Starscream that much farther than finding out the truth. They dreaded the orn he did.

=0=Oregon

"What do you want?"

The question hung in silence as they stared at the Autobots who stood towering over them with expressions ranging from grim disgust to homicidal rage. One of them, a red bot with psychotic eyes rolled slowly in a circle, his eyes never leaving them as his sheathed and unsheathed his swords.

The blue and white one was standing to one side looking at them as if they were the lowest form of life he had ever encountered. A smaller bot, the silver one who had picked them up was beside him, his hand resting on the snob's shoulder. It was hard to see the face of the big monster before them, a solid black creature with enormous cannons and a head with spires like satanic horns topping it. His eyes could drop a charging bull with a single glance Nast thought in a rare lucid moment.

The green bot, tall and stoic stood behind their leader his optics fixed on the four even as he trained his weapons to follow their every movement. Their leader studied them, allowing them to stew in their juices, then he leaned forward again. "You have been a very, very bad boy, Mr. Nast. We have been following you since the beginning, watching your every move, your contacts with High Flyer, your treason."

Nast swallowed. "I … if you let me explain..."

"We shall," Optimus said rising once again. "Back at Diego Garcia." He turned and nodded at Jazz who moved toward them. The last thing Nast could remember seeing clearly was four steel fingers reaching down and grasping him tightly.

=0=Ops Center, Diego Garcia

Prowl commed confirmation back, then stepped away giving the conn to Ratchet who was sitting at Teletraan II. Walking out of the command center, turning left and moving toward the officer's quarters corridor he reached his own and opened the door quietly. Sitting on a chair reading a novel, First Aid glanced up smiling. He nodded at the oversized berth where three little mechs were in recharge, a soft blanket covering them as they lay together arms around each other.

Prowl smiled back and walked to them leaning down to fuss with their blanket. He kissed Rambler's helm, then turned pausing beside First Aid. "They're coming back with the prisoners. I don't know when I can be back but I can have Blue relieve you, First Aid."

"I'm fine, Prowl. I don't mind." First Aid looked at the younglings, the first ones this small he had ever seen in his life. "I enjoy them."

Prowl smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "So do I," he said turning to look at them fondly. Then he turned again, nodding to First Aid and left the room walking back to Ops Center again.

=0=On the way

They had bundled the prisoners into the box and loaded it onto Prime's trailer. Driving out slowly, leaving a few nanokliks apart they drove back to the field outside of Ashland for pickup. Cosmos set down and they transformed, pulling the wooden box out of Prime's trailer, the big truck transforming himself and climbing aboard. Taking off slowly Cosmos cleared the atmosphere roaring into a higher altitude that would allow him to drop into Diego Garcia without wasted time.

By the time he had landed a Black GMC pick up truck rolled out of Cosmos' hold, a tarp covering its bed. Optimus Prime, Hound, Mirage, Sideswipe and Jazz followed spread out over two breems and walked to the HQ as if it were any other day.

=0=Later on that morning

Graham and Epps were jogging to the obstacle course intending to work out before the heat settled in. They would be going home for Christmas break, a period that would extend into January, a full thirty day leave. They would be on call of course and their families knew that they would be. But they would be together for Christmas and New Years, a bittersweet thing. They loved their comrades and enjoyed their company. Seeing in the New Years with the Autobots was a great occasion and they already missed it.

Jogging onward, prepared already for Cosmos to drop them off at Vandenburg Air Base so they could be home swifter and longer they passed the HQ without a clue.

=0=Prime

He entered the command deck smiling at Prowl who rose and walked to him, both embracing each other. Prime warmed from helm to ped looked down getting the executive version from his bond. They then turned, the command assumed by Jazz who had followed them in, smiling at the sight of two of the most aggregiously dedicated and self denying bots he had ever known indulging in a little bit of PDA.

They walked to their quarters entering quietly, nodding to First Aid who was working on his third novel. Walking to the berth, Prime smiled down at the three little younglings cuddled together. Prowl leaned against him smiling at the mechs with a soft expression. Prime glancing at Prowl thought back to the bluff on Mars and the sad tale of Bluestreak.

Prowl had been traumatized by the fall of Praxus as had Ironhide but they seldom if ever talked about it. The horror of their city falling into ashes was something all the Autobots could recount. They all had the same story but not everyone had been back to their homes, sifting through the dead on familiar streets for anything at all that might live.

Seeing Bluestreak wandering shocked and bleeding, frightened out of his own self awareness for some time after, that had been severe. Bluestreak was his youngling now, the only survivor of an entire city once filled with life, learning, beauty and people. A smoldering crater in the ground, a smoldering memory in his mind, Prowl had saved himself by saving Bluestreak. And now here with these three mechs he was doing it again. Prime knew that they would raise the mechs, that Prowl would be as tireless and protective with them as he was with Bluestreak. It was fine with him. Someone had to take them in and give them hope and happiness once more. There were five more orphans at Autobot City that needed someone and he would have to make sure they got someone to love and care for them and their special condition. Having these mechs and the femme here would make that easier to do. The Autobots loved these little ones deeply.

He smiled as Prowl took Rambler's servo and tucked it under the covering. Then together they walked to the door thanking First Aid quietly and exited walking back to the matters at hand once more.

=0=In the brig

They sat in separate cells, bars of energy preventing them from even thinking of escaping. Red Alert weapon in hand, sitting on a bench in front of them watched them with only an intensity that he could provide. Inferno standing nearby with his weapon in full display followed his Prime's orders.

"Scare them to death, Inferno."

Prime had said that to him and he had nodded only too glad to oblige. These were the turborats that were harassing the younglings, marshalling the public against them everywhere they could and these were the fraggers that wanted to carve up Springer and Arcee.

Over his dead chassis Inferno said to himself, his anger clearly displayed in all its horrifying glory. The two stood and sat watching the humans squirm as they awaited their Prime once more.

=0=

 

#89: “SUNSTREAKER! YOU FRAGGER!”

 

=0=Diego Garcia

The day drifted by, the soldiers leaving for their break coming to say adieu. Cosmos was taking them to Vandenburg and a couple of other bases that were close to their actual homes to cut down on the drive time. There were N.E.S.T. soldiers about but they weren't the first string, most of whom were survivors of the base attack by Blackout a few years back.

No one could imagine that the Autobots had prisoners in their brig and without their permission to enter or a disclosure on the Autobot's part no one ever would. Prime followed by Jazz and Ironhide walked to the brig nodding to the jailers and turned pausing before the cells. Inside, sitting on the ground in utter fear and dejection Nast and his party waited.

They stirred arising slowly and fearfully, the enormity of their situation dawning upon them. They were in the hands of a different and completely alien point of view. They had no idea that these robotic entities could understand that they were fragile and easily killed. They wouldn't know that they had rights and protections because they were American, human and this was their planet filled with their own kind.

What if these aliens used summary execution and no one would ever find out what happened to them? What if they handed them over to their other colleagues and they were used for weird alien experiments? All of the most haunting scenes of every alien movie they had ever seen had passed through their minds collecting in their guts to make short work of their personal courage, self-image and egos. They were at the mercy of machines, constructs like their computers, cars and microwaves. How could anyone hope to believe that such things could have souls, empathy and the ability to understand how much they could hurt another being? How much 'other' were these creatures?

It all crossed their minds that they were in the custody of individuals that might not have the capacity to think about the differences between right and wrong any more than a car could when the driver runs a red light. There might not be any sort of reflection, no moral capacity nor any hope of coming out of this in one piece. That they themselves didn't accord anything close to the same to their own numerous victims didn't enter their minds once.

Prime could see the emotions, could almost follow their thinking line by line. Leaving them in the brig alone guarded by two of the most intense Autobots in the garrison was part of the strategy that he was going to be using to get what he wanted in the end, Starscream. Cut off the head of the snake, the body dies. A wise thought the humans were wont to say. So true he thought as he stood looking at them.

Moving closer, looking down from his great height he considered them. One of them, a hired gun stepped forward pausing. "I'm just a hired hand. I didn't have a say in what they were doing. I'm just a worker. I would like to know what you want to know. I might be able to help you."

Nast looked at his employee, fury forming on his face. He turned and clenched his hands. "Traitor!"

Ironhide snorted. "That's amusing. We were sort of thinking that about you, Nast."

Nast glancing sharply at Ironhide stepped back bumping into the cell's bench as he did. They looked at each other, Autobot and human, then Prime nodded to Red Alert, the Autobot reluctantly releasing the bars. Prime bending down slowly, his hand reaching out gripped Jaspers and rose up again stepping back so the bars could be reactivated. Turning without a sound, he walked out with the others and his prize leaving the rest of them to listen to the screams of Jaspers until they died away.

Inferno retrieving his place against the wall once more stared at them without mercy as the silence enveloped them again.

=0=Ratchet

He worked in Ops Center as the drama in the brig continued. Ironhide had filled him in with their usual shorthand as he continued with Optimus toward the ultimate goal: Starscream. It was nearly Christmas and here they were sitting around figuring out how to make life better against the tide.

He had hit the internet to figure out what it was all about in more detail and considered that he liked it, the multi-layered concept of joyous materialism and solemn religiosity an interesting blend of the sacred and the profane. He was no slouch in the profane department. He had after all first met Ironhide in a bar. He of course had been terribly smitten. Ratchet smiled and remembered …

"So, Ratchet, how about a drink after shift?" he had asked leaning in the doorway, shiny and handsome and dashing and intensely masculine.

Ratchet lounging in his office after a long day of fixing up shiny, handsome, dashing and intensely masculine mechs who didn't seem to grasp the concept of ducking was smitten even more though he had refused a drink the night before in a bar after being introduced by a drunken mutual friend with tentacle digits. Laying the friend out had taken no time but it had impressed the big mech with the bluest optics Ratchet had ever seen a great deal. Intrigued though he was, Ratchet couldn't let the big lug know too much. What would be the fun in that? "Sure."

Ironhide, a satisfied smirk on his faceplates and a swagger in his rather intriguingly awesome aft turned on his peds and left. Ratchet no slouch in the looks department himself given the number of mechs that hit on his yellow chassis with almost comical regularity smirked. "See how much you swagger when I get through with you, Ironhide."

He sat back closing his eyes in fatigue and considered the big black mech who just happened to turn up everywhere he went after the bar scene. He was even sure if he opened the cooler he would see big blue handsome optics leering out at him. Ratchet liked him, liked his big format, his funny sense of humor and even his designation.

Iron. Hide.

He surely had it. Lord knows his colleagues had put it back together enough times. He had once himself. It was hard to have distance when you're face down inside a big chassis, the servos of said chassis caressing your aft. Even the threat of a rap on the helm with a hammer couldn't swerve the aforementioned mech from his eternal fondles.

Ratchet had shined himself up at the hospital shower racks and was walking to the entrance when he saw Ironhide standing in the doorway haloed by the light, waiting for him as he said he would. Ratchet felt his spark tug, then he gathered himself together pausing and looking up at his date. "So what brings you here, big boy?"

"Good lookin' mechs," Ironhide said slipping his arm around Ratchet and applying his hand to Ratchet's back for the first time ever.

"You look for dates at hospitals?" Ratchet asked chuckling and finding a gentlemenly touch a nice change of pace for once.

"Never know what will crawl out. Literally," Ironhide said chuckling.

They went to a nice club, drank a lot of high grade and danced. Ironhide couldn't, Ratchet was a whiz. Somewhere in the middle Ratchet fell in love and never left. However that didn't mean he wouldn't make Ironhide work for his reward. Ratchet didn't put out on the first date. What was there to do on the second one if you did he thought with a chuckle as they swayed and sashayed their way out into the dark night of Iacon.

Ironhide seduced by Ratchet from first glance gripped him around the waist as they both walked down the empty street. Behind them, the sound of laughter, chatter and music faded. They were both drunk and feeling no pain, the idea of making it to the Citadel where both were stationed on peds alone looking daunting.

Ironhide paused looking this way and that for transport. There was none. He turned and looked at Ratchet who was swaying and grinning at him. "You look beautiful."

"You're pretty cute yourself," Ratchet managed before they launched themselves at each other. Staggering backward into an alley, necking furiously, they fell to the ground rolling repeatedly. Then they gave in to drink and fell into a stuporous recharge.

The next day the sound of garbage collection drones woke them up and they walked to the Citadel to start a new day. It would be a longer chase this time but in the end they would both give in.

Ratchet's way.

=0=Sideswipe and Bluestreak

They sat together in the lounge off the rec room, peds up on the table before them as Bluestreak snuggled against Sideswipe's chassis. "Sunstreaker is aware you're with me." He grinned and pulled Blue closer.

"You and your bond," Bluestreak said looking up at Sideswipe. "Tell him hi for me."

Sideswipe paused a moment and chuckled. "You don't want to hear what he replied."

Blue grinned and snuggled closer watching the mechs in the rec room beyond.

=0=Ironhide v Ratchet

"You're kidding."

Ratchet could remember the exact words and expression on Ironhide's face as he laid down his terms as well as the wrench he had used to tighten the last bolt on Ironhide's knee assembly.

"Nope."

Ironhide looked at Ratchet considering the challenge in his optics, the smirk on his face and the incredible attraction of his yellow aft. "You're on."

"You're finished," Ratchet said glancing over his shoulder. "NEXT FOOL!"

Ironhide hopped down skirting Ratchet and as the medico turned back to the berth to clean up Ironhide gave him a sound slap on his yellow aft.

Ratchet turning shook his head and the tools in his hand. "You'll have to do better than that," Ratchet said smirking. "You aren't the only mech out there."

Ironhide knowing the truth of that smirked. "But I'm the one who is going to land you, ya big yellow aft."

"Don't try and sweet talk me, Ironhide," Ratchet said laughing.

"Tonight. I'll come and get ya," Ironhide said turning to walk to the door with an excess of satisfaction in his step. Ratchet watched him go and smiled. Tonight was going to be fun.

Ironhide clearing the door casually hurried to the medical library annex down the corridor and pulled a cable out of his wrist. Plugging in, he searched the database and pulled up relevent files, books, treatises and entertainment videos as he brushed up on his technique for the evening.

/… audition for ya, ya slagger … I don't have to audition … when I 'face someone they stay 'faced … frag, that's a good one …/

He downloaded that one and several others, then headed for the mech's club down the street to get a wash, a wax and a detailing for the only mech he would ever demean himself enough to woo to this degree of humiliation.

Ratchet the awesome he thought. Ratchet the one who by Primus was going to be his. For Ratchet the Beautiful, Ironhide would suffer.

=0=Bluestreak and Sideswipe

They sat on the couch necking, talking quietly and enjoying the company of the other. Winding down with someone was a good thing Sideswipe thought smirking. :… right, Sunny? …:

:Frag you, Sideswipe! I'll kick your aft! I'll tear your aft off and shove it down your throat!:

That was when Sideswipe tamped down the twin bond preferring to give all the attention he had to Bluestreak and his amazing lips.

=0=Ratchet and Ironhide

He stood in the doorway of the hospital shined, spiffed and ready to rumble. Ironhide arrived at about the same time as shiny as a new penny himself. They stood and admired their reflection in the other's chassis, having a good joke about how slippery it was going to be shortly, then they walked off together on the first day of the great adventure that was going to be Ratchet v Ironhide.

=0=Lounge

A rap on the wall interrupted their moment and they looked up, then straightened up quickly. Prowl standing in the doorway with a severe expression on his face shook his head. "No intimacy for three decaorns."

Bluestreak nodded glancing at a shame-faced Sideswipe. Prowl turned to go, then paused turning around smirking. "You might thank Sunstreaker for me knowing about you two." Then he turned and left, a soft chuckle trailing behind.

Bluestreak smiling in spite of himself looked at Sideswipe who had an expression of utter surprise on his face. Then he paused looking distant as he opened up the twin bond again. :Sunstreaker! YOU FRAGGER!:

Bluestreak just sat back anticipating the entertainment value of their endless moments some day soon when he would be able to hear it too.

=0=Prime

He walked into the conference room and set Jaspers on the table, one of the soldier's chairs catching him as he shrank back. Prime, Ironhide, Jazz, Prowl and Springer were facing him, Springer coming in from Autobot City for the interrogation. They stood and stared down at the human, himself almost insignificant in comparison. "Mr. Jaspers, I want to know what you know. And I need you to make sure you don't leave out a thing."

Jaspers stared at Prime, his mind in a jumble, then he decided to throw himself on the mercy of the truth. He sat back, gathered his thoughts and began to spill his guts, Nast be damned.

By the time he was finished it was clear that Nast probably would be.

=0=

 

#90: Spill

 

=0=Earlier

They sat at a table in the rec room together, servos in laps, little blue optics following everything silently. Around them sat many of the off duty mechs enjoying the company of the younglings, some of them for the first time in their lives since their own younglinghood. Bluestreak and Sideswipe directed by Ratchet mixed the energon formula that the little ones were going to be on for a while to ease their stressed underdeveloped chassises back into shape for regular energon.

Silverbow watching Hound as Trailblazer held her cup was as silent as ever. The two of them found she loved her little cup, sleeping with it as she recharged between them. It was probably the first personal possession she ever had. It was yellow, had her name on it in Cybertronian glyphs and was designed and gifted to her by Sunstreaker before she left for Earth. All of the mechs present were watching carefully as Ratchet explained how their food would work for a while.

They each received their cups filled with the special formula, the three little mechs and the femme. Then the difficult part began. Hound and Trailbreaker nervously stood behind Silverbow, Hound kneeling to encourage her as she took dainty sips with long pauses between. She was still suffering from deprivation and the newer belief that someone would take her cup away from her. Hound arose and looked worriedly at Ratchet. "Why is she not drinking more? She's so little and ... she's ... I would think she was hungry."

Ratchet took them aside. "She's been without for so long that she can't believe she can have what she's got. She also isn't entirely well. I put supplements in the energon for the minerals and metals that they weren't given. I also put something in to soothe assimilation of the energon. They could be harmed if fed too fast or too rich. You have to be patient. There is no right or wrong way here to get them to eat. They will eat if we don't make an issue of it."

Hound, his expression stricken leaned into Trailbreaker for a moment before pulling himself together. Turning, he walked to the little femme and knelt down smiling at her as she sipped once more. She smiled back at him scooting slightly toward him in her chair. His expression was incredible as he moved closer to her.

Rambler, T-Bar and Spirit were doing better, Rambler helping his brothers as he sat with them, his servo under their cups as they rested between sips, the effort of eating clear on their faceplates. The Autobots behind and around them were grim-faced with the outrage of the childrens' suffering and the unspoken truth that there were more sparklings, younglings and adults out there that needed them too.

=0=Conference room, Autobot HQ, Diego Garcia

Tom Jaspers spilled his guts detailing the entire operation of Intel-Martin from his vantage point and access. They were working with a mysterious billionaire codenamed High Flyer to capture Autobots. The idea was to take the technology and apply it to weapons and other highly saleable items, using the cash to destabilize foreign governments and finance the rise in American and European politics of people who would be amenable to the bidding of both.

They were behind all of the interdictions the Autobots had made including Denver where Ironhide had almost died. They were the group that the trade-off would most benefit once they received the weapons. The biker gang was hired to be intermediary in Denver. Other groups were intermediaries in other attempts, all of them thwarted by the Autobots and N.E.S.T.

They were supposed to meet High Flyer and no, they had no idea who he was. He just funneled money to causes and individuals both inside and outside of government to get the leaverage they all wanted to influence public opinion. Undermining the Autobots in the mind of the public was task number one.

Task number two was capturing the Autobots Springer and Arcee to bind Intel-Martin and Nast to High Flyer once-and-for-all. High Flyer wanted to use Intel-Martin as a platform for their power climb and Nast was a willing accomplice.

Springer sitting in the corner listening stifled the urge to punch the human in the face. They were talking about him, his life, his fraggin' autonomy. No one had introduced anyone so Jaspers didn't know who he was. He listened as the human told about what Intel-Martin had planned to do.

"Did High Flyer tell ya why he wanted to capture these two particular Autobots?" Jazz asked.

Jaspers shook his head. "No. I got the idea that it was personal. Then I don't know half of what Nast said to High Flyer. I just know that Nast found it amusing to talk to High Flyer about the two."

"He talked to High Flyer?" Jazz asked.

Jasper nodded. "Nast told me that he had a funny voice but that the dude was using some sort of scrambler to make sure no one could identify him. Flyer was paranoid. But then I suppose I would be if I was doing direct business with the Decepticons."

It was silent a moment, then Optimus leaned forward. "You are on vacation. Your office and family will be notified. As of now you are a guest of the Autobot Embassy."

Jaspers looked at Prime blinking and swallowing hard. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, his voice quavering.

Prime looked at him shaking his head slightly. "How many people have asked you that, Mr. Jaspers? Think about it and you may have your own answer already." He glanced at Springer. "Could you replace Mr. Jaspers and bring Nast, Springer."

Jaspers jolted looking at the green and yellow mech rising up from a corner chair. "Springer?" he stuttered glancing frantically between Springer and Prime.

"The one and only," Springer said reaching out to grasp Jaspers in his servo. He held him up scrutinizing Jasper and smiled slightly. "Don't worry, Mr. Jaspers. It won't hurt. Much," he said as he turned and walked out the door holding Jaspers in his servo like he was an old rag.

"You really enjoy that don't you," Jazz asked glancing at Prime who turned and looked at him sheepishly. "It never gets old does it?"

Prime smiled slightly. "No, it doesn't."

=0=Ratchet

He sat daydreaming as the day droned on. Ironhide and the others were interrogating the fraggers that were the cause of not only most of their own misery but of misery around the world. It was easier to pass the time trotting down memory lane than thinking about work now that the younglings were fed and resting. Where was he? Ah yes. Their 'courtship'. He grinned.

"Ratchet?"

Ironhide turned and looked at Ratchet who was standing looking up at the hotel where they were going for his 'audition'. Ratchet turned and looked at him with a gimlet eye though it would be vorns and eons and oceans of time before Ironhide would know that was what that was.

"Ironhide ... what is this place?"

"It's a hotel," Ironhide said turning to look at Ratchet quizzically.

"For pleasure drones and sleaze bags," he said. He frowned, his servos resting on his hips as he scrutinized the mechs coming and going. "Rent by the breem?" The sign was discreet but visible.

"Well," Ironhide said glancing up at the façade. "It was recommended."

"By who? A pleasure drone?" Ratchet said his frown deepening.

"It won't be forever, Ratchet. Just until the ..." He grinned and shook his head. "The audition is over."

"Pretty seedy stage, Ironhide," Ratchet said reluctantly following Ironhide inside.

It was equally miserable inside as Ironhide getting the key led Ratchet or rather dragged Ratchet by the servo down the hallway to an end room. Sliding the key in the sensor lock it clicked and Ironhide dragged Ratchet inside. The light came on with their arrival and the room presented itself. There was an oversized berth and nothing else.

Nothing.

Ratchet snorted turning to Ironhide who was looking around rather sheepishly. "You really know how to treat a mech."

"You wanna go some place else?" Ironhide asked looking wan.

"No, Ironhide, I wanna frag."

Ironhide snorted and grinned gripping Ratchet by the waist to pull him against his own chassis. "Why didn't you fraggin' say so, you slaggin' yellow aft?"

Ratchet snorted slipping his arms around Ironhide's broad shoulders for the first time ever.

Sober.

"Shut up and show me what you got."

And he did Ratchet thought pushing a button on the panel. Sitting back he considered that it was a good thing that there wasn't anything else in the room but the berth ...

He lay half off the berth when he came online again. Reaching around he decided he was alone. Sitting up groggily looking around with dimmed optics he found Ironhide offline on the floor. "Slagger," Ratchet said grinning. "Too much mech for your shiny aft I can see."

After a small unaccounted amount of time Ironhide's optics fritzed online and he sat up slowly. Glancing around he looked up catching the bemused expression of his soon-to-be Only One. "You are one slaggin' good old mech. Bond with me."

Ratchet laughed and looked at him fondly. "You're a romantic old fragger I'll hand you that."

"And you're the best looking old slagger on Cybertron."

Ratchet smiled at him knowing he meant it. Then he nodded. And they did.

As he sat pushing buttons on a planet that wasn't his, carrying a sparkling that would be, he thanked Primus for a goodnatured broad shouldered mech like Ironhide to help him take care of it because he sure as slag wasn't going to do it by himself. He might be a slave to the awesomeness that was Ironhide but he wasn't anyone's fool.

:Ratchet:

:What?:

:Just checkin':

:We're fine. How are you?:

:Getting' there:

:Good:

:Ratchet?:

:What?:

:Just checkin':

The warmth that surged over the bond was met and exceeded by that which reached Ironhide in the conference room. To his credit he didn't smile.

=0=TBC

TBC c2010 (12)