Scent of the Future

Authors Note: plunger02 has told me that Sabre is a 'remote control car' with his wheels (Ratchet's modification to his sparkling body). He is too! I completely missed that interpretation. Nice one! Thanks. Just, nobody give Sunstreaker the controls, poor Sabre would be doing endless burnouts and donuts. Or be entered into the Indy 500.

Chapter 8

Two weeks after Sabre's arrival... early morning...

Sabre stood on his tippy-toes and peeked over the top of his special recharge berth, looking at Optimus Prime and Elita One. Neither of them were on-line. His sire was lying on his back, while his mother was lying on her side next to him, her head snuggled on his arm. The mechling grumpily sat back down onto his aft with a thump. He wanted to get up and be doing things. Waiting wasn't something he loved very much.

Sabre's bed was a cushioned oblong box positioned at the end of his parents much larger recharge berth. While Elita often coo-ed him into recharge while holding him close to her body, he was not allowed to recharge with them physically. Optimus was terrified of rolling on top of him (squashed sparklings were the subject of his nightmares), and Elita didn't think it was such a great idea either. Even her slight form was a danger to a tiny sparkling. They made extra time to allow Sabre to at least once a day snuggle up with them on the big berth and take naps, but not while both of them were off-line. It was too risky.

Sabre reached down to the end of his berth and picked up his new friend – the largest teddy bear Sam Witwicky could find (and sent via UPS as the sparkling's first ever present. Sam was at university), as big as Sabre himself. It was brown, with a red ribbon around its neck. When Sabre had gotten over his fear of what the squishy thing was, he'd gotten too enthusiastic, and squeezed the bear hard enough that his tummy had burst open and showered a surprised Sabre with white bits of fluff.

The distressed sparkling had been cradled in his father's arms (Optimus had at last gotten over his terrible fear of hurting Sabre, and was now very good at carefully holding him – he'd gotten tired of being called a 'boofhead' and 'Commander Wimp' by Elita) while Ratchet sewed his teddy back together, all the time muttering softly about it being time to retire if his importance to the Autobot army amounted to him repairing injured 'teddy bears'.

Optimus had suggested putting a bandage on the newly repaired bear to show Sabre that his bear was all better now.

Ratchet had stared at him. Blinked. Quietly went into an adjacent room with sagging shoulders, closed the door – banged his head on an empty med bench, tossed around a few white-hot curses – then opened the door, came back in, fetched a small bandage, and covered the bear's sewed-up belly with it. Sabre had squealed with happiness, clicking and warbling happily at Ratchet, his hands holding onto his bear friend tightly.

Prime left the medbay, chuckling, with Sabre waving 'bye-bye' over his shoulder. Optimus had waited EONS to get back at the medic with something simple like that; score!

Sabre perked up when he heard noises coming from his parents. He dropped his bear, using both hands to hold onto the surrounding wall of his berth and peek over the top. He squealed happily. His dad was up!

"Morning Sabre," large hands scooped down into the small berth and plucked up the sparkling. Sabre giggled, kicked, clicked and warbled all at once. Sparkling overload.

Soft deep blue optics met small blazing ones, Optimus going optic-to-optic with the mechling dangling in the air, held under his armpits. The pair grinned at each other.

"Don't hold him like that... not dignified for our little Prince. Hello Sabby, sweetie." Elita was still curled up on the berth on her side, her face resting on one hand. Her optics blinked. She was intent on getting another half hour of recharge before her shift began.

Prime shifted Sabre to sit him down next to Elita. The femme smiled and reached out with one hand to stroke her sparkling. Sabre purred, rubbing his head into her hand, dimming his optics.

"Come on, Jazz is waiting for you, enough lovey stuff, we have to go," Optimus smoothly picked up Sabre again, this time settling the tyke onto his shoulder and supporting him with one hand so he wouldn't fall. His other hand carried Sabre's teddy. "And he has your energon intake ready for you, too." Sabre squealed clapping his hands. "Have a nice day, 'Lita..."

"You too. Oh! Don't forget we're meeting with Keller just after noon!" Elita called out, grinning. She would be meeting their official Earth Government liaison for the first time – and so was Sabre.

"Yes ma'am," Optimus flashed her a light smile over his shoulder. How could I forget! Femmes. Organising everything and everyone down to the last microsecond. He made short work of delivering Sabre and teddy to his caretaker for the morning, Jazz. The Co-Second-In-Command knew a few words of sparkling chatter, and was nattering away with his little buddy like old friends when Optimus departed. Optimus had a date with Ratchet...

Sabre paused in his 'talk' to stare at his father disappearing out the door. He whimpered, clicking sadly at Jazz with wide optics.

"Aww, c'mon, he'll be back. And Elita will be popping in to see you soon as well!" Jazz explained, holding Sabby in the crook of one arm while he fixed up 'breakfast' with another. Sabre chirped sadly. He didn't like it when he had to spend time away from his parents. His caretakers were good, and Optimus and Elita only disappeared for their duties for the morning, they managed to squash everything they had to do into the time between waking up, and noon, so the rest of the day and evening was spent with their sparkling.

Sabre couldn't walk. He could just manage taking wobbly steps by holding onto someone's hand and concentrating hard (Elita found it both hysterical and absolutely spark-warming to watch Optimus on his knees, holding Sabre's hands to support him while the sparkling tottered around in front of him, practising walking). Mostly he scrambled across the floor on all fours – and he was amazingly fast at doing that. Optimus Prime's second fear about his sparkling was now reality. The mechling didn't worry about getting trodden on, he dashed anywhere and everywhere he felt like. If a clueless big foot was coming down straight at his head he just stared at it with interest.

Ironhide had kindly informed Optimus he looked like a ditzy ballerina when he tip-toed around, staring at the floor with his arms held out for balance, while Sabre criss-crossed the floor like a monkey.

The Weapons Specialist was assigned only midnight shifts for all of the next week for that wise-crack. Ironhide felt it was worth it.

Ratchet predicted Sabre would be walking in another few months. His stabilisers and balance gyros were primitive but adequate. Like all new Transformers, he needed to learn how to control himself in this small body before he could progress to a bigger one.

Tinkering with some data-files, and sending information packets back and forth with Prowl, Jazz managed to get SOME work done while sparkling-sitting. Sabre was happy to sit and talk to his bear, or scramble around the rec room for exercise. Jazz wasn't aware of the plan in Sabre's head to escape and find his way back to his parents. His CPU was quick. Very quick. He knew that the fastest way to transport himself around was by using his wheels. But he wasn't allowed to control them.

He sat down on his aft, stumpy legs splayed out in front of him. Thinking. He reasoned that re-routing the control sequence would leave an open end to it, which could be picked up and manipulated by his own control processor, completely by-passing whoever was controlling it at the other end...

Jazz removed his attention from the vidscreen and looked back at Sabre, his audio's picking up the faint sounds of a transformation sequence, "Sabby? You okay... PRIMUS IN A PIT BUCKET!"

The spark in his chest felt like it had fizzled out. Sabre had transformed into his 'wheels' mode, and rocketed out the door with a delighted squeal of accomplishment. He took off so fast his teddy was left behind on the floor, tumbled end-over-end by the backdraft.

"SABRE!" Jazz shrieked, jumping up from his chair. How the SLAG did the kid get his wheels out?! There ain't no emergency!

Sabre whistled and giggled with happiness. Now he could really get somewhere! He swerved all over the vacant hallway in crazy patterns like a drunk missile before he worked out how to steer himself. And he had to remember to keep his arms close to his chest or they dragged on the ground. His transformation computer had been programmed to stop him crashing, but it didn't help him to 'steer' to a destination. That was up to him.

Jazz sent out a frantic 'All Autobots' distress signal while he ran down the hallway::SABRE IS LOOSE! SABRE IS LOOSE! HE HAS WHEELS AND HE KNOWS HOW TO USE THEM!::

"OPTIMUS! Turn off Sabre!" Jazz yelled into his communicator, sliding around the hallway turns by hanging onto the wall with one hand and pumping his legs to get back up to speed. Sabre had long since disappeared into the depths of the base. The kid was fast.

"I didn't turn him on!! He won't respond! Where is he going?! Why did he transform?" Prime's voice came back at him, distressed. "I'm heading your way!"

Ratchet had been exiting the medbay, a few datapads in one hand, his head bowed as he reviewed them when Sabre tore past him.

"WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeee!" Sabre rocketed past the medic, just missing hitting his feet by microinches.

Ratchet's mouthplates gaped, "Sabre?! What the..." The medic took microseconds to activate his communicator, "SPARKLING SIGHTED IN THE WEST-END SECTION! HEADING NORTH!" he yelled.

"On it." Prowl's voice was cool, un-hurried, but very determined. He had already sent out multiple orders to have all of the hallways blocked, all exits/entrances to the base closed down, and every security camera was delivering live feeds straight to his CPU.

The east wing was quiet, only Ironhide occupied it, leaning over a large table and dismantling his latest weapons project gone wrong.

There was a rush of air between his legs, and a happy scream.

Ironhide's head jerked up. "Huh?" He swung around, seeing Sabre's aft on wheels whooshing out the door after racing between his legs. "Sabre?!" He took off after the mechling.

Defence Secretary Keller was waiting patiently in the foremost hanger with his small team of men. He could hear shouts, yells, and hurried metal-on-metal commotion. Not having visited the Autobots very often, he wasn't sure if all this disarray was normal, or if there really was a crisis.

Jazz (the small silver resurrected robot) pounded past them in an adjacent corridor, waving his arms like a maniac, and screaming, "He's coming! He's coming! Block the exit, for Primus' sake!"

Keller squinted, scratching at his chin. Oh. Must be normal then. His men nervously fingered the guns in their armpits.

Sabre's wheels mode raced past the room, he hit his brakes and spun around expertly (seeing the mass of mech's waiting for him at the exit) and accelerated into the hanger occupied by Keller and his men. Sabre went far too close to Keller, and just managed to clip his right foot with one wheel.

"OWWW! SHIT! Owwww! What the... oWWW!" Keller hopped up and down on his remaining un-injured foot, holding his hurt foot tenderly.

The bodyguards went into high alert mode, plucking out their guns and surrounding Keller. The SecDef continued to curse and hop.

"What IS that thing?!", one gun-toting suit yelled nervously, tracking the small object with wheels gunning it around the hanger.

"SABRE!" Optimus Prime's long legs brought him striding into the hanger, his optics flickering between Sabre racing around and Keller standing in disbelief and watching the entire mess with wearied incredulity.

"Don't shoot at him!" Prime commanded the armed humans. "Sabre, stop!"

"I second that! No shooting! Stand down!" Keller sternly directed his trigger-happy men, wincing over his foot. The suits all looked at each other, and slowly slid their guns back into their holsters.

Sabre, having caught sight of his huge father, squeaked, turned in his direction, and accelerated straight at him. Optics wide, Optimus crouched on bent legs, ready for anything. At the last moment, Sabre retracted his wheels and went flying through the air – his momentum carried him right into his father's waiting arms – and sent Optimus past his balance point, crashing down onto his back, his arms full of excited sparkling.

"Optimus?! Sabre?!" Elita One ran into the room, and came up short. Optimus was lying on his back with the mechling on his chest. Sabre was sitting up and chattering excitedly, waving his arms with squeaks and clicks.

The rest of the base clattered into the hanger, all staring at their Commander on the floor with Sabre on his front, tapping his father's nose with one curious finger, while Keller had his hand on one of his men's shoulder and was keeping his weight off his sore appendage.

"Holy Primus..." Ratchet surveyed the room. Keller had removed his shoe and was examining his foot for damage. Optimus was getting to his feet, carrying an over-excited Sabre.

"Ratchet, please scan Mr Keller's foot for serious injury and get him treated," Prime batted away Sabre's grabby hands trying to pat his face. "And as for you; little grease spot; how on Cybertron did you get control of your wheels?!"

Sabre made 'vroom, vroom' noises, giggling.

"Hang on, wait, wait," Keller waved away Ratchet's concerned probing, "is THAT what we've come here to see?" the man asked, pointing at the sparkling in Optimus' arms.

"Yes, but that's not all." Optimus slowly got down onto one knee in front of the man, "Another protoform landed as well." Elita came up behind him, her arms crossed, watching her sparkmate and sparkling. "Sir, may I introduce Elita One, my sparkmate."

Elita One inclined her head, smiling faintly, "Pleased to met you."

"Hello, and uh, Sparkmate?" Keller's eyes stared shrewdly up at the small-sized rose-colored robot. "What is that?

Prime cocked his head. Sabre clicked. "She is like what your culture would refer to as my 'wife', although our bond goes much deeper than that."

"SHE?" Keller's eyebrow's rose up, "A girl?" Come to think of it, the robot did appear very feminine. Curves, red-ish coloring, female face.

"I am what is called a femme, actually." Elita interjected. "Female."

"...now I've seen everything," the SecDef murmured, amazed.

"And this little hazard on wheels is our sparkling. Sabre." Optimus carefully held Sabre in both his hands and lowered the mechling for Keller to look at. "I apologise profusely for his behaviour. He didn't know what he was doing. He's only two weeks old. Still learning." Sabre stared at the human with as much fascinated interest as the man was showing him in return.

"A... what? Excuse me? You've got a... a... baby?"

"Yes we do," Elita nodded, "We didn't expect it to happen so soon. It's as much a surprise for us as it is to you." She gently took Sabre from his father's arms, scolding him quietly. Sabre's mouthplates drooped and he sniffled. He knew he was in trouble.

"Oh. Well then. Very good. Nice to, er, meet you all." Keller didn't dare ask HOW robots produced babies. His job description only went so far. He started to limp off, Ratchet chasing after him and making protests about his injured foot.

"Fifty-three miles per hour! Fifty-three!" Sunstreaker said to Sideswipe in disbelief. "He doesn't even have a proper engine! And did you see those turns he made? Wow!"

Prowl scowled, crossing his arms. "There is a speed limit in the hallways. Sabre broke it by thirty-eight miles per hour."

Jazz cocked an optic ridge, "Going to install speed cameras now, are you?"

Prowl harrumphed. "Might be a good idea..."

"Man, you need some time off, y'know? A vacation." Jazz patted his taller friend on the shoulder.

Optimus Prime gazed at them all, then turned disappointed optics on his sparkling. Sabre blinked innocently at him from Elita's arms. "You can't explain to me how you over-rode the control systems on your wheels, can you?"

Sabre chirped, waving his arms.

"I think that's either a 'no' or 'I will not incriminate myself and I want a lawyer'," Elita interpreted for Optimus with amusement. "Go easy on him, Optimus. I'm sure he didn't understand the ramifications of what he was doing."

"Mmm." Prime, propped his fists on his hips, looking down at the floor. "We are fortunate that the only injury sustained was Mr Kellers sore foot. It could have been much worse."

The expression on Sabre's small face was completely innocent and wide-eyed. Then he did an exhaust burp, letting his opinion of the situation made clear. The mechling clapped his hands, amused.

"Oh Primus... I knew that was coming... eeeuw..." Elita scrunched up her noseplates at the offensive smell. She looked up accusingly at Optimus Prime, "He is definitely your son."

Optimus cringed. "Opps."

Ironhide walked up to them, snickering, "Yeah. That familiar aroma has Prime's name all over it."

"OPTIMUS!" Jazz cried, backing away from them with his hands over his noseplates. Prowl looked like he wanted to do the same, and he struggled to maintain his decorum, despite the smell.

"I didn't do it! It was him!" Optimus pointed an accusing finger at Sabre.

Ratchet smacked him lightly in the back of the head, "Don't go blaming innocent youngsters!"

"Ugh," Prime's hands covered his face. Sabre found that hilarious and began shrieking with laughter.