Lizard: I have returned! And...what was I going to say? .......oh yeah!

There will be some very slight OOCness in this chap, but considering the circumstances I'm hoping it's understandable.

Disclaimer: No, I have not gained ownership of Transformers since the last time I posted.


'If anyone thinks recharging in a different place is difficult, they should try it in a different time,' Ratchet thought bitterly, shoving himself to his feet. His joints and hydraulics groaned and hissed at the motion after spending the off cycle on the ground and he winced. A quick glance around the room confirmed all his companions were still deep in recharge, Ironhide and Chromia pressed close against each other, Prowl still spread out where he had been laid on the berth, and Bluestreak curled into as tight a ball as he could manage. The poor youngling was taking this harder than any of them. He vented and sat in the room's only chair to wait.

He didn't have to wait long.

Prowl moaned softly and shifted. After a moment his optics flickered sluggishly back online, confusion written clearly on his faceplates.

"Welcome back to the land of the online, oh great and mighty tactician," Ratchet drawled.

Prowl jerked in surprise and looked over at the medic with a bewildered expression.

"Wh-what in Primus name…?"

"Future? Remember, yesterday…you fritzed enough times to nearly damage yourself…?" Ratchet urged.

The tactician frowned, slowly sitting up, when remembrance dawned on his faceplates. A slightly horrified expression came next, and Ratchet felt his spark lurch in sympathy. He himself had given up on being concerned about the whole ordeal as that was obviously not helping, but Prowl hadn't had the privilege of being online long enough to reach that stage.

"We're stuck here?"

Ratchet nodded, "For now. Their 'best minds' are working on a solution right now."

"Who?"

"Remember those two fledglings we met when we first arrived," Prowl nodded slowly, "Yeah, those two."

The tactician's optics flickered and reset, "Oh Primus…."

"Mm-hm. This place is a mess: they're lacking in resources, mechpower, security and just about everything else that could be construed as important," he vented and leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his faceplates, "Primus spare us if we ever force younglings to lead an entire faction without so much as a proper home."

"I think we already have," Chromia's slightly drowsy voice muttered from Ironhide's chest.

Ratchet growled slightly, "Well then we won't make the same mistake."

The femme finally sat up, rolling her shoulder joints stiffly, "How are you so sure we can change it?"

He started to snap something irritable, but paused and finally spoke in a quiet, yet fierce tone.

"I'm not, but we have to try."

She shook her head faintly but dropped the subject in favor of waking up her mate.


"Welcome back to my empire!" Echoclick greeted the five mechs and femme as they were lead through the door into his deck.

Shatterflash nodded a greeting at him and assured their "guests" one last time that she would contact them as soon as Catalytic and Shiver had any change, before taking her leave. They watched her go quietly.

"I trust you all recharged well?" their host thrummed politely, though his back was to them as he tinkered with a console on the far wall.

"Very well," Ratchet lied, leading the way further into the room, "And you?"

"Eh, I don't really recharge, just standby in my chair," Echoclick shrugged, turning around to face them, "Why do you guys always stand around so awkwardly? C'mon, sit down somewhere…by the window maybe. You could 'bot watch!"

He, grinning as usual, limped over to his chair and dropped into it heavily. With the arm not currently holding his cane he waved over at the large bay windows in invitation and it was admittedly quite tempting, but only Bluestreak and Chromia broke away from the others and almost nervously walked up to the windows. Chromia perched on an old, broken down console, and Bluestreak just leaned up to the window. The three remaining mechs stayed standing.

Beneath them, in a huge, unnatural clearing that appeared to have been formed by a crash landing of the Ark various mechs and femmes hurried about their daily tasks. In the sky, two forms swooped through the organic planet's atmosphere, one with unmistakable wings, and the other with some kind of spinning contraption that appeared to keep it air born. They seemed to be coming in from some kind of patrol and were making lazy loops and dives.

"What're those?" Bluestreak asked, pointing at the unusual flyers.

Echoclick craned his neck to see what the gunner was indicating, "Ah…oh, Bowshaft and Windstorm. Bowshaft's the jet, mech, and the helicopter is Windstorm, a femme. They're a couple of reckless show-offs, don't pay any attention to them."

As he spoke, the "helicopter" as it was apparently called, went into a wild, chaotic dance, seemingly out of control as it spun through the air. Bluestreak jerked in alarm.

"Is she supposed to do that?"

Echoclick was completely unfazed, "No, but she does it anyways. I told you, they're show-offs."

Chromia's optics had drifted back down to the ground pounders, "And I assume that one is as well?"

Echoclick tried to see over a console but from his sitting position that was impossible, so he heaved himself upright and limped over to lean on a machine nearby. It took him a moment to locate the object of her interest, and when he did he wished with his entire spark she hadn't seen him. The femme sensed his discomfort and looked at him curiously. He released a burst of static from his vocalizer before speaking.

"Yeah, he is a bit. I guess…he…he get's it from his parents."

All of them had their attention drawn to his soft, pained tone and Ratchet once again played the spokesmech of the group.

"Do you know him well?"

Echoclick nodded slowly, "We're friends, all of us are of course. It's just…"

At that moment the target of their conversation, who had been laughing and fooling around with what looked like Clippershot, spun out two cannons and fired a few playful rounds into the sky. Chromia froze and Echoclick stopped talking.

Finally after a long moment the femme finished his sentence, "He's ours."

The communications expert watched at her sadly, "His name is Avalanche. He's our…weapons specialist."

She didn't respond, just stared down, mouthplates slightly open at the sight of this stranger who was hers. He was a large fledgling, with a light color scheme, besides the two red cannons he was now drawing back into his arm. The blue shoulder armor was hers, she recognized it even from this distance, but when he turned around she spotted another out of place piece. A single black shoulder plate on his back.

"Whose armor is that?" she asked distantly.

Echoclick shifted, "I don't know if…"

Abruptly her optics were fixed on him, burning with barely contained fury, "Tell me."

He hesitated a moment longer before relenting. In a voice almost too quiet to hear he responded, looking intently at the floor panels.

"Avalanche's older brother. His name was Steelback. Before you…went, he was…," he grimaced at the memory of what was doubtless a black time, "He was killed in battle protecting a neutral femme. One shot through the spark, an instant deactivation. Avalanche was the first one to start our tradition with the armor."

But Chromia had stopped listening at the words "killed in battle." Her entire body shuddered and a faint keening noise sounded from her vocalizer, a small, weak moan. She had no idea who Steelback was, what kind of mech he had been, when he was created, what he had treated them like, she didn't know her son. And her son had died because they were loosing a war that they had all messed up and now their children were paying the price for. She at first barely processed Ironhide's arms around her, and when she did it completely broke her barriers and she turned into him with a choked sob. She hadn't even known him, and he was deactivated.

Echoclick watched, feeling physically ill. Steelback's deactivation was the first of many that came over far too short a period, and worse, Echoclick had been right there. It was the first deactivation he had witnessed up close, and it was his best friend's. And now here he was, telling the tank's parents their son was gone all over again. Everyone in the room looked stunned, though whether it was at the news or at the sight of the normally indestructible Chromia's sudden vulnerable state, he wasn't sure. After some time her sobs formed into words, words he was oddly surprised to hear.

"We have to do something."

Echoclick froze, optics wide. They wanted to fix everything, which meant changing the past, which meant…was that even possible? The communications specialist felt for the first time in far too long a flicker of hope that maybe, maybe things could be right. They could survive. With sudden purpose he whipped around and limped rapidly out of the room.

"I'll be back in a few! I've got someone I need to talk to face-to-face…."


"I don't know if that's-"

"Why not? Our experiences are decided by past choices, right? So if they make different choices in the past, doesn't that mean our experiences would be different too?" Echoclick was excited now, desperately latching on to even the faintest chance.

Shiver considered this, "Well yes, but I was going to say I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Why?"

She vented and rolled her optics, "Echoclick, you do realize even the smallest change in events could alter the timeline so irreparably we might not even exist? You all are so determined to make a difference you're forgetting the consequences that kind of difference would have! We already may have caused Primus knows what kind of messes just by interacting with them."

The mech threw his hands up, "Shiv, maybe you're the one who needs to rethink the way you look at the universe. At least we have the ability to pretend that we might have a fighting chance."

Shiver glowered, "But that's just it, you're pretending. I'm a scientist, I don't pretend anything. The fact is we're loosing, and there's nothing we can do about it."

He shook his helm, "I'm not saying we can do anything about it, but they can! And they will, too! Primus, Shiv, if I cease to exist but all those other innocent lives get to go on, I don't have a problem with that, partly because I won't have a problem with anything seeing as I won't exist. No one will miss us because we will never have been at all!"

She stared at him a long moment, "I will never understand you."

"But I'm right, aren't I?"

The femme twisted her mouthplates, "Theoretically it could work, but no promises, and even if it does, we won't know the difference."

He nodded, "Then we go on with what we're doing, but just think, the Autobots might have a chance!"

Shiver vented and nodded reluctantly, watching him go with sad, tired blue optics. Once he was out of the room she shook her helm and returned to her feverish work.

"You say no one will miss us, what about them?"


Lizard: Poor Shiver is a fatalist XD

Two new 'bots (who you probably won't hear about ever again!)! They are:

Bowshaft

Windstorm

Hopefully not too hard, but I will tell you this, Bowshaft isn't much like his dad. He's a little...nuttier. And more stupid. But we won't get into that ;)

Ah! And thank you to my sister who just reminded me to tell you all that there is a poll on our page asking about...well these guys. I'd like my readers' input and complete honesty on this one. Thank ya'll!

LIZARD OUT