Notes: I had actually planned to have a part with Starscream in this chapter, but decided that the ending of it was so right that i will work with that in next chapter instead.
Inspirational music: "Broken Bonds" and "You And I" by BrunuhVille (Find him on You Tube), Really good instrumental compositions setting feelings in motion. I honestly can cry when i listen to Broken Bonds.
No Warnings, except sparkbreaking sadness(at least for me.:))
Empty optics stares into nothingness even as they are focused on the black and purple frame on the berth right in front of him.
How could he…
He is the protector, the one to shield others from harm, not cause it.
Ever since he came to this future all his instincts has been screaming at him. Even if the Autobots are fighting for peace and the right to freedom for all, he has been torn. He is a warrior, maybe the only true one among the ranks on both sides. Following honor codes and rules created during a war happening so very, very long ago. If anyone had told him that there would come a time where cybertronian would turn against cybertronian, he wouldn't have believed it, but he is living it now.
And they are so few.
If…
If Quintessa decides to attack…
He shudders at the thought of being forced into servitude again. To be used as… NO! He doesn't want to think about it.
The only knowledge easing his spark is the fact that there are others out there if Ratchet is right. And he can only hope they still remain free and haven't been captured by their ancient enemy.
There is safety in numbers.
That was one of the reasons for why they couldn't stay in their old frames. The old way of reproduction took time, almost a vorn before the new creation would emerge from its carrier, and when that happened the real work began. Each creation was as mindless as they all had been before sentience slowly worked its way into the processor. And even if the process of developing sentience had been encouraged directly, it still took time before they had a sentient independent transformer.
It was time and energy consuming.
And their enemies still lurked out there, vanquished from Cybertron, but still a very palpable threat even as reduced and weakened as they had become now that their leadership had been decimated to nothing.
The breakthrough came when a scouting team, sent deep down below the surface of the planet returned with tales of marvelous wonders. They had found a chamber, impossibly large, the ceiling held up by hundreds of pillars, lit up from a power source in its center and thrumming with power.
And it had spoken.
Vector Sigma was like a gift from a deity they yet had to worship.
Sunstorm, an impossibly yellow-golden serkhar had been on the team, and he never really regained sanity after his meeting with the super computer in the center of the planet.
The thinkers had come together, had ventured to the chamber and had talked to this being. When they returned, determination and eagerness if not outright giddiness had been in their fields and they took the first the best building and locked themselves inside for almost two weeks, only coming out to refuel.
During those two weeks new frame types were developed, designed to suite the ground bound or serkhar.
In the time following, they repurposed the old quintessonian technology and began producing the frames, then brought them to Vector Sigma, who as promised granted the empty shells sparks and instant sentience. The newsparked creations would grow into adults with time and still needed to learn basic knowledge, but at least they didn't have to go through the consuming process of developing sentience anymore.
As population grew and a society formed and flourished, with several city-states being formed, the ancient transformers became aware of their distancing to the society they had created. They stood out, were more or less worshipped as deities because of their history, and because of that became more and more isolated.
The only solution had been for them to vanish from sight, blend in among everyone else and be forgotten.
Rachïar had performed the transfers secretly in his medical bay in Iacon. One after one the old war heroes disappeared as they took new names with their new frames.
The only one remaining became the sole focus of all the attention. Isolating himself behind the protective walls of his city-state, protected by his Winglord, he found his call in life while still watching over the peaceful post-war society. Slowly re-socializing he found his one true call in educating the new generations of seekers.
Seekers just like Skywarp. Just like Starscream. Just like countless others.
Young seekers he had vowed to protect the instant he decided to take up the mantle of teaching.
A vow he has broken. The evidence is right in front of him, frame battered and broken because of Thundercracker.
His spark contracts painfully in its chamber, a lone tear trails down his cheek unnoticed. His optics are distant, unseeing but yet seeing. Memories flow through his processor. Starscream dissatisfied with the answers, arguing with him. Skywarp, optics bright with mischief and Thundercracker knows to be wary. Skywarp and Starscream in flight together, the pair like made for each other. Every other seeker he has ever teached is just bleak contours in his memories compared to the pair.
Then a smell works its way into his awareness and it triggers some repressed memories and he forces himself out of his trance-like state to the here and now, something in the back of his processor screaming for his attention.
The scent of energon lingers faintly in the air, sweet and delicate.
It is the scent of pure and filtrated energon, not the kind you consume to refuel, but the kind running in a mech's lines.
The fact alarms him even more, long before the monitor keeping track of Skywarps systems indicates something to be wrong. As he stares down at the black and purple seeker a single thin trail of energon begins the make its way out from under the prone frame, moving towards the edge of the berth. The flow is slow, almost sluggish, but increases exponentially. When it reaches the edge, it hesitates for a second, almost as if examining it, before it spills over the edge and flows down the side of the berth. Reaching the underside of the berth it gathers to a large drop before it releases its grip on the surface and drips onto the floor.
Three more drops follows the first before Thundercracker manages to break free of the entrancing sight. Looking up from the floor his wings rises in panic at the sight of the energon welling up from inside Skywarp, the open chestplates giving him a clear indication of the situations severity.
Something has gone wrong, and Skywarp is bleeding out.
It is first then that the monitor begins to blare in a shrill alarm, the pressure in the energon line leading away from the fuel pump falling below the threshold and activating the alert.
"RATCHET!" the blue seeker roars, as if he doesn't believe the shrill sound of the alarm to rouse the medic from whatever the CMO is doing. His fingers are moving reflexively at his sides, he need to do something, anything, but he isn't a medic and he don't know what to do.
A swoosh of the door and Ratchet is at the berth instantly.
"What did you do?!" the medic furiously demands, laser scalpel already in his hand and slicing into the seeker's front plating to lay the fuel pump bare.
"Nothing. I promise you Ratchet. I just suddenly smelled the energon." Thundercracker explains in a voice showing his panic. His optics widens when the cut into the plating causes more energon to spill from inside the black and purple seeker, soaking the berth in a nightmarish sight of vital fluids.
"Frag! It's a weld tear!" The CMO curses, "Firstaid, medical bay NOW!" he then roars on the open com line ignoring the fact that he alerts everyone in the whole base to the emergency.
When the cause of the emergency is laid bare, Thundercracker almost feels like purging. There is a tear the length of his little finger in the large energon line, located almost at its connection to the fuel pump. He can see where Ratchet has patched the wound with several layers of welds as well as clamps to help ease the healing. The pressure in the line this close to the fuel pump is simply too great for the welds to hold and has slowly worn away on the wielding until the patch broke.
"You. OUT!" Ratchet commands the blue seeker when the door opens to accommodate Firstaid.
When Thundercracker just keeps standing there, looking, completely paralyzed, Ratchet looks up, optics narrowed. "If you want him to survive Thundercracker, I would suggest you leave now!" the CMO growls dangerously.
At the tone Thundercracker flinches out of his state and still perplex he stumbles towards the door, passing Firstaid who gently pats him on the shoulder as the medic moves to take the blue seeker's spot at the side of the berth and instantly begins to assist Ratchet.
"If this keeps happening we will need to perform a transplant-…" is the last Thundercracker hear Ratchet voice to Firstaid before the door closes and locks him out.
The words send a chill down his backstrut.
After spark and processor surgery, a fuel pump transplant is one of the most dangerous medical procedures. The fuel pump is such an essential part, that the frame technically is dead during the procedure. The spark is kept stable on the support of several machines mimicking the function of a fuel pump, while the rest of the frame already begins the deteriorating when the pump is disconnected. The longer the procedure takes, the greater is the risk that the mech isn't going to wake up due to severe damages in the processor. If any mistake happens it is almost always fatal.
And Ratchet's comment makes it crystal clear that this isn't the first time the weld tear has happened.
Supporting himself shakily against a berth, Thundercracker stares at the closed door. He can faintly hear Ratchet's voice through it, and can imagine how the medic is cursing vividly as he fights against the major energon loss in the seeker.
Once again his awareness drifts, seeking refuge in the safety of his processor. He is unaware of the time passing, or the world outside himself. He doesn't hear when the door to the medical bay gently swooshes open, or the thrusters walking in. He doesn't even feel the fields sidling against his own as the mechs stops just behind him, not obscuring the door and the battle being fought behind it.
"Thundercracker, Sir?" The voice is soft as Silverbolt tries to draw the blue seeker's attention to him and Air Raid.
A small tremble in the blue wings is the only response, but it is a response and both Aerialbots patiently waits for the Air Commander to come out of his state.
"Are you okay, Sir?" Air Raid asks when the tremble in the wings increases, almost turning into violent shakes. He can feel Silverbolt's deadpan comment through their bond at his question. Does the seeker look like he is okay when shaking like that?
"Do you need us to help you back to your quarters, Sir?" Silverbolt asks gently, resting one of his hands lightly on a blue shoulder to not startle the blue seeker at the touch.
He doesn't expect Thundercracker to collapse to the floor, or the distorted field flashing against his own, filling him with so much raw emotion.
"St-Starscream…" Thundercracker utters in a voice so pained. 'He is never going to forgive me this if Skywarp dies.'
"He shouldn't see you like this. You shouldn't be with him when you are this distressed. We can take you back to our quarters until you are more stable." The Aerialbot offers, but his voice for once holds an authority daring the Air Commander to protest against. And Silverbolt knows, or hopes, that Thundercracker is reasonable enough to see logic in not showing the decepticon seeker such vulnerability. It would just be asking the decepticon to take advantage.
Ignoring the small protest from the blue seeker as he and Air Raid steps in front of the berth and gently supports the deeply emotionally distraught seeker to his thrusters, he leads them out the med bay door and towards their quarters.
"It is going to be okay, Sir. Don't worry. Have faith in Ratchet." Silverbolt murmurs encouragingly, hoping to ease some of the distress in their commanding officer. They have never before seen him like this. Always has he been the calm, stoic and at times stern instructor, who have helped them improve so much in the air during his time with them.
Soon Thundercracker is the center of a mesh of reassuring, comforting fields, while warm thrumming frames either embraces him or cuddles in close to his own. Through walloping guilt and spark breaking fear and sorrow he manages to feel slightly exasperated, but soon has to give in to the honest comfort he is given and enters a dreamless recharge.
I'm sure you might wonder how Thundercracker, a war hero can be so affected, but remember that the war he fought was against the Quintessons, this is fellow cybertronians killing each other, and he has just caused what in his processor as well as function is a great transgression...especially with how he still sees himself as a protector of his fellows, not only the ancients.
The big question now is: Is Skywarp going to die? Does he need that transplant? Will he survive it and if so, completely unscattered then?