Writer's Note - Complete AU. Does not feature in any of the current Transformers Continuities. Slightly 'Cyberverse'-ish in that the characters of the story will take the form of my own character designs (which you are unable to see until I start an Instagram art page).
Due to the light-hearted nature of the story, some of the characters will be slightly OOC but only for comedic purposes. Don't worry, Optimus Prime is still Peter Cullen's John Wayne and Megatron is still Frank Welker's... well, Megatron.


PROLOGUE BIT

"Oh goodie!" A pale blue Nurse clapped her hands. "Looks like we've got ourselves a nice little batch of sparks here."

Her colleague, a mint green Nurse, studied the cold-sparks with a critical optic.

"Eh," he shrugged, "Small and twinkly. Just like every other spark that falls our way."

"They're like little stars."

"Sure. Sure. Stars."

With all the care that a Well-Nurse working in the Well Nurseries was built for, he brought over three ready and waiting protoforms. The sparks, which had been sparked by Primus a while back and kept frozen (hence the term Cold-Spark), were to be Seeker sparks and so the protoforms that they were now being fitted into would eventually grow wings. No other spark other than Seeker sparks triggered wing growth.

"Grow well," the first Well-Nurse said, carefully taking the three sparked protoforms - Sparklings-to-be - back over toward the pit in the very centre of the huge Well Nursery where all protoforms were granted sparks.

Or, in the case of the Seekers, where sparks already granted life by Primus via the AllSpark or by the Matrix were given protoforms.

The pit in the middle was still connected to the AllSpark, hidden deep within the core of Cybertron where Primus dwelt.

"Right, how many Seekerlings is that?"

"Uh... One, two, three... Another three... Three... Why do these things come in bloomin' threes?"

"Seeker tradition. I looked it up."

"What, is 3 some sacred number or something for them?"

"Actually yes."

"...Oh."

All in all, there were about 20 new Seeker Sparklings lying on the table, nestled in their Cyber-matter pods, beginning to grow above the Pit leading to the AllSpark.

"We keepin' 'em or are they goin' back t' Vos?" asked another Well-Nurse, a grey and yellow one.

"Back to Vos," replied the pale blue Well-Nurse, "Tradition. All Seeker Sparklings hatch at Vos - highest place on Cybertron."

"Highest place to fall too," grumbled the mint green Well-Nurse, "Little kiddie rolls over during recharge... wheeee splat!"

"Don't be morbid. That doesn't happen."

"Hey, there's a first time for everything."

"EVACUATE!" a soldier suddenly appeared in the Nursery, optics wide with panic, "We're being attacked by Quintessons! They're coming for the Nurseries!"

The Well-Nurses looked at one another.

"Like I said," the mint-green one coughed with a smile, "First time for everything."


When you took a step back, it was hard to see which of the two factions were the more dominant.

Was it the mighty Decepticons, all kept together within Megatron's immense fortress community where the Nemesis took pride of place on top of the tallest tower?

Or was it the heroic Autobots who had divided their might into many many camps scattered around the globe where they could keep an eye on things better than their enemy could?

The same number of warriors all in one place? Or spread out?

There were probably advantages and disadvantages for both, one supposed.

Megatron needed no effort in summoning his army if they were attacked (deciding word being 'if' seeing as no-one on the planet was stupid enough to throw rocks at the Decepticon fortress while the Decepticons were actually home!).

On the other hand, the Autobots were all in frequent contact with one another and had their warriors placed everywhere so a Decepticon couldn't exactly throw a spanner on the planet without hitting one. Nor could they clear their extractor fans without an Autobot relaying the information back to their leader.

Optimus had kept the separate Autobot teams very small and it was strange to have the Ark, which was able to house all the Autobots, now housing only five - Optimus' little family of bots:

Ratchet, the grumpy 'Grandad', Bumblebee, the energetic 'Son', and Jazz and Ironhide, the fun 'Uncles'.


Ironhide tapped his finger and turned a page in his book as Ratchet stormed by for the third time back the way he came, listening to the irate medic shouting down the corridors.

"You better get your sorry yellow backside out here RIGHT now! You hear me? Where in the Pits...? I'm not fooling around here, Bumblebee! Primus, I'm not even old enough to say I'm too old for this."

Stomp stomp, went Ratchet's feet as he passed by again.

Ironhide sighed and just could not focus on the words so he admitted defeat and set the book back down on the table in front of him, watching his doctor march unproductive lengths of the two corridors and the Lounge Room where Ironhide was currently sat.

"Need a hand, Ratchet?" he offered, just so the medic could stop grooving a trench in the floor of the Ark.

"Spare me the pity, Ironhide," Ratchet grumbled as he walked back the fifth time, "I can handle one youngster on my own, thank you. We're just cursed to have been saddled with him while he happens to be still growing."

Ironhide was about to protest that he hadn't been questioning Ratchet's child-wrangling abilities but Jazz, the Autobot First Lieutenant, had appeared on the scene and had overheard the conversation.

"Who else was gonna take him in?" he asked, "Nurseries are all empty back on Cybertron, man. Without the AllSpark and all the fighting upsetting Primus, He ain't granting no more sparks."

"No-one asked for a lesson on recent history," Ironhide chuckled as Jazz was moved aside to make way for a still searching Ratchet.

"Jus' saying that OP weren't the bot to sit on his exhaust and let someone else take care of the last sparklings. Guess the big guy felt bad."

"If he feels so bad, he can help me look for the blasted kid," Ratchet huffed, "He's taken something from the Medi Bay again. Prime!"

From down the first corridor came an answering voice.

"That you calling, Ratchet?" the voice of Optimus Prime asked.

"Calling? No, just had the urge to yell your name out. Yes, I was calling. Have you seen Bumblebee?"

Optimus appeared in the doorway, blue eyes blinking at Ratchet innocently.

"Recently?" he asked.

"Well, ideally, yes."

"Sorry, Ratchet, I can't say that I have. I saw him this morning and that was it."

"Well he's taken the organic seed samples from Medi Bay. I want them back."

"Uh-huh, okay." Then when Optimus realised that Ratchet was giving him an expectant look, "Oh, you want me to find Bumblebee and get them back for you?"

"You're the one who felt bad and took him in," Ratchet scolded, disappearing down the corridor for good this time, "He's your scout, your responsibility. I'm getting a drink."

Optimus rubbed the back of his helm and turned to his two friends helplessly.

"Organic seed samples?" Jazz repeated tilting his head inquisitively, "Why does Ratchet have those?"

"Something to do with Earth Flora Research or something," Ironhide replied, waving his hand. "Point is, why do you need them, kid?"

He looked down at his side where Bumblebee had been sitting quietly next to him the entire time, slurping energon from his energon sippy cup. The little yellow Autobot avoided eye contact and shrugged.

"Wanted to try growing plants, is all," he said, fiddling with his digits, "They looked cool."

"Well, Prime. There's your bot," Ironhide sighed, picking up his book, "Your responsibility, Doctor said."

Optimus gave a long sigh.

His responsibility? He guessed that was true.

After all, he was the one who had gone down to the nurseries to see just how few protoforms had been sparked.

And, he had been the one to take an interest in the tiny yellow one and... yes, he might have asked to hold the newborn sparkling and, consequently, may have been the one to fall hook, line and sinker.

So, yes, Optimus was the fearless Autobot leader who had timidly asked the caretakers if he could have the youngster as his own.

Optimus Prime had been the one to toddle back to his army of brave, battle-hardened Autobot soldiers and guiltily present them with the newest addition to the family with the single line, 'Well, we did need a Scout...'

Trying to look as authoritive as possible, Optimus put his fists on his hips and raised a stern eye at his charge.

"Bumblebee, can you please return the seeds to Ratchet? He needs them and you know you shouldn't have taken them without permission." Bumblebee licked a few drops of energon from his digits and let his doorwings droop.

"Didn't know he needed them," he murmured, "Can I keep, like, a few?" He shot Optimus the innocent 'big round optics' look which the leader of the Autobots found impossibly hard to resist.

"Better check with him first," he replied. Bumblebee hopped down off his seat and slumped his shoulders dramatically, hanging his head as he slowly walked off.

"Aw scrap..." he muttered to himself which, unfortunately, Optimus heard.

"Language!" he scolded as Bumblebee shuffled off after Ratchet and he turned to Jazz and Ironhide accusingly, "Right, which of you has he learnt that from?"

"Jazz," Ironhide replied without missing a beat, lifting his book a little higher.

"Lies," Jazz instantly retorted, "He overheard that little one from Ironhide."

"Well I better not hear him say anything worse than that," Optimus warned them before he turned and followed after Bumblebee to make sure the youngster wasn't trying to pull a fast one.

After he had gone, Ironhide gave Jazz an incredibly unimpressed look. "Yeah, sure, pin it on me, why don't you?"

"I might be the smoother talker, Ironhide, but I ain't got a spark to your library of words," Jazz smirked.

"So what? I'm good at insulting Decepticons."