DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, 'cept the younglings from the ship (check the earlier chaps if you, for some odd reason, don't have a clue what I'm talking about).

How to read the lines: :bond talk:, 'comm-link talk', "normal talk", thoughts


Kaceystar

"Wait! No, don't go there, WAIT!"

I never knew that a mech so small could be so fast!

Even though I'd had plenty of experience of overly hyper, ridiculously curious and fast little mechlings when Leo was growing up, Fast Forward was proving to be a tough case. He kept zipping in between other mech's legs, throwing half-hearted apologies as he went, and I did my best to keep up with him. I wasn't, to my astonishment, doing all that great either.

Had we been in open space, I wouldn't have had any trouble keeping up with him: he made way too many twists and turns to really get his speed built up. Besides, it wasn't like I couldn't out-run a four-foot little twerp like him, he was barely a quarter of my height, for frag's sake!

Alas, we weren't in a large, open-air space, and instead of me having enough room to maneuver in, I had to constantly dodge flailing limbs and mechs that were an inch from toppling over. I was not a small femme anymore, and so I had more trouble than I cared to admit to copy his route. Not only that, but the mech was small enough to, every once in a while, slip past me and disappear. It was fairly easy following him, though. I just had to follow the nearly crazed chatter he kept up, and the line of cussing mechs trying not to stomp on him and permanently make him stop his manic chase for Primus-knows-what through the hangar.

Speak of the fragger!

Zipp! he went through another big mech's legs, causing him to lose his balance. He teetered on the verge of falling as I hit my breaks, not wanting to actually make him, too, fall down. No such luck. About an astrosecond later I slammed into him, thus toppling him over with a curse flying from both of us.

"Sorry!" I winced in sympathy for the mech. I really couldn't help feeling but sorry for the mech, since his day wasn't really what one would call peachy, what with first having to go on an emergency landing site, then taking care of a big group of younglings, then having one of said younglings run between his legs and after that having a femme slammed to his mid-back. Before having intimate contact with terra firma. I had to give him credit when he didn't blow up in my face.

"It's okay, just tell Leo to be more careful," he shrugged it off, already gathering himself up.

"Oh, I wish it was just Leo," I muttered and dashed after him again.

I really did! If it was my brother, I'd only have to tell him to stop via our spark link. As it was, I wasn't connected to the little slagger by the name of Fast Forward, thus rendering me unable to stop the slagger by only telling him to. Words obviously didn't sway him, as I'd already remarked earlier.

I stopped to look around a little. Slag, lost him again.

I had already looked for him for quite a while when I finally caught him talking to Perceptor. I didn't yet know the mech well, because I hadn't had the time to go to the lab for a long while now, but I knew he was an old friend of Ratchet's and Wheeljack's. Just more quiet than either one, but just as enthusiastic as Wheeljack when it came to science. I had also heard that the only reason Wheeljack had yet to blow us all up with one of his crazy inventions was because Perceptor was there to look them over, pointing the small flaws in calculation Wheeljack had neglected to look at, being too excited over his project.

I had no trouble imagining that.

Currently the two mechs, Perceptor and Fast Forward, were deeply engaged in conversation about something. Fast Forward looked a bit confused.

"But how does it work in action? You can't fulfill those requirements in the field," he said to Perceptor, obviously asking about something Perceptor had been kind enough to lecture him about. Probably something scientific, although I had a hard time imagining the spazztic little mech actually concentrate on something as delicate as the things Percy worked with.

"I'm sorry, is he bothering you?" I politely asked. Perceptor looked up from his nicely started lecture on Primus-only-knows-what and flashed me a smile.

"Ah, young Kaceystar. How wonderful to see that nothing bad happened with the mission today. I do admit, I was a bit worried about the signal Blaster intercepted, but it seems everything has gone quite well," he said. After a pause of approximately 1.8 seconds he started. "Oh, but I didn't answer your question, did? I am terribly sorry, Kaceystar. He isn't bothering me, quite the contrary, in fact. I have never met a mech so young and so interested in the more scientific aspects of engineering. I was just telling him of the project Wheeljack and I are working on at the moment."

He opened his mouth to explain it further, but I interrupted him, feeling my father search for me through the bond.

"I'll stop by the lab someday and go over it with you and 'Jack, but I really need to get this tyke to the other new-comers. My father has something planned for them," I explained to him and secured a tight grip on Fast Forward's arm. Perceptor's face flashed disappointment, but then he smiled.

"I'll hold you to that. From what I've heard from both Wheeljack and Ratchet, you are a truly remarkable femme in all aspects, and I regret not having had the opportunity to see it for myself. Good luck with everything today, Kaceystar. I have a feeling you may have a long day ahead of you yet," he cautioned and walked off towards the labs. I couldn't help but blush at the praise. I knew everyone thought I was special, but hearing that the Hatchet himself had said something like that… Wow.

"What does your father plan to do with us?"

I shook my head to clear it. "Huh?"

Fast Forward smirked.

"Your father, Optimus Prime? Remember, big mech with flames and--"

"Oh, that's funny. I almost laughed," I snarked back with a mock glare. He returned the gesture by sticking his tongue out.

"I'm serious, though. Do you know what will happen to us?" he asked after withdrawing his tongue to where it was supposed to be. I shrugged.

"I don't know. I only know that he called for me and told me to take you with me and then he said he'd meet us where Sockets is patching up the others," I said. If I thought that he'd spook because of the uncertainty of their very near future, I was wrong. He just beamed at me.

"Okay. One thing though," he trailed off with a glint in his optics. I immediately went to defensive mode. I'd seen that look in the optics of many of my comrades, usually Leo or Sideswipe, but also occasionally Sunny or Bee, too. He wanted something from me.

"What?" I asked, already regretting it. He gave me a face-splitting grin and held his arms up.

"Carry me!"

"Oh Primus," I sighed and lifted him up, starting to make my way to my father. Many mechs gave me curious looks as I passed them with a chattering sparkling in my arms, but I just gave them a look saying: Don't ask. For your own good.

Lucky us, we reached the make-shift med bay without any huge incidents (there was the one with Fast Forward nearly jumping out of my hold while screaming "ENERGON GOODIES!", severely startling the femme holding said things. He'd gotten a goodie, though. And he'd thanked very nicely.) with Fast Forward still munching away at the half-molten piece of sweet, and I was very happy for it. I noticed that Sockets was casually lounging on one of the many crates containing various sorts of gear for missions, so he must've been ready with everything. Fast Forward squirmed in my arms.

"Lemme down, please?" he pleaded with me and I complied, feeling my arms tire of holding him. He immediately sauntered over to a couple of other younglings, and I suddenly knew why he'd been so slow to eat his candy – he wanted to boast with it. Sure enough, a couple of bigger mechs tackled him and started to mercilessly tickle him for torturing them like that. I chuckled.

"They're really not all that different from us."

I turned my head to Sockets. He had a contemplating look on his face as he watched the quarrel with mild interest.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The 'Con younglings. I remember starting, joining or causing fights like that when I was their age," he explained. He then heaved a heavy sigh. "Makes me wonder about the war. If we all start alike, then what goes wrong along the way for some of us, I wonder?" he said before we fell into a comfortable silence.

I had to admit that he had a point. Now that I looked at the little mechs rolling on the ground, I could see a lot of the things I saw when I watched my younger siblings pick a fight with each other. We all came to this world the same way. We all had a mother and a father, and we all shared a deep family bond with them and our possible siblings. We all had a spark, we felt, thought and dreamed.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to have been brought up as a Decepticon. I couldn't, just as I couldn't imagine Leo, Orion, Ariel or any of my friends as such. Giving up on that approach, I tried another angle. What if my cousins were brought up as Autobots? What would Venom have become? The same, violence-loving image of a mech he was today, or something different? Maybe he'd have been like Orion, or Leo?

No, I told myself, he could never be like my brothers, no matter the up-bringing. My spark sank as I thought of my cousin. It didn't take a scientist of Perceptor's caliber to decipher his enormous hate for my family, but especially me. I didn't feel like he could ever have become a true Autobot, even if he'd grown up as one – he was his father's son, just as much as I was my father's daughter.

Then my thoughts turned to my second cousin. What about Viper? Could she have become an Autobot with the right up-bringing? I couldn't be certain. I'd only met her twice, after all, and both times were very brief and full of stress, for one or both of us. The first time I ever saw her was at the beginning of my second captivity in the 'Con cells, and I'd mostly been out of it, so I couldn't remember much. I was certain, though, that she'd mostly only been curious, rather than malicious, although I could have detected mistrust from her side, as well as something darker under the sparkling-like good will and curiosity. Something more… violent.

Then again, I had to admit to myself in the name of honesty, not all the Autobots are exactly saints either. Pit, even I'd given in to my lust for seeing my enemies dead at my feet once or twice, and I'd acted accordingly. But those few times had been exceptions, and I'd always felt bad about it later. I didn't know for sure if Viper was like that or not.

The second time I saw her was under, if possible, even worse circumstances. That had been at the end of my captivity, as I'd battled Starscream and Venom in the hangar to protect both myself and the Quintessons, and the whole building had basically collapsed on us. And then Viper had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and I had to rescue her as well from being crushed by hundreds of tons of burning steel and concrete. Not exactly a great opportunity to get to know each other. She'd been so scared, and had wailed loudly over probably all bonds she had. I'd taken her with me as I fled from the crumbling building, and had sent her my love to calm her down as a gift, not expecting her to respond to me – and she'd accepted it, and even returned some of it back.

As I remembered, I felt a strong surge of hope rise in my spark. Maybe, just maybe, this war wouldn't only end when one side was completely annihilated. Maybe there was a chance for us to re-think how we should go about on our business, the Decepticons and us, if we were all just brought up alike.

Then I realized what it would require, and that I could never pull a stunt like that. This great grand master plan of mine suggested that all the sparklings would be in one place, brought up all alike – and the Decepticons would never allow it. And we couldn't just go and steal their sparklings to teach them a more peaceful way of life, separate them from their creators and force them to bend to our will. It would make us the exact same as the 'Cons if we did that, no better.

I shuddered as I recalled, once again, the diversion assault launched on the old Autobot base, the great scheme of the Decepticons to strike to the heart of the Autobots: our sparklings. That was already some time ago, but it still burned my mind to remember the horrible aftermath of it all. Luckily, I'd been the only one taken, but a few others, my young brother Leo included, had suffered severe damage during the assault.

My attentions were, thankfully, re-directed by a shrill scream of laughter, and a cry of surprise mixed with annoyance or outrage. I quickly zoomed in on the group of refugee younglings and saw the problem.

I fought down my laughter for the gazillionth time today. Fast Forward was jumping up and down, trying to reach a young Seeker, who teasingly hovered in the air just above the ground-mech's reach, dangling a piece of what sometime might have been an energon goodie. I could not help but chuckle. Apparently the little, overly energetic bundle of pure hyperness had gotten too cocky with his outrageous boasting about how he'd gotten an energon goodie and the others hadn't, and someone had had enough.

The Seeker looked at Fast Forward with a positively evil smirk before ever so slowly putting the molten piece of sweetness into his mouth, making a noise suggesting that the sweet really tasted good and clearly enjoying it as well as looking at Fast Forward's reaction and hearing his protests from below him. After he was done eating, he gracefully landed next to the now sulking rain-cloud of a mech Fast Forward. He rounded so that he was positioned in front of the smaller mech and said something, extending his hand. An apology?

No, I thought as I looked at his face, which was screaming Nyahnyahnyah, gotcha! and then also noticing that the hand was covered with the remains of the goodie. The slagger was offering his hand for Fast Forward to lick, if he still wanted what remained of his precious loot! Talk about sweet revenge…

The dark look Fast Forward gave him should have been enough warning, but the Seeker was too preoccupied with laughing with the other older mechlings to notice, so he only realized something was wrong when his hand was suddenly snatched and brought up. Fast Forward had grabbed his wrist and proceeded to bite down on the offered middle finger – hard.

The Seeker released a cry of pain and surprise and yanked his hand back from the now triumphantly grinning mechling, who was now apparently satisfied again. The other younglings burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter, pointing at the two mechs, who now were both busy with their hands – one nursing the offended limb and the other one carefully licking the remains of the sweet from his stained fingertips.

The scene was so familiar to me from the countless times my friends and I had been in the same, or a similar, situation, that I had to forcefully remind myself that these were no Autobot younglings – at least they didn't think so – and that they were raised in hiding as refugees, who had, until now, remained hidden from both us and the 'Cons, I'd imagine. That was a feat I'd thought impossible, so I had to respect these younglings. But they were just so…

… so like us. Like Autobots. Like… me.

Then why, I asked myself, couldn't they be Autobots just as well? If they act so like us, couldn't we all live together, peacefully, as one?

I was suddenly reminded of the ancient motto of the Primes, one that my father said before every great battle: 'Til all are one.

I wondered if this was what it meant, that regardless of how or where we are brought up, we should be able to stand as one, as a people. It brought an uninvited, but nevertheless welcome, smile to my face. Sockets noticed, and gave a smile of his own.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked, still happy that everything had been taken care of, and that the younglings were, for the moment, content.

"I'm thinking about what you said, and the old motto of the Primes. ''Til all are one', it says. Could it mean that there will be, no, that there is a chance to end this insane war without annihilating over half of us?" I asked. Before he could answer, I continued. "I think there is. I mean, we must have been together once. I don't see a reason why these younglings, for example, couldn't grow up to be normal mechs and femmes, why they couldn't live with us Autobots. I fail to see a difference, other than the color of optics," I said with a smile. His own had fallen for a moment, but it now came back just as strong, but with a tint of tenderness in it.

"And that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "is why you are so fit to be our Prime, despite what you may or may not think of yourself and your capabilities. You know just how to inspire hope and trust in the future in us."

I blushed at the praise. First Wheeljack and Ratchet, then Sockets? Wow, I'd really done something good lately to gain all this good talk…

Before I could pursue the conversation any longer, or thank Sockets for his kind words that I didn't think I'd earned, I heard a slight cough from somewhere around the height of my breast plating. Looking down, I found myself staring into red optics. The optics, in fact, of the same Seeker that had teased Fast Forward only minutes before.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Hope, but -"

"Please," I said with a quiet laugh, "my designation is Kaceystar. I'm sure you know it, and it's perfectly allowed to call me that." I still felt a little awkward about this Hope-business…

The Seeker blushed and scuffled on his feet a little before daring to lock optics with me again.

"Kac-" he broke off and took a deep, shivering breath. Did he have to gather his courage just to talk to me? I didn't know if I should have laughed or cried. I refrained from doing both and waited for him to continue. He lifted his head and squared his shoulders.

"Kaceystar," he stated, staring straight at my face with a look so determined that I almost had to bite my tongue not to explode in laughter. The look was so foreign on a face so young! He honestly couldn't have been older than little Kayla, at least not by much! I attempted to look as professional as he did.

"Yes? Your designation?" I questioned, deciding to play the formal game the younglings, strangely enough, seemed to prefer. I guess he wasn't prepared for it, though. He did something strange with his faceplates that made Sockets clamp his hand in front of his mouth not to laugh. I schooled my face again, determined not to laugh at the poor kid.

"M-my designation? Unimportant, m'lady, unimportant…" he stuttered, suddenly developing a terrible interest for his feet, which were almost twitching, despite his clear efforts to prevent us from seeing his fidgeting.

Sockets couldn't handle "m'lady" and the scene that came with it and ran away to let his mirth out in a place where he wouldn't embarrass the Seeker youngster. I wished I could have joined him, or at least could withdraw behind my battle mask so I'd be able to at least relax my face as it wanted to be, since I felt like I'd literally split my sides if I didn't let my laughter out. Despite this, my face remained stoic, my battle mask hidden. I looked at him again.

"Oh, of course it matters. Come on, I want to know your name," I tried a more laid-back approach, hoping it would break him free of his formality. Besides, I noticed he was getting jumpy, and the last thing I needed was another scared Seeker. I felt another pang of pity, but it received the same treatment as the first one. These younglings didn't need my pity, they needed my help!

"-edge."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was in my own world. Can you please repeat that?" I requested. I was rewarded with a smile, although a shy one.

"I said, my name is Sharpegde," he clarified for me, now a little more calmed. Good, I'd made the right decision.

"Well, Sharpedge, what bothers you?" I inquired. He took another deep breath to calm himself.

"The thing is… My friends… I… We are…" he let out a quiet grunt before kicking himself mentally so hard that I had no trouble seeing it. Primus this little mech was not letting himself off easy, was he? "We're hungry, and I thought… I mean, WE thought that… Maybe… If we could, I dunno… We could…" he trailed off his stammering and looked at me helplessly. I had a hard time believing this mech: first, he reminded me of a seasoned warrior with how concentrated and strict he'd looked like when he began his request, and now he was acting his age – a lost sparkling far from his creators, in a place and with people he didn't know and had never seen before.

But I'd gotten the message.

"I'll go and order someone to get you food. Do you think the rest of the refugees would want some energon as well?" I asked, receiving a thankful nod. I smiled. "Wait here, then. I'll send someone to fetch you and your friends and guide you to where you'll be fed," I instructed before walking off. I only had to take a few steps for the still buzzing and fussing crowd to swallow him.

I fought my way through the masses to my father. He was easy enough to find, being so tall. Therefore I saw him before reaching him, but before I could ask him about the energon, I saw something that positively made my spark stutter for a minute. I stopped right in the middle of the crowd, not quite yet reaching my father, and stared.

The three Seeker femmes from before, Wingslide and her trine, if I recall the name right, were cuddling Jetfire like he was the only certain thing in the universe. I let my curiosity and surprise filter through our bond to my father, wordlessly inquiring this strange phenomenon and its origins, but I only got an amused surge of feelings back, and a single word.

:Later.:

I didn't question him, and he sent me his love. Even though he was wearing his mask, I had no trouble imagining the look on his faceplates – he was wearing that kind, satisfied smile of his that he always had when he was looking at Autobots having a good time, or relaxing, talking with each other. He was proud. Proud of the Seekers and his cousin, if I interpreted his feelings right, which I knew I did.

I replied his message through the bond with a promise of questioning him further later, and returned my love to him. When I finally reached him, I gave him a quick hug, just because I could and I felt like it. Also, I wanted his attention, and a hug was guaranteed to do the job right. I wasn't mistaken.

His optics left the spark-warming scene performed by the winged younglings and their safe haven and turned himself to face me. I could read the inquisitive expression from his face, even though there wasn't much of it to see.

"The refugee younglings are hungry. I don't know when they last ate," I explained myself before he could question me. His optics took a worried appearance, and I was quick to sooth him trough our bond as well as through words.

"It's okay, they said they'd wait for us to give food, and they didn't look like they'd keel over in the next five minutes," I said dryly. Primus knew how much I loved my father, but he could be a little bit of a mother hen at times. I love him for it all the more.

A smile graced what little could be seen from his face.

"Well, we'll make sure they don't starve even after that, now won't we? Prowl," he called to our second, who was hovering nearby, obviously waiting for instructions. The poor mech was a slave of his own habits… always there for my father, always loyal, liable, the epitome of sureness in everything he did. I thanked Primus for the millionth time that he had Jazz back.

"Yessir?" he asked, saluting my father as he always did. Yep, slave of his own habits alright.

"I need you to organize energon for the younglings as fast as possible. Get some kind of system to make it as easy as possible, too. I strongly believe that they all will be much more cooperative when they have full tanks, and I'm sure they'll at least be happier," my father said. Prowl snapped himself to a salute again.

"Consider it done, sir," he promised before walking off, already speaking to his comm. link. When he was outside our hearing range, I turned to my father again.

"Okay, will you now tell me what the deal is with the winglets and Jetfire?" I asked, and immediately felt like banging my head on the nearest wall. When, exactly, had Fast Forward's vocabulary stuck on me? That was everything but the dialect we spoke in the Autobots base! Winglets? Since when did I say winglets???

My father, too, noticed my odd choice of words, but decided not to pry on it. He did, however, raise his optic ridge at me.

"It seems that your new friend was right. The younglings took an immediate liking to Jetfire, one I cannot fully understand, I'm afraid, but we have nevertheless just decided that he'd be their guardian until further notice. And," he added with a deep chuckle that rumbled from somewhere from his massive chest, "it just may be that there will be no further notice. Jetfire is happy with the situation as well, believe it or not, or at least content, and I see no reason as to why we should change the anything." He turned his optics back on the spark-warming scene, and I followed his example, like so many times before.

They were no longer cuddling each other, but rather talking in hushed voices, hunched together. I couldn't help but wonder the radical change the green Seekeress: the last time I'd seen her, just before Fast Forward had made his grand escape, had been when she was alternately wailing, cursing, screaming and hissing at her trine and clawing the air before her, convinced that we Autobots would enslave the poor younglings – or worse. I was still a bit offended at the thought, but having experienced captivity, I understood how she must have felt.

Now, she was calm and even wore a careful, guarded smile on her small faceplates. She wasn't tense, but rather just aware of her surroundings, like anyone in a new place with new people. I didn't get the feeling that she was scared, or thought that the situation was precarious or otherwise just posing danger to her. Her wings were relaxed, and she stood in an easy manner, not crouching for flight or still and rigid because of fear. She simply… was.

I was extremely happy that she could, in a time-span of just about thirty minutes, calm so much. She'd been so scared, so different, that I had a hard time believing that I was looking at the very same youngling!

And then she noticed me and met my optics. She jumped and then retreated behind the white Seeker still unaware of my presence, talking to Jetfire. I could guess that she was the trine leader, of what little Fast Forward had told me between munching his late energon-goodie. The twitchy Seeker yanked her friend's wing in a none-too-gentle manner, and even I could hear the yelp it caused – and see the reproachful glare it earned. The green Seeker didn't seem to care, and instead whispered something to her supposed trine-leader. The white one turned to Jetfire and said something before turning around and starting to walk towards me and my father, her trine in tow.

Now there was no mistaking it – I'd seen the formation they automatically did while walking so many times on the battle field that I was certain of the hierarchy. The white one called the shots, without a doubt.

'What do you think they need?' I inquired over our bond. I felt him shrug.

'I'm not sure, but I don't think they mean anything bad. But be careful of what you say to them – Jetfire only now managed to calm them down. They are a wee bit… how should I put it…? They are still a bit scared, I think,' he replied. I felt another pang of pity slam my spark around, but like the ones before it, I told it to frag off. They did not need my pity. They needed something actually done. They needed my help.

"Prime, sir. Kaceystar, ma'am," the white one greeted formally. For someone so young, her voice sounded strangely old. She sounded like Prowl! I quickly glanced at my father, my optics and spark screaming a loud what?! He told me to let it just slide over our bond. I did, and instead of telling the Seeker how being called "ma'am" made me feel about a million years old I smiled at her, trying my best to look friendly and informal. Maybe that would coax her to be less formal as well…

"You do know you don't have to call me that, right?" I asked, making sure I had a good amount of joking in my voice, lest she be scared that I was mad at her. Pit, I didn't know how their processors worked! She chuckled, a sound suggesting both embarrassment and apology.

"Sorry, old habits die hard, if at all," she said, her optics falling to the ground, but the corners of her mouth were twitching in something almost like a smile. My own version widened a little.

"That's alright, no problem at all. Just so that you don't think that we require it from you," I clarified and shrugged it off. She gave a nervous laugh and looked at us again.

"Yeah, I already heard about that. I'll work on it… We'll work on it," she corrected and looked at her trine. I'd never seen a look like that on the face of someone with red optics. It was… well… Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shared looks like that every now and then on their brotherly moods. It was friendly, but then a little more. I shook my head to clear it a little before addressing her again.

"Did you have something to ask?" I said, searching their faces for any signs of anxiety or negativity. I didn't find any. Dang, Jetfire was good… and Fast Forward had been right in pointing him out as the best option for calming down these younglings. I made a mental note to thank him later. I was starting to get really intrigued with this Seeker business. Maybe I could get Nightfall to talk to me once she woke up… and once the Hatchet let someone in to talk…

"My trine-mates and I would like to express the gratitude of all of us in behalf of Cross, since she's out of commission, as well as Nightfall. They were told to lead us until we got here, but since they are both too damaged to perform their duties and since we have already been taken as sort of liaisons between the refugees and the Autobots at this time, it falls on me to perform the duties of my superiors until further notice. Therefore, we express our utmost gratitude for letting us into your base and taking care of us. We promise not to harm anyone, mech, femme or youngling, or otherwise cause any trouble during our stay. We are also willing to work for our up-keep, and if need be, defend the base from enemy assault," she finished with a sharp salute, which her trine immediately mimicked.

I was floored. I had to ask if Prowl had any Seeker relatives, because this one could have been his sister with how she was acting!

"It's no strain to us," my father assured the uptight little femme, who still hadn't let go of her salute. "We are just glad to know that the only survivors of the war weren't on the Axalon. And we most definitely will not have younglings fighting against the 'Cons, refugee or not! Nor are we going to put you to work. What you should do is get educated, and I'm sure we can arrange that somehow," he smiled at the Seekers. The three cautiously dropped their salutes and looked at us shyly.

"What are your names, exactly?" I asked."I already overheard your name," I nodded to the green Seeker, "before Jetfire approached you. But the other two I do not know." Wingslide looked a bit sheepish.

"Sorry about that episode… I lost myself for a moment there…" she muttered, eliciting muffled laughter from her blue "sister" and an unmasked grin from the trine-leader. Then the white Seeker looked at me.

"I am known as Suntop, and the blue, quiet one is Dodge. You said you already heard Wingslide… I'm not surprised," she confined to me, making Dodge giggle and Wingslide give her a sour look, which Suntop promptly ignored, as if from practice. Her face went from joking to serious in less than a second.

"We are honored to meet you. The elder sisters told us so much about your adventures through space, and then the things you managed to do against the 'Cons." She chuckled nervously.

"Actually, I thought you'd be quite a bit older, and perhaps a bit taller. It seems unreal that someone your age could do all that," she said, measuring me up. Dodge shifted on her side.

"You forget, 'Top, that she's from the Prime lineage. They aren't like us – never have been! I wouldn't dream of comparing her with us – or anyone else from the refugees. The only ones worthy to be compared are her own siblings, and that would just be cruel," she quietly said, casting her optics down to avoid my gaze. Suntop chuckled.

"As usual, you are right, wing-sister. She's not like us, because she's born to lead, to lead the Cybertronians. No Seeker was ever worthy of that, nor will one ever be worthy. Kaceystar," she said, turning her optics to me, "I do not envy you: a terrible responsibility weighs on you, and it will attempt to drag you down. Do not let it. The Autobots will not be the only ones looking for your guidance in the future, as the Autobots now look for your father's. But don't let yourself despair over this – you have many friends and allies to turn to, and more will come, in time. I, for one, hold deep respect for you. So much has already been thrown your way, yet you seem unstoppable. Please remain that way. We need you. We all do."

I felt tears prickling in my optics, but I still felt inadequate, in some level. Even as my father sent me his love, I couldn't help but doubt the Seeker's words. I had to ask…

"Why do you need me?"

Her bright red optics softened, hearing my quiet tone, and her mouth stretched into a kind smile the likes of which I'd never seen on a Seeker before.

"Because you are our Hope. Without you, why should we go on? What should we look forward to? You are just that important."


Prowl

After I'd organized the feeding of the new younglings and made sure that they were all at least relatively comfortable, I retreated to a quieter corner to calm myself down a notch. I hadn't shown it to anyone, but I was actually very shaken by this new tide in our nearly two-thousand-year-old war. Never before had I even considered the possibility of a third faction, and now it was slapped onto my face like a wet towel.

Needless to say, it was an unsettling experience. I should've taken that possibility into account so long ago, I shouldn't have taken the assumption that there were only two variables in this war for granted, I should have –

:Babe? You okay?:

:I'm fine, Jazz. Just a bit unsettled. Nothing that I can't handle.: I sent him a quick caress through our bond and hoped he would drop the issue. Slaggit, I really must've been distracted if I couldn't even rein my feelings in enough to keep them from dripping to Jazz's side of the bond…

:Bullslag, Prowl. Your spark is shaking, and you never get that unsettled. Tell me right now or so help me I will come over there and make you talk!:

I couldn't help but shiver as he flooded our bond with promises of interfacing me into submission in front of the whole Autobot base. I knew he'd do that, if it made me talk to him, tell him why I was so stressed out all of a sudden. But how could I tell him that all my life as the Autobot head tactician I'd overlooked a serious possibility? A variable that could well change the tide of war! I felt like such a failure that I accidently let some of the feeling go over the bond.

:Wait right there.:

Before I could protest, Jazz flooded the bond with all the reassurance and love that he had for me, all the trust he put into me and every positive thing he could gather in his haste to get to where I was sulking. I released a deep sigh and resigned myself to hearing what an idiot I was for even thinking that. But I knew I was right. I should have guessed…

I heaved another hefty sigh as I felt his arms circle my waist from behind, caressing my hips and his breath on my neck before nipping on a couple of wires. I involuntarily leaned into his affections, some of the tension in my frame leaving.

"What is wrong, Prowl?"

"This could have been a huge disaster," I confessed. I felt him shrug.

"It wasn't. Everything we do can end up as a huge disaster, Prowl, you know that. But it doesn't stop us from doing our thing. So, exactly what is it that got you so worked up now?"

I hesitated for a moment before giving in. I always did feel uncomfortable accepting my short-comings, even if it was only to confessing to my bonded.

"I never took into account that there could be a third faction in this war. If they hadn't been on our side… If they'd been just another faction of Decepticons… Primus, Jazz, I would have doomed us all!" I felt him try to reach me through the bond, and I reluctantly let him envelope me in the ethereal world to a warm embrace, feelings of reassurance and love surging straight to my spark.

"Prowl, none of us could have seen this happening, and you can't take the blame all to yourself. There was absolutely no sign of these people during the whole war! How could you have known?"

"I should have thought about it… Nothing is that black and white, Jazz."

"And we knew that. We did know about the Neutrals, right? We always knew there were pacifists who declined to fight on either side. I'd thought that that was enough variables, as well." When he felt my guilt still ripping at my spark, he gave a sigh and turned me around.

"Prowl," he said, looking me straight into the optics and probably seeing my spark as well, "don't do this to yourself. If we all start thinking the what-ifs in this war, we won't have the time to actually fight off the 'Cons, and the war would be over in an instant. Now, as lovely as the ending of the war sounds, I don't think that's the way we wanna do it. C'mon, babe, get yourself together. You're scaring the slag out of me," he ended softly, pecking me on the lips. I sighed and gave in, letting him pull me close and hug me.

He was right, after all. We all knew the risks involved, and that there would be surprises along the way. My job was to try and foresee those surprises in case they were nasty, and therefore I rather disliked being surprised. Even in my wildest dreams I could never have imagined taking care of a 'Con-born sparkling.

First of all, up until thirty years ago I'd thought that our race was living on borrowed time – there simply weren't enough younglings with this crazy war going on. I had been sure our race was doomed… Then, Kaceystar had appeared, and suddenly everyone seemed to be procreating. But even though we'd started to have children again, only two Decepticon sparklings existed to my knowledge – Megatron's spawns, both. That hadn't been the case, and I'd only known that after something could have happened. I'd been proven wrong, and I hated, hated to be misinformed. It was my duty as both head tactician and SIC to know everything and take care of what needed to be done, whatever it took.

'Prowl? We need you at the refugee younglings – something's not right.'

I couldn't hold back the groan at Socket's message. What now?

'On my way. Details of the situation? Did someone go hysteric?'

'Negative, but the Seekers refuse to drink their energon.'

'Slag. See if you can convince them that we aren't trying to poison them. My ETA is one minute.'

"Jazz, I need to go. The Seekers are not eating." He frowned.

"Can't someone else take care of it? You look like you could use some serious recharge, man."

I couldn't help the smile forcing its way to my tired faceplates.

"I know, Jazz, but I am second-in-command. I need to see to this, I have to know these things. If it is something I did wrong, I'll have to correct it myself."

He sighed and let go of me. But the look he gave me afterwards was a clear warning of what would happen if I let myself fall into stasis while trying to do my duty. He'd offline me for sure!

"Alright," he allowed, but as I turned to go, he grabbed my arm and yanked me close. "But don't you dare go and get yourself overworked again. I will go through with my promises!" he hissed before letting go. I could just stand there and watch as he sashayed away, making sure to move in a way that almost highlighted his hips.

'Prowl? Where are you?'

'Sorry, Sockets, on my way.'

I steeled myself and marched over to where Sockets was doing his best to make a couple of Seekers drink the energon cubes set in front of them.

"It's not poisoned, it's perfectly normal energon!" he said, exasperated. I could imagine that this was a seriously distressing situation for the young medic, as it was the first time he was actually in charge of some patients without a senior medic to back him up.

"What's the problem here?" I asked, saving his aft. He cast me a grateful look and stepped aside, relieved to have someone take the pressure away from him and not hiding it at all. Lucky slagger, I thought almost bitterly before kicking myself mentally. This was no time to get self-piteous!

The five Seeker younglings looked at me like I'd eat them. Great. This day was going exactly as planned… The oldest of the group was shoved forward a bit, and he cast a dirty look to his comrades over his shoulders before looking at me again.

"You see, sir second-in-command, sir, we Seekers… we can't, umm… the energon makes us sick," he confessed quietly and looked down, his face a mask of shame and maybe a bit of fear. It tore at my spark to see a youngling of any kind look at me like that, but I had to stay strong.

"What do you mean 'it makes you sick'? It's freshly brewed, I specifically made sure that you were only given high-quality and low-grade energon to keep it in your tanks without any side-effects," I said, wondering what he could imply. I could smell from even where I was standing that the energon was perfectly edible, there was absolutely nothing wrong with it…

"We know, and the grounders are sipping it down rather trustingly as well," the Seeker said and pointed to ground-based younglings, already happily sipping… no, that was scarfing down their energon portions, with a couple of femmes trying to get them to slow down so that they wouldn't purge their tanks because of the quick refill. The Seeker refocused on me, continuing slowly. "Our problem is with our own tanks, not your energon. Fliers need a different solution of energon so that they can work in optimum condition, and drinking energon with a grade too low will just wind us up with a severe systems upset."

Brilliant. Just what I needed: the younglings couldn't drink the nutrition made for them. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Do you then know what kind of an energon will be sufficient?" I asked, almost painfully. I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but this was simply ridiculous!

"I think we need something akin to high grade, but I'm not sure how to make it," he said, looking thoughtful. Then his face brightened. "Perhaps we could try to mix high grade and low grade together, see what it looks like?" he asked, his optics sparkling with an enthusiasm I didn't think a half-starved youngling could have. I sighed.

"Sockets, is it possible?" He frowned, thinking hard.

"I don't know, we should ask Ratchet, but he's in surgery, and told us others to leave him the slag alone until he gives us the okay again. I'm not crazy enough to go and bother him with critical patients in the med, even less when he's trying to re-attach wings on a youngling! Re-attaching limbs is hard enough, and the wings are always a tad bit trickier, and he's been moody lately. If you want to send someone, send one of the twins, or Ironhide. They'll just get their afts handed to them, they'll survive it, they're tough enough…" he said with a wry smile and a chuckle. I couldn't help but agree, and so opened a comm. link to Ironhide. The twins weren't reliable enough, they'd just attempt a spontaneous prank on him…

'Ironhide here.'

'Prowl on the line, I need you to go and ask Ratchet what we should do with the Seeker younglings. They require a different solution of energon as a source of food than the ground-based mechs and femmes, and the younglings themselves don't seem to know the exact way to make the stuff.'

'Ratchet's performing surgery. He's got laser scalpels there, Prowl, not just the regular welders or wrenches, and you want me to go there to ask how to feed a couple of sparklings? Just how much do you hate me?' I almost chuckled. Almost. But I didn't have the time, patience or any other of the requirements to deal with a whining mech right now.

'You're a big mech, Ironhide, you can handle it. Think of it as just another high-risk mission, or your regular battle – I'll even give you a reason to do it: the younglings are close to starvation, and it's up to you to go and get them their energon. But don't shoot anything. If you do that, I won't have to tell you that you would be coming back from there in small bits and pieces – if at all.'

'If you are trying to persuade me into doing this high-risk mission for you, you are going entirely the wrong way about it.' The sigh he exhaled was like a tsunami in my audios, and I had to concentrate my tired CPU to comprehend his next words. 'A'ight, a'ight, I'm going. But you better bring flowers to my grave.'

'I'll give you roses,' I promised and cut the link. "Alright then, one of our mechs is on his way to ask Ratchet how to feed Seekers. hopefully he will have an answer when he comes back. If not, we'll see how this low grade high grade mix works out."

"Who did you send?" Sockets quietly asked as the younglings started to chat with each other animatedly. My face remained passive and indifferent, as it was intended to be.

"Ironhide." His brow wrinkled.

"Can we afford to lose him?"

"I told him to take it as another mission. He'll be on high alert."

"If he knows what's good for him, he'll be…" Sockets muttered and walked off to tend to a young femme showing the first signs of a system upset. I sighed. These poor younglings didn't have anything to do with the 'Cons. But how, how had they survived alone for so long? Who were these refugees? My CPU was racing with questions, questions I didn't have answers to, and I felt my anxiety rise again. I quickly squashed it down, not wanting to show any signs of breaking in front the troops or the young arrivals. They all had enough to take care of already; I needed to get myself together, just as Jazz had said. They all required it from me right now.

After a couple of minutes my comm. informed me that someone was on the line. I opened, but before I could acknowledge anything, Ironhide's hugely irritated voice nearly blew my audio off.

'WHAT THE FRAG, PROWL!? That was not a high-risk mission, that was a SUICIDE!'

I tuned the comm. link hastily down a bit, then answered.

'I am sure you overdid yourself.'

'The frag Ah did, Ah'll o'erdo YOU when I geddere, slaggit! Next time ya want someone t'go bother Ratche' when 'e's fixin' som'thin', you can ferget me from yah list!' he said, slipping to his own, special dialect in his rage.

'Were you successful?' I calmly inquired, knowing he'd calm down enough not to dismantle me before he reached me… or at least not do any lasting damage.

'Yeh Ah was,' he said, already sounding a bit calmer than before as he remembered that the younglings depended on him to get their fuel. 'Ratchet wasn't happy, but he gave me some mumbo jumbo on a datapad and told me to give it to Sockets for interpreting. He didn't say it that nicely, though.'

'Good, make sure everything is taken care of. I don't think my CPU's going to be able to go on for much longer.'

'You should have said something, Prowl. You know you aren't Primus, don't try to do everything yourself. Ever heard of delegating work?' I felt like growling, but had no trouble suppressing the absurd desire.

'Yes, in fact I have. But I need to be there to oversee everything and help if needed. I need to know everything, Ironhide, and I am delegating work. I did, after all, send you to Ratchet instead of going myself, and now I'll send you to get the recipe to Sockets,' I couldn't help the tired smile twist the corners of my mouth.

'Frag off, that's not how I meant the delegating process... Ironhide out.' he said with a chuckle and severed the connection.

A couple of hours later I crashed on the berth that Jazz and I shared in our quarters, laying myself beside Jazz, who was already happily snoring away. I smiled and caressed his helm, the smile widening as he sighed and leaned in to my affections, not breaking his recharge cycle. I gave a slight groan at my tired limbs before making myself comfortable.

I barely had the time to set my internal alarm to six o'clock in the following morning with a reminder to check in with Ratchet as soon as possible before recharge claimed me.


I apologize profusely for the HORRIBLE delays, but this language is only now starting to get into my head. I did rock with the economy and social studies tests (read: got over half the points), English (the b!tch we have instead of a teacher refused to score it, just writing "Good!" on the damn paper…! At least the others bother putting in the real scores, despite the fact that I'm not getting any kind of grades for the whole year…) and Sports (soccer-football, got and A/10/1/whatever is the best grade in your country). Now it's X-mas holidays, no more tests… Thank God… The Origins story will hopefully be updated during the holiday break, I've got one "chapter" ready for it already, in which Cripplerip bonds, but that's strictly the bonding, so it's unnecessary to read – if you don't want to.

R&R makes a happy authoress!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE!