Project Reset - The Prequel (6/?)
LJ links to:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Bonus Snippets
Title: Project Reset - The Prequel (6/?)
Characters: Barricade, First Aid, Protectobots, hatchlings
Universe: movie-verse, post "Dark of the Moon" AU Heavily inspired by
niyazi_a's fic, Chance, and also this bit of Starscreamy awesomeness: Desert
Rating: K+
Word Count: 5172 words
Warnings and Notes: vague references to mpreg in this chapter, as well as somewhat mammal-equivalent hatchling feeding methods.
Summary: The hatchlings emerge from their molt cycle, a bit of help arrives, and the real fun begins!
“Special delivery,” Blades said as he unfolded from alt mode in the driveway the next day. He grinned at Barricade, removing a small bundle from the cache in his side and carefully tipping it into Barricade’s hands. “Ratchet wanted to get him back before he was awake enough to really know what was going on.”
“You brought him back,” Barricade said, staring at Blades.
“Ratchet says he’s doing absolutely great; no reason not to,” Blades said cheerily. “And we really didn’t want to traumatize the little guy by having him wake up in a strange place, not knowing anyone around.”
Barricade unwrapped the insulating blanket and cradled Bravespark, inspecting him closely. The hatchling was limp and relaxed in normal recharge instead of clenched tightly in the molt cycle. “He looks different,” he said in surprise. “He’s…green.”
Of course he’d known the hatchlings would change when they molted, but it was more startling than he’d expected; the differences would take a little getting used to. Bravespark’s armor gleamed a pale yellow-green, (an odd sort of color, were they all going to be like that?) and it felt soft, faintly flexible to the touch. Newly molted hatchlings needed to be handled delicately until their armor hardened, he remembered from…somewhere. Wheeljack’s notes? He didn’t remember reading it, but he must have downloaded it at some point during his repairs, and saved the information in his memory banks. Second instar: when the processors and frames went through a period of high malleability, the maturing protoforms able to mimic and mold to protective local camouflage, although not able to scan alt modes into full, specialized transformation until the fifth or sixth instar. Increased mobility and capacity for verbal language processing.
Bravespark’s faceplates were scrunched in recharge, the way he always did, but they were different as well, more finely shaped, the mandible components wider and smoothed out, the helm buttress more sharply defined and optic ridges now with a distinctive arch.
“He must have been awake enough to get a good look at Ratchet,” Blades chuckled. “Good thing his color nanites are still colonizing, or he’d be pure Ratchet green.”
Barricade looked down at Bravespark in alarm. “Don’t worry,” Blades reassured him. “If they’re anything like we were, they’re little chameleonformers; they’ll try out all sorts of colors and shapes. What they start with doesn’t mean anything.”
Bravespark stirred and one optic unshuttered to blink up at Barricade dimly. “Brrrp?” The hatchling wrapped his talons around Barricade’s hand. The digits were longer now, and as Barricade watched the ends shifted in form slightly, smoothing around the tips to grip more firmly. As Bravespark snuggled trustingly against his hand and sighed and fell right back into recharge, Barricade felt as if his spark chamber was trying to melt around his spark.
“Here I thought I’d finally got rid of one of you,” he murmured to the little recharging hatchling. “Looks like I’m stuck, now, doesn’t it.”
“Enjoy the snuggly stage while you can,” Blades said, still grinning.
“I estimate Starshine and Ducky will be emerging by tonight,” First Aid said, “and the rest over the next two or three days. Once they’re all fully awake…”
“Yeah,” Blades said. “Fourteen of them. We are so going to need backup. Who can we get out here on short notice with the right amount of security clearance, discretion, and energy? Maybe Bumblebee, if Sam can spare him-“
“That yellow cretin!” Barricade snarled. “He’s not coming anywhere near the hatchlings.”
First Aid looked startled. “But…we didn’t get to see him very often, but he was one of our favorite caretakers. He’s really very good with breakable lifeforms.”
“He never once dropped us, not even when he used to play toss the hatchling with Jazz,” Blades added.
Toss the hatchling! What kind of barbarians were these Autobots?
“They didn’t toss us very far,” First Aid said reassuringly, noting Barricade’s appalled expression. “It was great fun.”
“Over. My. Deactivated. Chassis.”
First Aid and Blades looked at one another, rapidly consulting in gestalt fashion.
“What about-“
“-but he won’t arrive for two more weeks.”
“Then-“
“Of course! If Maggie and Glen can manage without him…”
“No humans.” Barricade interjected.
“Not for the moment, no,” First Aid agreed. “But I think we can come up with a few helpers who’ll be acceptable.”
By nightfall Ducky and Starshine were stirring almost continuously, struggling to transform their newly flexible protoforms out of their stiffened outer shells. Barricade, First Aid, and Blades crammed themselves around the nest, watching in fascination as the tracework of silvery cracks over each armor segment appeared and disappeared as the hatchlings expanded and flexed.
Bravespark was beginning to stir as well, from his daylong doze against Barricade’s chestplates. He buzzed up at Barricade and then nudged and dug his claws insistently at Barricade’s armor, and by reflex Barricade opened an arm panel to slice open an energon line.
First Aid made a small sound and put a hand on his arm. “I just got all of those replaced.”
“Oh. Right.”
“He should be able to learn to drink from a cube after some practice, but for now…allow me?” First Aid said, holding out a hand for Bravespark. Barricade passed him over with a reluctance that made no sense. First Aid had had a tricky time resetting Barricade’s overclocked energon processing system to normal conversion levels, and it really didn’t make sense to overstress his systems again or to outfit him with feeding nozzles when they would be needed for such a short time. He should be feeling relieved to no longer be the sacrificial offering for a horde of voracious little vampirebots, not…left out. A little regretful. How strange.
Bravespark watched First Aid with wide optics at first-he’d been in molt cycle already when Aid had arrived-but soon was guzzling energon eagerly from one of the medic’s nozzles. Bravespark had always been so much weaker than the other hatchlings; it was heartening to see him refuel with such an enthusiastic appetite. Blades watched his brother fondly as he fed the hatchling.
“Yes, it helps,” First Aid said, smiling back at him, answering some unspoken gestalt-thought. “I won’t do anything reckless, Blades, don’t worry. Not until Ratchet thinks it’s ok. This batch will keep us more than busy enough for a long time, anyway.”
“Ok for what?” Barricade asked.
“Ok to spawn a clutch. Ratchet doesn’t want me to try yet. Or Optimus either, for that matter, not until some of his old damages have a chance to heal for another vorn or so.” First Aid frowned slightly. “With these hatchlings now, our population levels aren’t quite as critically low as they once were, but still, it’s frustrating to have to wait, there are so very few of us left…”
“Once he found out he was a Prime, we’ve been half expecting him to sneak off and spawn without telling anyone, like Optimus did,” Blades explained.
“Hm,” First Aid squinted a little grin at his brother, but didn’t deny it.
“But…spawning a clutch, are you really ok with doing…that?” Internal reproduction, it was all over the place on this planet of organic lifeforms, but as far as the equivalent process for Cybertronians…. Barricade didn’t know the details. He didn’t want to know the details (he hadn’t touched those entries in Wheeljack’s notes with a ten span electro-stick). He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned; he knew enough of Aid’s brothers to know they’d never allow him to be forced into something he didn’t want to do, not to mention First Aid was formidable himself in his own gently unformidable way, but…he could see the kid subjecting himself to any number of horrors for the greater good and all that slag. Optimus Prime had a rather alarming history of such things himself, misguided as Barricade had thought it at the time.
“I’m terrified,” First Aid admitted, looking down at Bravespark as he fed and stroking his helm tenderly with a few manipulator digits. “I will love them all so much. I already do, and they’re only possibilities.”
“Why do you ask?” Blades said, eyeing Barricade with a measuring expression. “Are you interested in contributing to the next generation?”
“Gah!”
“It’s theoretical at this point, but we’re fairly certain Starscream managed it, so spark-code contributions should be entirely possible,” First Aid added in all apparent earnestness. Barricade may or may not have whimpered, at which point they had mercy on him and dropped the subject, though he continued to be somewhat unnerved by something…considering…in First Aid’s optics every time he looked over at Barricade.
Bravespark snuggled back up to Barricade when he was done with his meal, hiccupping a little and humming in well-fed contentment as he cycled back into recharge. He had gone from green to white armor, Barricade noticed, and his helm and frame now vaguely resembled First Aid’s more squared off shape although his faceplates kept their distinctive cast.
“Hey, head’s up! I think this guy’s coming out!” Blades said, whispering in excitement from where he was crouched by the hatchling nest.
Starshine’s rounded form wriggled for a moment, the silver cracks along his armor stretching, expanding, and then with a muted sound of transformation his arms, legs, and helm unfolded, the thin, dark bronze outer layer peeling and flaking away to reveal soft, pale silver armor beneath. The newly emerged hatchling dragged himself clumsily over the lumpy shapes of his brothers, whirring softly. Barricade carefully scooped him up and tucked him next to Bravespark. Like Bravespark, Starshine’s features had refined, become more distinctive, but he was still recognizable as the hatchling Barricade had kept alive for so long. Starshine blinked up at him with dim, drowsy optics before sighing and cycling down into recharge. The process was repeated a few breems later with Ducky. Barricade was chagrined to realize some time later that they were both gradually taking on the patchy black, white, and silver blotches of his healing armor.
“Oh dear.” First Aid’s optics were crinkled in amusement. “I’ll see if I can speed up your paint job a bit.”
By morning Pingback, Gasket, Leeway, and Fulcrum had all emerged and Starshine and Ducky were making hungry burbles against Barricade’s armor. They had both also been well into the molt cycle when First Aid had arrived, but they never even onlined their optics to notice the unfamiliar mech or where the fuel was coming from, just grasped the nozzles tightly with both talons and imbibed. Barricade watched in amazement at the quantity.
“Are you going to have enough?” The rate Ducky was going…seriously, how could one little tank hold that much?
“I hope so,” First Aid laughed. “There’s enough for the first feeding or two, at any rate, and I’ll synthesize as much as I can. Hatchling-grade is optimal of course, but they can manage on regular energon and solid supplements if they need to, once they level off a bit. We can try teaching them to drink from cubes once they’re a little more awake, as well, although when we were second instar it took us several orns before we got more energon in us than on us.”
“Is it going to be like this for every molt cycle?” No wonder the Fallen had wanted to harvest the sun.
“It slows down after this one, a little, but yeah,” Blades told him. “Growing hatchlings takes a lot of energy. Ratchet’s been stocking up on hatchling-grade, too. I can make a fuel run if we need it.”
After Bravespark woke up again and took his second meal, First Aid finished off the rest of the tractor, downed several cubes of regular energon, and curled up for a nap while Groove and Streetwise showed up to replace Blades and help cuddle newly emerged hatchlings.
Over the rest of the day and following night the pattern continued: hatchlings emerging, recharging, refueling, until only Escape Velocity and Birdy Boo remained in molt stage. Barricade sighed and leaned against the barn wall, holding Fulcrum, Bravespark, Gasket, and Noggin. If he was this tired from simply sitting around and holding hatchlings for two days, he couldn’t imagine how First Aid was managing, synthesizing and fueling their voracious appetites as well, although Streetwise and Groove made sure First Aid recharged between feedings. First Aid was curled up now with four of the hatchlings, who were recharging in blissful sprawls against his chestplates. Streetwise and Groove were also dozing, cuddled up with four hatchlings snuggled between them. The two remaining hatchlings in molt stage weren’t showing signs of emerging right at the moment; Barricade considered joining everyone else in recharge, but the sound of helicopter rotors outside brought him back to full alert.
Groove and Streetwise blinked awake as well. “Blades is back,” Streetwise informed him, smiling. “You might want to go outside and check out what he brought on his supply run.”
Hm, maybe more of that high grade? Barricade looked down doubtfully at the four hatchlings on his chassis, but when he moved to stand they all automatically gripped talons into his armor with no more than a few mild squeaks of disturbance.
Barricade squinted and stretched as he emerged from the dim barn into bright sunlight and clear blue sky, feeling somewhat stiff from all of the sitting, but otherwise enjoying the pleasant lack of any major aches or pains. Blades transformed in the driveway as he landed. A ball of energetic, blurry silver barreled towards him and at first Barricade thought Blades had somehow brought back a fifteenth hatchling from somewhere. This was far too large and moving way too fast, however, even for a second instar hatchling. It wasn’t until the small mech was swarming up Barricade’s leg armor yelling his name that he was able to put a name to him.
“Frenzy, Frenzy, by Primus, you little glitch! I thought you were deactivated!”
“Ha! Stupid squishies, stupid Autobutts, couldn’t even chop me up right.” Frenzy made a rude electronic sound. Barricade had never been so happy to hear it. “Hey, medic-bot,” he called, as First Aid poked his head out at their arrival and Hot Spot, who had been on guard in alt mode in the driveway, transformed. “Hey fire-butt.”
“It’s the Zee-man, hey,” Groove said, smiling in greeting as he stooped out of the barn with Streetwise behind him, both cradling hatchlings.
“Frenzy.” First Aid smiled. “I’m so happy you came. See, I told you we’d find him.” Barricade was astonished to see Frenzy dip his optic stalks bashfully.
“Aw, never doubted you, doc. Honorable Autobutt, all that slag. Are these the hatchies? Little Barricade babies, aw.” Frenzy craned his neck from his vantage point on Barricade’s shoulder, peering down at the hatchlings clinging to his chest and arms, all wearing various patterns of black and white on their armor (some of them, Barricade thought, looked suspiciously like little cows rather than police cars). The other three hadn’t stirred, even with all the commotion, but Bravespark was wide awake, his optics brightly alert as they tracked Frenzy’s every move.
“Hiya hatchy, little slagger, aw.” Frenzy leaned down, stretching out one of his own talons towards the hatchling and very gently touched Bravespark’s own talons, tickling over them lightly. “Softy soft enough for ya, doc-bot? Treat ‘em like squishies, don’t want ‘em to go ka-splat!”
“That’s perfect, Frenzy,” First Aid told him. Frenzy waved his optics happily and scrambled back down Barricade’s frame and scaled First Aid, then Groove and Streetwise, to inspect the rest of the hatchlings. Barricade, well acquainted with Frenzy’s quicksilver attention span, took no offense as the little mech seemed to forget him completely. Upon discovering that one of them was named Barricade, Jr., Frenzy collapsed dramatically to the ground to roll about, cackling and kicking his legs, apparently finding this hilarious. “Little Cade! Itty bitty hatchy Barricade!”
Barricade, Jr., who had been recharging while clinging to Groove’s shoulder, onlined his optics and watched Frenzy’s antics with a dour expression on his little faceplates. “Slagger,” he muttered, in a tone of utter disgust. Groove and Streetwise both looked at the hatchling in surprise and then began to snicker helplessly, and First Aid clapped a hand over his mouthplates, his optics dancing. Hot Spot and Blades were laughing so hard they had to hold one another up in the driveway, and Barricade was hard put not to join them. Primus be damned if the little scrap didn’t sound exactly like…him.
“Ratchet sends presents,” Blades said, once everyone had regained their composure, except for occasional giggles (Barricade Jr. had wedged his helm back against Groove’s neck and was either back in recharge or ignoring them all completely). Blades handed a mid-sized container to First Aid. “He said they’re experimental, but if they work it should take some of the load off you until the hatchlings learn to drink from regular cubes or we get some more of us retrofitted with nozzles.”
First Aid pulled out something that looked like a small cube of energon with a trigger-nozzle attached to one corner. “Hatchling bottles!” First Aid gave a laugh of delight. “And twelve units of hatchling grade. Oh bless his spark.”
They experimented with the modified feeding cubes when the next wave of hungry hatchlings awoke, and though it took some practice to get the angle and flow speed just right, once everyone got the hang of them they worked brilliantly.
“I wonder why Wheeljack never thought of this,” Hot Spot said, as he refueled Toolkit. “Bottles, like the humans use. It seems so obvious.”
“Not bottles, exactly,” Streetwise observed. “Hatchlings aren’t really equipped to suckle. These are more like…sippy cubes!”
“Humans have had a lot more experience with altricial young,” First Aid said, “and we were the first hatchlings since Optimus. Maybe portable self-contained feeding receptacles are only obvious in hindsight.”
With the barn inhabited by four of five Protectobots (Blades was on guard outside, although Barricade wondered how long a large red helicopter could make repeated flights to a random barn out in the middle of the country before someone started taking unwanted notice. Not to mention the regular visits by a big blue fire truck) plus Frenzy (who could bound across the barn twenty times in less than five kliks, Barricade had counted), things were undeniably crowded, but somehow rather than being claustrophobic the atmosphere was strangely convivial. It reminded him a little of long space flights with dozens of battle-brothers crammed together in the hold of a tiny ship, back in his first vorns under the Lord High Protector. There had been the same sense of tedium eased by camaraderie, shared purpose, swapping stories and jokes and complaining of kinks in neck struts.
Frenzy proved to be a surprisingly competent hatchling-feeder, arranging a hatchling nearly half his size across his legs and then bending himself almost in half to hold the cube in the right position (having four hands helped), talking animated nonsense to the hatchling the entire time. His current subject, Fulcrum, had finished his cube and gone back into recharge with talons firmly gripping Frenzy’s leg and lower torso.
Frenzy stood, wobbling under the weight of the hatchling on his leg, and hop-dragged himself over to Barricade with Fulcrum clinging like an oversized space barnacle. “Bittybit’s topped off, boss!” he panted cheerfully, flinging two of his arms across Barricade’s leg. “Gimmethenext, hungry hungry hatchies whoo!”
Barricade looked around, considering. Escape Velocity and Birdy Boo were too newly emerged to be hungry as of yet, and every other hatchling was either currently being fed or in recharge. “Mission accomplished, Frenzy. For the next two breems anyway,” he sighed wearily, though never so weary as it had been all those other times, when the fuel had come directly from his own systems. Six eager helpers and an ample energon supply. It was a vast improvement.
When Frenzy didn’t answer him, Barricade finally looked down to find the little mech had gone completely limp in recharge over his leg. Ah yes, Frenzy had two settings: ultra-on, or off. Nothing in between. Barricade scooted Frenzy, with Fulcrum still attached, up a little, and the pile of hatchlings in Barricade’s lap glommed on to him happily until Frenzy’s skinny silver frame was barely visible, a few of them turning silver to match. And did Gasket have… optic stalks? Barricade blinked his own optics, but it was suddenly too much effort to try to look closer. First Aid was eyeing him with a look that meant, he suspected, that he was approximately one klik away from being oh-so-gently and firmly offered energon and told to take a nap.
To forestall it, he rested a hand on the pile in his lap and said, “Thank you. For this.” There, see, that wasn’t so hard. He could play nicey nice with the best of them. (Aaand he was starting to think in Frenzy-speak. Great. Nappity naptime it definitely was.)
“You were the first thing he demanded, once we got him repaired,” First Aid said.
“And then he wanted Twizzlers, paintbrushes, a rocket launcher, and catfood, in that order,” Streetwise remembered, chuckling. “After that he hacked every piece of equipment in Ratchet’s medbay and programmed everything to do the Macarena.”
“What has he been up to, all this time?” Barricade had asked Frenzy directly, earlier, but Frenzy had only gotten about three words into the reply before deciding that the barn needed to be investigated vertically in addition to horizontally.
“The last year he’s been working mostly with Maggie and Glen, tracking down some internet anomalies, various projects,” First Aid said cryptically. “He’s been a big help.”
Geological anomalies, internet anomalies. There were an awful lot of anomalies floating around, Barricade thought. More secrets, although nothing felt threatening or even particularly worrisome about them. Some secrets are not ours to tell, Groove had said, but maybe he could get Frenzy to sit still long enough to pry a few out of him later.
“Frenzy’s pretty creative,” Streetwise added, grinning. “The world wide web will never be the same.”
Groove smiled at Barricade, his shy Groove-smile. “Little robot geek sandwiches, too.”
Barricade frowned. Did that mean the humans were attempting to eat Frenzy or that the little menace had harassed them into fixing him cheeseburgers?
“Wheelie and Brains hated him for about two breems and then they decided to adopt him,” Hot Spot explained further, at Barricade’s look. “You should see them all recharging on Glen’s couch.”
“With teddy bear,” Groove giggled.
“No substitute for the real Bear, though,” Streetwise winked, grinning at the Frenzy-and-hatchlings snuggle pile in Barricade’s lap.
Living with humans. Snuggling with Autobots, and…teddy bears. With that alarming (and, Barricade had to privately admit, kind of sparkwarming) image, and in the secure knowledge that all the hatchlings were safe and well cared for, Barricade growled once for Streetwise’s benefit, powered off his optics and let himself relax into recharge.
He awoke to pandemonium. Once he sat up and calmed his racing engine, Barricade downgraded that assessment. It was only moderate hubbub, startling after two days of cuddling and feeding slow, sleepy hatchlings. Escape Velocity and Birdy Boo were still recharging on his chestplates, but the rest of the hatchlings were awake and exploring, some of them crawl-walking across the barn floor now at a fairly good clip rather than the creeping pace of their first instar, others climbing on the Protectobots, and of course there was the usual mayhem that was Frenzy, who was cackling and staggering around the barn with two gleefully bleeping hatchlings clinging to his legs and one wrapped around his head.
Out of the chorus of hatchling squeaks, chirps, and beeps, a tiny voice chirruped “Bear!” and Barricade suddenly found himself the focus of a hatchling stampede as all twelve abandoned their other entertainments. By the time they reached him and clambered on board all of the hatchlings were black-and-white, regardless of what color they had started out. A few of them sported tiny, vaguely door-wing-shaped appendages on their backs.
“Aw, would you look at that.” The Protectobots were all watching with fond, sappy smiles, Blades poking his head in through the barn door to enjoy the show.
“Mmph.” Barricade extracted a few hatchling limbs from his mouthparts and nudged someone further up onto his helm and another someone off his audio. Escape Velocity and Birdy Boo stirred fretfully under the onslaught.
“We’ve got all aerial surveillance diverted. Why don’t you take them all outside for a bit?” First Aid suggested. “I can take those two; they’re going to be hungry pretty soon, anyway.”
No one else seemed hungry. Barricade looked down at the crowd of bright optics looking up at him. Some of them sported optics in blue or yellow now, although Fulcrum’s blinked back to red as he watched. “What do you think, Pit spawns?” He jiggled the ones on his arms a little. “Should we go see the cows?” There was a chorus of excited buzz-beeps of agreement, which included a few words in Cybertronian and English as the hatchlings tried out their burgeoning language skills.
“OooOOOooo!”
“Cowwowcow!”
“Frag, yeah.”
Barricade kept his face straight with an effort, standing carefully with his squirmy, clingy, happily mooing horde, pausing to let First Aid extract the two still sleepy ones. Frenzy scampered in and out the barn door several times, leading the way. Once outside, the hatchlings grew quiet, flattening against his armor and staring around at the trees and sky with wide optics.
“Their visual acuity and color perception is quite a bit better in the second instar,” First Aid explained as he came to stand next to them. “It’s a big wide world, isn’t it little ones?”
“Bweeeooo,” Starshine agreed, echoed by several of the other hatchlings.
“Come on down, little hatchies!” Frenzy flopped on his back and waved his limbs up at them. “Don’t be robo-chickies hatchy hatchies, chick chick chicks! Brwaaaaaaawk!”
Cautiously at first, the hatchlings clambered down Barricade and began to make small excursions with their funny stumbling crawl-walk locomotion, with Frenzy offering encouragement. They had seemed completely comfortable with the Protectobots and feedings inside the barn, but outside apparently was an entirely different matter. The hatchlings kept a leery distance from all of them except for First Aid. The other four Protectobots, for their part, didn’t try to push the hatchlings past their comfort levels and settled at a non-threatening distance to watch. Hot Spot oh-so-casually filled up a few hatchling feeding cubes and set them on his knees, drawing a few interested glances but no takers for the moment. As the hatchlings grew bolder they ventured to the fenceline separating the cow pasture. Several of them climbed up the fence and mooed, and the cows obligingly ambled over to nose and snuff at the hatchlings curiously, to a chorus of delighted squeak-buzz-giggles.
After the cows and hatchlings had gotten reacquainted and the cows wandered off to continue their grazing, Frenzy led a trail of hatchlings in a game of chase down the driveway. At second instar the hatchlings were still more proportionally designed for climbing and clinging than walking; their mincing, unbalanced steps as they attempted to imitate Frenzy made them look like some sort of drunken conga line. Frenzy slowed enough to be “caught” and was engulfed by the horde. Barricade was impressed - Frenzy held perfectly still as he was thoroughly investigated by a dozen curious hatchlings.
“Careful,” Barricade admonished, coming up next to them. Not that he really thought Frenzy would let himself get damaged, but he knew from experience how sharp hatchling talons could be and Noggin’s talons were right up by Frenzy’s optics.
“Aw, they ain’t hurting me, boss, little hatchies, little noggy woggies.” Frenzy waggled his mandibles in a lopsided grin from underneath Leeway, now leaning on his face and peering closely in his optics. The hatchlings spent the rest of the afternoon exploring, dragging branches around, dragging Frenzy around, watching Streetwise and Groove do a fandango demonstration (several of them bouncing up and down in place or sitting and kicking their limbs about in excited imitation), attempting to pick up grasshoppers and gravel (both of which still usually eluded the dexterity of their hatchling talons, although they were doing better than they had as first instars), and expanding their vocabulary skills with varying degrees of intelligibility and accuracy.
“Codfish,” Fulcrum said distinctly, his expression very serious as he handed Barricade up an ancient plastic cup he’d dragged out of a ditch somewhere. His bent talon had straightened itself sometime during the molt process, Barricade was pleased to see.
“Uh, yeah. Nice. Thanks.” Barricade took the cup and tilted his head back to drop it in his mouth, swallowing the grungy petrochemical morsel. He’d eaten worse.
Fulcrum seemed satisfied with that, and clambered up Barricade’s leg and up to his shoulder and snuggled in, his systems whirring softly. The hatchlings were slowing down at last, it seemed. Several had wandered over to First Aid for energon and were now clinging in various stages of drowsiness. Barricade acquired Toolkit in addition to Fulcrum. Squiggles was edging closer and closer to Hot Spot, eyeing the energon cube. Hot Spot wiggled it enticingly, and Squiggles finally climbed aboard, transforming from pointy and Frenzy-silver to blocky and Hot Spot-blue as he did so.
“Sorry bitlet, this gas station’s full,” Hot Spot said to Pingback, who had also climbed to his knee and was bleeping up at him mournfully. “I don’t have Aid’s fancy hands. I can only feed one at a time, see?”
“Aw, c’mere, little guy,” Groove said, dipping with his long arms to snag one of Hot Spot’s pre-filled cubes.
“Energon, energon!” Pingback squeaked, tumbling and rolling off of Hot Spot in his eagerness and scrambling over to Groove.
“And aren’t you a handsome fellow,” Groove said, as Pingback switched to match Groove’s mostly-black-with-red-trim color scheme. “See if you can hold it by yourself, like this.” Groove, with Blades grinning over his shoulder, watched in satisfaction as Pingback guzzled his cube, gripping it tightly with only a little assistance from Groove controlling the nozzle flow, but Barricade stiffened as their expressions changed suddenly to alertness, all of the Protectobots taking on listening poses, exchanging quick glances and scanning the sky. Blades flared his rotors out briefly, protectively over Groove and the hatchling and settled them back again, but his stance was still defensive, armor and weapons bristling.
“Oh my,” First Aid said, shifting some of his hatchlings so he could stand.
“Ooo?” one of them questioned, sleepily.
“Moo, dearest,” First Aid responded, patting it reassuringly. “Everything’s all right.” Despite his words, First Aid was also scanning the sky, his expression sharply alert.
“What’s going on?” Barricade demanded.
“It looks as if things are going to get interesting very quickly,” First Aid said. Barricade couldn’t tell if the assessing look First Aid was giving him was worried at all or just…assessing. “Galvatron’s re-entered the current space-time stream, and for some reason…he’s heading right for us.”
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/89760.html. Please comment wherever you wish.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Bonus Snippets
Title: Project Reset - The Prequel (6/?)
Characters: Barricade, First Aid, Protectobots, hatchlings
Universe: movie-verse, post "Dark of the Moon" AU Heavily inspired by
niyazi_a's fic, Chance, and also this bit of Starscreamy awesomeness: Desert
Rating: K+
Word Count: 5172 words
Warnings and Notes: vague references to mpreg in this chapter, as well as somewhat mammal-equivalent hatchling feeding methods.
Summary: The hatchlings emerge from their molt cycle, a bit of help arrives, and the real fun begins!
“Special delivery,” Blades said as he unfolded from alt mode in the driveway the next day. He grinned at Barricade, removing a small bundle from the cache in his side and carefully tipping it into Barricade’s hands. “Ratchet wanted to get him back before he was awake enough to really know what was going on.”
“You brought him back,” Barricade said, staring at Blades.
“Ratchet says he’s doing absolutely great; no reason not to,” Blades said cheerily. “And we really didn’t want to traumatize the little guy by having him wake up in a strange place, not knowing anyone around.”
Barricade unwrapped the insulating blanket and cradled Bravespark, inspecting him closely. The hatchling was limp and relaxed in normal recharge instead of clenched tightly in the molt cycle. “He looks different,” he said in surprise. “He’s…green.”
Of course he’d known the hatchlings would change when they molted, but it was more startling than he’d expected; the differences would take a little getting used to. Bravespark’s armor gleamed a pale yellow-green, (an odd sort of color, were they all going to be like that?) and it felt soft, faintly flexible to the touch. Newly molted hatchlings needed to be handled delicately until their armor hardened, he remembered from…somewhere. Wheeljack’s notes? He didn’t remember reading it, but he must have downloaded it at some point during his repairs, and saved the information in his memory banks. Second instar: when the processors and frames went through a period of high malleability, the maturing protoforms able to mimic and mold to protective local camouflage, although not able to scan alt modes into full, specialized transformation until the fifth or sixth instar. Increased mobility and capacity for verbal language processing.
Bravespark’s faceplates were scrunched in recharge, the way he always did, but they were different as well, more finely shaped, the mandible components wider and smoothed out, the helm buttress more sharply defined and optic ridges now with a distinctive arch.
“He must have been awake enough to get a good look at Ratchet,” Blades chuckled. “Good thing his color nanites are still colonizing, or he’d be pure Ratchet green.”
Barricade looked down at Bravespark in alarm. “Don’t worry,” Blades reassured him. “If they’re anything like we were, they’re little chameleonformers; they’ll try out all sorts of colors and shapes. What they start with doesn’t mean anything.”
Bravespark stirred and one optic unshuttered to blink up at Barricade dimly. “Brrrp?” The hatchling wrapped his talons around Barricade’s hand. The digits were longer now, and as Barricade watched the ends shifted in form slightly, smoothing around the tips to grip more firmly. As Bravespark snuggled trustingly against his hand and sighed and fell right back into recharge, Barricade felt as if his spark chamber was trying to melt around his spark.
“Here I thought I’d finally got rid of one of you,” he murmured to the little recharging hatchling. “Looks like I’m stuck, now, doesn’t it.”
“Enjoy the snuggly stage while you can,” Blades said, still grinning.
“I estimate Starshine and Ducky will be emerging by tonight,” First Aid said, “and the rest over the next two or three days. Once they’re all fully awake…”
“Yeah,” Blades said. “Fourteen of them. We are so going to need backup. Who can we get out here on short notice with the right amount of security clearance, discretion, and energy? Maybe Bumblebee, if Sam can spare him-“
“That yellow cretin!” Barricade snarled. “He’s not coming anywhere near the hatchlings.”
First Aid looked startled. “But…we didn’t get to see him very often, but he was one of our favorite caretakers. He’s really very good with breakable lifeforms.”
“He never once dropped us, not even when he used to play toss the hatchling with Jazz,” Blades added.
Toss the hatchling! What kind of barbarians were these Autobots?
“They didn’t toss us very far,” First Aid said reassuringly, noting Barricade’s appalled expression. “It was great fun.”
“Over. My. Deactivated. Chassis.”
First Aid and Blades looked at one another, rapidly consulting in gestalt fashion.
“What about-“
“-but he won’t arrive for two more weeks.”
“Then-“
“Of course! If Maggie and Glen can manage without him…”
“No humans.” Barricade interjected.
“Not for the moment, no,” First Aid agreed. “But I think we can come up with a few helpers who’ll be acceptable.”
By nightfall Ducky and Starshine were stirring almost continuously, struggling to transform their newly flexible protoforms out of their stiffened outer shells. Barricade, First Aid, and Blades crammed themselves around the nest, watching in fascination as the tracework of silvery cracks over each armor segment appeared and disappeared as the hatchlings expanded and flexed.
Bravespark was beginning to stir as well, from his daylong doze against Barricade’s chestplates. He buzzed up at Barricade and then nudged and dug his claws insistently at Barricade’s armor, and by reflex Barricade opened an arm panel to slice open an energon line.
First Aid made a small sound and put a hand on his arm. “I just got all of those replaced.”
“Oh. Right.”
“He should be able to learn to drink from a cube after some practice, but for now…allow me?” First Aid said, holding out a hand for Bravespark. Barricade passed him over with a reluctance that made no sense. First Aid had had a tricky time resetting Barricade’s overclocked energon processing system to normal conversion levels, and it really didn’t make sense to overstress his systems again or to outfit him with feeding nozzles when they would be needed for such a short time. He should be feeling relieved to no longer be the sacrificial offering for a horde of voracious little vampirebots, not…left out. A little regretful. How strange.
Bravespark watched First Aid with wide optics at first-he’d been in molt cycle already when Aid had arrived-but soon was guzzling energon eagerly from one of the medic’s nozzles. Bravespark had always been so much weaker than the other hatchlings; it was heartening to see him refuel with such an enthusiastic appetite. Blades watched his brother fondly as he fed the hatchling.
“Yes, it helps,” First Aid said, smiling back at him, answering some unspoken gestalt-thought. “I won’t do anything reckless, Blades, don’t worry. Not until Ratchet thinks it’s ok. This batch will keep us more than busy enough for a long time, anyway.”
“Ok for what?” Barricade asked.
“Ok to spawn a clutch. Ratchet doesn’t want me to try yet. Or Optimus either, for that matter, not until some of his old damages have a chance to heal for another vorn or so.” First Aid frowned slightly. “With these hatchlings now, our population levels aren’t quite as critically low as they once were, but still, it’s frustrating to have to wait, there are so very few of us left…”
“Once he found out he was a Prime, we’ve been half expecting him to sneak off and spawn without telling anyone, like Optimus did,” Blades explained.
“Hm,” First Aid squinted a little grin at his brother, but didn’t deny it.
“But…spawning a clutch, are you really ok with doing…that?” Internal reproduction, it was all over the place on this planet of organic lifeforms, but as far as the equivalent process for Cybertronians…. Barricade didn’t know the details. He didn’t want to know the details (he hadn’t touched those entries in Wheeljack’s notes with a ten span electro-stick). He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned; he knew enough of Aid’s brothers to know they’d never allow him to be forced into something he didn’t want to do, not to mention First Aid was formidable himself in his own gently unformidable way, but…he could see the kid subjecting himself to any number of horrors for the greater good and all that slag. Optimus Prime had a rather alarming history of such things himself, misguided as Barricade had thought it at the time.
“I’m terrified,” First Aid admitted, looking down at Bravespark as he fed and stroking his helm tenderly with a few manipulator digits. “I will love them all so much. I already do, and they’re only possibilities.”
“Why do you ask?” Blades said, eyeing Barricade with a measuring expression. “Are you interested in contributing to the next generation?”
“Gah!”
“It’s theoretical at this point, but we’re fairly certain Starscream managed it, so spark-code contributions should be entirely possible,” First Aid added in all apparent earnestness. Barricade may or may not have whimpered, at which point they had mercy on him and dropped the subject, though he continued to be somewhat unnerved by something…considering…in First Aid’s optics every time he looked over at Barricade.
Bravespark snuggled back up to Barricade when he was done with his meal, hiccupping a little and humming in well-fed contentment as he cycled back into recharge. He had gone from green to white armor, Barricade noticed, and his helm and frame now vaguely resembled First Aid’s more squared off shape although his faceplates kept their distinctive cast.
“Hey, head’s up! I think this guy’s coming out!” Blades said, whispering in excitement from where he was crouched by the hatchling nest.
Starshine’s rounded form wriggled for a moment, the silver cracks along his armor stretching, expanding, and then with a muted sound of transformation his arms, legs, and helm unfolded, the thin, dark bronze outer layer peeling and flaking away to reveal soft, pale silver armor beneath. The newly emerged hatchling dragged himself clumsily over the lumpy shapes of his brothers, whirring softly. Barricade carefully scooped him up and tucked him next to Bravespark. Like Bravespark, Starshine’s features had refined, become more distinctive, but he was still recognizable as the hatchling Barricade had kept alive for so long. Starshine blinked up at him with dim, drowsy optics before sighing and cycling down into recharge. The process was repeated a few breems later with Ducky. Barricade was chagrined to realize some time later that they were both gradually taking on the patchy black, white, and silver blotches of his healing armor.
“Oh dear.” First Aid’s optics were crinkled in amusement. “I’ll see if I can speed up your paint job a bit.”
By morning Pingback, Gasket, Leeway, and Fulcrum had all emerged and Starshine and Ducky were making hungry burbles against Barricade’s armor. They had both also been well into the molt cycle when First Aid had arrived, but they never even onlined their optics to notice the unfamiliar mech or where the fuel was coming from, just grasped the nozzles tightly with both talons and imbibed. Barricade watched in amazement at the quantity.
“Are you going to have enough?” The rate Ducky was going…seriously, how could one little tank hold that much?
“I hope so,” First Aid laughed. “There’s enough for the first feeding or two, at any rate, and I’ll synthesize as much as I can. Hatchling-grade is optimal of course, but they can manage on regular energon and solid supplements if they need to, once they level off a bit. We can try teaching them to drink from cubes once they’re a little more awake, as well, although when we were second instar it took us several orns before we got more energon in us than on us.”
“Is it going to be like this for every molt cycle?” No wonder the Fallen had wanted to harvest the sun.
“It slows down after this one, a little, but yeah,” Blades told him. “Growing hatchlings takes a lot of energy. Ratchet’s been stocking up on hatchling-grade, too. I can make a fuel run if we need it.”
After Bravespark woke up again and took his second meal, First Aid finished off the rest of the tractor, downed several cubes of regular energon, and curled up for a nap while Groove and Streetwise showed up to replace Blades and help cuddle newly emerged hatchlings.
Over the rest of the day and following night the pattern continued: hatchlings emerging, recharging, refueling, until only Escape Velocity and Birdy Boo remained in molt stage. Barricade sighed and leaned against the barn wall, holding Fulcrum, Bravespark, Gasket, and Noggin. If he was this tired from simply sitting around and holding hatchlings for two days, he couldn’t imagine how First Aid was managing, synthesizing and fueling their voracious appetites as well, although Streetwise and Groove made sure First Aid recharged between feedings. First Aid was curled up now with four of the hatchlings, who were recharging in blissful sprawls against his chestplates. Streetwise and Groove were also dozing, cuddled up with four hatchlings snuggled between them. The two remaining hatchlings in molt stage weren’t showing signs of emerging right at the moment; Barricade considered joining everyone else in recharge, but the sound of helicopter rotors outside brought him back to full alert.
Groove and Streetwise blinked awake as well. “Blades is back,” Streetwise informed him, smiling. “You might want to go outside and check out what he brought on his supply run.”
Hm, maybe more of that high grade? Barricade looked down doubtfully at the four hatchlings on his chassis, but when he moved to stand they all automatically gripped talons into his armor with no more than a few mild squeaks of disturbance.
Barricade squinted and stretched as he emerged from the dim barn into bright sunlight and clear blue sky, feeling somewhat stiff from all of the sitting, but otherwise enjoying the pleasant lack of any major aches or pains. Blades transformed in the driveway as he landed. A ball of energetic, blurry silver barreled towards him and at first Barricade thought Blades had somehow brought back a fifteenth hatchling from somewhere. This was far too large and moving way too fast, however, even for a second instar hatchling. It wasn’t until the small mech was swarming up Barricade’s leg armor yelling his name that he was able to put a name to him.
“Frenzy, Frenzy, by Primus, you little glitch! I thought you were deactivated!”
“Ha! Stupid squishies, stupid Autobutts, couldn’t even chop me up right.” Frenzy made a rude electronic sound. Barricade had never been so happy to hear it. “Hey, medic-bot,” he called, as First Aid poked his head out at their arrival and Hot Spot, who had been on guard in alt mode in the driveway, transformed. “Hey fire-butt.”
“It’s the Zee-man, hey,” Groove said, smiling in greeting as he stooped out of the barn with Streetwise behind him, both cradling hatchlings.
“Frenzy.” First Aid smiled. “I’m so happy you came. See, I told you we’d find him.” Barricade was astonished to see Frenzy dip his optic stalks bashfully.
“Aw, never doubted you, doc. Honorable Autobutt, all that slag. Are these the hatchies? Little Barricade babies, aw.” Frenzy craned his neck from his vantage point on Barricade’s shoulder, peering down at the hatchlings clinging to his chest and arms, all wearing various patterns of black and white on their armor (some of them, Barricade thought, looked suspiciously like little cows rather than police cars). The other three hadn’t stirred, even with all the commotion, but Bravespark was wide awake, his optics brightly alert as they tracked Frenzy’s every move.
“Hiya hatchy, little slagger, aw.” Frenzy leaned down, stretching out one of his own talons towards the hatchling and very gently touched Bravespark’s own talons, tickling over them lightly. “Softy soft enough for ya, doc-bot? Treat ‘em like squishies, don’t want ‘em to go ka-splat!”
“That’s perfect, Frenzy,” First Aid told him. Frenzy waved his optics happily and scrambled back down Barricade’s frame and scaled First Aid, then Groove and Streetwise, to inspect the rest of the hatchlings. Barricade, well acquainted with Frenzy’s quicksilver attention span, took no offense as the little mech seemed to forget him completely. Upon discovering that one of them was named Barricade, Jr., Frenzy collapsed dramatically to the ground to roll about, cackling and kicking his legs, apparently finding this hilarious. “Little Cade! Itty bitty hatchy Barricade!”
Barricade, Jr., who had been recharging while clinging to Groove’s shoulder, onlined his optics and watched Frenzy’s antics with a dour expression on his little faceplates. “Slagger,” he muttered, in a tone of utter disgust. Groove and Streetwise both looked at the hatchling in surprise and then began to snicker helplessly, and First Aid clapped a hand over his mouthplates, his optics dancing. Hot Spot and Blades were laughing so hard they had to hold one another up in the driveway, and Barricade was hard put not to join them. Primus be damned if the little scrap didn’t sound exactly like…him.
“Ratchet sends presents,” Blades said, once everyone had regained their composure, except for occasional giggles (Barricade Jr. had wedged his helm back against Groove’s neck and was either back in recharge or ignoring them all completely). Blades handed a mid-sized container to First Aid. “He said they’re experimental, but if they work it should take some of the load off you until the hatchlings learn to drink from regular cubes or we get some more of us retrofitted with nozzles.”
First Aid pulled out something that looked like a small cube of energon with a trigger-nozzle attached to one corner. “Hatchling bottles!” First Aid gave a laugh of delight. “And twelve units of hatchling grade. Oh bless his spark.”
They experimented with the modified feeding cubes when the next wave of hungry hatchlings awoke, and though it took some practice to get the angle and flow speed just right, once everyone got the hang of them they worked brilliantly.
“I wonder why Wheeljack never thought of this,” Hot Spot said, as he refueled Toolkit. “Bottles, like the humans use. It seems so obvious.”
“Not bottles, exactly,” Streetwise observed. “Hatchlings aren’t really equipped to suckle. These are more like…sippy cubes!”
“Humans have had a lot more experience with altricial young,” First Aid said, “and we were the first hatchlings since Optimus. Maybe portable self-contained feeding receptacles are only obvious in hindsight.”
With the barn inhabited by four of five Protectobots (Blades was on guard outside, although Barricade wondered how long a large red helicopter could make repeated flights to a random barn out in the middle of the country before someone started taking unwanted notice. Not to mention the regular visits by a big blue fire truck) plus Frenzy (who could bound across the barn twenty times in less than five kliks, Barricade had counted), things were undeniably crowded, but somehow rather than being claustrophobic the atmosphere was strangely convivial. It reminded him a little of long space flights with dozens of battle-brothers crammed together in the hold of a tiny ship, back in his first vorns under the Lord High Protector. There had been the same sense of tedium eased by camaraderie, shared purpose, swapping stories and jokes and complaining of kinks in neck struts.
Frenzy proved to be a surprisingly competent hatchling-feeder, arranging a hatchling nearly half his size across his legs and then bending himself almost in half to hold the cube in the right position (having four hands helped), talking animated nonsense to the hatchling the entire time. His current subject, Fulcrum, had finished his cube and gone back into recharge with talons firmly gripping Frenzy’s leg and lower torso.
Frenzy stood, wobbling under the weight of the hatchling on his leg, and hop-dragged himself over to Barricade with Fulcrum clinging like an oversized space barnacle. “Bittybit’s topped off, boss!” he panted cheerfully, flinging two of his arms across Barricade’s leg. “Gimmethenext, hungry hungry hatchies whoo!”
Barricade looked around, considering. Escape Velocity and Birdy Boo were too newly emerged to be hungry as of yet, and every other hatchling was either currently being fed or in recharge. “Mission accomplished, Frenzy. For the next two breems anyway,” he sighed wearily, though never so weary as it had been all those other times, when the fuel had come directly from his own systems. Six eager helpers and an ample energon supply. It was a vast improvement.
When Frenzy didn’t answer him, Barricade finally looked down to find the little mech had gone completely limp in recharge over his leg. Ah yes, Frenzy had two settings: ultra-on, or off. Nothing in between. Barricade scooted Frenzy, with Fulcrum still attached, up a little, and the pile of hatchlings in Barricade’s lap glommed on to him happily until Frenzy’s skinny silver frame was barely visible, a few of them turning silver to match. And did Gasket have… optic stalks? Barricade blinked his own optics, but it was suddenly too much effort to try to look closer. First Aid was eyeing him with a look that meant, he suspected, that he was approximately one klik away from being oh-so-gently and firmly offered energon and told to take a nap.
To forestall it, he rested a hand on the pile in his lap and said, “Thank you. For this.” There, see, that wasn’t so hard. He could play nicey nice with the best of them. (Aaand he was starting to think in Frenzy-speak. Great. Nappity naptime it definitely was.)
“You were the first thing he demanded, once we got him repaired,” First Aid said.
“And then he wanted Twizzlers, paintbrushes, a rocket launcher, and catfood, in that order,” Streetwise remembered, chuckling. “After that he hacked every piece of equipment in Ratchet’s medbay and programmed everything to do the Macarena.”
“What has he been up to, all this time?” Barricade had asked Frenzy directly, earlier, but Frenzy had only gotten about three words into the reply before deciding that the barn needed to be investigated vertically in addition to horizontally.
“The last year he’s been working mostly with Maggie and Glen, tracking down some internet anomalies, various projects,” First Aid said cryptically. “He’s been a big help.”
Geological anomalies, internet anomalies. There were an awful lot of anomalies floating around, Barricade thought. More secrets, although nothing felt threatening or even particularly worrisome about them. Some secrets are not ours to tell, Groove had said, but maybe he could get Frenzy to sit still long enough to pry a few out of him later.
“Frenzy’s pretty creative,” Streetwise added, grinning. “The world wide web will never be the same.”
Groove smiled at Barricade, his shy Groove-smile. “Little robot geek sandwiches, too.”
Barricade frowned. Did that mean the humans were attempting to eat Frenzy or that the little menace had harassed them into fixing him cheeseburgers?
“Wheelie and Brains hated him for about two breems and then they decided to adopt him,” Hot Spot explained further, at Barricade’s look. “You should see them all recharging on Glen’s couch.”
“With teddy bear,” Groove giggled.
“No substitute for the real Bear, though,” Streetwise winked, grinning at the Frenzy-and-hatchlings snuggle pile in Barricade’s lap.
Living with humans. Snuggling with Autobots, and…teddy bears. With that alarming (and, Barricade had to privately admit, kind of sparkwarming) image, and in the secure knowledge that all the hatchlings were safe and well cared for, Barricade growled once for Streetwise’s benefit, powered off his optics and let himself relax into recharge.
He awoke to pandemonium. Once he sat up and calmed his racing engine, Barricade downgraded that assessment. It was only moderate hubbub, startling after two days of cuddling and feeding slow, sleepy hatchlings. Escape Velocity and Birdy Boo were still recharging on his chestplates, but the rest of the hatchlings were awake and exploring, some of them crawl-walking across the barn floor now at a fairly good clip rather than the creeping pace of their first instar, others climbing on the Protectobots, and of course there was the usual mayhem that was Frenzy, who was cackling and staggering around the barn with two gleefully bleeping hatchlings clinging to his legs and one wrapped around his head.
Out of the chorus of hatchling squeaks, chirps, and beeps, a tiny voice chirruped “Bear!” and Barricade suddenly found himself the focus of a hatchling stampede as all twelve abandoned their other entertainments. By the time they reached him and clambered on board all of the hatchlings were black-and-white, regardless of what color they had started out. A few of them sported tiny, vaguely door-wing-shaped appendages on their backs.
“Aw, would you look at that.” The Protectobots were all watching with fond, sappy smiles, Blades poking his head in through the barn door to enjoy the show.
“Mmph.” Barricade extracted a few hatchling limbs from his mouthparts and nudged someone further up onto his helm and another someone off his audio. Escape Velocity and Birdy Boo stirred fretfully under the onslaught.
“We’ve got all aerial surveillance diverted. Why don’t you take them all outside for a bit?” First Aid suggested. “I can take those two; they’re going to be hungry pretty soon, anyway.”
No one else seemed hungry. Barricade looked down at the crowd of bright optics looking up at him. Some of them sported optics in blue or yellow now, although Fulcrum’s blinked back to red as he watched. “What do you think, Pit spawns?” He jiggled the ones on his arms a little. “Should we go see the cows?” There was a chorus of excited buzz-beeps of agreement, which included a few words in Cybertronian and English as the hatchlings tried out their burgeoning language skills.
“OooOOOooo!”
“Cowwowcow!”
“Frag, yeah.”
Barricade kept his face straight with an effort, standing carefully with his squirmy, clingy, happily mooing horde, pausing to let First Aid extract the two still sleepy ones. Frenzy scampered in and out the barn door several times, leading the way. Once outside, the hatchlings grew quiet, flattening against his armor and staring around at the trees and sky with wide optics.
“Their visual acuity and color perception is quite a bit better in the second instar,” First Aid explained as he came to stand next to them. “It’s a big wide world, isn’t it little ones?”
“Bweeeooo,” Starshine agreed, echoed by several of the other hatchlings.
“Come on down, little hatchies!” Frenzy flopped on his back and waved his limbs up at them. “Don’t be robo-chickies hatchy hatchies, chick chick chicks! Brwaaaaaaawk!”
Cautiously at first, the hatchlings clambered down Barricade and began to make small excursions with their funny stumbling crawl-walk locomotion, with Frenzy offering encouragement. They had seemed completely comfortable with the Protectobots and feedings inside the barn, but outside apparently was an entirely different matter. The hatchlings kept a leery distance from all of them except for First Aid. The other four Protectobots, for their part, didn’t try to push the hatchlings past their comfort levels and settled at a non-threatening distance to watch. Hot Spot oh-so-casually filled up a few hatchling feeding cubes and set them on his knees, drawing a few interested glances but no takers for the moment. As the hatchlings grew bolder they ventured to the fenceline separating the cow pasture. Several of them climbed up the fence and mooed, and the cows obligingly ambled over to nose and snuff at the hatchlings curiously, to a chorus of delighted squeak-buzz-giggles.
After the cows and hatchlings had gotten reacquainted and the cows wandered off to continue their grazing, Frenzy led a trail of hatchlings in a game of chase down the driveway. At second instar the hatchlings were still more proportionally designed for climbing and clinging than walking; their mincing, unbalanced steps as they attempted to imitate Frenzy made them look like some sort of drunken conga line. Frenzy slowed enough to be “caught” and was engulfed by the horde. Barricade was impressed - Frenzy held perfectly still as he was thoroughly investigated by a dozen curious hatchlings.
“Careful,” Barricade admonished, coming up next to them. Not that he really thought Frenzy would let himself get damaged, but he knew from experience how sharp hatchling talons could be and Noggin’s talons were right up by Frenzy’s optics.
“Aw, they ain’t hurting me, boss, little hatchies, little noggy woggies.” Frenzy waggled his mandibles in a lopsided grin from underneath Leeway, now leaning on his face and peering closely in his optics. The hatchlings spent the rest of the afternoon exploring, dragging branches around, dragging Frenzy around, watching Streetwise and Groove do a fandango demonstration (several of them bouncing up and down in place or sitting and kicking their limbs about in excited imitation), attempting to pick up grasshoppers and gravel (both of which still usually eluded the dexterity of their hatchling talons, although they were doing better than they had as first instars), and expanding their vocabulary skills with varying degrees of intelligibility and accuracy.
“Codfish,” Fulcrum said distinctly, his expression very serious as he handed Barricade up an ancient plastic cup he’d dragged out of a ditch somewhere. His bent talon had straightened itself sometime during the molt process, Barricade was pleased to see.
“Uh, yeah. Nice. Thanks.” Barricade took the cup and tilted his head back to drop it in his mouth, swallowing the grungy petrochemical morsel. He’d eaten worse.
Fulcrum seemed satisfied with that, and clambered up Barricade’s leg and up to his shoulder and snuggled in, his systems whirring softly. The hatchlings were slowing down at last, it seemed. Several had wandered over to First Aid for energon and were now clinging in various stages of drowsiness. Barricade acquired Toolkit in addition to Fulcrum. Squiggles was edging closer and closer to Hot Spot, eyeing the energon cube. Hot Spot wiggled it enticingly, and Squiggles finally climbed aboard, transforming from pointy and Frenzy-silver to blocky and Hot Spot-blue as he did so.
“Sorry bitlet, this gas station’s full,” Hot Spot said to Pingback, who had also climbed to his knee and was bleeping up at him mournfully. “I don’t have Aid’s fancy hands. I can only feed one at a time, see?”
“Aw, c’mere, little guy,” Groove said, dipping with his long arms to snag one of Hot Spot’s pre-filled cubes.
“Energon, energon!” Pingback squeaked, tumbling and rolling off of Hot Spot in his eagerness and scrambling over to Groove.
“And aren’t you a handsome fellow,” Groove said, as Pingback switched to match Groove’s mostly-black-with-red-trim color scheme. “See if you can hold it by yourself, like this.” Groove, with Blades grinning over his shoulder, watched in satisfaction as Pingback guzzled his cube, gripping it tightly with only a little assistance from Groove controlling the nozzle flow, but Barricade stiffened as their expressions changed suddenly to alertness, all of the Protectobots taking on listening poses, exchanging quick glances and scanning the sky. Blades flared his rotors out briefly, protectively over Groove and the hatchling and settled them back again, but his stance was still defensive, armor and weapons bristling.
“Oh my,” First Aid said, shifting some of his hatchlings so he could stand.
“Ooo?” one of them questioned, sleepily.
“Moo, dearest,” First Aid responded, patting it reassuringly. “Everything’s all right.” Despite his words, First Aid was also scanning the sky, his expression sharply alert.
“What’s going on?” Barricade demanded.
“It looks as if things are going to get interesting very quickly,” First Aid said. Barricade couldn’t tell if the assessing look First Aid was giving him was worried at all or just…assessing. “Galvatron’s re-entered the current space-time stream, and for some reason…he’s heading right for us.”
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