Ignition

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Hot Rod was bored. The shuttle was on autopilot, and he was keeping one optic on the control panel. If there was room, he would've sat back and propped his feet up on on the console. Easy, boring flying for a top-notch pilot like himself, but there wasn't room. Red Alert sat beside him in the co-pilot's seat, data pad in one hand, stylus in the other, furiously taking down notes.

"What are you doing?" Hot Rod said. "Writing a report? You're supposed to be going over the telemetry from the moons we're scouting."

"I can look at it back on the Xantium," Red Alert said. "If you must know, I'm starting to write down my recommendations for Ultra Magnus. A couple of these moons are promising, but. . ."

"If you're going to tell me this survey was a waste of time. . ." Hot Rod started.

"I'm not. It only confirms what I've thought since we surveyed Mars," the femme said. "It would better serve our purposes. Or possibly Iapetus, but I'll have to share the data with Perceptor. On the other hand, this system is ripe for the picking with so many natural resources, and the Decepticons haven't touched any of it."

The femme did have a point there. The Sol system had so many untapped sources of energy and other materials, and the Decepticons hadn't exploited an inch of it. A disturbing thought. Maybe the thought hadn't occurred to them yet, or maybe they didn't have the numbers to do anything about it. But if the Autobots could get a foothold in this system, they could help the humans protect what was theirs, as well as share in the bounty. Maybe life with the organics wouldn't be so bad after all.

88888

Hot Rod sat through Red Alert's preliminary talk with Magnus, annoyed and flattered that his commander wanted his input. But thankfully, Magnus let him go after a couple of hours, allowing him to hit the wash racks and grab some energon. Springer was in charge of the watch this shift, so he had their quarters to himself. Hot Rod figured if Drift wanted to talk, he'd come find him, like he said he would. And he wasn't proven wrong. Drift appeared at his door not long after he made it back to his quarters.

Hot Rod let the other mech inside.

"How did the survey go?" Drift asked, taking a seat on Springer's berth.

Hot Rod shrugged. "Red's got all the data she needs, I think," he said. "But let's cut the small talk. Why are you here?"

Drift expected that. Hot Rod's short fuse was infamous among the crew. A retort wasn't what was needed right now. It had taken him most of the month since they left Earth to work up the mettle to come talk to Hot Rod. Drift didn't fear the younger mech's temper. He liked and respected Hot Rod. No, his reluctance had more to do with his own reservations regarding events taking place before they left Earth, and just where he'd stand, what chances he'd have once he talked to Hot Rod.

And Hot Rod, contrary to popular belief, was not stupid, or ignorant.

"Does this have anything to do with. . .the proposition we both received the night before we left?" he said.

Drift nodded.

"So?" Hot Rod asked.

"What, if anything, is going to be done about it once we're back on Earth?" Drift said.

"That depends on lot of things," Hot Rod answered. "I guess. . .I don't know."

He sat down across from Drift. The other mech's question was a good one.

"Did Prime manage to get you alone?" Drift asked, arms crossed, one corner of his mouth turned up, giving Hot Rod a wry look.

"Cornered's more like it," Hot Rod muttered. "What about you?"

"Yes," he answered. So they both 'faced Prime. Well, that gave credence to the legendary stamina of the Primes, Drift thought.

"Y'know," Hot Rod said, leaning back against the wall, "I think maybe we should've just given into his request when he asked both of us to his quarters. So if you're asking what I'm going to do when we get back to Earth, I think we should both talk to Prime and see where things go from there."

Drift was silent for a moment. A fair way to go about things. But he had one more question.

"It doesn't bother you he asked me, too?" Drift said.

"Why should it? You're one of us, an Autobot, a brother-in-arms. What and who you were before joining the Wreckers is dead, same as the rest of us. We all have a past, even Spring and me. There's a reason why we, all of us on this ship are Wreckers. Never forget that," Hot Rod said.

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Ironhide was sullen; Barricade kept pushing his buttons. Even in Cybertronian, it was clear what was going on. Elita-1 kept getting between the two mechs. Jazz just hung back, arms crossed, a smile on his face. Mirage and Hound ignored them, quietly talking with Epps about whatever it was they found to discuss.

Graham closed his eyes, imagining he was at home, in the Highlands, on his favorite trail. One of his happy places. Nope, not working. He knew Ironhide knew about Optimus' condition. Apparently, so did Barricade, from the few words exchanged in English.

"If you two don't shut up, I'm going to rip out your interface arrays and feed them to the birds," Elita-1 said.

Human eyes and Cybertronian optics diverted to the two grumbling mechs who had suddenly distanced themselves from the femme.

"There. That's better," Elita said. She smacked Barricade on the shoulder. "Keep your mouth shut about things you're not supposed to know about, or I'll put Optimus on your case. Or I'll just make something up and ask if I can come up with a suitable punishment."

Barricade frowned, red optics flaring brightly for a second while he commed the femme. Graham knew that much from the way both suddenly fell silent. A split second later, the femme onlined one of her smaller weapons, shooting Barricade in the shoulder.

"That's a warning," she said. "I'm not putting up with anymore of this nonsense. 'Cade, don't say another word until we're back on base. That is an order."

The mech stepped back, rubbing his shoulder, grinning when the femme turned her attention to Ironhide.

"And you-quit moping," she said. "Nothing is going to change that much. I'll be glad when Magnus gets back. You'll quit being so moody. So, are you little femmlings done with your cat fight?"

Graham had to bite back a grin. The femme had her arms crossed, tapping one foot on the ground, just like an exasperated human female would in a similar situation. And the look on Ironhide's face at being called a 'femmling' was one he would never forget. Fortunately, Epps managed to preserve the image for posterity, whipping out his cell phone, snapping an image before Ironhide could complain.

"All right-everyone, let's go," Graham said, grateful to finally be heading back home. The mission wasn't a complete failure-they'd destroyed one Decepticon, but not before learning there were more Autobots headed toward Earth in the near future. He was also proud that Elita-1 had done so well, more than holding her own with the mechs. Just one of many things to put in his next report, he reflected as he boarded the plane.

88888

"Quit fidgeting or I'm never going to get this scan done," Ratchet said, holding Optimus Prime down to the berth by one shoulder. "I need a few more seconds. . . "

Optimus vented air in a sigh, holding still for the medic.

"There," Ratchet said, putting away the scanner. "Done. You have a healthy, growing sparkling. Everything is going fine."

"Any questions?"

"It is just one protoform, correct?" Optimus asked.

"As far as I can tell," Ratchet said. "This diagnostic equipment wasn't meant for perinatal scans and treatment. Not to mention the way it's currently positioned, and I'm fairly sure the damn thing you insist on carrying is having an effect on the scans."

"The Matrix was meant to be carried by a Prime," Optimus said.

"And if you don't unload it soon, there's not going to be a lot of room left for a growing protoform," Ratchet snapped. "You don't exactly have a lot of room in there anyway as it is."

"You told me no 'cracking my armor' for anyone or anything short of a medical emergency involving myself or my sparkling until its emergence," Optimus said.

Damn. The slagger had him there.

"The Matrix is not very big," Optimus said.

"No, not compared to the sparkling you're carrying," Ratchet said. He didn't mention it looked big for one protoform, but he was sure it was one. He would be able to tell for sure when he could get Optimus into the Xantium's med bay.

"Now we've settled that for the moment, there's another matter we have yet to discuss," Ratchet said, sitting back on his stool, arms crossed.

"Which is?" Optimus said.

"You. Slagging two mechs at the same time," Ratchet said.

Optimus started to protest, but a look at the medic silenced him.

"One or both could be the sire," Ratchet said. "Are you prepared to deal with that situation?"

"I already plan on talking to them when they return," Optimus said.

"Good," Ratchet said. "Now get out. Oh, wait. . .one more thing-you should start to feel movement within a few days. I just want you to be ready, because with your luck and mine, that sparkling will probably wake you up out of recharge by turning, or kicking. If that's the case, don't be afraid. It's normal."

Optimus got off the berth, walking out of the med bay as fast as his dignity would allow. Ratchet watched him go. For once, he had a valid reason to kick Prime out, besides his normal annoyance. He asked Wheeljack and Perceptor for their help putting together some of the things needed for a sparkling-like a berth, toys, and other items. He didn't tell them anything beyond what they needed to know, just that those things were needed, just in case. One less thing Optimus would have to worry about.