Another Sparkling fic!
Jan. 16th, 2009 05:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceThis one is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drharper's fault. *pointy fingers* ;P
Title: Sparkling fic 2 (yeah, you can name this one too, if you want)
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing
It was a quiet day. No Decepticon activity to be concerned about, no pranks or general misbehaviour occurring in the Ark, and Wheeljack had not blown himself up. Yet. It was therefore expected that the moment he stopped to consider this rare occurrence, his quiet day ended.
//Prime! We got ‘Cons incoming, fast!//
Already, he was up and moving towards the command centre. Before he could respond to Ironhide’s warning, another comm. chimed in.
//Sir, they’re hailing us.//
Sighing, he answered Blaster as he walked into the room, his remaining officers soon joining him. “Patch them through.”
The mech nodded, and static crackled over the sound system before a voice, somewhat panicked, was heard.
//Decepticons Skywarp and Thundercracker to the Ark. We don’t want trouble. Requesting urgent medical aid. Please respond.//
Optimus caught Ratchet’s gaze and nodded. The CMO left to prep the med bay as Blaster made the reply to the seekers. “This is the Ark. Why are you approaching us for help?”
//It is an injury our medic is ill equipped to handle.//
Shuttering his optics in thought, the Prime onlined them to glance at his Second and Third. Both the tactician and head of Ops were conferring at a furious pace. Ironhide growled into the comm. set.
“And why should we swallow that pile of slag, you no good Pitspawn?”
//Please. We have critically damaged with us.//
He sighed once more, troubled by the pleading tone of the reply.
“Jazz. Prowl. Your thoughts?”
The pair straightened up from their conference, clearly mulling over the answer. Prowl walked over to the consoles, calling up what data their scanners could pull on the incoming mechs. “Neither seeker is flying in an attack pattern, and Starscream does not seem to be with them.”
At his post, Ironhide muttered, sceptical. “Could be a trick to get past our defences.”
“There is always that possibility.” Prowl agreed mildly as Jazz frowned, voicing his opinion. “They don’t sound like they’re lying, though.”
“They’re ‘Cons. They’ve had practice. And even if they’ve got injured with them, why should we be bothered? They don’t particularly care when we get slagged.”
“But they’re asking us for help. And as much as I want to check if it’s snowing in the Sahara, I’m inclined to believe them.”
Optimus cut in. “In any case, we are Autobots, and to withhold assistance when we can afford to render it is not our way. Blaster, tell them to approach and land.”
The communications mech did as told, and the relief in Skywarp’s replying comm. was plain to hear. Once the seeker terminated comms, Prowl took over, sending out a general alert to everyone in the Ark, informing them of the situation, and urging all hands to keep their guard up while the jets were in the Ark.
= = =
Ratchet shifted uneasily as they waited for Thundercracker and Skywarp to land. The whole situation was surreal and privately he wondered how it was that neither Prowl nor Red Alert had crashed yet. Both the security director and the tactician were with him, and as the seekers touched down, Skywarp transforming as he did so, they flanked him as he strode forward to the pair of fliers.
“Well? Are you stuck like this or what?” He snapped at Thundercracker, still in his jet mode. Skywarp insinuated himself between the medic and his wingmate.
“No sir, but…” The blue jet’s cockpit hissed open, and the teleporter reached in, gingerly lifting a small, heavily damaged form out. Optics widened as the seeker cradled the tiny chassis close, directing a pleading gaze towards the Autobots.
Immediately, Ratchet latched onto a purple arm, and dragged Skywarp into the Ark and his med bay, rapidly barking orders into his comm. Red Alert went with them, visibly biting back the urge to slap an inhibitor claw on the seeker. Prowl turned to Thundercracker, who was finally shifting into mech form.
“How did you come by a sparkling, and so badly injured? And where is your trine leader?”
The jet shuddered, optics never leaving the direction his wingmate had gone. “The sparkling is Starscream. Something… exploded and he got caught in it.”
Prowl just stared at him.
“Look, I don’t believe it either, but that is Starscream. My spark knows him, no matter what he looks like.
“Very well. You are uninjured?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. So’s ‘Warp. S’just Starscream that’s-” He fell silent, and Prowl took pity on the flier.
“Follow me. You would probably prefer to wait in the med bay.” The Datsun smiled, faintly, and spoke to reassure the jet. “Ratchet doesn’t allow faction to interfere with his medical oaths. He will do all he can for Starscream.”
Thundercracker sagged slightly in relief, softly murmuring his thanks.
= = =
In the med bay, the scene was one of chaos. Ratchet worked frantically to stabilise the sparkling, and on the repair berth, Sparkplug, Spike and Carly were assisting him while First Aid dashed about fetching and carrying as needed. Thundercracker started at the humans’ presence, but Skywarp calmed him down with a hand to his suddenly tense wings.
“They’re smaller, and can get to the delicate systems without the medic having to take Starscream apart. It’s quicker, and puts less stress on his spark.” The blue jet nodded, reaching for his wingmate, the mutual contact comforting them both. Prowl herded the pair to the side of the room, where Red Alert was waiting with Wheeljack.
“We’re going to have to deactivate your weapons and such. Standard procedure.”
“We understand.”
“Do you consent to being tracked?”
“As longs as we can stay with Starscream, we’ll agree to anything. Swear on our sparks.”
Red Alert huffed as he fixed the transmitters, threat analysis programming still running at high alert. Weapons and transformation systems were taken offline by Wheeljack, and inhibitor devices installed. The engineer talked as he worked, his head fins flashing cheerily as he attempted to distract the jets from their fretting.
“Hey, Ratch’s the best medic I know, and Sparkplug, Spike and Carly aren’t too bad either. Starscream’s chances are good. Now, what can you tell me about how he ended up like this?”
The fliers shifted, glancing at each other uncertainly. Thundercracker spoke first.
“We’re… not too sure. There was a loud blast, and we felt him in pain. When we got to his lab, he was… like that. His systems were failing, Primus, I could see his spark… We flew here as fast as we could.”
Skywarp continued. “We didn’t take note of much else. We were afraid he wouldn’t survive to make it here.”
“But why come to us in the first place?”
“You were our only hope. Soundwave’s the only one with any experience with frames that small. But he was away from the base, and wouldn’t have made it back in time to help us.”
The security mech sighed. “I’m going to make my report to Prime. You two are not to leave the med bay. So don’t do anything to get yourselves thrown out by Ratchet, unless you want to spend the rest of your time here in the brig.”
Both jets nodded obediently, flinching slightly as Ratchet glared at in their direction at the mention of his name.
“Yessir.”
drharper's fault. *pointy fingers* ;P Title: Sparkling fic 2 (yeah, you can name this one too, if you want)
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing
It was a quiet day. No Decepticon activity to be concerned about, no pranks or general misbehaviour occurring in the Ark, and Wheeljack had not blown himself up. Yet. It was therefore expected that the moment he stopped to consider this rare occurrence, his quiet day ended.
//Prime! We got ‘Cons incoming, fast!//
Already, he was up and moving towards the command centre. Before he could respond to Ironhide’s warning, another comm. chimed in.
//Sir, they’re hailing us.//
Sighing, he answered Blaster as he walked into the room, his remaining officers soon joining him. “Patch them through.”
The mech nodded, and static crackled over the sound system before a voice, somewhat panicked, was heard.
//Decepticons Skywarp and Thundercracker to the Ark. We don’t want trouble. Requesting urgent medical aid. Please respond.//
Optimus caught Ratchet’s gaze and nodded. The CMO left to prep the med bay as Blaster made the reply to the seekers. “This is the Ark. Why are you approaching us for help?”
//It is an injury our medic is ill equipped to handle.//
Shuttering his optics in thought, the Prime onlined them to glance at his Second and Third. Both the tactician and head of Ops were conferring at a furious pace. Ironhide growled into the comm. set.
“And why should we swallow that pile of slag, you no good Pitspawn?”
//Please. We have critically damaged with us.//
He sighed once more, troubled by the pleading tone of the reply.
“Jazz. Prowl. Your thoughts?”
The pair straightened up from their conference, clearly mulling over the answer. Prowl walked over to the consoles, calling up what data their scanners could pull on the incoming mechs. “Neither seeker is flying in an attack pattern, and Starscream does not seem to be with them.”
At his post, Ironhide muttered, sceptical. “Could be a trick to get past our defences.”
“There is always that possibility.” Prowl agreed mildly as Jazz frowned, voicing his opinion. “They don’t sound like they’re lying, though.”
“They’re ‘Cons. They’ve had practice. And even if they’ve got injured with them, why should we be bothered? They don’t particularly care when we get slagged.”
“But they’re asking us for help. And as much as I want to check if it’s snowing in the Sahara, I’m inclined to believe them.”
Optimus cut in. “In any case, we are Autobots, and to withhold assistance when we can afford to render it is not our way. Blaster, tell them to approach and land.”
The communications mech did as told, and the relief in Skywarp’s replying comm. was plain to hear. Once the seeker terminated comms, Prowl took over, sending out a general alert to everyone in the Ark, informing them of the situation, and urging all hands to keep their guard up while the jets were in the Ark.
= = =
Ratchet shifted uneasily as they waited for Thundercracker and Skywarp to land. The whole situation was surreal and privately he wondered how it was that neither Prowl nor Red Alert had crashed yet. Both the security director and the tactician were with him, and as the seekers touched down, Skywarp transforming as he did so, they flanked him as he strode forward to the pair of fliers.
“Well? Are you stuck like this or what?” He snapped at Thundercracker, still in his jet mode. Skywarp insinuated himself between the medic and his wingmate.
“No sir, but…” The blue jet’s cockpit hissed open, and the teleporter reached in, gingerly lifting a small, heavily damaged form out. Optics widened as the seeker cradled the tiny chassis close, directing a pleading gaze towards the Autobots.
Immediately, Ratchet latched onto a purple arm, and dragged Skywarp into the Ark and his med bay, rapidly barking orders into his comm. Red Alert went with them, visibly biting back the urge to slap an inhibitor claw on the seeker. Prowl turned to Thundercracker, who was finally shifting into mech form.
“How did you come by a sparkling, and so badly injured? And where is your trine leader?”
The jet shuddered, optics never leaving the direction his wingmate had gone. “The sparkling is Starscream. Something… exploded and he got caught in it.”
Prowl just stared at him.
“Look, I don’t believe it either, but that is Starscream. My spark knows him, no matter what he looks like.
“Very well. You are uninjured?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. So’s ‘Warp. S’just Starscream that’s-” He fell silent, and Prowl took pity on the flier.
“Follow me. You would probably prefer to wait in the med bay.” The Datsun smiled, faintly, and spoke to reassure the jet. “Ratchet doesn’t allow faction to interfere with his medical oaths. He will do all he can for Starscream.”
Thundercracker sagged slightly in relief, softly murmuring his thanks.
= = =
In the med bay, the scene was one of chaos. Ratchet worked frantically to stabilise the sparkling, and on the repair berth, Sparkplug, Spike and Carly were assisting him while First Aid dashed about fetching and carrying as needed. Thundercracker started at the humans’ presence, but Skywarp calmed him down with a hand to his suddenly tense wings.
“They’re smaller, and can get to the delicate systems without the medic having to take Starscream apart. It’s quicker, and puts less stress on his spark.” The blue jet nodded, reaching for his wingmate, the mutual contact comforting them both. Prowl herded the pair to the side of the room, where Red Alert was waiting with Wheeljack.
“We’re going to have to deactivate your weapons and such. Standard procedure.”
“We understand.”
“Do you consent to being tracked?”
“As longs as we can stay with Starscream, we’ll agree to anything. Swear on our sparks.”
Red Alert huffed as he fixed the transmitters, threat analysis programming still running at high alert. Weapons and transformation systems were taken offline by Wheeljack, and inhibitor devices installed. The engineer talked as he worked, his head fins flashing cheerily as he attempted to distract the jets from their fretting.
“Hey, Ratch’s the best medic I know, and Sparkplug, Spike and Carly aren’t too bad either. Starscream’s chances are good. Now, what can you tell me about how he ended up like this?”
The fliers shifted, glancing at each other uncertainly. Thundercracker spoke first.
“We’re… not too sure. There was a loud blast, and we felt him in pain. When we got to his lab, he was… like that. His systems were failing, Primus, I could see his spark… We flew here as fast as we could.”
Skywarp continued. “We didn’t take note of much else. We were afraid he wouldn’t survive to make it here.”
“But why come to us in the first place?”
“You were our only hope. Soundwave’s the only one with any experience with frames that small. But he was away from the base, and wouldn’t have made it back in time to help us.”
The security mech sighed. “I’m going to make my report to Prime. You two are not to leave the med bay. So don’t do anything to get yourselves thrown out by Ratchet, unless you want to spend the rest of your time here in the brig.”
Both jets nodded obediently, flinching slightly as Ratchet glared at in their direction at the mention of his name.
“Yessir.”
