Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I only own my OC's. Ask before you take. Thank you!

I promise I'm not dead! It's just been a long, long, long month. BUT tomorrow is GRADUATION and NO MORE SCHOOL…at least until August rolls around, but I'm not looking that far ahead! SENIORS '08!

Let's see….Carrying belongs to Litahatchee. The term "subadult" belongs to LittleMewLugia.

A bajillion cookies to LamentofMeow for being there to bounce ideas, put up with my constant threats of siccing Chuck Norris on her if she didn't put out some PXJ lovin' (and for various other reasons as well), and reading my pointless and rather amusing pr0n. Also, she deserves a medal for braving the internet and its tendency to eat things. ;)

Litahatchee: Girl, I've got your back. Just say the word and I'll instigate the crowd into a mob like frenzy. And thank you sooo much for your advice. I did what you said and inspiration struck me, kind of like a pimp hittin' his ho. (Now how's that for amusing imagery?)

Everyone else: Red Alert works in both the medical bay as an assistant and as chief of security. It is NOT an error to see him putting the Twins into the brig and hauling someone's aft to the medical bay. This will come into play eventually, so stop messaging me and telling me that you've 'caught a boo-boo'.

There was chaos as far as the optic could see.

Literally.

Prime was currently in the middle of a stern lecture with Jazz and Bumblebee. The two mischievous bots had decided to 'make a few alterations' on one of Ironhide's many, many weapons. The end result was catastrophic – the few mechs and femmes that had been within spraying range of the silly string were being hosed down by a very upset Inferno. His alternate mode, a fire engine, was the only one capable of dealing with the impromptu mess.

Ironhide, who had gone ballistic, had been restrained and sedated by Ratchet. Ratchet could understand why – Chromia had been one of the femmes that had been struck with shrapnel. Chromia was also carrying his sparkling. So Ratchet could fully understand why Ironhide reacted so violently. However, no one else knew about the sparkling, so they attributed the sudden violence to a few glitched systems. Hence, Ratchet's prompt and speedy intervention. Thankfully for Chromia (and Jazz and Bumblebee), the shrapnel was relatively harmless and had only caused superficial scratches to her paint.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were making lewd comments to Epsilon. Prowl decided to intervene before Nightshade lost it with the twins. She too, had suffered comments like that when she had come out of hiding, and besides, she felt a motherly duty to protect the little femme. He managed to whisk the dagger from Nightshade's hand and shove the Twins out of her kicking range.

Wheeljack looked like a lost robopuppy without Firestar, his long time secret crush. The two had become nearly inseparable since the massive explosion months ago. Now Firestar had disobeyed orders and was currently serving as the youngling-sitter until Epsilon and Nightshade returned from the landing site.

Ratchet was mumbling incessantly, occasionally shooting Chromia worried glances. The femme had not reacted well to the 'surprise'. The normally tough femme was shaking, repeatedly placing her hand over her carrying tank to make sure her sparkling was still safe and sound. Thankfully, Nightshade was tending to her, distracting the other femmes around Chromia from the incriminating gesture. Chromia had specifically requested that Nightshade not say a word about the sparkling, not until she had delivered and Ironhide was ready to be teased within an inch of his life.

Prime finished with Jazz and Bumblebee, releasing them to the waiting Ironhide. The unmistakable growl that erupted from Ironhide's vocalizers had the mechs and femmes within a three hundred yard radius scurrying away.

Chromia finally stopped fretting over her sparkling. She allowed Nightshade to lead her to the front of the procession and to her rightful spot beside Elita. Nightshade gave the worried femme one last scan before releasing her from her care. Elita openly gazed at them, wondering what was so different about the pair. They had both been off for a few weeks but she could not pinpoint the problem, even though it hovered on the edge of her computing center, just out of her reach. Now, what on Cybertron could have both femmes so irritable and grouchy?

Prime finally finished his pre-guest go over of the gathered 'bots and hurried up to the very front of the line, satisfied with their general appearance. He gave a self-suffering sigh as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe began elbowing one another. Without even speaking, he sent them a glare that would have melted steel. It was the type of glare he reserved for the most stupid of acts, one that Ratchet would have been proud of. The Twins instantly shuffled back into their places, shooting Prime an apologetic grin.

Jazz and Bumblebee were cowering behind Ratchet, the one mech that not even Ironhide had the ball bearings to annoy. Ratchet shrugged at Ironhide before hissing to the two behind him to be quiet and leave him alone.

Finally, with a few well timed threats and glares, Prime managed to silence the large group of mechs and femmes. After a few tense minutes, the shuttle finally came into view. Of its own accord, an optical ridge on Prime's face rose higher and higher as the shuttle – no, wait, the ship – came closer and closer. A flurry of dust and leaves was sent up into the air as the ship hovered over the ground, preparing to land. Two magnetic pulses and a hiss from the steering jets later, the ship finally settled on the ground and cut the engines. One long breem passed before the door slid open. A ramp extended to the ground.

Ironhide felt his optics narrow to slits as the familiar, pompous mech swaggered into view. Emirate held his nasal plate so high in the air it was a wonder he did not fall over. A few small drones scurried behind him, carrying his luggage. There was a second bulge in the bottom of the ship. A second ladder descended to the ground. Instead of luggage and supplies sliding down the ramp, it was the refugees that staggered down the slippery slope. Prime felt the energon in his lines boil at the realization that Emirate had forced the refugees to ride in the cargo bay. The mechs and femmes stumbled slightly, their legs wobbly from the ride.

Elita's optics widened as she saw the group. There was the rest of her platoon! They stayed where they stood, their optics shuttered and tears streaming down their faces. They were finally home. Others gathered awkwardly, wondering what was going to happen next.

Prime was the first to speak.

"Emirate. How pleasant to see you," he said. Not an ounce of honesty was in his voice and Emirate knew it.

"It is a pleasure, Optimus Prime," Emirate said, bowing to him. Prime motioned for the mech to stand back up.

"And your guests are?"

"I do not know their names. I find it pointless to fraternize with someone below my station," Emirate said, turning a disgusted look over to the huddled group. Ratchet began running scans immediately. He bit down the snarl threatening to make its way out of his vocalizers and motioned to Red Alert.

"We need to get some energon into the smaller ones. They are a little too underenergized for my taste," he muttered quietly, sending acidic glares over to the mech that had caused the refugees so much grief. Emirate seemed unaffected by the glares of disgust that he received. He continued his surveillance of the group, studying the divisions. His optics alighted as they grazed over the femme half of the group. If that one pink female was there, then Chromia couldn't be too far away from her. Elita turned to reprimand one of her soldiers. He saw her then. Chromia was standing stock still, her optics fixed on the horizon. A lecherous smirk crossed his face.

Prime noticed Emirate's sudden smirk and he narrowed his optics by just a hair. Emirate noticed. His smirk grew wider. He was Emirate, lord and master of half of Iacon. He had every right to Chromia and what remained of her fortune. There was nothing any of the mechs present could have done or said to deter his plans – Chromia was going to be his, whether she liked it or not.

It was a little over four hours later before the refugees were all checked for viruses. Ironhide did a very good job of keeping Chromia just out of Emirate's reach. However, Emirate was bound to corner Chromia sooner or later, especially now that he and Prime left to retrieve energon for the refugees. She had been talking to Nightshade, discussing some bit of juicy gossip or another. Emirate took his time studying the femmes. Chromia was much more beautiful now that she was in her permanent frame. The smaller blue femme wasn't too bad looking, either. With a few upgrades to her armor, she could be as beautiful as Chromia. He then approached.

Chromia knew Emirate was behind her from the way Nightshade stiffened. Nightshade subconsciously rubbed her wrist compartment where her medical scanner was housed. If Emirate tried anything, he would find that scanner shoved somewhere unpleasant. The mech finally drew level with them. He didn't bother to hide the way his gaze lecherously traveled over their bodies. He was apparently pleased with what he saw, for he spoke to the femmes smoothly and seductively.

"Chromia, how utterly pleasant to see you once more," Emirate said, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on the knuckles, "I've missed you ever so much."

Chromia did not answer and tugged her hand from his grip.

"Let's go, Nightshade," she muttered quietly, trying to get back to the main group.

"Now don't be that way, Chromia. Is that any way to greet me," Emirate said, looking and sounding offended, "Let's sit down and get reacquainted. After all, isn't trust required in a relationship?"

"Relationship? What the frag do you mean," Nightshade hissed, turning around and glaring at him. Emirate only patted her shoulder gently.

"Chromia must have explained to you who I am. We are soon-to-be bondmates. She has been promised to me, and by law, she must fulfill her duties," Emirate said slowly, as though explaining something to a particularly dimwitted youngling, "Now, out of my way femme."

Emirate pushed past Nightshade with his shoulder. She was quite unprepared for this action, but she managed to jump aside a little. She stumbled slightly and teetered before landing on the ground. She landed hard on her hand. It just so happened that she landed on her bad arm, the one that had been damaged long ago while training with Ironhide. Ratchet had replaced the gears in her elbow, yes, but they had completely forgotten about it. All of her weight transferred to her wrist and elbow, shattering the temporary gear and breaking a few other things.

"You fragger! How dare you push her!"

This, along with Nightshade's pained yelp and whimpering, drew quite a bit of attention to their corner of the landing site. Ratchet was unaware of the situation. He was patching up the remaining refugees. Ironhide was just returning from the base, carrying a load of energon.

Ironhide and Ratchet finally noticed the group gathered around the femmes. Emirate had Chromia by the upper arm, and Nightshade was sitting on the ground, wailing and clutching at her arm. Red Alert was kneeling beside her, trying to help her to her feet. Red Alert finally gave up and picked her up, setting her down on her feet.

Ratchet was three steps away from the group when Nightshade reacted. The femme was much smaller than Emirate but she was an angry femme. A very angry femme protecting not only her sparkling, but her friend and the sparkling she carried. Nightshade was advancing on Emirate, who was still struggling with Chromia. Ironhide already had his cannons out and charged, the air around them snapping and crackling with the heat and electricity emanating from the impressive weapons.

Emirate paused. He had noticed the way Chromia was struggling. She wasn't trying to pull away from him…she was trying to guard her abdomen. Emirate sneered down at the femme.

"Carting around Ironhide's sparkling, are you," he said quietly. Chromia's optics widened as he advanced. How did he know? Her widened optics and sudden fear confirmed his accusation. He smiled to himself on the inside – he now had leverage over the femme.

"You see, Chromia, that little problem can be fixed with a few drops of a certain chemical…it would be a real shame if something like that were to happen to your child, wouldn't it?"

He continued at her silence.

"And no one would ever find out – the particular chemical I'm thinking of dissipates quickly with no trace…practically undetectable once ingested."

Fear was one of the strongest, negative emotions one could extort for gain. Fear could make any mech or femme crumble, especially if it was the fear of losing their bondmate or sparkling. Chromia would lose both – he could take care of the sparkling with an abortive agent and Ironhide with something a little more potent. Then, once Chromia was sparkbroken and vulnerable, he could reap his rewards and take her as his mate. It would take a bit of effort to replace Ironhide in her spark since they had been bonded for so long, but it would all be worth it in the end. He would have what was rightfully his. He continued speaking in that same soft voice.

"And if you were to lose your sparkling, it would leave your bond wide open for a few breems…and it would be absolutely terrible if someone were to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state, wouldn't it?"

Chromia gasped and shoved him away, fear consuming her spark. He wouldn't do something like that…would he?

Sorry if it's a bit short, but…this dang chapter fought me tooth and nail, especially with Mr. Evil Armor at the end. Either Ironhide kick's Emirate's aft, no one finds out about the sparkling, and they live happily ever after OR…Emirate gets his way. D: