Chapter 29
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any way, shape or form.
Quick recap: "…had it all been a cruel dream?..."
I think I mentioned this in previous chapters, but I'll do it again, just in case someone has forgotten. The term and process of carrying belongs to Litahatchee and I'm only borrowing it. :D
However. The method and term of spark-labor belongs to me. I have seen the term spark birth used in many different ways, but I thought I'd be safer making up my own term and not encroaching on someone else's idea.
I'm pretty lenient about these things, but ask the owner of the idea before you decide to use it. Don't just take it and run, because I promise that I will find out, and I will chase you down. I may not look it, but I can run pretty darn fast. :) I'm pretty sure that other authors are sick of having their work taken. Besides, upset authors make the best mobs. XD
And I'm sorry that I have to put these thingies up at the beginning of each chapter, but every day I see a story that's taken something from me or another author. I'm fed up with it. So if you like what you see, ask before you take, even if it's just a few lines.
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The room was dark. It was hot in the room but it was suddenly cold for Nightshade. Her hands began to tremble slightly as she sat up fully, swinging her legs over the edge of the berth. She clutched at the edge of the bed, wracking her memory files. The files were there, yes, but what had happened? Had she somehow "dreamed" the entire scene up and stored it as memory? But if she had, Wheeljack's lab would be intact…There was only one way to find out…
"Nightshade, what's the matter," Ratchet asked quietly, unsettled by the blank stare on her face. He immediately sat up, scooting close by the femme. What had possessed her to act this way?
"I-I have to go and see something," she murmured quietly, standing on shaky legs. She slowly made her way toward the door and Ratchet stood up quietly. Nightshade was walking slowly, almost drifting through the room. He followed quickly, calling her name out softly. She turned her clouded gaze to him.
"Yes, Ratchet?"
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"Y-yes," she said, nodding slightly. Ratchet gently wrapped a supportive arm around her waist, leading her from the room. Maybe if he went with her, he could get to the bottom of this…seeing his mate like this was unnerving. He then vowed to do all that was within his power to fix what was wrong. He had failed as her mate before and he would not do it again.
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Nightshade and Ratchet stole through the darkened hallways, their footsteps metallic feather light brushes on the floor below. Nightshade said nothing, her optics gazing at the floor. Ratchet watched her curiously, allowing her to lead him down the hallway. He looked up. Why were they going to Wheeljack's lab? She stopped a few meters away from the hallway junction, unable to look around the corner. If it were a dream, she would quite possibly never recover from the spark break…
"Ratchet, please tell me it isn't a cruel dream," she whispered quietly.
"What's the matter, Nightshade? Tell me what's going on," he said, cupping her face in his hand. Nightshade steadied herself before speaking, bracing herself for the pain. Ratchet could feel her sorrow through their bond. It was poorly hidden, but she still would not allow him into her half of the bond. While it hurt, he realized that she must have had a reason to do so. She was keeping something from him…something important.
"Did Wheeljack explode his lab yesterday?"
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Meanwhile, three doors down…
Prime was tired- no, wait, perhaps that was the understatement of the century. He had barely made a dent in his Unicron-sized to-do list. He'd managed to make some head way – he had the ex-decepticons partnered up with trustworthy Autobots to finish the military living quarters. The civilian half of the base had been put on hold. With that predicament out of the way, he only had to find out how to provide energon for the lot, without harming the environment. Solar and wind power were at the top of his list, along with repairing Wheeljack's labs and keeping Sunstreaker out of the medical bay. Ratchet may have had a femme to smooth out his rough edges, but he still got cranky, especially when Sunstreaker came into the med bay…and that meant repairing even more dents in the walls.
Shaking his head, Prime put these thoughts away. They were currently in possession of three trading vessels and four small shuttles, brought by the colonists. What they would do with them was beyond him – the humans were the only species they could legally trade with in this sector. Other species weren't even aware that they could travel among the stars. Interfering with their natural evolution was strictly forbidden. Their space bridges were now rendered useless. The main control center had been destroyed on Cybertron, effectively stranding them out in the alpha quadrant. Prime then destroyed the data of space bridges. The humans may have been their partners, but he would not give them anything that high tech.
Prime had made the wonderful decision of putting Sunstreaker and Sideswipe on digging duty and then in charge of escorting the younglings back and forth from their lessons. By the time they got off shift, they were too tired to even speak. It was a win-win situation for everyone on the base. At least they only had to worry about Ember and Evergreen now.
Things were getting better – instead of shorting allowing their leader to short a circuit, Prowl and Ratchet had demanded that he pass work on. Ratchet had even stated that by his professional opinion, Optimus and Elita's spark bond needed more attention. So, by medical order, Prime had his duties wrestled away from him.
He'd dumped the entire civilian housing project on a small administration femme. She'd been pestering him for a bigger, more important job. Optimus snickered as he looked over his memory files – the look on her face when he dropped the data pads, blueprints, and budget onto her desk was absolutely priceless. He would bring up that file in his computing center every time he needed a good laugh.
The human government was cooperating splendidly. The president was being unusually cooperative as well. Re-elections were coming up. He'd even sent some extra supplies, as a 'gift'. Prime snorted – he knew that their presence among the humans was to be revealed after the next election. Prime knew that he was being bribed to put a good word in for him…or not. President Smith also sent a few dozen solar panels for them to experiment with. So far, Wheeljack had managed to produce a few cubes of energon from the panels. It was far from being able to run the base but it was a major improvement, rather than relying on earth fuels and polluting the planet.
Barricade and Frenzy had both been snatched up by Prowl to help him with security. Those two could get any information he wanted within the hour, even top secret stuff, as long as Frenzy had coffee and Barricade had an IPod. Prowl suspected that Barricade and Blaster would become good friends. Prime nodded to himself, humming softly in approval of the situation – the ex-decepticons had been fully integrated into daily life on the base, with only a few snags along the way. Things were getting better.
And…and someone had sent him an anonymous message asking if there were designs available for a sparkling's body. Dismissing it as a prank, Prime had voiced his concerns to Ratchet. What if one of the femmes had indeed conceived a sparkling? Ratchet had shrugged, knowing nothing of the topic at hand. If any femme had conceived, he would have known about it by now. If the femme hid it from him…there would be Pit to pay with the medic. Ratchet took his duties seriously, almost too seriously. Anyone taken under his wing was considered a patient, and no one messed with his patients.
Prime leaned back in his chair, fond memories of a battle in the past drifting through his computing center. Ratchet had already established himself as the meanest medic out on the field. The mech had been operating on one of the twins when Skywarp dropped out of the sky and held a gun to Ratchet's head. Ratchet let out a chilling growl and told the seeker that if he did not remove the weapon, the seeker would find his thrusters welded to his head. Prime chuckled as he remembered the look on Skywarp's face. Those were the moments Prime loved.
Stifling a sleepy rev from his engine, Prime reached over and flicked the light on his desk off. He rose to his feet and left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. Another late night…Elita was going to kill him. Once he had reached his quarters, he moved as quietly as a sixteen ton mech could. Elita did not stir. She only grumbled quietly as he gently shoved her to the other side. Optimus leaned back and shut his optics off, rumbling quietly as Elita draped herself on his frame.
There were quiet footsteps outside in the hallway. Slag. He'd forgotten to turn the sound dampeners on. He gently pried Elita from his chest, ignoring the soft "nooo" that came from her vocalizers. Then he got to his feet and hurried over to the wall. Snatches of a conversation passed by and he couldn't help but to press his audio receptor against the seam of the door. What were Ratchet and Nightshade doing up this early in the morning? With his optics wide, he continued to listen…
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"Ratchet, please. Did he?"
"Yes, he did, Nightshade. Don't you remember?"
"I-I thought I had dreamed it up," she whispered quietly. Her optics glittered with an emotion he hadn't seen before. She was happy about something, he could feel it through their bond. He nudged at her gently, trying to bring the block down. She shook her head.
"Please give me a few more hours, Ratchet. I-I couldn't do that to you and then tell you no," she murmured quietly, absently taking his hand in hers and leading him back down the hallway. Ratchet stared at her. What was going on? He needed to get to the bottom of this, now.
"Don't worry, Ratchet, you'll find out later on today."
"You promise? I don't like this at all, Nightshade."
"I know, I promise I will tell you today. Please, just hold me right now."
The journey back to the room was short and quiet. Nightshade moved through the darkened room silently, settling onto the berth. A small smile crossed her face plates. Ratchet lay down beside her, reaching for her tentatively. He didn't know if she was going to blow up at him again... Nightshade suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. After a few minutes, she pulled away, giving him a radiant, knowing smile. She then burrowed into his arms, ignoring Ratchet's confusion. Ratchet held her close, kissing the top of her head. When she spoke, it was so quiet that he almost did not hear her.
"I love you, Ratchet."
"I love you too, Nightshade."
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Nightshade was on edge. Two minutes until her break. Two minutes until she could test herself. Two minutes until she found out whether or not she was going to be converting that extra office into a nursery. She had already 'borrowed' Ratchet's scanner. Now the device lay in one of the compartments in her arm, assuring in its hefty weight. Moon Racer saw Nightshade clutching at the counter with something akin to pain on her face. Concerned, Moon Racer gently placed her hand on Nightshade's shoulder.
"Nightshade – oh, I'm so sorry!"
Nightshade had leapt into her air, clutching at her fuel pump. Then she whirled around, a murderous glint in her optic. Seeing that her 'attacker' was Moon Racer, the glint in her optic disappeared and a smile appeared on her face.
"Oh, hello, Moon Racer. What can I help you with?"
"I just wanted to know if you were alright. You're kind of twitchy today." Way to be blunt, Moon Racer thought to herself, wincing slightly. Nightshade's smile drooped like a wilted flower.
"Just nerves," Nightshade said quickly. Then she looked up at the clock and saw that it was time for break.
"I-I have to go, I'll be back in a breem," Nightshade said, scurrying into one of the examining rooms and locking the door behind herself. Moon Racer just stared before shaking her head. If Ratchet didn't get to the bottom of this soon, she was going to strap Nightshade down to a table and figure it out herself.
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Nightshade sat in a chair inside the room, trembling as she set the device up. She took her scanning blocks down and ran the device over her abdominal area. Even though she was trembling in sheer apprehension and terror on the inside, her hands were steady. The machine beeped, alerting her that it had gathered enough information to give accurate results. Nightshade set it down on the counter beside her and stared at it. The minutes dragged by, with the numbers on the digital display changing slowly.
Primus, this was worse than the first time she had been scanned. After a few minutes, the machine beeped quietly. She lunged for it, sending the machine over the edge of the table. She managed to catch it before it hit the ground and winced. If it had hit the ground, she would have had to start all over again. With shaking hands, she righted the machine and began to read the spiraling letters.
…Setting: Detect conception stage. Frequency: 2000 kHz. Sensitivity: 100 percent.
No compensation for outside activity. Scan for spark-material only.
Results now available. Continue?
Conception confirmed. Sparkling is between four and five orns of age. Log medical scan?
Nightshade selected 'yes' on the screen and shut it off. Numbness settled over her body. She was going to have a sparkling. She and Ratchet were going to become creators. Maybe she wasn't as defective as she thought!
Then, sudden happiness surged through her systems and she began to laugh happily. She put the device away, saving the data to show Ratchet. She almost ran out of the room and into the library, just to double check her findings. Moon Racer was startled out of her wits by Nightshade running into the medical library, her optics darting around, searching for something. Moon Racer peered down at her and placed a holo-cube back on the shelf before climbing back down the ladder.
"Whoa, girlie. What's going on? Where's the fire," Moon Racer asked, watching the femme furiously flip through a catalogue of the available books. Nightshade only smiled up at her. Selecting a book, she shut the catalogue and disappeared into the metal shelves. Moon Racer only watched curiously. That's what she gets for bonding herself to Ratchet, she thought, smirking, she's finally gone nutters.
Nightshade found the holo-cube she was looking for and took it from its protective case. Sitting on the floor, she flipped a tiny switch on the pad and watched as Cybertronian appeared in the air in front of her optics. She moved her hand into the display of light-matter, selecting a page number and topic. The light color changed and fizzled quietly before the display changed. Her symptoms matched the ones in the book perfectly.
Irritability with a full night's recharge? Yes. Was she always either hot or cold? Yes, to an extreme. Some days she had to recharge with all of the heating vents on. Some days, she had to turn the environmental controls in the living room off and recharge out there. Did she purge after a few sips of energon? Yes. Everywhere, unfortunately. Did she go for orns without interfacing and then jump her mate? Yes. Whether or not it was fortunate depended on who was asked about the situation.
She, the 'defective' femme, had managed to conceive.
Nightshade then replaced the book and took off in search of her mate for him to thoroughly scan her.
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"RATCHET!!"
Ratchet spun around at the sound of Nightshade's voice. Prime stopped mid-sentence, peering down the hallway curiously. Then Nightshade launched herself into Ratchet's arms, throwing her arms around his neck. Ratchet mentally groaned – it wasn't that he didn't want to interface (he loved interfacing just as much as the next mech) but he was talking to Prime right now…and nothing killed the mood more than having his boss standing right beside him while Nightshade was sending suggestive comments through their bond. Prime chortled and winked at Ratchet, excusing himself.
"Nightshade, what-"
"Guess what! Guess what," she said, her optics twinkling brightly. He was suddenly wary. What had she done? Had she rigged the shower? Had she rearranged the library? Had she finally gone crazy?
"I am not crazy," she cried out, jabbing him in the shoulder, "Guess what I just found out."
"You're hungry," he stated, pulling the most logical explanation of her strange behavior from the air around them. Nightshade blinked up at him before shaking her head. Ratchet sighed. He had work to do, he didn't have time to play any silly games right now.
"No, silly. Guess again."
"You…want to recharge?"
"No, Ratchet. One last guess."
"I don't know, tell me," he grumbled quietly, checking the clock on the wall. Red Alert was going to flay him within an inch of his life if he wasn't in the med bay in exactly three minutes and twenty two seconds. Red Alert had a night planned out for his mate and had made it very clear to the rest of them that he was not going to tolerate their actions any more. Then he left, throwing his identification badge at Moon Racer.
"Guess," she whined, crossing her arms. The gentle drumming of her fingers on his shoulder armor brought him down back to Earth from his reminiscing. Ratchet, realizing that she was not going to move until he had complied, took a final stab at what she had found out.
"You're getting a promotion?"
"Well…yes, that too, but that's not it."
"What is it then?"
"What color should we paint our sparkling?"
Ratchet stared back at her in confusion for a second before he realized the implications of what she had just said. His jaw almost hit the floor and he began stuttering quietly, earning a giggle from Nightshade. Happiness flowed through his systems, almost shorting a few circuits at the pure elation that he felt.
"Wh-what? You mean…"
"Scan me, Ratchet. I've already done it twice, but I-I still can't believe it," she said happily, poking him in the shoulder again. She let go of him, sliding to the ground and landing gently on her feet. Ratchet nodded and booted up the long unused software. His optics dimmed to green. His world turned into a variety of blackish blue hues. Everything was slightly fuzzy, but he could still see her spark, sharply outlined on the inky background by its brilliance. It was an almost blindingly white star on the black background with tendrils of electric-blue radiation snaking out toward his spark. Ratchet gasped when he saw it. Nestled safely in her reproductive tank, almost entirely hidden within the jumbled wires, lines, and buffer fluid, was a tiny glowing spark. It couldn't have been more than a few orns old, he realized. The only reason he hadn't been able to detect it long before that because she had a scanning block up at all times.
His optics returned to sapphire. Nightshade threw her arms around him, trembling as she finally brought down her firewalls. He surged into their bond and back to his rightful place, wrapping his arms around her tightly. They had been blessed with a sparkling of their own. After all they had been through, they had been given one of the greatest gifts their kind could receive.
"Nightshade, I can't believe it…please tell me I'm not dreaming," Ratchet whispered quietly, stroking the side of her face. She smiled at him and kissed him gently.
"You're not, Ratchet," she said happily.
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They decided not to tell anyone. Nightshade had already had enough excitement to last her two lifetimes with what had happened with Starscream. For weeks after she'd recovered, she'd been treated like a doll made of china. She wasn't given full shifts, if she looked ill someone would call Ratchet, if she so much as sighed, they'd give her the rest of the day off…it was nice at first, but then it got old very quickly. And if she told anyone about the little spark she carried, there would be an explosion of epic proportions. With her corrupted files, no one thought that she would ever manage to conceive, but she had miraculously managed to do something that took other healthy femmes years to accomplish.
She wouldn't be allowed to do anything at all – no work and all rest – and Nightshade enjoyed her work in the nursery and in the medical bay. She would die of boredom if she had to rest in bed for the next year…then again, being waited on hand and foot sounded nice, if only for a few days... Throwing in the fact that the local terror was going to become a creator was more than enough to finalize their choice.
She actually giggled at that one. Red Alert's CPU would probably crash…along with a few dozen others. Many mechs on base had no idea what Nightshade saw in Ratchet. Sure, he was a good looking mech but he was callous and rude at times, and he preferred the solitude of his room over the noisy commons room. He was a loner by nature, something that most Cybertronians were not programmed for. Their kind was communal and entirely dependant on strong relationships. Ratchet participated occasionally, but he preferred his peace and quiet. He was not the ideal candidate to sire a sparkling. Nightshade on the other hand, was a right little ray of sunshine. She was bright and cheerful, a regular social butterfly. She was intelligent and had a career of her own, an ideal mate…but for some odd reason, her spark had settled on Ratchet.
And if Chromia and Elita found out? She shuddered – every mech and femme and human would know about it in a matter of astroseconds. Nightshade may have loved the two femmes like sisters, but she sure wasn't going to tell them every single little detail of her private life. There would be Pit to pay with those two femmes…especially if Nightshade did not include them in the spark-labor portion of the birth. She pushed her worries and anxiety away, if only for a few hours. They would deal with it later, but not now.
Tonight was a night to celebrate.
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Ratchet was sitting up against the wall, his legs splayed over the berth. Nightshade came into the room and stood beside him, her fists on her hips. He ignored her, a small smile crossing his face. The display from the holocube changed, revealing a picture of an organic creature. Nightshade huffed quietly. Ratchet knew that she didn't like it when he took up the entire berth. Then again, some nights she would all but shove him off by curling up so close to him. She continued glaring at him. His smile grew bigger.
"Rat-chet."
"What is it, love," he finally asked, turning an adoring gaze up at her. That particular look always managed to get him out of trouble.
"You're taking up the entire berth again."
"Oops?"
He still did not move.
"Ratchet, I want to lie down," she whined quietly, poking his shoulder gently. He put his cube down and looked up at her, an appraising look on his face. His arms darted out, wrapping themselves around her waist before tugging her down on top of him. She squeaked, flailing her arms and legs as she tried to regain her balance. Ratchet turned her so that she was sitting sideways in his lap, with her legs dangling over the edge of the berth.
"What now, femme?"
She giggled quietly, leaning her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a few moments before Ratchet spoke. His face was impassive and mask like, betrayed by the mischievous glint in his optics.
"You know, Nightshade…"
"What, Ratchet," she asked warily. The last time he had gotten this tone of voice, he had tickled her silly and incoherent.
"I don't like it when you pay more attention to other mechs than me," he said quietly, a smirk on his face. She gave him a blank look before bursting into hearty laughter.
"What mech…you're jealous of Scorponok? Don't make me laugh! Oh…you're serious, aren't you?"
"Completely," he said, his tone serious and grave. Nightshade snorted, biting her lower lip. His face broke out into a grin and she realized his intentions. She squeaked again, tensing in anticipation of being tickled within an inch of her life. His fingers slipped under her armor, gently brushing up against the very sensitive circuitry that lay beneath. She began squealing, batting at his hands wildly.
"AH! Stop it! That t-tickles!"
Ratchet only smirked at her before his assault increased by tenfold. She shrieked in laughter, slapping at his hands and squirming. She fell over onto the berth, her head hitting the soft padding. He pounced on her, mock-growling.
"You're mine now, femme!"
"AH!"
It was a little over five minutes later when Ratchet finally ceased and desisted. Nightshade crumpled over on the berth, glaring up at him while trying to calm her racing intake fans. Once more, he playfully growled when she stuck her glossa out at him, gently teasing the femme with his dexterous fingers. She squealed loudly, kicking at him and missing.
"Stop! Ratchet!"
The sound of Ironhide's massive fist beating on the wall next to them startled them from their game.
"Some of us are tryin' to recharge, yah fraggers!"
Ironhide once again proved why they needed higher quality sound dampeners. Ratchet snorted quietly and turned the lights off. He turned onto his side and gathered Nightshade close in his arms, happily reaching through their bond. She embraced him both physically and through their bond, pulling him even closer. Nightshade smiled when his hand drifted downwards and settled protectively over the tiny spark she carried.
Things were going to be much, much more different now.
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I know I'm mean and all, but I'm not that cruel. :D
