Chapter 2: Troubled Younglings

It had not been a surprise, really it hadn't, when Scorponok was woken from a well needed recharge by a strangling cry, his body suddenly being smacked off of a warm surface. Lying on his back, half buried in the sand, and more than a little grumpy that his new master had just thrown him aside, the drone just laid there on his back for a moment, his many legs up in the air like a dead bug. He listened patiently to his new fuel source panic and scooted as far from him as he could. Slowly, with an irritated whine, Scorponok used his tail to do a power flip, and he was quickly to his many feet and looking at his new master.

His new host wasn't much to look at, shivering and sniveling like a lost sparkling. He was even trying to crane backwards and see what had been done to his back. Scorponok didn't see why. The host's systems were rather well off and healing nicely now that his systems knew what the hole was for. Besides, the port was well hidden between the two wing-like extensions on his master's back, and in time a plate would arrange itself over it after his next transformation to alt mode. No one would be able to tell the difference; except Scorponok that is, being it was his fuel source.

Unfortunately, now completely seeing the Autobot's form in the sunlight, it seemed he wouldn't get to hang onto his host like he usual did. True, there was the whole 'Autobots don't like drones' thing anyway, but there was also the fact that his new master was obviously a youngling. His joints were still easily damaged from large amounts of weight if carried for too long, especially since he hadn't yet gotten all of frame upgrades. Those upgrades would be nice when they eventually came, seeing as grey partner might be large enough to piggyback on, but the whole youngling thing … that was going to suck. He'd never had a partner that was younger than him. Of course, he'd never had an Autobot partner either.

The scorpion-bot made a ckrrr-ing noise finally attracting the Autobot's attention from the once-wound on his back. Well, he just as well's make introductions.

Blue just sat there, his fingers still trying to feel what had been done to him, but now he realized … that the drone was still there. He hadn't merely drill a hole in his back and left him there to die. No, it was just sitting there silently with a bored look in its optics as if it were waiting for something. What-what was going on here? Primus, his back hurt, every system hurt as if his insides had been rearranging themselves as he rested, his spark was even acting strange, and there were hundreds of commands popping up on his hub asking for acceptance. Wh-why did he have these new programs? Hadn't the little monster been trying to steal information, not implant it?

Wait … programs had been uploaded? Did-did the drone implant a part of himself?

A sickness suddenly came over the gunner as he read the command requests. No it couldn't, there was no way, only-only Decepticon's had drones. That's what every last acceptance message was about. They were for new programs for his … drone.

The gunner lurched forward, his hand slipping over his mouth as the contents in his tank lurched upward as the realization hit him. He had a drone. Autobots didn't have drones! Could he even call himself an Autobot anymore? The mech suddenly couldn't keep his tank still and his system lurched upward, forcing the energon out of his tank, over his denta, and through his fingers. The youth struggled to keep the rest of the contents that weren't dripping through his fingers down, yet it was not meant to be. The tremors kept slamming into his abdominal region and with a gurgling sound of a sputtering engine, Bluestreak fell forward onto his hands and knees. Soon, a choking sputtering noise filled the desert's landscape, the grey mech releasing the contents of his tank again.

What a waste of good energon. That was all that the symbiot thought as he watched the blue glowing liquid drip into the sand and disappear into nothing more than a wet spot. He didn't blame his new master though. Half of his insides were slowly rearranging themselves. It had to be disorienting and probably painful. Suddenly feeling bad, the drone to see if he could comfort his new master. When Blackout had taken him in, Scorponok had sent a comforting effecting through the bond. It relaxed the spark and forcing the new host's mind elsewhere. But first he had to get closer. The bond was far too young for him to do such a thing without nearly being on top of his master or plugging in.

Crawling forward, a good deed in mind, the drone gained his master's gaze again. He chirp in wonder, but only got a frightened whine from the youngling.

"G-get away," cried the youth as he scrambled, grab something out of the sand, and threw a rock at the scorpion being. The drone dodged it, of course. Despite himself, a whine escaped the grey mech at this, and he hurriedly tried to crawl up a sand dune and away from his un-welcomed partner, a sobbing noise escaped his engine the whole time.

Scorponok merely rubbed his claws together in confusion as he tilted his head. That had not been what he was expecting when his new host would eventually wake up. Yes, distress would be normal for a forced uplink, but this was far beyond that. He was picking up fear from the growing connection between them. This was not the normal fear of confusion: like why his body was acting funny, why he wasn't dead, why his spark felt odd, or why he was being followed by a scorpion-mech about a third of his size. No, his new host and master was scared of something else … it almost felt like the fear one feels about deactivating.

Why would his small master be thinking such a thing? Scorponok was going to protect him, and Bluestreak would protect him in return. It was perhaps a forced symbiotic uplink, but it was still symbiotic in nature.

With a whirl of his tail, the confused drone dived into the earth following not only the rhythmic beat through the young and frail connection but the sound of heavy footsteps as well.

…

Scorponok did not rise to greet the afternoon air.

His new host was greatly stressed and being that the connection was still too immature, he couldn't ask directly what his master was upset about. He would merely have to observe what the cause of this distress was for now. That was always a big problem with finding a new host. As a drone, Scorponok didn't have the ability to speak, but that didn't mean he wasn't sentient like so many Autobots liked to believe when they were shooting at him. He could communicate … only through a bond link. So, his communication was limited to one other being, but this was a symbiotic relationship. Why did he need to talk to anyone else?

And so he observed.

A few klicks passed without many events occurring: a scorpion stung at one of his legs when he had moved to quickly, his master say nothing, the sun rose a little higher in the sky, his master still has nothing, the temperature rose to sweltering temperatures, and still the youth had not uttered a word. If anything, the youngling continued to chirp listlessly until his systems started hiccupping from stress, causing the youth to stop and merely sit there while staring at the sand beneath his fingers.

Nothing was revealed of Bluestreak's distress and that left the drone downcast. He was hoping to win a little favor with his new master after comforting him from whatever was causing the added stress to the Autobot's new situation. There had not been one name cursed, one thing screamed at, or even one death threat to any person. His master was silent in his sorrows. Scorponok wilted at this … were Autobots always so quiet when they were mad? He used to love to watch his old caretakers swear up a fit. Well … unless it had to do with him.

A soft click escaped the worried drone and Scorponok made his ways over to his master, pushing as much comfort as he could though the weak bond. In exchange, the youth let out a soft sob of agony, his crying returned. His cries now mixed with words as he glared at the drone.

"W-why? I don't w-want to be scrap-ped. I-I-I-I don't want t-to be used for spare parts … not again," whimpered the small mech as he pulled his knees into his chest, his door wings falling as a memory thrust itself through the fledgling bond.

It was pooling … pooling everywhere. It was so warm, like-like energon. It was spilling upon the earth in gallons it seemed. It was getting everywhere … and it was on him. Wh-whose energon was this? Who was injured? He was the only one around. He was … a sharp pain finally ran up Bluestreak's form and he looked down. It was his energon. W-where had his legs gone?

The memory ran through Scorponok like hot irons and he couldn't help but cringe backwards like he had just been hit. The first memory they had shared through the bond and it was so painful. It was not unheard of for young mechs to become traumatized from experiences with severe injury. Some would even become frightened of every injury that followed. A Decepticon would die quickly if he didn't get over a fear like that being that they did a lot of their own repairs. Of course weak Autobot sentiments had likely mother-henned the young after his injury and now he was scared of his own wounds.

Shaking off the thought, Scorponok decided he'd deal with it when it came to that, but first he needed to calm his young handler down.

Taking a gasp of cool air into his vents, the drone headed forward. He was probably going to get hit or even kicked once or twice, but he had a feeling that the Autobot would be a lot more gentle about his new situation than if he had forced it on a Con. Pulling himself up to his master, he stilled waiting for the pain.

Nothing came. The youngling just continued to bawl into his legs.

Chirping softly, Scorponok grew more daring and walked a circle around his master. No reaction. Chirping again and rubbing his claws together as if asking permission, he drew closered. When nothing but more wailing escaped the new master, the drone laid down, and wrapped his tail around his master's body as well as he could in the sand.

The grey mech flinched at the sudden touch, now staring in almost a frightened manner down at his new drone. A rather loud whine escaped the youth's engine and he shakily put out a hand and testingly touched the unwanted companion. Then, as if it were a biting test, he used both of his servos to push the symbiot as far as he could away from his body, which, in the end, was only like a yard. Bluestreak then put his head back into his knees and continued his mourning. It was as if saying goodbye to his existence.

Scorponok sat there a moment, staring in shock. Well, that was anticlimactic. Here he was expecting a punch or to at least to be yelled at, but no, just a gentle shove. At least it seemed that this new relationship wasn't going to be painful one, even though his master did have some injury issues. Chirping again, the drone pulled himself up against the Autobot's shin while wrapping his tail all the way around the shivering body, rubbing his head comfortingly against the youth's leg.

And once again, Blue gently shoved him away. The process continued for at least four more times until the youngling finally stopped trying to push the drone away and let the close contact continue, his sobbing commencing. The scorpion-mech merely resumed its earlier mission of trying to be as close as possible to Bluestreak, his form encasing the youth with his tail as he rubbed against the Autobot's leg.

Primus, what was he going to do thought Bluestreak. Th-this thing had drilled into his back and nearly killed him. Now, it wouldn't leave him alone. There was no questioning it now though. The drone had not been trying to kill him last night. Scorponok had obviously been looking for a new host, and Blue had been his ticket. What was he going to do?! Only Decepticons only had drones. It was not an Autobot thing to have a drone. Autobot's didn't have parasitic murderers for pets. He was going to be punished. He knew it! They were going to take parts off of him one at a time … while he was still online … energon pooling everywhere … like last time.

Somehow, Bluestreak kept a flashback at bay.

Finally, too tired to cry, Blue dared to look down at his newest and unwanted partner. The drone looked up at his with his huge optics and chirped. If he didn't know what this thing was capable of, Bluestreak would have thought it cute.

"Why'd you do this to me?" whimpered the youth.

"Currr-Chirp?"

"I'm going to be branded as a traitor … and … and the medics are going to … to … I don't want to die like that!" almost screamed the sniper.

"Kurp?"

"Don't you get it? We are both going to die! One look at me and-and they'll know!"

"Fffrrrrh!"

"We're both going to die and there's –"

"Bluestreak, is that you?" suddenly came a voice over one of the sand dunes. "Come on kid! Scream, making fun of Ratchet's paint color for all I care! Just let me know you're okay!"

Blue went silent, even his vents going still. He didn't know why it didn't cross his mind earlier, but it would make sense that his team was looking for him. He had left last night, never showed up at the base, and it was well into mid-afternoon now. Slag! He had to get out of here before they found him and ripped out his parts one by one until he was a bleeding pile of energon.

Nearly scrambling over the shocked drone who was trying to burrow into the earth, Bluestreak tried to clamor over the top of the other sand dune before Ironhide – yes, only Ironhide would make a crack like that about Ratchet – could see him. He had to get out of here before anyone saw what had happened to –

Clang!

The gunner's spark literally froze as he ran into a heavy metal chest, nearly falling back onto his behind from the force, but two heavy green arms reached out suddenly, keeping him from falling back down the dune. His vents nearly seized as he looked upward into the bright, worried optics of Ratchet. His mind freezing in fear, Bluestreak's knees gave out but the CMO kept him standing while another being blocked him in from behind.

"Ratchet, you found the kid! He okay?" said a tired looking Ironhide as he looked the youngling up and down, his eyes stopping at the kid's mid-back. His optics dulled for a moment … was that dried energon on his back? And what was with his door wings? They seemed to be hiding something. They were bowed far lower and closer to his back than usual. Yet, before he could even think it over, a voice drew him from his thoughts.

"I don't know. Are you alright Bluestreak?" asked Ratchet as he threw a scan over the youngling's form. "You seem … disoriented."

The youngling looked up at him and then behind himself. Where was the gunfire? Where were the cries of traitor? Where was … anything? Daring himself to look downward to see if Ironhide had merely stepped over the drone, the youngling spotted nothing, not even indentations in the sand. H-had he imagined the whole thing?

"Bluestreak? Can you tell me what happened? Do you need immediate medical attention?" said the medic, pulling the youth from his glances at the sand behind them.

"N-no, Ratchet. I-I was just scared. I got lost in the desert last n-night, my comms went down for some reason, and I have been wandering since," said Bluestreak in a drowned tone as he struggled to keep himself from panicking.

The CMO frowned, throwing another scan over the youngling which the youth physically cringed from. There seemed something odd about the youth's systems, but he really couldn't concentrate on that when something far more important came to light. The elder mech quickly let go of the youth who was now supporting himself, opening a compartment in his leg as he pulled out a glowing blue cube.

"You must have," said Ratchet as he placed the cube in the gunner's shaking hands. "You're energy levels are extreme low youngling, and there seems to be something wrong with your systems. Here, sit down before you fall down, and let me plug into a medical port. From my outer scans your spark seems slightly distressed. The heat might have gotten to you or you comms. I –"

The gunner's wings tightened and he nearly crushed the cube in his hand. He quickly swallowed, knowing the medic would know something was wrong right away if he got even a peak at his systems. H-he couldn't let Ratchet touch him … He never wanted another medic touching him ever again.

"N-no, I'm just tired Ratchet. Can we just get back to the others, I'm exhausted," whispered the grey mech as he took a step closer towards the Weapon's Specialist, his optics taking on a frightened glimmer.

It was not a look that didn't go unnoticed by the medic and neither did the dried energon on the youth's back as Ironhide helped the shivering kid down the sand dune. Something had happened last night. Something bad enough that for the first time in his life ... Bluestreak wished to be silent. Not that Ratchet was too worrie . He always found everything out. Always.

XXX

Paw07: Trust me. There is a huge part of the plot behind that partial memory Bluestreak had. It's going to be sad when you figure it out as well. Bring on the angst!

(Revisions March 2016)