Chapter Text
Ratchet POV
The scorching Earth sun rose over the strange alien ship.
In Ratchet’s extremely humble opinion, it sometimes competed with the Pits themselves in a race to determine which one could fry a processor first.
And yet, somehow, the Ark had started looking almost natural against the landscape after millions of stellar cycles spent buried inside a volcanic mountain.
Along with that came the worst joint pain in Cybertronian history.
Ratchet made a mental note to submit an official request at the next high command meeting:
Every Autobot aboard the ship would undergo a full medical examination whether they liked it or not.
Primus alone knew what kind of damage prolonged stasis could do to a mech.
Unfortunately, his crew consisted entirely of stubborn idiots who treated medical checkups like “optional suggestions.”
Ratchet let out a tired vent as he stepped into the medbay—
—CRASH!
—or what *had* been a perfectly peaceful medbay less than five breems ago, before he’d left to search for his beloved wrench.
One of the unfortunate side effects of crashing your ship into a volcano and remaining in emergency stasis for millions of years was that half your belongings simply vanished into the chaos.
Unfortunately, that included the wrench Ratchet usually used to reinforce his medical opinions through perfectly peaceful methods.
“Ha! You’ll never catch me, slowpoke!” a mocking voice shouted across the room.
Sideswipe leapt from one recharge berth to another, barely avoiding the metal hands trying to grab him.
“Seriously, Sunny, are you even trying?”
“You little slagger—!”
Sunstreaker lunged across the medbay in an attempt to catch his twin.
Sideswipe jumped away at the last second, only to land on the examination table and send medical tools and spare parts flying everywhere.
Sideswipe laughed while backing away.
“Come on, Sunny, I swear your polish dries faster than you move—WOAH!”
His taunting cut off abruptly when Sunstreaker caught one of his legs mid-jump and yanked him down.
The twins crashed onto the floor in a tangled heap of limbs and armor plating, instantly devolving into a full wrestling match across the medbay floor.
“And what were you saying, loudmouth?” Sunstreaker asked smugly while pinning his brother down.
Sideswipe let out a nervous laugh.
“That you’re my favorite brother?”
Ratchet watched the scene in complete silence.
Then slowly tilted his helm toward the ceiling and released a long, exhausted vent so powerful that both twins finally froze and noticed his presence.
Despite his overwhelming urge to turn them both into oversized toasters, the first signs of a processor-splitting headache were already forming behind his optics.
And it was far too early in the day for whatever nonsense those two idiots had decided to unleash.
He would deal with them later.
Once this headache stopped trying to kill him.
Ratchet spoke in a cold voice.
“You have three seconds to get out of my sight… or Primus below—”
Before he could finish the threat, both twins bolted out of the medbay at record speed.
Sideswipe tripped halfway through his sprint, scrambled back to his feet, and kept running while muttering bitterly behind the brother who had already reached the exit first.
“Traitor.”
Sunstreaker, who had made it to the door first, didn’t even bother looking back.
Instead, he deliberately slammed the door controls early with a smug grin, forcing Sideswipe to accelerate and slide desperately beneath the closing doors barely a second before they shut.
Their arguing continued loudly through the hallways, though this time it sounded very obvious that the chase had reversed.
Ratchet released another exhausted vent while staring at the surrounding destruction.
“Idiots…” he muttered bitterly.
“Dealing with a sparkling would be easier than dealing with those two.”
A muffled laugh interrupted his thoughts.
Ratchet slowly turned toward the source.
“Heh, careful what you wish for, Ratch,” Ironhide laughed. “You never know. Old Primus might decide to drop a real sparkling in your lap.”
Ratchet gave him a flat stare.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Ironhide. And where in the Pits were you while those two nightmares decided to turn my medbay into a fragging playground?”
“Well…” Ironhide shifted awkwardly. “I heard the noise and thought you’d finally found your cursed— uh,i mean beloved wrench. Then the twins ran past me at full speed.”
He paused to glance around the destroyed medbay.
“But seeing as nothing was flying through the air…” he added while rubbing the back of his neck, “I figured you still haven’t found it?”
“No,” Ratchet muttered while pressing his fingers against his optics. “Still missing.”
Ironhide gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat.
“Don’t worry. It’ll turn up eventually.”
“Hey, listen, why don’t we head to the rec room and grab some energon?” Ironhide offered.
Then he grumbled while wiping at his helm.
“Or maybe some coolant with this slagging heat.”
“I definitely need a drink or two…” Ratchet muttered, deciding to leave the current disaster for later.
Ironhide chuckled lightly.
“Heheh, isn’t it a little early for drinking?”
Ratchet didn’t bother answering.
He simply headed toward the door.
But just as he exited, a sarcastic grin spread across his faceplate while he hit the close button before Ironhide could follow him.
Unlike Sideswipe, the door actually shut in Ironhide’s Faceplate.
Ironhide blinked at the closed door before muttering with quiet amusement and absolutely no real offense:
“Well… guess we know where the twins learned their attitude from.”
A moment later, the door reopened.
Ironhide followed the medic, who was walking ahead with complete innocence as though nothing had happened.
Ratchet didn’t speak again until Ironhide caught up beside him.
“Oh, Hide, you made it,” Ratchet said with fake surprise.
Ironhide merely rolled his optics.
The two continued toward the rec room.
The moment they entered, the usual noise greeted them immediately.
The room buzzed with overlapping Autobot conversations and the low hum of engines, while one of the background screens played an Earth broadcast no one seemed to actually be watching.
Somewhere near the energon dispenser, a series of mechanical coughing noises echoed from the broken ventilation fans Wheeljack had ignored repairing for several cycles.
—which had not helped Red Alert paranoia at all after jazz introduced him to Earth horror movies—
In the far left corner, Bluestreak was attempting to convince Bumblebee that jumping off the Ark using an Earth parachute was “a completely practical idea.”
Meanwhile, near the center of the room, the very scientist responsible for ignoring the energon dispenser repairs stood with Jazz and Hound while enthusiastically talking about something.
“I’m telling you, this invention is completely safe and absolutely won’t explode!” Wheeljack said excitedly while gesturing wildly.
A highly entertained grin spread across Jazz’s Faceplate as though he were simply waiting for the moment things inevitably turned catastrophic enough to become funny.
Hound, meanwhile, smiled politely and said with nervous hesitation:
“Sure, Wheeljack, but maybe you should calm down a little and review the invention with another scientist first so that… you know.”
He finished with a strained smile that made Jazz snort.
“Don’t worry so much, Hound. I’ve got complete confidence in this masterpiece.”
Against all laws of wisdom and common sense, Wheeljack pulled the invention from subspace and proudly held it up for them to see.
That single action caused Hound and Jazz to immediately take two cautious steps backward.
Jazz took one extra step just to be safe.
—He enjoyed entertainment, yes, but preferably not at his own expense.—
At that sight, Ratchet decided to turn around and leave before his headache worsened.
But Ironhide grabbed his shoulder before he could escape.
“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?” Ironhide asked with a wavering grin.
Ratchet silently raised a brow at him.
Ironhide sighed in surrender.
“Look, at least you can stop him before a disaster happens.”
“Heh. Are you sure we lived on the same ship all these years?” Ratchet mocked tiredly.
This time it was Ironhide’s turn to raise a brow.
“Well, aren’t you the most optimistic medic I’ve ever met?” he shot back casually.
“I’m gonna go grab the energon. You try to figure out what Wheeljack’s thing does before the rec room explodes again,” Ironhide told him while heading toward the dispenser.
“Of course. Go take the easy part and leave me with the hard one,” Ratchet replied dryly.
Ironhide simply pretended not to hear the sarcasm.
Ratchet walked toward Wheeljack’s table while thinking about how much harder life had become without the wrench that helped reinforce his medical opinions.
By the time he reached the table, Hound and Jazz had retreated another three steps.
Jazz was now openly attempting to stand behind Hound without making it obvious he was using him as a living shield.
Hound barely maintained his nervous smile while Wheeljack remained completely oblivious due to being deeply invested in explaining the device.
Ratchet prepared himself for whatever fresh nonsense the explosive scientist was about to say.
“And what in Primus’ name do you think you’re doing?”
Ratchet asked sternly, his expression making it very clear he was completely serious and fully prepared to use his beloved wrench—which he still hadn’t found—if anyone said something stupid in the next few seconds.
Wheeljack brightened happily.
“Oh! Hey Ratchet! I was just telling Jazz and Hound about my latest invention, which is—”
He lifted the cursed device toward Ratchet.
Ratchet’s optics widened in horror as he stumbled backward away from the oblivious scientist until he ended up beside Jazz.
“Wheeljack, you rusty maniac, stop waving that thing around!” Ratchet snapped.
Wheeljack hunched sheepishly.
“Heheh, sorry Ratchet. Guess I got a little excited.”
Then he straightened proudly.
“Anyway! This beauty here is my newest creation! A device capable of returning anything to its previous state using age regression technology.”
Dead silence filled the room.
Everyone stared at the scientist who had just casually announced he’d invented some kind of age-reversal machine.
Ratchet finally broke the silence with a horrified whisper.
“By Unicron…”
Jazz immediately nodded.
“You can say that again.”
At that moment Ironhide returned and, in his usual wisdom, chose to stand near Ratchet.
Jazz had fully committed to using Hound as a living shield by this point.
“So, what’d I miss?” Ironhide asked while handing Ratchet an energon cube.
Before Jazz could answer, the Ark alarms suddenly blared.
Red Alert’s voice echoed through the speakers.
“Attention! Decepticon activity detected at the city power station. I repeat, Decepticon activity detected at the city power station. All Autobots prepare for battle immediately.”
The alarms stopped moments later, though the flashing red lights continued throughout the ship.
Hound spoke first.
“Well, looks like duty calls.”
Then left to prepare.
Wheeljack immediately perked up.
“Great! This’ll be the perfect chance to test my invention!”
And promptly sprinted out of the room before anyone could stop him.
“Well, I should get going too. Prowler probably looking for me already,” Jazz said while waving goodbye.
“See ya later.”
“Why do I feel like this day is only going to make my headache worse?” Ratchet muttered while rubbing his faceplate.
“Well, things can’t possibly get any worse, right?” Ironhide joked.
Ratchet stared at him in disbelief.
“You really haven’t lived on the same ship as us, have you?”
Ironhide rolled his optics.
“Aw, come on, I’m just trying to raise your spirits.”
Ratchet tilted his helm dramatically.
“Raise my spirits? You’re trying to curse us with that sentence?!”
“Oh please, it’s not like they’re gonna build— I dunno— some giant flying purple griffin or something,” Ironhide joked.
Ratchet raised his hands in surrender and decided to ignore him while muttering darkly about annoying Lamborghinis, headaches, Ironhide’s terrible sense of humor, and Decepticon idiots who couldn’t even let a mech enjoy one energon cube in peace.
_____________________________
(city power station.)
The battlefield situation could only be described as complete chaos.
All hell had broken loose the moment their beloved scientist decided to test his invention mid-battle.
Honestly, Ratchet wished he could say he was surprised.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t.
But What *did* surprise him, however, was the fact the Decepticons had apparently brought some kind of device too.
And because the universe clearly planning to get him killed personally, they chose to activate it at the exact same moment Wheeljack activated his.
Which resulted in—
—a massive blue explosion that lit up the entire battlefield.
Yeah.
You’re right.
Catastrophe.
The light was so blinding no one could tell who was standing where anymore.
What followed was an eerie silence as both sides attempted to process what had just happened.
The smoke and residual energy slowly began to clear.
And in the center of the battlefield, beside the ruined remains of the Decepticon device, was a tiny shape barely visible among the wreckage.
At first Ratchet assumed it was just debris.
Until it moved.
Ratchet narrowed his optics, trying to identify exactly what he was looking at.
And when realization finally hit—
his entire faceplate paled.
His optics widened almost comically.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” he whispered.
Apparently Primus had heard every single time Ratchet cursed him and had finally decided to take revenge personally.
Because lying on the battlefield was a helpless sparkling.
Ratchet instantly opened a comm channel.
“Prime… I think I’ve finally gone senile,” he said in an oddly calm voice.
“What are you talking about, old friend?” Optimus asked in confusion.
Ironhide, who was standing nearby, looked over in confusion as well while Optimus simply shrugged helplessly.
Ratchet continued in that same disturbingly calm tone.
“There’s a sparkling on the Decepticon side… and they’re moving toward it.”
Silence.
Then Optimus finally spoke.
“I’m sorry… did you say sparkling?”
The idea sounded so absurd that part of Optimus immediately decided Megatron must have hit Ratchet in the helm during the explosion.
Yes.
That made definitely more sense than a sparkling suddenly appearing in the middle of a battlefield.
Beside Optimus, Ironhide slowly placed both servos on top of his helm in disbelief.
“Well… slag. Primus really was listening.”
Prowl’s voice cut sharply across the comms.
“Are you certain about this information, Ratchet?”
Prowl’s was listening to the line because, of course, he was doing that.
Ratchet didn’t answer.
Because he had already launched himself forward at full speed toward the Decepticon front lines.
Because one of them was currently carrying something small dangling from one leg like a piece of scrap.
Oh.
Slag.
Ratchet tore across the battlefield while blaster fire flew around him and protests erupted through the comm channel.
He ignored every single one.
Because the thing dangling from the con servo was the sparkling.
_______________________________
(Decepticon front lines.)
Pharma POV
Cold.
That was the last thing he remembered feeling.
Well.
Cold and the agony chewing through his arms after that barbaric Decepticon cut them off.
But now…
He could feel his servos again.
Except something was wrong.
Different.
At first Pharma assumed it was merely hallucinations caused by the cold.
But that didn’t explain the slightest warmth slowly spreading through his systems, however.
Not when his body had been freezing only moments ago.
Maybe he really was dying.
When Pharma finally forced his optics open, he was greeted by blinding white light.
Ah.
So this was the end.
Finally.
He would return to the AllSpark.
Then he blinked slowly.
Since when did the AllSpark have red optics?
His vision gradually sharpened.
And the moment Pharma realized the shape looming above him was a Decepticon—
his optics widened in absolute horror.
He tried to scream or say anything.
But only for a strange chirping noise to come out instead.
Pharma froze.
Then slowly looked down at his servos
Tiny.
Far too tiny.
Tiny enough to belong to a newly forged sparkling.
A cold wave of terror swept through him.
Part of him still desperately hoped this was some processor-damaged nightmare caused by the cold.
That fragile hope shattered completely when the yellow Decepticon grabbed him by one tiny leg and lifted him into the air like a worthless scrap part.
“Well, well… what’s this thing?” Drag Strip asked curiously while holding the tiny mech up carelessly.
Pharma shrieked in terror while wildly flailing his tiny servos and wings.
“I am officially in the Pits!”
But of course…
All that came out was another furious chirp.