Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 years.

= Comm Link =

:: Bond Speak ::

Chapter 35: Dead End

It took three groons for the onsite medics to get Sentinel Minor stable. Three groons.

Ultra Magnus sighed and covered his mouth for a moment before he dropped his hand, collected himself, and stepped into the room. He had thought he had seen the last of young mechs on medial berths, chassis pried open with tubes upon tubes hooked up to them. It seemed he was wrong.

Walking up to the berth, the aged mech watched a nurse check Sentinel's systems, her careful fingers prodding at IVs and feeding tubes. There were just so many wires snaking into the young mech's chassis, blue spark light flickering over the room since his chest was jammed into an open-locked position. Yet, one of the saddest things was Optimus Prime's downtrodden figure, sitting there at his old friend's berth side while holding his hand.

He had heard a rumor that Optimus Prime had been trying to reconnect with Sentinel Minor. It was good to see that even after all their strife, Optimus still cared about his youngling-hood friend.

Ultra Magnus himself still cared for the rash young-bot. Sentinel might not have been the best fit for his Second in Command, he would admit that now, but he was still a good soldier. He just needed to grow up a bit. Growing up didn't mean you had to do it alone though … Sentinel should have asked for help! In fact, Magnus had been waiting for the ex-Prime to come to speak with him for some time, but the blue youth had cut himself off completely after losing his titles. In fact, he had run away and nearly gotten himself killed on an organic planet. And when he came back mangled and scarred, he socially distanced himself from all his previous friend groups. Then, out of nowhere, Jazz started asking about a sparkling.

The sparkling was almost a near copy of Sentinel Minor, right down to the ear fins.

Seeing no dependents listed on Sentinel's file, Ultra Magnus had asked Factcheck to personally look into the Minor's records. And now this, a medical emergency, and they didn't even know who to call or check on. Luckily, it seemed Jazz was already looking into the sparkling and had headed to Sentinel's flat immediately … especially after the medics had gotten a look at Sentinel's spark. It was in tatters. Over-stressed, scarred, and apparently supporting a sparkling bond alone. The medics were worried about the sparkling and started asking where he or she was.

Walking forward, Fixit leaning over the open chassis while documenting something, Ultra Magnus listened to the medic murmur to Optimus, "And you're sure you don't need a break? Sentinel's spark has stabilized and it doesn't need to cling to your EM field like it was earlier."

Looking up at the medic, obviously emotionally exhausted, Optimus nodded, "I don't mind. You said so yourself that if Sentinel's spark is looking for EM fields to connect with, it's better if it's a familiar one. So, I don't mind. Plus … I thought you said that spark-flux donations might be needed. I'm going to stay for that."

"Yes, that is true. I'll have a medic collect that in a little bit. It's a bit unnerving for some mechs so you should read the entire pamphlet on how spark-flux donations are done, but if you are sure, I'll have some energon brought for you before the procedure," added Fixit as he stepped away from Sentinel, nearly sputtering when he saw Ultra Magnus standing there. "U-Ultra Magnus, sir! I didn't hear you come in."

Optimus, seeming to snap out of his funk, was about to rise to his feet and salute his superior when Magnus waved his hand, stating simply, "At ease. Please remain seated Optimus Prime."

Probably not knowing what else to do, Optimus nodded and sat back down, his tone tired, "Sir, I'm sorry I haven't been replying to any summons. I just –"

"There is no need to explain yourself. It is fine," replied Magnus, having already assigned a few bots to help with Sentinel's workload and now apparently Optimus' if the mech was planning on doing a spark-flux donation. It was an intimate procedure from what he read and generally required a day of rest afterward.

Stepping closer, his optics seeing all the faint weld scars that still existed from Sentinel's fall, the military leader looked down to see the young-bot's actual spark. Beside himself, Magnus' optics gained a pained expression as he watched the odd rippling of the spark and how it seemed smoky in some areas and wounded in others like it had been cut away. It certainly made sense why the medics had put up a notice for emergency spark-flux donations.

Coming closer so that he could see Sentinel's offline face, Ultra Magnus' hand came forward as if wanting to touch the mech. He stalled, as if unsure. Then, as if deciding that he didn't always have to be a living symbol of strength, that large hand cupped the side of Sentinel's face, a thumb rubbing against the young mech's cheek plating in a fatherly way before pulling away. His EM field was immediately all business once more, the flicker of caring barely felt by those in the room. He was a professional mech first and foremost, but that didn't make him unfeeling.

"What could have done this? I've never seen scarring like this on a spark," said Magnus, the disquiet bleeding from his field.

Fixit shrugged, "Well, we have a few theories but if there is a sparkling involved, we are quite sure it's spark cannibalization."

Optimus sat up straighter, his voice chilled, "What do you mean cannibalized? Something's eating his spark?!"

Waving his hand, not needing a panicked visitor in the room, Fixit clarified, "Kind … of? You see, spark cannibalization is a lot like spark-flux donating. In essence, you are feeding spark energy to another spark, but with normal donations, only healthy sparks are allowed to contribute. Spark cannibalization, in turn, is when an unhealthy spark is being harvested. Thus, its spark-flux donating to such an extreme that it is killing the donating spark. Thus, spark cannibalization."

Magnus immediately stood taller, fear for Sentinel's mental health and the need for possible early retirement bubbling to the surface of his mind, "Is this something self-inflicted? Should we be concerned for his mental health?"

"Well," said Fixit, glancing at the spark again. "That seems unlikely. Its self ingrained in our coding to not harm our own sparks. Plus, the cuts are very clean, and such procedures were technically an accepted practice for single mechs with sparklings before the war."

Optimus looked horrified while the Magnus merely nodded.

Nervously, Fixit added, "But that was usually very short lived. Said mechs would be quickly paired off with a romantic interest or another single parent to support the sparkling bond, much like how it is today with the SSSCA, the Spark Support and Sparkling Care Association."

Immediately, both Optimus Prime and surprisingly Ultra Magnus squirmed. Fixit nearly rolled his optics at this. The SSSCA always got a bad reputation as the desperate mechs dating service. While spark-flux donations were entirely acceptable to help support a developing sparkling, it wasn't considered a long-term solution. Most mechs receiving the donations were encouraged to become listed with the SSSCA so that a natural and long term option could be obtained. Or, in other words, an arranged bonding. Normally, other single-parent mechs would pair off, but childless mechs were encouraged to join as well. Basically, you could sign up as a single desperate mech and end up with an endura and sparkling at the end of it.

"So," continued Fixit, telling himself to send a reminder to employee resources about accurate information being spread about the SSSCA, "This is probably the work of either an unlicensed medic or some mech with outdated medical coding. Either way, the medical board will be out for energon. This is severe malpractice."

Nodding in acceptance, Magnus said, "Please have someone look into this immediately. I currently have Sentinel Minor's assistant searching for any information about his medical care. The mech's designation is Cliffjumper. Feel free to contact him, he may have more information for you."

Truthfully, Magnus would have left everything to Jazz, but the red mech was just so guilt-ridden that the blue bot had told him to look for any information on this medical crisis. Hopefully, the assistant would find out who was responsible for this malpractice, and then Magnus would make sure Sentinel Minor got some justice.

Watching that sleeping face squint in pain for a moment, Ultra Magnus wondered if his schedule was free enough to sit with the ex-Prime, especially since a medic had finally shown up to take Optimus Prime for his spark-flux donation.

Nodding to Optimus as the mech rose to his peds, Ultra Magnus took the empty seat. He could spare a groon. And so, the medics paying him no mind, the military bot took the younger mech's hand and held it, his EM field strong and even. Sentinel's own field latched onto it like a sparkling embracing a parent.

Besides himself, the aged mech sighed. Technically, he knew that Sentinel Minor's punishment was right for his actions, even lenient in some ways, but that didn't mean Magnus had enjoyed stripping him of his titles. After all, young bots were imperfect. It was just the nature of things, but that didn't mean he was alone.

As an Autobot, you were never really alone.

"Till all are one," whispered Ultra Magnus, parroting words that time had nearly forgotten.

…

Cliffjumper was so guilt ridden that he hadn't even been able to take his evening energon. Heck, it was late enough that he could technically head out to the nearest bar, but just the knowledge that he had set off Sentinel Minor's breakdown caused him to become enraged. He was mostly mad at himself for opening his big mouth, and then he was mad at Sentinel for running his body into the ground to begin with, and finally he was mad at whatever mech had impregnated Sentinel. He was just … well, mad.

Rubbing his brow, he decided that it was best just to go leave for the day because he was getting nowhere with Sentinel Minor's personal comms history. Grouchily, he rose to his feet and headed towards the nearest exit, trying to keep his field close so he didn't offend everyone in the halls. He had barely even gotten to the back exit when he noticed two security guards near the door, speaking to somebot with raised voices.

"We are sorry, sir, but this is a secure facility and you have to check-in and wait at the front entrance for clearance. No just anybot can get in. If its an emergency, you have to either contact the bot you are trying to reach or his department head. We can't just let anymech in with the recent increase in security," said one of the guards, his tone strained like he wanted to yell, but was keeping it under control.

Cliffjumper was about to turn around and take another exit, when a sparkling's chirping sob reached his audios, along with the desperate voice of an older mech, "Please, we need to see Sentinel Minor. Something's wrong. His sparkling won't stop crying and Sentinel isn't answering my hails. Please, I have to know if he's okay."

The second guard, apparently not disturbed by the clicks of a scared sparkling, groused, "Sentinel Minor's file doesn't say anything about a sparkling. Please leave or we will forcefully remove you from the premises."

Besides himself, Cliffjumper stalled and immediately turned on his heel. He almost plowed over the guards so he could get to the doorway. He didn't recognize the aged yellow and white mech, but he knew Echo at a glance. And the poor thing, his EM field felt so defeated and weak. His facial plates were also drowning in tears like he had sobbed the whole way here. Before Cliffjumper even knew how to reacted, the sparkling was reaching for him and crying out, "Uncle CJ, where is alma! Where is my alma! I can't feel him!"

Springing forward to keep the young-bot from falling onto the floor, he soon had an armful of sobbing sparkling. At first, he didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to deal with sparklings. So, he awkwardly patted the youth's back like he had seen Jazz do days ago, allowing that young EM field to entwine with his own.

Trying not to act uncomfortable holding a youngling, Cliffjumper turned his attention to the older mech. The poor guy looked exhausted and had the honorable discharge badge next to his Autobot brand. Before Cliffjumper could even open his mouth though, the elder mech spoke, "You must be Cliffjumper. Sentinel Minor has mentioned you in passing from time to time. I'm Codebreaker, Echo's tutor. Generally, I would never come to the fortress, as it would be against Sentinel's wishes, but Echo had some kind of reaction. He started clawing at his chassis and wailing that he couldn't feel his alma. For a moment I feared the worse and rushed over here when Sentinel wouldn't' pick up his private line. Please tell me I am overreacting."

Now rubbing the sparkling's back in a more practiced manner, Cliffjumper frowned deeply as he spoke, "There was an incident earlier today. Sentinel Minor is currently in the medical wing. I'll approve you temporary access and we can all go see him."

The shock was written all over the tutor's face, but he nodded sternly, and soon all three of them were heading to the medical wing. For some reason, Cliffjumper didn't stop shushing the sparkling in his arms. Little Echo's EM field was completely intertwined with his now and it would be cruel to put him down. And so, even though he really didn't know the first thing about sparklings, Cliffjumper carried him the whole way, silently promising Sentinel that he would keep the little guy safe. He owed him that much.

Even if the little guy was probably a half-breed. Luckily, the kid looked exactly like his alma.

…

The medics working on Sentinel Minor immediately went into a tizzy the second Cliffjumper went up to one of the nurse-bots and asked what he should do with Sentinel's sparkling. Codebreaker was handed off for questioning about Sentinel's health while Cliffjumper found himself wrangled into an exam room separate from the Minor. He was about to put the sparkling down on the berth, but found himself being told to sit with the sparkling in his arms.

Not knowing what else to do, he awkwardly did as he was told. Then, without skipping a beat, a doc-bot and nurse-bot started fluttering around him, pulling in a spark support machine and a lot of other equipment that made Cliffjumper really uncomfortable. Beside himself, some of that nervous energy seeped into his EM field causing little Echo to squeak in terror and cling closer to his plating. A full-blown breakdown would soon be upon them.

The medic, Fixit, snapped out with his EM field as if chastising the secretary. No words were needed for Cliffjumper to understand that he had to keep his EM field calm and collected. Ugh, this was why he was a paperwork mech. He hated social situations like this.

Running a hand down his face as his vent's sighed, Cliffjumper struggled to keep his irritation at bay ... especially when the nurse started to place a monitor on his wrist as well as Echo's. The sparkling just sniffled but didn't' stop them, burrowing deeper into Cliffjumper's arms.

The assistant, in turn, looked horrified.

"What is this?" he squeaked, secretly terrified of medics like any normal mech. "I'm not the sick one."

The nurse-bot and doc-bot seemed to ignore him, turning on a monitor. Immediately, Cliffjumper recognized his spark pace, since it had his ID as an active Autobot. Oddly enough though … the second spark pace was trying to match his own.

What the slag was going on here?

"Oh thank Primus, he latched onto your EM field," said the medic, obviously relieved. He then started whispering to the nurse-bot, something about requesting required leave and medical housing.

Tank sinking, part of him struggling to keep his EM field worry-free, Cliffjumper didn't even get to ask what was going on before a medical tray was placed next to him and Echo. Cliffjumper winced at the nastier-looking tools and made sure to pet Echo's head reassuringly. Though, honestly, it might have been more to reassure himself.

"Okay, little guy," said the medic, leaning forward, "My name is Fixit. I'm taking care of your alma right now because he's sick. Sentinel Minor is your alma and not your sire, right?"

Turning his head out of Cliffjumper's chassis, optics still wet, the youth sniffled and then nodded, "Yeah, Sentinel is my alma. He said I was a hard birth but was worth it. Is he okay? I-I can't feel him, and I'm scared."

"He's going to be just fine. He just needs some bed rest and medicine," said the medic, EM field flaring comfortingly, "Now, do you know your sire's designation? We need to get in contact with them."

Rubbing at his optics, Echo shook his head, "No, I don't have a sire. Breakdown say's I don't need one."

Humming as he nodded, writing down on a digi-pad something about traumatizing birth and no sire present, Fixit continued, "Do you have any chassis pains or anything normally, Echo? Bedside's today that is?"

Echo wiped his optics again and mumbled, "Yeah, I take medicine for it though."

The medic smiled and immediately wrote down on the digi-pad again before continuing, "And do you know what you take, Echo? Or do you have any with you so we know what you are taking?"

Little leg's curling more into Cliffjumper chassis, the young mech whispered, "Codebreaker grabbed my bag. It should be in there. Alma always makes sure I have it with me."

The nurse left the room without even having to be asked and a klick later the medic was opening the little pack. Cliffjumper didn't miss the surprised flare of the medic's optics as he lifted up a small medical cube, "My, that is a fine mix. Not even a trace of separation. Please take that for testing immediately."

As quickly as the cubes were introduced, they were removed and the medic was once again asking questions, "That was a professionally mixed cube. Do you know where it came from, Echo?"

Wet optics blinking in confusion, Echo nodded, "Yeah, Breakdown mixes them in the clinic. They taste okay, but alma never takes his like he's supposed to. He always says it would be a waste."

Jotting something else down, ignoring Cliffjumper's frown at all this news, Fixit continued, "Do you know who the Unit Head of the clinic is or where it's located? We need to ask them for you and your alma's records."

Rubbing his helm against Uncle CJ's chassis, Echo thought for a moment before whispering, "I don't remember the streets. I'm still learning maps, but it's a little clinic near … Dead End? Alma said it used to be a really shifty part of town but is okay now due to city cleanup. I'm not sure what he meant by that. It always seems clean to me."

Fixit frowned at this news but didn't let his concern slither into his EM field. Dead End was a nickname for a lower class neighborhood of the city that was slowly being upgraded by the middle class moving into the area. He honestly wouldn't have believed the kid that a clinic was there if Pharma hadn't just been bitching about it earlier today. Apparently, a request had come in to the Medical Council to renew a clinic's license in that area. The clinic's old Unit Head was retiring and Ratchet -yes, the one from Earth- was taking over as the new Unit Head. It honestly was a good place to have one with more family's taking up residence there. Pharma was just whining about having to go down there for an inspection. Apparently, he was worried about getting dirt on his finish.

"Okay, I'll contact the clinic," Fixit said with a strained smile before he reached for a spark scanner. "Okay little soldier, how about I pop your chassis open and we get a scan, alright?

Echo, not the least bit confused about how to open his own chassis, immediately popped it open like a good youngling. Cliffjumper didn't even get to reset his optics before golden light filled the room. It seemed a bit shaky, but at least Echo's spark seemed to be mimicking Cliffjumper's spark pulse as best as it could. The medic, after taking a moment to be surprised by a rare golden spark, patted Echo on the head, "Well done. We'll defiantly have get a new treat jar just for you."

It might have been wobbly, but Echo gave the medic a smile. Fixit returned it and then reached for a different tool, stating, "We'll make this real quick, and then we can put the two of you down for a nap."

Cliffjumper was immediately confused by this, irritation bleeding into his EM field. What did he mean by the two of you? He had an abandoning sire to find and punch in the face. Yet, as soon as irritation bled into his EM field, the red mech received a glare from the medic.

Rolling his optics, the assistant returned his EM pulse to normal. The medic merely nodded in satisfaction and was soon scanning the small spark, another doctor coming in and whispering with him about rotation speed, size, and the lack of staining colors. Cliffjumper didn't know what the heck that meant, but soon the scans were done and both he and Echo were handed medical cubes.

Echo downed his without a second thought and burrowed into CJ's chassis, much calmer and strangely groggy now. Cliffjumper, cube in one hand while the other kept Echo on his lap, almost snarled, "What is this? I don't need any type of medical grade. I need to get back to work."

Well, he probably was going to go out and have some strong high grade and then go back to work, but he hardly cared for semantics.

Already pulling out two thermal blankets while motioning for Cliffjumper to lie down, the medic shook his head, "Not right now, Agent Cliffjumper. Sparklings with one parent will sometimes cling to other adult sparks in times of stress and match their spark beat, especially when they can't feel their parent's spark through the bond. This is a best-case scenario in case … something happens to the parental bond."

Both CJ and Fixit turned to look down at Echo, the little mech's optics already blinking as he was pulled into rest mode. He was so far gone that it was obvious he wasn't even hearing the older mechs speak.

Swallowing, knowing he wasn't going to like this, Cliffjumper asked, "And that means what exactly for me?"

"It means that until Sentinel is stable, for Echo's health, it is best if he clings to a healthy and familiar spark signature. We have already started submitting the paperwork so that you can be given time off or light duty while caring for Echo. Now, take the relaxant and lie down, please. A mech's spark is the calmest while recharging and that is the pace we would prefer Echo to have right now. We need him as stable as possible … in case of any emergencies."

Sitting there, jaw moving as if he didn't know what to say, the communication's mech stumbled, "B-but I barely know the kid. I watched him one afternoon. Won't the old mech who brought him in be better? He's the kid's tutor. I don't know the first thing about sparklings."

The medic gave the red mech an ill-amused glance, "First off, he's a youngling, not a sparkling. Secondly, it's your own fault for picking him up. He's now mimicking your spark pace and we aren't going to risk that by giving him to another handler. Besides, aren't you Sentinel Minor's subordinate anyway? Don't you have any loyalty to him or his creation?"

Wincing at the brisk words, even though he knew the medic was just guilt-tripping him, Cliffjumper tried not to pout. He owed Sentinel this much he supposed. What was a little sparkling-sitting anyway? He might also be able to get more information this way.

Grumbling under his breath, wincing at the taste of the cube, Cliffjumper buckled down for a nap, the medic making sure Echo remained close to his spark as he situated the two.

"Think of this as a mini-vacation, Agent Cliffjumper. Low-stress expectations and lots of recharge," said Fixit as he covered the two in a thermal sheet. Cliffjumper barely had the capacity to glare, his systems already giving out on him.

Stress-free? Somehow he doubted that. If Echo was anything like his alma, he was going to be trouble.

…

"Okay, all these documents seem to be in order. Honestly, that was really fast for a parental bond approval. You must really be attached to these two to get another physician to move so quickly. Just remember to have the approving medic send in the final review of a solidified bond. Not all types of paperwork can be rushed," said SafetyNet as the femme looked over the digipad in hand once more, the two of them in Restart's recovery room.

Sumdac, if the little bot even have any of his memories, had yet to awake from his comatose-like state. He was at least stable, his EM field frittering around the room like a lazy group of moths. Ratchet might have even called in curious if it wasn't for the obvious fact that the mech was offline.

He had told Sari that he was bringing Restart home today and she had been understandably upset, especially since she would be sharing a room with him. Yes, Ratchet already had plans for a divider, but perhaps it was time to look for a new housing unit. Something bigger and a little closer to the Dead End clinic.

Deep in thought, Ratchet nearly jumped out of his armor when the femme put a hand on his arm, offering a sad smile as she stated, "He'll wake up soon. He's very stable and just needs some time. Don't worry yourself so much, new-alma."

A bit taken aback by the new-alma title, all Ratchet could do was nod not knowing what else to say.

The femme offered one more encouraging squeeze, EM field trying to fill him with reassurance before she added, "Now, don't be surprised if the SSSCA contacts you with any available candidates in your area. A dense spark like yours should be fine at supporting two sparkling bonds for a while, especially if you like getting around, but we definitely encourage fully bonded family units. It's best for the younglings."

Ratchet couldn't help himself, he rolled his optics. And so the madness begins. Hopefully, he wouldn't lure in many suitors with his war-torn and aged form, but you never knew what another bot's tastes were, especially given his notoriety for helping bring down Megatron. Regardless, if somebot really caught his fancy, he wasn't going to turn down a mutually beneficial relationship … though that gave him another reason to start domicile shopping: their current apartment was too cramped and offered little in the way of privacy. He really wasn't ready for that full chat with Sari even though he was sure she already had an idea of what Cybertronian reproduction entailed.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the gig," finally said Ratchet, stretching for a moment, his joints popping before he transformed in an ambulance, "Would someone put the young-bot in my back? Its time for us to go home."

One of the medical caregivers nodded and complied, Safteynet watching the whole time before stating, "I'll walk you out. We'll drop by in an orn to make sure everything is settling well."

Shifting his tires, Ratchet grunted, "I'll see you then. Or maybe not ... I may have a new address by then."

SafetyNet gave him a confused look, but Ratchet was already driving down the call, chuckling to himself.

...

A few klicks later he was driving down the road, his mind running on med settings, home care, and new housing units. He almost groaned in irritation when his comms came to life, Breakdown's signature written all over it. He might have ignored it entirely while driving if it hadn't been marked as urgent.

= This is Ratchet, = finally replied the medic, expecting something inane and irritating.

= You slagger! You sold me out as soon as you had what you wanted! I should have known! Autobots are never loyal. Never! Well, I'm burning this place to the ground. I won't let you have my clinic! = came the comm, Breakdown's rage nearly causing the elder medic to run into the curb.

= Whoa! Whoa! Young bot, calm down. Ignore your inner arsonist for a moment. What the frag is this about? Is this because I changed some of the providers? Come on kid, I'm the new Unit Head, I should be able to change suppliers without you going off the deep end. =

= I don't give a frag about suppliers! You turned me in to the Autotroopers! I was informed they are heading to my clinic right now. Slagger! I trusted you! = interrupted Breakdown, the rage and hurt almost malleable.

Unable to take the barrage of information, Ratchet pulled over, = What? I did no such thing. I'd be an accomplice, you halfwit. There has to be another reason. Maybe the registration caused this because the previous Unit Head was hardly legal. So, calm down. I'll head over there right now, but I need you to remain calm. We can't panic, especially if it's over nothing. =

There was silence on the other side of the line, before Breakdown's response came across, = What can an old fragger like you do? I'm fragged. It's over … but at least I might get to see my endura one last time before they offline me. =

Sighing, trying to press as much comfort as he could into the conversation, Ratchet continued, = You'll see your endura again, kid. Just not right now, alright? First off, you changed all the med files over to use the medical ID of your physician coding, right? Not your name? =

= I've always fraggen done that. Knock Out made me. =

= Good, he was a smart mech. That way none of the records are attached to your designation personally … as long as you erase that illegal medical coding that is, = said Ratchet carefully, knowing full well that all hell was about to break loose.

= You want me to do fraggen what?! =

XXX

Paw07: Hello all, I'm alive. Covid didn't get me. At least not yet. XD