Forgive me, I failed. I got super distracted. We had a baby over for one day, I discovered I had a project due first day of the new term, and did the mad dash to do it (in unrelated news, Ms Teacher extended the date...).

That said, my main excuse? I was looking around on DeviantArt. There's a reason I avoid that website. I think I've saved *checks quickly* 500 pictures from all over, in the past week. Then I went all OCD and decided to sort them all into folders. Oh, the things I've seen... I could die happy now. And I finally discovered why human-formers is so popular.

Please tell me if there are any errors. My keyboard feels... weird, and I noticed I made a lot of strange mistakes, and I hope I fixed them all. Still...

Anyway, here's chapter 12. Short and sweet, but still Chapter 12.


Chapter 12: Adapting

Autobot Outpost Omega One; Arcee

Ratchet and Optimus were both standing at the main computer console. On the screen was a live feed of the mech they were currently talking to.

"I suppose it wasn't so bad. Next time, though, I'm not going to help the humans with the rookie. All he does is stare at me, and ask questions about my Wrecker days." Wheeljack groaned, rolling his optics.

"I take it that the humans have finished the construction of their base?" Optimus asked.

Wheeljack nodded his affirmative. "They've built the actual base. The furnishing part and all that is a little... difficult for the two of us to do, so they've dismissed us."

Ratchet instantly raised an optic ridge at that. "I highly doubt that the humans would send you back early. What did the two of you do?"

"I did nothing! I swear on the Allspark, it was the kid's doing, not me!"

Arcee instantly sighed, walking up to the monitor. It figured that one of them stuffed up something. It was what they did best, after all.

"Wheeljack," Optimus began. The Prime didn't need to go on; any member of the Autobot ranks knew exactly what that tone of voice meant: explain yourself, or trouble is coming.

"So I was minding my own business, hauling crates of this and that across the base. Smokescreen was relaxing with the humans, since it was his break and all. I don't know what possessed him to do it, the little fragger..."

"Wheeljack..."

Wheeljack immediately went back to the story. "So there I am, carrying about six of these crates, when the rookie comes up behind me and pushes me, pushes me!" Wheeljack paused for a moment, as if still astounded that someone had the nerve to do such a thing.

"Yeah, yeah, he did what we all wanted to do. What happened?" Arcee said, waving a hand dismissively. Three pairs of optics glared at her for a moment.

"I nearly lost my balance, but I managed to stop myself from falling over and crushing the crates. I put them down gently, and turned to see what the frag was going on with him..."

"Wheeljack, what exactly happened?" Ratchet asked, getting irritated with the entire story.

Irritated Ratchet beats recalling a story any day of the week. "He fell backwards, and landed on the crates. The human in charge, Admiral Fairborne or something like that, was pretty angry, since he apparently crushed some kind of fancy, expensive computer thingy. So he 'dismissed' us, and is sending us back."

Optimus held back a sigh of frustration. "Wheeljack, the point of us sending you to aid the humans was so that both you and Smokescreen could adjust with interaction with and around the humans..."

"And they're all alive. Some of them even gave me their 'phone numbers', and asked if I could come round some time and hang out. Mission accomplished." Wheeljack finished.

"Send me your coordinates; I'll open the Bridge for you," Ratchet said. He made it obvious he did not want the former Wrecker back at the base. That made Wheeljack's next statement all the more pleasing to the medic.

"Nah, we're good. Smokey here and I are going to do some cross country driving. We should be back at base in a few days at most."

"Understood," Optimus said. "Call if you are in need of any assistance."

"Will do, Prime. Wheeljack out."

Cybertron; Jack

Jack was still getting used to understanding every single word his mech said. It was... disconcerting. Instead of hearing mechanical whirls, clicks and snaps every time the mech opened his mouth, words poured out. Fluent, articulate words. Well, not quite. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still hear the familiar noises. But his mind was automatically translating them, and to him the words were as clear as English. It made it weird to be around his mech sometimes.

Except it wasn't his mech anymore. He knew his proper name now. Orion Pax, as in the Orion Pax, was his owner. The same Orion Pax that would become a Prime. The same one that would contest the unfair state of things on Cybertron. The Orion Pax that would defeat Unicron. Orion Pax, who would save Earth and countless other planets so many times Jack couldn't even begin to count.

The same Orion Pax who pat him on the head every time he picked Jack up, and stroked his back occasionally at work.

It was one thing for Jack to know he was a pet to a Cybertronian. He'd gotten used to that awhile ago. It helped that he was treated more like an equal than a pet. Orion knew he was sentient, if nothing else. But Jack was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was living with a future Prime.

"Micro, you seem to be distracted a lot lately."

That was the other weird part. Jack had tried to give Orion a name, before he knew the real one. But he hadn't considered that Orion would have named him. It made sense, but Jack was still a bit confused as to why he'd picked "Micro" of all names. He wasn't complaining; there were far worse names out there that he could think of, especially for pets. He'd be called the equivalent of 'shorty' a million times over half of those names.

He didn't even want to think of the blow to his ego if Orion started calling him "Fluffy".

Orion didn't wait for Jack to respond, instead placing a lump of clay-food next to him. Orion's kitchen counter had become his dining table, and Jack had long since gotten used to eating the mushy stuff. He didn't hesitate to grab a large piece of the clay, and began gnawing on it as he walked to the counter edge. Normally, Jack would sit on the counter and eat, but Orion normally didn't hover near him when he ate, either. The mech had been watching him intently for the past few days, ever since Alpha Trion had reunited the two of them.

A hand was lowered down to his height, and he quickly jumped on. The mech walked away from the counter, and Jack could faintly that Orion's free hand was fidgeting. Somehow, Jack suspected he wasn't the only one that had a lot on his mind. He was lowered down again, and he only realised he was on Orion's home computer station after he had jumped down. The mech sat down in his seat and began fiddling with it, the screen instantly flashing on.

"Something is going on out there, something big." Orion commented. The Cybertronian version of a search engine popped up on the screen, and the mech quickly typed in his query, working faster than Jack could read the words. "I somehow believe you are involved, but I cannot fathom how that is even remotely possible."

It was moments like these, when Orion was so close to the truth about Cybertron's future, that Jack really wished he could speak to the mech. He'd managed, albeit briefly, to speak Cybertronian to Alpha Trion, but since then the only words he spoke were English. And since there was no way he could write Cybertronian, communication was strictly one-way, with the one side completely unaware of the fact that he could understand him.

The page loaded, and Orion clicked on a button. A video started playing. Now that the symbols were staying on the screen, Jack could finally find out what his mech was looking up. His heart sank as he went on.

"Live at the Pits: Megatronus vs Challenger"

Megatron. Jack watched as the gladiator tore mech after mech apart, throwing their pieces across the arena. Energon covered the mech, but it only seemed to increase his lust for battle. The spectators cried out for more with each drop of Energon spilled. Even Orion seemed appalled by the sight of such gore. But it was what happened after the fight that shook him to the core.

"Children of Cybertron, are we not all equal? Are we not made of the same alloys and Energon as the first Primes? So why are we divided like this? We are forced apart, forced into a caste system that slowly corrodes us as a people!" The large gladiator called out. With each word, the roar of the crowds grew louder. Jack was briefly reminded that Megatron was a master at manipulating people. A natural talent, if the video was anything to go by.

"I intend to go to our Council, and force them to see our way! They will see the pain and destruction they are causing. They will see what power we have, even now, and they will see what power we could have if we were under a better rule!" The gladiator continued.

Orion turned to him, pausing the video. "The Council has been aware of this Megatronus' actions and words for quite a long time. Alpha Trion informed them personally. Yet they have done nothing to stop him, or calm him. I do not agree with his methods or actions, but his words are true. We need change. I believe that I am destined to do great things. At first, it was a desire to better our information network. Now, I think that I am destined to work with him, to change Cybertron."

With that said, he continued the video, acting as if he hadn't said anything to him at all. Jack didn't listen to the propaganda Megatron sprouted. He didn't hear the roars of the crowd for the change they needed. He didn't see more Energon get thrown across the arena.

All he saw was the beginning of the end. And Orion Pax was walking into the center of the storm.

Junk Planet; Raf

"Tell me if this is better," Wheeljack instructed. The mech was busy typing away busily on a small device in his hand.

"It's still blurry, but it's getting better." Raf instinctively stroked his hand (his flesh-and-blood hand) along the smooth glass visor that was running across his eyes. It was Wheeljack's solution to the broken glasses problem. Of course, they would only help him see again once Wheeljack finished the final calibrations.

Raf turned his attention to First Aid. The medic had made use of this time to tell him all about his recent upgrades. Raf had to admit he was interested in it all.

"As I said, your injuries were quite extensive. Your lower limbs were badly burnt, as was your left servo. I tried to repair what I could, but I am limited in organic medicine." There was a brief pause as First Aid silently apologised for not doing a better job. Raf shook off the apology, having long since forgiven the medic.

"I was forced to amputate all three of those limbs. Wheeljack had produced some prosthetics for you, using pieces of our own replacement limbs. We did extremely precise measurements, so you should feel no difference in height or size of any of your limbs."

Wheeljack interrupted, fiddling with the side of Raf's head, where the visor was resting on his ear.

"They're fairly complicated pieces of equipment, compared to the originals. I tried to make them as similar to our own as I could, while still keeping it at your scale. No easy feat, I might add."

First Aid scoffed. "Flatter yourself later, Wheeljack. Just finish off that visor." The medic leaned over Raf to punch the Wrecker on the head. Raf had been told by First Aid that it was the only way to get anything across to any of the Wreckers.

"We can go over the core statistics of your prosthetics later. I believe you expressed some concern over your vocal box?" Raf nodded, rubbing a hand over his throat. He traced over the transition from flesh to metal, unnerved by the feeling.

"It was not my idea. It was Springer's suggestion. He thought that it might be best if we could understand you. As it was, the burns to that area weren't healing. Eventually, I conceded, and Wheeljack and I developed a scaled-down vocal processor for your use."

Wheeljack laughed at that. "You make it sound like we did something difficult! All we did was scale down a piece of tech. We already had about a dozen of those things lying around in storage."

Raf couldn't help but ask, "Why would you need so many spares?"

First Aid sighed, clearly just as upset by the concept as he was. "It's a precaution. There was this scout back on Cybertron. Megatron literally ripped his vocal processor to pieces. You can't replace something like that. So the chief field medic there fashioned together a makeshift processor, so that the poor mech wasn't mute. Every medic these days has a supply of them, now, in case something similar happens again. Thankfully, I can say you are the first in thousands of your years to need one."

"Same thing with the visor, actually," Wheeljack commented. "There was this mech in Special Ops who had problems with his optics. No one knows the full story. Last I heard, he fought against a fire-breathing Predacon when he was a sparkling." Both mechs in the room laughed loudly at that one. "So he wears his custom visor to see anything. A medic keeps some handy if a mech has issues seeing."

Wheeljack stopped talking and fiddled with the side of his visor again. "How about now?"

Raf nodded, looking up and seeing the mech properly again. "Better than before, I think."

First Aid sighed in relief. "Thank Primus. I thought you'd never get that thing set up properly."

Wheeljack rolled his eyes, smiling at the obvious joke. "Well, if our medical care around here was better..."

"...Then I would have banned you from taking my supplies for your experiments a long time ago."

The two mechs laughed at the joke. Sitting in between them, Raf couldn't help but feel comfortable. He could definitely get used to this.

Autobot Outpost Omega One; Miko

Miko had found herself wandering the halls of the base a lot lately. The empty corridors comforted her in a way she didn't think the others understood. She knew for a fact that Bulkhead worried every time she asked if she could walk alone. But she couldn't handle all the noise in the base at times, and she just need to get away.

She'd spent four days back on Earth. That was four days of smelling the air and feeling the soil beneath her feet. Her home planet had a unique feel to it, and she wasn't going to mistake it for any other planet in the universe. Maybe it was just in her head, but she could constantly see all the differences between Earth and the Jungle Planet. That was half the problem.

Miko, according to some kind of fancy medical scan from the Hatchet, had spent about three months on that planet. For those three months, all she could hear was the rustling of leaves and creaking wood. For someone who was used to Slash Monkey, it had been pure torture. But she'd adapted to the silence. Now that she was back home, she had to get used to 'normal' noises of a busy world. She was almost tempted to take up Fowler on his offer for more time off school. Of course, that would mean admitting she needed help.

Miko was a Wrecker. She could suck it up.

That was half the reason she'd disappeared into the inner parts of the base, far from prying bots (and humans, once upon a time). She felt more and more like she was still in the middle of Jungle Planet. Instead of vines, though, she had her actual guitar. No plants grew out the walls, true, but if she looked at the cracks in the walls just right, she could almost see the trees again. And while she wasn't the best artist this side of the galaxy, she could still paint. Someone had to use up all the paint Bulkhead had found after the incident with the Synth-En formula.

She stopped outside one of the doors. This was her jungle now. An abandoned storage room had transformed from dust and cobwebs to her sanctuary. She stepped inside, glancing at the half finished wall-mural. She couldn't draw humans or bots very well, at least compared to her knack for landscapes. She could almost believe it was her jungle, with water dripping off the leaves from the last rain she'd seen there. A small, makeshift couch, made of old crates and scavenged cushions, looked at it head on, and her spare guitar amp was sitting right next to it

This was her safe haven. No one, no human and no bot, knew of her hiding spot.

A cloud of dust drifted down from the ceiling, gaining Miko's attention.

The room was still for a moment. Nothing moved, and Miko didn't dare breathe. Then the motion started. A sleek form, hidden in the shadows of the dark ceiling, darted from platform to platform. A large stack of crates in the corner shook a little as the form used them as a jumping board. With an elegant grace that came only from practice, the cat landed on all four paws. It walked up to her with the confidence of a predator; it knew she was no threat to him.

It stopped right in front of her, standing at full height. Miko might have felt intimidated by this show of power, if she wasn't used to it by now. This room was her only link to Jungle Planet. Everything in there brought her closer to the planet. The mural was nice, and the guitar helped her just like the vines had. But the robotic cat in front of her was the cornerstone of the room. It was her ultimate connection to three months of her life.

"Sweet entry, Ravage," she said, smiling. The cat purred, rubbing against her.

This room was her salvation, and no one, no human and no Autobot, knew about it.


So Wheeljack, Smokescreen, and Ravage are back on the scene. Sort of. Jack's starting to understand the implications of living with Orion Pax just before the war. Raf can see again. And Miko is still living with danger. How could things possibly get worse for our friends?

I do have an important note to say, believe it or not.

I can't make promises about the next update. I have my final exams in a month's time, and I'll be writing throughout the whole of November. So I'll be pretty busy studying. I'll probably update at least once in the next two months (latest beginning December), but I thought I should warn you. I want to pass, and I have a bazillion exams to study for. Including four science exams. So... yeah, study time is fun time.

But, on a much happier note:

WE REACHED 100 REVIEWS! *throws confetti over computer while dancing*

Chapter 11 pushed this story over the 100 mark (and the 110 mark, I'm counting). I'm thinking of doing something special, in honour of my first story getting 100 reviews. Any suggestions would be awesome, because reviewer no. 100 didn't respond to me when I asked. Otherwise, I'll probably think of something. It'll involve this story, so fingers crossed.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You made my week, and I am on a happy-high right now.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember to tell me what you thought, if you saw any errors or stuff. I'll hopefully edit some of the earlier chapters when I get time over the next two weeks. I had an awesome reviewer point out some big flaws in chapter one, so I'll be revising that. There won't be any major changes beyond spelling, grammar and apparently point-of-view boo-boos (I detect an English teacher in our midst...). Fingers crossed.

JayJayinMay, the happily badly-dancing student