Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and e-mails. Per reader requests including more twin trouble and sparkling cuteness. And a "test" for fun. Onward to trying and getting it wrong. This is version 2. First time FF net connected words together I never connected. Spacing is now corrected from ff net mess. And I even used their spell checker to boot!
TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS
#224 Do not forget we set an example in our actions, behaviors and views to the humans and each other. We are Autobots and ascribe to a higher standard of conduct. * Exceptions are not made for twins, weapons specialists, scouts, or upset Primes.
Ram kicked his little protoform feet, sucking at his empty energon bottle. "Did my little sparkling get enough?" Chromia chirped and clicked in Cybertronian at him, reaching in and pulling the bottle out of his tiny grasp. Lying on his back in his own recharge berth, he chirped up at her. "I need to clean this, now be a good bot until I return," the femme instructed, her optics sliding to the side and focusing on the young blond haired human girl sitting on the wall shelf nearby. Annabelle raised one hand in salute, acknowledging the unspoken request to keep an eye on him even as she ate her lunch.
Ram giggled, waving his arms and stubby metal legs before rolling to a sitting position as his mother left the room. He clicked at Annabelle. She clicked back before climbing over the rail and moving to sit by him.
She put her sandwich down, tapping his fingers with hers. His optics moved towards her sandwich. "Human food," she clicked in Cybertronian, picking up and taking a bite. Smiling, she swallowed then took another bite. "You can't have this."
He clicked, reaching for it.
"No silly, can you chew?" she asked, showing him the motion. He dropped his jaw, bobbing his head up and down with his mouth open. Giggling, she closed his jaw with a finger. "Use your jaw not your head." She opened her mouth and he copied. She closed her mouth and he did. Open and close, they repeated it a couple of times. "There, you can chew. But not this. My grilled cheese sandwich. No, mine," she held it up beyond reach. Her eyes glanced towards the open door then back to the sparkling. "Mmmmmm, better not. You don't have a tongue or spit and no way to swallow," she tapped his nose. "You might get sick and I don't want you sick. You're my friend."
He pouted, folding his arms while revving his system a little. "Are you growling at me? You are," she scrunched her face up and leaned close. Growling back, she watched his optics widen in surprise.
"And they say our species are too different," Chromia teased, reaching in to lift them both out. "Ram has a check-up appointment with Ratchet. Your mom is waiting in the main hangar."
Half an hour later the femme watched her sparkling sitting on the medical berth as Ratchet completed his check up. Ironhide stood alongside, one black armored hand wrapped around her hip plates.
::When are you going to tell him you are carrying again?:: Ironhide sent to her alone.
:When he is done with Ram. Unless you want to?:: Chromia
::It is all yours my love:: Ironhide
::Hah! Takes two old cog:: Chromia bumped her hip plates against his while smirking.
Ram squealed, drawing their attention to him. Ratchet tapped his bottom jaw with his armored yellow green finger. "Absolutely normal reaction to the sensor test," he turned, looking at Chromia and Ironhide when it happened. "Hey!" he yelped as Ram bit down on the end of his finger. "Let go," Ratchet ordered, gently trying to pull his hand back. Ram held on, forcing him to stop. The little mech growled, grabbing at the finger with both of his tiny hands.
"You fed him right?" Ratchet raised an optic arch.
"Bottle and a half with the new minerals," Chromia confirmed, moving forwards and sinking on her legs to lower her optics to the height of the recharge berth. "Do we touch weird old stuff with our lip plates? No icky bad." The femme crooned.
Ratchet vented. "If that were true you'd never touch Ironhide."
"Funny medic. Now release him," Chromia clicked the command and smiled when Ram obeyed her. "See, no problem," She picked up her sparkling, rubbing over his helm with her hand. He clicked happily, leaning against her palm. He sat still, reaching and holding his hands before his mouth and made an up and down motion.
"What is he doing?" Ironhide puzzled.
"Is he chewing?"Ratchet guessed.
"Annabelle and her sandwich," the femme realized. "She was eating it in front of him."
"Sparklings copy what they see. I remember Bumblebee gluing a discarded data pad cover to his face plates to copy Prime's battle mask," Ironhide remembered.
"You're doomed kid," Ratchet muttered then yelped as a large black armored footpad hit his front shin plate. "I'm going to weld your aft to your..."
"Language!" Chromia snapped.
The mechs wrestled across the floor, grabbing and punching as Ram chirped and clicked excitedly. Chromia vented, waiting for them to stop. "Now see that hold Ram, copy that and how to get out of it. And that punch though not to that part of his armor. Oh, do not copy that. That's just daddy being rough," the femme said. "Please Primus, let our femme take after me."
#226 Do not alter official papers, tests, reports and needed materials for a prank without keeping an original untouched backup.
Prowl held the datapads in his white armored hands, resisting the temptation to be anything but a professional second in command officer. His blue optics blazed even as his black and white armored wing doors twitched once. "Your assignment carried clearand precise instructions. A chart outlining your knowledge and interaction with the humans to create a matrix for newly arrived Transformers. And this is what you present." An armored finger tapped the top data screen.
"We listed it the way you wanted and what you wanted even to revealing a few pranks," Sideswipe said. He rolled idly on his wheeled feet, knowing it irritated the officer when he refused to engage his feet pads and stay still.
"What do we need to change?" Sunstreaker asked. The yellow armored mech glanced at his twin in confusion. They had tried to follow the orders so what was the problem?
"Change the entire test," Prowl stated, handing the datapads back to them.
"What test?" They chorused, scrolling through their data pads.
What race are you? Please answer the following truthfully and record your answers for scoring at the end:
1. A report is due and your attitude is :
a. Another day, more paperwork filed after the deadline with a good excuse and bad spelling.
b. Not needed, too busy trying to survive.
c. On time to superior Officers with a prank attached for later.
d. All stolen, worthless reports are for target practice like duh!
2. You need refueling:
a. Four food groups – take out, microwaVe, delivery and add water.
b. Drink some energon, store the rest for later. Not sure where the next refuel will come from.
c. Share with all around you, Even the high grade.
d. Drink until full, subspace the rest and keep it hidden from those worthless slaggers you fight alongside of.
3. You find a damaged building following a fierce battle:
a. Think "building permits, EPA clearance, environmental clean-up, overtime for the destruction crew and wonder what that is going to cost in today's market to Rebuild?"
b. Hide inside until both forces pass by.
c. Scan to ensure no being is trapped then tag as a landmark for the next scout or warrioR.
d. Blast it for target practice. Hey, it was going to fall down eventually anyways.
4. You need an upgrade:
a. Don't even ask. Consult the Intergalaxy treaty, federal laws, state laws, city codes, ordinances, local guidelines If you apply properly and receive approval by a committee that meets once a month to Discuss budget requests...
b. Non military uses only. Ask a sympathetic Autobot medic if it is critical.
c. Ask Ratchet, First Aid, or Hook when they are in a good mood and you have the time for medbay.
d. Steal the parts and install on your own chassis as needed. Last resort – the parts techs that use the term medic but could care less about you remaining online.
5. You pass an injured Transformer on the battlefield:
a. Call command or superior officer and ask what to do before approaching and asking, "Are you okay?" in English.
b. Continue to sneak across the battlefield and do not get involved. It is not your War and you are not armed.
c. Call for the medics and help stabilize and calm them if Neutral or Autobot and guard if Decepticon.
d. Blast their spark into shards and take their parts and weapons for yourself.
6. You could tell a lie to get out of A situation:
a. I plead the 5th amendment, call my lawyer, this is illegal Search and seizure and lie like does this dress make me fat or yah boss, you are always right type lie?
b. We do not lie, the bots that fight this war lie they are doing us good by fighting each other.
c. We do not lie and we do not Hate. We aspire to better things including freedom for all beings.
d. Yah, when I said I would answer your question. * points weapon * 'Slag off, I'm busy,' while reclining in a metal chair.
7. A friend needs help:
a. Ok, but it is going to cost you. Sure, but you owE me lunch, or fill the truck back up when you are done moving or similar response.
b. Exchange places to hide, Autobots to help and where to find energon.
c. Help without thinking about it, even to an enemy, because it is the Right thing to do.
d. I do not have friends, acquaintances and I offline them to take their rank and position or weapons.
8. Your base of operations:
a. Is anywherE I can put my boots, tennis shoes or clothes on the floor and get away with it.
b. Is anywhere I can recharge withouT being shot at.
c. A crashed spaceship inside a dormant volcano, Diego Garcia base or Mikeala's repair garage.
d. A sunken spaceship, the desert, anyWhere away from the air commander's whiny vocals.
9. Your leader is
a. The top position changes every four or eight years and I did not vote for him so do not blame me. Otherwise, it depends on the mission, the assignment and who survived the last battle.
b. No leader, we keep to ourselves.
c. Gives us hope and keeps us going but he really Needs to tone down his latest paint job. It is embarrassing for a mech his age.
d. A psychotic maniac who thinks he can rule the galaxy and cannot control his temper or his Second in command.
For every a. answer you get 1 point. For every b. answer, you get 2 points, for every c. 3 points, for every d. 4 points.
0 - 9 Human
10 - 18 Neutral
19 - 27 Autobot
28 - 36 Decepticon
37 + Go back to school, you cannot count dumb aft.
Sideswipe continued protesting their innocence when his twin vented in surprise. ::What?:: he sent over their private twin bond.
::Did you notice a few letters were darker than the rest?::Sunstreaker grumbled.
::And?::Sideswipe
::Put them in a single line:: Sunstreaker
Sideswipe reread the document in his processor, lining up the darkened letters.
O V E R R I D E W A S H E R E T W I N S .
His optics shuttered rapidly, ::Override was here twins! That daring femme set up us::
::You know, maybe she is a good match for you Sides:: Sunstreaker commented thoughtfully.
Story Arc – To find a Femme (pt 3)
Cybertron & Earth, year 1856
The impact crater still smoked when Fracture glanced her crimson optics back. The nighttime darkness barely registered on her advanced sensors. The sandy shifty soil felt strange beneath her feet as the stars overhead were unknown. "This is a slagging excuse of a planet. No metal layering or proper sized structures, biological life forms, and no signal from Lord Megatron. This search could take a pit's time," the protoform femme grumbled then straightened with military precision. A Cybertronian signal was inbound to her location, closing fast. Seeker fast and powerful.
Overhead, Jetfire roared into view, his Cybertronian shape distinctive as a cargo hovercraft. Without any betraying of light in the darkness, the mech shifted to his massive dominant bi pedal mode. His creaking, groaning slow transform caught her by surprise.
"Aching ancient excuse of a body," he swore while tugging at his transform helm. It flipped up, revealing his red optics and ancient facial design. "You're a femme," he exclaimed, red optics narrowing in on her smaller lighter form.
"I'm a Decepticon warrior femme who is armed," she corrected, the hint of warning in her voice. "I'm here to find High Lord Protector Megatron."
"Hah, he ain't been spotted or heard from! Find the ancient Prime's tomb first! Fallen still in charge?" Jetfire asked, creaking and shifting to a bent over form. She backed up a step, concerned he might actually fall on her.
"He is but Starscream is in temporary command," she ground out.
"Starscream? Little bitty sparkling? Silver with red and blue on his seeker wings? I remember him. Threw a fit , threw his toys and his energon bottles," the ancient mech rubbed at his hanging chin metal plates. "Real handful to his parental femme."
"He's still a handful," she chortled. "Where is your alt form?"
"Ain't got one," he gestured at his dark metal chassis. "No craft large enough on this world except sea ships. Tried that but the motion made my tanks churn."
"How backwards is this world?"
"Technologically nonexistent. When dawn alights the daggers tip, three kings will reveal the doorway," he quoted as his red optics looked skyward. She recognized the signs of metal deterioration and energon deprivation on his scarred frame. He vented, looking down as if seeing her for the first time.
"You're a femme," he exclaimed, red optics narrowing in on her.
"I'm leaving to find Megatron," she said, backing up slowly.
"Megatron? Is he here? Got a signal he was coming for the Allspark. Never arrived. Lost the signal over the ice cap. Got my own search to complete," he saluted then transformed, slowly assuming his cargo hover mode before rising and zooming out of site.
To be continued...