Chapter 46: Meet the Sparkling

I know I haven't updated in a long, long time. (dodges volley of blunt objects) Yeah, yeah, but here y'all go.

Carrying belongs to Litahatchee from her awesome story "Night Fire." Go read it, it's awesome.

Note: I read somewhere on the Metellus Cursor Yahoo Groups that Metellus Cursor was a 'sparked' ship. I think it means that the ship has a spark and that it is sentient. I'm not sure if that's exactly what it means, but I do refer to the term here. I do not own the idea of sparked ship; that belongs to someone else. If you're the owner, please let me know so that I can credit you properly.

I've also borrowed some terminology from Star Trek. If you watch Star Trek or have ever seen it, you'll know what I mean when I say warp core. For those of you who are not fellow Trekkies (live long and prosper), a warp core is basically a huge cylinder filled with…stuff. It glows and it makes the ship go. There's no other way I can describe it.

: this is private comm. line speak :

: this is texting :

Enjoy. :)

Night was falling quickly, and Jazz still had not made any headway with the regenerative seals on the ship. After a few moments, the answer hit him. He shuttered his optics and dropped his head to the metal beneath him. How could he have not seen the solution? He used the magnetic pulses from his hands to twist the support struts out of the way. Beneath the thick plating lay the supply main line for the material. He clamped the lines before slicing through the membranes covering the honeycomb pockets. No polymer oozed out. Jazz grinned to himself. Finally, something was going his way!

He ripped out the rest of the wires and lines in the pocket before wriggling into the space. The original hull of the warship was gunmetal grey, dull and covered in a web of crisscrossing scars. Jazz used the small laser scalpel that he had 'borrowed' from the medical bay to start cutting. He had no idea what part of the ship he was cutting into. For all he knew, he was right above Emirate's office!

Jazz used his magnets once more to lift the circular piece of metal out of the hole. Jazz tentatively poked his head into the space he had just created. A second layer of metal blocked his way. He grumbled quietly before cutting once more. He hadn't infiltrated a ship in so long, he'd almost forgotten how much armor a class five war vessel carried.

An hour passed by in silence (or relative silence punctuated by the thuds of metal pieces hitting the ground behind him). He cut away layer upon layer of metal as he cursed the ship and its heavy armor. He was so absorbed in his work that he nearly fell out of the jagged hole when his communicator beeped. After waiting a moment to calm his racing fuel pump, he opened the channel. It was Prowl. Though he knew Prowl could not see him, he grinned charmingly as he spoke suavely.

: Jazz-man here. :

: Are you in yet?:

:Nope. Still cuttin' through the armor.:

He heard a heavy sigh from Prowl's end of the connection along with a brief flare of anxiety from his spark. It was out of character for Prowl to show so much emotion, but the situation was dire. Jazz spoke soothingly, pausing in his work. Prowl was trying to hide his concern from Jazz, but it was poorly done. Jazz could feel the guilt seeping out.

: I know, Prowl. The girls are in trouble and so are their little ones. Chromia will take care of them both, alright?:

Jazz sent as much comfort as he possibly could through their bond. Prowl accepted, reciprocating the gesture just a few moments later.

:I know you are doing everything that you can, Jazz. I don't want to see them or the sparklings hurt…I wish we knew that they would be together at all times. :

:Don't fret, Prowler. We're going to get them out, safe and sound. Don't worry about Nightshade, Prowl. She can defend herself if Chromia's not there. :

:Don't call me that, Jazz. You know as well as I do how limited Nightshade's self defense skills are. :

Jazz dropped his gaze, staring at the medical laser in his hand. Nightshade was seriously lacking in the ability to defend herself. Hopefully, the arrival of her sparkling had instilled some sort of need to protect and defend. All femmes were dangerous when their sparklings were involved. Even the most timid of femmes were known to maim, even kill in some cases, in the defense of their sparkling. Jazz only hoped that the same applied to Nightshade.

: She's going to be fine. :

Jazz repeated the statement silently to himself. Knowing that Chromia was there by Nightshade's side did much for his comfort level. The girls would be fine.

: I hope so. :

:Love you...Prowler.:

: Jazz. :

Jazz snickered quietly. The small gesture of comfort from Prowl renewed his vigor. He began cutting once more, a small smile on his face plates. Jazz didn't know why he was so worried. Chromia was the true embodiment of a warrior femme. She was vicious and cunning, unafraid to neutralize a threat. Jazz smiled as he tossed another piece of support structure over his shoulder. Now that Chromia's femme processes registered her own sparkling and Nightshade's newborn, any kind of threat from Emirate would merit having his spark ripped out with her bare hands.

Through his exhaust port.

Jazz snickered again, shoving aside a power cable. Hopefully, Emirate was intelligent enough to stay away from the femmes. Nightshade may have not been a warrior, but she had a very quick and sneaky processor. She would be able to find a way to avoid a confrontation. And she had taken on Ratchet's wicked aim through osmosis, just in case Emirate did decide to harrass her. He grinned when warm yellow light suddenly washed out of the hole in the ship. He was almost there.

:Prowl, I'm about to go in. :

: I understand, Jazz. Be careful. And…I love you. :

:Love you more…Prowlie. :

For once, there was no reprimand from the stoic tactician. Jazz smiled wryly before cutting off his communicator. He had two femmes to find and one mech to neutralize. With that, he lifted himself into the gap and dropped to the ground. The room beneath was dimly lit by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The metal crates around him were barely visible in the murky darkness. Was he in some sort of storage unit? He immediately activated his scanning software, searching for lines in the walls. The yellow wires were electrical components and would do him no good. The blue ones were fuel lines. Unless he was hungry for ship-grade energon, he would need to avoid those. Orange lines were weapons lines. Definitely needed to avoid those.

The elusive information bundle glowed bright green in his vision. He pried a metal plate from the wall and began separating the wires, searching for a specific one. He wrapped one cable from his wrist around the one from the wall and began downloading the information. According to the information he had downloaded, he was in the cargo area of the ship. The medical bay, the most likely place Nightshade would be, was on the tenth level.

Jazz silently hacked the door code and began moving.

Maia waited until Emirate had initiated his recharge sequence before getting up off of the berth. She quietly left the room and made her way to her personal quarters. Her room was spacious and well decorated, but she took no notice of that. Her thoughts were focused entirely on her soon-to-be Mistress and her Master's new consort. Chromia was very beautiful and quite spirited. Maia could see why Emirate wanted her so desperately. She absently started the shower unit, letting the cool fluid run over her hand.

The femme let out a soft sigh, echoing the sound Nightshade had made. It was an odd noise, but it was capable of relaying so much emotion. It sounded sad and wistful, perfect for what she was feeling at the moment. Nightshade was going to replace her eventually as Emirate's consort. Maia was already tending to the femmes, so maybe he would keep her as their attendant. Or would he sell her to someone else? She absently rubbed at a streak of green paint on her arm, watching as the solvent washed it away. Nightshade and Chromia were such lovely femmes, even though they were a bit violent. She went and stood underneath the drying vent for a few minutes, allowing herself the small pleasure of the heated air circulating over her shell. She shuttered her optics and focused her thoughts on the small blue femme. She was a blessed femme, even though she probably didn't realize just how much was a trained medic, she had loving mate, and a sparkling of her own.

A sparkling...

Maia wistfully rubbed her abdomen. The day she came of age, Emirate had had her reproductive tank removed. He wanted nothing to do with a sparkling. He hated them and she wondered why. The femme before her had conceived, a mistake he never wanted to repeat. Maia wondered where the other femme was now. He had dropped her off with a family in the Praxus nebula. Where was the youngling? It would have been an adult by now. She leaned against the wall of the bathing room heavily, shuttering her optics tightly. Little Streak was the first sparkling she had ever seen. Seeing the tiny grey mech tremble from the cold and fear in her Master's office had all but broken her spark. She rubbed her abdomen again, wishing she could hold the little one. Nightshade would never allow it, though. Maia made the sighing noise again, standing up straight.

Emirate had left her carrying chamber and carrying files intact. She could not conceive, but she could carry a sparkling. Maia's spark ached for Chromia. If Emirate ever sired a sparkling by her, it would be taken from her immediately after the sparkling was strong enough to be upgraded. Maia, most likely Nightshade, would be the one to raise it while Emirate and Chromia were off vacationing or negotiating. He would allow Chromia to carry it periodically to make sure it didn't die. Maia slowly walked out into her room, gazing at the comfortable berth. She dimmed the lights and sank into the firm cushions, shuttering her optics the moment her head touched the plush fabric.

Ratchet sat in the command center, staring at the far wall. His mind was racing and his spark was in turmoil. He couldn't feel Nightshade or Streak. Numbness settled in his fuel tanks when his spark shuddered in its casing. Nightshade was going to be fine. He repeated the mantra over and over in his head, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. The only way he would was to see and hold them in his arms. He called to Nightshade again through their bond.

The cold sensation of the unanswered call spread through him once more, numbing him to his very core.

He called to Streak hopefully.

Still nothing. The cold sensation spread further and further until he could not feel anything but the pain of an unfinished bond.

Ironhide was watching over Ratchet carefully. Ironhide was worried about Chromia but he knew that she could take care of herself. Nightshade, on the other hand… Red Alert had given him the details of the birth and the events surrounding it. Ironhide didn't know how the femme could be online and coherent with all that had happened. For just a moment, Ironhide reached out and briefly touched Ratchet's shoulder. The mech did not respond.

Ratchet could bear the pain of being separated from Nightshade. All sparks were capable of 'tuning' out the inherent need to be with its other half. If the distance was maintained, then the resonance would eventually become background noise and fade away until reunited. However, if a mech or femme was separated from a sparkling before a complete bond was established, then the pain would escalate until it became unbearable. Who knew what Ratchet would do in his desperation?

"Jazz is in the ship," Optimus said gently, trying to rouse the mech.

Ratchet didn't respond.

His optics had faded to grey.

"Are you going to cooperate, Mr. Witwicky?" the agent asked. Sam let out an annoyed huff before glaring up at the man. The agent held his gaze, giving him the slightest smirk.

"I've already told you. I don't know what is going on," Sam grit out. The tepid hot cocoa sat by his elbow, forgotten in the hours that had passed. The agent merely nodded and went back to his game of Tetris. Simmons was texting away on his cell phone. Occasionally, he would ask the other agent his opinion on food choices. Sam's stomach growled quietly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since that platter of dim sum yesterday. Sam wondered if the government fed its prisoners.

"You know, you could always go up there and ask him yourself," Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. The rude agent ignored him completely. Simmons shot him a brief sympathetic look before looking over at the other man.

"You need a potty break, kid?" Simmons asked. Sam nodded, ignoring Reggie's slip up.

"Yeah. My bladder's about to burst," Sam said, somehow managing to do the pee dance in his chair. Simmons nodded and stood up, motioning for him to do the same. The other agent nodded and leaned his chair back against the wall, putting his feet up on the table.

"You've got five minutes," he said dismissively, closing his eyes. Simmons made quick work of escorting the young man to the nearby bathrooms. Once inside, Simmons handed over his cellphone. Without speaking, he motioned over to one of the toilet stalls.

"Two minutes," he warned quietly. Sam immediately sat down and began texting Bee. Simmons may have been an ass, but he still knew that the situation was dire. Prime knew what was going on; the President, unfortunately, did not. Besides, Simmons respected Optimus. Giving him a warning about the situation was fair and honorable. Simmons also knew that the resident aliens were hiding some pretty impressive weaponry if Ironhide was anything to go by. They would have to tread very cautiously until they knew the aliens were on their side.

With an aggravated huff, Jazz snuck back down the way he had come. Nightshade was not in the medical bay. He should have known better than that, though. It was nearly one in the morning. Nightshade was probably recharging. Ratchet groused about her sleeping habits every once in a while, especially when she took up the entire berth. Jazz snickered – once Streak got older, Ratchet would have to compete for time with Nightshade. He activated his strongest electrical scanner and began exploring. The bright yellow lines in the wall indicated electrical charges. The rooms he passed were blue violet. There were no lights or devices on. Good, less for him to look through. He continued down the hallway and noticed the white oblong shapes in the walls. As he drew nearer to the wall, he could begin to see details. The electrical hotspots were niches in the wall, each one containing a small drone.

He made a note to tell Prime about that before continuing down the hallway. He looked left and right. The right seemed to be completely shut down because it was pitch black. There wasn't even a mote of electricity in the half of the hallway. He turned down the left branch of the hallway. This hallway was dim, but still active. Jazz could see a glowing white square in his vision. This room was an electrical hotspot, just like the drone niches.

He crept closer and knelt beside the door. Whose room was this? Were Chromia and Nightshade inside? Using a tiny drill in one of his subspace pockets, he made an equally tiny hole in the wall. He inserted an optical fiber and waited for the software to load.

The room was empty but he could see dim light from one of the adjoining rooms. He could barely see two figures inside. One shape was sitting up; the other was sprawled across the berth. Yup, that was Nightshade. Or maybe it wasn't. He ignored the urge to sprint inside. Jazz immediately hacked the door pad beside the door. He inched the door open ever so slowly, taking great care not to make any noise. He opened it just enough to slide in before entering and shutting the door behind him. His systems quieted as his spy programming booted up. There were two targets in this room. Friendly? Or not friendly? He would have to find out himself. Stealthy as a shadow, he crept up beside the door frame and began listening quietly. He smiled when he recognized the two voices. Jazz peered around the corner and was pleasantly surprised at what he saw.

Then he smiled again, taking a photograph with his optical software subtly. Now, he had to make his presence known.

Nightshade brought her optics on line. Was it really time to wake up? Chromia was sitting beside her in the berth, reading a holocube. Nightshade groaned quietly and pulled the cushion down over her head. When her processor alerted her to the fact that Streak's motor functions were about to come online, she knew that she had no chance of recharging.

"What time is it, Chromia?" she mumbled.

"A little after one," Chromia said absently, flipping to the next display.

"In the afternoon?" Nightshade asked. Strangely enough, it felt like she had recharged for an hour or two. Streak stretched out. His power cells were fully charged. It was time to play!

"No you silly femme. In the morning," Chromia said, like she was explaining something to a rather stupid sparkling. Nightshade lifted the cushion off of her head and made a face at Chromia before speaking. She would forgive her for now.

"Then why am I awake?"

"Pit if I know, femme," Chromia said absently, turning to a different page. Nightshade grumbled quietly and turned over onto her side. A moment later, Nightshade flopped onto her back. Streak wriggled. He didn't like the sensation of his mother tossing and turning. Unable to get comfortable, Nightshade sat up and peered over Chromia's shoulder. Streak had enough of the shifting gravity. He growled quietly before…

- clang -

Nightshade yelped in pain and doubled over, her hands pressed against her chest plates. Chromia looked over at her, concerned.

"What is it?" she asked, setting her holocube down.

"Streak wants out," Nightshade groused quietly. Streak was squirming restlessly, alternating between kicking and hitting. Nightshade could feel the beginnings of amusement radiating from his little spark. Chromia smiled when Nightshade began giggling once more. His squirming tickled her very sensitive carrying chamber. Then Nightshade's giggles stopped abruptly when Streak kicked out again. That fragging hurt. She cursed the sensitivity of her carrying chamber. Maybe she could turn it off? It's not like she really needed to know what Streak was up to in there; at this point in time, the only thing he'd only be doing is sleeping and raiding her energon stores.

"Let him out then. I want to see Ratchet's demon spawn," Chromia said, sitting up and facing Nightshade. Nightshade glared at her but relented. Her chest plates parted halfway and little Streak tumbled out into her arms. Finally, he was free!

Streak was clicking wildly, eager to see the world around him. The little mech less than a day old and was already trying to worm his way around. Nightshade set him down on his stomach on the berth. He began wriggling, trying to propel himself forwards. He was neither strong nor coordinated enough to move so he gave up, content to just lie there and allow his mother to pet him. Nightshade gently turned him over onto his back. Streak waved his tiny hands up at her. He reached to her spark and sent her as much love as he could. When Nightshade responded in the same way, he warbled happily.

Then he saw Chromia. He immediately curled up, wary of the strange new femme. The last new mech he had seen had taken him from his mother and left him in the cold, and Streak didn't want that to happen again. Nightshade stroked his head softly. Chromia gently reached out to him, caressing his arm. Streak chirped when he realized that it wasn't his mother that was petting him. There was a strange presence in the room. Was that the other femme's spark? Her presence was comforting. He uncurled slowly, looking up at the strange femme. There was something on his arm. Streak grabbed her hand and examined it closely. It looked like his hand, but it was much bigger. Streak's face plates screwed up for a moment, as though he was thinking quite hard. Then he bit down on her finger. Hard.

Nightshade giggled at Chromia's stifled yelp. Chromia gently pulled her hand away, wincing at the dents embedded in her finger. Streak looked up at the new femme and clicked excitedly. He liked this new femme, especially the funny faces she made. He wriggled when Nightshade picked him up. He clicked softly, wanting to be held close to his mother. It was cold in the room, and he didn't like it at all. Chromia scooted even closer, allowing Nightshade to deposit the sparkling into her arms.

"Well hello there, little one," Chromia cooed, using a finger to tickle his abdominal plates. He squealed, batting at her hands.

"You are too cute to have Ratchet for a sire," Chromia continued, ignoring Nightshade's caustic glare. Streak chirped again. The strange new femme had a pretty voice like mother. She was warm and her spark was so nice to lie against. It wasn't anywhere as good as his mother's, but it would do for the moment.

"Say hello to Aunty Chromia," Nightshade said, stroking Streak's little head gently. Streak blinked up at Chromia, his head cocked. He watched the two femmes converse quietly.

"Aunty Chromia?" Chromia asked, her optical ridge raised slightly.

"Well, I thought it sounded cute," Nightshade said defensively. Streak wriggled unhappily. He was tired of this femme, he wanted his mother!

"I think he wants to go back with you," Chromia said. Nightshade allowed Chromia to put him back into her arms. He cuddled into her chest plates. This was where he wanted to be, right above mother's spark. There wasn't anywhere else in the world that he would rather be. Nightshade absently rubbed Streak's back plates.

"Is…is he purring?" Chromia asked, grinning. They both fell silent and listened as little Streak purred his contentment. He sensed the stares of the femmes and looked up. Nightshade nuzzled his head gently. She smiled when Streak reached up to touch her face plates. His tiny hand brushed over her lip components and cheek plates. Nightshade kissed his fingers and he chirped once more.

"Huh. I thought Ratchet's kid woulda had horns and a tail," came a soft voice from the doorway.

Chromia leapt out of the berth, one of Nightshade's smuggled surgical lasers in her hand. Nightshade reacted instinctively. She clutched Streak to her chest, shielding the vulnerable sparkling in her arms. Streak began whimpering quietly, though a soft warning click from Nightshade silenced him. He trembled against her chest plates, wanting to go into her carrying hold where it was safe.

"You little fragger," Chromia snarled, throwing the tool at Jazz's head. He ducked and easily avoided being hit.

"Is that any way to greet your rescuer?" he said, bounding over to Chromia and hugging her. She hugged him back, patting the top of his head. Jazz barely reached the bottom of her chassis. He purred happily as he cuddled into her chassis. She smacked him hard, leaving a sizable dent in his armor.

"You're getting a bit friendly, you little glitch," she warned quietly. He gave her a cheeky grin before looking over at Nightshade. The femme was watching him carefully, trying to decide if he was a threat to her sparkling. Apparently, she didn't think so, and slowly lowered her arms. Chromia took this as a good sign. After what Emirate had done, Chromia half expected Nightshade to fritz if any male approached her sparkling.

"Is it okay for me to go and say hey to the little guy?" Jazz asked Chromia softly. He knew that Emirate had taken Streak from Nightshade. He also knew that if he approached without her permission, he would end up in the medical bay. Chromia made a soft humming noise.

"That's up to her, Jazz. Do you want me to ask?" Chromia asked. Jazz nodded eagerly, subtly taking a few more photographs. Chromia returned to Nightshade's side and sat down on the edge of the berth. She made a silly face up at Jazz on impulse. Streak was quietly curled up. The last strange mech he had met had taken him from his mother. Was this one here to do it again?

"Jazz wants to see Streak, is it alright?" Chromia asked. Nightshade slowly nodded.

"I don't know how he is going to react. Sit down beside me and give us both a moment," Nightshade said quietly. The mech obeyed her and slowly approached. He leaned over Nightshade's shoulder and peered at the tiny grey protoform in her arms. Nightshade gently ran one hand down Streak's back, softly cooing to him.

"There, there, Streak. Jazz won't hurt you," she said. Streak slowly looked up, squeaking in fright when he saw Jazz. He immediately burrowed into Nightshade's chest plates, trying to get back into the warm safe space of her carrying hold. Nightshade looked up to Jazz and shook her head.

"He's too frightened right now, Jazz. Maybe you can visit later, when I've calmed him down," Nightshade said. Jazz nodded, using a finger to gently touch Streak's arm.

"He's beautiful, Nightshade. Congratulations," Jazz breathed, slowly backing away from the femme and her frightened sparkling. Nightshade nodded and smiled.

"Thank you, Jazz. And…good luck."

"You're welcome Nightshade. I'll do my best," Jazz said, nodding his head in her direction. Jazz stopped by Chromia. He gave her a wide grin.

"Oh…and Chromia? I've got a present for you," he sang. Chromia lifted one optical ridge. Jazz walked over to one of the tables and unsubspaced a plethora of weapons. Chromia's optics widened in absolute glee. She grinned at Jazz.

"Thank you Jazz. I won't tell Prowl or Ironhide that you touched my chassis," Chromia said, "Now get out of here, you little fragger. Make sure you tell Ratchet that Nightshade and Streak are doing well and that I will take care of them both."

Jazz nodded, sharply saluting the femme.

"It will be my pleasure, Chromia."

With that, Jazz turned and left the room. Chromia watched as the door slid shut behind Jazz before turning back to the pile of weapons he had left for her. She subspaced everything but a pair of handheld daggers and a few thermite grenades. Chromia prayed that Nightshade would not need to use the weapons, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.

Nightshade clicked softly to Streak, but his little spark continued its panicky calls. He desperately pawed at the seam of her chest plates, whimpering and squeaking quietly. Nightshade opened her chest plates and allowed Streak to upload into her systems. The little one was afraid of mechs thanks to what Emirate did. She soothed him through their bond the best she could. He eventually calmed down. He curled up in her carrying hold and initiated his recharge programs. Nightshade curled up and buried her head underneath a few cushions, purring at the warm darkness.

Chromia rolled her optics skyward before shaking her head. She turned back to her holocube.

Knowing that the femmes were safe and sound was a serious morale booster for Jazz. He could now focus on his new task. Disabling the ship propulsion systems and weapons were at the top of his list. First, he would have to find the engine room. If he disabled the warp core and damaged some of the neural circuits, he would be able to buy some time for Optimus. Emirate wouldn't be able to fly more than a few miles on just the thrusters. Jazz referred to the information he had downloaded from the ship. It wasn't a sparked ship, so he didn't need to worry about being discovered upon entering the engine room.

The engine room was at the very bottom of the ship, nestled between the forward cargo hatch and the fuel tank. Jazz slid along the wall toward one of the elevators. The hallway was empty. The elevator was on the floor above him, stopped for the night. Jazz thought for a moment. It would be much faster to use his magnets to slide down the elevator shaft. And it would be difficult for him to be detected. He pried the doors open and peered over the edge. It was a long, long way down.

Jazz carefully swung his legs over the edge and began climbing down, expertly alternating the magnetic pulses on his hands. It took him almost a full cycle to descend into the belly of the ship, and by that time, he was utterly exhausted. He had wrenched something in his arm on the way down but he refused to let it slow him down. They were so close to storming the ship and saving the femmes.

Jazz crept into the engine room, peering around the dusky room. The warp core glinted brightly in the darkness, the blue radiation from the dilithium dancing across the containment walls. Jazz maneuvered himself underneath one of the side consoles. The safety net built into the programming immediately shut down the warp core to avoid a breach once Jazz had finished tinkering around with the electrical components. Jazz destroyed the series of relays he had just ripped out. It would take Emirate joors to replace that piece of equipment.

He went to another console and ejected the fuel cells of the ship. He heard two loud reverberating thuds as the large metallic containers hit the ground outside. He smirked. Prime now had a way to power his trading vessels. Now all that Emirate had were the magnetic thrusters, and those wouldn't last very long without the fuel cells.

Jazz made his way back to the storage unit he had come in through. He now had to locate twelve nuclear warheads and disable them. They were concentrated in the nose of the ship, just in front of the forward landing gears. It took him a few moments to strip away the decorative hull and locate the cargo hatches.

Twelve red nuclear warheads glinted at him. With trembling hands, Jazz began dismantling each bomb slowly and carefully. Two mechs appeared out of the forest, carrying a containment box. Jazz gently lifted out the first metal sphere. It was solid and heavy with the volatile plutonium. Jazz shivered when he set it into the dimpled foam in the bottom of the box. One of those spheres was enough to level an area the size of San Francisco. Jazz slowly worked his way to the last one. The last sphere was gently set in place. The lid was sealed and locked. The two mechs disappeared back into the forest. Jazz watched as they slid back into the base.

Not five minutes later, the hangar bay doors parted. The trading shuttle had been programmed to fly straight into the sun. The sun would absorb the radiation from the explosion and disperse it. Cosmos and Astrotrain transformed, flying ahead of the shuttle and providing a formidable escort. Jazz watched as the afterburners from the three ships twinkled in the night sky. They disappeared among the stars. He sighed. Astrotrain and Cosmos wouldn't be back for almost two weeks. Though they were fast, none of the three were equipped with dilithium reserves. He was startled from the thought by his comm. line beeping quietly at him.

: Jazz, this is Optimus. :

: What is it, sir? :

: We've just received word that the President has declared us a threat to national security. :

Jazz swore quietly. The President had a few chips loose somewhere. Who knew what he would do now? Things with Emirate were starting to draw to a close, but now the President was involved. He was about to declare war on them. If other countries got involved, they would have to flee.

: I'm already moving as fast as I can, sir. Any faster and I might screw somethin' up. :

: Bumblebee is on his way to Sam's family. We will be accommodating the humans and their families until we know that they are safe. :

: Understood, sir. I'll try to move as quickly as I can. :

: I know you will, Jazz. Thank you. :

: Prime? Can you give this to Ratchet? :

: What is it? :

Jazz smiled.

: A few photographs that I took of Nightshade playing with Light Streak. :

Jazz couldn't see Prime, but he knew that Prime was smiling. Jazz sent Optimus the photographs. Unspoken relief and gratitude poured from the leader.

: Thank you, Jazz. Primus only knows how much Ratchet needs this. :

: You're welcome, sir. :

Prime waited a second before turning back to Ratchet. The mech was still sitting in the same seat he had sank into a few hours ago. Prime downloaded the image onto a datapad, smiling as it came up on the 3D display. Nightshade was sitting up against something with Light Streak lying across her chest plates, a small dreamy smile on her face plates. The little mech was touching Nightshade's cheek, his big blue optics wide in wonder.

"Ratchet?"

The mech glanced up at Optimus but did not speak.

"Jazz thought you might like this," Optimus said gently, handing Ratchet the datapad. He glanced at it and froze upon seeing Nightshade and Streak. The mech shuttered his optics. His broad shoulders began trembling as he struggled to keep his composure. His mate was safe. His son was safe. Ironhide grunted as he wrapped one arm around Ratchet's shoulders in an awkward, comforting one-armed hug. A few of the other mechs in the command center shot them strange looks, but the menacing snarl on Ironhide's face plates sent them scurrying. Ironhide glanced over at the photograph and burst into laughter as the display changed.

"Chromia sure knows how to ruin a beautiful moment, don't she, Ratchet?" Ironhide asked. Nightshade was leaning up against Chromia, smiling up at Jazz. Streak was curled up in her arms, his tiny grey body barely visible. Chromia, being the silly femme that she was, had her optics crossed and her glossa sticking out. Ratchet snickered quietly, wiping at his optics with a trembling hand.

"That femme of yours," he said, changing to the next photograph. Streak was lying on the recharge berth, his tiny feet kicking into the air. Ratchet wondered how Jazz had gotten so close to Streak, but then realized that Jazz had probably been hiding. Chromia and Nightshade hadn't even seen him. Ratchet was completely enraptured by Streak. He touched the light-matter display, wishing that it was his son in his arms and not a holograph. Ironhide grunted as he heaved himself to his feet. He made his way back to Prime's side.

"Is he alright?" Optimus asked quietly. Ironhide nodded.

"He'll be fine," Ironhide said gruffly, glancing over at his friend.

You see? Nothing TOO bad there. :)