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Two months later.....
For what felt the millionth and certainly not last time, Catherine was beginning to regret having made Teletraan. She loved him, really she did, but she detested the damned sound of his blaring alarm. She had been having a wonderful little dream about some Cybertronian’s memories, as she had for the past week, and then bam—she was jerked awake because the little guy was trying to blow out her ear drums. If there was any good news, it was that it was Sunday, which meant she would get to work with Ratchet instead of Lennox or Marissa.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like working with them, because she did—in a way. But her exercises with Ratchet were more exciting, intriguing, and in tune with what she was positive was her true calling. Sure, the constant workout had already made her so much stronger in almost two months’ time, and all the work with her liaison-teacher had done wonders for her people skills and knowledge, but she was by far more interested and happy with her progress with her powers, although it wasn’t much.
“I’m up! I’m up!” she growled, waving the little drone off as she slid out, pushing her wild hair back down. He silenced his alarm, but scurried after her into the bathroom to make sure she went through her daily routine. He even put a timer on his chest screen, letting her know she had thirty minutes to get to training. While it was her day to work with Ratchet, Lennox stressed she had to work out every day. That was fine, and she understood, but she sometimes really wished she could have a night schedule like some of the other soldiers instead of five-thirty in the morning. She took relief knowing that, unlike normal bases, she didn’t have to deal with the lining up thing in the morning. Lennox had told her there just wasn’t time, and the schedule at NEST was made so that someone was always working, so it would conflict with everything.
Ugh. Just get dressed and get going. You’ll be in the Medbay soon, she rumbled silently, slipping on her workout gear after she’d tied back her hair and brushed her teeth. Waving goodbye to Teletraan, she hurried off, no longer needing the aid of Lennox or an escort to get around. She passed by a few of the Autobots and waved to them too, having gotten to know them already. Some she was still working on in regards to smaller details like their likes or dislikes, but she at least knew all of their names. They were all fairly decent so far.
She waved to any humans she passed by, too, having become friends with a good amount of those that had the same shifts as she did. They were all pretty nice, although some she'd noticed weren’t exactly thrilled about her being there. It was generally in just the way they would occasionally glance at her or the snarky comment played off as witty remarks, but she’d figured it out. Thankfully, there was only a few, and she made sure to act civil around them and make friends with as many people other than her group as possible. She had quite a few names down, and was getting to learn more about them. It helped that Marissa drilled her nearly every lesson, forcing her to make sure she got to know them.
If there was anything good about it besides having possible allies in a conflict, it gave her workout buddies in the training room. It was nice to have some small talk when jogging or lifting weight and it also helped her learn about more of the soldiers. Breakfast was a good place for that as well, and she often found herself sitting with people other than her group more than once. That had gotten her a few mock-jealous comments from her companions, but it was all in good jest, and they still had her back on their training days.
Regardless, she was also happy to finally make her way back to her room, clean up, pick up Teletraan, and head down to the Medbay. Again, she ended up waving at the Autobots she passed by. Now that all the new teams were back, it was almost impossible to not encounter one of them. She used to always catch them by surprise, but they had learned very quickly to watch where they put their feet after Ratchet had nearly blown out their audios for almost stepping on her once. By the way Jazz had been scowling that day, she was glad it was the medic who had found them and not her guardian. She didn’t think they’d still be in once piece.
“Mornin’, Catherine!” one of them called out happily.
“Good Morning, Knock Out,” she smiled back, recognizing the small, lime-green-armored Autobot. He beamed at her acknowledgement and smirked at the blue-armored mech next to him that she knew was Gears. The mech merely rolled his optics at his younger companion, whom was all too happy to prove how more well liked he thought he was. It hadn’t taken long for her to find out that Knock Out was one hell of a show-off. He was especially bad when he was paired with the Triplets—Arcee, Elita-1, and Chromia—who all shared the similar alternate form of a motorcycle. He couldn’t compare, but he would never admit it and always tried to outdo them. She pitied him a little with how desperate for attention he acted sometimes, but she also thought he was being kind of cute, too; acting like a little kid wanting praise from the adults.
Gears, on the other hand, was content with his place, which was complaining about it. She had first thought he really was unhappy, which had made her think he was a little annoying, but Jazz informed her on the side that he complained all the time because everyone thought it was funny, and, in a way, it was. The short, but stocky blue-armored mech was a damned fine comedian when it came to complaining. He was a nice guy, too, and polite when he wanted to be. He’d also somehow ended up Knock Out’s “best friend”. While he told everyone it was because he’d accidentally praised the kid too much, Catherine had a feeling it was because the much smaller motorcycle mech was comedy material gold.
She shook her head with a smile as she heard the younger mech spout some great deed to Gears, and continued on. She knew the way by heart now, and also where every mech’s room was. For instance, she knew Evac’s was to her right just around the corner. He was always in the room closest to the humans’ side due ton his concern with the safety of the soldiers to the point it was unhealthy. He'd actually gotten so bad he caused some problems when he’d suddenly bolted—as in, he flew through the halls in his helicopter form—to “save” some humans from their training session. He was quickly told what was going on, and there hadn’t been an incident since. He was a little overly friendly at times, but he was alright.
“Okay… Almost there… Just don’t encounter anymore Autobots, especially the Twins and you’ll be okay,” she mumbled to herself as she increased her pace.
For whatever God-forsaken reason, the Twins had been given shit-for-brains and were now seemingly infatuated with her or something, and were always trying to hang out with her or just be around her in order to talk with their stupid accent and try to impress her. It. Was. Ridiculous. And annoying. She couldn’t even count the number of time she had to get Jazz, Ratchet, or Sideswipe to come rescue her from them because they wouldn’t leave her alone! They sometimes even followed her over to the human side, freaking out most of the soldiers and making life much harder for her. Thankfully, Prime had put a stop to that, but now they’d doubled their efforts to hang out with their “girl”—she hated when they called her that—when she was on the Autobot side.
Thankfully, this Sunday she was not going to be bothered by the infernal, rusty-colored Twins, and she made it to the Med Bay doors without trouble. Since the Autobots used the hanger rooms now, it was basically humanly impossible to open the doors except, so Ratchet had kindly made it so that the door was always opened a little. It allowed her to slip in quietly while the medic and his aid, Jolt, ran scans on the Triplets. She was pretty sure Jolt has already noticed her, as his sensors were much better at detection, but the electric-blue-armored mech didn’t lift his head to look in her direction while he scanned the teal form of Chromia. Ratchet was busy with the pink one, Arcee, but Elita-1 was free, her purple frame balancing smoothly on her one wheel so the redhead made her way over and stood beside the “Femme”—the Cybertronian term for her type.
“Today was your daily check-up, huh?” she asked, and the Autobot—only about twice her size as compared to the towering figures of “Mechs” besides the occasional exception—glanced down at her, blue optics bright.
“Yes, but we’re almost done,” Elita-1 nodded. “He’s still upset over our accident in the training room.”
“Ah. Well, you guys did mess up some of your wires, right?”
Ratchet answered for her gruffly, “And nearly blew their leg unit off, too! You’re lucky you’re Femmes and have an enhanced healing system or you wouldn’t be leaving here so soon!”
“We said we were sorry, Ratchet,” Arcee sighed, but then shrunk a little when the medic’s hard gaze fell on her. She was the boldest of the three, though knew when to back down. It woudln't keep her from doing it again later, but, although it made her rash, it also made her fearless. She wasn’t even afraid to go up against Ironhide or Prime alone. Ratchet was another story, of course, as no one could brave his wrath. She was also seemingly the youngest and easiest to get along with. It was kind of like the sister she never had; only there were two other versions that came with her.
“If you mean it, then you’ll do us both a favor and not use maximum power on your cannons,” Jolt stated quickly, no doubt to keep his mentor from shouting something crude. “That means you especially, Chromia.”
His teal-armored patient grinned, and Catherine could see why she and Ironhide got along well. Very well, according to rumors. Apparently some “things” were going on between the two of them, but they were very discreet and only ever seemed to be training or occasionally talking with each other. Granted, both of them had night duty together and Catherin was asleep then, so she couldn’t be sure, and the other bots were tight-lipped about it.
“We’ll do our best,” Elita-1 replied, the most sensible of the three. Unlike her sisters, she was not prone to over-excessive force and was always able to keep her calm. She was considered the level-headed one of the bunch, and she fit her role well. It was namely her actions or words that kept Chromia from blowing the whole base to smithereens, and held Arcee back when she wanted to rush in too blindly. Obviously, that made her the leader, and, as if cementing the idea, Catherine had caught her and Optimus speaking together in a not-so-formal way more than once.
“Slagging right you will. I don’t want to see you in here unless it’s because of a Decepticon attack, you hear me?” Ratchet growled, jabbing a finger at all three of them now that he was done scanning.
“Roger,” they replied in unison, and Arcee and Chromia hopped down to join their third member. Both of them smiled down kindly at Catherine, touching her shoulders gently, and then rolled out the door. She smiled after them, but turned back to the two medics once they were gone. Jolt was nearest and so lowered his hand to her. Like always, he was gentle and careful as he lifted and set her onto one of the tables. It was kind of ironic how careful he was with her, when he was really a bit of prankster and a dangerous fighter. She’d heard many tales of his tricks on the younger mechs or those around his age. Thankfully, it was always outside the Medical Bay, and she suspected it was due to the demanding tutelage of Ratchet. Of course, that just made her wonder how the hell a prankster that fought like a crazed Mech in battle would take up repair work. Luckily, he was happy to tell her it was because his electrical abilities suited the profession and he figured the Autobots could use more medics. Apparently that was good enough, and he was doing a good job. Even Ratchet had secretly admitted as such to her secretly.
“Alright, so did you guys finish making that thing you were talking about?” she asked, clapping her hand together expectantly.
“Just yesterday in fact. Go grab it, will you, Jolt?” Ratchet nodded, gesturing at his assistant without looking. The electric-blue mech merely grunted and moved off to the side, rummaging through a pile of various items.
“How are my little guys by the way? Not causing you any trouble?” she inquired, glancing around for the “little guys” in question.
“They were getting mischievous, so I had them placed in a container. Thankfully they’re not smart enough to figure out how to get out,” the medic hummed, his optics glanced over to one of the large closet-like structures in the room. Catherine followed his gaze, balked, and smacked her palm to her face.
“You locked them up in the closet?! Ratchet! What the hell?” she growled, placing her hands angrily on her hips. “I know they’re not as good tempered as Teletraan, but that’s no reason to lock them up! You just have to discipline them! That’s what I do and they listen to me!”
“You are also their creator,” the mech snorted back as Jolt returned and placed the “thing” she had asked about near her. “They are already inclined to obey your commands.”
“Ugh! You’re just a grump! Jolt, please let them out,” she sighed, rubbing her brow. The mech glanced at his mentor, whom nodded begrudgingly, and he moseyed over to the closet. He opened the door and lifted out a container holding two little Cybertronian drones scurrying around inside. The container was soon by Catherine’s side, whom opened it and gladly accepted the drones into her arms.
Like Teletraan, they had limited intelligence, were more like pets, and had been made from her electronic devices. The first had been her PlayStation Portable, whom she named Blaster since the first thing he did was blast music at them. He was actually bit more intelligent than the others; able to perceive their language to a higher degree and form sentences by using the music she had on him before the change. The second was her Gameboy, which was about the same size as Teletraan, but not as smart. She’d ended up naming him Cybermon in regards to the Pokémon game she’d left in him and had become his form of mostly incomprehensible communication. Like their eldest “brother”—she liked to consider them related—they didn’t have true sparks, which was what had brought the two medics to building the machine beside her.
“Now that my little boys are liberated,” Catherine began, spinning around to face the box-shaped machine, “what’s this contraption supposed to do?”
“Well, since we want actual Cybertronians rather than your little glitches running around everywhere, we need to make sure you can make a real spark,” Ratchet explained, ignoring the glare the redhead gave him. “This box here will absorb the Allspark energy you put into it, but instead of becoming a drone, it will retain the energy, forming it into a spark. We used to have many of these on Cybertron in the Hatchling facilities for when we didn’t have an Energon sack yet ready to house and form a frame around it. It keeps the sparks intact and safe until they’re transferred. Granted, it’s not up to Cybertronian standards, but it should work just fine.”
“Nice. So do I just touch it like I’ve been doing, or…?”
The medic nodded, “Yes. It’s the same process; you’re just only making a spark. If you’re both ready… Jolt, prepare your whips.”
The electric-blue mech stepped forward, shifting his left arm’s armor to reveal the whip hidden underneath. He wrapped it around his arm so it didn’t hit the floor and leaned it towards her. He was thankfully immune to his electrical powers, so he had no problems activating the electrical pulses that lit his arm up. She’s been a little put off when she first tried to use it—in part because it was Autobot-generated electricity and because she’d been worried about what taking the energy from him might do. However, Ratchet’s assurance and actually going through the process without any side effects helped, and made her confident as she set the two drones down before reaching out and grasping the whip.
Energy coursed through her at once, filling her with power and slowly heating her up. It was a familiar process she had done every Sunday for the past two months, and, just as she was reaching her limit, she let go. Her body was lit with the bright, blue light of Energon-infused blood in her veins, and her irises were nearly blue-white due to the influx of energy needing to be released. She wasn’t going to deny it, and so pressed her hands onto the box, urging the energy into it. Sparks flared from her body, latching onto the device, and she could feel it flooding into the contraption.
She watched as the energy began to pool into the center, forming a sphere of pure, white light. It was small, at first, but as more energy was pushed into it, the larger it became. It flickered and shook as it grew, verging on instability. However, as the last of the energy left her, and the sphere stopped growing, it became stable. The glow in her veins faded, and she gazed curiously at the now blue-white orb in the box. She’d only ever seen sparks in the chest of her Cybertronian companions, never fully exposed, but with the box she could see it thrumming with energy. Though it had no mind or body to accompany it, she could feel the spark—could sense it reaching out to her.
“Alright, let’s see if it’s any different,” Ratchet hummed, no longer fazed by her powers, and ran a green light over it. Jolt was not quite as stolid, still getting used to the fact she—a mere human being—was now the remnants of their Allspark and could create smaller and far less intelligent forms of their kind. He was doing much better, though, and hadn’t said a word or acted odd around her at all. She knew it was in part Ratchet’s doing, but she had a feeling he understood the situation very well and that having her secret readily known was a bad thing.
The medic sighed, “It’s still wrong. Since it’s not supporting a body it’s able to retain a large size, but the waves are still off. They’re random like before, and don’t show any proper characteristics. That makes the fourth one…”
“What could be wrong?” Jolt inquired, looking over the information on his own data screen once his mentor had sent it to him. “The original Allspark could make a spark without issue and it wasn’t a sentient being.”
“Maybe that’s the reason,” Catherine frowned, reaching out to touch the surface of the box. “From what you’ve told me, the Allspark seems like it was already programmed to make right sparks. I’m not. Hell, I’m still learning about how you guys work!”
Ratchet’s optics flared a little, “That… just might be it… Perhaps it’s random…”
“Because she doesn’t know the makeup of a proper spark?” Jolt finished, and his mentor nodded.
“Well, then how am I supposed to learn? Don’t suppose you’ve got a diagram or something?”
“All my datapads were left on Cybertron, but it will be easy enough to build a makeshift one,” Ratchet mused, shuffling over to one of his work benches.
“Want to save the spark?” Jolt asked, but his mentor shook his head.
“Even if we did have the proper tools for making hatchlings, the spark wouldn’t work. It might, at best, support a larger drone—perhaps close to the size of the Triplets—but still a drone. Just release the energy.”
Jolt nodded and, with an ease that unsettled Catherine, he opened the box, allowing the blue spark to suddenly begin flickering again. It was an odd and uncomfortable for her to watch it dissipate into the air—like she watching something die. She could sense it; feel it on her skin. Ratchet’s logic was sound and the spark was a failure, but it didn’t override the sadness overcoming her. Not even knowing it was her Allspark side could quell the overwhelming sensation. It only lasted as long as the spark remained, however, and once all of it vanished into the air, she was at peace once more.
“So is that what happens to uncontained sparks?” she asked, and Jolt turned to her, his expression suddenly softening. Whether he understood how she had felt, she didn’t know, but he was kind in how he spoke.
“Yes. If a spark is not placed within a container like this one or a hatchling sack, then it would dissipate as Energon into the air.”
“So were a lot of potential lives lost then?”
He tilted his head thoughtfully, “Well, in a way, I suppose, but not quite. Sparks are just our template and energy source. A good example for you would be to call it a battery; the size and amount of energy dictates what kind of frame it can handle. All in all, it’s just a compilation of energy. Only when it’s reacted with Energon does a hatchling begin to form.”
“I see,” she hummed, though wasn’t quite convinced. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was wrong. And when she looked to her two newest creations, the notion only became stronger. Looking at them also brought a thought to mind. “Wait—if it required Energon to make hatchlings, then how are these guys alive? I know they’re just drones…”
“Well, it’s never been seen or officially recorded, but there were legends of the Allspark creating full Cybertronians—spark, body, mind, and all—instead of just sparks. No one knows the full depth of the Allspark’s power, so it’s possible you’ve awakened its ability to do so, albeit on a much smaller scale.”
“It should also be known those legends predate back to the era of the Primes, when the Allspark was at its greatest. In our age it was much weaker and had less energy, which was likely the reason for it only giving sparks,” Ratchet added, returning to them.
“What are the other reasons?” Catherine asked, and the two mechs glanced at one another.
“Well,” the head medic began, “it was often rumored that the Allspark was, well, sentient in its own way, but there’s never been any proof and it’s always been considered a silly thought.”
“But wasn’t it Sentinel Prime who suggested that?” Jolt asked, and the medic frowned.
“Yes, I was there when he told us. A shame you weren’t created before his death.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait guys—who is Sentinel Prime and why does he have the same last name part as Optimus?”
“Ah, you must have forgotten from when Optimus told you, but it has been some time,” Ratchet mused. “Sentinel, like Optimus, is of the lineage of Primes. He was our leader in the time when we were a race of tribes. It was Sentinel who found the Allspark. No one knows how he knew where it was—just that he did. He always seemed to understand it so well; like he had some connection with it. He was wise in many other things, of course, but the Allspark especially. If only he were still with us…”
“How did he die?”
“He was attempting to put an end to the war in our favor when his ship was attacked by Decepticons and destroyed.”
“That’s terrible,” she frowned, and both Autobots looked down solemnly. It came more strongly from Ratchet, obviously having known the great mech. She did finally remember Optimus talking about him back at the Sector-Seven base, and she could recall the deep sadness he gave off when he spoke of his mentor. However, like their Commander, both Autobots were quick to withdraw their emotions and recover. Ratchet did so by setting a rectangular device reminding her of a large tablet on the table and pressing a button near the center of the bottom.
Catherine’s eyes widened as a hologram of all things popped up, and in the spherical shape of a spark no less. It even rotated, giving a three-sixty view of the object. She marveled and reached out to touch it, but her fingers passed through. She could feel heat on her hand though, coming from the light the device gave off.
“Your technology is still very primitive, so it’s not at Cybertronian standards, but it will do. If only I’d been able to bring the datapads from my Medical Bay on Cybertron then you’d be able to better interact with it,” the medic huffed.
“No, this is fine. I think. It’s incredibly detailed, though I don’t really understand it,” Catherine hummed, trailing a hand along one of the specific wavelengths. Now that they were blown up to large size, she could see the individual lines—the wavelengths—that made up the spark. It reminded her a little of the steams of binary code from the Matrix, only blue, made of energy, and running around a sphere rather than straight up and down.
“As you can see,” Ratchet began, pointing at the same line she’d touched, “it’s as I’ve said before: Sparks have wavelengths made from energy. We call it Energon, although a different kind than what we consume. The wavelengths are like your DNA—they have a code that the Energon sacs react to and began to form a frame in accordance to that code. All sparks follow a similar pattern in their code placement, although the codes are all different. For instance, this wavelength I’m pointing to is the one for central processer potential. This one beneath it is for frame size, and this one for armor strength.”
“I… I think I get it,” she replied slowly, trying to imagine it in her head. “So, you’re positive all sparks have wavelengths in these positions?”
“Affirmative. All normal, healthy sparks, at least. Cybertronians that were flawed would have misplaced wavelengths, much like in the case of your drones. Their wavelengths are all over the place with only some of them in the right spots, which led to their small intelligence, size, and capabilities.”
“Okay… Um… I’m going to look over this a lot more and then we can try again. Sound good?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the spark.
“That works fine. We need to prepare our weekly report, anyways, so take your time, and—Oh slaggit all! Those damned creations of yours are at it again!” the medic howled, jabbing a finger at the two small drones quietly slinking towards the medical machine at the end of the table.
Catherine sighed as she turned and set her hands onto her hips, “Cybermon! Blaster! What the hell do you think you’re doing!”
Both drones immediately froze and turned back towards her, their heads low. She gave an “mmhmm” sound, and they slowly, but obediently, sulked back, their mischievous curiosity put to an end. Ratchet, the danger passed, turned away with a grumble and then called for Jolt to follow. The electric-blue mech spared the drones a glance and a grin before following after his mentor, leaving the redhead to tend to her creations and studies.
“C’mon, guys—you know better! No messing with Ratchet’s things! It’s what you got in the Closet in the first place!” she scolded. “I know you want to be with me and Teletraan, but you escaped last time and nearly got caught, so you have to stay here for your own safety. Now please behave while I study the sparks, okay?”
Cybermon made a Pokémon sound, while Blaster gave a sad “yes” from some random song, and she knew they would behave. They were very upset, though, so she let them climb up to her shoulders to cheer them up. It worked, the two drones scurrying up to grasp at her NEST gear and content to lay there as she watched the spark hologram rotate, tracing every wavelength she could see. She had to wonder how she would force her powers to work right. Did she simply have to think about it, or did it require something more? She remembered when she’d healed Bumblebee she had based it on her thoughts, so perhaps that was the way to do it, but, then again, this was different. With Bumblebee she hadn’t even seen the inside and yet the sparks from her body had done everything, but when she tried to think of a spark, it just didn’t work. She had made a spark before with Jazz, though, so what was wrong?
Ugh. I bet Jazz could help if he was here, she sighed, tracing another wavelength. Unfortunately, the white mech had left last week on a reconnaissance mission to the United States after NEST had been contacted about possible activity. He hadn’t gone alone, and it so happened that Sideswipe and Ironhide were his partners. Evidently the situation was possibly dangerous enough to call for their hard hitters and taking away her two favorite mechs. Sure, she’d found companionship with the other Autobots and her human friends, but she did miss those particular three. At least it would only be for a few more days.
There was no point in wishing things had been different, though, and she knew she’d have to get on without him for now. Not that he would even tell her anyways. He was always so cryptic when it came to these things, and while she trusted him when he said he did so for a reason, she wished he would at least give her a hint or something!
“Well, I think I’ve got it. Guess we should see what I can do then,” she spoke softly to her two creations, which made their own comforting sound for her as she set them down. “Ratchet! Jolt! Let’s try round two!”
Teacher and student turned from their counting, then put down another one of their makeshift datapads and walked over. Jolt was already ready, his whip still out from before, and so he held out his arm. The whip burst to life and she touched it, the energy filling her just like before. She absorbed a bit more this time, though, and winced a little as the heat seared against her insides. She knew she would be alright—while her powers had caused the burn, it would also heal it once she released the heat. She kept the pain away from her mind as she reached out to the box, focusing it on the image of the spark. She thought of each and every wavelength; where they were placed; how they flowed. She knew she had it perfectly in her mind, and so let loose the energy within her.
The process was done in seconds and in the box was another thrumming spark. Again she felt it seemed to be reaching out to her, but she stopped the sensation instead of letting it go on this time. Ratchet scanned it, but, despite her high hopes, he shook his head.
“What? Are you kidding me?” she shouted, raising her arms up high and then sagging down. “I swear I had it! It was in my mind and everything! What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, if it helps, it’s much closer than the one before, but it’s still not quite right. The wavelengths aren’t aligned right. Everything is there, though…”
“God dammit…” she scowled, running a hand through her hair.
“Don’t worry, Catherine. You are getting much better,” Jolt spoke, smiling gently, and she did smile back, although it wasn’t fully there. “Maybe we just need to look back on what you’ve done before. You’ve made a spark once before after all.”
“Yeah, but like I’ve said before, I don’t really know how it happened. It just… I just somehow knew how to do it and it happened.”
“I’m not surprised. You were in a transe-like state. You didn’t even realize you were sucking Energon from me,” Ratchet scoffed, still a little sore about it. However, instead of continuing on with his usual reminder rant, he stopped. Both human and Autobot watched as the medic’s processor began to run a million miles a second with revelation. Soon he was tapping his chin, his optics growing wider as he thought. Jolt and Catherine shared a look, still waiting for what he had in mind. They would have to wait a little longer, as the medic brought up the data screen on his arm and ran through list after list until he found the right one. Then he stared at it long and hard, searching for something. When he at last found it, his optics brightened more and he turned to them with purpose.
“It wasn’t just my stores you took from,” he began, his words quick at first, but then he settled down as they gave him confused looks. “Back then, when you took Energon from me to revive Jazz, it wasn’t just from the Energon stores we have in our bodies. I didn’t realize it because it wasn’t noteworthy, but you took from my spark, too. It’s just a theory—a very theoretical one, at that—but perhaps you need to touch or borrow from one of us to make a new, true spark.”
“It could be,” Jolt added, his processor moving fast, as well. “Every time she’s made a spark, she’s only used electricity from a generator or from my whips. Though, how much did she exactly take? And how you were you not affected?”
“The wavelength of a spark can’t be changed by means of energy loss once its set. It would take a virus of some sorts to do so. Otherwise, energy drain merely lowers the support capabilities. It’s why we have to refuel on Energon. It allows our sparks to continue supporting our frames.”
“Guys, wait—are you saying if I ‘borrow’ from one of your sparks, I can make a genuine Cybertronian spark?” Catherine asked, hope growing.
Ratchet nodded, “I believe so, yes. I think, you need to borrow the information from an existing spark, and then your powers must be editing the code, as Jazz has shown no changes. Of course, his code would have remained within the making of his frame, so the spark could have pulled from that.”
“Is… Should we… Should we try it? I mean, I’ve borrowed energy from sparks before. I remember when I did so from Jazz…”
“I think we should give it a try, Ratchet. We’re already so close, and no repercussions have been suffered, right?” Jolt asked, and the medic nodded.
“Yes. If you’re up to it Catherine, you’ll borrow from mine.”
The redhead nodded, “I am.”
“Very well. Jolt; let her take most of the energy from you first. Afterwrad be alert and watch for anything. Nothing should go wrong, but I want you ready when she touches my spark.”
The electric-blue mech nodded and activated his whips. Catherine touched them again and let the energy fill her, pulling away when she felt she had enough. Then it was Ratchet’s turn, and he pressed as close as possible to the table, lowering his chest to her. The bumper of his alternate form shifted and moved, revealing a circular opening lit with a blue glow. She recognized it as the spark box and the glow as his spark. Already she could feel the Energon coming from it and could feel the emotions tied to it. Despite his confident claims, she could sense he was a little nervous, and so was she. Still, they had come this far, and couldn’t back down now. Sharing a quick look with the medic, she reached out and touched the outer edge of it.
Unlike with Jazz, she felt no energy moving into her, and she knew it was because she had not willed it. She could, however, feel his thoughts and emotions more clearly, and could see his memories in her mind’s eye. They went by too fast to focus upon, and she pushed them aside for what she really wanted—the information to create a true spark. And she found it, or, she was pretty sure she had. It felt like she did, anyways. She could see a code running through her mind, althought while it was of the spark at her fingertips, it was also different and becoming more so with every second.
When she felt she had found all she needed, she pulled away, and noticed she felt different. She didn’t feel hot anymore; in fact, the heat was completely gone. At first, she thought the energy was gone, too, and had perhaps gone into the medic, but her arms still glowed and the medic looked unchanged as he moved his chest plates back together. She focused, and found the power still within her; still thrumming with readiness to be used. She turned to the box, but she just knew that wasn’t what she needed this time. No, she needed something else.
“Ratchet, do have some machine you don’t mind not having? Something not too big?” she asked quickly, her fingers beginning to tingle.
The medic opened his mouth to speak, but promptly shut it as he realized what she was getting at. He nodded only once then turned to the closet, shuffling through it and throwing anything that didn't meet his needs out of the way. He finally pulled out a machine that reminded her of some kind of turret braced on four short legs.
“This was left here from before we came. I suspect it was an unfinished mounted gun of some kind, but I have no use for it,” he explained as he set it down before her.
It stood about a foot taller than her, but that wasn’t a problem as she set her hands on its yellow surface, closed her eyes, and willed the energy into it. Sparks flared at once and an image she would have never thought of appeared in her mind. Even stranger was the white, wasteland-like place that appeared, and yet she knew that place. If only it had lasted longer, then she might have been able to place it, but it was only for a moment and then it was replaced by the image of the machine changing. Though her eyes were closed she could see it—deep within the mounted gun a spark was forming and beginning to shift the metal around it. The legs it stood on became longer and thicker, particular the back ones. The taller shaft where the gun was attached to lowered while the body elongated. The thicker part on the opposite end to the gun began to expand and curve, forming sockets for optics and molding into an oddly beast-like shaped head. When she felt the last of her power leave and the image fade, she opened her eyes and pulled away.
“By the Allspark!” she heard Jolt gasp, and a similar phrase, although to a different higher power, went through her mind. The creature before her was vastly different from her other creations. For one, it didn’t have a humanoid shape, but rather that of a lion or some other big cat. The mounted gun had become like a tail, its legs had become like real feline-like ones, and the rear had formed a head with a thick “mane” around the neck. The metal creature’s optics flickered once, then burst to life and it began to move. First it shook its head, sending the movement down its body, and then opened its mouth in a yawn. Seemingly satisfied, it turned its gaze onto Catherine and smiled, revealing metal fangs.
“Hello, Creator,” it spoke with a male, metallic tone to its voice.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, and the metal lion tilted its head as it sat down on its haunches.
“She… She did it… Right?” Jolt asked, looking to Ratchet for answers. The medic jerked back, having been just a baffled, and then moved closer to activate his scan. The metal lion jumped when the green light suddenly enveloped him, and turned to growl at the medic.
“What are you doing?” he hissed, stepping back towards Catherine. However, it wasn’t out of fear, rather it looked to the redhead like the metal feline was doing so to protect her.
“Yes. Yes she did. She made a true Cybertronian. I can’t believe it, but she did it. And a quadruped mech no less! I don’t even know how you did it when you haven’t even seen one!”
“Where is this place? Who are you? Do you intend to harm Creator?” the metal beast growled, mane-like panels rising and the gun lifting as if readying to fire.
“Whoa, whoa! Calm down! It’s okay!” Catherine quickly shouted, rushing towards the front of the beast to grab its mane. He calmed at once, though eyed the two mechs carefully. “These guys are my friends. They helped me make you. They’re also medics.”
“Medics?” it hummed, eyes dimming for a brief moment. “Healers. I see. Yes, you don’t seem dangerous. My sensors aren’t detecting hostilities.”
“Ratchet—we have to tell Optimus. This—this is incredible! He’s small, yes, but she did it!” Jolt exclaimed, but Ratchet was either not so overjoyed or he was much better at not showing it. The metallic-blue mech noticed, though, and frowned at his mentor. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was cut off as the medic suddenly turned to the redhead with a serious, worried look in his optics.
“Catherine, get your creations and get into the closet. Now,” he spoke urgently. “Jolt, take them quickly!”
“What? Ratchet, what’s going on?” he inquired as he held his hand out to the redhead. The lion moved to stop her after she’d picked up her two drones, but with reassurance he let her by. Jolt meant to grab the metal beat with his other, but the lion refused and instead hopped down to follow on foot.
“It’s Jazz. His team’s returned.”
“I thought they weren’t going to back for a few more days,” Catherine stated, and the medic’s nod worried her.
“There’s no time to explain right now. Jolt, get them in there now before they get here!”
No more was said as the redhead and her creations were put into the closet and the door shut. There was a thin slit for her and the lion to see through, the former with curiosity and the latter with caution. Neither one of them had to wait long for the cause of their hiding to come through the doors. She could see Ironhide’s upper body over the table, but not the others. She did hear their voices, though, and there was one she didn’t recognize although it felt vaguely familiar. She tried to think of whom it could belong to when the sound of a rumble from the lion creature caught her attention.
“Enemy unit detected,” he hissed, though became silent at her command. She looked back through the slit when she heard movement, and then she knew exactly who the voice reminded her of. The memories came rushing back, and she felt her heart race. There was no forgetting that black and white armor labeled with words mocking what should have been a symbol of protection. She couldn’t forget those fangs or red optics, either, and she felt the bitterness rising as she glanced down at the scar on her arm.
There, standing with his arms held by both Jazz and Sideswipe, was Barricade.
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