Spinning! He was spinning around and around, faster and faster, his hands held tightly by the much larger ones of his carrier, whose smile spread clear across her shiny silver face-plate, as she ran fast in tight circles. He gave one loud laugh, and quickly began to giggle hard, unable to make himself stop, and not wanting to in any case as she spun still quicker. And just as quickly, his carrier was laughing too.
"Hold on tight," she warned him, laughing though still clearly serious all the same. "If I let you go now, you might just fly off the roof!"
"I fly, I fly," Soundwave answered speaking as well as he could, and doing it between hard giggles, because he wasn't thinking much about it all and thinking was the thing that seemed to make speaking hard instead of easy.
"That wouldn't be a good thing," Shortwave replied at once. And she finally stopped spinning around, letting his feet drop again to the ground before she promptly bent to scoop him up into her arms, where he stayed a moment laughing again halfway hanging upside down while, her arms supported his weight.
"You are getting too heavy," Shortwave said in a second. And she pretended she was about to drop him, letting him come close to falling to the ground below, before her arms caught him again in well under a single second.
"I grow up..." Soundwave replied, as she placed him squarely back on his feet again.
"Nope!" she answered. And she grinned big at him, before she tapped the front of his face-plate. Then she kneeled down and shook her head. "You won't grow up. Ever. Not allowed, because I said so."
"I do fly soon," Soundwave said, after a silent moment, and the small wings of the back of his frame perked up as straight as they could with the idea of using them eventually.
He knew he would never likely be the best of flyers. His genetic programming meant that his wings were build for lower altitude and slower flight speed. But also for endurance, and staying up for ages. Unlike many who were clearly so fast, he would never be a sprinter in the air. And he was proud as any just to be a flyer just like his carrier was... and unlike his grounder creator.
"Nope," Shortwave told him firmly, but still laughing all the while. And she tapped him again on his face-plate, before she pulled him against her much larger frame and hugged him tight. "That would mean you're growing up. And I just said, not allowed."
"I... fly far," Soundwave protested, as he hugged her back, and then scrammed into her lap. He sat a moment like that, and he looked far out over the edge of the roof of their housing structure. He small hands gestured quickly as he spoke again, the very best he could. "I fly be...beyond Kaon. The whole way to Iacon..."
"I think that would be wonderful," was his carrier's answer, without even a pause.
"You fly too... I learn, and you fly too." Soundwave looked up again at his carrier. And his optics fell now on the damage to her face-place. Two large dents and too many scuff marks from the time his creator had beat her again just that morning. She had let the wash station accidentally overflow, and had refused to agree out loud that she was careless and stupid when he ordered her to do so. Her right arm was dented too, from his rough grabbing hands. "Forever. We go. You be safe."
"We'll leave here one day," Shortwave said. "I'll find us a way out, and as soon as I do, we'll go... that way!" She let go of his with one arm in order to point to the west, before she laughed again, and spun herself awkwardly on the ground with him still in her lap, pointing south, then east. "Or that way. Maybe that way..."
She was laughing again. But Soundwave was not. He looked intently at a barely healing gash across the front of his carrier's chest panel – one he'd helped her clean the day day before with hot water he'd fetched her when his creator had stumbled of to recharge, drunk, furious and muttering about how he would kill them both. It was hardly new, the words of hate. But the little youngling knew that she'd only gotten that injury after she had defended him from one of his own. Soundwave knew he never should have shed those tears after he'd been mocked for three wrongly placed words.
"Creator – kill you," Soundwave said. Tears threatened again, but he refused to shed a single one. He felt he'd learned well to never cry now, because last time he had someone important had been hurt. But his fear came to him suddenly, and soon he was shaking where he sat staring up at his carrier. "I was... I am. I not should been. He kill one day you. Be... cause I am me."
His language was failing him again, although he tried so hard. But Shortwave only listened carefully to each word he said. And the look in her optics told him clearly that she was working to place the words in order as she heard them. She was always patient, refused to finish a sentence when he struggled to get it right, and she always let him try his hardest.
"He won't," Shortwave said, smiling as she hugged Soundwave tighter again. "He will never take me from you. Or you from me..."
"Mama, promise?" Soundwave asked, his faceplate still tight against her body armour.
"I promise," Shortwave said, and Soundwave looked up again just in time to she her smile at him.
"But I never was wanted," he said, trying hard to make sense, as she got sad all over again. "Soundwave – mistake..."
"My greatest mistake. My happiest accident!" Shortwave answered at once still smiling as she hugged him again. "If I'd known how much I'd love you I'd have wanted you two centuries ago to save me waiting..."
Soundwave awoke with a terrible start. And for a moment he did not know where he was at all. He could not see a thing, and for a moment his instinct was to adjust the system of tiny cameras he used to see the world. He looking to the right, using his optics in that manner to adjust the vertical tracking, and then quickly he looked right for horizontal. But it did no good. He could see nothing at all, and that included his control screen and function menus. He might have panicked then. But he was still to close to recharge for panic, and instead he simply felt confused. Why though, he asked himself, a slow second later, was he so tired to begin with. And it was then that anxiety began, however slowly, to set in.
"Soundwave. Open your optics," a voice, speaking from somewhere nearby and to his right sound familiar as it spoke to him firmly And he heard a slight chuckle in the voice, behind the firm seriousness of it.
Slowly, he took the advice and opened his optics – realizing only then to his disbelief that he had simply not seen a thing because they had been closed.
"I am not used to vision without technology," he said quietly. And a sense of unease quickly followed, making him look away from the old bot just as soon as he'd looked in his direction.
"Your optics were damaged for centuries," Ratchet answered. And his tone of understanding was still somehow surprising and strange. The old bot chuckled a little under his intake. "Of course you'll still forget from time to time that you can in fact use them just like any bot."
Soundwave had always disliked laying down, anywhere but within the security of a locked living space - and even then only for necessary recharge. It made him uneasy, and he did not like unease. And just as soon as he felt his disorientation fade away, and without waiting for permission from the old medic to try doing so, he sat himself up on the recharge station just as quickly as he could manage to move. Ratchet cast him a glare for a second, and finally he just went instead to lightly shaking his head, clearly resigned to giving in.
"How do you feel?" the old bot questioned, his tone clearly cautious. And the look he gave turned serious, as he warned firmly, "hold onto your side rail for a moment if you insist on being up like that." And his optics gestured toward the railing, in an upright position on the left hand side of the recharge station. "You've only just come out of power-down. For you to get dizzy and take a potentially terrible fall is the last thing we need."
"Inquiry – what do I look like?" Soundwave asked slowly, while he held lightly to the side rail as advised. He felt the very instant he'd asked that it was a strange question for him to even consider. But somehow he felt like it mattered anyway.
Standing beside the recharge station, Ratchet only shook his head a little for a moment, as though trying to carefully consider his words before he spoke. And finally he did so. "I'll be perfectly honest about this. I feel like I've been able to make some obvious improvements. But in some aspects it's almost worse, just because of the extensive work involved. Your self repair systems will take care of this withing a couple of days and it should quickly seem better... Remember too, this is only the first of two, possibly three major repairs..."
"Firestorm will be happy to see you," the old medic continued on, making conversation a moment later as he cleaned up a nearby worktable. "She has Laserbeak too. I must say I'm still amazed at how much that bird of yours appears to like her..."
"Firestorm – coming back?" Soundwave questioned slowly
"Coming back?" Ratchet chuckled then with a clearly ammused shake of his head "I'm not sure she ever left. She's been in the waiting area for most of the afternoon, mostly reading datapads. But I must say she's certainly hitting it off with a couple of my patients too." He chuckled again and gestured in the vague direction of the door, where it was now known that Firestorm waiting somewhere beyond. "I'll let her come in here in a minute. But she can't stay long. You are going to rest a while this evening, if I'm going to let you out in the morning as planned..."
"Tell her to go home," Soundwave answered at once. And he stared straight ahead right in the face of the old medic's shocked and dismayed look.
"What do you mean tell her to...?" Ratchet questioned, shaking his head.
"Send her away. Tell her she might as well go off to find her friends and do whatever it is that they do."
"Soundwave," Ratchet snapped, and Soundwave knew he should have expected exactly that to happen, although he had not. "Don't you expect me to believe for a minute that you lack social skills enough to know full well how wrong it is of you to brush her off and push her away like that. Firestorm is positively dedicated to you. And you continue to tear her little spark to pieces, throwing her love for you back into her face-plate, because you've decided in the past months that it's suddenly appropriate to feel sorry for yourself!"
"Firestorm has spoken with you...?" Soundwave asked, his speech slower than ever, as sudden dread filled his spark, at a returned recent memory, of having flung the poor little bot backward across his room with a flying cable, because he was too upset to even think.
"She has." Ratchet nodded, confirming. But his voice was calmer now, understanding "She talked to me about a recent incident inside your living space, following the last repair to your optics..." The old bot stood a second, just shaking his head, before he continued on again. "You're lucky she saw right through that rage of yours. Most bots wouldn't have. Most bots, particularly physically vulnerable minibots as small as she is, would have run and never looked back. Firestorm is smart, intuitive... she knew exactly what was really wrong... Most bots wouldn't have bothered to even think about it before they gave up on you..."
He stopped speaking abruptly and wandered partway across the medbay, to pick up a folding chair left near a worktable a short ways away. Shaking his head again he carried it over, set it down near Soundwave's recharge station, and gave a little huff under his intakes. Slowly, with his head still shaking just a little he walked away and headed right out the door far across the medbay.
Soundwave shifted his position a little on the recharge station, after the old medic had gone. He dared to let go of the side rail again. And quickly feeling less than comfortable, he moved to sit with his legs over the side, before he grew unexpectedly light headed and grabbed for the rail again before promptly – though reluctantly - laying down again. The room began to spin, slowly at first and then quickly much faster, until he closed his optics tightly. And even then, it felt as though he was flipping oddly first to one side then the other, though he knew on some other level he was in one place.
"Soundwave...?" A small familiar voice called through the darkness of his closed optics, and the perceived motion of the room. He dared to open his optics again, and as he did the terrible motion slowly stopped.
Firestorm stood a short distance away, paused and leaning forward against her walking frame, which Laserbeak sat perched on the bars of. Abruptly Firestorm began to walk forward again just as fast as she possibly could have done safely, with her metal feet tapping against the medbay floor, and concern clear on her face-plate. And Soundwave knew at once he must have dozed into recharge at least a moment because he hadn't heard her feet at first.
"Yu uh'kay?" she asked quietly. And she sat down in the folding chair that Ratchet had so obviously left for her. Laserbeak left the walking frame she'd been riding on at once and flew to perch quickly on the side-rail of the recharge station.
"I am alright," Soundwave answered. He thought perhaps he should smile at her. But he still barely could.
"Ratchet send'me'in," Firestorm said, and Soundwave only nodded, figuring exactly so.
Somehow, now that she was with him again, he lacked all spark to be angry at the old bot for refusing to mind his own business. Instead he gestured with a waving hand, toward his face-plate, and resisted the urge to look away from her as he did so.
"Presently terrible state as I understand..."
"Is'priddy bad," Firestorm answered. And the look in her optics was one as genuinely undisturbed as ever. "Ratchet tell'mee'it would'be. But it'll be'betta by ta'mor'ow..." She opened her storage compartment, and carefuly took out a could of data pads, which she set down the edge of the recharge station, with a smile on her face-plate. "Ah'brought'ya data pads ta'read. Ah... Ah'tink those'are da'one yu' readin now..."
"Thank you, Firestorm," Soundwave answered, grateful at once for the reading material. Because hehad taken to reading a great deal. And quite unlike himself, he had forgotten to bring anything along with him.
"No'pro'lem," Firestorm answered smiling. But suddenly her smile turned to a frown, and he looked at him intently an with concern. "Yu'look... sad..."
"I was thinking about my carrier," Soundwave admitted slowly. And he was sure, as soon as he said it, that it sounded ridiculous to her. It had after all been centuries... and she'd lost her own family too. But once he'd started, he felt a strange need to explain himself. And carefully, forcing himself to keep on looking at her instead of down and away, he continued. "I dreamed of her today. Of a time while I was still a youngling bot. A day up on the rooftop of the building I grew up in..." He paused then and shook his head, confirming out loud what he feared most in his own processor. "It's outrageous of me to still think of such things after so long..."
"No'it'not," Firestrom answered, smiling. And she leaned forward in the folding chair, grabbing his hands gently in hers. "My creators'joined'da allspark when'Ah'was so young... I don't ev'en know dem'at'all. Dat'why'Ah don't talk'or'tink bout'dem. Ah'kno dey'loved me'alot. Ah'kno'they want'd mee. An'wen dey passed' I was'given ta my'brother Windstorm. He's all I ra'mem'ber of my youngling life. Its won'er'ful yu can still tink'ov'your own'carrier..."
"I... I still remember exactly what she looked like." Soundwave mused, deciding now to talk a little more about his life because he knew just how much Firestrom enjoyed his stories of the past – though he never did understand exactly how and why she possibly could. "I can't possibly forget the last time I ever saw her, still alive, yelling at my creator like she thought she really stood half a chance. I... I so often wondered when I was much younger, what she'd looked like after she'd died..."
"Yu... never saw a body...?" Firestorm sound genuinely surprised and disbelieving.
"I didn't." Soundwave answered simply. Because he hadn't.
"You may come in," Ratchet called, in response to an unexpected knocking on the door of his office.
He expected it to more than likely be one of his eight medical students, with some question or other for him, as they visited the office often for that very reason. But the door slid open, and he blinked once in surprise and quickly concern, when Firestorm instead walked slowly through the doorway, with her little walking frame in front of her.
"What can I do for you this morning?" The old medic asked quickly, as he looked her over purely out of habit to do so with most bots aside from the students who visited his office. And quickly he let out a small a sigh of relief. She did not appear sick or damaged.
"Yu haf'few'minute?" Firestorm asked. And a sense of urgency was more than obvious behind her just as clear hesitation.
"I think I can spare a moment or ten," Ratchet answered cheerfully. He gestured with a hand toward a chair in front of his desk for her to sit in. And she stood a second more, anxiously wringing her hands a little before she pushed the frame over, parked it and sat down slowly.
"Ah'bin thinkin'bout da Cybermatter trials...," Firestrom said. She was clearly just a bit resistant, but still so certain and determined too all the same. "Ah wanna do'it... And Ah'am ready..."
"You're certain about this?" Ratchet questioned. He reached across his desk, to put a hand on her shoulder panel gently. And he smiled assurance. "You know you don't have to."
"Ah'kno..." the young bot replied quickly. And she smiled right back. "Ah wan'ta. Ah can't a-magine just never knowing'if we coulda done it... won'rin one'day if we ever could've. An'ta think Ah'could help'so many othas one'day juss'by bein da first..."
"We will try to arrange to go forward with this in a few days then, if you're okay with that," Ratchet explained, seriously. "No use at all really, in holding off too long. Please reread the notes I gave you and when you're done that, reread them again. In the next day or two, I'll be calling you back in as well for a meeting, where we can discuss everything in detail."
Firestorm smiled slightly in agreement, and she nodded her head a little as she did so. But still a slight anxiety was now more than clear on her face-plate.
"Ah'also bin... lookin'fa infam'ation" she said quickly. "Yu olda'bot. Bin'round long'before da'war. If anybot would'kno, yu migh..."
Ratchet considered a second, at least somewhat amused by her statement. Finally he felt a sense of pride in it somehow, just considering how long he really have lived and just how much he had seen. Slowly he smiled again at the young bot, before a chuckle escaped and he nodded.
"I might just know a good bit about a number of things," he said. He reached for the little dish of sweets on the corner of his desk, offered her one, and chuckled knowingly when she of course reached right for an iron flavoured as always. He choose a cobalt for himself, and chuckled again.
"If yu'were told some'un is dead, but'yu neva seen a'body, would'yu ble've they really'dead?"
Firestorm's question was perhaps the last thing Ratchet may have expected from her, or many bots in general. And he nearly chocked on the sweet he had just put into his mouth, because of it.
"I might," he answered slowly, when the intent and determined look on her face-plate told him she was entirely serious, despite the strangeness of the question. "But than I also may not." he thought a moment on exactly how to go about explaining, as he wondered all the while if he ought to be concerned with the young bot's sudden interest in questions involving the bodies of the dead of any possible subject. Finally, he added thoughtfully, "it would depend I suppose on who it was who gave me the news."
"Soo'iff some'un tought'he'had'a gooood reason'ta'lie bout some'tin soo'im'por'ant..."
"Firestorm, what is this all about?" Ratchet questioned carefully. And he reached over the top of his desk, to lightly take her hands in his, while he smiled with compassion.
"Soundwave's carrier," Firestrom blurted, speaking quickly then. And she starred intently forward, determination blazing in her optics. The look on her face-plate, was just as serious as the moment she'd walked in. "Soundwave tell'mee evy'ting 'bout'her... how'one day she juss'dead. Wat'if'he'wass lied'ta? His' carrier love'him more'dan eni'one."
Ratchet thought instantly of the creators he knew well, along with their creations – Bumblebee with his little Hotwire, Knockout with his much loved daughter... a flying bot called Jetstream – who he knew far less, but still had no reason to doubt – with his own pair of younglings, Takeoff and Runway.
"No one would tell a youngling bot his own creator was dead, if it wasn't true," he reasoned at once.
But Firestorm looked at him, intently as ever. And she slowly shook her head with doubt.
"Soundwave's migh'ave..." she insisted, serious. "He tell'mee he'neva saw'her. Just'hearfrom'him she wass'gone 'cause'he'd shot'er dead..." Firestorm fell silent again for a moment. And she appeared to think intently, before she spoke again. "His creator'sold him'into slave'ry a'soon as'she gone. Ah'tink he could'a lie'to do'it... Ah'only tell'yu'tings he tol'mee, 'cause'Ah tink then'we have hope'ov helpin'. And 'you'll keep'his secrets'safe."
"Hmm," Ratchet said, nodding a second at the young bot in understanding. Slowly though he continued on, explaining sadly. "Firestorm, the war for Cybertron went on for centuries. And it tore entire families apart. Siblings split from each other to join opposing factions, younglings separated from creators... Many bots chose neither faction at all. What's left of any records imply that over fifty percent may just have been neutrals. And those are the refugees like you... scattered across the stars on ships – some of which may never come home."
"Yu mean'ta say'dare no'ting we'can'do. No'way'ta eva'kno?" Firestorm was adamant. Determined as ever. And Ratchet shook his head just a little.
"Never say never," he said, meaning it entirely. "The was is over where once we believed it would never end. Our world is alive, where once we thought it was lost to us forever. But a search like this, for one bot on a rebuilding world... the people of Earth might have compared a search like this to 'finding a needle in a haystack.'" He paused a second chuckling, before he mused again, as serious as ever. "Now, I never did work out exactly what haystacks are, but I can only imagine that to search for needles in them is nearly impossible anyway. And without even a name to go on..."
"Her'name wass'Shortwave," Firestrom said quickly, and her tone fully indicated that she intended to persue the matter, despite the impossibilities against her. "She'wass a flya, from'Kaon."
"That was a very common name," Ratchet mused out loud. And though his doubt was more than great enough to show in his voice, he was interested too, excited at the prospect – however small – of eventual success. He chuckled a little, before he gave a slight huff under his intakes, and said with a laugh, "almost as common as Firestorm I think."
"Yu met'a bot call'Shortwave?" Firestorm asked at once. And her optics lit instantly with hope, almost as though she hadn't heard even half of what he'd said – though he knew she certainly had, and she certainly understood.
"I have. Eight I can recall off the top of my head. Three were femmes but none of those were flyers."
"This'harda than'Ah thought..." Firestorm mused, with a shake of her head in reply to his answer. But still, even now her optics shown with hope.
"A service record would might be some help if we could find one," Ratchet said in a tone meant to avoid any notion of false hope. "If she had been a 'Con, I fear Soundwave, of any bot, would easily have found that out himself through his access to records computers. I'm left to think then that she remained neutral. And if she did, and she managed to survive, she could be anywhere with no record at all to show that she was ever born. And so many bots changed their names at the start of the war."
"She'coulda bin'an Autobot..." Firestrom suggested, hopeful as ever. And she grinned up at him over the desk with a look that only she, it seemed, could ever quite pull off without looking entirely ridiculous.
"I'll admit it's possible." Ratchet muttered an answered, shaking his head slowly, as he held a finger up firmly. "But it's too small a chance to seem likely. This bot came from Kaon – where at the start of the war for Cybertron, you either joined up with Megatron's forces – which bots did willingly by the thousands. You choose neutrality and left the city quickly in the middle of the night... or you died horribly once the city was all too easily conquered."
"How'many make'it out'live'as Autobots?" Firestorm still refused to give up the track of her thinking, with the stubbornness of any still near youngling.
"It was a very small number," Ratchet explained. And he shook his head again, this time in regretful sadness. "Twenty – maybe thirty in total, out of a city that once housed a million bots."
"Mama!" Arcee heard Cybershock call. And she looked up, dismayed to see just how far her youngling had gotten from her in only a fraction of a second. The youngling left her place, had sitting on the natural bench at the edge of the oil pool with her carrier. And she now stood outside of the pool entirely, poised bent just slightly forward with her arms in front of her, at the very outside edge. "Watch me jump!"
Cybershock could certainly swim. She'd been brought to the pool for the first time just that morning, but she'd very easily picked it up on her own, by watching others do it and trying herself without ever being taught. And she quickly proved just as fearless in the watery oil as she did on the playground. Too fearless for her own safety, Arcee worried at once. Cybershock had never jumped in before, or been taught how to dive anymore than she;d been taught to swim. Clearly she only decided to try, because she'd seen Speedbreaker do it so easily.
"Be careful, please," Arcee warned. And she dropped quickly off the ledge, using her feet to tread oil deeper than her height, while at the same time she held her hands out, ready to grab her child in an instant.
"She's fine," Knockout said laughing lightly from his place, still sitting on the bench at the edge of the pool. He always had been the one to allow and even encourage the youngling's daring behaviour, while Arcee panicked, fretting about it.
"Are you watching? Are you watching?" The youngling questioned, bouncing a little on the edge, and ready to spring forward.
"I'm watching," Arcee answered. And indeed she was watching intently.
She questioned the wisdom in letting the youngling dive into the pool at all. She could swim, yes. And surprisingly well for a youngling who had just been introduced for the first time to an oil pool. Still - this was the first day she'd ever spent around it at all. But her child was confidant, excited, and she knew she could grab her in under a second. Her bond mate was right. The youngling was fine. Arcee did not swim much. Mostly she liked to sit on the edge, half in half out of the pool, perhaps tread a little... but she could do it very well if she had to. And she knew that sometimes – maybe most of the time – she needed to trust her younging's ability and confidence instead of holding her back.
"Jump!" she said to the youngling then. And Cybershock leapt right off the pool's edge, flying forward a good distance propelled by her forward motion.
She hit the thin oil laughing hard, and her momentum pulled her underneath so that for a second she all but disappeared entirely. But quickly she surfaced again, head up, arms rapidly treading oil, and a grin across her little blue face-plate. Instantly, she turned and began to swim toward the edge, before just as quickly climbing out, so obviously determined to do it again. And so Arcee watched her again. Carefully as ever. And again the youngling jumped in. This time, to her carrier's dismay, shock and worry, she pulled in a good intake right before she dove. And instead of coming up, she dropped toward the bottom, flipping over in the watery oil, reaching down as far as she could to touch the smooth surface at the very bottom of the pool, metres below her. She didn't come close, and soon she came back up. But still, by the time she did, Arcee's spark was pounding. Cybershock swam fast for the edge and climbed out, running again to jump back in yet again. And on this third jump, Arcee caught her as she hit the thin oil of the pool – not because she had to. Clearly she didn't. But because she simply wanted to. Because it was fun and it made her and her little one both laugh loudly.
"Your kid's unstoppable," Speedbreaker laughed from her place a short distance away. "Of course it doesn't hurt that she got you two for creators"
She sat on a wider section of the bench at a point higher up in even more shallow area, playing with her own youngling, and looked over a second laughing too. Hotwire may not have been so daring as Cybershock was – and that, in Arcee's opinion, was hardly a terrible thing – but still he was clearly having fun.
Arcee watched, smiling, as Speedbreaker kneeled down on the ledge in watery oil just past her knees, holding her little one tightly while she lifted him up and dunked him lightly into the water, still holding onto him. Hotwire's tiny feet kicked and his arms reached froward, paddling a little. Speedy let go of him, just barely and for only a second. And immediately the youngling lifted his head from the pool, and stood up on the low bottom, grabbing at his carrier's arms.
Cybershock took off swimming again. And Acree watched her carefully, pulled from her thoughts at once in order to intently do so. And the youngling promptly swam along the side pool, in oil metres deep, again with obvious confidence. Quickly she reached the place where her creator still sat half way in the pool, his arms up at once, reaching for her happily.
"Daddy..." the youngling said. Her voice was slightly whinny in a silly playing kind of way. "Jump in and play with me." She paused then a second, looked thoughtful and asked in a serious voice, "can you...?" It was the very first time she had ever questioned whether he could do something, where instead she had always assumed he could do anything even if he simply couldn't.
"I can," Knockout answered quickly. And indeed he could.
Arcee chuckled, mostly to herself, recalling a day while he was still in far worse condition and their youngling had not yet been born. She had been in the very late stages of carrying, and was so little use at all in doing a thing about it, when Bulkhead and Smokescreen had shoved Knockout on his mobility cart too close to the pool's edge close to deep oil, and with only a glance at each other and shared chuckles of laughter, they had dumped him forward, quite unceremoniously into the pool. Her first reaction had been fury mixed of course with panic, and quickly disbelief. But he swam for the surface, not perfectly but safely enough, just as he'd done a few times before. And on his face-plate she saw the biggest laughing grin ever, while she realized only then that he'd clearly allowed the bots at some point higher up the path to unstrap him from the cart.
"Come in here then!" Cybershock exclaimed. And she yanked urgently on his hands. Arcee wanted for a second to warn her, almost purely out of instinct, to be careful. But she saw just as clearly in the very same second, that the youngling was being just as careful as ever.
"No way," Knockout said, with a laughing smirk. And he shook his head dramatically. "Too cold..."
"Is not!" Cybershock argued, tugging again on his hands, and slightly harder this time.
"Is too," Knockout laughed, still shaking his head.
"No it's not. No it's not!" Cybershock protested, giggling as she splashed him as hard as she could, clearly intent on soaking him to prove her point.
Arcee laughed too, as she joined her youngling in her silly game, scooping up watery oil with her cupped hands to promptly dump it over her bondmate's head.
"Hey," Knockout exclaimed, laughing himself. "Just whose side do you suppose you're on?"
"Hers," Arcee answered without a thought, and her optics at once on their youngling. But she stopped a second later, and reaching forward, she rested her hands on the edge of the bench just below the surface of the watery oil, looking at him in slight concern, while she kept an optic on the youngling all the while.
"You alright?" she asked him hesitantly.
The days of sudden processor reboots, were far behind them – not seen since his second malfunction. And though the state of his body was still a ways from perfect, he certainly had the energy level of any bot, and he'd not been unwell in the least in a long while. But still, she knew how much he'd always loved the pool, because he could swim and float even when he still could not walk or stand.
"I'm good," Knockout said quickly. And he smiled at her – a smile that showed he meant it. Arcee smiled back, laughing while she shook her head, understanding at once, that he was getting a good kick out of playing with their youngling.
"Jump in," Cybershock begged again. And once again, she yanked lightly on her creator's arm. But she stopped suddenly and raised her head to look up, high above her, as she floated, treading lightly in the oil.
Arcee looked up at once herself. They all did. And in under a second a winged shadow moved over the pool. All five bots watched shocked and startled, as a second shadow, followed quickly after the first. And heavy metal wing-beats came with the sound, growing louder, as they dropped lower in the sky.
"What is that?" Speedbreaker cried, dismayed. Her optics quickly opened wide, and she leapt out of the pool with Hotwire in her arms, clinging to her while he pouted with fright at her sudden panic. "Wha... what's happening."
"Predicons," Arcee muttered under her intakes, just as soon as the pair of flying beasts moved still lower and dropped toward the far side of the pool. She recognized both SkyLynx and DarkSteel at once, and her spark dropped when she quickly realized she had no real idea what the pair may just do.
"The primitive life, Shockwave brought back from extinction?" Speedy questioned, disbelieving and so clearly shaken, as she stepped steadily backward further away from the pool, with wide open optics.
"Wow!" Cybershock exclaimed, beside her. And the youngling moved slowly to sit herself down on the bench next to her creator, scaring up at the creatures with no fear at all in her optics.
"They served as Autobot allies once," Arcee explained fast, thinking... hoping. "We can only hope they don't suddenly wish to kill us all again."
"Mama look," Cybershock continued, When Arcee, unsure what else to do exactly, snatched her up out of the pool and set her down on the metal ground outside of it. The little bot pointed across the large pool, to the place where the creatures had landed on the far side. "They have a baby too!"
"What?" Arcee muttered, shocked as she kneeled on the ground ready to help her mate, who of course could not get out of the pool easily on his own, if at all. Looking out across the oil, she saw exactly what her daughter was talking about – the still tiny beast, standing in a flying alt mode, between the much larger pair, its tiny wings flapping hard as it jumped from the ground struggling to lift itself into the air.
"Autobots!" DarkSteel roared loudly. And he took to the air again himself, flying quickly over the oil pool toward the gathered ground, before he changed directions unexpectedly in order to circle, in a clear show of intimidation. "This land belongs to us!"
The predicons had been given land at the end of the war – a large chunk of mountainous terrain to the west where the Autobot team had agreed to grant them the right to build their settlement and live out their lives in peace. And live in peace they so far had. No one had seen a single sign of one since the war had ended. At least not until that day. Arcee knew that the pool was outside of the land they had been gifted. And had she been alone she may just have yelled that fact out loud with confidence. But things were different and she know it. Predicons may have fought as allies once, and they never were known to make any trouble the bot population. But they were still unpredictable, and she knew that right then was hardly the time to forget that.
"DarkSteel," she called, somewhat hesitant and only hoping it was hidden well behind mock confidence. She stood on the ground just outside of the pool, looking up with both hands in front of her, to show that she was unarmed. "The council would surely welcome you to bring any land disputes to them, and whatever the outcome of that debate, we would all happily share the oil pool. But I'm out here with one refugee neutral, a disabled fellow Autobot, and two small younglings. We don't need any trouble.
Predicons, she knew well from experience, had respect for any bot who spoke to them as equals who could understand as well as anyone – because of course they could - instead of approaching them as the mindless animals the world once believed them to be. And sure enough, DarkSteel tipped his head to one side just slightly, as he flew, appearing to consider a moment.
"Give us just a moment," Arcee continued, cautiously. "Let us pack up and we will bridge out of here." She paused a second then, considering, before she spoke again, firmly. "Your turn to use a facility on common ground."
"Agreed," the predicon huffed. And turning again in the air, his huge form casting a shadow again as he did so, he flew back toward the opposite bank.
"Speedy," Arcee said quickly. "Call for a ground bridge back. Cybershock, could you push your daddy's mobility cart over here please?" Flustered and shaken, she shook it off the best best she could, and added quickly, "oh, and you'll need to release the hand brake. You remember how?"
"Yep," the youngling answered. But her answer was slow and distracted, and she didn't move to do what was asked at all, busy instead with watching the predicon youngling across the pool.
"Hello," the youngling bot called loud across the pool. Her optics were still fixed on the predicon baby. "My name is Cybershock. What's your name?"
Arcee's optics opened wider than before with her growing dismay, at the careless boldness of her youngling. And barely thinking much about it, she pulled her back gently by an arm, dragging her carefully against her frame before she turned enough to hide the youngling from view of the predicons across the pool. Surprisingly, it was Hotwire, who pushed the mobility cart closer to them. The tiny bot, not even able to see over the back of the machine as he shoved it forward, had stopped his frightened crying, seemingly determined to be useful himself. And he managed to park the thing half facing sideways, and close enough to the pool to almost become dangerous.
"Thank you, Hotwire," Arcee told him, smiling a little. Because of course the little bot had tried his very best.
"Firestorm?" Soundwave asked slowly. His voice was quiet as it usually was. "How do you feel?"
Firestorm looked around the empty medbay - which from her position, sitting up, legs bent comfortably in front of her, on a repair table close to the far wall, looked suddenly so much bigger. Slowly her optics travelled back to him again, and she smiled.
"Ah'gooood," she said, smiling slightly bigger.
"You aren't... nervious?"
"A'course Ah'am..." Firestorm considered a moment, and slowly her smile faded a little. She looked around the medbay again, with her spark-beat increasing slightly. She took a slow intake of air and smiled again. "Ah'still feel'ready'though. Ah'm uh-kay." She paused again, and laughed a little. "Ta'think I can'walk one'day like en'one else... maybe'Ah part'out da'frame fa'scrap'metal..."
"You will be stepping up your rehabilitation as I understand it?"
"Yeah... Ratchet say'd in'meetin' all'Ah migh'be missing is' strength'an 'co'or'nation soon. Tha'Ah can learn'fass'if Ah'try hard..." Firestorm paused then a second an looked up at Soundwave, who still still beside her. "Ratchet say'yu can'stay wit'mee. Yu goin'too?"
"Of course I will."
The doors far across the medbay slid open then, jamming halfway for a second before finally sliding all the way. And Firestorm felt her tank drop suddenly as they did so. She watched as Ratchet hurried into the medbay. Knockout followed close behind him on the mobility cart, sitting up better then ever, and leaning forward with obvious strength as he drove while he carried supplies in a little crate on his lap. The pair of medics were actively engaged in friendly conversation laughing when they entered the room. And they debated, it quickly seemed, over the genders of Bumblebee and Speedbreaker's soon due twin younglings – whom speedy had decided again to build frames for without learning the genders, insisting she enjoyed the surprise of not knowing, just like it had been with the first child she'd carried.
"There's no way she could have a pair of boys," Knockout said dramatically. And he waved the hand not used to drive the cart in the air so quickly he almost sent the supplies right off his knees in doing so. "She's got one already... an apartment full of them? Not a chance! And both will be yellow too. Just like their brother!"
"Remember though that femmes are still far less common among our people," Ratchet countered, chucking "You were lucky in creating one, but many bots won't... ever. Let alone a pair of them. The statistics say she's carrying males. Little orange painted ones. I'm going with that... final answer."
"We shall see my friend," Knockout replied, grinning. And Firestorm saw a second later that he was looking right at her, still grinning. "What do you think?"
"M...Mee?" Firestorm mumbled slowly. And it was, by that point, only the smiles on the medics' faceplates and the causual laughter in the room, that stopped her tank from flipping. She thought a second, glad of something to think about now. "Can'day be... mixed?" She wondered then if her question was ridiculous, and hoped it was not. But she had never known nearly enough twins to be sure.
"Mixed as in one male, one female?" Ratchet asked, confirming, and he nodded. "Well sure. It's certainly possible, because Speedy's twins are not split-sparks."
"Den'dat my geuss..." Firestorm replied slowly. "One'boy. One'girl.. orange'an'yellow..."
"You ready to do this?"Ratchet asked, his tone professional and serious now as he turned around to begin fussing with untangling the wires of a monitoring set up that had been parked behind the recharge station. But she still smiled a little in assurance as he worked.
"Yeah..." Firestorm answered, slowly. And she realized as she did, just how slow her answer was in her growing nervousness. "Ah'ready..."
"Lay back on the recharge station for me," the old medic said calmly. And his tone was just enough to keep her assured. He grabbed a extra pillow from a cabinet close by, and tossed it onto the recharge station, obviously intending to let her use it as she wished. "Because you aren't in for repairs, your body position is less important. So I'm going to let you get comfortable on there."
"Uh... kay..." Firestorm mumbled, though she did try hard to speak clearly through her fast growing nerves.
"Just a bunch of monitor wires first," Ratchet explained, still calmly. And sure enough he held a bundle of them in one hand, while quickly using the other to connect the first couple of them. Knockout worked close by, sorting out a bunch more from another machine. "You're going to connected to a good deal of machinery. Might seem a bit scary for a second, but don't panic."
"Ah'goood," Firestrom answered, mumbling more still more anxiety, But still, she managed a little smile, and saw Soundwave, still close to her, smiling back just as much as he could. He'd left his face covering off even when the medical team had come back, and that made her happy, because she knew he was at least trying his best when it came to trusting others.
Her smile faded though as she looked around the medbay yet again. And when someone switched on a bright light somewhere close to her left hand side, her fuel tank flipped and her spark dropped fast in her chamber. She found herself pulling away just a little as Ratchet tried to attach a monitoring wire to the right side of her frame somewhere. And she silently scolded herself for it, because really there was no reason at all for it.
"Firestorm – okay," said Soundwave slowly. And she knew at once that his own concern was making him edgy, just because he'd drifted quickly into formal shorthand speech again.
"Ah ra'mem'ba lass'time Ah'wass here," Firestorm admitted, however hesitantly at first. It didn't help at all that she had been put back in the same back corner as she'd been in on the day she'd been injured downtown. She understood at once that she was back there now only because of a need for the monitoring set up, but still it suddenly bothered her just to think about it.
Knockout gently grabbed her arm and holding her wrist lightly, he turned it over so her hand lay facing upward. And startled, she fought a second against an urge to pull it away, while her spark beat faster with anxiety.
"I need to connect a couple of little lines to the energon hoses in your lower arms," he explained patiently, and she watched him lean further forward on his cart, still holding her wrist carefully and more than likely inspecting it for the location of the hose beneath the armour plating. "Likely not the friendliest thing I could possibly do to you, but still hardly the worst. And we figure after talking it over a bit, that running multiple lines like this is still less traumatic than the option of a networking line close to your spark chamber."
Yeah," Firestorm mumbled, relieved.
She had been involved from the very start in just as many details of planning she possibly could have been when it came to her participation in the cybermatter trial. And of all she'd heard and been forewarned about, the possibility of a need for such a networking line was the thing that scared her the most. Still the wires attached to her frame were enough to drive up her feeling of edginess, as she looked around the medbay again quickly, fighting back memories now. And it was a struggle just to hold still and let both members of the medical team work.
"Firestorm," Ratchet's voice said to her suddenly. It sounded so far away, and she understood quickly that she'd been so busy fighting back panic, she had forgotten to even pay attention to him for a moment. "Do you think you're going to be alright?"
"A'course..." she mumbled in under a second, but her voice was slow and shaky, and she realized to hr dismay, just how horrible she sounded because of it. She also realized only then that coolant leaked from her optics in her panic by then and had gone unnoticed for long moments. That, she knew at once, was why he must have questioned her.
"We don't have to continue with this," the old bot said patiently, reminding her again that she still had control in the situation that her own processor, against her conscious will, had made her begin to believe she did not.
Firestorm almost wanted to give up in that moment. To back out and say she was sorry several times, before she hurried away to the safely of either her own room or Soundwave's. The pounding of her spark and the flipping of her tank was becoming more and more unpleasant, and her mind screamed at her to run away from the cause of it all. But she knew as well that she just couldn't. She didn't really want to run away. She only wanted to stop feeling so nervous and uneasy. Backing out now was the easy way, but the easiest thing was not always the best, and she knew that well. She reminded herself of that fact firmly, as she stared at moment at Soundwave's optics, understanding that he supported her whatever her choice now. And finally she stared, determined, at the old medic.
"Ah... Ah wan'ta go'on..." she said shakily. Because she knew so well that if she didn't, an endless number of 'what ifs' would only catch up to her someday
"It's very courageous of you to want to go ahead," Knockout said slowly. And he held her wrist gently, as she tried, instinctively, to pull it away from him. "Arm still. Very good. Remember, things are still more work for me than for some other medibot."
"You may just get sleepy from here," Ratchet said, still calmly, and she looked over at him, surprised to find that the monitor wires and lines were done entirely. The old chuckled must a little, still in obvious assurance. "Not sure if you're going to end up taking a good little nap or not. Either way, you're good."
Firestorm tired to answer – though she had no idea of what exactly she could say in any case, aside from simply more mumbles of accent. But everything began to spin so fast it took her attention off communicating entirely. The went dark as her vision faded quickly, and panic rose up through her frame, as it all spun still faster.
"Firestorm," an unfamiliar voice said, speaking to her through the darkness and panic and the spinning. The voice of whoever it was that was speaking to her, was calm and slow, a Cybertronian female, so obviously compassionate and concerned. And the young bot focuesed on it quickly, at least enough to understand that she was laying down somewhere, facedown on some smooth flat surface. Her optics were closed, and unwilling to open them yet she couldn't see a thing. But she was well aware at the very same time that someone, likely the same one that had spoken, was standing close beside her and gently rubbed a hand against the back of her shoulder panel. "Sweetspark, you're fighting hard against the process. Relax. You're okay."
"I can't... I can't move!" Firestorm cried in panic, because she realized in that second that she couldn't. The compassionate stranger just kept on doing exactly what she'd been doing, in a clear effort to calm her.
"Because you're panicking, sweetspark," she said patiently. " You need to relax, alright? It'll make it so much easier. You think you can trust me?"
"Where... where am I?" Firestorm managed to question, and she tried her best to follow the advice of the bot she still could not see. She was no longer in the medbay or anywhere on base- that much was obvious at once. Finding some courage, as the spinning slowed, once her focus was off it and on the voice instead, she dared to open her optics at least a little. And she saw a flash of dark purple paint, and shiny silver of whatever it was she was laying down on.
"It's a bit tricky to explain." the compassionate stranger said slowly. But still she sounded just as calm as ever, and the calmness of her voice let Firestorm calm down just a little more herself. "Think of it for you I suppose, as a kind of alternate reality somewhere within the collective consciousness of our world." The stranger, seen through still blurry optics as a clearly Cybertronian shaped haze of dark purple and navy blue, sat down lightly on the edge of whatever it was that Firestorm was laying on. And she contained to rub the little bot's shoulder panel gently and slowly. "How do you feel? Is it geting any better?"
"A tiny bit," Firestorm answered, considering a second and relieved to realize she was indeed able to think again. "I... I can move a little now..." and realizing that indeed she could move, though with some great difficulty, she reached out at once with an outstretched hand through the blurriness.
"This is so terrible," she continued. Though her body did relax just a little more when the compassionate stranger tightly held the hand she reached out with. "I'm so... cold. My body is in so much pain... It wasn't this way for the others..."
"They didn't resist and struggle like you are," the other bot said kindly. "No one could have told you not to because no one could have known... though I suppose it hardly would have mattered. Squeeze my hand nice and hard if you want to. And take some slow steady intakes. Remember why you wanted to do this? You wanted to make a difference... to be part of something big..."
"I feel better..." Firestorm said slowly, while she kept on intaking slowly just like she was told to. "I did want to... I... I still do..."
The strange bot chuckled just a little. "I figured so. Keep intaking sweetspark. Slowly. Slowly. Allow your body to relax. Good. Just like that."
"It... it feels warmer now," Firestorm said somehow amazed at that. And the pain that had been tearing steadily through her wiring faded away quickly until it was all but gone entirely. She felt herself smile with her usual bright grin, and she looked up into a shiny silver face-plate, that smiled right back as her vision became steadily more and more clear.
"Who are you?" she asked slowly. And daring to move far more now, she let go of the stranger's hand and rolled herself over to lay far more comfortably on her back, where she could look around her far more.
She was, she understood now, laying somewhere in the middle of a room with bright shinning silver walls all around her. And whatever surface it was she was laying on, the strange bot sure enough sat on the edge of it, still smiling. Firestrom studied the bot for a moment, noticing the bright Autobot symbol she wore on her dark blue and very purple body armour.
"My name is Shortwave," the bot said. And she still smiled brightly as she reached out one hand to place it gently on the front of Firestrom's chest panel, as the little bot tried to move far more to see more of the room. "You need to lay still now, okay."
"How... how much longer...?"
"We can't possibly know exactly. It's all still an experiment, remember. So much no one can know yet..."
"I understand," Firestorm said. She felt the stranger bot take her hand again, and she smiled a little, grateful for the comfort, while she took another slow intake and remained still as instructed. Too slowly though, her processor began to catch up to her and the name the bot had given her a moment before make her blink in disbelief.
"Shortwave?" she mumbled in shock. And a sense of hope welled up through her spark just as quickly as she tried to push it away. She blinked again at the familiarity of the darkest blue and purple colours. She noticed the bot's wings for the first time, and realized only then that this bot was clearly a flyer... And an Autobot?
"Soundwave always was the light of my life," Shortwave said smiling brighter by then. "He was the reason I lived when every other circumstance made me think of giving up on it all. Now you are his reason... I used to worry so much that he'd never find love. That he was just too different to even know how..."
"Are you really still alive?" Firestrom asked, bolder now. She had to try – had to know.
"Yes," Shortwave answered just as though it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. She smiled a moment longer, gently stopped Firestrom from moving again, and finally chuckled just a little under her intakes. Firestorm noticed for the first time then just how much her laugh sounded like Soundwave's did the few times he let her hear him laughing. "Of course I might not remember meeting you if we ever were to meet in normal reality... Consciousness is complicated."
"There's so much I need to know, because Soundwave needs to know and I need to tell him," Firestorm said, quickly. Her excitement made it hard to lay still now and she found herself lifting her hands to wave them about as she spoke, as she so often tended to do when so excited by anything. And Shortwave gently stopped her again, muttered at her just as gently to please lay still.
"How did you survive?" Firestorm asked quickly. And she noticed only then that her speaking voice sounded 'normal,' and had all along. "You're really an Autobot? Where are you? Still in space somewhere? Are you coming home?"
"Firestorm," the blue and purple flyer said firmly, instead of giving any answer at all. "It's time to wake up now, sweetspark..."
Firestorm tried for a moment to protest. To argue that she wasn't ready to wake up just yet. That although not long before she was so anxious for the entire experience to be over just as fast as possible, she felt fine now and wanted to stay for a while where she was, if only to keep on conversing with the bot she had met. But with the too familiar feeling to any bot of being yanked all to soon from recharge in the midst of a beautiful dream, waking reality came too quickly into focus again. And she found herself laying again in the medbay inside the Autobot base.
Ratchet stood close beside her, as she lay on a recharge station close to the room. And she blinked her optics at him, as he powered up a scanner, forcing herself to hold still, as he slowly scanned her and then did it again, jotting down fast notes on a data pad he held in his hand.
"Ratchet..." she mumbled at him, looking all around the medbay as well as she could from her current position. "Where... where is Soundwave?"
"For a while at first, it wasn't going well," the old medic answered, explaining slowly as he put the data pad down on a worktable behind him. He took a step then closer to her and for a moment he just looked down at her, looking her in the optics with compassion clear in his expression. And it was more than obvious he felt bad somehow. "We were maybe moments in before you started crying horribly, your body shaking, clearly in pain. And the monitors were giving us some frightening readings. Soundwave stayed a while. He kept on taking to you... thouhg I have no reason to think you could hear him by then. It got to be too much and he finally just ran for it. Firestorm, I told him not to do that. He told me he was sorry, but he just couldn't..." the old bot stood a second just shaking his head, before he went on. "It all started looking better, and I knew you'd be okay. But he wouldn't come back. A student found him on a bench in the courtyard, shocked and shaken, refusing to talk to her. I... can't say I agree with his behaviour. But I do think I understand it. I comm'd Bulkhead. Asked him to deal with this. Oddly enough, Bulk' is it seems, aside from you of course, is the bot around here who can actually reason with that fellow. He'll talk some sense into him..." He shook his head harder a second before he added, muttering, as an obvious afterthought, "or possibly knock some sense into him. Whatever the case may just be."
"It isn't Soundwave's fault..." Firestorm mumbled sleepily, meaning it entirely. And she smiled a little to show that she really did understand. She closed her optics again, tried from the medication she knew she'd been giving. But Ratchet shook her gently by the arm, forcing her awake again quickly, forcing her to focus, as he held his arms out in front of him.
"Arms up," he said gently. "Both hands out straight, just like mine."
"Well I can see quickly that the constant shaking is far better," he said when she complied, doing the very best she could despite her tiredness. "Let's try to get you sitting up for a second or two, and then you can take a little nap."
"Your seated balance is better,' the old bot commented, and Firestrom smiled just a little, glad to hear him speaking to her directly, as he had always done when so many in her life had never seemed bothered to do. "I'd like to see you stand and then walk as well, but we'll wait until later for that."
"Ratchet..." Firestorm mumbled a second later, far more interested in anything but what he was saying to her, and tring hard to keep herself fully awake while he helped her lay back down again. "Soundwave's carrier... please check the records for the Autobot side. I know you said she wouldn't be Autobot. I know. But please... what if you were wrong?"