Chapter Eleven: Ascension
Samantha's right side was aflame and she found a pained moan escaping her chapped lips. She attempted to lift her arms and settle them onto her stomach in the hopes that the added pressure might dull the pain some, but found that they were leaden. She could scarcely twitch her fingers let alone raise her entire limb. A whimper escaped when she discovered that she couldn't even find the energy to lift her head off of the gloriously soft pillow it was settled on.
"Remain calm, sparkling. Undue stress will not be tolerated." The baritone, almost harsh voice had her instincts spoiling to curl her fingers into fists and fight if necessary since she obviously hadn't the energy to get up and run. Her heart rate hitched for only a moment before the nanites took control over and injected themselves more heavily around the muscle to keep it from fluttering again.
Her head lolled to the side to take in the almost lean Cybertronian standing beside the berth she was settled on. He was roughly the same height as Bumblebee, perhaps taller and slightly wider in the upper arms. His base coloring was an impenetrable black abyss while fire-red and dull grey accents added emphasis to his dark appeal. His facial structure reminded her of Thade, the lead chimp from the 2003 Planet of the Apes. Of course his face was more angular, all Cybertronians' were, but there was a distinct 'primate' look about it. She wasn't sure if it was the boxed chin or the flattened nasal ridge that made her think it. His oral cavity was covered by a battle mask and his optics glowed red behind the see-through pale red visor. For a mech he was uniquely handsome.
He's got himself a serious brood going on that face of his.
"Good, sparkling. You must remain calm and still for the nanites to do as they were meant to." One of his clawed servos came to rest over her entire torso. A jolt ran through her at the contact. She gritted her teeth when she felt the line, his line, snapping taut and become more solid in her mind. It only occurred to her in that moment that he had been there, anyway…she was only now just realizing it.
Flatline. His name was Flatline. He was Megatron's Chief Medical Officer. He had been a surgeon of the Cybertronian variety even before the War had started. Brilliant. The mech was absolutely brilliant if not a little high-handed and righteous. He was, as the humans would say, born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
Her head spun dizzily when she felt them all. Every single one of the deadened, starkly cold lines that had maintained between the Cybertronians and the Allspark had flared to life. Well, close to all. If one of them was on the planet or within range of Cybertron's sensor-nets, she was reconnected to them. She felt the bonds as clearly as she'd felt her Autobots for the last several years.
It was difficult to contain her sigh of contentment.
He didn't remove his servo even once she acknowledged the bond and caressed it inwardly. In point of fact, he settled the weight of his servo more heavily onto her, the blunted claws of his digits harmlessly tinging against the berth to either side of her.
"Very good, sparkling." He purred attentively, the claw that would be his thumb rubbing along her scalp.
"Sam." She croaked, only now noticing for the first time that she was wearing a kind of oxygen mask that was not attached to any tubes. Her voice was muffled by it slightly, but she knew that no mask would make her words unintelligible to the 'Con. "My name is Sam."
"Is this your preferred designation? In-depth studies of the homo-sapien reveal that allotted designations at birth are often condensed to ease communication and imply comfort between allies." She eyed the 'Con warily. She'd never get used to the fact that they had to learn to 'speak human' even if they knew English.
"Call me Sam."
"Preferred designation is logged." That monotone sounded eerily like Soundwave. No emotion…no nothing. Speaking of, she wondered where he'd run off to. She was too druggedly tried to reach for him through his line, but his fixation on her demanded that he not stray too far for too long. "Are your pain receptors back online, Sam?"
They were, but she knew that he already knew that. He had a bond with her now. He'd be able to feel her pain since she was physically incapable of blocking him out in her exhaustion. Still, it seemed only polite to answer his question since he had bothered to ask it out loud.
"Yes."
She whimpered again when one finger broke apart much as Ratchet's would to reveal several different alien implements of healing…or torture for some poor unfortunate souls. The tool he lowered towards her, however, was eerily similar to the soft-domed syringe Ratchet had taken to using with her. How did he get that technology? She was certain that she was his one and only human patient. There would have been no need to develop new tools to improve upon the existing human medical technology if he didn't have a human under his care before her.
"How'd you get that?" She mumbled, her brows furrowed as he moved the injector towards her. He ignored the question.
"It is only a mild 'pain-killer'." Without preamble he pressed the smooth cap to the curve of her neck. The pain, not surprisingly, was a lot less than when she'd last had a human doctor give her a shot in her arm. In truth, there was none at all. Just a trickle of coolness and a 'finger-flick' against her skin. Nothing more. "I will keep you on a regiment of fluids and various pain remedies until your nanites have cleared the rupture site completely."
"Rupture?" She slurred, her brows furrowing. Mild my ass! This stuff's worse than Cortisone on a bender!
"Your appendix ruptured during the confrontation between Lord Megatron, Optimus Prime, and Vector Prime. Ratchet should have had you under a stricter watch. This oversight will not be made again while you are under the watch of my Lord's mechs." The words were an odd combination of ominous dread and comforting, but she blamed the whole feeling of comfort on her sparkling tendencies and the bond.
Shaking her head, Sam marshaled up her strength and tugged the mask away from her mouth. She didn't have the energy to toss it away from her and so settled for letting it drop beside her head where her hand refused to move afterwards. Instantly the mask was picked up with the surgical-sized tools peeking out from that digit and maneuvered back over her lower face even when she tried to move her head out of the way.
"You will keep this on. It will regulate your breathing which became irregular shortly after your surgery." The mask suctioned to her cheeks as soon as it was applied to her face.
"Don't want it." She argued, now too tired to do anything about it physically.
"It does not matter. The Autobots were too lax with your care. We will not tolerate you weakening yourself." His servo was removed from her person once he was certain the mask would not be moved again.
"Why am I here?" She asked, her eyes glaring at the mech in front of her. She appraised him openly as he pulled up a small datapad and began to log some info into it. "Why aren't I with the Autobots?"
"The Autobots know your location. The implantation on your leg and the tracker in your glute ensured as much. There is a cease-fire between our factions and an end to our war is upon us, but while you reside in our care we are keeping the others at bay. You shall heal first before being returned to this new world of ours." She felt a scan much like Ratchet's tingle over her body and she shivered delicately. Flatline moved quickly towards a table and pulled a plush comforter from the drawer beneath it. In a single, swift movement he had it draped over her body on the berth she was lying on. She assumed that there was a mattress of sorts under her since she felt like she was lying on a cloud instead of hard metal.
"You are here because I desired you here." Another voice rumbled just behind her. Her stomach dropped down to her toes at the gravelly voice. She'd heard this voice so recently…
"Megatron." She whimpered, trying and failing to hide into the false safety of her blanket. Even an adrenalin kick wouldn't give her enough of a boost to get up. She wouldn't be able to run or fight. She was helpless.
"You are causing her undue stress, Lord Megatron," the medic, Flatline, scolded the far larger Decepticon. Sam refused to look at either of them.
"She will come to see that she has no need to fear my wrath. She should have known as much already." The silver titan assured his officer. She heard him move, felt the slight tremor in the ground through the berth she lay on as he approached. It was silent after that, only her harsh breathing through the mask providing background noise to this horrid situation.
She glared as best she could at him as he towered over her prone body. The thought idly passed through her head to flip him the bird – simply for scientific reasons. She was halfway curious to know how much he or any of the other Decepticons knew about human mannerisms. Some of them had been on Earth far longer than she'd been born so she assumed that they would have assimilated to the populace as much as physically possible. The one she'd killed with the grenade knew what the gesture meant in raising a middle finger in another person's direction meant and he, as far as she could tell, hadn't resided on Earth very long at all.
Better not, she dismissed herself immediately. I pissed him off earlier. No need to go poking a stick at the sleeping bear.
Megatron chuckled almost fondly. "That fire of yours never dies away, does it, Pet?" Ire spiked in her chest and gut to hear the 'endearment'. She wished she could lash out and grind her fist into those eerily glowing optics of his.
A startled gasp was forced from her lips, though, when his servo lifted over the edge of the berth before settling over her swaddled form. The bond that she'd forced away back in Chicago when she'd been cradled so gently in his servos blossomed. Again, his bond was alight before he touched her, but with her mind moving as sluggishly as it was it was difficult to gauge who was who or what feeling came from what mech. A satisfied whorl slipped from his vocal processors as he connected so intimately with her.
"Such a good sparkling," he purred down to her, the 'pad' of his clawed thumb rubbing up into the side of her face in a lovingly tender stroke.
"I hate you," she hissed, her eyes clamped firmly shut. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't dare to.
"You do not. I can feel many things coming from you, Pet, but hatred is not one of them. Anger, though. You are enraged with me, of that I am sure!" He sounded happy about it. In fact, she could feel the mirth bubbling in him. He enjoyed her attitude.
Suddenly she felt his attention shift. The claw fondling her face ceased to move, though he didn't take his servo off of her. It acted like a second blanket, albeit a hard one. The heat that radiated through them naturally seeped down through the comforter and she unwillingly found herself growing tired. A sense of comfort was threatening to overtake her now that she'd acknowledged the bonds with these two Cybertronians.
She was helpless to stop any of this.
"How many are functioning enough to make contact?" Megatron's deeply gravel voice sent a shudder wracking down her spine. As soon as the chill came, though, it was vanished on the waves of calm being sent to her by the two behemoths standing above her. Elsewhere, too, she felt the answering calls of each of her mechs and femmes. For every switch of her mood, there was a reply. If she felt even a hint of sadness she was swaddled in a tidal wave of support and care that would be impossible to stand against. She was caught in the proverbial undertow of it. "I trust she will be compliant enough to accept them."
"She will be." Flatline glanced down at her, his optics dimming just enough for her to know that he was not overly thoughtful or worried at the moment. She felt that nearly all of his focus was on her. "Now that the immediate danger of the ruptured appendix has passed we must only watch for possible infection. The mechs should be made aware that they are to cleanse their forms completely before entering my medbay. I will not have her catching an airborne illness or one from direct contact. Those Autobots were far too lax in their care of her."
"She is right here!" She snapped in irritation. Was this some sort of commonality all of the Cybertronians shared? The Autobots often talked over her like she didn't exist within the same Solar System, let alone the same room!
"Hush, sparkling." Megatron practically purred down at her. She scowled fiercely at him as if that alone would be enough to make him cower in fear of her. Delight suffused their bond. He very much enjoyed her spitting fire.
"No!" She barked as loudly as she could, fidgeting under the blanket draped over her. Both of them had the nerve to inwardly grin at her, their faceplates unable to express the emotion outwardly. Despite being in the presence of known murderers, Samantha mustered up all the strength she possessed to flip Megatron off. Amusement danced across the bond at the action. Either he didn't know what it meant – which was highly unlikely – or he was tickled by her blatant disregard of his position.
"Don't tell me to hush you fucking bastard." Her breathing was becoming ragged under the mask that was supposed to be helping her breathe.
"Language, little one." He mocked her now, but she felt no malice in it as she had in the past. The Fallen no longer controlled him. He wasn't the evil entity that he had been for so many vorns, not the tyrannical leader that she had been introduced to, but he was a righteous bastard as far as she was concerned. "What is that human punishment? Ah, yes, perhaps I should wash your mouth out with soap."
"Say that again and I'll shock you so hard you'll look like Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree." It wasn't a threat at that point. She meant it with every fiber of her being. As soon as she was feeling better she was going to shoot enough Allspark energy into the 'Con leader to give him his first and only afro.
His optics shuttered, obviously referencing what she had just said. She was distracted from him, however, by Flatline moving one of his servos closer to her. He had that damned injector again.
"Want me to tell you where you can stick that?" She sneered at the encroaching tool. "Here's a hint…the Sun don't shine there."
"You are quite humorous," he told her without a hint of hilarity. Megratron removed his own servo from her body at the medic's approach, their understanding of each other's needs easily transferred via their private Comm lines. He held the injector aloft, not quite touching her with it. The glint of light that reflected off of the side of the liquid-filled tube was laughing at her. It was an inanimate object and entirely controlled by the mech wielding it, but in that single moment it was alive.
"You need to recharge. I will aid you."
"Jerks." She muttered as he pumped her full of sedatives. Her eyelids drew down and settled tightly closed after only a two-second count.
When she woke again, Samantha was feeling much better.
She rolled her head so that her cheek was cradled by the richly soft and plush pillow. A cursory glance around the room showed her that she had been moved at some point. She was in a new place, one that was oddly beautiful despite its alienness.
The room was cavernous. She was laying on a platform in the center of the room. There were steps on four sides, sinuous in shape and form. The steps led roughly ten feet down into a hundred-foot diameter – give or take a few feet – divot. Yet more steps, these ones larger by far, pulled upwards from the depression to an 'upper' level roughly twenty-feet higher than where she currently lay. The steps from her platform morphed into bridges made from phosphorous aquamarine-hued veins imbedded into gunmetal which weaved over a glowing lavender pool. The lavender liquid was odorless, but gave off a fair amount of heat…enough that she could feel it where she lay. The gunmetal pathways arched faintly like bridges over 'water'.
From the ceiling, which was higher up than any she had ever encountered before, crystals of the same shade of purple as the pool, 'dripped' downward. They were fused together into sparkling chains, several dozen clustering together to mimic an archaic chandelier of sorts while others hung loosely after a singular point of connection. The entire ceiling was alight with the crystals as they spiraled along its domed canopy and met in the exact center. From there the chains poured down and caught droopily on a circular metal frame fifteen feet above her platform. The ends of the chains splayed out all around her, a veritable curtain of pearlescent beauty. The crystals themselves were no larger than the tips of her pinky fingers and when she reached out to the nearest one they tinkled like soft windchimes caught in a summer breeze.
"You are awake. That is good." Peering through the curtain of crystals she could see the Trine, her Chevaliers, stepping forward to the edge of the higher level. They kneeled as one, their red optics intently focused on her. "You are healing well, Sparkling. You draw much strength from this sacred place."
"Where is here?" She wondered out loud, pushing off the silky blanket that had been dutifully tucked around her. She was wearing only a white top around her chest reminiscent of a sports bra and a glance at the juncture of her legs beneath the blanket showed equally pristine boy shorts of the same non-restrictive material. There was a mesh patch over her side, a clear string that adhered to her skin around and over the incision site. It was another medical marvel Ratchet had created in the process of engineering the Honeycomb casts and bulb-tipped injectors. She wondered again where the Decepticons came across the inventions.
"The Temple of Simphur," Thundercracker spoke from slightly behind her. The three were evenly spaced from each other, their positions signaling visually that they were in a sentry-formation.
The name meant something to her. The Allspark, when it had first come into existence, had originated in what was presumed to be Simphur – though it had no name at the time. As the ancient archives stated, the Thirteen Primes had erected the temple around the Allspark as a way to both safeguard it and to give unbiased access to it for the Cybertronian race. A city had risen around the temple in the many vorns after its creation, the temple becoming sacred to the alien race.
The Allspark itself informed her that the crystals and liquid pool were in actuality pure Energon. The chamber she lay in had not, at one point in time, looked the way it did presently. The cavern was so immense so as to hold the behemoth that the Allspark had once been. The 'pool' around her had been filled to the top, the platform she lay on an anchoring point for the Cube. The crystals and pool glowed due to the Allspark's intrinsic power radiating outward and in turn the raw Energon boosted the Cube's reserves. If memory served, a memory siphoned from other mechs and femmes whom had come to Simphur before the War began, the crystals had always hung like a protective cloak around the mass that was the Allspark, but their pattern had changed with her new stature.
"Cybertron and the Allspark are tied together," Skywarp spoke, seeming to understand where her thought processes were at that moment. "When Cybertron reshaped itself around your Earth it altered itself drastically. It is apparent that Simphur transformed itself to better suit the requirements of the Allspark's new shape. You."
She supposed that being in this place, the home of the Allspark, had aided in her healing. She felt discomfort when she attempted to sit up, but it was nowhere near the level of pain she'd felt beforehand. The heat emanating from the pool surrounding her was a balm. Even the softly glowing crystals pulsed at her and sent her skin to tingling pleasantly.
The sound of tiny wheels whirring and dainty metal peds clanking against yet more metal had a smile rising to her lips. A happy chuckle bubbled forth as Starscream verbally groaned at the two drones' exuberance as they bounded past him, over the high rise and into her wallow. The two ran with all haste towards her, fumbling up the smaller set of steps like two little kids attempting to beat each other to the cookie jar.
"Sam!" They both cheered, bounding into her with their little metal frames. She narrowly managed to pull the blanket back up and in their direct path or else she might have suffered superficial scrapes to her skin for their jagged exoplates. They were obscenely cautious of her still mending side as they hugged her in a human fashion. Their helms nuzzled her in affection.
"Hi guys. Howya been?" The two reeled away from her, their red optics suddenly stern. Or rather their emotions were stern. Even Wheelie's relatively expressive face wouldn't have been able to portray the glower he was giving her internally.
"A ruptured appendix?!" Wheelie shouted at her angrily. He waved a digit at her in much the same way as her mother did to her when she was naughty as a little girl. "You suffered a ruptured appendix and you have the nerve to ask after us!"
"You's been stupid, Sam," Brains muttered in his humming, smoke-chain way. His arms crossed even as he shook his head sagely. "Coulda had Hatchet check ya, been done wit' it. But no. Said ya had a stomach bug. Stupid."
"Hey!" She rapped him firmly between his optics with a knuckle, indignation blooming in her gut before soothing calm was bathed over her. She sighed deeply. It would get old real quick if she couldn't figure out a way to either suppress the backlash of the others' instinctive need to serve and sooth or to rebuild her own walls so that they felt only what she wanted them to feel from her. "I am not stupid."
"You are a tenacious Sparkling," Starscream intoned from above, his helm canted off to the side. Delight rang in his Spark for her and his joy at being in her service. "Often the young ones of either of our species pay little heed to the signs their bodies tell them. You should have rested and received treatment had you merely suffered from an Earth virus, but you are fiercely independent."
"She is stubborn," Skywarp smirked from the other side of the platform. There was a wealth of kindness and admiration in that statement when there should have been censor.
"All the more reason to keep a watchful eye on her," Thundercracker practically eye-rolled at his Trine-mates and she felt a placating pat to her smarting ego.
"Enough." She gave them all a baleful look before turning her attention back to the two little ex-'Cons. She fought the urge to hug them, but couldn't resist placing a kiss – no more than a peck – to the ridges that would have been their brows on a human. The two preened at the show of affection. "I missed you guys. How did you get here? I mean, how are you here? Flatline said something about a ceasefire, I think, but aren't I still under Decepticon watch?"
"The Temple of Simphur is a sacred place, Sam." Wheelie patted the back of her hand. "It is also neutral ground, especially when the Allspark is present. A sanctuary for All. There are others outside, but your – Chevaliers – are keeping them out."
"Why?"
"They will show you respect," Starscream stated firmly, his optics brightening for a moment with climaxing emotion. "Your pace shall determine theirs. You will not be accosted by any, my Allspark."
Well, I'm over all the genuflecting already, she thought morosely.
She felt like she'd been placed on an altar. When she thought about it more, looked around herself again, she was certain of it. She was sequestered inside of an ancient Cybertronian temple, wherever in the Hell that resided now, with a contingent of guards posted around her. She hadn't needed Wheelie to tell her that there were others outside of the grand room she lay in. She had felt them. There were a few that she had been familiar with in these past years, her Autobots, and even them she felt traces of worshipful praise from. The newcomers, for lack of anything else to call them, knew no other recourse. They didn't know her as the person she was. They only knew her as the Allspark.
That was going to change right quick.
Sam noted idly as she moved to get up that the platform she lay on was sunken in and filled with a foamy material. It was almost like a mattress tucked down between four walls. It was exactly the right density for her comfort and that was a bit startling.
Three holoforms fizzled into existence around her. Black-haired, over six-feet tall, with finely honed muscles. They were triplets as far as she could see and wore matching bomber jackets with Cybertronian glyphs stitched into the right sleeves. Despite looking like mirror images of each other she could immediately tell which mechs were which. A knack of being, essentially, connected soul-to-soul with each of them.
"Allow us to help you," Skywarp urged her softly, kneeling so that she could swing one of her arms up over his wide shoulders while his opposite one wrapped around her waist. Her knees were weak when he eased her into an upright position.
The two miniatures near to her feet fretted as Skywarp walked her slowly up and out of her wallow. She felt chilled without the heat of the raw Energon bracketing her on all sides. In point of fact, she felt herself waning the farther she drew from it.
"The strength you draw from this place is why you were brought here. It sped your recovery to a great degree." Starscream held her free hand in support as she climbed up over the higher steps to where his true body still kneeled. She wouldn't lie and say that she wasn't shaking from the effort it took to move, but it also felt good in a way. She'd been prone for too long. He muscles felt half stuck in an atrophying state.
"How long have I been here? No, how long since Chicago?" She took a moment to gather herself once she'd reached flat ground. Her legs trembled for several moments as she bolstered herself. Slowly so as to not unbalance herself, Sam pulled her arm away from Skywarp. He allowed her, but their keen eyes and optics trailed her determinedly. "What's happened since then?"
"It has been five days," Thundercracker intoned. Her stomach dropped.
"Five days?" She squeaked. She'd been out for five days. What had happened in that time? Who had stepped up to try and mediate for the Cybertronians while she was incapacitated? The fallout of what had happened in Chicago and the unavoidable fact that another planet, one that had been home to the alien machines that attacked said human city, now wrapped itself around Earth was bound to be tremendous. Arbitration couldn't wait on the back burners while she recovered.
She was mindless to most else after that.
Samantha strode shakily towards the doorway of the chamber, not really seeing the splendor of this upper level as she went. She would have time, she was sure, after this sorted affair was dealt with. She had no idea what she was walking into, but she was still needed. Of that she had no doubt.
"Stubborn," Skywarp repeated, just as pleased as he had been earlier.
"Sammi, wait up!" Wheelie shouted after her. Brains hop-skipped beside her, his pointed gaze not leaving her face. He was gauging her. Monitoring her.
"Too much to do," she muttered, entering a long hallway.
The Temple of Simphur was enormous. Raw Energon crystals were imbedded into the walls all around her, lighting as she approached and dimming again as she passed. The temple was sized for even mechs of Astrotrain's size to comfortably move about. It should have been a maze to her, but she could have walked the halls blindfolded. She felt as though she'd been there before…lived behind these walls. In another life, as the Allspark, she supposed she had.
The outer chambers were just as lavishly designed and built as the main room in which she awoke. There were mechs and a scant couple of femmes here, most of them familiar. Autobot faces. One peeled himself away from the rest, his yellow plating blurring as he rushed her.
"Oh, Sam!" Bumblebee crashed to his knees before her, his helm lowering so far that she could press her forehead against his. Her hands gripped the circular cap of his oral cavity and squeezed. She brushed her cooling forehead slowly back and forth across his. The light from his optics glinted off of her skin strongly.
Brows puckering, she squinted at the glow. She released one side of his oral cap to turn her arm over from one side to the other. She wasn't imagining things. Her skin was slightly golden now, flecked with something akin to metallic pixie dust. It didn't move when her arm did. It didn't disperse when she puffed a breath of air over her bared shoulder. Irritation spiked.
"What the hell happened to my skin!" She looked at the few assembled accusingly. It wasn't likely that they had done this – whatever it was – to her, but she wanted somebody to blame! She was under duress and couldn't be faulted for her snarky attitude. She hoped not, anyway.
"It is epidermal scaling." She peered around and over 'Bee's shoulder to see the two medics, Autobot and Decepticon, standing side by side. They had been in conversation with each other with the Autobot scout when she'd first entered the room. It was Ratchet that spoke. "Cybertron and the Allspark feed off of each other. This temple is as pure as it was on the day of the Allspark's creation and the power you wield is amplified by the raw energy. With the boost of energy your nanites have been able to accelerate the mutation of your human body."
"Mutation," she muttered, not liking that word and liking its implications even less. She flicked her hand negligently, almost mesmerized by the play of light against her glittering skin.
Flatline picked up the baton where his 'colleague' had left off. She was surprised that she wasn't more surprised over their smooth cooperation with each other. It couldn't be called comradery by any means, there was no love lost between them she could feel through the bonds, but they were acting with total civility.
"Your human body has advanced and improved since your imbuement with the Allspark, yes? Ratchet has sent me a highly detailed datapac with all of your medical information." The 'Con was silent for only a moment before continuing. "This alteration would have occurred within the next thirty years or so, by the human clock, but the amplification of your powers has allowed for quicker modifications. There is less strain on your nanites to balance priorities."
She was listening to them, she really was, but the shimmer fascinated her. Flip. Sparkle. Flip. Glimmer. She poked at the skin, feeling the difference immediately. She was still soft, but the fine hairs she'd once had were absent and the skin had less elasticity when she pulled at it. A quick peak at her legs revealed an equal absence of hair and similar textures.
A giddy thought chirped in her mind that she probably never had to shave again. The smile that came with that thought died a swift death as another thought occurred to her and she fully released Bumblebee to reach for her scalp.
A sigh of relief poured from her lips as she felt her hair, still there and deftly plaited, running from the front of her head to the back and trailing from the braid down to her knees. It, too, felt a bit different. Not exactly coarse, but certainly more rigid. It should have pulled more at her scalp than it normally did when she hefted the tail of her braid and found it substantially weightier, but that wasn't the case. In truth, despite the extra weight, her head felt lighter. She hadn't felt the relief of not having the braid or excess length since before the Cybertronians arrived on Earth!
Her open mouth and wide eyes had the nearby behemoths chuckling good naturedly at her.
"It is the scaling. It hardens your exterior form." Ratchet was smiling at her gently through their bond, pleasure at seeing her soaring up and down his normally gruff countenance. "The hair of your head also thickened from the scaling, but the fusion at the follicle would have been reinforced and enabled you to feel less of its weight."
"It's not metal." It was a statement, not a question. The metallic glint notwithstanding, her skin was still skin…just more.
"No, it is not." Ratchet conceded easily. He meandered towards her, running an unobtrusive scan over her scantily clothed form. She didn't flinch from it nor chide him for doing it without asking. "It is a predominately biological growth; a hardened skin cell, if you will. I would wager Ironhide all of my highgrade that you could submerge your skin in boiling water with little to no ill effects."
"I highly discourage such reckless behavior," Flatline intoned upon feeling her spark of curiosity and seeing the mischief that crept up into her eyes. He fixed her with a paternal glare. "You will not like the repercussions for your actions if you disobey me in this."
"No boiling baths," she agreed readily. She had other ideas of how she wanted to test out her new skin once she had enough time to do so.
Shaking off the wonder of her new skin – what else of her was going to change? – Sam strode around the mechs and out through the grand doorway. Unlike most of the portals through rooms that the Cybertronian ships and bases sported, Simphur boasted a set of marble-esque panels that swung outward in the same way a traditional human door would. They were etched with runes, the language of the Primes, and studded with yet more raw Energon crystals.
"Is it because the temple is sacred that you never used the Energon here? Would it have been considered desecration?" She found herself asking, not questioning how the eighty-foot tall doors appeared to open for her of their own accord. Her finger trailed one of the crystals, enjoying the heat it radiated into her skin and delighted by the sudden glow it displayed.
"To bring ill-will to this temple is blasphemous," Ratchet informed her sullenly, he and the other medic trailing behind her. She could feel their focus lasered onto her. She didn't dare sneeze for fear of being bundled up and carried back into the central chamber to rest. She was done resting. "Beyond that, this Energon is not just raw. It is pure. Pure Energon may only be utilized with the Allspark's power due to its more complex makeup and the necessity of high-influxes of energy to mold it."
"I was Sparked here," Bumblebee told her brightly, his pretty blue optics shining gaily when she peered at him over her shoulder. "Between the will of Primus and the Allspark, a Spark can be infused within the frame of a provided mech or femme. In the glory days of Cybertron, protoforms were borne before the Allspark and, if it was His will, a Spark would enter into that frame. The pure Energon you see acts as both a conduit and a power source for newly Sparked Cybertronians."
"Not all were so fortunate," a new voice arose from the outside. Sam startled, eyeing the twosome warily. She shouldn't have. As clearly as she could feel Soundwave, Shockwave too now clutched at their bond with equal parts desperation and elation. The two mechs stood proudly together, glorying in her scrutiny of them. When she touched their lines tentatively, they lashed out with wicked accuracy and enfolded her into their souls. They were manic in their praise of her.
Shockwave's singular crimson optic scowled at those others around and behind her. He was not a mech that shared kindly. He knew the bonds she held with them all for what they were, but he did not enjoy having to jockey for her attentions and affections. Not that there was anything to worry about on that front. For as many of them as there was, she held each of them separately, but equally to each other. She did not deny one for the sake of another. She couldn't. Hundreds of thousands of souls, of Sparks, and she could discern them all with the ease of breathing. It should have frightened her that she could do so, but she'd had years to become acclimated to the idea of becoming the Allspark and all that that implied.
"Soundwave and Shockwave were unlawfully Sparked by their creators. When a Spark was not granted to their offered protoforms, their Creators mechanically withdrew Allspark power from the Cube and Primus was left with little option but to provide the Spark. Without a Spark, a powered protoform is nothing except a base, insentient machine that acts on the original directive of our race." Flatline shook his head slowly and sadly. "What was done to them is considered one of the most heinous crimes committable by a Cybertronian."
She'd known as much. Their memories were her own. She knew how warped their processors were and what pains they suffered for their ill-timed Sparking. In the depths of her heart she knew she would do everything she could to ease their suffering. It would take work and time, possibly years of time, but she thought she had a chance of improving their lots in life.
Sam knew she could do nothing then and there and so, instead, moved to the jagged edge that was the floating Temple of Simphur.
Her eyes goggled.
Simphur was high above the Earth. A rough estimate would have the temple hovering at least forty-thousand feet over the ground. The approximation was vague, based only on her experiences from flying across the Earth and how the terrain, if it was familiar, appeared. The land beneath the temple was familiar. They were over Belle Fourche, South Dakota. The Devil's Tower was a notable geographic feature even so high in the air.
Around the temple orbited true warships. The Cruisers that had plagued Chicago were nothing but children's toys in comparison to the heavily armed flotillas that coasted menacingly around the vast building. There were perhaps two dozen soldiers upon each ship and a quick count told her that there were twelve of the mighty beasts guarding the floating island. Prodding the lines and even tugging with curiosity she found that there was a mixture of each faction aboard the ships.
There was rivalry, yes, but the threat of genocide was gone. In its place stood a singular army of warriors pledged to serving a greater good.
Her.
Not wishing to ponder that thought too closely, she marveled at the transformation of her world and the space around it. Cybertron still shifted its mass over the planet's surface, but certain additions were now affixed. More buildings and cities floated further out from Simphur. Unlike Simphur, however, the others appeared derelict and in need of an imbuement of life. Higher in the atmosphere and beyond were the honeycombed shields. The sun's light blazed through the shifting bars of the shield, caressing the land beneath otherwise unhindered. Further along the horison, almost to the point that she could not see it, swung a mighty bridge. It rose nearly twice as far into the sky as where they hovered, touching from one horizon to the other. The supporting columns of the monolith were miles wide.
"It looks like one of Saturn's rings," she awed, stepping so far forward that the mechanoids behind her tensed. Her bare toes hung over the edge. She paid their paranoia no mind, wishing in the sanctity of her own mind to touch the ring that had been made to circle Earth. It was the same purple as the pure Energon crystals and each of its arches ornately fashioned to resemble two-dimensional tree branches.
"Sweetspark," Bumblebee murmured right beside her. His holoform's arms loosely wrapped around her middle and urged her back away from the perilous edge. "Sam, please, let's get you back inside."
Inside? She didn't want to go inside. She couldn't go inside. For a brief moment she wondered why she felt so strongly that she couldn't go back to that comfy altar/bed or even remain to marvel at the splendor of their new world. Then reality hit her like an anvil tossed at her sometimes thick head. She was Wile E. Coyote duped by the ingenious roadrunner.
She'd been asleep for five days. The Earth had a new set of residences to deal with as well as a planetwide makeover courtesy of Cybertron. Not to mention the annihilation of Chicago under Vector Prime's disillusioned peds.
"Shit. Who's in charge right now?" She moved hastily out of 'Bee's comforting embrace. She was becoming slightly frantic. "Please tell me that someone from N.E.S.T. has been helping to mediate this. Where do we stand? What are the humans doing? Are there any rebellions arising? What of the Cybertronians? The War…"
"Easy, Sam," Ratchet chided her. "Do not stress yourself."
Flatline actually snickered, the sound caught somewhere between hydraulics hissing and a muffler popping. She glared haughtily at him.
"Don't tell me what to do and don't laugh at me. This is your future I'm worried about. Our future!" She whirled on them harsh enough to cause her side to rebel, the healing incision stretching painfully enough under the patch to make her cy out. She set her hand over the patch and hunched over protectively. Her back rejected that move, too, thanks to the rib fracture.
She didn't notice the abrupt glow of the Energon crystals all around her, but through tearful eyes she could see the warships whirl in midair so that the bulk of their cannons faced outward, the aft-sides tucking in close to the temple.
Overkill, she sneered in her head, tipping her hand back enough to see that at least the medical patch had held. She wasn't bleeding.
Five Decepticons and one Autobot engaged their holoforms, all big bodies huddling closely beside her and attempting to ease her burden. The two ex-'Con drones raised their spindly arms from beneath her as though to catch her if she fell. Calm filled her to brimming from the bonds. The only two to remain stone-faced were the medics. They shared a speaking look between themselves before venting heavily.
"Let us gather supplies for travel." Ratchet was shaking his helm and marching back off into the building. "She must be prepared and secured before we depart. She will not calm until her questions are answered and her fears waylaid."
"Lord Megatron will not approve of this." Flatline reached down and scooped her up from the middle of the protective holomorphic circle that had formed around her. She was tucked up into his chassis firmly and she hummed gladly at his offered warmth. Her fingers dug into the divots and grooves of his chest plating.
"Optimus Prime will be no less displeased." Ratchet turned back his face enough to look upon her held so securely and contentedly by his fellow medic. Softness seeped into his countenance. For as standoffish as he tended to be, his bedside manner leaving much to be desired by those he tended to so diligently, he was as fallible as any other in regards to her. Her frailty and dependence triggered a base reaction from him…unwavering devotion and love.
"But She is what matters most," he stated with utter calm. "Her will supersedes all."
…She really had to figure out a way to dispel the worshipful adoration before they killed her with it.
Starscream stood to her back with his Trine flanking him.
The blonde had taken a seat offered almost immediately upon her arrival to the city. It wasn't plush nor attractive, but the foldable steel chair offered her respite. The flight into Chicago had been a rapid affair with little fuss. After having her dress in a pair of well-worn jeans and a loose t-shirt, all personal effects of hers that they must have stored in subspace at some point in time, she'd been bundled up quite literally inside of silken blanket and tucked safely into the Wing Commander's cockpit.
She wasn't too proud to admit that she'd napped the entire way.
Upon arrival she had been amazed by amount of effort being put in by human and autonomous-robot alike to raise the city back onto its feet. In the time since her incapacitation, the bulk of the rubble and dangerously tilted buildings had been stripped. Towering, powerhouses of Cybertronian machinery speckled the streets, erecting clearly superior frameworks for the thousands of humans that had come in to help from across the country. No, the world had pooled together in this desperate hour of need.
As far as any human was concerned, and she would fight tooth and nail to see it so, Chicago would be the last innocent to fall prey to a War brought to Earth from the heavens above.
Somehow, someway, the two races were working together. The Cybertronians were eerily silent, but they diligently applied themselves to repairing the metropolis they'd so recently torn asunder. Most were the lower-ranked Decepticons, as the rival faction boasted more numbers than the Autobot side, but there were Autobots of all stations as well. She had known simply by being the Allspark that there were many, many more of the titanic race than she had met before, but it was a shock to her systems to see so many.
While the human population was staggering, an eye-boggling seven-billion-plus, the Cybertronians were not so limited themselves. There were millions of them even after hundreds of thousands of years of War. Many had taken refuge on nearby planetoids to Cybertron and waged their battles as close to 'home' as they dared. When Vector Prime had activated his pillars and began the process of pulling Cybertron into Earth's solar system, the withering planet had gathered up its people and pulled them along. One of the workers, a femme by the name of Jumpstart, had come up to her in order to greet only to divulge how she'd been pulled through a vortex and deposited on the other side of the pillars' tear in the fabric of time and space.
The Other had something to do with that. She couldn't say for certain how she knew, but she did. That backwards-talking whatever he was had his meddlesome fingers in everything. She had her suspicions on exactly who he was, but she'd yet to have her theories proven.
Jumpstart hadn't been the only being to approach her and her vigilant sentinel of Seekers, either. There had been humans aplenty eager to shake her hand. There were a multitude of women who, for some reason beyond her, idolized her for what she stood for. There were hundreds of people who had been following the trail of breadcrumbs left for years leading to the outing of intelligent alien life on Earth. Many of those people had come to Chicago to see with their own eyes that it was true, but also to help. There were military outfits that had been previously aware of the Cybertronians as well as cyber-sleuths lining up to shake her hand.
Beyond the humans there were the Cybertronians themselves. They had known of her coming since her grand decision to leave Simphur and Starscream's abrupt open-comm pronouncement. When she reached the city limits there'd been a further contingent of guards stationed a respectable, yet protective distance from her. The humans didn't know it due to their deliberate distancing from her, but that was for the better. Homosapiens were not well known for keeping a level head when faced with the threat, even an aloof one, of violence.
The Trine were tensed to the point she thought one good rap on their frames and they'd shatter from the forced strain.
She offered help where she could for the proceeding several hours even if it was handing out water and food in the meal lines set up for the workers. Beside those lines were the medical tents. One person or another was meandering through due to clumsy feet or fingers. Most of the wounds were superficial at best. Jolt himself was assisting the human medics, introducing some of the lesser-advanced healing techniques he and Ratchet had developed. It was yet another strategic move on their parts. Helping the humans not only rebuild, but also to mend their ills was easing their sudden transition from 'maybe existing' to 'you-have-got-to-be-shitting-me real'.
Jolt sternly told her off every time she made a move to do anything more than pass around some soup or apply ointment to a youngster's burned finger. The young mech could sound so much like Ratchet that her head had to turn to prove that it was actually not the sourpuss medic snapping at her. It didn't help matters that every time Jolt scolded her it was swiftly followed by an internal deluge of kicks in the ass via the bonds, demanding that she take it easy and listen for a change.
"Sam!" A familiar, oh so welcoming voice boomed from her right.
Sam squealed with delight at seeing the dark-haired, leanly muscled man striding purposely towards her. She darted around Starscream's peds when he made an abortive attempt to block the newcomer. Her side protested the quick movements and all out screeched at her when she stretched on tippy toes to hug one of her best friends in the entire world. He embraced her back almost as hard, his big hands gentled on her lower back.
"Mike!" She pecked his cheek, beaming up into a face that was no longer boyish, but still just as handsome. He was grinning at her with that crooked infectious smile of his. "What in the world are you doing here?"
"What do you think? I've come to help our friends." He set her back away from him so that he could take in the full state of her. Minus the blindness of her right eye with its white iris and pre-existing scar tissue, he would see nothing out of the ordinary. He still frowned at her with disapproval. "You can't stay out of trouble, can you?"
"Honey, you know Sam can no more behave herself than you can remember to keep the whites out of my damned coloreds bin!" That lilting voice had her shoving Mike off to the side so that she could embrace yet another person she had the honor of calling a true friend.
"Shelby!" Samantha tugged the smaller woman into her arms and rocked her back and forth enthusiastically. The brunette chortled, patting her back delicately. When she released her, Sam felt her jaw hang to see the noticeable bump on Missus Bane's stomach. The easy way in which she settled her hand over said roundness confirmed the motherly instinct was ever present in said woman. "Oh my God. I'm so happy for you two!"
She was back to hugging them both, passing sloppy kisses between their cheeks and cheering over the miracle soon to be bestowed upon them. The couple laughed with her. It was Shelby that halted her blathering. The smaller woman touched her cheek with fondness. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
"Sam, I know you haven't known me as long as Mike, but you truly are one of my best friends. You are a good, honest, and dependable person. I should have been jealous of you, but I never could be. You're just – you're too good to be true, honestly." She snickered then and took to a teasing tone. "Except for the company you keep. Really, you could stand to let someone else babysit the robot warriors from the far reaches of the galaxy for a change.
"But what I mean to say, or rather ask, is this…would you be willing to be the godmother to our baby? If we're so blessed, we'd love for you to be the godmother to all of our children. Would you do that for us? Could you? Oh, Sam, I just known they'll love you as much as we do."
That did it. For all of the nightmarish things that had happened in the past days, for all of the death and senseless loss, there was one glimmer of hope presented to her so prettily. The hope for a future and new life. A family of the human variety for her if she chose to accept it.
The blonde woman sobbed, a keening wail erupting from her chapped lips. She tugged Shelby back into her arms, almost hugging the life out of the poor woman. Tears feel freely as she glanced at a worried Mike over her shoulder.
"Of course," she choked out, rocking in search of her own comfort instead of in ill-contained gaiety. She was thrilled, certainly, but her heart thundered in her chest at this new responsibility she couldn't not take on. Here these two were offering her a human family to have and to hold, something she thought she would never have once her own parents left this life. It was a miracle within a miracle. "I would be honored. Oh, I'm going to be a godmother!"
"That comes with certain obligations, Sam." Mike shook a scolding finger at her. "No more of these suicide missions you seem so keen on. You need to be whole and healthy for our kids. Heaven knows they're gonna run me and Shelby ragged! They'll need their Auntie Sam to spoil them and teach them all the stuff we think is too inappropriate for them to learn. Plus, if my boys turn out anything like me, they'll need someone to bail them out of whatever pickle they get themselves into."
"I'm hoping for all girls," Shelby whispered in her ear, the mirth shining in her eyes telling the taller woman that it didn't matter to her in the slightest what gender their children were. She just wanted healthy, happy babies.
"We were going to tell you in a week or so. Shelby's due in another two months." Mike placed a hand onto her back between her shoulder blades, his blue eyes peering down at her seriously. "Then this shit happened with that big bastard, Vector Prime. We saw you break through on every channel and do some otherworldly stuff, Sam. Everyone did. Even knowing what I know it was still something to see."
"After Optimus and that other one, Megatron, ripped Vector Prime to pieces," Shelby picked up where her husband had let off, a sinister smile touching her normally sweet face, "it was completely crazy. Those three – " here she gestured towards the hovering Trine – "took off with you and no one knew what to do."
"That's where I came in."
Startled, Sam whirled to face the elder blonde woman approaching with her own, less formidable escort. She hissed at the stab of pain to her side and back and Jolt, who'd been diligently tending to a young man with a sprained ankle, jackknifed his attention to her. She felt a scan slip over her and shivered, but pushed him off internally. She was fine. She just moved too quickly.
:: You are on notice, Sparkling. :: He warned her firmly through the comm that didn't bother her as much as it had before the final confrontation with Vector Prime. :: Move slowly and do not overtax your body. You are still healing. ::
:: Aye aye, mother. :: She mocked him snidely and earned a darkened glare in return.
:: Enough sass, girl. ::
Charlotte Mearing hadn't switched out of her formal, business attire, though she was wise enough to wear a pair of pumas instead of pumps in the midst of all the rubble around them. She looked as tired as she'd ever seen her. Dark impressions hung beneath her carefully painted face. Even with a beautician at her beck and call, there wasn't a lot that could be done for the exhaustion physically showing upon her face.
She had an entourage of at least five security personnel. All human. One of them she suppressed an amused snicker for. It was the lead agent that had picked her up from the parlor. Agent K. He was wearing the same blacker than black suit and impenetrable sunglasses.
Behind them were several N.E.S.T. soldiers including Lennox and Epps. The mercenaries they'd come into Chicago with, minus the unfortunate Ames, were with them also. Off to Mearing's side, just in front of the disgruntled security detail, was Simmons in his powered wheelchair. Dutch followed his boss silently, his expression mild in comparison to the handicapped man rolling before him. Simmons wore an expression similar to that of the cat that caught the canary as he watched Mearing's ass sway in her pencil skirt.
She'd been right after all. The two had a thing for each other.
"You left one hell of a mess in your wake, Miss Witwicky," Mearing chided her with firmed lips. She assessed the three identical Cybertronians bracketing her with a sharp eye. She was shaking her head slowly. "I still don't know how this is going to work. I don't know how it even is working."
"Never thought I'd see the Decepticon insignia and not tear off in the other direction," Mike murmured from beside her, tucking his wife and she into his side protectively. Of course there wasn't much point in shielding her and by default anyone else in her immediate vicinity. There would be no breaking past the Seekers' defenses let alone the Cybertronians on stand-by around the city.
"There will be some understandable…difficulties between the two factions," Skywarp interjected from above them. He was looking towards where two mechs, one an orange-framed Autobot and the other a garish red Decepticon, were having a heated argument between themselves in their native language. The humans near to them took a step back, but other than cursing vulgarly at each other they did not resort to physical violence. They broke away from each other with a hiss each before moving in separate directions.
"In-fighting will be kept out of the human eye for the foreseeable future," Thundercracker supplied for his Trine-mate. "Animosity is high between ourselves as well as the humans for us. We will do what is necessary to ensure the treaty is upheld by limiting confrontation to a bare minimum."
"Treaty?" She asked, stepping forward so that she could rub her palms up against his shinplates. He radiated blessed warmth. She fell to the compulsion to rest her cheek against the smooth metal. She hummed even as Mike snorted at her cuddling of the 'enemy'.
"Optimus Prime and Megatron have gone to great lengths to establish a treaty between their factions," Mearing pushed herself back into the conversation, pulling out her phone to as she spoke to survey emails or text messages. Sam didn't know which nor did she care. "The two have been dickering between themselves for days now. The only certainty there seems to be between them is that a standstill will be enacted between themselves until which time the 'Allspark has ceased to be'." The elder woman leveled her with a deliberate scowl.
"They are still ironing out the details, but what it means for the human race is that, in a nut shell, we will be sharing a transfigured planet with another race of beings. They will not be transplanted now that their home world has fused with ours. It has been my job along with several others to come to agreeable terms on the upcoming interactions between our species. It is suggested that, should they wish it, the Cybertronians will predominantly occupy the satellite 'islands' and act as bodyguards for the Earth. In return we will allow environmentally safe harvesting of the Energon they need to survive as a race as well as agreeing to keep our bickering between ourselves to a minimum. Our own wars have had a negative impact upon the land and risks their fuel production."
"No shit," Mike snorted in derision. At the dark look the elder woman have him he sneered. "Don't give me any faces, woman. I don't do shit for you. I'm here for Sam and our friends. We're here to help rebuild."
"I expect you'll want a full report of what has happened?" Mearing asked her instead of rising to Mike's goading. Sam felt her brows rise into her hairline at the due respect clearly expressed in the other blonde's voice. "I am duty-bound to offer all information I have pertaining to the inauguration of the Cybertronian race with their Primanar."
"Primanar?" She parroted, looking up to her Chevaliers' glowing red optics. There was mirth in the bond. An ever-present sense of rightness being projected towards her. "What in the world is a Primanar?!"
"You are." Again she was whirling, her eyes snapping against the forms of the two behemoths approaching from a secluded area of the city. The spot where the Galileo Building had once stood was empty of its previous monument and replaced by an expanse of multi-colored metals and stones laid into the ground. Arching up from the intricately lain ground was an archway reminiscent of the ones spanning the planet in a never-ending ring. She could see through the arch itself now, but only moments before she'd felt the zap of electricity against her skin and caught the unmistakable scent of temporal-displacement, something much like ozone except richer.
They'd erected a short-range transpatial warp-drive in the center of Chicago.
Megatron, the one who'd spoken, stood shoulder to shoulder with Optimus Prime. Optimus was scarcely three feet shorter than the Decepticon warlord, but the sheer presence of him made him appear taller. The two were mix-matched bookends, but complimented each other in an odd sort of way. It was the regal bearing they both wore like a second skin, or rather exo, that made them so startlingly similar.
"What, pray tell, is a Primanar?" She crossed her arms and tapped her foot in irritation. Both snickered inwardly at her peaked temper. They found her endlessly adorable, no doubt. She lashed a bit of Allspark power out at them in retaliation, reigning it in almost as quickly as she did so. She was above acting like a petulant child.
Most of the time.
"Primanar is a very, very old term for one of royalty amongst the Cybertronian race, Samantha." She felt Optimus's genuine smile though his faceplates maintained cool indifference. "Its name has not been used since the existence of the Thirteen."
"The name was derived from Primus, our Deity." Megatron strode forward and the Trine allowed a few steps back to give the silvered titan room to kneel above her. He reached forward a clawed servo and one of its tips split much like they had in the Foundry of New Jersey. Grasped securely, yet with reverence between several pincer-like apparatuses was an intricate circlet of pure Energon crystals imbedded into Cybertronian metal.
He held the ornate headpiece aloft before settling it with worshipful pride onto her unmoving scalp. The center crystal hung low and pressed ever-so-lightly against her forehead. Chains of crystals to the rear of the circlet dipped into the crevices of her braid and felt, surprisingly, wedged there. She could only relate the feeling to a magnet meeting metal.
"There was a being before the Thirteen, the first of us, and that was the Primanar. It was the Primanar that ushered us, with the help of the Thirteen Primes, into sentience. When the being was called back to its incorporeal shape it handed down its legacy to the Primes. It was told, in the earliest times of our people, that the Primanar would return again once they were needed most." Megatron, too, was grinning at her. The slats of metal outlining his optics even had the impression of crinkling with delight as he allowed the circlet, the crown, the settle upon her. She was too speechless to move. "You are the Primanar we have waited countless lifetimes for."
Sam was aware of the quiet of the city around her. It was difficult to miss the overwhelming silence. Humans gawked with a mixture of both confusion and awe. Some were filming with their phones to post to the internet later. For their part, the Cybertronians had all fallen to their knees to prostrate themselves before her, their nasal ridges scraping the ground.
She turned slowly to face those she knew, the people of N.E.S.T. and other soldiers she'd come to call friends. Most of them, sluggish though it was, were either saluting or bowing to her. Beyond them were Mike and Shelby, both as shell-shocked as she and wearing their astonishment blatantly on their faces.
Her stomach churned again in a manner not too dissimilar from when her appendix had been failing.
She should have just stayed in bed; even if that bed was an alter that once bore the weight of the Allspark and all of Cybertron's future.
Yep. Shoulda just stayed in my damned bed.
Notes: I normally don't do this, but there is a story entitled 'Endings of Old and Beginnings New' by LittleBittyPretty1 that I think is one hell of a good read. I'd ask for others to check 'em out and see what you think. A breath of fresh air, truly.
