Chap 3

Chick

Over the next few days, G.H.O.S.T. is a hive of activity.

Various world governments had agreed to help finance the voyage to Cybertron, including offering materials and supplies for the journey. The key component, the Space Bridge, was still incomplete, but the schematics were sound and they had two Cybertronian engineers to help build it. Both Ratchet and Wheeljack had their work cut out for them, but they were eager to make their long awaited journey home. The plans to build a new space bridge had already been in development long before the discovery of the Emberstone, but they were reluctant to utilise materials that could be better used elsewhere rather than returning to their dead planet. Furthermore, they had been worried about the potential human involvement as giving earthlings the technology of interstellar travel came with its own slew of worries.

Optimus instead made good use of his human allies, cashing in on favours owed to him by various human governments to garner more support and supplies. Metal, as he found, was easy to come by; builders were much more in demand.

The construction of the Ark II consisted of mostly human workforce. With the additional assistance provided by allied nations, the spacecraft was already nearing its final stages of completion. Many Autobots had travelled far in order to help in the construction and participate in the upcoming voyage, with Optimus' previous team at the forefront of the excitement.

Arcee and Elita-1 had taken command of the ship's construction, and managed their team with efficiency and vigour. They inspired them to put their all into the project, as this was a historic voyage; not just for Cybertronian kind, but for humans as well. How many on Earth could boast that they built a ship that would travel farther than any man-made spacecraft?

Bumblebee's participation was more subtle. He mostly kept to the shadows, taking inventory of the more crucial tools and equipment, ensuring that vital points of the voyage's purpose were kept private. Those included methodically accounting for every cube of Energon, every historic (and potentially dangerous) artefact, and any crucial datapads containing information that wasn't safe for human eyes. This worked in his favour as he did not want the truth of his survival to be made public yet; there was still much more he could accomplish underground.

Megatron, although positive about the team's voyage, had decided not to join them. Ratchet recalled Optimus mentioning the deep guilt Megatron felt for his part in Cybertron's destruction and couldn't bear to step on the planet's surface until he knew life could be supported there again. Optimus understood what it was like to be such an integral part of the war, and agreed to leave Megatron in charge on Earth in his stead.

Optimus couldn't believe that plans were progressing so smoothly. He was used to having to resort to plan B or C or D before things could proceed with this level of efficiency. Every member of his team hoped against hope that this voyage would be the last they'd ever need to make, that Cybertron's resurrection was finally in the cards. The hope of his species rested on the success of Ratchet's hypothesis: that placing the Emberstone in the Well of the Allsparks would restore the cycle and allow new life to be born on Cybertron. Their backup plan, although no one liked it less than Optimus (only he and Ratchet knew, anyway) was to use humans to help repopulate their species. They may not all be amenable, but over time he hoped that by giving humans a chance and showing the positive aspects of the transformation, they would agree to the proposal.

In any case, before any decisions could be made or hypotheses could be confirmed, they needed to finish the Space Bridge and get off this planet. And with things advancing at the speed they were progressing, they would be ready to leave before long.

By throwing himself into the project, Optimus had expertly made himself too busy to think about the heavier implications of his decision. Back to back meetings, conferences and news stories erupted with the first mention of the voyage, and all this made checking up on the little Seeker harder and harder. In Optimus' mind, it was better for the mission to keep the sparkling at an arm's length until departure. This allowed for more discreet methods of transportation for the little one, as well as keeping their existence a secret except for those few that could be trusted.

This didn't stop Optimus from making small excuses to venture closer to the shipping hangar and feeling the EM field of the sparkling through the doors. It was uncanny, the resemblance between the human-turned-Cybertronian and what he remembered of sparklings before the war.

By venturing close to the entrance, but not close enough to enter, Optimus stood there and let the EM field wash over him and he fought the instinct to send his own field out to comfort the little one. The Seekerling's field was emitting a slow, unbothered hum; they weren't hungry or excited, and they were undamaged but probably tired. His instincts urged him to open the hangar doors and hold the little one, keeping them close and protected using his heavier frame. He flexed his servos wiping away the ghostly feeling of the tiny body.

Ratchet had told him once, in confidence before the war, that sparklings were fine on their own. It was usually the parent's instinct to protect and coddle, not the need of the sparkling. Sure they had a more delicate plating, but it was ingrained in every core processor not to harm a sparkling. Thus the mere concept of it was alien, and Sires and Carriers alike preferred to indulge their urges by giving the sparklings as much attention as they allowed.

So, Optimus took this advice to spark, and knew that the sparkling would be fine alone for a while. They might grow bored, yes, but until they were offworld the secrecy of their plan was more important than anything.

Even now, with the small being on the other side of the door, Optimus couldn't help himself. His scanners showed the basic shape of the Seekerling curled up on the cot he had prepared for them. Optimus knew he could supply better once they didn't have to worry about the humans discovering their little passenger, so they would have to make do with the meagre materials for the moment. (It wasn't exactly discreet to prepare full berth furniture and be incognito.) Arcee had jumped at the opportunity to help supply for the sparkling, but even her stealth skills were considered too risky before their departure. The sparkling would be fine until they departed, and then all of Team Prime would gleefully provide for the little one.

Watching the Seekerling rise from the cot and wander around the room, no doubt exploring, Optimus couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of this promising new Aerialbot that was dropped in his lap. He soured only for a moment, thinking of all the Aerialbots that had been lost in the long war, but he brightened when he considered how happy they'd be knowing the first of their reborn kind would be one of them. He hoped their sparks, as well as all the sparks snuffed out during the fighting, returned to the Well of Allsparks safely and could be reformed once the Emberstone was returned to Cybertron.

Air support was something that was crucial during war-time, and Optimus couldn't turn off that part of his processor that prioritised battle plans. Even though there were rarely any fights to be fought during this time, he found it difficult to stop his code from getting caught up in these new details.

The Seekerling huffed disgruntledly from behind the door, Optimus' audials picking up the small noise. He smiled a bit, his post-war persona becoming more easy to adopt in the presence of the sparkling. Optimus had tried to make himself more 'friendly' to humans in the recent cycles, finding it troublesome but necessary. The humans were great allies with their numbers and supplies, but as a whole it was difficult to make himself more approachable when all he'd done in the past four millenia was fight.

Humans didn't have an EM field, but that didn't stop Optimus from using his to try and support his discussions with his sincerity thrumming though. The other bots could clearly feel his desperation in some meetings, and for a mech as old as him, it was incredibly hard to turn off this natural part of their language. Most Cybertronians had grown used to disabling it when talking to humans, but Optimus and Ratchet were too set in their ways to manually disable the function every time.

Upon meeting the sparkling for the first time, Optimus had used his EM field to try and calm the little one. This, of course knowing now what he didn't know then, only served in making the Seekerling more anxious because of their past human form. EM fields, as well as all other Cybertronian facets, were entirely new to them. These features and quirks of their species would have to be introduced later when there was more time. Optimus looked forward to that time eagerly, when he could hold the sparkling and teach them about their legacy and culture.

With one last glance at the door before returning to his influx of duties before departure, Optimus left the radius of the sparkling's field and made his way through the hallways of G.H.O.S.T. back to the central command area.

In this boom of excitement hidden that was from you behind the hangar doors, you were left by yourself. The shipping container that doubled as your room was on the small side, and you had long since read through the brochures and comics left to you by Optimus and Ratchet. They answered your questions over comms eagerly enough, but you always got the sense they were busier with something more important and that you might be bothering them, so you tried to keep mostly to yourself.

The computer on your desk was an absolute bust. There was a G.H.O.S.T. server that was inaccessible except by password, and the browser could only open the most rudimentary of sites. (Thesaurus dot com? Pretty much the only one that worked consistently.) None of the usual social media sites were available, and even if you had someone to contact, email and any messaging services were disabled.

With some luck you found a few sites with some games you could actually play using a paper and pen (looking at you, sudoku), but the anxious boredom seemed to grow with each passing, lonely hour.

So, the radio it was. A few days rolled by in absolute boredom, with the only change being the lofi tunes they played in the morning, to the hits of the midday, and a few good rock stations that played some of your favourites come the evening.

The first morning you woke up in the storage hangar, you'd hoped you'd feel a lot better than you did. But to be honest, the cot they supplied you with was hard as a rock and the sheet was so lightweight that it didn't feel like anything. Sure it was better than your brief nap in the back of the military car, but it was hard to get used to all of your new parts that were getting in your way. Sleeping with wings? Easier said than done.

Exploring this new hangar, it was much easier to get lost. This place was huge. Your room was probably the first storage container in a line of ten, and they went back such a distance that the motion sensors on the lights didn't even register that far. The containers were tall, easily three times your meagre height, and were wide enough that if there were two of you, you could spread your arms to their full span and have just enough room to not touch. Not huge, but it was enough for you.

The containers were spaced in even rows of ten and it would be easy to keep track of your surroundings if you stayed in a straight line. With the hangar door being your guide, you took a deep breath that you weren't sure you needed, and stepped out of your room.

The lights in the main room clicked on, and your optics adjusted for a moment before you can take a good look at your surroundings. When Optimus and Ratchet brought you to your new space, you half expected them to come back the same day to give you an update, but you had gone to rest before they came back. As it stood, you hadn't seen them since they left. Since there wasn't a lot else for you to do in this room you had noticed that there were a few glowing things you could see in the distance and with your curiosity piqued, you went forward to check it out.

From a distance the glowy things seemed to be spaced out like organised stars. They glowed in a light blue colour, and they were spaced evenly. The closer you got to them, you realised they were square shaped rather than circular as you suspected. Once they were in full view, you found they were filled with a strange glowing liquid. The colour was different from the glowing water you remembered waking up in (a traumatising memory you don't want to revisit any time soon) and the cubes were sealed tight. There were quite a few of them organised but also littered about the room, clustered near some open empty storage containers. This must be some sort of important cargo? You weren't sure.

Picking up one of the cubes, you tried to see if you could get it open. There wasn't a seal or a hinge you could find, and without smelling it you had little hope of guessing what it might be. (Maybe it's some sort of special alien gasoline?) The cube was heavier than you thought it would be. Resting on your palms, you used both of your servos to lift it and you raised it to your optics to get a closer look. The liquid wasn't entirely opaque, it had more of a translucent quality. The container itself seemed to be made of glass, and its material definitely added to the overall weight. Arms shaking, you lowered it to the floor and sat down with it.

It was kind of mesmerising to look at this weird glowing liquid. You liked how it sloshed around, refracting light off of the container walls, and its cube-like structure made for easy stackability. With a sudden childish idea, you decided it might be fun to build a fort out of this glowing material.

Task at hand, you began hefting the cubes and making an exterior foundation. Doing this in the middle of the container corridor in view of the door made this a bit exciting considering you might get in trouble, but at this point you would take any attention over no attention at all. The fort wouldn't be very big, considering you didn't want to haul any cubes too far away, so you were limited to the ones you had in this area. Which granted, was a lot, so you focused on your structure and made adjustments as you went.

You had no idea how to make an igloo shape, so you settled for walls as high as you could reach. You didn't break any of the cubes, but you did drop a few. Luckily they weren't cracked and you carried on with your task. Making a small entrance big enough for you and your newly acquired wings, you shifted some cubes to be closer for better structure. An even better idea forming, you ran back to your cot and ran back to your fort with your blanket from your cot. Stretching your blanket over the top and securing it with the weight of the cubes, you made a roof! Stepping inside, you marvelled at your finished creation.

The inside had a cool blue glow surrounding all sides. Its cosy dimensions meant you had to crawl to get inside, but when in there you couldn't stop staring. Small bubbles had appeared in the liquid as you sloshed them around making sure everything was stable, and the glow reflected off of them giving an ethereal look to your fort. You did your best not to feel proud, this was probably the best fort ever made. Laying on your back, careful not to lie on your wings, you took a moment and revelled at this sanctuary you created for yourself.

A sudden chill ran through your body. Forts are normally sweltering with their lack of airflow, but you weirdly felt cold. It made sense though, you were in an unheated storage unit surrounded by glass cubes filled with an unknown liquid; not exactly the most insulated surroundings.

Getting to your knees and scooching out of the fort, you gave it one last look (for now) and went back to your room. All the heavy lifting was making you feel achy, and you wanted to lie down. Even if the cot wasn't the greatest, it was still better than the concrete floor. You resigned yourself to try and get some rest.

Sleep weirdly came easier to you than ever; the more you lay on your cot and stared at the lights on the container ceiling, the more a dull ache pounded in your head and made you more inclined to close your eyes. This, of course, tied with the need to eat much less often (ever? Do you even need to eat at all?) made sleeping the best way to pass the time. Optimus and Ratchet had mentioned that you'd need fuel eventually, but the need hadn't arisen yet.

On the second morning during this tedious period, you heard the door open to your storage hangar and a new robot you've never seen before walked in. He was yellow with two little horn looking things coming out of his head, and instead of aiming right for you like you expected, he opened each container and wrote something down on a bright looking tablet. He even looked at your fort you made the day before, his expression hidden from you because of his posture. When he did turn around, his face plate was a carefully schooled mask of professionalism, and he didn't say a word during his whole cataloguing didn't register that he knew you were there at all.

After a while he meandered closer and closer to your container, and you were standing by the entrance trying to decide if you should introduce yourself when he flipped the lever and lifted your ceiling off rather unceremoniously.

This resulted in a very startled giant yellow robot and a completely still small robot (you). He jumped back a pace and a small noise of surprise left his mouth. A few moments of intense staring later, realisation seemed to bloom on his face. Before acknowledging you verbally, he put his hand (servo, remember it's called a servo) next to his helm and you presumed that he spoke to Optimus or Ratchet. He then lowered his servo, gave you an awkward little wave and introduced himself.

"Oh, sorry about that. My designation is Bumblebee. Optimus mentioned that you were back here."

He smiled a little, but didn't seem like he was going to stick around and chat for long. He carefully lowered the roof to your room back on, latching it in place, and you took this as a sign to step out into the outside hangar.

You craned your neck to look up at him, as you did with the other giant robots. He shuffled a little to give you more space, and fiddled with his data pad.

"I'm just back here itemising all the supplies we have." His typing was slower than Ratchet's, you noted. "I won't bother you too much, but I'll be in and out of here as quietly as I can."

You opened your mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything better to say other than 'I'm bored, keep me company', so you decided against it. You didn't even know him, anyway. He had no obligation to stay and spend time with you, and he was obviously busy.

His optics shifted from the data pad to you awkwardly as you continued to stare up at him without speaking. An uneasy silence fills the space between you, and he makes a very fake sounding cough noise as if to lighten the mood.

He gives a shy smile and points at you. "Nice wings, by the way." You move your helm to the side to glance at your wings attached to your back and fight a scowl. You try not to think of Ratchet and his promise to help you, and how you haven't seen nor heard anything from him in days. The big bot was definitely preoccupied, but your predicament definitely made you feel more ignored than anything.

As Bumblebee focused on his task, and you noted how although he wasn't moving, the temperature in the hangar seemed to go up a bit at his proximity. He didn't feel warm per se, but having another person in the room after days of empty silence felt nice. It's not like you're a huge fan of crowds or anything, but anyone your age being left alone for this long didn't feel good. Maybe Cybertronians were different? You didn't exactly know a lot about their culture as a whole.

Plucking up some courage, if only to quell your boredom, you spoke to the big yellow bot. "H-hey, where did you guys get these comics from?" You pointed towards the entrance of your room, hoping he'd get the gist. "There were some comics left on the desk. But they seemed way too small to be for you guys. Where'd you get them?"

He looked up from his data pad and stopped typing abruptly, looking at you quizzically. He mouthed the word comics and then his eyes lit up. "Oh! Robby and Mo must've left their comics here by accident during the move. I bet they wondered what happened to them."

You looked up at him, confused. "Who're Robby and Mo?"

Bumblebee smiled slightly and responded. "Robby and Mo Malto. They're the ones that onlined the original Terrans; Twitch and Thrash. We moved them off-grid for their privacy and safety a while ago. They were a bit taller than you, though." He looked at you thoughtfully.

You perked up. "You met the other Terrans?"

"Yeah, I helped train them!. It took some getting used to, but we finally found a way that worked for all of us." You got the sense he was proud of this.

"What are they like? Are they like me?" This may be your only chance to get some much-needed information!

He pondered for a bit before replying. "Hmm, they're definitely bigger than you. But they're connected to their human siblings, Robby and Mo. The kids have the same sleeve that you do, it's kinda weird that it's on you instead." He squinted his optics at you, then shook his head.

"Not that there's anything weird about you. Everybody's different, right?" He laughed, sounding fake. You grimaced at the display.

"Where are they now?" You asked. If you could get in contact with them, you definitely have a few questions you'd like to ask them.

Bumblebee closed his optics and his expression turned melancholy. "That information is strictly confidential, I'm afraid. Very few bots know where the Maltos are for their safety. They wanted to live a more private life, and we do our best to ensure that that privacy is upheld. I doubt even Optimus would give you their information." You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face.

Bumblebee shuffled his feet and made a move to signal that looked to you like he had more important things to do. His right ped took a step back and he turned his head towards the hangar door.

You held your servo up to get his attention.

"W-wait! Uh, can I come with you? I haven't been out of this hangar in days and I-" you stop your sentence when you see Bumblebee look back at you and sadly shake his head.

"Sorry little Seeker, big bot's orders. You gotta stay here where you're safe. I can't take you out of this room and risk your safety." His optics linger on the doorframe, but after a moment they brighten and look back to you. "But if you like I can bring some other bots here to introduce you to? I'm sure they'd love to meet you." His grin is warm and big, but it doesn't reassure you.

You stare at the ground, disappointment evident, and mumble, "sure, ok." When you look back up, he's halfway through the door.

"Great talk, I'll stop by later, ok? Bye!" And with the clunk of the door closing, he's gone.

Alone again.

Trying and failing to reign in your disappointment, you kicked your ped against a nearby container. It hurt, and the motion made a loud clanging sound of metal on metal, but it made you feel better. After grasping your ped and breathing heavily through the self-imposed pain, you waited until you were sure he was far enough away and released a pent up, aggravated yell. It echoed off the metal and concrete surroundings and reverberated through your metal shell. It was so so annoying being treated like a kid who didn't know what was going on. Maybe if someone would just sit and talk with you for a bit, you could figure something out instead of just sitting here building forts!

A growl left your intake and you clenched your firsts in aggravation. You didn't punch anything, but that didn't mean you didn't want to.

Through your anger you vaguely heard a sound like shifting metal, and then a small noise like a penny falling to the ground caught your full attention. Looking down, a small red beeping disk lay by your ped. As you looked at it, the beeping quickened and the teeniest of explosions erupted at your feet. It was like a tiny cap gun was fired on the floor.

Did that come from you? You unclenched your hands, anger forgotten, and examined your arms. Small panels that you hadn't noticed before were raised on your forearms. Beneath the raised panel was a small dark cylindrical object where you presume the tiny explosive had come from. You had tiny guns?

The explosion itself was tiny; it wouldn't even make a dent on anything. And there was barely even a smudge on the ground where it had detonated. Still, it was something new, and it was pretty cool.

Motivated, you tried to get it to happen again. Squeezing your servos tightly, you raised your arms and aimed at the exterior wall of your storage container. After a few groans of effort, nothing happened and you had a new layer of disappointment wash over you.

Trudging back to your cot, disappointed and still sort of angry, you try to shake the feeling of coldness that coats your body. You felt a little better when Bumblebee was here, but you weren't sure if it was based on the fact he was the first new thing that happened in a while, or if he physically made the room warmer by being in it. His personality seemed younger than the other Cybertronians that you'd met, but he had that same awkwardness that made him hard to talk to. The way all the bots you met were constantly working didn't help much either.

Either way, he was gone now, but he did promise to come back later. Maybe even with some new people? You weren't sure how you felt about that. You didn't fully trust the ones you had met, but you weren't given much of a choice.

Maybe when he returns you could ask to turn up the heat in this room a bit. The longer you spent alone, the colder you seemed to feel. Even that humming frequency that lingered in your processor was harder to ignore when you felt that chill. There hadn't been a chance to mention it to Ratchet because his comm was always busy. It felt like something you should mention to a doctor, so you didn't bother Optimus by telling him. Now with the third robot having gone without staying very long, you got the impression that mentioning it wasn't that important.

You had only noticed the chill a couple of hours after Optimus and Ratchet had left a few days ago. It started as only mildly annoying at first, you figured it had something to do with having metal instead of skin, and you easily found ways to distract yourself from it by rereading the comics or doing some sudoku puzzles. But after a while the cold feeling amped up in intensity and would crash down on you in waves.

It wasn't even a cold feeling, really. More like a shiver without the feel of cold. Similar to how the water in the cave didn't feel wet. You're not sure how your nerves are attached to the metal of your new body, but it's definitely different from the feeling of skin.

Pulling the blanket over your head, it was time for your favourite pastime; sleeping. The shivers came in waves, and as consciousness pulled you under you did your best to quell them.

Nova Storm's untimely death had come as no surprise for the Command Trine.

Soaring well above where human pilots normally patrol, three brightly coloured jets soared through the sky like gods looking down upon mortals. They all knew it was coming.

Solitary Seekers couldn't exist. And while she had tried making do by trying to form a pair bond with Skywarp, ultimately it didn't work and it made her sloppy.

Starscream couldn't help but scoff at the clumsiness she had displayed, disgust leaking out of his frequency. She had known that Skywarp was part of a trine, but had convinced herself in her desperation to attempt to bond to save her sanity. Desperate yes, but foolish. The Command Trine's bond was strong, as it has remained since before the war. He wouldn't break it for such reckless instability.

Nova Storm's death had been an accident. She'd been flying clumsily after Skywarp had rejected her pair bond, and with little other options on the planet she had attempted to join the Autobots and try to quell her Seeker sickness using Grounders. A desperate move yes, but Starscream understood how dire her situation seemed from a Seeker's perspective.

Skywarp would shrug if he had pauldrons in this form. He was doing his duty to help a great cause, but it didn't work out. Nova Storm was a great gal, but she wasn't right for their trine.

Starscream shivered in disgust at the concept. But for her to try to resort to a Grounder? The pride of Vosians really had fallen.

Sure, the concept as a whole seemed functional, but natural Grounders didn't possess the behavioural matrix that made Seekers such skilled group fliers. Though they were the same species, their cultures were decidedly different and that came with its own set of peculiarities. The innate ability to manoeuvre around obstacles and other fliers without worry of crashing made that instinct indispensable. Without that matrix, pair bonds and trines couldn't be formed. Thus the ability to fly confidently went hand in hand with the safety of group habitation.

These bonds weren't at all romantic. The bonds were necessary components that fit a bigger puzzle. Some bonds were between siblings, others parents, others conjunx's. All were solely between Seekers, and all were complex and valuable. Some liked to equate the bonds to human concepts like marriage or soulmates, but they were decidedly their own thing. Bonds happened between Seekers to account for safety in flying; beings who lived their lives tied to the ground could never understand.

From the moment a Seeker is online, they are constantly with their siblings, Sire, and Carrier. These exist as a primary bond; those between family members. Sometimes siblings leave to bond with other Seekers from different nests, but the primary family bonds always remains deeply embedded within the code.

The previous Second in command of the Decepticons had not forgotten how coveted his bond was in the days before the war. Seekers of all builds had lined up for a chance to fly with him, but in the end none could predict his movements like his brothers. Their prowess in the skies had Grounders weeping at their display. Their bond flight had Vos talking about it an entire vorn afterwards.

Starscream had to laugh. Skywarp had even humoured Nova Storm by changing his frame type to fit hers more, but when their flying didn't sync up like Nova Storm had hoped, Skywarp respectfully bowed out. If there was no place for her as Skywarp's pair, then there was no place for her within the trine.

Trines could happily accept more members, resulting in more than one bonding ceremony, but not if the pairing was incompatible with the entire group. It wasn't uncommon for one member to test waters with a potential trine mate, but very rarely did a member leave their trine for another Seeker. This occurred because all members had to be synchronised with each other otherwise there was danger in flight manoeuvres. Bonds had to be solid, especially with a Seeker's lighter frame type and tactical position in battle.

Even before the war, a Seeker flying alone around Vos was nearly unheard of. Pairs and Trines stayed together in the air, it was a fact of life. Sure they could exist separately, but they always preferred to fly together.

Starscream had flown alone for a good portion of the war, but his trinemates were always present within his bond. Without it, he wouldn't have lived this long.

Nova Storm's last ditch effort had ended in failure after the loss of her conjunx Slipstream. Starscream had to give her credit where it was due, she lasted longer than he expected flying solo. But it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. Pairs were always more delicate since they only consisted of two members, but Seeker pairs and trines came in clutch for many battles during the war, resulting in their drastic decline.

Skywarp had changed his frametype back to his old shell the moment the decision was made to not include Nova Storm in their trine. Fluidity fit his personality, and while he presented primarily as a mech, he didn't mind how he looked as femme either. His preening through their bond was almost as unbearable as Starscream's, but the rest of the trine breathed a sigh of relief when he decided to change back. One vain Seeker in the trine was enough, Thundercracker couldn't handle two.

Starscream wasn't sure how many Seekers were left, only that his trine was the only one still remaining on Earth. With the Decepticons disbanded and with Megatron joining the Autobots, Starscream had poured over every idea he could think of to gain the upper hand and ensure security for his trinemates. He may not care about a lot of things other than himself, but the wellbeing of his trine he held in the utmost importance. Maybe there were others out there in the galaxy, but so long as he and his trine were together and whole, he didn't have time to spare a thought about them.

Currently, his mission was to commandeer the vessel that was set to depart for Cybetron. With Nova Storm out of the picture, that left the Autobot's forces entirely without air support. With their combined skills and abilities, Starscream was slowly coming up with a plan that would be executed shortly. So long as the disrespectful human pilots didn't see them coming, the mission would be a success.

The transmission was received by all three of the Command Seekers, and immediately they started forming their plan of attack.

Flying high over the airspace above Witwicky Arizona, Starscream took in the lay of the land beneath him. G.H.O.S.T. 's headquarters weren't visible from aboveground, but the influx of equipment and humans going to and from a supposed abandoned military base was more than a little suspicious. When did the Autobots get so sloppy? If the transmission was to be believed, then the ship would depart from this location via Space Bridge on route back to Cybertron. It would be of the foremost importance to take control of the vessel before its passage into open space.

Confident in his team and with time growing short, Starscream scanned the area beneath him and took note of any notable details that may aid in his strategy. Pleased, he filed the information, sending updates to his trinemates, and flew to regroup with them. Phase One was already in motion.

Ratchet could feel the aches in his joints today more than any other day he'd experienced in recent cycles. Having to deal with Wheeljack on a regular basis was exhausting enough, but having him co-lead a project as vital as this one? Ratchet was ready to tear out his audials.

The Space Bridge was well underway in terms of construction. The schematics were always available; it was the matter of importance that had brought the project online so suddenly.

Wheeljack was an innovative inventor; his creations had turned the tides of many battles during the war, but they had also been the cause of much strife within the ranks as well. His methods were creative, dangerous, and usually explosive. And the worst part, in Ratchet's opinion, was that he never stopped talking while he was working.

For Ratchet, who was used to being the only doctor in his medical bay, the chattiest bots usually let him work in peace and quiet. Given his close camaraderie with their leader, not many were willing to risk getting on the doctor's bad side. WIth Wheeljack constantly straining his audials with chittering feedback every chance he got, Ratchet was near the end of his patience.

Finding an excuse to leave was easy enough, but Ratchet knew the importance of a swift completion of the Space Bridge (especially if they wanted to give it a few test runs before the actual voyage) and he stayed as long as he could bear working on his various tasks until he could stand it no longer.

So being the only one with medical experience, he took a moment to check up on his other vital task; the sparkling.

Ratchet tried to fight the burgeoning warmth that seeped into his spark chamber. He tried to treat the sparkling with professional indifference, but it was a losing battle. When the Terrans were formed, he had rushed to the scene as quickly as he was able. Because of his distance, he ended up being one of the later bots to meet the Terrans and their human partners, and the feelings he felt with them was drastically different from how he felt with the new sparkling. The contrasting feelings were startling; everything about this little one reminded him of his days back on Cybertron. How they stood, how they moved, their curiosity, and their open and honest frequency changes, Ratchet missed that more than anything.

His losing battle with his own code was a far cry from how quickly Optimus had buckled under sparkling's desperate frequency. Initially, Ratchet was surprised at how fast Optimus' guardian controls had kicked in, but then he remembered that not every Cybertronian had the experience with sparklings that he did.

Ratchet wanted just as badly to scoop up the little one and make sure that they had nothing to fear; the notes of discomfort and anxiety constantly thrumming out through their EM field. But Ratchet also knew that this sparkling was different from the ones he had taken care of on Cybertron. Not only because they were a Seeker (it was rare for young Seekers to leave Vos, and he was stationed in the Capitol), but because they were once human. Ratchet could imagine that the anxiety the young one felt had much to do with their sudden transformation, and it made Ratchet feel awkward and stiff. So, detached professionalism it was. And once the little one grew more comfortable with their new form, Ratchet might just give in to one of his baser instincts.

Making his way through the halls of G.H.O.S.T., he tread towards the storage container storage unit at the far end of the facility and waited for the sensor to recognize his authorization code. The hangar doors fell open and he looked around for his small charge.

The first thing he noticed was a curious stack of Energon cubes towards the back end of the room. They were arranged in a semi-circular shape just taller than the sparkling. Smiling inwardly, he supposed that the sparkling must've gotten bored while waiting and made some sort of structure.

Stepping into the room quietly, he scanned his surroundings looking for the unique energy signature of the Emberstone; a quick way to find any Earth-born Cybertronian. Finding the reading exactly where he expected it, Ratchet peered into the small opening of the sparkling's temporary chamber. There the sparkling lay sleeping, their blanket tucked tightly around their form, optics closed and scrunched. A fitful sleep. He noticed small shivers wracking their small body, and guessed they were having a nightmare. The EM field surrounding the little one was anxious even in dreams. Ratchet decided the best way to ease their fears and his own anxieties was to wake the little one up and give them some much needed attention.

"Little one, it's time to wake up."

Panicked optics opened, and then relaxed slightly. Looking up from their cot, the small Seeker looked through the doorway and met Ratchet's gaze. Pulling the blanket off their body, they left the cot and stepped out the storage container.

"Did you sleep well?" Ratchet asked, knowing full well the answer.

The sparkling shook their helm. " 's cold in here."

Ratchet frowned. The sparkling was well above the age of thermoregulation, but he supposed that there had to be more than one difference between Emberstone-born Cybertronians and Cybertron born ones. "That can be easily remedied." He replied, and made a note to fetch more blankets for the small being.

The sparkling looked up cheerlessly. "Thanks," they mumbled, rubbing their arms in a human gesture to try and get warm.

The doctor held out his servos tentatively, before he even knew what he was doing. "If you like," he started, placing his servos palm up on the ground, "I can warm up my servos to an optimal temperature for you." They glowed slightly indicating the warmth had already begun heating up.

The sparkling seemed hesitant to step forward, but reached out a servo to touch anyways. When the small digits touched his plating, Ratchet had to fight the urge to croon. So small, so delicate, it's amazing they were ever that small. His coding blared at him to pick up the sparkling and spoil them, erasing all the anxieties from their field. But Ratchet kept himself professional and didn't move an inch.

Taking a small seat on Ratchet's servo, the sparkling relaxed a touch into his hold. Cupping the small creature gently, he stood up and fought a chuckle when they lurched a bit at the sudden movement and grasped his thumb.

"How have you been feeling?" Ratchet checked his logs, he realised it had been a few cycles since the Sparkling had been placed here. Time seemed to fly by while he was working on the Space Bridge, he hadn't noticed the time passing. No wonder they were so anxious. "Are you hungry?"

The small form on his servo shook their head, but looked at him quizzically. "What do I eat when I'm like this?" Their grip on his thumb tightened slightly.

"Well," Ratchet began, "We as Cybertronians consume Energon, which I can see you've already familiarised yourself with." He gestured to the structure the sparkling had created out of Energon cubes. "We don't need to refuel that often, but if you're anything like the Terrans before you, you'll need to refuel even less." The sparkling continued frowning so Ratchet continued. " The Terrans refuelled using liquid that had been charged by the Emberstone. Any liquid that touches the Emberstone can become charged, and no matter the amount it will always retain its potency." This was the biggest turning point in his hypothesis that Cybertron could be restored; if the Emberstone was lowered in the Well of the Allsparks then theoretically it could charge the surrounding water and make it a building point for new life to be created. The Well would spread out and make contact with other bodies of water across Cybertron and hopefully life could be restored. They had no way of testing the distance at which the energy could be transferred, but it seems that even a small amount of Emberstone charged liquid could activate uncharged liquid without the need of the stone itself.

Optimus Prime himself had ordered a surplus of the liquid to be made for their Terran friends, believing it was the best way to keep the Terrans safe without the acquisition of the Emberstone. Now, with the sparkling, the Emberstone water could be used to sustain different life.

The sparkling didn't answer, but Ratchet could see that they were concentrating on the information that was given. The CMO was under strict orders not to give too much information to the Seekerling in case it led to some difficult questions, but this one seemed safe enough, so Ratchet was confident this information wasn't out of line.

He went on a bit longer about how Energon differed from Emberstone water, the dull expression on the sparkling's faceplate never leaving. Ratchet's preliminary scan hadn't shown any abnormalities, but being in the room with the sparkling was a different matter.

Underneath the anxious frequency in the Seekerling's EM field was a frequency imbalance that Ratchet didn't recognize. It seemed to be tied to the thermoregulation system, but it criss-crossed all over the fuel lines inside them. He knew something was wrong, but it wasn't causing any major damage beside the chilled feeling. And to be fair, it was colder in this section of the base due to its less populated status. The thing that worried him was that he didn't know what it was. As a (former) sparkling doctor he prided himself in knowing every fix to every small problem a sparkling could have. This new creation was clearly more different than he thought, and this would mean further study. Making another mental note to research frequency imbalances later, he focused his attention on fixing what he could, like their mood.

Interrupting his thorough explanation, the sparkling spoke up, "Did you find out anything about changing me back?"

Ratchet hummed, unsure how to answer the question. So he carefully worded his answer. "Not as of yet. But in a few days time I will be less busy."

The sparkling was obviously distressed by this response, but there was nothing Ratchet could do now to assuage their worries. In a few days they will have departed Earth and the voyage would be well underway. He did his best to soothe the little one's mood (and his own guilt) by changing the subject. "But when that time comes, would you like to take some time to learn to fly? I've been around long enough to have witnessed the Aerialbots when they were still around, and I'm sure there's something in my memory storage that could be of use to you."

They continued to frown, but their frequency changed slightly to signify their interest. "Who're the Aerialbots? More Seekers?"

"Yes, they served the Autobot cause at the beginning of the war. Silverbolt was their leader, appointed by Optimus." Ratchet chuckled a bit. "He was appointed leader due to his fear of heights."

The sparkling perked up. "But he flew? How could he fly if he was afraid?"

"Optimus hoped he'd get over his fear if he had more things to worry about. And he was right, Silverbolt turned out to be an excellent commander."

Kicking their legs, obviously interested, the sparkling continued talking, which made Ratchet glad. " 'm not scared of heights. I like them. Makes me feel big." Their eyes pointedly looked away, seemingly embarrassed. "Flying could be fun, I guess."

Ratchet smiled at the honest declaration. This was the first conversation they'd had where the sparkling had shared a bit about themself. He fought the urge to bring his servo up to his spark to cuddle the small being. "Once it's safe to get you out onto the flightdeck, we'll get started with your practising. There will be plenty of space for gliding and exercise, but for now you'll have to make do in this space." Ratchet looked around. "I hear that small creatures on Earth that fly try hopping first. To get a feel for your thrusters and your wing movements." He felt a small vibration from his servo.

The sparkling giggled slightly, the movement of their chassis tickling Ratchet's palm. "They're called birds, Ratchet. And I don't think they have thrusters."

Ratchet's spark soared at the jovial sound. He played along. "Is that so? I'll have to do more research then." The giggling continued and Ratchet never wanted it to end.

But he had important tasks to complete, and he had already lingered too long. With a careful motion, he lowered his servo and turned it to gently manoeuvre the sparkling to the floor. The loss of the small body's heat immediately leaving him colder.

"I must leave now, but I'll do my best to return more often to help you practise. And you'll have to teach me more about, birds you say they're called?" His voice questioned with mirth. The sparkling nodded. "And I'll mention to G.H.O.S.T. to raise the temperature of this room. You're right, it is lower than optimal temperature."

The sparkling looked up at him with a small smile. "Thank you, Ratchet." The anxiety was still there in their EM field, as well as the strange tone, but smile did much to improve Ratchet's worries. He promised himself to work quickly and come back as soon as he could. He'd talk about the Aerialbots more next time, as it seemed to interest the little one.

"I'll return as soon as I'm able." He nodded curtly, praying to Primus that the thudding of his spark didn't give his affection away. With every protocol blaring within him to turn back around and stay with the sparkling, he walked through the hangar door and left them alone again.