Chapter 2
Back at the Metroplex, Ultra Magnus had called a short meeting to discuss recent events. The first order of the day, the Magnus Hammer.
"Well, Perceptor?" started Alpha Trion, "what, pray-tell, was the Matrix of Leadership doing within the Magnus Hammer?"
"The what-now?" quipped Sentinel Prime.
"The first and foremost symbol of authority in Cybertron," clarified Perceptor, "as well as the power source of the Magnus Hammer."
"No, that's not right," cut in Cliffjumper, "Cybertron's only status symbol has been the Magnus Hammer since the times of Zeemon."
"Officially, yes," replied Alpha Trion, "however, much was lost during Nova's Great Purge, including the location and purpose of the Matrix."
"And what is the purpose of the Matrix?" scoffed Sentinel.
"To turn the bearer into a weapon," replied Alpha coldly, "Throughout our ten billion stellar cycles of history, the Matrix has only appeared in times of dire need. It has given us the power to overcome and dominate."
"How?" asked Ultra Magnus.
"Ever since Prima first forged it, it has been used to grant us the power to wield our own, unique items. From weapons of ultimate destruction like Prima's Star Saber to tools of creation like Solus Prime's Forge, each of us has had a unique tool that allowed us to guarantee Cybertron's continued survival."
"How many have been chosen so far?" asked Cliffjumper.
"Eleven so far, each of which was a Prime," he replied, "due to that, we ended up calling ourselves the Dynasty of the Primes as an inside joke, a poor decision on hindsight."
"Why is that?" inquired Botanica.
"Nova Magnus," spat the elderly mech, "the arrogant, rusty bearing of a bot heard Liege Maximo joking around about the Dynasty being superior to the Magnus after a few high grade units and next thing you know, we're not even history anymore."
"Wait, is that how the Great Purge began?" asked Wheeljack, receiving a grim nod in response.
"How does the Magnus Hammer fit into all of this?" asked Cliffjumper.
"It is the holding vessel for the Matrix," replied Perceptor, for once abandoning his monotone speech pattern, "in times of peace, the Matrix needed to be placed in the hands of whoever was considered to be worthy of it. Zeemon decreed that the Magnus, chosen by the will of the populace, would be the one to guard the tool that would find the leader their sparks called."
"That was… awfully poetic for you," commented a stupefied Botanica.
"It was a prerecorded response," he replied mechanically, "I made it before I removed my emotional processors, in the event that the Matrix ever chose to reveal itself once more."
"The Hammer is a handicap," explained Alpha Trion, "I don't know as much about it as I would like, you'd have to ask Vector about that, but the basics are somewhat simple. The Magnus Hammer is a weapon that runs on the energy provided by the Matrix, whereas those of us chosen by the Matrix were able to use that power directly."
"Us?" asked Ultra Magnus, making Alpha's cyclers skip a pulse, "Did you say "us", Alpha Trion?"
"Yes Ultra, I did," he replied coolly, "as far as I know I am one of the few Armed Primes alive."
"Who else is left?" asked Botanica.
"Vector Prime," he stated, "he's quite possibly the oldest cybertronian alive. I think Micronus might also be around, but I haven't heard from him in over a billion stellar-cycles."
"I know Vector," cut in Botanica, "He's the head curator at the Museum of Interplanetary History. I never knew he was that old, although that would explain his odd appearance."
"He's the only one that never bothered to upgrade his robot mode," he replied, "insists that his four-legged crawler mode is enough. You have no idea what Logos and I went through to convince him to have wheels installed."
"I always did wonder why he has four legs," admitted the green femme.
"Under which conditions has the Matrix appeared before?" Asked Ultra Magnus before the conversation could be derailed further.
"The first time it was forged by Prima using a substance similar to the Allspark," replied Perceptor, "the difference being that this new material attracted energy for the user instead of releasing it."
"It was used to end the First Cybertronian War," continued Alpha, "ever since, it has appeared whenever it deemed fit."
"Why didn't it show itself during the Great War?" asked Sentinel.
"I can honestly tell you that I have no idea," he admitted, "we assumed that it'd been lost the last time it appeared when it was used to destroy a giant mining planet infused with Allspark Energy."
"I see, well, that should be all on the subject," said Ultra Magnus, "Are there any other issues that need to be discussed today?"
"Yes," said Cliffjumper, "Sari Sumdac."
Back with Optimus and the rest of his crew, they had quickly found out that content of a digital image was an important variable when calculating the amount of time that it took to circumnavigate the planet. Everywhere they turned their helms, an image of them strolling out of Omega flashed off some vidscreen or another. The sudden fame was taking their toll on all of them, with the exception of Bumblebee, who seemed to revel in it.
"…and then I said 'you know, you're even uglier from this angle!'" finished Bumblebee as the crowd roared in laughter. Prime and the others had hoped to get to relax a little in the mess hall. Now they were wondering why they had considered that a possibility with Bumblebee around.
"Come on 'Bee," called out Jazz, "we should meet up with Ratchet and Arcee soon."
"In a minute," responded the yellow speedster, "lemme tell you something about Earth. The water will rust you in a nanoclick and all the nature gets old faster than you can scream 'Megatron', but it has the best oil that side of the periphery!"
"Come on," sighed Optimus as he dragged Bumblebee off by the scruff of the neck, leaving a few oil connoisseurs with mental note to visit Earth sometime.
"What can you tell us of young Sari, Perceptor?" called out Ultra Magnus from his chair in the Autobot High Council.
"The technorganic is armed far too well to be a civilian model," he stated, "although I do have a theory, more testing will be required before an educated guess of her origins can be made. At the moment, I advise that she be kept under close observation."
"Why is that?" asked Botanica.
"The technorganic is highly flawed," he replied, "the potential for self-destruction is far too large. I would recommend that she is given regular check-ups to ensure that the barrier between her organic and cybertronian halves remains intact. Mildly radioactive substances and extremes in temperatures could be lethal to her thanks to her organic half. Her imperfections could not be repaired by the limited energy that the Allspark placed into her key. Without a second upgrade, her life will be short and her death will be painful."
"Is there a way to avoid it?" asked Ultra Magnus.
"Perhaps. More testing is required to say for certain."
"What else can you tell us as of now?" asked Alpha Trion.
"She is definitely a customized protoform," started the red mech, "however, further testing is necessary to separate the original functions from the ones that were provided by the Allspark's energy."
"What about her current functions?" asked Botanica.
"At this time I have personally witnessed her technopathic abilities as she has demonstrated to be moderately skilled with machines," he began as the screen behind him lit up to show the moment in which Wheeljack's rifle exploded, "although the modifications that she made to Wheeljack's weapon did not function as expected, she reportedly assisted with the construction of the Space Bridge on Earth and the Wingblade jetpack that is currently installed on Optimus Prime."
"To what is her intelligence attributed?" asked Botanica.
"Uncertain, it may have been installed by her designer or it may be an attribute from her organic components."
"How can slimy be smart due to her…slimy…parts," said Sentinel Prime in an attempt to mock the technorganic, "they're… slimy."
"From what I have understood, the human that she imprinted on has a superior processor compared to the rest of the population," stated Perceptor, "since a human's intellect is based on their nano-components' wiring, it is possible that she may have scanned-,"
He stopped as he came to a sudden realization.
"Perceptor?" said Ultra Magnus, urging him to continue.
"I need the designs of all the personal modifications of Optimus Prime's crew as well as the Decepticons that have spent any amount of time on Earth," he said suddenly, startling the reigning Magnus, "I also need permission to review her primary coding and all of her weapons."
"Why exactly?" asked Alpha.
"I have a theory."
"…and then I said 'you know, you're even uglier from this angle!'" finished Bumblebee as a new crowd roared in laughter.
"Yo, 'Bee. Couldn't you at least use a different story?" asked Jazz as he rubbed his optics from beneath his visor, "that one got old by the sixteenth time."
"But that's the best one!"
"I'm gonna need some high-grade," moaned Bulkhead. They had arrived at Maccadam's Old Oil House thirty decacycles ago, and Bumblebee had already managed to tell that story to thirty different groups that would gather to see the heroes of Cybertron, only to leave dejectedly once they realized that they weren't up for a social visit. Their welds were still tender, and only the annoying yellow scout was up for any sort of chat.
"Make that three," sounded off a gruff voice to his left. Bulkhead and the others turned their heads at the sound to see Ratchet and Arcee. Ratchet was earnestly trying to polish something in his servos that apparently wasn't too happy with the attention. The fact that he was using a large, rotary buffer probably didn't help.
"Four," said a voice behind him, and the group turned to see Wheeljack walk in. They couldn't help but gape at the blackened armor and the number of dents that had appeared since the last time they'd seen him.
"What happened to you?" asked Bumblebee.
"The usual," said the charred mech as he sat down and called for a waitress, "tried a new experiment, it blew in my faceplates, and now my new assistant is getting polished."
"The frag she's your assistant!" grumbled Ratchet as he kept polishing the squirming creature in his servos, "you almost took her offline! If that armor of hers hadn't activated when it did, she'd be a pile of scrap right about now!"
"Better than turning into a tire rim," noted Arcee, pointing at the creature on his palm, "you might want to stop before she purges her tank on your servo."
"Huh? Oh, sorry kid."
He took the buffer of his palm and turned it off to reveal Sari spinning on her stomach like a record player on his hand. When she slowed down enough, one could have sworn that her optics had turned into spirals for a second.
"Ratch," she said as she stood up, only to lean on his thumb for support, "I love you, but would you mind getting me a smaller buffer?" then she slipped and fell into the cup of coolant that Bumblebee had been drinking.
"Lick! Table three!"
"On it Light!"
Lickety-Split had had a good shift so far, with the celebrations that had ensued from Megatron's capture she'd be rolling in tips for the next several solar-cycles. She and her sister, Lightbright had been working the dinner rush for the last three mega cycles. Though Lightbright was only there for that solar-cycle, since the Elite Guard had given all of the spare crew the day off.
"Table three… figures." She muttered as she spotted the rowdy table in the back.
Welp, tips are tips, she figured as she skated over to the table on her wheeled pedes.
"Welcome to Maccadam's Old Oil House. I hope that you have been enjoying your complimentary coolant," she said with practiced ease, as she collected the empty cups, "my name is Lickety-Split and I'll be-,"
"STOP!"
She nearly dropped the cups when the whole group shouted. An older model, a medic she supposed, leaned forward and grabbed a half-empty cup that she'd been about to put a second cup on top of.
"I'm sorry sir, I though you-," she stopped her apology midsentence when the mech reached into the cup and pulled out a diminutive, yellow femme, "Whoa."
"You alright kid?" he asked as he shook her to get the coolant off her.
"Been better," she said as he laid her on the table, she looked a little woozy, "Would be better if you hadn't shaken me like a rag doll."
"Holy frag, she's tiny!"
"Not helping," grunted the small femme, "Can I help you?"
"Uh, sorry," coughed Lickety-Split awkwardly before regaining her composure, "as I was saying, my name is Lickety-Split and I'll be you waitress this evening."
"Ran out of the cool names huh?" apparently she was angry about the comment regarding her height or lack thereof.
"Sari!" barked out the second tallest mech, a flyer from the looks of him, "Uh, I mean say you're sorry!"
"Wha- she called me tiny!"
"Welcome to my world," said a voice to the left and Split took notice of a yellow mech with horn-like sensors.
Hellooo Scout! She thought, with a slight blush. He was a Deluxe class like her and had an off-planet vehicle mode from the looks of him. As a matter of fact…
"Where are y'all from?" she asked, "never seen those alt. modes before."
"We just rolled in from Earth," said the flyer, "nice to have a normal conversation for once."
"Really? Isn't that where that Opti…mu… ," she slowed her processor as she took in the fresh welds, the foreign vehicle modes, and the large wings on the flyer, "HOLY FRAG you're Optimus Prime!"
She thought she heard Lightbright face-palm behind her, but that could have been her imagination.
"It's an honor!" she said as she rapidly shook his servo, before she noticed what she was doing, "Ahem, sorry about that. Now, your orders?"
After Lickety took their orders and forwarded them to the cook, she rushed over to fetch Lightbright from the bar.
"Why the FRAG did you not tell me that I was serving OPTIMUS PRIME and his SEXY SCOUT!?"
"Well I figured it was obvious," she said, "besides, - sexy scout?"
Split blushed as she clicked her index digits together, "well, yeah. He was kinda… cute."
"You're sure it's not just because he's short too?" Light looked over at the yellow mech, "He's still taller than you though." She paused to let that last comment bowl her vertically-challenged sister over and she grinned. "Anyways, most bots seem to notice when they serve one of the most famous Autobots in the history of Cybertron and then they tend to go fanbot on them. I was counting on your low-speed processor to serve them normally."
"Low-speed processor?" the pompoms on Lickety's helm spun as she processed the phrase before they stopped and she glared furiously at her sister, "ARE YOU CALLING ME STUPID!?"
"Of course not, that would be mean and may damage your self-esteem," Bright replied, placating her sister, "I called you slow."
"Oh, I'll show you-!"
"Anyways, did you notice that little bot on the table? I didn't know there were still minicons around."
"Want me to ask?" said Lickety, her rage apparently forgotten, "I have to give them their energon anyways."
"Neh, don't bother them," said Lightbright, "just give them their fuel."
"Order UP, table three!" shouted out the cook from the window, "Six units of oil, five high grade, six midgrade, one order of titanium triglyceride, two gold disks, six platinum melts and… an oil cap? Split! Get your afterburners over here!"
"Coming Crankshaft!" Lick yelled back, "Later Bright."
"Later Licky."
"Don't call me Licky!"
"Hello, Cybertron to Bumblebee," called out Sari, "stop staring at the waitress's aft and pay attention."
"I wasn't staring at her aft!" he protested, then he paused and added quietly, "not the whole time anyways."
"That's what you think," snorted Jazz, "just ask her for her com freq if you're interested."
"Uh, how about I don't?" he countered, "I'm not too good with the femmes."
"No, really?" teased Sari, "With your great personality, high speed, and shiny stingers I figured you'd be beating them off with a stick."
"You're making fun of me aren't you?"
"So why don't you ask her for her com?" asked Arcee.
"I'll be your wingman, err, girl… bot?" proposed Sari.
"After we refuel please," pointed out Ratchet, "I prefer to have dinner before the show."
"Come on Hatchet, you too?" jested Wheeljack.
"Hatchet?" Bumblebee.
"Glitch off Ratch-," the engineer stopped his classic rhyme at the sound of Ratchet opening the subspace on his back where he kept his tools, "aaand the femmes can tell you the rest."
"Why us?" Asked Arcee.
"Because Ratchet would probably weld his sparkplating shut if he ever hurt YOU and the little one would get cut in half if he tried."
"Again with the little!" yelled Sari, "I'm pretty tall for a ten year old human you know!"
"But you're also the size of a cyberfly," pointed out Bumblebee, "though you do pack quite a punch, and I should know."
"Not helping."
"Speaking of which, you can really take a hit!" smarted Wheeljack, "That blast fried my circuits, but all you got was a processor-ache and some dents! That armor of yours is a lot more advanced than it looks."
"What's a lot more advanced?" asked a pompous voice behind them.
"Major Chin Sir, Private Slimer, reporting for duty!" Sari said with a mock salute.
"MUTE IT!"
"Oh suck it up Major Chin," said Bumblebee, "she's just like that. I like to think I rubbed off on her."
"Whatever!" yelled out the blue Prime, "I've been instructed to take Slimy back to the Metroplex for more testing and you misfits for a secondary report!"
"After our energon," pointed out Ratchet.
"After a nap!" continued Sari, "I still have to sleep eight hours each day."
"That never kept you from staying up before," pointed out Ratchet.
"Sleep? What the frag is sleep?" asked Sentinel.
"It's not unlike our recharge cycles," said Optimus, "only, they have to do it once every sixteen megacycles for eight megacycles."
"Y'all spend a third of your lifecycles in recharge?" asked Jazz.
"Sorta," admitted Sari, "we need to load up on serotonin and other stuff that we make when we sleep."
"Where did you learn that?" asked Arcee.
"I read a whole mess of medical stuff on the way here," she explained, "I needed something to do with Bee hogging the game."
"You're the one that forgot your controller!"
"And you're the one that packed the games!"
"We're getting sidetracked," interrupted Optimus, "again. Tell the council that we'll be over in two megacycles and that we'll bring Sari with us in ten."
"This isn't up for discussion!"
"You do know that we melt when we run out of serotonin right?" asked Sari with a grin, "if we're leaving early I'm riding in you. I can get my kicks in the Well from watching scrape my goop out of your interior."
"We leave in two megacycles, no less!" yelled Sentinel with a slightly squeaky voice as he shuddered at the mental image, then he looked at the bar and walked off muttering something about high grade.
"You MELT!?" Barked Ratchet, "You've been risking your life every night just to play your slagging videogames!?"
"I made that up," said Sari as she sat down with her legs crossed, "we just get depressed."
"Then why did you tell him you melted?" asked Bumblebee.
"One, because I need to sleep, and two, it was hilarious!"
"Primus forbid that she meets the twins." Groaned Wheeljack.
"Sorry for the wait," called Lickety from behind them, "let's see, seven units of mineral oil, five high-grade energon, one mid-grade with gold shavings, titanium triglyceride bars, two gold disks, six platinum melts and… an oil cap. For teeny I guess."
"Mute it Licky," said Sari as she took the old cap, which looked like a punch bowl from her vantage point.
"…Et tu, Teeny?"
"Thank you," said Optimus, "mine's the one with iron shavings."
"Cooper slivers," called Jazz as Lickety passed out the energon.
"Lead pellets," Bulkhead.
"Large mid-grade," said Bumblebee and everyone turned to him, "I'm a lightweight alright! Small frame, small filters."
"Tell me about it," quipped Split, who'd encountered the exact same problem several times in the past.
"Silver rods," called Wheeljack.
"Silicon powder," said Ratchet as he was handed his own drink.
"Praxian crystals," called Arcee and, once again, the table went quiet as they turned to her, "What? You think I'm a lightweight just because I'm a femme? I have specialized filters. Comes with the job."
"Lucky," grunted the vertically challenged duo.
"What about me?" asked Sari.
"Oh, here have some of mine," said Wheeljack as he took the oil cap and dipped it in his energon.
"Never had energon before," she said as she swirled the blue-pink liquid in her oil cap.
"How'd you stay alive without energon?" asked Lickety, alerting them that she had not yet left their table, "is that a Minicon thing?"
"Uh, yeah," replied Sari, she'd have to ask what a Minicon was somewhere along the line.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, how'd you survive the Minicon extermination?" asked the waitress, "I thought the Decepticons had wiped y'all out."
"We found her," cut in Optimus.
"In a stasis pod," continued Bumblebee.
"On an asteroid!" finished Bulkhead.
"We think she was launched off planet before the extermination," explained Ratchet, "or even before her activation. She ran off her fuel reserves for a long time so she's only had intravenous energon."
"I see," said Split thoughtfully, "well I'd love to keep chatting, but I got other tables to tend. Call me if you need anything."
As she skated off, both Sari and Arcee noticed that she peeked at Bumblebee for a second as he tried NOT to look at her. As she left, they also caught him looking at her aft, again.
"Just ask her for her com freq already," said Arcee.
"Want me to get it?" asked Sari with a grin.
"No!" yelled Bumblebee, "uh, I mean, I'll do it myself."
As he left, both of the femmes had a hard time holding in their laughter.
"Ten cube creds say he chickens out," said Jazz.
"Twenty," countered Wheeljack.
"Deal," cut in Bulkhead and Sari, despite the fact that the later had no idea on what a cube cred was.
"So uh, I was wondering-no that's pathetic," muttered Bumblebee as he headed over to the waitress, "let's see." He spotted a nearby mirror, and stuck a pose, "You! Me! Movies? That's even worse!"
"Movies sound great!"
"GAH!" yelled out Bumblebee, only to find Lickety-Split hiding the bottom half of her face behind the tray she was carrying, "So, uh, you heard that?"
She smiled as she reached into one of her pompoms to pull out a chip.
"Here's my com frequency, I get off in ten megacycles."
"Uh, right!" stuttered Bee, "Thanks Licky."
"Don't call me Licky!" she snapped, "every time someone calls me Licky, I feel like ripping out their optics, and shoving them up their tailpipes!"
"G-g-got it."
"Ah, sorry," muttered Split as she hid behind her (bent) tray, "I just hate it when my sister calls me Licky."
"I hate it when everybot calls me little," said Bee, "I can sympathize."
"So, I'll see you later," said Split before she, well, split.
As Bumblebee headed back to his table, he couldn't help but gape at the sight of Wheeljack and Jazz handing their credits over to Sari and Bulkhead. The former of which was sitting smugly on the small pile of credits.
"You guys bet on me?"
"Yeah, you got us some of these, things," said Sari as she examined one of the hexagonal coins, each of which was easily the size of her torso, "what is this thing?"
"Money," said Bulkhead simply as he put away his earnings, "they're called Cube credits."
"Why?"
"Because they used to be worth one midgrade energon cube each," said Ratchet, "well, before the inflation anyways. Nowadays, it seems like the cubes are made of solarium."
"Tell me about it," said Arcee as she looked at the menu, "high-grade was three cubes the last time I was here, now it's up to twenty! My savings are probably worthless by now."
"Ultra Magnus said you´d be compensated for your service to the Autobot Commonwealth," said Optimus.
"I hope so, I haven't even checked if my house is still standing."
"Your neighborhood was destroyed in the war," said Ratchet grimly, "it was the battle that nearly took Omega offline as a matter of fact. It's now a memorial park in Iacon."
"So I have to start over," said Arcee sadly.
"We'll help you out," said Optimus, "we can even try to get the Constructicons here to help you build a new home."
"If we can get them away from their oil," muttered Ratchet, though he wanted to keep them clear of something, or rather somebot, else as well.
"Not to ruin the moment guys," called out Sari as she held up a coin the size of her torzo, "but how am I supposed to carry this around?"
"You'll have to open an account," said Jazz, "deal only with digital cubes too."
"Why don't you put them in your personal transwarp dimension?" asked Ratchet.
"My what?"
"The place you put your hammer in," he clarified, "I never blocked it since they're as useful as they are expensive."
Sari looked at her arms and concentrated, smiling when the compartments under her forearms opened.
"Cool!"
She quickly put away her share of her earnings, spending a few seconds gaping at the way the metal was just crumpled into the storage dimension.
"Where'd the Hammer go?" she asked, "I can't feel it."
"I'm confiscating it until we're sure you won't cut Cybertron in half," snapped Ratchet.
"Okay then, problem number two," she said, holding up the tub-sized bottle cap, "how do I drink this?"
"Just take off your mouth guard and- oh," said Bumblebee, as he realized the issue.
"What?" asked Bulkhead.
"If I take off my mouth guard and somebot peeks, I'll be stomped into a pancake."
"Well, lil' lady, this is where your size comes in handy," pointed out Jazz, "you're not too easy to notice at that size."
"Try to drink from behind the menu though," pointed out Ratchet as he propped up the metallic plating.
"Gotcha." She said as she took a sip, "This is pretty good. Tastes… lightning-y." she then proceeded to down half the cap.
"Lightning-y?" Bumblebee.
"Yeah, like ZAP and POW!" she responded before collapsing into a fit of giggles.
"Ooookay then," said the yellow mech as Sari kept giggling, "Ratch, I think Sari knocked a few circuits loose with that blast."
"I don't think that's it," he muttered as Sari downed the whole cap, "Wheeljack, what did you order again?"
"High grade with silver rods," he said as the grinder in his grill shredded one of the metal bars, "Why?"
Ratchet only pointed to Sari, who was giggling in content as Bumblebee tried to pry her off Prime's high-grade.
"Oh."
"She's not even a stellar-cycle old!" yelled Optimus as he finally managed to remove her from his cube, "not to mention her size doesn't make it any easier on her!"
"Don' be meen and share!" she whined, "daddy say-*hic*- he say we 'ave to share!"
"Her tiny systems already overloaded," observed Wheeljack. AKA, captain Obvious.
"I'm not tiny!" she cried out, unleashing a volley of energon orbs of which most hit the ceiling, though Optimus yelped as he lost part of an ear fin, "when someone calls me tiny, I – I –make funny faces!"
"We should take her home," said Bumblebee, poking her on the side.
"Remind me to get her a cube projector," said Ratchet, as he put down the tray he'd used to shield Arcee from the energon blasts, "that oil cap was the same as a stock storage cube for us."
"So she's actually a heavy drinker," said Wheeljack, "well, for her size anyways."
"I'll take her to my apartment," proposed Optimus as he started to stand up.
"Nah, my place is closer," said Bumblebee as he gently picked her up despite her protests, "I'll see you guys at the Metroplex."
He struggled to keep wriggling the technorganic femme in his servos as one would hold a fussing palm-sized infant. He waved goodbye to Lickety-Split as he walked out the door, who unexpectedly rolled over.
"You're leaving?" she said with a hint of disappointment.
"I have to, before she collapses," responded the yellow mech as he pointed at the giggling femmeling, "her kind has to recharge for eight megacycles every sixteen and the high-grade she drank is not going to help."
"Really?" asked the femme, as she poked her in the side.
"That tickles!" giggled Sari, showing that she wasn't completely out of it.
"Kinda cute like this," said Split as Sari beeped, "you know, when she's not-,"
She stopped and stared as she tried to keep her lower jaw from unhinging.
"When she's not what?" he asked before he looked down at Sari.
"Put her down – slowly," said the femme, shock written all over her faceplates.
"Why?" then the scout looked at Sari. She was snuggling against his warm spark chamber, mocha skin making soft contact against the warm plating.
Mocha skin.
Skin.
Bumblebee's processor worked slowly as he realized that Lickety had since picked up her tray defensively and seemed ready to squash Sari flat the second Bumblebee put her down.
"Wai-wai-wai-wait!" stuttered Bumblebee, "Put that down, she's harmless!"
"It's an or-mmph!" started Split before Bumblebee slapped his servo against her mouth.
"I can explain later, but for now please keep this to yourself!"
She looked thoughtfully at Sari before nodding. She then peeled off Bee's servo.
"She's an organic!" she hissed.
"Technorganic and trust me when I tell you that even the normal ones are harmless."
"But Sentinel-,"
"Is full of slag, trust me on that one."
She looked at the giggling creature on the minibot's servos before turning towards the kitchen.
"CRANK! I'm taking my break!"
"You got one megacycle, no more!" replied the cook.
"Roger that!" then to Bumblebee, "You can explain why I shouldn't just step on her on the way to your place."
"Huh?" uttered the yellow scout before thrusting his servos towards her, "Fine whatever, here."
Split looked at the small organic on his palms.
"Eh?"
"I need to load her into me."
"Oh," she gingerly picked her up with a grimace before the smaller femme rolled over to grab onto her forearm like a teddy bear. Lickety was pleasantly surprised to find that no slime was spewing out of what she figured was her mouth and she was actually quite pleasant to hold as her soft skin warmed up her plating.
"Alright, load her in gently into the backseat," said Bumblebee, already in his vehicle mode. Lickety noticed that earth vehicles were a lot boxier than the ones on Cybertron.
"You have seats in there?" asked the femme as she knelt to the open side panel/door.
"Yeah, when we first arrived on earth, we thought that the humans' vehicles were actually other bots, so we scanned them to blend in. The first time I rolled into a parking tower, I actually thought I'd accidentally stumbled into a morgue!"
"I see," she said as 'Bee wrapped the seatbelts around Sari to keep her from moving around too much.
"All right, my department's not too far from here. Ten decacycles west."
"Cool," replied Split as she transformed into her reverse trike alt mode.
"Nice ride," noted the yellow scout, "love the rims."
"Why thank you, they were a gift."