Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Transformers except my OC's.

Like what you see? Ask before you take.

In this installment, we learn a little about Cybertronian physiology….

And, since it will be used later in this chapter, here's the research from Chapter Five that I did:

Astrosecond - .498 seconds

Joor – 8 hours

Orn – 2 weeks

Vorn – 83 years

Note: I am starting my internship in a few days. I have six AP exams to study for. I have to get ready for the military academy. I will not be updating for a long while. But when I do, expect a monster of a chapter. It's all about Chromia's past. By my calculations, it'll be anywhere from 10k – 20k words. I won't be updating but I can respond to PMs and reviews, so I won't totally disappear on y'all.

See y'all in a couple of weeks. :D

EDIT: I had to manually replace all of my dividers. I was going to update, but since ff decided to EAT my hyphens, I must go and fix everything before I can update. Look for an extra chapter or two at the beginning once I get around to it. I started a side story for Nightshade's adventures as a mech, but...I'm just going to stick them in as interludes.

Ratchet purred softly in his sleep, his foot twitching slightly in time with his dream sequence. His computing center must have shorted somewhere because the image regulator was not functioning as it should have been. Now, Cybertronians had 'dreams' just like humans did, except theirs were a bit more predictable. If a Cybertronian particularly enjoyed a certain image or video, they could transfer the file over to a folder and randomize the sequence in which they were played. If the delicate fuse that connected the circuitry to its regulating chip blew, then the files would meld together and create a messy, indecipherable jumble of images and sounds. This was easily fixed, but it had rather interesting effects on the 'dreaming' subject. Tonight, Ratchet's fuse had been jostled loose. His sequence was now regulated in some areas. In some places, the files had been temporarily corrupted…

…he was running as quickly as he could. His footsteps clanged against the cobblestones beneath his feet. The clouds above him were acid-green and sickly paint-like swirls on the sky. Red lightning flashed from those clouds, illuminating the eerie landscape around him. One bolt hit him and he leapt into the air, batting at the sparks dancing over his frame…except his armor was melting! Ratchet ran for the lake in the distance, maybe if he jumped in it, the melting would stop - he tripped over something and he looked behind himself. It was a gnarled oak tree root, jutting up out of the path. He pushed himself up on his hands…and then he looked at his hands. They weren't his! He grimly realized that his armor had melted completely off, leaving nothing but a human shell behind! He began running once more, searching for someone to help him. Suddenly, a group of human femmes appeared from a nearby patch of trees. They began laughing at him and pointing.

"Help me!"

"Look at him!"

"What are you laughing at?!"

He looked down. Then he looked up at the sky and growled.

He hated dream sequences where he was only in his protoform.

"NO!"

Ratchet shot up out of the berth, ignoring Nightshade's squeak of surprise. He darted into the bathing area and in front of the mirror. He ran his hands down his armor. Good, everything was in place. His armor felt strong and solid and reassuring underneath his fingertips. He let out a shuddering sigh of relief, sagging against the counter. Nightshade peeped around the corner warily.

"Are you alright, Ratchet?"

He turned a serious optic over at the femme and spoke softly.

"I need to have my image regulator looked at."

00000

Moon Racer snickered as Ratchet relayed the dream sequence to her. Currently, she was kneeling on the surgical table beside Ratchet. She was too short to stand beside Red Alert and comfortably peer into what she was operating on. Red Alert was standing beside her, keeping a watchful optic on the femme's hands. Ratchet growled as Moon Racer's hand tinkered around inside his chest, pushing aside wires and cables with no regard to his discomfort. She reached further into his chest cavity, up to her elbow in the wires and circuits.

"Moon Racer, pay attention. That cable in your hand is the main motor cable. Follow it down until it reaches the main abdominal support strut."

"Alright…wait. Is this it?

"No, Moon Racer. Those are his lateral chest support structures. Try again."

Ratchet almost whimpered at the thought of Moon Racer's inexperience with advanced procedures. What had he done to deserve this, again? Moon Racer finally huffed and scooted closer beside Ratchet, using both hands to push aside the jumble of wires.

"When was the last time you had these organized," Moon Racer muttered, casting a dark look over at the reclining medic. Ratchet shrugged his shoulders. In normal Cybertronians, regular maintenance meant that cables and lines would be sorted and bundled together to minimize confusion during operations. However, the wires in Ratchet's chest vaguely resembled an electrocuted bird's nest.

"Is this it, Red?"

"Yes, now gently – I said gently! Follow it to the main abdominal support struts. You can't miss it, Moon Racer," Red Alert said gently, guiding the femme's hands. Ratchet groaned softly – had he really been that inexperienced while he was a rookie? Moon Racer shot him a dark glare, accidentally slipping and grazing his fuel tank with her elbow. Ratchet yelped in pain.

"Moon Racer!"

"What," the femme said, exasperated. Red Alert rolled his optics and continued with his lecture.

"The fuse should be on the dorsal side of the strut. It will be contained in a fluid-proof box."

"Is the box white and mostly opaque?"

"Yes," Ratchet answered snippily, shifting uncomfortably as Moon Racer's hands brushed against his fuel tank.

"Keep still, lug head," Red Alert admonished, flicking the side of Ratchet's helm. This earned him a rather low growl.

"I'll show you 'lug head' when you need to be recertified," Ratchet snapped, giving Red Alert the most evil glare that he could. Moon Racer tittered quietly, shifting her perch. Red Alert scrabbled through a drawer before finding the tool he needed.

"Here, Moon Racer. Now use the sharp end to gently pry the lid off."

"I'll be as gentle as Ratchet is with everyone else," Moon Racer snapped, easing the corner of the device into a seam. Then she pushed down, ignoring the yelp of pain from Ratchet.

"Fraggit, femme! What part of 'gentle' do you not understand?!"

"Aw, poor Ratchey-poo," Moon Racer crooned, jabbing the tool in further. With a loud pop, the lid came off. Red Alert took a peek inside, ignoring Ratchet's yelp of pain.

"So that's why your dream sequence was so…interesting," he said, snickering quietly.

"What was wrong," Ratchet asked, trying in vain to look. Red Alert none too gently shoved him back onto the berth, hissing at him to stay still. After a few moments of taking notes and quiet discussion with Moon Racer, Red Alert turned an optic over at Ratchet.

"It was partially connected still," Red Alert said.

"Oh. Alright. Just push it back in and I'll be fine," Ratchet said, waving the mech away.

"No, it needs to be replaced. The polymer is starting to melt."

"Er…go ahead then," Ratchet said, bracing himself for the excruciating pain.

"Moon Racer, on the count of three, I want you to pull the top hard while twisting slightly. One…tw-"

"AAAARGH! MOON RACER!"

"What? I didn't want you to tense up or anything," she said, shrugging and dumping the slightly singed device into a pan. Then she picked up the new one.

"No, I'll put it in. You'll do the next case," Red Alert said hurriedly, rushing over to her side. Noting the evil smirk on her face, he took the device and spare part from her before she would cause Ratchet more pain. Red Alert motioned the femme closer and ignored her pout. Ratchet shot him a silent, grateful look.

"Alright. Taking it out was very easy. Putting it back in is much harder. You have to make sure that these filaments reconnect, or else he'll be back in here…and you'll have to remove it again," Red Alert said, motioning to the delicate wires that adorned the side of the fuse. Moon Racer nodded, showing her understanding.

"And if you have to remove it again, I will not use painkillers on you the next time you need to be serviced, Moon Racer," Ratchet growled, giving her a caustic glare. She stuck her glossa back out at him before turning to watch Red Alert guide the fuse into place. With a dexterity she had never seen before, he twisted his wrist and fingers, sliding the fuse into the port. The fuse clicked into place and began to glow softly.

"Now, we need to use these forceps to snip away the singed ends of the original wiring. You need to remove as little as possible, or else we'll be rewiring his entire system," Red Alert warned, handing Moon Racer the scissors. She nodded and trimmed a miniscule amount from the ends.

Ratchet groaned and stared up at the ceiling. Who knew that the medical terror would be a guinea pig in his own medical bay? Then he vaguely wondered what Nightshade was up to. They had decided to tell a select few about the sparkling she carried: her parents and Red Alert. Red Alert was on by default because he was the only one in the base aside from Ratchet that knew how to deliver a spark…and he was quite possibly his closest friend, aside from Wheeljack.

"Alright, Ratch. You're all done," Red Alert said, clapping the mech on the shoulder. Ratchet nodded and slowly sat up, expecting pain to lace across his abdomen at any second.

"You did well, Moon Racer. I'm surprised I haven't off-lined yet," he teased gently. Then he had to duck as she threw a rag at him.

"Femme! I'm the only one that gets to throw things in here," he growled, holding a fist up. Moon Racer only rolled her optics and left the room. Slag. He was losing his title as owner of the medical bay.

"See you later, Ratchet."

"No, wait a second, Red Alert. I need to talk to you," Ratchet said, making his way over to his office. Red Alert followed slowly, as though he were a doomed man approaching the gallows. What had he done wrong? Once inside, Ratchet shut the door and turned on the sound dampeners.

"Sit, please," he said neutrally, motioning to the seat in front of his desk. Ratchet seated himself, trying to figure out the best way to say what was on his computing center. He did not notice Red Alert's fright.

"What did I do wrong," Red Alert blurted, his optics wide in fear. He had heard horror stories about rookies that messed up in the medical bay and their terror of being called into Ratchet's office. Ratchet blinked, confused. Was he really that intimidating?

"You've done nothing wrong, Red Alert. I merely wanted to ask you a favor."

"O-oh."

"But I want you to swear to me that nothing that is said in this room leaves it," Ratchet said, his voice as serious as Red Alert had ever heard it. He nodded and immediately regretted it as his computing center conjured up some very interesting explanations for Ratchet's behavior.

"I want you to say it, Red Alert."

"I swear on my honor as a medic that nothing will leave this room," he said softly, his optic ridge slowly rising. Oh, Primus, had he actually followed through on his threat to kill the rookies? Did he need help hiding the body?? He did a quick mental tally of the rookies on the base…and found his fuel pump fluttering in terror. Dragonfly was missing. Oh, frag.

"Ratchet, you didn't kill anyone, did you?"

Ratchet choked.

"Oh, Primus, I can't do this, Ratchet, I can't help you hide the body," Red Alert cried out, clutching at the desk in terror. He had sworn to do no harm! What had little Dragonfly done to earn his deactivation?!

"I didn't kill anyone!"

"Oh…sorry, then. I…got a little too carried away."

"Back on track. I wanted you to help me with something."

"Of course, Ratchet. What do you need?"

"I want you to help me build a shell for a sparkling," Ratchet said quietly, watching Red Alert's reaction. Red Alert nodded, his computing center automatically assuming that it was Elita and Optimus's child.

"Of course. Who is it for?"

"Me and Nightshade," he admitted sheepishly, a grin crossing his face plates. Red Alert's jaw dropped.

"You mean…"

"Yes, we're expecting a little one in a few months," Ratchet said, a dreamy smile on his face.

"Oh, my Primus! Congratulations, Ratchet! Is it a mech or femme? When is she due? Why didn't you tell me sooner? Who all is going to be there for the labor? Who's delivering the sparkling? Have you decided on names? And a tutor-"

"Calm your welders, Red Alert! We don't know if it's a mech or femme yet, I know she's between four and five orns along, and I didn't tell you sooner because we found out last night! I don't know who we're including in the labor…it will probably just be us and her creators…maybe Elita and Chromia…"

"Wow, Ratchet. Just…wow. I can't believe it!"

"I also wanted to know something else," Ratchet said, laying a heavy hand on Red Alert's shoulder.

"What?"

"Will you deliver our sparkling?"

Red Alert froze. His optics widened.

"You honestly want me to do it," Red Alert asked quietly. Ratchet nodded.

"You're one of my closest friends, Red. We've practically known each other since we were sparklings ourselves. I…I wanted someone I knew to be there…and…I trust you…and…Nightshade trusts you with her life." Ratchet's voice was suddenly gruff.

"Y-yes, I would be honored," Red Alert finally managed to whisper. His computing center was whirling with thoughts. Why had they selected him? It was rare that a mech other than the sire was present for the delivery, and it was even rarer that a mech actually delivered the sparkling. This was an extremely rare honor…especially since this was the first sparkling born since the beginning of the war. Bumblebee had been the last true birth. The rest of the younglings, even the ones in the shuttle, had been created from the AllSpark and the residual energy it had left behind.

"Alright. Get a hold of yourself, Red. Can't have you getting all weepy on me," Ratchet said gruffly, giving his friend a smirk. Red Alert gave him a glare that would melt steel.

"Fragger," he good naturedly commented, "Primus, Ratchet. You're going to have a kid."

Ratchet nodded, his spark swelling in happiness.

00000

"Well, well. Someone is in a good mood," Chromia said suggestively, leaning onto the counter beside Nightshade. Nightshade stopped humming and looked at the femme beside her.

"Just got promoted, you silly femme," Nightshade said, shaking a finger in Chromia's direction, "So get your mind out of the gutter."

"Uh-huh. Right," Chromia said, leaning back onto her elbows. The younglings were playing peacefully, building cities out of blocks. Nightshade smiled dreamily, watching them, but not really at the same time, lost in her thoughts. She was going to be rearing a little one of her own in a few months.

"So, Chromia, how's the situation with Ironhide?"

"Does wanting to shove the business end of my rifle into his exhaust count?"

"Well, not really."

"He's so frustrating. I've wanted a sparkling ever since the day he and I bonded. He knows that very well. But he's always got an excuse as to why we can't have one of our own," Chromia said sadly, gazing down at the playing younglings. Sensing her sorrow, Starlight turned to her and stared up at her. Chromia knelt and gently gathered the little femme into her arms.

"Oh, Chromia…what's his excuse? Surely, there can't be many," Nightshade said, sitting on a bench. She motioned Chromia and Starlight over, patting the bench beside her. Chromia took a seat, smiling as Starlight began tickling her, trying to bring a smile to the older femme's face.

"Chromie, why you so sad," Starlight chirped. For someone so young, she was astutely aware of her surroundings, especially the emotions of her caretakers. Chromia smiled sadly, stroking the tiny silver helm resting against her chest.

"Nothing, little one, nothing."

"'kay. Cuddle," the youngling said, resting her head on Chromia's chest plates. In a matter of minutes, the little femme was lulled into recharge by Chromia's warm spark and strong, steady pump beat. Chromia set the youngling down in her berth, covering her with a blanket and placing a soft kiss on her helm. Nightshade watched sadly. Chromia took her spot on the bench back, leaning against the wall.

"He…he says that he's too old for a sparkling…and he doesn't really have a way to provide for any sparklings."

"Chromia, he's Prime's third in command. How the frag- I mean, how can he not provide for a sparkling…and he's not even that old," Nightshade asked quietly, her voice hushed so as to not alarm the younglings. One by one, they curled up in their berths and shuttered their optics, resting before another round of play. Nightshade subconsciously moved her hand over her carrying tank, guiltily staring down at the digits of her hand, imagining the tiny blue spark that pulsed beneath. Chromia sighed and dropped her gaze to her lap.

"I don't know, Nightshade. I honestly have no idea…but I guess spending time with these little ones will have to do," Chromia said, her voice breaking at the end of her sentence. Alarmed, Nightshade wrapped her arms around Chromia. She had begun to cry.

"A-after all that we-we've been th-through…after everything th-that I gave up for him…after everything that I've given him…he refuses to give me the one thing I want," Chromia managed to choke out.

Nightshade only wrapped her arms more tightly around Chromia, trying her best not to cry along with her. Nightshade steeled herself – Chromia needed someone strong right now. She would be damned if she let Chromia down.

"Sometimes…sometimes I find myself wondering…what my life would be like right now had I bound myself to the other mech," Chromia admitted softly, voicing what she had been waiting years to say. Nightshade froze, her optics going wide in horror.

"Chromia…I'm sorry…"

"Don't be sorry, Nightshade. I'm glad I bonded with Ironhide. He may be a bit slow in the processes, but I still love him dearly…and…Nightshade?"

"Yes, Chromia?"

"I-I just want you to know…if there was any way I could…give you my carrying files…I would do it in an astrosecond. You and Ratchet deserve so much more than this."

"Chromia, don't say that."

"Please listen to me. I know that Ironhide doesn't want a sparkling…there's no point for me to even have them then…," Chromia said softly, taking Nightshade's hands in her own.

"No, Chromia. Don't say things like that. You never know what will happen in a few years. He might change."

"But he hasn't changed since the day we bonded, Nightshade. Sure, he's matured, but he's adamant in not having a sparkling," Chromia said sadly. Nightshade found herself believing Chromia's statement with every electron in her body.

"I just wish he would give me a legitimate reason why he won't create a sparkling with me…do you think I would be that poor of a creator?"

"Chromia, don't say things like that, Ironhide is an aft headed mech, yes, but…"

"Thank you for listening, Nightshade. I needed someone to talk to, I guess…Red Alert was right. Bottling things up is not a good idea," Chromia said softly, a small smile on her face. The younglings began to stir, chirping hungrily.

"Let's get these little ones fed and bathed," Chromia said, a radiant smile on her face. Nightshade felt her spark twist sadly in its case when she saw Chromia pick Starlight up and hold her close to her chest. She placed her hand over her abdomen, guiltily watching Chromia attempt to appease the painful longing in her spark. She hung her head, fighting the tears back. Why would Ironhide do that to Chromia? Anger suddenly surged through her systems. No femme deserved to have her spark's desire denied from her, especially one who had suffered as much as Chromia had.

00000

Nightshade left the nursery. Her spark felt like it was torn in two at the moment. Her femme processes sympathized with Chromia, hating Ironhide for what he was doing. Her logical side only wanted to know why Ironhide would do something like that. The gears in her computing center began to turn. All she knew about Ironhide was that his creators had died fairly young, while he was still just a youngling, leaving the little one to fend for himself.

As Nightshade pondered, she did not notice the optics that followed her retreating figure down the hallway. Chromia watched the femme for a few moments, crossing her arms over her chassis. She had overheard a few bits of her conversation with Ratchet, mentioning something about their office being turned into something. She frowned slightly. What could they be doing to their office that would merit complete and utter secrecy? Unless…Chromia quickly went over the signs that Nightshade had presented, her computing center presenting the only logical reason that Nightshade would be so moody.

"No fraggin' way," Chromia breathed, a grin crossing her face. She tiptoed down the hallway until she reached the corner Nightshade had just turned. Chromia peeked down the hallway to observe the femme and the way she walked.

Chromia's optics widened slightly as she watched the femme walk away slowly. Her computing center was right! Nightshade's hand was resting protectively on her abdomen, just above her pelvic armor…right where her reproductive tank was.

00000

Yeah, I know Ironhide's being a bitch, but I've got a reason. :)

And haaaawt damn. One hundred thousand words? Wow.