Lizard: I'm baaaa-aaack! Eh, better late than never, I guess.

Now, in this chapter I reveal the parents of all four of the 'bots from last chapter. I'll recap at the end in case you miss it. And...that's all I have to say at this point so....here ya go!

Disclaimer: Believe it or not, I don't own Transformers! Fancy that!


"Is he okay?" Echoclick asked, concern evident in his voice as he leaned forward in his chair to see Prowl around Ratchet's crouching frame.

Ratchet snorted, "Anymore of this and he'll damage himself. I'm leaving him offline for the time being, give his processors some time to recover."

The young mech nodded slowly and leaned back, shooting them a sheepish look, "My bad, I forget sometimes how things used to be. Now it's all just natural, but I guess in your time it'd be pretty unlikely."

Chromia's systems huffed, "Unlikely isn't a word I would use."

"More like impossible." Ironhide agreed.

Echoclick chuckled and leaned back to a more comfortable position, "Okay…well, you can ask any other questions you have I guess, or look out the windows. Ya know, bot watch. Most of 'em will be outside at this time, most of the living quarters on the ship were decimated vorns ago."

Ratchet thrummed, before straightening. He glanced over at Bluestreak, who had sat down on the floor and was holding his head in his hands; the kid was taking this hard.

"What can you tell us about this Ebonyshield?" he asked, sitting back down.

Echoclick whistled through his vents, "Tons. She's become the Autobot figure head, our new Optimus Prime. She's the rallying force behind it all, the Commander's the technical leader by default, but when it comes down to it, she's the one they all look to."

"And…this is Sunstreaker's daughter? The psychotic sociopath Sunstreaker?" Ratchet asked skeptically.

The crippled mech smirked, "We aren't quite sure how it happened either, to be honest. Could be her femme creator…someone said it may have to do with the spark split between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker like…because they're the same spark split in two, some of him slipped over into her…or…something like that. I don't know, I don't ask. Not my area," he held up his hands, "She's not exactly a fighter either. She can fight, but not well."

Ratchet tilted his head, "So she wasn't built to be a warrior."

"Nope, diplomat. Femme creator's work, not Sunstreaker's. Though, everyone was still shocked at how well that actually went over," he added thoughtfully.

Ironhide's old systems rumbled in agreement, "I take it then there isn't a Prime anymore?"

Echoclick's smile was sort of sad, "No. Optimus Prime was the last we had. And his son…great guy and all but uh…have you met Topliner yet? Tall, red and white, a little dorky looking…."

They nodded, so he continued.

"Yeah, that's Elita One and Optimus Prime's son. Once again, we're…not sure what happened," he rubbed the back of his helm, "He's a good bot, but…Ebonyshield has him beat in the leadership department."

They lapsed into silence for a moment, each consumed by their own thoughts. Chromia was looking out the enormous bay window, down at the mechs and femmes milling about below. She guessed none of them could see her, and none looked up anyways. Their frames were scarred and often appeared to not fit right, but they still all looked much too young. A range of different expressions touched a range of different faceplates. Some looked angry, others afraid, and still others looked like all was right with their world, even though obviously nothing was.

"Why doesn't their paint all match?"

She didn't realize at first she had asked the question out loud until Echoclick started answering.

"You haven't figured it out yet? Alright, I assume you've met Catalytic, so you saw his headfins? Yeah, those are Wheeljack's, his mech creator. And my shoulder and cuff armor was my creators', both of them. This patch on my arm," he indicated a light brown forearm piece, "was my sister's."

He smiled sadly, "When things started to go bad, we lost access to materials, so we had to salvage from deactivated bots. A sort of…tradition was started, whenever someone from your family is deactivated, you get some physical piece of them before their parts are taken for others. We don't change the colors or anything; it's our way of remembering them, in a physical sense. We keep going because of what we've had to leave behind us."

Ratchet was carefully scrutinizing the young mech, before his optic's widened, "Ah, I see it now. Those shoulder plates are from that mech…Blaster?"

Echoclick nodded, "Yeah. I don't think you know my femme creator yet."

Chromia frowned and looked back out at the clearing below the ship, "So that's why Ebonyshield had the odd cuff armor?"

"Yep. If you look out there you might see some other things you recognize."

"Wait," she paused and turned back to him, "You said your sister? Does that mean…."

His faceplates were completely neutral as he answered, "It isn't just the creators who have been killed. Many bots younger than me have met an untimely and violent end. My sister was barely out of younglinghood when a stray shot pierced her spark chamber. Mercifully it was after loosing our creators already, so they didn't have to suffer, but not everyone was so lucky…."

A sharp squeal from one of the machines cut off any continued conversation as Echoclick rose to acknowledge it. His one leg made a painful sounding groan and his frame creaked a bit at the unnatural weight dispersal, but he didn't even twitch while limping across the room to the still complaining machine. A few pressed keys and a flip of a switch and the alarm stopped, if it could even be called an alarm. Bluestreak had finally lifted his head to watch the mech's progress. Echoclick awkwardly hobbled back and lowered himself carefully back into the chair, grimacing only for a moment when something in his lower chassis caught uncomfortably.

"What happened to you?" Bluestreak asked softly, optics scanning over the mangled stump that had once been a leg.

Echoclick looked up from readjusting some wiring in his other leg, "Bomb. Blew my leg clean off, and they couldn't repair it enough to reattach it. I gave up most of my armor because I wouldn't need it anymore and we have so few supplies someone else could use it more than me. Besides, at this point even if the Decepticons did somehow get inside it would be too late for me. It's not like I could really hold them off with only one leg, so I'd be deactivated either way."

He vented heavily and gave Bluestreak a slight grin, which the gunner returned somewhat shakily, "It's not very good here then, is it?"

Echoclick's expression softened, "No. It really isn't, but that won't stop us. Really though, this is such a morbid conversation we're having. A subject change is an order…actually; maybe you've all had enough for one orn. How about I find out if Shatterflash can get you someplace to recharge besides my floor, huh?"

He grinned brightly at them and held up a hand as he activated a comm. with the young femme. A moment later and he nodded.

"She'll see what she can do. Oh, and if you need anything for his…logic chip problem, just let me know and I'll talk to First Aid," he assured.

Ratchet's faceplates twisted in a slight grimace, "First Aid…he was the mech from the meeting, wasn't he? He didn't appear to be too fond of us."

Echoclick's sad smile returned, "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't know him yet, would you?" he shook his helm as though answering his own question, "He changed in the war. Everyone did, but I mean he used to be polar opposite of what you see today. That's beside the point though. He's CMO anymore, so he's the one I'll have to talk to about anything medical."

Before anyone could ask anymore questions, there was a loud thud and clang followed by and exclamation of "Ow!" and the clatter of someone trying to get up.

Echoclick tilted his head to look at the door, one optic ridge raised.

"You okay out there, 'Liner?"

There was a pause followed by a muffled, "Yeah, 'm fine!"

The reddish mech rolled his optics, "Are you…coming in?"

"Gimme a minute!" There was a shuffling sound and finally the door slid open to reveal a slightly dented and scuffed Topliner grinning sheepishly at them, "Sorry, had to untangle my limbs."

Echoclick snorted, "What did you trip on? There's nothing outside that door except dust."

Topliner twisted his mouthplates a bit and shifted to one leg, "Really big dust. Evil dust. Tried to kill me."

Ironhide exchanged a look with Ratchet. This was the creation of the great Optimus Prime and Elita One?

The mech apparently sensed their incredulous thoughts and turned his attention onto them, "Don't judge me. Anyways, your stuck with me for the next…oh, three breems? Eh, however long it takes to get to what's left of the crew's quarters."

Echoclick chuckled, "Primus, she works fast doesn't she? Well, looks like this is goodbye for the orn, eh? Do you need me to call someone to help with Prowl?"

Ratchet looked down at the offline tactician, "No, we'll manage."

He ran some quick scans to make sure Prowl wouldn't wake up when he was moved, then waved Ironhide over to help him lift the other mech, carefully adjusting his doorwings to stay out of the way. As he worked he listened to the light banter going on behind him.

Topliner leaned forward to see what was going on, "What did you do to him? Bore him to death with your chatter, 'Click?"

"No, I think it was a delayed reaction to your stupidity."

The younger mech scoffed, "I am not stupid! I'm inept. There's a difference. And your leg looks like slag, by the way."

Echoclick rumbled slightly, whether in suppressed laughter or warning was unclear, "That's what bombs do, slaghead."

"Yes, but you were playing with some wires or something, so they're hanging out funny. It's gross."

The disabled mech snorted and rolled his optics, but grinned at the lanky mech, "Get out of here, ya fraggin' klutz. I don't need you tripping and crushing my equipment again."

Topliner just smirked and waved a hand at him almost dismissively, optics wandering back to his charges, "You guys coming? I swear it's not a long walk. Want help with him?"

He waved a hand at Prowl as Ratchet and Ironhide leaned over to lift him with his arms over their shoulders. Ratchet shook his head and waved for the young mech to continue on ahead of them. Chromia tugged on a rather depressed looking Bluestreak's arm to get the young gunner moving. They trudged along down the halls, Topliner at the head and with a slightly off-kilter gait. As far as Ratchet could tell, the young mech had some kind of equilibrium problem, something that would be very difficult to repair, especially with the amount of supplies these bots apparently had. After walking for a ways, someone slid silently out of a dark, gaping hole in the wall, presumably where a door had once been. The grayish and brown mech fell into step next to Topliner for a moment, apparently engaging some silent conversation, before dropping behind to the back of their little group next to Bluestreak and Chromia.

"Good evening," the mech thrummed quietly and Chromia recognized him as one of the "officers" from before.

She snorted in response while Bluestreak remained quiet, "Whatever you say."

He hm'ed softly, "Of course, it's been a rough orn for all of us, hasn't it? You all the most I suppose. I'm Clippershot, since you all were rushed through introductions rather quickly earlier."

The femme nodded in acknowledgement, "And I assume you already know who we all are."

He smiled dryly, "We were acquainted. I was told to ask if anyone had any medical complaints," he gave them an inquiring look.

With a small frown, Chromia shook her head, "No, I don't."

Bluestreak just shrugged sullenly, and Clippershot shot him a sympathetic look.

Chromia, however, was feeling a powerful sense of curiosity and finally gave in to the temptation, "If you don't mind my asking…who was your creator?"

Clippershot nodded as though he had expected the question, "Hound. He taught me everything I know. I don't believe you met my femme creator yet. And yes," he added in a remarkably light tone, "He was deactivated several vorns ago."

Bluestreak winced slightly at the simply stated fact and the mech's distant manner. He seemed more mature than some of the others, yet he appeared to be younger than Bluestreak himself. Which lead to another question….

"Wh-what is your position?" he asked awkwardly, "I mean, like, what is your job, because I know they said you were one of the officers, but I'm not sure…" he broke off and looked nervously at the mech.

"Special Ops Head. Not that we use that department much anymore, it's mostly a sentimental thing," Clippershot drawled dryly.

The gunner's faceplates twisted slightly, "Wait so that means that Jazz is…."

Clippershot tilted his helm briefly in confusion before realization dawned, "Oh, you mean the previous Special Ops Head? Ah…I never knew him. He was deactivated in the initial attack on Iacon before my creators even met."

Both the older 'Bots tensed at that. It didn't seem possible for the ever lucky and outgoing Jazz of all mechs to have been killed so long ago these nearly full grown 'bots didn't even know who he was. A universe without Jazz was…depressing.

Ahead of them Topliner was talking casually with Ironhide and Ratchet, his easy manner a contrast to the dark mood that hung over them. He moved unsteadily, yet confidently, quite a feat, and seemed concerned yet aloof towards the others. With a slight shock, it occurred to Chromia he must be hurting. All of them must be.

From what they had been told, these youthful, seemingly inexperienced bots had seen nothing but death since the time of their sparkinghood. They had watched their lives be stripped away and had finally begun to heal some of the scars, when they had shown up and ripped it open again. Even though she knew it wasn't their fault, she couldn't help the feeling of guilt that brought and she tugged at her bond with Ironhide miserably, to which he responded with a loving wave of warmth and understanding.

Clippershot rumbled next to her in slight annoyance at something Topliner had said, "He's really not as foolish as he acts, and somewhere in there he actually does respect his elders," he looked at them out of the corner of his optics, "If there's one thing Topliner is good at, it's acting."

Chromia managed a slight bark of laughter, "And you're sure this is Elita's creation?"

He grinned, "No, I'm not. I've never been convinced."

"To be honest, you're not a whole lot like Hound either, from what I know of him," she added, a bit cautiously.

Clippershot nodded, "So you've told me before."

As soon as that sunk in she jerked, vocalizer going silent. He looked at her with a neutral expression then turned back to stare ahead. The awkward silence was ended when with a flourish Topliner "presented" them with their room. He grinned like it was the best suite in the Towers on Cybertron, even though the door stuck and groaned, the walls were blackened and dented, most of the lights didn't turn on, and is was obvious no one had lived there in a long, long time.

"We're sorry it's not much, but it's the best we could do," Clippershot murmured.

Topliner laughed slightly, "Aw, it's not so bad. I mean, c'mon, Watcher-" He stopped when Clippershot's engine growled warningly, "Hey, Prowl's offline, it's not like he can hear us! ...Fine, never mind."

Clippershot resolutely ignored the curious looks the others were giving him and Topliner glowered sulkily at him. With a wave of his arm Clippershot invited them to go inside the dim room. Just as Ratchet and Ironhide had set down Prowl on what remained of the berth, however, a muffled thud rumbled from somewhere beyond one of the side walls.

"Huh, so he is alive…," Topliner thoughtfully muttered.

Ratchet frowned, looking first at the wall, then back at their guides, "I thought no one lived in the ship anymore."

Topliner tilted his head back and forth in indecision, "Well, really the only way we know he's alive is when he talks over the alarm system or shoots the wall like that. Or when his daughter tells us, but it's nice to have some good evidence for yourself, you know?"

Bluestreak reset his optics, "Shoots….the wall?"

"Yeah," the young mech drew out the word slowly, "He, uh, he has a few loose bolts. I guess Shatterflash says he sees things or something, maybe his own shadow, I dunno."

Clippershot rolled his optics, "Have some respect, Topliner, the mech has been serving since their time," he pointed out.

Four helms jerked in their direction, and Ratchet voiced the thought in all their processors, "Who?"

Clippershot looked about ready to say he couldn't tell, but Topliner beat him to the punch, "His name's Red Alert. Our security director, technically, but Shatterflash is really the one we go to, since….no one has even seen him besides her in…how long?"

He turned to Clippershot, who was currently holding his helm in his hands. The Special Ops mech slowly lifted his faceplates, scraping his servos against them slightly and glaring at Topliner.

"Four vorns. And you and I are having a talk later," he rumbled, then returned his attention to the four alarmed looking 'bots, "I think that's enough chatter for one orn, I hope you all rest well."

With that parting statement he grabbed Topliner's shoulder, despite it being a good pede length above his helm, and dragged the other young mech off, leaving Ironhide, Chromia, Bluestreak, and Ratchet alone with an offline Prowl and more questions than they knew what to do with.


Lizard: Okay, review time! Who was Echoclick's father? Answer: Blaster! Congrats to both Faecat and Kaede Akira for gettin' it right!

Shatterflash: I was a little vague saying this in the chap, but it's Red Alert. Yep, our favorite glitchy security director has a daughter!

Clippershot: Hound. Which, Miss Faecat, I think is pretty close to Mirage, so...yeah.

Topliner: Heheh...Admit it, Optimus Prime and Elita One having a failure for a child is awesome.

If anyone was confused by Topliner's mention of someone named "Watcher" that's their last officer who was left out of the meeting because, yes, he is Prowl's creation. And yes, Topliner has a big mouth XD.

If Ebonyshield seems like a Mary Sue and thus you don't like her, well...I don't either, so...whatever. She just felt necessary, but she isn't a huge part of the story, so no worries.

And now...leave questions comments and anything else in a review and we'll all be dandy! ;)

LIZARD OUT