Chapter 70
-0-The Party
The party carried on late into the morning hours and by the time Ironhide and Ratchet had left toting a box filled with presents for the sparkling most of the senior Autobots were either half in the bag or leaving the scene of the crime to the younglings amongst them. The soldiers begged off about the same time and as they left the music behind to go to their quarters, Ironhide and Ratchet were in a great mood. They entered, put things down and hit the berth falling into recharge like the old slaggers that they were.
It was all good.
-0-Ratchet
That morning they energized then walked back to their quarters off line for duty until midday. Ratchet walked over and picked up the box to sit it on the berth. Reaching inside, he pulled out a ball shaped object with a large number of flat surfaces covering it, each decorated with a glyph. It was an educational toy from Perceptor, a language ball. You would roll it on the floor and it would land on a flat face exposing another one with a glyph on the top. The sparkling would say that glyph and its sound, then it would be rolled again.
It was a work of art just like everything else in the box, for all the things they received for the sparkling were made by hand. There were varying degrees of skill present but to Ratchet they were all beautiful and wondrous. The ball was silver colored with copper inlaid glyphs, a thing of beauty. Ratchet smiled and put it down on the berth to reach in again for something else.
It was a small picture book, hand drawn images of Cybertron set on thin metal plates. The edges were wood, highly polished and inlaid with shells from the Indian Ocean. It was from Sunstreaker. He looked at the pictures, the streets of Iacon, the flat plains and tall mountains beyond as a pang of homesickness filtered through his circuits, a slight sad expression forming on Ratchet's face. He wondered if their sparkling would ever see the stars of their home world again. Hardly likely, he thought, as he placed the book carefully to one side.
He pulled a blanket out that was from the soldiers, a king sized blanket of the softest material. He rubbed it against his face, a smile forming as he felt the texture. Then he opened it spying sweet images. There was a blue dog, a human baby's smiling face and images of toys scattered here and there on the yellow, blue and pink squares. It was big enough to be a nice coverlet for the sparkling. He carefully folded it and set it aside.
Rattles hand carved and covered in verses in their language, funny remarks for sparklings from famous stories found their place on the berth after careful examination. A pair of booties or so they were called came next. They were from the soldiers as well and they were large enough for the sparkling to wear for a while. He would, Ratchet vowed. He would wear the gift from the humans who loved him, too.
He held a rattle, a silver and gold ball with a swishing sound of buckshot inside. He rattled it and smiled, then put it down beside the box. Peering in, he continued.
-0-Ironhide
He sat at the table cleaning a rifle. He had broken it down and was carefully working on all its parts, wiping them down to check for wear and tear. Out of the corner of his eye he was watching Ratchet. They were older and usually by this age Cybertronians were welcoming grand kids. But they weren't living the life that made such luxury possible. They were living in war, running for their lives sometimes, retreating and advancing as the situation commanded. They had also spent time apart, agonizing vorns of separation. Those were the dark times, the times without light for both of them.
Here on this world they had a home. They were building a new world beyond the skies of this one and their sparkling would be the first one born there, to live, play and to grow up, Primus willing, to be a free mech. All the effort and loss, the tears, curses and injuries, the separations and compromises had come together in this place. Earth was the stepping stone to a hopeful future and he was grateful for all of it.
But he was mostly grateful for Ratchet. Without Ratchet's infernal sense of adventure and fun the prank war would not have arisen and they wouldn't be facing a life with that thing that was always missing, children of their own. He could have just heard the comment and let it go but Ratchet didn't. He was a contrarian, his Ratchet. But he was also fun-loving, enjoyed parties and gatherings and could dance like a dream.
Ironhide, on the other hand, was more stoic, more military, more straight forward. He loved to party, too, but he also enjoyed kicking Decepticon aft equally as much. Watching Ratchet look at the things they were given by the people that mattered the most tugged at his spark. Ratchet's appreciation, his attention to the things their child would come to love made his optics mist. He felt all the years lift with their disappointments and hardships at the sight of Ratchet's happiness. He reached for another piece of his rifle with a grin on his face as he enjoyed Ratchet's enjoyment.
-0-In the Rec Room
It was still a work in progress as the detritus of the previous night was scattered all over the place. A decision to keep the murals on the walls was unanimously reached, so they stayed there gracing the big white space with their bold impressive images of a world long lost.
Bluestreak sat with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe sipping energon as they talking quietly. The tension of their lives under the complaint had been replaced with a new one. Six decaorns would pass before they could bond and their relationship could encompass what all healthy younglings desired, intimacy.
Sitting nearby reading a datapad before going on shift was Prowl. He sipped his energon, engrossed in the data before him but not so much that he couldn't watch his son. The happiness on Bluestreak's face was a good thing. He enjoyed it. He also enjoyed the attentiveness and gentleness of the twins with Blue. He knew they felt it and they were honest in their intentions. The thing that bothered him was their attention span.
In his life with them he had admired their bravery, skill as warriors and their off beat humor. They would be surprised to hear that he did but a lot of their humor was amusing and impossible not to enjoy. Most of it was also against regulations, usually, so he had to take steps to ensure discipline in the ranks. But it didn't mean he didn't laugh when no one was around. He did. He wanted them to be a good match, a good pairing and if there was going to be infants, a stable relationship for them.
Then he considered that would make him a grand genitor of some sort. Optimus as well. Grinning, he rose and walked to the recycler to drop his cube into it. Bluestreak waved and smiled and he returned the gesture before walking out toward the door that led to Ops Center. They had a team in the field and that was priority one. His own considerations would come after they were safely back home.
-0-Ironhide
Ratchet watched him cleaning his rifle, a habit of eons standing. Ironhide was a mech's mech, a warrior without parallel in experience, intuition and skill. He trained most of the army including every mech that was on base. He was the go-to mech for Prime, also his first trainer and nothing phased him militarily.
The sparkling? That had thrown him. He hadn't been against it but he was afraid for it. What kind of life could they make for him? What kind of future? Then Prime had pulled another miracle out of nothingness making Mars a future for the born and unborn.
He was Ironhide's brother-in-arms. He was Ironhide's greatest friend after himself, Ratchet knew. There wasn't anything the two couldn't solve together and between Prime's genius and charismatic leadership, his ability to know what to do and make mechs believe in it along with Ironhide's unwavering confidence, skill and his unflagging tireless commitment to making it so, they were here, now. They were more brothers than many of those who shared a common genitor.
Ratchet walked to the table rattle in hand and sat down to look at Ironhide fondly. "That gun glistens so much I can see myself in it."
Ironhide grinned. "If you're going to do a thing, you have to do it right."
Ratchet nodded as he tapped his cheek with the rattle. He considered something. "We have to decide on our sparkling's name, Ironhide."
"You already know it," Ironhide said as he looked up at Ratchet with a grin.
"You and I agree then," Ratchet asked.
"Yep," Ironhide said.
Ratchet smiled, then leaned over to kiss Ironhide softly. "Good."
-0-In Corpus Christi, Texas
They waited through the night and nothing happened. Ops Center pinged them and they discussed the situation. They would stay one more night, then call it. The intel was still holding that Nast would hit the warehouse to try to retrieve the box they believed Arcee still occupied. For now, they had to stay put.
People came for their shifts pausing long enough to look at the cars as they passed them. Some of them tried to sit in them, finding the doors locked and access denied. One of the workers rubbing his hand stared at the Formula 1 racer inexplicably parked in the yard with a wary eye. He had tried to open the door and a jolt of electricity had bit his hand. Stepping back, ringing it to still the pain, he looked around for anything to explain the shock. Finding none, he moved off toward the Bentley Continental parked behind it.
Mirage who was smiling somewhere in his internal array was berated gently by Jazz for drawing attention beyond the usual to themselves. Mirage snorting with amusement commed back that it would be a cold day in the Pit before a peasant would fondle his door handles. Banter ensued among them all and the day passed slowly.
-0-Intel-Martin, Houston, Texas
He paced his floor, the beauty outside his windows meaningless to William 'Bill' Nast, CEO and President of Intel-Martin. He wanted his robot and the feds had her stashed in a warehouse in Corpus Christi. They also had a shipment of guns he was sending to Guatemala but he was sure that the manifest which was faked within an inch of their lives would hold. They would have to find another shipping company as this one was compromised beyond repair.
He had just finished a call from Thomas Jaspers, his field operations commander and felt slightly better. They would hit the warehouse tonight. They would hit it and take the crate away. He had a research facility outside of San Antonio ready to take her and find out what made her tick. The one he wanted, Springer he was called had not surfaced. He had a call in to High-Flyer to negotiate the purchase of that robot. He wanted them all.
Tonight he would get Arcee back, of that he was sure.
-0-Autobot City, Mars
Springer worked on the installation of the last gun turret in the settlement helping to bring online the last of five powerful long range defensive weapons. They would be long range enough to knock a ship out of the sky and he looked forward to being there when it happened, if it was to come. He also looked forward to evening the score against Starscream.
That fragger was his.
-0-Far away
Starscream considered the request by the insect Nast for Springer. The prickle of aggravation just hearing that name annoying his already incensed emotional state. Pacing, he considered the request. Finally, he decided to put it on the to-do list. With a smirk, he walked inside again, the sparkling stars above indifferent to him as ever.