"Cleaning time for you, Bee!" Sideswipe exclaims as soon as the Beetle gets back to root form, Spike trying to keep his snickers silent by his side.
"Not fair! You weren't carrying a human!" The Minibot answers back, gesturing to the teenager, to explain the results of the race.
"Are you saying I'm fat?!"
When all the Autobots do is stay silent and look at him with blank faceplates, Spike's fake indignant expression is replaced by worry.
"Huh, guys? I was joking."
"I don't get it."
"Neither do I." Both Cybertronian exchange a look before turning back to the human. "You are aware of the composition of your body, aren't you?"
"Yeah, you aren't completely made of fat."
In the end, Ratchet ends up having to come outside when Spike can't get up from the ground, laughing so hard that he ends up crying and having to fight to take some deep breaths.
The Autobots aren't amused.
In fact, those crowding around him are more panicked than anything else.
Until the Medic manages to patch the story together between his gasped words and the hysterical Bumblebee and Sideswipe.
Then, to everyone's utter astonishment, the ambulance laughs too.
Well, it's a snort and a smile, but it's more than enough to cut through Spike's mirth to leave him as shocked as his alien friends.
"These humans and their underdeveloped communication skills." He fondly lets out as he shakes his helm, before turning to his usual serious self. "Alright, nothing to see, get back to your posts!"
Still confused, the Autobots go back inside.
Minus Bumblebee, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, of course.
"Is he alright?" The Minibot quickly asks, not daring approach the boy while Ratchet is still by his side.
"Yes, he is. He was just laughing."
"But his optics were leaking! Doesn't that happen when they're damaged or sad?" The red twin questions in a mix of confusion and worry, and the teenager smiles widely.
"It can happen when we're happy too." He answers instead of the Medic, and the four Autobots seem to relax, some more visibly than others.
"I still don't get the 'fat' joke." The Beetle comments as they head inside, more confident now that Ratchet is still with them, in case something happens to his organic friend.
"It means being overweight. Does that happen with you too?" Spike asks as his mind catches up with a possible reason for their ignorance.
"Duh, of course. It's what happens when you get a heavier armor upgrade, or carry too much junk in your subspace." Sunstreaker answers, and the dirty look his brother gives him makes the teenager snort.
Before he realizes what has been said.
"Subspace?"
"The Cybertronian equivalent of a pocket." The Medic replies with a plating shrug, and, skeptical, Spike looks him over. "It's not physical, so stop giving me that look. Now, how do I explain it so that you could understand…"
The twins exchange a look before, quietly, falling behind—and escaping around the first corner they find.
"All matter is composed of atoms, and these atoms are, essentially, like a snow globe." The boy looks up at the ambulance, who is still staring ahead as he thinks things through. "A figurine in the center, a glass sphere surrounding it and snow particles floating inside. Very vaguely, that would be an atom, only, instead of glass keeping the snow inside, it will be the attraction caused by the figurine, as if it was a magnet and the particles, smaller ones with both polarities present. They would be attracted to the figurine, but the opposing polarity would keep them away from it at the same time." Pondering a bit, the teenager visualizes it, nodding when he sees it clearly. "Now, you can push two magnets of opposing polarity together with enough force. Our subspace, essentially, is that force."
And… the mental image of a snow globe shatters.
"What? Didn't you say it was a pocket?"
"And it is." Before Spike can protest, Ratchets lifts a hand, silently telling him to wait and listen. "It is both. It is the force that pushes those two opposites together of every atom of what you store in it, compressing the object almost to non-existence."
"Really?" The boy whispers, mouth having fallen open and legs no longer carrying him down the corridor.
So, the Medic stops and turns around with an amused smile.
"Really."
The teenager bounces back to his side excitedly, thinking about the times Autobots and Decepticons alike seemed to pull something seemingly out of thin air.
"Unfortunately, its very nature implies there are some things that would never be able to be subspaced without it resulting in severe damage, like living matter."
"Living matter?" Spike repeats with a confused frown, not thinking twice about following the ambulance inside the Repair Bay.
"That composing life forms, be they organic or mechanical. Up to an extent, of course." The Medic explains, grabbing the boy and putting him on a table before he starts to order the tools on it. "Organics are chaotic and unstable creatures, and more heavily damaged the further developed they are. To subspace one of you rodents or lagomorphs would mean its deactivation." He adds, optics darkening in seriousness, and the teenager shivers at the words. "But living metal can be subspaced, as long as it is the mech's own, for we can easily block or disengage any important lines and wires in the parts meant to be subspaced, leaving them as barely more than sheets of inert metal."
"Wow… So you can, like, take a finger off and put it in subspace?" Ratchet's engine purrs in amusement as he shakes his head.
"No, I can't. Only some parts are meant to be subspaced, and my dactyls aren't precisely it. Think about it, Spike. What part of a mech can you see in one mode, but not in another?"
Lost in thought, it takes the boy about five minutes to find an answer to that, during which the Medic has taken out some files that he's intently reading and modifying.
"Prime's trailer!"
"That would be one, yes, though not necessarily it. Then again, it isn't as if you know enough mechanics to know differently." The white mech smiles as he says that, though, so Spike's triumphant grin doesn't vanish. "Now, every Cybertronian has some parts, no matter how small, that are meant to be subspaced at one point or another. The delicate optic lenses, per example, are almost always subspaced when in alt mode." He adds, tapping the corner of a blue optic to reinforce his words.
And then, the teenager thinks back to another quite impressive characteristic of some mechs that might be easily explained by the topic at hand.
"How about those that change sizes? Like Perceptor and Skyfire?"
But Ratchet wiggles a dactyl in front of his face in a negative, despite still being smiling, and confusion takes hold of the boy.
"Now, that's a really good question, but the answer is not subspace."
"It isn't?"
"No, it's not." The Autobot repeats with amusement, and the human sits down to continue listening more comfortably. "Take Skyfire. His alt mode's a transport shuttle. It's big, yes, and more so when he has to carry us, but most of it? Cargo bay. Empty space. He just needs to fold the chassis, and all that space vanishes, leaving an average Shuttle mech." Holding back the urge to facepalm, Spike just nods with a grimace, and the Medic's engine purrs in soft chuckling. "Now, you could argue that Perceptor is the inverse case, with his root mode being the one with extra space, but if you said so, you would be wrong."
"He's solid?" The ambulance snorts at the choice word, but nods after the boy gives him a sheepish smile.
"He doesn't have any extra empty spaces, if that's what you mean. What he does when he transforms to his alt mode is fold himself tightly, filling all natural spaces and modifying the core components he has no use for to allow the size change."
"But wouldn't that mean he's heavy? I've carried Blaster and Soundwave in their alts, and they don't weight more than the average cassette player!" Spike exclaims, remembering Sunstreaker's comment in the corridor, before the twins got away.
And talking about getting away, when had Bumblebee vanished?
Ratchet's amused snort-rev brings his attention back to the mech instead of looking around for the Minibot who is obviously not there.
"That would be why we have anti-gravs." The Medic answers simply and, this time, Spike does facepalm. "Never noticed before?"
"Never even thought of that. I feel like I should have known all of this long ago." A dactyl pats his head with what feels like amusement, no matter how impossible such a thing seems, and the boy looks up to glare at the still smiling Autobot.
"Well, that's why we're here, Spike. Just ask, and I'll try to answer." Unable to keep up his annoyed front, the teenager beams.
"Thanks, Ratchet."
"Just doing my job." Loud shouting in Cybertronian echoes in the corridor, the roar of high performance engines growing louder as does the angered voice. "And that would be my job too." The Medic grouses, scowling, as he calmly walks to the door, opens it—
And steps into the corridor as the cars approach, the high pitched shriek of tires on metal as the vehicles suddenly break quickly following, and the ambulance's darkened blue optics focus down.
"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker. How nice of you to come by, I needed some help with some supplies in Storage Room C4." The smirk on the Autobot's faceplate can only be defined as positively evil and, for the second time of the day, Spike breaks down laughing.
When he lands flat on his back for the second time, Spike knows he's been defeated.
However, that doesn't mean he can't glare darkly at the innocent red and yellow cassette player sitting on the ground by his feet.
And at the bunch of laughing Autobots surrounding them.
"Giving up already, Spike?" Blaster asks happily and, with a huff, the boy sits up.
"Yeah, I am. You're heavy." He grumbles back, as the Communications Officer returns to root mode and mimics his position on the ground, legs crossed Indian style.
"Actually, I'm quite light for a Cybertronian." More laughter follows that statement, and the human glares around again, arms folded against his chest.
"Well, I'm not a Cybertronian. Even your 'lightest' would feel heavy to me, same as your 'smallest' is still quite big." He answers, shrugging, frown slowly turning from annoyance to curiosity as excited chatter spreads through the observing Autobots.
"We should make gag videos!" Bluestreak exclaims suddenly, and some others nod in agreement.
"Gag videos? What do you mean?"
"You know, those short scenes in those programs that show pranks being played on people on the street and being filmed and then send to the TV programs." The Doorwinger explains happily, and Spike has to laugh when he realizes what he's talking about.
"With Blaster?"
"I can already see it." Sideswipe's mystified voice quickly attracts all gazes to the red mech, blue optics shining excitedly. "Spike walking down the street with Blaster in one hand and a bag in the other. Suddenly, he trips and falls, and the good human walking next to him stops to help him up and retrieve his fallen cargo. Spike grabs the bag, and the other human grabs Blaster, but! He can't lift him!" Laughter starts to mingle with his words as the red frontliner gestures wildly. "No matter what he does, he can't move Blaster from where he's fallen! And then, Spike grabs Blaster as if he weighed nothing and just walks away!" Even the boy is shaking with mirth at that, imagining the faces on the unsuspecting prank victim. "It will be awesome!"
"We could do it with yourself!" The Cassette Carrier answers back, and Sideswipe's dumbfounded expression makes the laughter increase. "Get Carly in it, as the poor girl whose wallet or purse has been thrown under the car, out of reach, and she asks someone to help her get it. But nobody can until Spike shows up, lifts Sideswipe and grabs the purse! And then, he just puts the car down, and he and the girl walk away hand in hand!"
A second later, half of the present Autobots are sitting down as they try to keep their roaring laughter under control.
"Both! We have to do both!" The red twin squeaks once they have all recovered, hunched over himself as he sits cross-legged next to the human and Communications Officer.
"I was just joking. You know I'm more of a radio mech." Blaster answers, leaning back with a cocky smirk.
"Aw, come on! It would be The Voice's debut on TV!"
"I'd rather The Voice didn't appear as prank material, thank you very much."
"Who is The Voice?" Spike asks after a moment listening to the friendly banter.
Despite the smile still on his face, Blaster turns… more subdued. Somber.
It doesn't help that impression that the rest of Autobots suddenly go silent, observing them almost solemnly.
And then, the Communications Officer straightens, a determined expression on his face, and the teenager finds himself holding his breath in anticipation.
"Forget your 'never retreat, never surrender'. That's a given, something imprinted in Autobot essential coding. No, I'm talking loud, proud, and only stop swinging one moment after you're already deactivated. That's how we'll beat 'em." He can see, out of the corner of his eye, how the others in the room straighten, awe allowing him to let out a soundless sigh as Blaster… talks. "You hear me, Autobots, you go out there today and give 'em Pit! Just remember, big those 'Cons may be, but they're not clever. We got the moves! The smarts! The spirit! Nothing and no one… is ever gonna stop us!" The whole room seems to cheer along its occupants, fists pumping up to mimic the Cassette Carrier's, and even the human finds himself with his arm lifted when he cares to notice. "You'll fight. You'll resist. You'll overcome. You're Autobots. That's what we do. There's a moment in everyone's function when they look inside themselves and find that solid, hard core that can't be corrupted, or broken, or trampled. It happens when it's darkest, when we're alone and in pain and afraid, that we find it. That's when we understand who we truly are. Who are you?"
"Autobots!"
And the mix of voices, engines and what sounds like a rain of boulders as the mechs stomp hard finally break the boy out of his awed and determined state as he finds himself falling back to the ground with a yelp.
Blaster's laughter calms the situation a bit, though it's easy to see how pumped up the other Cybertronian still are with just a glance.
"And that, my dear Spike, is The Voice." The Communications Officer answers simply once the human finally sits up again.
"That was amazing! How did you do that?"
"I'm just that good." Blaster smirks easily, plating moving in a nonchalant shrug, as the room slowly empties, the Autobots excitedly chattering between themselves in Cybertronian.
"I didn't know you did that, you know, those inspirational speeches." And, once more, the red and yellow mech grows more subdued, though this time by what seems like sadness.
"Yeah, well. At the beginning of the war, when it was all out fighting… this kind of thing was doable. But after the Decepticons started pushing us back, wining more and more of Cybertron… We had to go in hiding, we became more of a guerrilla than a real front. This kind of transmissions would have given out our location." He explains, and Spike finds himself looking away at the defeated tone in the Communications Officer's voice.
And he understands it.
He's seen how his small speech invigorated the other Autobots, can imagine how much good it did in war times. To be forced to stop, to no longer be able to help like that…
The teenager jumps upright, a bright grin slowly spreading across his face as an idea grows in his mind.
Blaster looks curious and the slightest bit cautious when he rushes to him, leaning against his ankles to be able to whisper without the other Cybertronian in the room hearing.
When the Cassette Carrier leans down, the boy's smirk grows wider.
"The Decepticons already know our location, and it isn't as if they can do anything about it." He says simply, and watches.
Blue optics slowly pale as realization dawns and, with a small hopeful smile turning into an awed one, the Communications Officer grabs the boy and stands up.
They don't speak as the red and yellow mech walks down the corridor to the bridge, simply nod to those they meet, but never stopping to talk.
Optimus and Prowl look up when the door opens, but they don't ask nor stop Blaster as the Cassette Carrier leaves Spike on the communications console before starting to fiddle with the keys.
Instead, they watch curiously, with Ratchet joining them when he enters the room, his open mouth closing as the Medic seems to feel that something is about to happen.
When the sound of clicking keys stop, the teenager turns to watch the Communications Officer straighten in a show of strength and plain, simple righteousness.
And then, one last key is pressed, and all computers in the room have a small screen pop up in a corner, showing Blaster and Spike on the console, both with shit-eating grins.
The boy's only widens when he realizes that the phenomena isn't restricted to the bridge, but that screens all over the Ark have to be showing them too.
"You heard it here first! The Voice… is back!" Optics flash in surprise, but none of the other officers says anything. "I'll be broadcasting live to all Autobot outposts, a fully amped audio-visual shot to the system, a guaranteed tonic for the troops! So get those flags unfurled and your receptors ready for my patented patriotic patter, the next glorious era of Autobot ascendancy… starts here!" Prowl's doorwings twitch, a small smile trying to grow on his lips, while Ratchet doesn't even try to hide his own proud wide grin. "Lister up, sharpshooters—this is Blaster, bringing you the word to the wise, the chatter that matters. It seems words like 'impossible' and 'insurmountable' have crept into the Autobot lexicon while I've been away, so I'm making it my first order of business to reinvigorate the vocabulary of victory. So say after me, we will triumph, we will resist, we will overcome, we will plumb depths of resolve and self-belief we thought were out of reach! And in the dark times ahead, that faith in our own, personal well of fortitude and resilience will light our path to a glorious destiny, win or lose, live or die, nothing and no one… is ever gonna stop us!" And, fist pumped up, Spike finds himself repeating that last sentence, buzzing with energy from just some words, and knowing that he did the right thing by helping Blaster notice that small detail of their situation on Earth, because the Cassette Carrier is almost bursting at the seams with pride and the knowledge that he can help his fellow Autobots again with something that he loves.
Optimus may be wearing his mask, but when the boy meets his optics, he knows he's giving him a proud and thankful smile.
AN: Alright, first of all, my apologies for the late update. Real Life circumstances and the fact that this chapter didn't want to be written threw me out of schedule. Fortunately, I've finally managed to wrestle it into shape, and I've got my writing time back, so it shouldn't happen again (emphasis on shouldn't, I can't promise it won't).
That said, I apologize yet again for the short chapter, but, as stated above, this was all I managed to get from this.
Now, as some of you may have noticed, Blaster's speeches aren't mine, I got them from IDW's Spotlight: Blaster, with some modifications, of course.
Also, I updated the previous chapters. Only the first has suffered 'major' changes, since there was a contradiction with my headcannon in it, though you don't need to read it again if you understand what was explained in the following chapters, especially the issue of 'Femme' being a frame type and 'mech' the Cybertronian equivalent of 'dude/man/guy'. The rest only have grammar corrections, so no biggie there.
And... I think that's all I had to say.
Thanks for your patience, hope you enjoy, or at least don't dislike too much, this chapter, and hope to read from you all if you decide to review!