The Vagabond Gospel.

Chapter Two: Don't Lose Composure Now.

"I wear my soul on my sleeve at night searching for substance; I lose control of my autonomic mind waiting for the impluse; And I saw the rage burning in your eyes, your thoughts intangible; Follow me down, we'll get paralyzed around the winding road…" Dance Gavin Dance, The Robot With Human Hair Pt. 4


Jolt carefully removed the shoulder piece of Lunardust's armor, noting that there were no internal dents to her protoform. He was glad because more than likely Ratchet would have him bang them out and because of the femme's small form he would have to be more patience than he did with any of the other mechs that he had worked on plenty of times before.

The dark orange pigment was scratched and discolored, but he could easily replicate it. Taking the small paint chipper from its hookup in the second drawer of his own little desk in the Med Bay, Jolt proceeds to shave off a small square inch of the paint and match it to any of the others that they have created there on the Base. After so many battles, and the very narcissistic Sunstreaker complained about the lack of matching paint, Ratchet and Jolt put their pre-War skills to work and created the little machine that Jolt now welds.

While the system scans and begins to add pigments to the specialized paint that Cybertronians must use, Jolt takes a small (for him, not the humans) rubber mallet and begins to smooth out the rough bumps and concaves in Lunardust's shoulder armor.

"Jolt!" Ratchet calls from his desk, shuffling through numerous data pads. He could not wait much longer for the official Autobot Base to be complete so that he could have Teletraan 1 easily located all the needed files he was searching for.

"Yes sir?" the blue bot replies, peaking his helm past the doorway entry from his own little room in the Med Bay, his hands still working to repair one of Lunardust's pieces of armor that had been heavily dented during her reentry. It was thin and far too malleable to be regular battle armor. (This worried him. It was almost impossible to survive in the war torn world that Cybertron had turned into without appropriate armor, and this was just soft alloy used for the poorest of mechs and femmes.)

"Where are my other fragging files?" he grumbles, searching through the pile of datapads on his desk once again, glancing over them looking for a specific keyword.

"I believe Prime may have some of them."

"Why would Prime have my files?" Ratchet says, looking to his assistant. The blue bot shrugs his shoulder struts, but leans back forward to what he had been doing prior to Ratchet calling for him. The medic grumbles more, slamming the datapad in his servos down on the large metal desk. It echoes through the room and down the hall, startling a few of the humans and causing a few bots to look up from their debriefing.

Ratchet moves not-so-swiftly down the long hall, continuing to grumble and question why his leader would have his medical files. He wasn't necessarily looking for a medical file in particular, but he knew one of them, generally speaking, answered a question that he had floating around his processor.

-Ratchet to Prime.-

Not a few astroseconds later, the large bot replies, slight surprise coming over the comm link from the frustration etched in the sound of Ratchet's voice.

-This is Prime.-

-What, in the godly name of Primus, are you doing with my slagging medical files!-

Optimus, currently sitting in his office reading over one of said files with a nice fulfilling mug of Energon, laughs half-heartedly and puts down the datapad he has in his servos.

-Ratchet, my old comrade, what could you possibly need my medical file for at this moment in time?-

Ratchet pauses in the middle of the hall, staring forward at the end but not seeing the soldiers who are confused from his sudden halt.

-You only have your file?-

-That is correct.-

Ratchet suddenly feels pain in his processors and now realizes that he's going to have to search the base high and low for the file he needs.

-I apologize, Prime. I had the impression that you had more.-

-No harm, no foul.-

-Ratchet out.-

"Pardon me, Ratchet, but I was wondering if you could… are you alright?"

The medic looks up, trying to search his memory for where his other files could possibly be (along with why Optimus would have his own medical file); Arcee walks up holding the elbow joint to her left arm, right above where one of her guns would subspace out.

"Yes, I'm fine. You were in need of my assistance?"

Arcee nods, motioning to her arm. "Right. This strut is stiff and it seems my gun is jammed. Do you mind helping me with it?"

"Of course not. Come, let's get to the Med Bay."

Ratchet waves his servo for her to follow. They stay to the right side of the hallway, as per the humans' requests, being sure to watch where they step as they cross over to the entrance of Ratchet's domain.

Jolt looks up from the shoulder piece, giving Arcee a wave in greeting before turning his attention to an especially large dent that he had not noticed at first on another piece of Lunardust's armor. Arcee returns the wave just before he looks away.

"You say a gun is jammed?" Ratchet asks, going to his desk to pick up one of his many multifunction tools. Arcee nods, the creak of her metal telling him how she answered. He goes over to her, holding her forearm in his servos and scanning over the metal first. He frowns before using his tool to pop off the dark pink armor. The armor is set to the side as he quickly wiggles the tool again, moving a loose band back onto the correct wheel bearing.

Ratchet steps back and motions for Arcee to try and release her gun. It effortlessly appears from her subspace, hot and ready to fire. The medic smiles fondly, happy with his work. She takes the armor back and reapplies it, hearing a satisfying pop as it clicks back into place.

"Thank you," Arcee says, smiling at the old mech.

"All in a day's work," Ratchet replies, waving off the thanks as if it were dust in the air. Arcee smiles at him, shaking her helm, but something catches her eye.

"Who's that?" She asks, taking a few strides toward the resting orange body on the one occupied berth.

"Lunardust," Ratchet replies, grabbing one of his datapads off his now-unorganized desk. He's going to have to find a clear pad or delete some junk files from one of the few he has available so to put her information into it. "She arrived on Earth almost a quartex ago. The boy found her and took her in until she was well enough to come searching from us. Or so the report Major Lennox filled out, says."

Ratchet motions toward said file as it shows up on the screen of his pad. Lunardust's ward, Terrance, Ratchet found his name to be, had been gone to close to five hours so far. Unless Will had kidnapped the poor boy and was holding him hostage (which was highly unlikely), Ratchet supposed that the officer chose to entertain the boy long enough until the femme woke up refreshed and recharged.

"Did you say Lunardust?" Arcee asks, this time speaking in their native language of Cybertronix, which mildly surprises Ratchet. He had grown accustom to speaking English, even when the humans were not around. Ratchet nods, but Arcee is too embraced by the figure of the resting fembot. "I haven't seen her since before the war…"

"You know her, Arcee?" Ratchet asks. Arcee does not reply, too lost in the faint, barely-there memories of being shipped off from Tyger Pax and taken to a safe home before she was old enough to fight for the Autobots in Iacon. They had been separated during the immense battle that took place right outside their home, and she lost hope in ever seeing her again once Tyger Pax fell to the Decepticons.

"She was my bunk mate at the orphanage."

The words are soft and faint, pain filled and sorrowful. The regret is deep.

Ratchet is suddenly up and rushing to the femme when a series of beeps go off. It had not been the estimated twelve human hours and she would have awoken on her own. He picks up the datapad attached to a wire connected to her main processor, and a serious of red flags have popped up around the digitalized version of her body. The main one Ratchet worries about his the flag connected to her Spark chamber.

"What the frag…" Ratchet says, confused of the strange sigils that are popping up instead of the usual Cybertronix that he would read. Arcee takes the datapad from Ratchet and looks over it. She recognized it as the usual Paxian that she had been originally taught.

"Ratchet, contact Prime, quickly. She's going into a static-lock."

Ratchet, even though he's confused with the term 'static-lock', contacts his superior as told.

-Prime, I need you in the Med Bay immediately.-

There's the distant rumble of an engine from the other side of the base.

-May I ask why?-

-Our new friend is, according to Arcee, going into a static-lock.-

The engine grows louder, and Prime does not reply.


"Sam Witwicky, pleased to meet you. My car is the yellow one that can't talk. He's got a kickass radio, though."

Terrance was thoroughly surprised by the slightly-nervous nature of the teen. He was seventeen, maybe eighteen, and obviously had not lost his virginity yet. The evident lack of self-confidence was enough to deduce that.

"Terrance Case. My car is the orange one that's with, um, Ratchet?"

Terrance glances over to Will, and he nods as he smiles fondly at the youngest of the three.

"Sweet," Sam says, nodding to confirm what he said. "Where are you from? You got an accent, kind of."

Terrance feels slightly awkward around the boy. "Florida. I grew up in Georgia, though, so that's probably what you hear."

"Oh, cool. My friend Miles is from Georgia. He lived in Atlanta before coming here right before high school started."

Terrance hums in acknowledgement, but he half listens to what the teenager rambles on about.

"How are you and Mikaela?" Will asks, beginning to walk toward the yellow car that has just pulled into the large, tall hanger.

"Off again," Sam says with a sigh, but it's suddenly uplifted by seeing the same yellow car that Will is walking towards.

Terrance feels his headache coming back from the mood swings this kid is having. Sam has the same hyperactivity as a ten year old who was given an energy drink and a bag of junk food full of Red 40. And the same level of verbal filter also.

"Bumblebee, my main bot!" Sam shouts excitedly just as the yellow car begins to transform. Terrance had only seen it a few times from Lunardust before coming to the base, but he was still fascinated at how it worked. He had been an animation student in Florida before the death of his mother and his brain worked in the way of trying to figure out how he would replicate it on a computer screen. It must take hours and plenty of patience just to do a fraction of the bot's body.

"Hit it there for me, homie," the bot replied, and Terrance could faintly place the movie quote. Sam bumped his fist into the large one before the hand was opened for Sam to step out. The teen climbed on and then crawled up his arm carefully before settling in the space between two pieces of shoulder armor beside Bumblebee's head.

The yellow bot waved to the two others who had previously been talking to his ward.

"Bee, this is Terrance. He came with another bot today. He's with Ratch right now."

"She's with Ratchet," Terrance corrects. Bumblebee, in return, jumps from stabilizing servos to stabilizing servos, clapping his large metal hands together. Suddenly, if Terrance thinks correctly, he hears the beginning chords of 'My Girl' begin to play from the bot.

"Right, sorry, she's with Ratch and- wait, you said she?"

Terrance nods.

"Ah man, Bee, we gotta tell the others! Come on, let's go. I bet Arcee and Elita will be excited to hear this."

Suddenly, the yellow bot and his charge are gone, disappeared down a hall to where Terrance can only guess it leads to.

"Would you like a quick tour of the Base?"

Terrance looks to Major Lennox, and he knows that the officer is just trying to keep him out of the Med Bay and out of Ratchet's metaphoric hair.

"We won't be here too much longer, but you should want to know where everything is, don't you think?" Will tries to persuade. Terrance agrees, and the two are off, keeping to the left side of the halls.

However, the large rumble of a truck shakes the walls, and after soldiers quickly move aside, a red and blue truck comes barreling around the corner of the hall, driving as if Unicron himself was at his pedes.

"The hell?" Terrance asks, looking to Will for an answer. The major frowns deeply and pulls out his walkie, using it to call one of his fellow soldiers.

"Hey, Epps, you there?"

There is a crackle from the other side.

"Is there another Decepitcon attack?"

"Nah, man. I haven't been told anything."

"Thanks, Lennox out."

Terrance stands guarded, waiting for an answer, and then the two make an immanent observation.

"That's the direction of the Med Bay," Will says, and he cannot stop Terrance from talking off into a run. Nothing could stop him from getting to the femme that lay dormant in the Med Bay. "Terrance, wait!" Will yells after him, but the boy ignores him completely. Cursing to himself, Will takes off after him, following the path that Optimus had just taken. The human sized door into the Med Bay slams open as Terrance rushes in. He yells for Lunardust, frustrated and outraged – both at himself and these robots – thinking that he could possibly trust them.

"Don't touch her! Get away from her!" He yells, quickly running up the stairs that lead to the berth that Lunardust lays on.

"Move, boy!" Ratchet shouts back, grabbing at the back of his shirt to keep him away from Optimus and Arcee as they work together to bring Lunardust back online. "Let them be, they're trying to save her."

"You're the reason she's like this!" Terrance yells, his voice cracking half-way through as he beats at the metallic hand with his balled fists. Small specks of blood show up on the dull silver metal from Terrance's broken skin.

"Boy, don't test me," Ratchet says, trying to keep an optic on the boy and his two fellow bots. "Optimus, what is going on?"

Will stands behind where Ratchet is holding Terrance, looking over the two as he watches the scene unfold before them all.

"Optimus, now!" Arcee yells, holding Lunardust down by her shoulders before the Autobot leader opens the orange femme's spark chamber and forcing his servos deep into the bright blue Spark.


"You are doing very well, my star."

Lunardust looks up from the files she was stacking onto the shelf, and smiles fondly at the mech watching her.

"Thank you, sir."

"Keep up the good work," he tells her, patting the top of her helm with his large servos before going on to the next femme a few shelves down.

"What did he say, Luna?"

Lunardust looks through the opening in the shelf and grins at her close friend.

"He said I'm doing a good job, Railchaser. Maybe I'll be chosen soon to go to the capital?"

Railchaser grins back. The siren for the end of the day goes off astroseconds later, signaling for the femmes that they are done with work for the day. Their small bodies move around shelves and they quickly move out of the file room, following after the other small younglings. They are the smallest, the youngest, but not much could stop the pair when together.

Found together barely a meta-cycle ago, they were cold and hungry and lost. Their creators were lost to a strange plague of rust that had taken over the part that connected the lesser sides of Tyger Pax and Nova Cronum.

"Come on, Luna, let's go get some Energon and go find that tunnel again," Railchaser says, quietly saying the end of her sentence into Lunardust's audio sensors. Lunardust leans away from her friend but nods in agreement.

All of the younglings file in a straight line, following behind one of the fembots that watch over them.

"What are you two planning?"

The duo jumps around to look at the tall mint green femme, looking sheepishly at each other for a klik.

"Nothing, Cross Star."

The femme folds her arms over her chassis and the two know they've been caught.

"Well, if that be so, I must advise you to be a bit quieter, Railchaser," Cross Star says before crouching to their short height. "I'd hate for someone to follow you to that tunnel of yours." Winking one of her bright green optics, Cross Star motions with her helm for them to go back to the group. The femmes giggle small whirls and give a kind click to the youngling supervisor before running to catch back up with the rest of the group.

After a fresh cup of Energon and the femmes are free to do as they please until the next lunar-cycle when they must return for another cup and another six groons of filing work. All of the younglings, when they arrived at the orphanage, were told that if their work was done well enough that Irongear would take them to the capital and put them under an apprenticeship with one of the mechs and femmes, maybe even the High Council Pavilions, where they would grow and leave their creator-less past behind to become a powerful and influential bot in society.

"Luna, come on!" Railchaser whispers harshly, waving her servo in front of the femme's optics. Lunardust looks to her comrade and nods, placing her empty cup in the dispenser that quickly shot it through a small tube to rush it to the kitchens for sterilization.

The fembots left the common room, sneaking past their youngling-watchers – who were quite too busy gossiping to notice – and moved down the long halls of the Archives to leave out the side door that would lead them directly back to the orphanage and their semi-explored tunnel.

Just before the steps of the orphanage was a small side alley that led to a set of rooftop stairs and then the back of the building. Down that side alley, just after the stairs, was a broken window that led to the locked basement of the orphanage, and in that locked basement was a door that had long rusted shut. However, because of the rest, the lock and handle had easily broken off and the femmes could drag the door open. They had to be quick and as cautious with it, only doing it during the day so that no one would be suspicious of the sound and think it to be construction from the outside world.

The femmes are easily past this part, as they've done it a half-dozen times. Each time they go farther and farther down the tunnel, their light gold optics shining enough light through the tunnel to see where the walls were.

Half way through the metallic flooring turns into a strange dry substance that takes them almost a groon to scrub off their stabilizing servos. They step carefully, being sure to miss the pools of oil that they found the second and third times they were exploring. During their last adventure, the light of a door way could be seen just five hics away, but they had to rush back before any of the youngling-watchers grew suspicious of why they were late for curfew.

"We're almost there, RC," Luna whispers, leading the two through the tunnel as she had the best memory of where the puddles of oil and tar were located.

They pass their last marker, showing where they stopped, before pushing forward for the light coming through crack of the closed door. More sludge is stepped in, but Lunardust and Railchaser are too excited to care for it much.

The door is cold against Luanrdust's servos. She and Railchaser push on the door, and it opens easier than the one underneath the orphanage. The light is brighter than they expected and it takes a few kliks for their optics to readjust to correct vision.

"Primus," Railchaser says quietly, looking at the light blue steel walls, admiring the colorful lights that flicked slowly, and the buttons connected to a control panel. The wires ran up the wall, across the incredibly high ceiling, and then down to numerous machines located just below the catwalk that the femmes had come across. "Luna, you gotta look at this!"

Lunardust walks over to the railing and peaks over, amazed at the tall bots walking back and forth, some carrying tools and others holding datapads. One in particular, a deep purple with silver accents around his helm and chassis, is shouting out instructions. The femmes sit there, just watching as the bots, and a few femmes, hurry about the room like a hive of ant-droids.

Then, suddenly, all of the bots are rushing from the large circular room and behind a thick plate of reflective Energon glass.

The lights that had been softly flickering on the wall begin to flash different colors, and the energy in the room thickens so hard that the two femmes can barely move. They watch as the cylinder in the middle of the room begins to spin, faster and faster growing in power.

The beam of light is almost blinding.

Railchaser and Lunardust scream, reaching up to cover their optics with their servos as they crouch down, curling into their small youngling bodies. Railchaser loses her balance and falls, pushing Lunardust with her. The older femme goes tumbling through the bars of the railing, falling just a few hics from the moving cylinder.

"Luna!" Railchaser screams, uncovering her optics for a few astroseconds before she's forced to cover them again.

"Stop!" One of the mechs yells from behind the Energon glass and the cylinder slows, the beam of light fading. Two of the bots come running toward Lunardust, and Railchaser runs down the staircase that leads from the catwalk down to the main floor.

"Luna!" She yells again, dashing over to her comrade. "Luna, are you hurt? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to push you!"

"What the slag are you two doing in here?!" The large yellow bot yells, before he is pushed aside by the large purple bot. He towers over all of them.

"How did you get in here?" he asks, his voice deep and frightens Railchaser into a stillness.

Lunardust puts up to the catwalk and to the slightly ajar door that lead to the rusted one underneath the orphanage.

He frowns, his expression stern and unwavering.

"Come, we must return you to your youngling-watchers," he commands, grabbing them both by their midsection and hauling them effortlessly over his shoulder struts.

Lunardust and Railchaser look at each other from behind his helm, knowing they've lost any chance they thought they had at getting to the capital anytime soon.

The walk back to the orphanage takes longer than they thought, but when they arrive at the front steps, the duo wishes it was much, much longer. The mech knocks on the front golden door with his large servos, and it takes only astroseconds for a care-giver to answer.

"Yes, Shockwave, sir?"

"I believe these two are under your care," he rumbles, his entire upper half vibrating with the deepness of his vocals. Shockwave pulls the femmes from his shoulders and lets their pedes rest on the first step of the orphanage. Cross Star looks at the duo, and her facial plating feels warm with excess Energon overheating her systems.

"Yes, sir, they are. I will be sure to see to their punishment for disturbing your research, immediately."

"There is no necessity in that," he says, surprising all three femmes. "I'd like them to assist me in the research facilities. It appears the Archives are not sufficient of an adventure for them." Shockwave looks at the two younglings. "Rest well, you will be doing twofold the labor you habitually tend to. Oh, and, Cross Star, have this one see to a medic. She took quite a fall."


Meta-cycle: approximately 13 Cybertronian months.

Klik: approximately 1 Cybertronian minute.

Quartex: approximately 1 Earth month.

Groon: approximately 1 Cybertronian hour.

Hic: approximately 1 Earth kilometer.

Oh my, my, myy... What could I possibly have planned?