There was fire everywhere. Usually, fire isn't really an issue, but right now I'm trapped in the engine room of a ship that has just exploded outside the atmosphere of a highly oxygenated planet, and there is so much slagging flame, that my optics cant focus. And did I mention I'm trapped in said ship, and its quickly hurtling planetside? Yeah, there's that too.

So all I know is I'm stuck, I cant see, the rest of the crew are somewhere else on the ship, we are hurtling toward the surface of an alien planet, and I'm probably going to die. Typically, Knowledge is a good thing. Of course, what I don't know is worse. It's always worse.

For example, I don't know where the exit is. Or how long I have to get to safety before the ship hits the ground. And if I cant reach safety, will I survive the impact?

But worst of all; where is my team? They had been at the helm of the ship, but I had been in the aft working on repairing the engine which had managed to offline while we were in stasis. Essentially we had been drifting. That was when we were hit by something, and the ship exploded.

So that was where I was now, in the aft of a ship that was in the middle of crashing through the atmosphere of a planet that was completely alien to me.

As the heat from the flames abated a little, I was able to focus my optics and gain my bearings. I located the engine room exit, and made my way toward it. I found the entry blocked by charred pieces of twisted metal and began to work at it using my laser. As I chopped my way through the broken remains of the ship, I could hear the sound of the wind howling through the corridor outside.

I finally push my way through the last of the debris, and the sight I see nearly freezes my spark.

The entire front of the ship, is gone. Torn away by the force of entry into the atmosphere. It is nowhere in sight, and I have to work hard not to let my fear overload my processors. The others. I think fearfully. I could only hope they have gotten to the escape shuttles in time. And that is where I needed to head now. The rate at which we are descending, suggested that I had only kliks before impact.

I turn in the direction of the escape shuttles, and thank Primus that the adjacent corridor is still intact. I begin to run. Time is not on my side, and I would like to live another day. I sprint down the hallway as fast as my pedes can carry me and slide clumsily into the shuttle, hitting the door seal as I go.

I quickly initiate launch sequence, and I am jettisoned away from the ship nanokliks before it hits the earth. The force of the launch throws me against the pilots berth, and for a moment I become disoriented. Regaining my senses, I settle into the berth, and focus my attention on the viewing screen.

Here's the thing about ships, and shuttles, and really any type of flying vehicle; they're supposed to fly. Unfortunately for me, my flying shuttle, was most certainly not flying. I barely had time to register the quickly advancing ground, before I was hitting it.

The shuttle groans and shakes as it tumbles across the ground, and I begin to hear the tearing of metal. All the while, I'm being thrown around the cockpit like a rat in the paws of a cybercat. I'm suddenly regretting not bolting myself into the berth like my creators used to tell me when I was little.

I slam into what used to be the ceiling, and feel something pierce my armour. The following drop in my energy levels is immediate, and I'm sure that I've severed an energon line. I hear some more metal tearing, and catch a glimpse of light, before my optics briefly black out in pain. My system diagnosis tells me I've just fractured one of my backstruts.

At last the shuttle come to a halt. It's landed right side up, and I manage to think; at least there's that. But my hysterical and pain induced moment of humor is cut short, when the supply locker comes unbolted from the wall, and lands on my right pede, effectively crushing the limb.

"Slag it." I groan. I'm trapped, the shuttle is fried. I doubt I could even get the doors to open.

I glance around and spy the medkit, luckily within reach. I grab it, and patch myself up as best I can. But unless I can get out of here soon, I may as well kiss my own aft goodbye. Its really too bad First-Aid isn't here to patch me up. I think.

It takes me a moment to realise that not once, have I tried to contact my team. All it's gonna take is a quick comm-message, and they can come find me and fix me up. I open a comlink channel to the others. "Zeta team, do you copy?" I pause, and get only static. My spark sinks. "Zeta team, this is Silverbolt, I am injured and in need of extraction, quite literally. Femme down, repeat, femme down. Does anybot copy?"

There is only silence on the other end. Great. I think. Now my comlink's busted along with the rest of me.

I search my memory banks desperately for some way to escape this impossible situation, and finally, I am forced to admit to myself that I'm just going to have to wait for rescue. I pray to Primus that help comes soon, because I'm only going to last a few joors if I'm lucky.

Turns out, I am lucky. I last a few joors, and then a few more. But my luck is running out, and unless help miraculously appears in the next few kliks, I'm as good as scrap. I blink a few times, trying desperately to keep my optics online. That's when I hear the voices.

They are getting closer, and I can begin to make out what they are saying.

"...can't believe I got stuck on salvage detail with you and Ratchet. Of all the lousy gigs. What was Ironhide thinking? Skidds just reported that they found survivors at the other site. Six confirmed Autobots! They'll have an ID soon. And I'm stuck here. I mean, what if my brother is at the other crash site?"

I hear what sounds like the 'radio' that I discovered as I researched the natives of this planet. A short song clip plays as if in response to the voice. "...everything... is gonna be all right!" I am extremely confused.

"You're right 'Bee." The voice replied. It was distinctly mech, and now coming from right outside my shuttle. "All right, lets get this open. This is the last bit of wreckage, and then we can get back to base."

I hear the buzz of a laser, and a grunt as someone pries the shuttle doors open. Light pours in, and I am blinded for a moment. As my optics refocus, I can make out the shape of the mech in the doorway.

He does a quick once over of the shuttles interior, but I'm propped up in the corner, and he doesn't see me. He speaks again. "Nothin' in here 'Bee, just an empty escape shuttle. Lets go."

I am low on energon, but I manage to croak out a few words. "Help." I say. "In here."

The mech, who had begun to move away, whips around, and crawls into the shuttle. "Scrap." He says as he sees me. He glances over his shoulder at a black and yellow mech who's just outside the doorway. "We've got another survivor, 'Bee! Get Ratchet now!"

The other mech nods, and dashes off. The first one moves forward, and kneels by my side. He's sleek, and silver armoured, and he looks extremely familiar.

"Slag." He says quietly. "You're pretty messed up."

I cough out a laugh at his obvious statement, and his faceplates turn up in a grim smile.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asks.

I open my mouth to try speaking, but he seems to realize that maybe this is a bad Idea. Because he tries to stop me. I can't help it though. Something about this mech is just bugging me.

"Sunstreaker." I groan.

The silver mech freezes. "What?"

"Sunstreaker." I pant out. "What...happened to your...armour? It's all... silver. And weird."

The mech laughs a little. "My name isn't Sunstreaker." He says sadly. "It's Sideswipe. Sunstreaker is my twin." He pauses. "Do you know Sunny?" He asks. "Was he on this ship with you?" He grabs my shoulders gently, and stares into my optics with a frightening intensity.

"Know him," I croak out. "we make... all sorts of trouble...together. He's... my best friend."

Sideswipes faceplates turn upward. A genuine smile this time. I can hear his spark begin to hum faintly in happiness. His positive energy is so intense, it momentarily relieves me of pain, and I find myself smiling back at him.

"Sideswipe!" The moment is ended by another more gravelly voice intruding upon my audio receptors. "Move, I need to start working."

Sideswipe moves aside, and another mech kneels down before me. He's a sort of neon yellow color, with red accents. "Big frame for a femme." He mutters to himself, and I can't quite muster the energy to be offended by his comment. "What's her name?" He asks Sideswipe, as he begins to weld a wound in my chassis.

"Don't know." Sideswipe shrugs. He bounces nervously on his pedes. "You think she's gonna make it 'hatchet?"

The medic barely glances at the mech. "Too early to tell. And besides, what's it to you?"

"She's a friend of Sunnys'. Says he was on this ship when it crashed. If she's Sunnys' friend, then she's important to me too."

Ratchet rolls his optics, and sighs. But he continues with his expert ministrations. He works quickly and silently. Only speaking when he requires the assistance of Sideswipe. Kliks pass, or possibly joors. I can no longer tell the difference. My spark pulse has slowed to a lethargic throb, and I am vaguely aware of the yellow and black mech from before hovering outside the shuttle.

"Sideswipe," Ratchet interrupts my thoughts. "Help me move her, she's injured on her back."

"Roger that, doc." As they begin to roll me, Ratchet holds out a servo.

"Wait." He says. "Look." He points to my shoulder, where the faint shape of my Decepticon insignia had been before I had asked Alpha Trion to grind it off.

"Scrap." I hear Sideswipe swear.

They roll me back on my aft, and the medic looks directly into my optics.

"Tell me the truth femme," He says. "because I'm only going to ask once... Are you a Decepticon?"

I focus my optics on him as best I can, and muster the last of my energy.

"No." I say.

He stares at me for a good long while, and finally speaks;

"Alright." That's all he says, and then he is back to working on my wounds.

As time progresses, I am finding it harder and harder to stay online, and finally Ratchets gravelly voice hit my audio receptors. He sounds far away.

"It's all right femme. Rest. The only thing you need now is a good long recharge..."

I silently thank him, and let my processors go offline.

When I reboot, I am no longer in the dark ruined interior of my shuttle, but lying on a berth in a spacious, well-lit hangar. As I try to sit up, I feel something stop me. I look down to see several restraints around my chassis, pedes and servos.

"Sorry about the restraints, femme." I turn to train my optics on the form of Ratchet, who is calmly scanning a datapad. He looks up at me. "Optimus wants to be sure that you're really on our side. He's conferring with the other members of your crew right now. Then he'll be in to hear your side of things."

I blink a few times. "Optimus?" I ask. "The Optimus Prime? We found him then? Alpha Trion was right!"

Ratchet gives me an odd look. "Well as far as I know, there's only one mech in existence named Optimus," He says with a smirk. "so yes, the Optimus Prime."

I turn my faceplates up in a smile, something Alpha Trion used to tell me I should do more.

Ratchet moves toward me, and begins sorting equipment on a medical table nearby. Some of the tools have old energon on them. My guess is it's my energon.

Ratchet catches me looking, and pushes the table aside. "You've been in medical stasis for approximately an orn. That's about fourteen days earth time." He says. "You were quite difficult to repair, your frame is improperly built, and I had to improvise a bit."

"Ah." I say. "There's a reason for that."

Ratchet opens his mouth to ask but before he can, I change the subject.

"How's Sunny?" I blurt. "He and Sideswipe are finally reunited. I bet they've been doing a scrap ton of catching up, yeah?"

Ratchet nods. "Sunstreaker is well. He's actually been in here quite a bit despite the fact he hasn't seen Sideswipe for vorns. But his twin seems to have adopted an attachment to you as well. Both of them visit you almost daily. You've got a loyal friend in Sunstreaker."

"He's the closest thing I've got to a family." I say simply. "He's my brother."

Ratchet smiles for the first time. "Well, it looks like you've got two brothers now. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are a package deal."

I smile, and think to myself that I like Ratchet very much.

"So, femme." He says as he picks up another datapad and begins to read. "Do you have a name? Or am I just going to call you femme all the time?"

I snort in mock annoyance. "My name is Silverbolt."

He frowns and sets the datapad down slowly. He turns to look at me. "What, were your creators names?"

I'm a little unprepared for this question. I haven't thought about my creators in vorns. But I hold his gaze, put on my brave face, and answer his question. "Their names were Racerunner and Skydive." I manage to say, before I have to look away. Somehow, after all these cycles, it's still hard to say their names.

"Ah." Ratchet says, and looks away too. "And were they both killed during the war?"

"Yeah." I say. "Did you know them?" I ask.

"Yes." He says. "I knew them."

I am about to ask more, but our conversation ends abruptly as the hangar doors slide open and several bots walk in.

I recognize Prowl and Red-Alert immediately. And I have to say they are looking snazzy in their fancy new armour. Prowls black and white police-car paintjob looks fabulous, and the usually grumpy and tense Red-Alert seems pleased about something for once.

They are followed by a small silver mech, who is shorter even than Sunstreaker. And a big black mech who is nearly twice my height. He cuts an imposing figure, with two large cannons strapped to his forearms.

Next come Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, and It's easy to see how I could have mistaken Sideswipe for his twin. Especially now that Sunny has gotten his armor reformatted in the fashion that all the other earth Autobtots seem to have. The twins are completely identical, except for their paint jobs. Gold-yellow for Sunny, and silver for Sideswipe.

As they approach my berth, Sunstreaker grins at me, and Sideswipe mock-salutes. "Nice to see you up and at 'em Silver." Sunstreaker says cheerfully.

"Indeed." Inputs Prowl. "Ratchet, you have permission to release Silverbolt from her bonds. Even if she were a 'Con, she would be no threat."

"Jeez, thanks Prowl." I say.

Prowl nods. "You are welcome Silverbolt." He seems almost serious, but I notice the tiniest twitch of his faceplates, and I can't help but grin.

As I stand, I roll my shoulder joints, and flex my servos and pedes. Everything seems to be working perfectly.

"So, uh. When is Optimus Prime going to be here?" I ask.

The big black mech looks at me and laughs out loud. "He'll be along soon enough, femme. But first thing, you either call him Optimus, or you call him Prime. Both is a little much." He speaks in a cultured British accent that makes him seem slightly less opposing. But I know better than to laugh. He strides forward, and holds a servo out to me. "Name's Ironhide, I'm Primes' third lieutenant."

"I'm called Silverbolt." I say as I grab his servo and shake it in the appropriate fashion. Though I am confused by his use of human gestures. It suggests that they have had personal contact with the natives. I call him out on it. "You're using a human greeting. I thought we were to remain hidden from other species we encountered. Has something changed?"

The small silver mech spoke up. "Circumstances forced us to reveal ourselves ta' the humans. We now work in close proximity with a special division of their government."

"I see. So we've allied with them. How long has it been this way?" I ask.

"We've known Sam for what, thirteen earth years. Right 'Hide?"

Irnonhide nods. " 'Bout as long as we've been on planet. Though it took some time to work out the kinks." He chuckles.

I sense there is a story here, and I want to ask who Sam is. But before I can do so, the small silver mech turns to me. He wears a blue visor, similar to my amber one, though mine remains retracted when I'm not in battle. His helm is also unique, although I don't think anyone could mistake him... He's the shortest mech I have ever met. Though I can't tell whether or not he is a minibot.

He addresses me in a jovial manner. "I'm Jazz, Optimus' second lieutenant." He follows up with a smart salute.

I nod. "It's nice to meet you Jazz." I look around at all the faceplates in the room. Three faces who are familiar friends. Though Red-Alert would never admit it. And four who are not. And yet all of them are acting like its no big deal to have a former Decepticon among them. "Why are you all being so kind?" I ask. "I could be a spy. Or an assassin, sent to kill the Prime or something. The fact remains, I used to be a Decepticon. So why are we shaking servos and exchanging names?"

Jazz bounces up and down on his pedes. "Well honey, for a former Decepticon, you've sure convinced mah prowler that you've changed sides. And he has the most highly advanced logic processors a bot can find." He finishes his spiel, and it seems that's that. Everybot nods, and it's done. No more questions.

I nod. That's something I can live with. "So Jazz. Uh, your Prowler? Are you and Prowl... mates?" I ask. I glare accusingly at Prowl, who has never mentioned this. Jazz also raises his optic ridges in Prowls direction.

Prowl rubs the back of his helm in embarrassment, and it's kinda funny to see the reaction another mech can have on the typically unemotional and logically minded first Lieutenant. "Bonded. Actually." Is all he says.

"Bonded?!" I yelp. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He looks around the group. "Well, everybot else knew. And I never spoke of it, because the... emotions that occurred as a result of being separated from him, were... difficult to process." He looks at Jazz, and suddenly I can almost see their bond. I understand now.

Prowl, who is primarily made up of logic, and reason, and fact, saves his emotion for one bot; Jazz. Jazz is his center. Jazz is his release. Prowls processors are not built to handle emotion, so Jazz takes it all.

"You guys were sparkmates, weren't you?" I ask.

Jazz and Prowl break their gazes, and Jazz looks at me. "Sure were." He says. "Though Prowler couldn't stand me at first." He laughs, and the group joins in. Even Sideswipe and Sunstreaker get the joke.

I look away. I can't help but feel like I don't belong. Alpha Trion had said it would be hard. But he had also told me that If I kept at it, and didn't give up, that there would be great joy in my future. So I'm holding out for that. Even when it feels like I don't belong.

Sunstreaker meets my gaze from across the room, and grins at me. "Hey Silverbolt!" He says, all smiles and laughter. "Tell everyone about the time you and I rearranged all the datapads in Alpha Trions office!" He's trying to include me, and I'm grateful, but not really in the mood at this point.

"Maybe later Sunny." I say quietly. I suddenly feel very tired. Then, to myself I mutter; "I hope Optimus gives me a chance."

Ironhide hears me, and claps me on the shoulder with a massive servo. "He will femme. Just Wait."

I smile up at him. "Ironhide, didn't your creators ever tell you not to trust a bot you just met?"

Ironhide laughs, and Red-Alert pipes up for the first time. "Well they all may trust yeh. And tha's fine, if they wants an early trip ta' the pit. But the Prime ain't gonna be so easy ta' convince. And as for meself, I still don't trust yeh!"

"Riiiight." I say sarcastically. "I just think that you like to be a grumpy old busybody, Red."

Red-Alert 'harrumphs' at me, and looks to Ratchet. "Where the slag is Prime at?"

Everybot turns to Ratchet expectantly, and he looks about in indignation. "Why do you all expect me to know?" He asks.

"It's 'cause you're besties 'Hatchet!" Sideswipe quips.

Ironhide looks at the silver twin in confusion. "What is besties?"

Sunstreaker answers. "It means best friends. Ratchet and Optimus are besties! Besides, Ratchet always know what Op' is up to."

Once again, everybot looks expectantly at Ratchet. He rolls his optics, but puts a servo to the side of his helm as he activates his comlink. After a moment of silence, he answers Red-Alerts' question. "Skids and Mudflap got in a fight, and Ultra Magnus tried to break it up apparently. And they don't listen to him, so you all can guess how that went. But Optimus is on his way now. He should be here any minute."

My spark quivers in excitement. Optimus Prime is the closest thing to a Cybertronian celebrity. He's a legend, and I finally get to meet him! I hear the hangar door open, and everybot turns their helms in that direction.

My spark begins to buzz, and I feel strange. As the mech comes into view, my spark pulse begins to sing. I observe him as if from outside my frame. He is tall. Taller than most mechs, and his two toned blue and red paintjob with the flame motif is somehow suiting, even though it's something that a much younger bot might sport. My gaze travels up his frame to meet his own piercing blue optics, and suddenly reality snaps back around me.

I don't know how long we have been standing, staring at each other. But Ratchet is asking Optimus what is wrong, and Sunstreaker is asking me something similar. I'm vaguely aware that my sparkpulse has become erratic enough, that my cooling systems have to kick in. I can hear the Primes own cooling systems from the distance between us.

Our gazes are locked, and my spark feels ready to go flying out of my chassis and toward the mech before me. I wonder if he has the same sensation. I take an involuntary step forward, and suddenly Optimus goes rigid. The energy that had buzzed between us is suddenly gone, as if he has cut it off.

His body language unfortunately puts everyone on high alert, as suddenly, Ironhides cannons are primed and trained on me.

And then Sunstreaker is standing in front of me, and Sideswipe is yelling at him, while he yells at Ironhide. And Jazz is trying to control the situation as it falls apart, because Optimus doesn't even seem to have control of himself. And for that matter, neither do I.

And all the while, Red-Alert is Yelling about the "no good 'Cons". And Ratchet is fussing over his 'bestie', who still seems unable to move.

And then Prowl. Silent, Level-headed, Logical Prowl raises his voice above then din, and takes control of the situation like the first lieutenant he is.

"Everybot SHUT-UP! Or I'll send you all to the pit!" He turns to Optimus. "Prime, get ahold of yourself. What are your orders?"

Optimus slowly relaxes, and turns to Prowl. Then he faces each of his soldiers in turn. Though he distinctly avoids looking at me. Finally, he speaks. His voice is like Praxian brew, it's deep, dark, and it rolls through my audios like thunder. And slag it if that voice doesn't almost have me in a trance again.

"Ironhide, stand down. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, report to Bumblebee for training. Red-Alert, please escort them out." The twins salute smartly, and trot out of the hangar along with the paranoid security officer.

Optimus turns to Ratchet. "Give her the all clear, and then Prowl and Ironhide can take her by to see Wheeljack for equipment and an alt-mode. Jazz, find a hangar for the femme, and give her a tour of the base. Then get her settled in for the night. The four of you are to report to me at dusk."

He turns, and exits the hangar. Without speaking to me once. Without even bothering to question me, or hear my story. We have some sort of weird connection, and suddenly he acts like a complete aft, throws a fit, and storms out. But he still gives me the run of the place.

Everyone is thinking the same thing as I am, though Ironhide is the one who dares ask; "What just happened?" He says almost timidly.

Jazz looks to Ironhide, and then to me. "Well it's kinda obvious. Ain't it?" He asks. Prowl nods in agreement.

When nobot answers, he sighs. "Optimus just behaved the same way mah Prowler did when we first met, and the same way Ratchet did, when he met Wheeljack." He looked around again. I still didn't get it.

"Primus bless, you fools really don't get it, do ya?" He says in exasperation.

Ironhide recoils as if he's been hit. "You mean-?"

It suddenly dawns on Ratchet too. "Holy pit." He swears. "They're sparkmates."

Sparkmates.

The word echoes in my head. Taunting me. Sparkmates. Sparkmates. Sparkmates. Is this what Alpha Trion meant when he said there would be great joy in my future? Because I have just been rejected by the most important mech in Autobot history.

It's too much for my processors to handle. My cooling system goes into overdrive.

"Sweet Primus." I say. Then my processors overload, and I crash.

The song clip that Bumblebee plays at Sideswipe is from Bob Marleys; Every Little Thing Gonna Be All Right.