Chapter 141
-0-The hearing, Washington, D. C: A Child's Life ...
Then she brought up Orion.
Ratchet felt tension flash from himself to Prowl and back. They both glanced at each other, then back again to the kind face and deeply felt affection of Andrea Hoxley. She was holding up newspapers that were taking cheap shots at the idea of the Autobots having children, especially infants amongst themselves. Rude speculation was also in them about mechanical reproduction including crude and demeaning cartoons of bots opening cans and pulling out robotic children.
They were awful, hurtful and filled with stupid unleavened meanness. Many were accompanied by blurry photos. Ratchet and Prowl, ironically parents of all the younglings and sparklings being discussed sat in aggravated silence. The cameras trained upon them, going in for closeup shots of Ratchet's calm but alert expression and of Prowl's deeply and falsely passive one. A camera setting up behind him was trained on his wings. Apparently, someone in the camera mix had figured it out.
"I find these kind of remarks and speculations deeply disturbing," Hoxley said putting down the magazines, the newspapers and excerpts from commentators both in radio and television. "I'd like to give you time to address this commentary."
Ratchet nodded then glanced at Prowl who flicked his wings in annoyance and anger.
:Kick them hard, Ratchet: Prowl sent to him over their link.
:Eyes on the prize, Ratchet: Jazz said.
:Do both, Ratchet: Ironhide added.
Ratchet briefly smirked then pinged Prime. :Discretion on things or do I hold back anything about them and events lately?:
:Complete discretion, Ratchet: Prime said.
:Thank you, Optimus:
:Tell 'em to frag off about the sparkling, Ratchet. And the younglings. Don't forget to tell them about the hummer trying to kill them and all of it: Ironhide interjected.
Ratchet chuckled. :I will: He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor for a moment. Then he looked up into Andrea Hoxley's kindly face. "Do you have children? Grandchildren?"
"Both," Hoxley said.
"Our people can pinpoint almost exactly … we call them younglings and sparklings … when the last child was born to our memory which is very very long." Ratchet said. "As far as we can calculate, among us anyway in our garrison, it was millions of years ago. Bumblebee is the last sparkling and youngling that I had a hand in raising," he said glancing over at the Camaro. "War took us off the map. War and the loss of the Allspark have put us on the brink. In our garrison and even before that I'd ask the mechs and the occasional femme that I'd meet, 'You ever see a sparkling? You ever see a real live child?' And the answer almost every time was no."
He gathered his thoughts. The room was silent as a tomb. "It's a tragedy on a scale that's hard to quantify that this should be true. Our garrison is almost to the last mech free of memories of children. Imagine your own world free of children. No children. Anywhere. Not for the lifetime of some small stars." He sat back up shaking his head. "Its tragic," he said quietly. "But don't feel sorry for us. We're always a hopeful people. We got refugees in, refugees who heard Prime's call. They came and there were a handful of orphans in their midst. Little younglings."
He smiled and clasped his hands. "I wish you could have seen our mechs around those little almost mythological creatures … younglings and sparklings, imaginary creatures to most of them. They were overtaken with love and they remembered how our people view our young. They're everyone's young. Everyone has a stake in their raising. Everyone is responsible. We don't worry about child care or children going astray. There's mechs lined up around the block to take care of them, to feed them, read books, play with them and watch while they rest. It's a miracle that this small handful of a hopeful future came to us out of the vast endless cruelty of unforgiving space."
He gathered his thoughts again. "We're very aware of the commentary about us, about our little ones. We feel the pain of it, the indecency. The cold cruelty of the remarks, the lack of an attempt to understand or care about how precious they are to us, the lack of understanding or caring about our past and how this could be such a miracle, the finding of a handful of our children. This we all feel deeply.
"Anger doesn't express what we feel. Children are off limits. Children are protected and cherished. Even in our war, sparklings and younglings are pointedly exempt from harm on both sides as best as circumstances could make it. I can only remember a couple of times seeing children get hurt. We try on both sides to prevent it. Decepticons try, we try. Our children, your children should be the last target anyone with a soul, anyone who pretends to a god, anyone who professes their superiority should focus upon. But they have, the media, opportunistic politicians and pundits, the cold hearted sparkless individuals that see no decency and no dignity in anything.
"We have bled for you. We have been pushed to the door of death defending you and your world. And as we defend you, we defend with even more vigor and effort your precious, irreplaceable, lovely children. Yet, this happens to ours. You make us 'other', the unacceptable, the ones for whom it doesn't matter if harm comes because they aren't 'like us', like you. But we are. For all our differences we are very much like you.
"I asked the genitors … the parents of the orphans, the younglings and the one lovely little sparkling to allow me to show you what they truly are. And they agreed reluctantly. Reluctantly. We protect our little ones, keeping them private because they're precious to us and we'll keep them from harm even if we die doing it. But this time, for this one time, I want to throw back the armored walls and let you see the individuals that your press, politicians and evil sparked people have been beating in public for months for cheap political points."
Ratchet straightened then shifted as he looked around the room. "Please look at the empty space at the end of the panel and let me show you just what we fight for," he said pressing a point on his helm. A beam of light shot out from his optics, an image formed and solidified. It was Silverbow. Everyone looked at her and a murmur began in the crowd, a murmur of wonder and appreciation.
-0-At Diego Garcia
Hound and Trailbreaker sat in the rec room watching the hearing on the screens that had been moved into there. The place was filled to the brim as everyone sat watching quietly. Silverbow was dozing on Hound's lap, her bear in her arms so she didn't care. She was with her fathers and that's all that mattered to her. For Hound and Trailbreaker, it all mattered. It was the only thing.
-0-Autobot City, Mars
It was as silent as a tomb all around the city as mechs -civilian and military- stood or sat around monitors listening and watching the hearing. In the Ops Center sitting in a chair near to the main monitor, Starscream listened, too, his servo resting on his chassis. Thundercracker and Skywarp sat nearby watching as well. They were guests of Ultra Magnus who sat with them, watching as their future lay in the blazing red servos of Ratchet.
-0-At the hearing
The image of Silverbow was of a shy halting child standing with her arms around her chassis and fear on her face as she clutched a yellow cup in her little servos. She was beautiful and frail, slim and frightened. The image had taken a time to get, Silverbow having been uncertain what was needed. Sunstreaker who asked Hound to get her cup managed to get her to pose and later when he did again, she would be more relaxed. She loved Sunstreaker and he loved her.
"This is Silverbow and she's a youngling femme. She should be bigger and stronger, less frail and able to talk. She's none of those things because of the circumstances of her growing up in war and refugee camps all over the place. Her father disappeared going to get food for her and her mother who also was murdered over food. When he didn't come back, she had to find food and was killed, murdered in the attempt. We believe Silverbow saw it but we can't be clear because she doesn't talk yet beyond sparkling … infant … language. She's very sweet, loving and has two mechs who are raising her." Her pink and green paint scheme gleamed like glass.
The image changed and three solemn looking mechs standing together came into view, two of them huddled against one who was older and taller. His arms were around them and a worried expression was on his face. "This is Rambler, the oldest, T-Bar the middle mech and Spirit, the smallest. They're brothers. We do know that they saw both their genitors … their parents murdered in a raid. They've been making their way alone for some time, Rambler taking care of them as best he could. I estimate he would be about eight years old if he were human. The others are younger accordingly. Spirit doesn't speak beyond a couple of baby words. The others do."
The next picture was a charmer. It was Orion. He was sitting on a blanket facing the camera. He held his language ball, the one Perceptor made for him before he was born and he was staring at the camera directly. His little arm bore three yellow stripes. His little black pug nose, his little black finials contrasting with a strip of silver along each side of the crown of his little helm and his direct unwavering gaze brought a ripple of laughter and applause to the crowd. "This is our youngest. He's an infant or a sparkling as we call him. He's the apple of his genitor's eyes, I'll tell you, and so loved. All of our infants and younglings are loved."
The picture changed showing Silverbow digging in the sand with a smile on her face and Spirit next to her holding a bucket. Behind them was T-Bar with Rambler wading in the surf, splashing each other as they laughed. Another picture showed Orion in a tub of water giving a phenomenally aggravated cross expression to the individual trying to wash him. Black brawny arms were all that could be seen. Everyone laughed at the infant as Ratchet smiled.
More pictures came up. Rambler and T-Bar riding their bike without training wheels, all of them sitting on a lap gathered around a book as an unidentifiable mech read to them. There were pictures of them playing ball, looking at planes and walking hand-in-hand with an adult. None of the adults could be seen beyond an arm or servo here and there. There were pictures of Silverbow looking up at a genitor nearly tipping over backwards to see their faces, faces that were never shown. She was shown holding her bear proudly, her dinner cup daintily, her wash cloth capably.
Dozens of pictures moved past one after the other, all of them showing lovely children, children with scars, children now with hope and the edges and pieces of the mechs that loved and cared for them, the mechs that now were their family. Dozens of them were posed by Sunstreaker, lovely haunting pictures, funny pictures, intuitive pictures that showed their personalities, their unique alienness, their universal child nature.
Rambler was shown drawing, reading a book with someone, riding his bike, helping his brothers, sitting in someone's lap napping. His brothers were shown playing, sleeping and eating, all of them happy and attached to the adults that were helping them. That they were Prowl and Prime, no one knew. They just knew someone was taking care of them together.
Orion was shown being held in surf staring at the bubbling water flowing around his tiny peds. He was shown flapping on his stomach as he struggled to move across the floor. He was shown being burped, patted, held in arms and fed. But who was doing it was never shown. Yellowish-green arms and all black arms were in most of the pictures but the faces weren't.
They were shown in groups and separately, doing things together as younglings as well as being alone. They were shown trying to hold Orion, the mellow sparkling sometimes sagging out of their grip and sometimes hanging too far upside down out of their lap. Those were amusing photos.
Some were poignant. T-bar helping Spirit do something simple. Silverbow holding onto her bear tightly as she stood between someone's legs, hiding and peering out. Rambler reading a book to his siblings brought an 'aww' moment to the crowd and Orion sitting with a binky in his mouth holding a small book upside down brought a laugh.
The last picture was a short video. The children were walking ahead of the camera on the beach holding hands and chatting together although you couldn't hear them speaking. When they reached the shore they turned and smiled at the camera together, servos in hand, bodies poised perfectly as they did. Their smiles were as bright as the sun on their faces. When they did, Ratchet froze the image, holding it for the crowd to see. Finally, it faded.
Immediately, another video image began of Orion sitting on a blanket with binky in place as he struggled to stay awake. His head nodded over and over as he sank forward, jerking up immediately to groggily look around. Sucking fiercely on his binky, he began to trail off and jerked again. He did it a third time and this time his helm hit his knees as the infant fell into recharge. He also fell over on his side. The laughter and clapping from that clip was long and loud.
Ratchet listened to the internal conversation a moment then looked at Hoxley. "That's who the media, politicians and sparkless cowards out there have been slamming. Yes, Senator, we're sad about it. We're angry about it, too."
"I can understand that, Ambassador. Thank you for the opportunity to see something more of who you are."
"Thank you for your kind help in making it possible. But that's not the worst thing our younglings have faced, scorn and derision in the press. There was an incident that happened just a day or so ago that involved some of these children. Two of them, Spirit and Silverbow were at the beach with their genitors. They were just walking out of the water when a hummer careened out of nowhere and barreled straight toward them. Only the swiftness of the two mechs with them leaping out to grab them out of the way saved the two from being killed. When they did this, saving the children, one of them had his foot crushed when he glanced off the grill of the truck. It was a deliberate act of provocation that was aimed at the weakest among us, our children."
"Did you find out who did this?" Hoxley asked shocked.
"We know," Ratchet said. "The hummer was taken from the motor pool and dumped into the ocean afterward but we know it was mercenaries from Daniels' contingent."
"And you know this because?" Weaver interrupted.
"You'll find out when the special investigator the State Department is sending writes their report. You remember those? The ones you don't bother to read." Ratchet looked at him with a level gaze.
"You as an ambassador should know better than make unsubstantiated remarks in a hearing," Weaver persisted.
"And so should you and Senator Brinks. You didn't bother to read any of the reports filed over the behavior of the mercenaries but you're filled with charges and accusations at us, the ones exonerated each time, charges all of which the reports have found to be false," Ratchet said in reply. "Or is that alright for you to do and not anyone else?"
"You're out of order, Ambassador," Weaver said as he leaned forward angrily pounding his gavel on the table.
"How? How am I out of order?" Ratchet asked.
Senator Hoxley intervened at that moment. "Senator Weaver, you're wasting my allotted time. I am asking for more time to recover from this ridiculous argument you insist upon having with the Ambassador."
At this point the argument switched to Hoxley and Weaver. Ratchet sat back then glanced at Prowl.
He was staring at them as if they were insane and in Prowl's ordered logical world view they probably were.
Ratchet grinned at him then waited. This was child's play compared to some of the pits he had wallowed in for the Autobot Cause.
-0-Ops Center, Autobot City, Mars
Starscream watched the arguments shaking his head as he did. The images of the little sparkling and the younglings were lovely to his optics. He would be transferring his hatchlings into an incubation pod shortly and as he watched the hearing he made up his mind. Ratchet would be the one who would do this for him. No one else would do. He made the comment over the trine bond. They looked at him then nodded. It was unanimous. Only Ratchet, fearless and oddly painted champion of children and the Cybertronian people would do.
-0-Ops Center, Diego Garcia
Prime watched quietly, the odd comment here and there reaching him over the internal comm link as Ratchet and Prowl sought advice now and again. But all things being equal, he didn't have to do anything beyond let Ratchet know that he was there and he supported him because he did. A thousand times he had and a thousand times Ratchet had gone out and done battle in the arena of words for the Autobot Cause.
Ironhide sitting beside him with Orion firmly in the crook of his arm glanced at Prime. "I have to say that Ratchet looks like one beautiful mech out there."
Prime nodded. "Right now, he's the most beautiful mech I can see. Of course, the one sitting with him is pretty beautiful, too."
Ironhide nodded. "They shine up pretty well don't they?"
Prime laughed out loud as he glanced fondly at Ironhide. "They do."
"I told Ratchet about my dream of him wearing that paint scheme. He is one sexy medic in that set of colors and the chevron? I love them. Prowl has a nice chevron."
"He does," Prime said. "Mech wings and a red chevron. What more can a bot ask for?"
"You got me," Ironhide said with a smirk.
They grinned at each other then settled back to watch Ratchet do battle with the next two Senators, both of them unfriendly and both of them representing deeply conservative constituencies in their otherwise mostly normal states.
-0-At the hearing
"Mr. Ambassador," Senator Thomas representing Montana began, "why shouldn't we believe that if you and your garrison go that the Decepticons will leave us alone?"
"Because they never have in like situations in all the time that we've been at odds. You've set off a spark throughout their empire. The news that they can be defeated and that relatively weak organics like you were a large part of that has given hope to a lot of species who live in Decepticon bondage."
"You consider us weak?" Thomas asked with offense in his voice.
"Physically, yes. In most other areas, no," Ratchet clarified.
"Really," Thomas said not mollified a bit.
"Unless you can find someone among your own kind that can pick up a city bus and toss it I doubt that you can make a claim that you're stronger than we are. Some things are evident, Senator, even if you don't want them to be."
"You're a soldier," Thomas stated, "and have been at war for generations of time according to your own comments. Why should we ally ourselves to a group that can't seem to win a war?"
"Because you need us. Because you can't defeat them without us. We're a good team, your soldiers and ours. I'd also suggest that your country has some small knowledge of wars you couldn't win."
It was silent a moment then he continued. "If you hadn't been here then none of this would have happened."
"The Allspark landed here and so did Megatron. If we hadn't arrived here to find the Allspark, something you had no understanding about even though you had it for about eighty years would have at some point gotten free. You would've made a mistake and Megatron would've found the Allspark in the room next door to where he'd been trapped for decades. With the Allspark he would've laid waste to your world and you would've been helpless to stop him."
"This Allspark," Thomas began changing the subject. "Tell us about it. What's its purpose? Is it an idol? Is it your god? Do you even have a god?"
Ratchet considered his remarks. "We don't discuss religion outside of our species," he began as he considered what he should say about the Allspark considering its true purpose couldn't be known by the humans. "The Allspark was an icon, a symbol of our people that conferred great honor, prestige and power. Megatron tried to take It and use It for his own purposes committing a terrible sacrilege. Our Prime jettisoned It and It was lost to us forever it seemed until the trail led to this planet. We cannot discuss It further than that. Suffice it to say the Decepticons would have killed every man, woman and child on this planet to get It back."
"And the Autobots?" he asked. "What would you have done?"
"You infer that we're alike, the Decepticons and the Autobots. The Allspark was protected by the Prime and It was part of his prestige. To save It, our world and the greater universe from Megatron taking It and assuming Its power Prime jettisoned It into space at a very great cost to our people and our world. It hurt us almost mortally to lose It. We came to find it and rescue It for our people and our planet, Cybertron. We wouldn't destroy or harm to get It back. It's not the Autobot way. Ask a Decepticon. They'll tell you the same thing. They consider us soft because we don't kill to get what we need or want."
"Is that so," Thomas asked, his sarcasm apparent.
"Yes, it is so," Ratchet replied evenly. "Unless you didn't read the reports about the Decepticon attacks in Egypt."
Thomas glared at him and then went to the next item on his list. "Tell me how you reproduce," he said sitting back in his chair. "Tell us how that little one … that sparkling came about."
Ratchet could feel even Prowl bristle beside him.