Chap 19
Augury
You make an effort to try to focus on what's going on around you rather than getting stuck in your head. An effort to be present in the now and shake yourself from the sour cloud that haunts your processor. It's time you actually figure out what it is exactly that the Autobots are doing, even if the clumps of machinery that are steadily appearing on the flight deck give you no clue what's currently being built.
There are two main groups among the Autobots; one that is focused on remaining aboard the ship, building some sort of contraption complete with a massive control board, and one that makes frequent trips off-ship and returns with supplies and coordinates, looking for some kind of Well.
You've heard bits and pieces of what's going on, but nothing concrete enough to understand what's going on. From your little window you see that the group in charge of building the machinery consists of Wheeljack and Ratchet, with some heavy lifting done by Arcee. It seems that Bumblebee fronts the away team, occasionally accompanied by Elita-1, venturing away to who knows where, leaving for longer and longer each time.
Whatever's happening, it's happening soon.
The Seekers have been keeping to themselves, at least where the Autobots are concerned. You were slightly worried they might be planning some sort of heist for the Emberstone on your behalf, but the more time passed the more you noticed they were doing anything but planning, instead focusing on you, spending even more time with you if it were at all possible.
Barricade is even let out of his cell a few times, mostly to help the deck team with additional heavy lifting. He looks fine, especially considering the last time you saw him, but the closest you've gotten to catching up is a small wave from the window and he's ushered away before you can interact further. You're pleased that he's up on his feet, despite your worry that Optimus might've gone against your wishes and harmed him without your knowledge. It seems the Prime ultimately listened to you, earning him the approximation of a gold star in your books. He'll have to work more to make it higher than the bar of lowest possible morality where he currently stands, but only time will tell if he makes the effort at all.
You're no closer to making your decision on which you'd rather stay a robot or return to Earth, but things keep stealing your attention before you're able to sit down and process your thoughts. At least, that's the excuse you keep telling yourself.
From your vantage point in the makeshift windowsill, you clutch your toy plane and watch the final pieces of the machinery click together satisfyingly; a few areas still in need of welding heralded by Ratchet's tools spitting sparks as he sutures the pieces together.
It looks like two separate entities; one big control board with buttons, switches, and panels, the other a wide semi-circular shape that juts into the ground, expansive enough that five Cybertronians could stand shoulder to shoulder and still have enough room to fit inside. The second part takes up a significant amount of space on the flight deck, though it is the part that looks more incomplete. Wheeljack's green plating is obscured by a particularly large piece of metal that makes up the secondary half of the semi-circle. You fight the urge to stick out your glossa at him.
Ratchet is so engrossed in his work you don't think he's noticed you here the past few cycles. Otherwise he would have turned and seen you with the plane he made, maybe even smiled in your direction. Between him and Optimus, he seems like the one who's honestly repentant, giving him an edge over the Autobot leader. Holding the toy feels like you've planned a little surprise, one that he'll hopefully like. But every cycle that passes with him working on the flight deck passes without him noticing, and it looks like they may be done soon. He may miss his chance unless you do something to get his attention.
Which, with Wheeljack there, you're less inclined to do. There are very few instances where he's out there alone when you're in the windowsill, and he throws himself into his work as much as you've taken to 'Bot watching. It's interesting at least, as a way to pass the time.
The window isn't large, kind of like the size of a basement window on Earth, but with just enough room that you can curl up and peer out while staying comfortable. The few times you've been outside in the last few cycles you've tried to spot your little hidey-hole, but unless you know exactly where to look it's oddly hard to find. You're partially unsurprised that Ratchet hasn't spotted you yet. That or he's just not acknowledging you.
Which allows you an inadvertent eavesdropping session when Optimus decides to emerge onto the flight deck.
"How are things proceeding, my old friend?" Optimus Prime's voice is low enough that you can hear it clearly despite his distance.
Ratchet grumbles in the distance, servos still welding one particularly heavy looking slab of metal to another. "A few more structural placements, and we'll be prepared to proceed with our Space Bridge test. Is Bumblebee in position?"
Optimus nods, helm craning ever so slightly. "He is standing by, close to the entrance of the Well. He will not proceed until we have confirmed the functionality of the Space Bridge."
"And the Emberstone?" Ratchet's voice is quiet, you can barely hear it.
A silver servo tips upwards and Optimus touches his chassis, where the Emberstone no doubt rests within his subspace. "Safe." He murmurs, impossibly deep. "It is almost time for it to fulfil its purpose, and the purpose of this mission." There's something in his tone that sounds ancient, weathered. Far older than a rock smoothed by decades of ocean spray. The tone is heavier than anything you've heard from him before.
Ratchet seems similarly affected, optics glued to Optimus' silver servo. "Whatever happens, Optimus, whether or not we succeed, I am thankful we tried." His voice seems wistful, and old. "If we see Cybertron restored in my lifetime, that's the greatest wish an old mech like me could ask for." He pauses, his heavy gaze unfocused, almost glassy. "That, and one other wish."
Optimus moves the same silver servo from his chassis to Ratchet's shoulder pauldron, causing the medic to briefly pause his stare and continue his welding. Optimus then says something lower than you can hear, eliciting a heavy breath from the red and white Autobot. When he finally raises his helm, Ratchet's expression is furrowed, sorrow visible even from your distance. His optics are impossibly blue.
Coughing, or maybe grumbling a little louder, Ratchet rises from his position and pats the mechanism he's been spending so much time building. "Well then, no time like the present." He hollers at Wheeljack, whom you'd forgotten was there as well, somewhere lurking. "Wheeljack, are we clear to proceed? How are things on your end?"
A dark grey servo shoots up from behind the mechanism in a thumbs up position. A moment later Wheeljack's helm becomes visible as he rises and makes his way towards his comrades. A dirty rag is present in his servos, presumably to wipe any residual grease or buff any scuffs.
"Just finished up the last of my calibrations. We're good to go on your order, Optimus."
Lifting a digit to his comm unit, you watch Optimus silently contact Bumblebee, presumably to test the machine. Whatever the machine does, you're going to find out soon.
"Bumblebee has relayed that he's prepared on his end. We are clear to proceed with the test."
Both engineers nod, Ratchet moving towards the control panel while Wheeljack follows close behind. Optimus stays where he is and faces the semi-circular contraption with an impossible to understand look in his optics.
The Seekers are in the room behind you, doing what you aren't certain. You're constantly aware of their presence lingering behind you some ways away, but you'd all been requested (read: ordered) to remain in your rooms while construction was underway. A inquisitive part of you wants to rush out right now considering they just announced construction was complete, but you're not that daring. Just a fanciful thought as you watch.
Ratchet presses a few buttons, his arms moving quickly amidst the control board. His back is to you, white and gleaming plates with strips of brilliant red. He's more serious outside of your presence, always with that nervous energy when you're around. He seems oddly in his element here, surrounded by machinery that can't wince or bleed. It's the act of creating rather than the act of repairing, and you idly wonder which one he prefers.
Optimus takes a few steps back, massive arms laying limply at his sides. His posture is calm yet coiled, anticipatory. His optics are trained to the machine.
A low hum begins in your audials, getting your attention first through the soles of your pedes before the sound reaches your audials. Some lights are beginning to blink on surrounding the machine, some illuminating the control board and some surrounding the foreign-looking part.
A screen appears above Ratchet's head, Energon green coloured. Letters you don't recognize flit across the screen quickly, too fast for you to read even if you could understand it. A few pictures flit by as well, followed by an incredibly long string of numbers. The numbers you recognize, for it was a similar string that you had put all your focus into remembering; they were coordinates.
The hum builds until a low whine accompanies it, a sure sign that it's working, whatever it is. And before you can think further, a familiar, sickening-looking green glow pulses in the middle of the semi-circle. It grows and swells in size with an alarming speed, the glow suddenly casting your faceplate in its eerie glow. The portal trembles for a few moments, then stabilises. A small marble of dread clinks in your tanks, you recognize this sight.
A Space Bridge, they called it. Not for creating more space,but a bridge between spaces. This is a smaller version of the one that brought you to space in the first place. The remembrance sends a zap of discomfort through your fuel lines, you decidedly don't like this thing.
From the corner of your vision, Optimus reaches a servo up to his comm unit and is silent for a few beats. Ratchet turns to face his leader, his servos still on the control panel. Wheeljack is somewhere nearer the mechanism, but you're not paying attention to him.
The portal is quieter than you remember the last one being, probably because you were in the middle of a massive freak-out when you passed through it the last time. The sound is near indescribable; electric while also sounding oddly wet. The swirling vortex shimmers with different shades of Energon green, pulsing with an eerie energy.
A few beats pass, and Ratchet moves to stand beside Optimus, Wheeljack following from a distance that you don't immediately register. Silence passes between them, all quiet except for the whirring noise of the Space Bridge. Then, a small sound, like a small rock hitting metal.
You spot something. There is a tiny rock on the flight deck. You're suddenly unsure if maybe you just hadn't noticed it before. But then another one appears, in motion, coming from the portal, passing through the portal. It skitters to a stop just before Optimus' pedes, bigger than the previous.
Then, Optimus speaks, his servo still connected to his comm. "Proceed." He says, optics glued forward.
A yellow arm passes through the portal, followed by the body of Bumblebee. The green light turns his paint into a vibrant lime colour, each step reducing the effect as he walks away from the portal from wherever he was previously. Optimus nods at Ratchet, who scurries back to the control panel, while Wheeljack clasps Bumblebee on the shoulder like an old friend.
"Well done, scout! That's gotta be a record for fastest recorded search for the Well of the Allsparks. High-grade is on me tonight!"
Bumblebee groans, though it sounds good-natured. "The Energon we have is rationed, it belongs to all of us, Wheeljack. Unless you've somehow found a refinery in your free time while you were tinkering with the Space Bridge, none of us are going to have high-grade for a good long while."
"You're barely old enough to drink it, youngspark!" Wheeljack laughs. Bumblebee looks indignant.
"Well done, Bumblebee. You have succeeded in your mission ahead of schedule. Your diligence should be commended." Prime's voice has a way of cutting through any conversation like a hot knife through butter. "With your efforts we can proceed with the next part of our core mission, once Ratchet completes calibrations based on your test travel."
"Yeah, not sure how I feel about being the test subject, but I trust Ratchet to make sure I don't explode when passing through." He adopts a conspiratorial pose, digits barely touching the edge of his intake. "A sentiment that I do not share with Wheeljack."
The green mech only laughs and claps Bumblebee on the backstrut, hard. The clanging noise makes it sounds like it hurts, and the yellow scout winces. Optimus looks on at the display impassively.
They discuss a bit more, with lowered volume, making it difficult for you to pick up everything they say. You catch a few words like proceeding fine and supplies and resources allocation, but it's difficult to piece together everything they're saying. Their muted conversation is interrupted by Ratchet who walks back to the Autobot trio.
As he takes a few steps away from the portal, it releases that low hum again before slowly shrinking in size. It gets smaller and smaller without losing any of its vibrancy, until it's the size of a beach ball. Once it reaches that size, it makes a zzziiip sound and disappears, taking the ethereal green glow with it. The flight deck is once again cast in the colours of Cybertron's sun, and Ratchet's gruff voice shakes you out of your visual reverie.
"While the Space Bridge is functional, it consumes more Energon than I previously calibrated for. The stabilisers require an equal amount of fuel to keep the portal steady, and according to my calculations we'll need to find a more stable source Energon in order to continue its functionality. We have more than enough for a few more trips, but nowhere near enough to bridge to Earth where our secondary supply is." He looks at Bumblebee.
"And you're certain you've found no Energon sources on your scouting missions?"
Bumblebee shrugs at the doctor. "I had a pretty one-track mission; find the Well of the Allsparks and report back. I've found a few useful supplies that I've brought back, but no clue as to where any lingering Energon storage units are. At least not any that are close."
Optimus hums, stoic. It looks like he's inwardly deliberating. "We must prioritise rejuvenating the Well with the Emberstone, if we're fortunate then Energon mines should be easier to find once the Well is active again." He turns to Ratchet and Wheeljack. "In the meantime, attempt to recalibrate the stabilisers. If we can save on any fuel, we must try. Perhaps look for an alternate fuel source if all other means prove unstable, but only as a last resort."
Wheeljack pops into an easy salute, while Ratchet looks lost in his thoughts. Bumblebee looks behind him at the powered down Space Bridge, a sigh clearly visible. "So no high-grade for a long while then."
Optimus looks impassively at his scout, but doesn't say anything. His expression is impossible to read.
Ratchet and Wheeljack get back to tinkering as Bumblebee pipes back up. "So?" He addresses his leader. "When're we doing this thing?" He gestures to Optimus' subspace where the Emberstone no doubt lies. "You've gotta be as excited as I am to finally do this."
The larger figure of Optimus turns his helm to face his young comrade, expression facing away from you. Even if you could see what he was feeling, you doubt the emotion would be comprehensible on his faceplate. Instead the leader sighs heavily, pauldrons tense.
"I am as eager as all of you to proceed with this mission. However I cannot push forward with the next step until I am certain that all variables are taken care of. If this is our one chance, we must ensure that we do it right."
Bumblebee's expression turns heavy. "Oh yeah." He responds. "I guess I keep thinking of what will happen once everything is working and alive again. I got a bit carried away with the future, I hadn't even considered what it would take to actually get there." His optics glisten. "What variables still need to be accounted for?"
Optimus' posture straightens. "Leave those concerns to me, you have done much for the betterment of this mission. The Autobots and all those that may come to live on Cybertron thank you." His tone takes on a hurried edge. "I would ask one more task of you, my young friend. Would you please make the announcement that we will proceed with the next stage in approximately three groons. I perceive that it will mean more coming from you."
The smaller yellow mech straightens to a similar stance, almost in mimicry. He pops into a lazy salute with a smile on his faceplate. "You can count on me, Optimus."
You can hear the smile in Optimus' response. "I know I can."
The excitement seems to die down. Optimus and Bumblebee walk away after a quieter conversation, and the remaining engineers continue tinkering with the big machine in silence. You watch for a bit longer, as Ratchet consumes himself with his work, and Wheeljack dawdles around, evidently less interested or perhaps tired you're unsure.
Eventually Wheeljack makes some sort of off handed comment about leaving, and Ratchet doesn't even respond. If you really think about it, this might be your perfect opportunity to do some reconciliation.
Turning to face your favourite trio, you address the room loudly. "Hey, if I was gonna do something drastic, would you let me?"
Thundercracker looks up from his preening (is that what he was doing?) and responds dryly. "Only with direct supervision."
You jump down from the windowsill. That was all the permission you needed.
"Great, you guys can watch in the window if you want. I'm going out."
Without even waiting for a retort, you've run out the door, passing the curious and worried looks on Skywarp and Starscream's faceplates. If Ratchet won't notice you from the window, maybe now's the time to make yourself more obvious. And with the Seekers watching (and hopefully not interfering) you'll be safe no matter what happens.
Autobot retry number two, electric boogaloo.
Ratchet's circuits were buzzing. While he knew throwing himself into his work and his extremely important task was productive, deep down he knew the real reason why he was so focused on his necessary tasks.
One would think that he, of all bots, would be driven to revive their dead planet; to ensure that their race could live again on the lands of their home. One might also assume that it was due to his close friendship with Optimus that he was so driven to succeed. One might assume both, or even more smaller factors that incited this kind of frenzied drive to succeed.
But there was another reason, a deeper reason, as to why Ratchet threw himself into his work thusly.
During the Golden Age of Cybertron, Ratchet could fuel his inner spark with the joy and affection he witnessed in his many years as a sparkling doctor. His solar cycles were full and warm, surrounded by tiny newsparks that needed him, smiled at him, cared for him. There was little in that life he did not find satisfying, content in the knowledge that he was a specialist in his chosen field, a doctor that was not only counted on but trusted by Carriers and Sires alike with their small treasures. It took a special kind of mech to be a sparkling doctor, and Ratchet thrived in that life.
Then the war came, and suddenly the light was sapped from his world.
Not just the living, breathing heart of Cybertron; but the metaphorical heart too. With no more sparklings, Ratchet lost his purpose, and the bright light in his spark dimmed.
The many joors spent thinking "not yet, there will be time in the future for a sparkling just for you" were suddenly gone, replaced by the screams of the offlined and the dying. Ratchet traded his soft tools for weapons, military grade saws for cutting dense armour, high-powered sutures for messily melded fuel lines and a grim expression where a soft smile would be. The war carried on for a long, long time, and the lines in his faceplate grew denser and more permanent by the stellar cycle.
He traded his soft voice for a gruff, unflinching persona; one who did his best to ensure that his patients would live, even if it meant being crippled for life. Without the plethora of supplies he had during the Golden Age, Ratchet found he had to constantly make do with what he had.
The years of war had changed him, but one thing always remained. His work was only ever a means of distraction from the all-encompassing emotion he felt buried inside his processor. He was not a religious mech, so he would spend no astroseconds praying to a Primus that wasn't listening. He focused on the here and the now and he tried not to think about the past. The future was full of variables that couldn't be counted even with a thousand mathematical equations, so he let that be.
But with the discovery of the Terrans, and the sparkling, Ratchet found it harder and harder to keep those feelings buried. Those hopes, those dreams of having a sparkling of his own came surging back full force like a supernova.
He wanted.
He yearned.
He needed.
But they had not chosen him, despite it all. And the crushing feeling remained, imbedding itself alongside his deep yearning like a scar across his spark.
After the sparkling left him, he tried to convince himself that he would be fine merely interacting with the sparkling; just having some time together. They didn't have to be his so long as he could be important to them. But Primus had decided to be a cruel god, and instead the sparkling seemed to fear him, and the rest of the Autobots. Whatever poison the Decepticons were spewing was working, and his burgeoning hope was steadily snuffed cycle after cycle.
Ratchet threw himself into his work as a distraction, one that consumed his processor with numbers and formulas, variables and possibilities, rather than focusing on the deep-seated sadness that had long-since made a home in his spark.
The construction of the Space Bridge and the endless chattering of Wheeljack were a welcome boon to the black pit that Ratchet held inside himself. Sure, there were a few hiccups along the way, but the Space Bridge was altogether functional, and would be able to withstand a few more trips to and from the Well of the Allspark. Not long from now, Cybertron would be revived using the power of the Emberstone, and all of Primus' children would trickle back to their home. A new age would begin, and new life would bloom on Cybertron once again.
But that ache remained. Ratchet hadn't considered how fast he had thought of the little newspark as his (even though they decidedly weren't), but the coding within him demanded that he run to them now, and take them out of the danger they were currently surrounded by. Three Decepticon killers, all playing at being Guardians.
But there was nothing Ratchet could do but throw himself into his work.
He was in the middle of performing calibrations on the Space Bridge when a small sound caught his audials. At first he thought it might be Wheeljack tinkering with something, but then he remembered idly that the engineer had excused himself to refuel, or perhaps recharge; Ratchet hadn't been paying attention. Turning his helm to find the source of the noise, he was abruptly taken off guard.
The tiny, oh so tiny, sparkling was mere steps away, not a single Decepticon in sight, holding the toy he had lovingly made.
Understandably shocked, Ratchet found he couldn't move. This felt like a trap, even as his coding surged at the sight. Their bright green optics looked at him unflinchingly, wings steady and posture relaxed. Was this really happening?
When they moved, Ratchet fought the urge to flinch. They lifted a small talon and Primus-damned waved at him.
"Hi Ratchet." Came their bell-like voice. "Do you have time to talk for a bit?"
He stuttered. "W-well yes, of course. What do you need? Do you feel suboptimal?" Ratchet inwardly praised himself for his composure.
"I feel fine, thank you for asking." They took a small step forward, barely noticeable to a mech of his size but it felt akin to an offering. "I was hoping we could talk a bit about…stuff. I think I might have been a bit unfair to you so I'm here to make up for it."
Ratchet held his unneeded breath, his protoform tightly coiled underneath his plating.
They lifted up the toy plane, the one that he remembered welding together with spare metal from a ruined storage container. He even painted it using his own colours, red and white.
"Did you make this?"
Ratchet felt his knee joints buckle under his own weight. He disguised his inner turmoil by lowering himself gently to the deck, hopefully disguising his tremble.
"I did." He replied softly, as if a louder volume would scare them away.
Like a small beam of sunshine, a tiny smile, barely an uptick of the intake, grew on their faceplate. "I like it, thank you Ratchet."
He tried not to stutter. "I–erm, you're welcome. All sparklings should have toys." He paused, giving himself courage enough to say the next words.
"Are you alone?"
The sparkling nodded, tiny helm bobbing. While he imposed innocence unto every sparkling, he didn't trust those Seekers to leave them alone for a second, especially recently. They had to be somewhere nearby, watching.
"What're you doing?" Their tiny, lilting voice brought him out of his complicated reverie.
Ratchet gestured behind him to the control panel with a jut of his servo. "Uh, calibrating the Space Bridge." Taking a mental leap, he posed his next question. "Would you like to know how it works?"
This earned him a small smile, one that set his core ablaze. He would do anything to see more of that. Emboldened, he placed a servo gently on the ground a few paces away from the sparkling, an offer on display. If they wanted to proceed further, it would be their own choice.
They paused only a moment, then stepped lightly forward, the miniscule weight on his palm as they got themselves comfortable making his spark soar. These were small steps forward, and Ratchet didn't want to ruin what was currently a really good thing.
Standing slowly (and glancing around discreetly to the best of his ability for signs of the Seekers, of which he could find none), he turned and showcased his task, namely the control panel.
"This is the Space Bridge Operational Control Panel. Here we can isolate variables and direct the Bridge where it needs to start and end from." He pressed a button, activating the screen on low power. "See? These numbers dictate our current coordinates, and more specifically the coordinates of the ship. The last six digits of every code are the exact location down to elevation and possible obstructions." He pressed another button, feeling himself getting carried away already, but he couldn't stop himself from infodumping.
The screen changed to a three-dimensional layout of the ship. "This mockup allows us to permanently access the Bridge from the ship, whereas it would normally be stationary on a planet's surface; immovable. It's a testament to our engineering team that this is even possible, let alone have the resources available to build it." Leaving out Wheeljack's name seemed like a safe decision in this scenario. "With this Space Bridge we will be able to transport ourselves and anything large enough to fit in the portal anywhere on Cybertron, even if the destination is on the other side of the planet. All you need is clear coordinates."
"Though the problem I'm working on at the moment is that due to the fact that the Bridge was built with limited resources, and given the fact that we have fewer resources than I'd prefer, we've run into a fueling issue."
Turning away from the control panel, he glanced down at the small sparkling, who thus far hadn't made a single peep. But they met his gaze steadily, craning their helm, obviously interested. So he prattled on, unable to stop himself.
"You see this fuel line?" He gestured to a single cable with a green stripe around it. The little one nodded. "That's where the energy gets in, that's the Energon cable that powers the machine."
They looked up, green optics wide. "It's refuelled by Energon? Is it alive?"
Ratchet let out a short laugh that surprised him. "No, no. Energon can be used as a fuel source as much as it is a fuel source for us, but not in the same way. Consider it like Earth's primitive electricity, I suppose, just in liquid form."
"Oh, that makes sense." He inwardly cheered at their comprehension.
"But the issue I'm currently working on is that we have enough stored Energon for a few more trips through the Space Bridge, but it was originally designed to allow us to travel back to Earth easier, where our secondary Energon storage is housed."
The sparkling stiffened in his palm at the word Earth, but didn't say anything. He kept talking to fill in the silence.
"We've sent out scouts to find possible Energon storage nearby, but Bumblebee hasn't found anything yet. But we'll keep looking."
They gripped the base of one of his digits tensely, perhaps anxious about something? Then they piped up.
"When I was with Barricade, we went to this place that he called an Autobot Energon Storage facility or something. It was in a place called Kalis."
Ratchet tried not to tense at Barricade's name, instead focusing on their words. "Kalis, you say? That's pretty far. But this is good information, you may have delayed our issue for a while." Feeling affectionate, and slightly overcome with feeling, they reached up and patted the top of their helm with a digit. Awaiting repercussions, he was delighted to find there were none, just a happy sparkling. He was crushed with the fact he had to be honest and say the next words aloud. "Though it'll take a while for one of us to venture all the way there, and I'm not sure it'll be an accepted mission to take via the Space Bridge."
But the sparkling wasn't deterred. "I understand. And Emberstone liquid wouldn't work?"
The doctor froze. He wouldn't…hadn't even considered that as a possibility.
"'Cause like you guys and the machine use Energon, but I don't 'cause I'm different but I'm still a robot though, that makes sense right? At least, that's how I interpreted it."
Firstly, he would never reduce the sparkling's fuel source, however infinite it may be. There were still tests to be run considering its efficacy in various diluted forms, different liquid substances.
Secondly, he had always worked with Energon in his mechanical inventions. He'd worked with Energon for over four millenia, and Emberstone liquid had only existed for a few brief Earth years, barely a blip in his lifespan.
But…the youngling's idea had merit. He wanted to baulk at the idea, but if he considered the methodology logically, all of the Cybertronians save for the sparkling needed Energon to survive. That meant there was a finite amount of Energon where they could consume and use the Energon as fuel. The sparkling needed to refuel less, there was only one of them, and they were tiny in comparison.
Furthermore, if one considered the fact that it was Ratchet's discovery in the first place that the Well of the Allsparks could be rejuvenated using the power of the Emberstone, would it not be a logical hypothesis in that perhaps in the coming age it would be Emberstone powered machinery as opposed to Energon?
Intake gaping, he looked down at the sparkling. "I hadn't…considered that."
Suddenly inspired, he carefully rested the sparkling on the control panel and sent a quick comm to Optimus concerning the idea. He didn't even have to wait an astrosecond before he got permission to use the Emberstone charged liquid in his experiments.
The sparkling kicked their feet idly, waiting for the attention to be on them again. Ratchet's processor was currently swarming with calculations.
If it proved functional, this could save more than just fuel, this could save time. This could increase their duration in which they could look for more Energon, while still having enough reserves to fuel their Autobot and small Decepticon population.
They chirruped, getting his attention. Their optics were wide and bright, not a trace of fear. "So, you think it'll work?"
Fighting the urge to smile and losing, he let a small grin form on his faceplate. "I think it's worth a try."
In no time at all Arcee appeared with a small storage container tucked underneath one arm. She appeared cheerful, though she was momentarily distracted upon noticing the sparkling atop the control panel.
The sparkling offered a small wave, identical to the one they had given him. A similar smile too.
Placing the container on the ground, Arcee made no movement that suggested she was going to leave. This, surprisingly, did not deter the sparkling at all.
"Hi." Came their tinny voice. "I don't think we've met properly yet."
Shaking herself out of what was no doubt a tornado of HUD pop-ups, Arcee offered a shy wave back. "I'm Arcee." She said a bit too quickly. "I'm here to…" She gestured to the storage container, sentence trailing off.
The sparkling held their smile and replied. "Nice to meet you." Then they frowned slightly. "Uh, I don't think I have a name yet, otherwise I'd introduce myself properly." They craned their helm and locked Ratchet's optics in a vice. "Is that normal?"
Ratchet was beginning to flush the system of Energon to then replace with the Emberstone liquid Arcee had brought. He heard the question in his audials a beat later than he would have if he had been paying attention. "Normally your Carrier or Sire would be the one to name you, but didn't you have a name before? Why don't you use that?"
They shrugged. "Don't remember." The words came out mumbled. While Arcee gave no indication of registering those particular words, Ratchet remembered a similar emotional shout when it came down to the sparkling's memories. He filed that away in his memory files for later.
Instead, Arcee looked excited, which Ratchet could sympathise with. Assigning a designation to a sparkling was something that only a Sire or a Carrier (and in rare cases, a Guardian) could do. Ratchet would saw his own arm off for the opportunity, and it was clear that Arcee held the same sentiment. Being the one to name the first sparkling in four millenia was an honour, and honestly Ratchet was somewhat surprised that none of the Seekers (nor Barricade for that matter) had deigned to provide them with a designation.
From the moment they showed him their alt-mode Ratchet had been idly coming up with designations in the back of his mind. When they left he shut down that section hard, making it impenetrable. The possible designations hurt too much, despite the joy he had felt while coming up with them.
But this sparkling was different, it was possible that they didn't require a Guardian to choose for them, created as they were. Perhaps it was their own choice, or they could be prone to suggestion?
Either way, Ratchet wasn't going to risk this chance to become overbearing concerning designations this early, he wasn't going to let this good, positive moment slip by and be ruined. He shot Arcee a firm look and promptly changed the subject, hoping she'd catch on. If she went too far, he'd comm her privately.
Servos busy, as they always were, Ratchet had been loosening valves and reversing the flow of Energon from the Space Bridge in preparation for the experimentation with the Emberstone charged liquid. He'd start small; rather than power the entire machine, he would first try just the control panel, and begin adding more parts to see how well (or if at all) the machine took to the new fuel source. Getting the screen online was the first challenge, and he knew there would be a fair bit of tinkering before getting everything fully online, if it functioned at all.
"Look here," he said, getting the sparkling's attention back to him. "I'm reversing the flow of Energon to purge the systems before attempting to add the hypothetical alternate fuel source." He gestures to one of the larger bolts that surrounded the pipe. "See this? This bolt serves as a hard-stop, no fuel will pass by this valve to the portal directly. We want to test just a small area first, so we'll contain the fuel to just the control panel, which I can operate manually. If the test goes well, we'll start ingratiating other parts of the machine, calibrating as we go."
The sparkling faced him, listening intently, making his fuel lines run warm. Pressing the necessary buttons, he gestured in a minutely dramatic fashion for the little one, making them smile more. It looked silly, and even earned a curious look from Arcee, but Ratchet couldn't find it in himself to care.
Each movement he made was slightly dramatised, flipping switches and relegating the purged Energon to a spare container. Then he began adding the Emberstone liquid, watching carefully to ensure there was no run-off or leaks. But he was a professional, thus everything proceeded smoothly.
Ratchet was just about to press the activation button when the youngling chirped up. "Can I do it?" Their tiny voice seemed excited at the idea of pressing a single button.
But Ratchet would have done anything for them if they spoke in that little voice. He would move the sun and stars to see that little smile again. So, with no real reluctance, he presented the opportunity with as much grace as he could, stumbling a little over his words and agreeing far too quickly.
Their small pedes walked over the face of the control board and stopped close to the activation button. A big smile on their faceplate, they pushed inward with all their might and a bright flash appeared above them.
The screen was active!
The sparkling giggled, a sound that sent sparks skittering through his nervous system. The panel was functional! The usual colour was slightly off, more of an Emberstone teal rather than Energon green, but pressing a few more buttons, Ratchet noted that the entire panel was functional! Feeling slightly giddy himself, he began to slowly activate more sections to test the output of the fuel source.
"Well done Ratchet! It seems your hypothesis was correct once again." Arcee's cheerful tone was somewhat muted in his audials due to his task, but the sparkling's voice rang loud and clear.
"Hey! It was my idea." They huffed gently, no real venom in their tone.
Arcee turned and smiled brightly. "You came up with this idea? That's incredible!" She scrunched her faceplate, beaming. "There's no way I was nearly as smart at your age."
The sparkling looked somewhat proud (an expression that oddly mirrored Starscream, a thought that made Ratchet's fuel lines run briefly cold). All the while Ratchet calibrated, tinkered and tested the board, each attempt successful. The sparkling even ran around his digits as he worked, laughing lightly all the while, dodging his servos like it was a game. Their steps were sure, steady, and did not interfere at all with his process. He even found he enjoyed it.
Arcee laughed too, a light sound he hadn't heard in his presence in a long time. With the lighthearted distraction surrounding him, this was proving to be even less work than he anticipated.
Arcee continued to speak with the sparkling, keeping their attention while Ratchet worked. He didn't mind, as whenever something exciting happened Ratchet had their attention right back. He found himself smiling as he worked, the din of conversation adding to his concentration and contributing an air of fun that made him feel younger. He was almost ready to test the portal itself, he just had to allow the fuel lines to fully flow into the main portal activation centrum, and send a few test items through to see if it was fully functional.
"I'm about to send the fuel to the main section of the Space Bridge. We'll have to pick some coordinates to send it, any ideas?" The question was mainly posed to the sparkling, as a means of keeping them interested. He funnelled the fuel down to the centrum all the while, servos busy.
"How about Kalis? On the off-chance it works, there's a potential Energon storage place where you can stuff back supplies." They looked confident with their choice.
"An excellent suggestion." Arcee replied.
"Kalis it is then. Arcee if you would input the coordinates and then help me connect these opposing fuel rods simultaneously to the centrum? They need to be connected within a few astroseconds of each other otherwise there's the potential for leakage." Arcee nodded, inputting the long string of numbers that represented Kalis into the monitor.
Wheeljack was going to be disappointed he missed this, but Ratchet felt safer knowing that the sparkling was more comfortable in his and Arcee's presence than the green mech's. He really didn't want to ruin this moment.
A small ding noise notified Ratchet that the coordinates had been submitted, and he gestured to the far side of the centrum to where the second fastening point lay. "Now, on three."
Arcee nodded, and got into position. Ratchet even caught the wry wink she shot at the sparkling, who laughed from their position atop the control panel.
"One, two, three!"
Both fuel gages were pushed into their respective ports, and an Emberstone teal light began to light up the sides of the activation centrum. Ratchet and Arcee took a step back, giving the area some space.
He hadn't been watching, but a small noise entered his audials amidst the whirring of activating machinery. It sounded similar to a tiny oof, and then things began to go wrong.
The portal surged into life, the same green as the Emberstone. It was bigger than the last portal, and activated far more quickly and efficiently. This would have been a great discovery, except that Ratchet hadn't activated it. It had turned on on its own.
Ratchet's helm whipped around in enough time to catch a horrible scene unfold before his optics. The sparkling had somehow slipped or fallen on the control panel, accidentally activating the portal.
As the Bridge surged to life, said portal appeared to be sucking them in, an invisible wind or magnetic force rocketing them past his helm before he had time to react. His prior cheer died in his spark as he watched the sparkling fly through the air, not by their own will, and pass through the portal with a choked, frightened scream.
Immediately Ratchet ran to catch them, shouting, running through the portal himself.
But to his dread, he passed through the portal and appeared on the other side of the centrum, as if it were a door rather than a Bridge. As if he passed through nothing at all. Nothing happened.
And the sparkling was nowhere to be seen.
