My matress is stuffed with kittens!
Title: The Nine Rings of Vos Interludes
A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: The creation of the greatest Secret Agent Mech that Vos has ever known!
Timeline: To fully understand what the hell this is, please go read this "small" explainationary note. XD
=/=
(In which a new breed of Seeker is created.)
The sparkling shivered against his formatter’s chest plating as the mean mechs stared at them. The emerald Seeker holding the sparkling screamed defiantly at the scientists and mantled his wings to make himself a larger threat, but made no move to close the distance between himself and the grounders, clutching his sparkling protectively as he crouched on the far side of the room.
“How soon can we breed this one again?” One scientist asked another, “The genitor for this one is quite impatient to receive his progeny. Especially after all the trouble with the ensparkment.”
“Hmm. It will be another half vorn at least until we can be certain that the sparkling will remain stable after we separate them break the bond. You know how touchy these Seekers are, their sparks go out over the least little thing.” The other scientist shrugged, “But give it another two, three orns before breeding this one again. This is only its first sparkling, and green is such a rare colour for flyers. I’d like this one to last a bit longer than the others.”
~Fools.~ Basset hissed, clutching his sparkling close. Torn from his home, his family, and denied the sky just after reaching the youngling stage, Basset was well aware of just how ignorant the so-called Seeker Specialists attached to the Sigma Talent Project were. Not a single one of them were even aware of the existence of Seeker-cant, and they were all blissfully ignorant of just how freely their imprisoned subjects conversed. Basset growled until the scientists moved on, then slid down the wall as he turned his attention to his sparkling. Primus, his beautiful sparkling… the only joy left to Basset in this Pit damned life. Even if his sparking had been a nightmare of pain and terror, Basset loved his creation with all the power left in his spark.
~Shh… don’t worry, my little one.~ Basset crooned, rocking his winglet close to his spark, ~I won’t let them take you away, never fear. Matter will give you back to Primus himself before he let’s those nasty groundpounders put their filthy hands on you.~
Basset nuzzled his sparkling, grinning when tiny slate hands reached up for his face, ~I love you so much, winglet… Matter’s sorry you won’t have the chance to find your trine…~
~But neither will I.~ Basset fell silent, optics dimming in grief. He would never know if his sparkling was skyborn or not. He would never see his creation take a mate. Shaking, Basset stroked a trembling hand over his sparkling’s tiny green helm. The part of his spark that waited from his trine, longed for them, ached for not having them. Basset’s spark wailed its loneliness, writhed in an agony of incompleteness. Oh, how he had screamed, the terror and the torment overwhelming thought when the scientists had forced open Basset’s spark chamber, worse when the smirking mech who had paid for the ‘service’ had invaded Basset’s defenceless spark, touching places only Basset’s trinemates should have gone. The rapes had continued clinically, once every six cycles, until Basset no longer had the strength of will to put up even a token resistance. Basset had prayed for the relief of death, or if not that, then for a successful sparking. If only because once they confirmed that he was carrying Basset would be granted a reprieve from his jailors attentions.
Once they were certain that the sparkling was conceived, the scientists were very careful to keep Basset calm, tranquilizing his energon with sedatives and mood stabilizers. Basset suspected that it was only the fact that his sparkling needed interactions with Basset’s own spark to grow properly that prevented the scientists from putting him in stasis until Separation.
Basset knew that he was not the only one of his kin to suffer so, and the echoes of their screams had tortured him, left the green Seeker curled up around his sparkling in one corner of his cell, ashamed of his weakness for giving them what they wanted.
His trine protocols were a constant longing pain as Basset’s spark and programming searched for bonds that did not exist, seeking support that was forever denied to him. Just as it was denied the other Seeker’s who had been taken to this facility with Basset. One had been forced, screaming brokenly, into a slave collar as the smirking mech who had bought him watched the device lock around the frantic cobalt Seeker’s spark chamber. Basset shivered at the memory. He would rather put up with the unending screams then to have had to watch them remove the other Seeker’s wings as the buyer directed the scientists in remoulding the now-broken Seeker’s plating.
Basset wondered which was worse, to hold the sweet memories or freedom even knowing it was denied to them, or to be like the very youngest, unaware of any other way of existing.
There was a muffled ‘whump’, and the cell vibrated, shaking Basset out of his thoughts. The lights flickered once, twice - then a faint fizzle and pop, the acidic scent of burnt wiring - and the door to Basset’s cell opened.
~Got it!~ The pleased exclamation came from a Seeker - russet but for his white face, hands, pedes, wingtips and helmet vents - who was crouched on the other side of the door.
~Good.~ His companion was another Seeker, coloured in umber and tan, who stepped towards Basset and reached out slowly, ~Hey there, no need to be scared. We’re here to get you out.~
~Who?~ Basset asked in bewilderment, clutching his sparkling as he stared wide-opticked at the apparitions before him - it was impossible for this to be happening - Basset shook his head, ~How?~
~No time to be making nice right now, windkin.~ The russet Seeker glanced down the hall with a worried expression, ~We need to get out of here before they break through the collapsed sections.~
~It’ll be fine.~ The umber Seeker reached out again carefully and gently lifted Basset out of his corner, noting with a dark look the way slate thrusters hung uselessly at the end of limp green legs. He spoke softly, reassuringly, ~Don’t be afraid. Trust us, we’ll get you and the little one out of here.~
Basset leaned into the other Seeker gratefully, feeling comforted for the first time in many long vorns, ~Thank you.~
~Our pleasure.~ The russet Seeker said with a wink, then led the way out, his burdened partner following swiftly behind. There were other Seeker’s there, breaking open cells and pulling out the occupants. From the first explosion to the moment the last Seeker in line pulled a removed floor panel back into place to cover their escape through a long-neglected maintenance tunnel, the whole operation had taken less than a breem.
The Seekers marched on in cautious silence for several cycles, and it was not until they left the tunnels and were bundled onto a transport heading straight for Vos territory that Basset found the courage to speak again.
~How did you know where to find us?~ Basset asked, watching as the medic who had been waiting with the transport checked over the rescued Seekers, starting with the youngest sparklings, who just stared silently around at their surroundings with wide optics.
~Does the name Faberge mean anything to you?~ The umber Seeker asked in return, and Basset felt his spark seize.
~… Yes.~ Basset’s optics flickered rapidly as the pain returned. The Seeker who had been mutilated and sold, Basset keened, ~He was my friend.~
~I’m sorry.~ The umber Seeker, still holding Basset in his lap, shifted as he looked down at his own claws, remorse on his face, ~He managed to get a message out with the location of the lab. That, combined with a few surviving creation-bonds to the sparklings that were just taken, was enough for us to manage this break-out.~
~… And Faberge?~ Basset asked softly, already guessing the answer.
~He never told us where to find him.~ The russet Seeker shifted closer, brushing a white hand over Basset’s knee, ~I’m sorry.~
~Primus, watch over him.~ Basset murmured, voice tight with old and new pain.
~He will be remembered. I promise you.~ The umber Seeker said solemnly, and Basset gave him a shaky smile of thanks.
~Er. I don’t mean to break the mood or anything.~ The russet Seeker said gently, ~But, uh, what’s your designation? Do you have any bondkin or wingkin that you want us to contact?~
~Ah, no. They had… methods. That broke any bonds we had.~ Basset shrugged his wings, busying himself with his sparkling, who was whimpering softly the way he always did when he was hungry, ~Do you have any energon? My levels are low and he needs feeding.~
~We came prepared.~ The russet Seeker winked and hopped up to fetch the requested energon. Basset was content to sit and be held, quietly rejoicing in the feeling of another Seeker through the windbond, revelling in feeling the windbond again after so long in isolation. Mere moments later, Basset was presented with a softly glowing pink cube by his grinning russet rescuer, ~Here you go. He’s a cute little winglet. Do you know who his creators are?~
~Thank you.~ Basset said quietly, wings sinking in shame as he answered, ~He’s mine. My sparkling. They… the scientists, they made us - had me, they forced - we had no choice, but…~
The faces of his rescuers had grown steadily more horrified as Basset stumbled over his explanation.
~They… those ground crawling Outsider Pitspawn forced a sparkmerge on you?~ The russet Seeker bared sharp denta, white face twisted in a scowl. He looked ready to leap out of the transport and wreak horrible vengeance on the scientists in question.
Unable to find his voice, Basset just nodded, pulling his sparkling closer protectively as he ran a feeding line into the little ones intake.
~That’s sickening.~ The umber Seeker growled, then looked at both Basset and his russet partner for a long moment before speaking, ~Look, I’m Hart and this is Foxglove. If you’ve got no place else to go, you can stay with us until you get back on your pedes.~
Basset’s head jerked up, his wings flaring as he stared at his rescuers in shock. His trine protocols had gone from nagging him to having full-blown hysterics.
~I… Hart. Foxglove. I’d be honoured to stay with you.~ Basset could see his own surprise reflected in their optics as he gathered his courage and shyly spoke again, ~I am Basset.~
~Basset…~ Foxglove dropped to his knees, reaching out with reverent hands, trembling from pedes to white-tipped wings as his emissions field eagerly quested against Basset’s own spark energy, joy and self-directed guilt lighting his optics, ~Oh Primus… we should have found you sooner.~
~We looked for you.~ Hart said hoarsely, dark umber claws tightening on Basset’s plating, ~That’s why we kept volunteering for these missions. We didn’t want to take the chance that you might be… but you were… they hurt you, and we weren’t there!~
~I… there are worse fates that I could have suffered.~ Basset said, remembering Faberge’s stricken face as control over his spark was handed over to a stranger, the way life had fled his optics as they took his wings. Basset shuddered, ~Far worse fates. I have my freedom. I have my sparkling. You, my trine, have found me. The past can no longer hurt me. Should it try, I will be able to hurt it back.~
~We’ll help.~ Foxglove promised, echoed by Hart, and then grinned - the expression weak, but honest - and stood up again, ~I’m going to go see if the medic can do something about your legs.~
~Thank you.~ Basset sighed and closed the shutters on his optics in exhaustion, leaning against Hart’s chest.
~So why are your legs disabled anyway?~ Hart asked, and the question brought a wicked, self-pleased little smirk to Basset’s face.
I happen to have the lamentable habit of melting the faces off of Outsiders who put their hands where they’re not wanted.~ Basset snorted as he remembered the pure outrage that had fuelled him, activating battle programming that had lain dormant up until that point, ~They quickly learned to disable our legs after that. A pity, I would have liked to scorch a few more.~
~I’ll bet.~ Hart commented as Foxglove walked over with the medic in tow.
Basset’s legs were quickly repaired, and the medic pronounced both the green Seeker and his sparkling were healthy as could be expected. It was a bare cycle after that when the transport arrived at their destination. The aerie was deep within Vos territory, hidden among the ‘uninhabitable’ mountain range that took up the vast majority of the state. The deep canyons and sheer cliffs made the area a deathtrap for ground based Outsiders… but for the Seekers, it was little more than a playground.
In the relative peace of the Vosian hinterlands, Basset received the education and training he had missed out on while imprisoned in the labs. Basset excelled as a tracker, able to trace anyone and anything by the ‘scent’ of their trace energy residue in addition to more conventional means. Having his trine with him for all of it was a dream come true for Basset, sharing their lives and their joy with him as he raised an overly curious sparkling.
~It’s a good thing I can walk through walls.~ Foxglove commented after pulling an excitedly chirping green hatchling out of a turbofox den, ~Otherwise we’d never be able to get him out of all the places the little scraplet gets into.~
Basset loved his trine, loved his creation, loved the life they had together, and he never forgot who had made it all possible. Basset sang for Faberge at every Festival, praying for his lost friend, that he might find salvation. Basset wished with his entire spark that he could bring another sparkling into the world. Yet it was only because of the urgency of Basset’s long denied trine protocols that they had been able to bond at all. Basset’s vorns in the labs, and the very nature of the method used to create his sparkling had left its mark on him… and on his creation.
~Matter?~ The green youngling was frowning as he came up to his creator, rubbing at the plating over his spark chamber, ~I… I don’t feel well.~
~What’s wrong, sparklet?~ Basset asked sympathetically, immediately attentive to his creations needs. No one had been surprised when his forced-sparkling had turned out to be Flightless. Basset had almost been glad. His sparkling would never know the joy of having trine, but neither would the youngling ever suffer for the lack either. Which was why the green Austru’s next words took Basset by such surprise.
~I’m… I feel… empty. Like something’s missing.~ The youngling whined and curled up against his Formatter, ~Like I need to find it - find them - but everywhere I look is wrong.~
~That’s… that’s impossible. We checked.~ Basset bundled his wide opticked youngling to his chest, transmitting across the bond to his trinemates in a panic as he rushed to medical, ~You’re Flightless, but that sounds like trine longing. You’re the right age for it, but you’re Flightless! Oh Primus this is all my fault!~
~Basset, hush! Calm down, love, everything’s fine.~ Foxglove soothed as soon as he arrived, having bolted through the walls to get there faster. Hart was slower, restricted as he was to using doors and hallways.
~But - but my sparkling…~ Basset keened in distress, hovering over his creation until Hart pulled him away to let the medic work, ~If - if something’s wrong with his codes or - or with his spark than it’s my fault! Primus what do I do?~
~You calm down.~ Hart said firmly, ~Everything will be fine.~
~So what’s the verdict, winglet?~ Foxglove asked when a much-subdued youngling wiggled into the centre of their circle seeking comfort. The adults had been too occupied with either panicking or calming said panic to eavesdrop on the examination.
~I’ve got active trine protocols.~ The youngling said glumly, looking upset and burying himself in his parent’s arms, ~But the Medic said I’m Flightless still. No sky-hunger. No flight programs. Just the trine thing. Only the Medic thinks it’s ‘cause of how I was sparked. So I might not even have trinemates, just the protocols, or my trinemates are freaks like me, but that means that they’re probably in a lab somewhere or got sold off to Outsiders the way I was supposed to be!~
~You’re not a freak!~ Basset growled, clutching his creation to his chest like the youngling was a tiny sparkling again. They had never hidden the truth from the youngling. It would have been impossible, what with everyone at the aerie knowing about it or sharing a similar story. But they had done their best to make him understand that it did not matter how he had come to be, they loved him anyway. Basset fussed over his upset youngling, ~I’ll beat anyone who dares tell you different!~
~So…~ Foxglove ventured as they stood there with their arms around each other, ~What do we do now?~
~We’ll send a report to the High Tower.~ Hart said after a moment of thought, ~And then get on with our lives.~
~What if I…~ The youngling could not continue.
~Even if - Primus forbid - you don’t have any trinemates, you’re a wonderful young mech.~ Basset said firmly, ~And any Seeker should be so lucky as to call you mate. You’ll find someone - or several! But they’ll never, ever be good enough for you, sparklet.~
Life did, indeed, continue on for the family. Their youngling graduated from the Academy, finished his training. A Winglord trine appeared, and took their place as they Eye of the Storm. A civil war began, and looked ready to spread out over the whole of Cybertron.
Against Basset’s pleas and the arguments of Foxglove and Hart, their now grown creation presented himself at the High Tower when the Elite Trine asked for volunteers to infiltrate the forces opposing the rebellion.
~So tell me.~ The Winglord trine leader Starscream asked the green Seeker - and how strange it was that the leader of his people was of an age with he! - Starscream tapped a claw on his desk, ~Why would you volunteer for this mission? You know that there’s no telling how long it will last for. You could be stuck out there among Outsider’s until you deactivate. This is war. There’s a chance that you could die on this mission.~
~I choose to do this, Winglord, because you need unbonded Seekers for this mission. To many are suspicious of trines and flyers already, so you need single Flightless.~ The green Seeker listed, facing his leader squarely, ~Because as a Tracker and Scout, I won’t raise much suspicion, but will still be well placed to lead the Autobot forces about at your command to bring their attention away - or towards - locations and situations of your choosing. Because I need to do something to help. But mostly, my Lord, because I’m a Land-skimmer, and my best chances of ever finding my trinemates lies with a position outside of Vos, and within the camp of those who are mostly likely to hold them.~
~I see.~ Starscream said, knowing that Land-skimmer’s - those rare Flightless who had active trine protocols - were just as driven as their skyborn kin to find their trinemates. If this Seeker believed that his best chances to find those mates were found in this mission, Starscream would be hard pressed to deny him the chance. Starscream cycled a sigh, but nodded, ~Very well. Commander Jetfire will be informed of your deployment. He will have a place ready for you in the Autobot camp.~
~Thank you, Lord Starscream.~ The green tracker grinned.
~Just don’t get caught. Now go to medical for your disguise.~ Starscream said in dismissal, then just as the green Austru stood up, said softly, ~I wish you luck in your you mission, as well as in your search, Agent Hound.~
~I’m a Tracker Seeker, my Lord.~ Hound said with the disarming smile he had inherited from his formatter, ~Searching - and finding - is what I do best!~
(Word Count: 3372)
=/=
Bwah. Ha. Ha. XD
So tell me truthfully, how many of you knew who it was before the big reveal at the end? And how many of you considered it then went, "Naw, it couldn't be!" This Interlude is dedicated to katsuko 'cause she lemme borrow her bunny and thinks I'm cool. ^_^ Plus, she asked me nicely for Land-skimmer fic. As it was, I was waffling on whether or not should post this now... but what the hell. It's not like there's a whole lot of suspense about this fic anyway. >.>
IRL is kind of like a Little House on the Prarie episode for me right now. My Mum wants the house fixed up so we can sell it and buy a farm. (No. Not the farm. A farm.) The ranch I'm kinda working at had to put down one of the horses this Tuesday. It was really rather sad, but Stormy had heaves, and couldn't eat she had so much trouble breathing. She went gently, and we stayed with her until she was gone. She's buried out in the hill behind the ranch with the rest of the horses who have passed away. It was interesting that it started to rain as soon as the needle went in. Pathetic fallacy much? And my pregnant cat is no longer pregnant! She had five kittens yesterday. One orange tabby-stripe, one grey tabby-stripe, a tortishell, and two blacks. She then promptly moved them out of the nest in the closet we made for her and into my box-spring. My bed mews and purrs. (But before anyone freaks out, the box spring is literally that, a box covered in fabric to let the matress breathe. So there are no squished kittens happening any time soon.)
And now, dragons! My Tiny, Translucent and Hyper have hatched, and I managed to breed a Red Striped! (The Red Dorsal still eludes me though, curse it!)
~*~
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A Transformers G1 Fanfic
Author: Sanjuno Shori Niko
Summary: The creation of the greatest Secret Agent Mech that Vos has ever known!
Timeline: To fully understand what the hell this is, please go read this "small" explainationary note. XD
=/=
(In which a new breed of Seeker is created.)
The sparkling shivered against his formatter’s chest plating as the mean mechs stared at them. The emerald Seeker holding the sparkling screamed defiantly at the scientists and mantled his wings to make himself a larger threat, but made no move to close the distance between himself and the grounders, clutching his sparkling protectively as he crouched on the far side of the room.
“How soon can we breed this one again?” One scientist asked another, “The genitor for this one is quite impatient to receive his progeny. Especially after all the trouble with the ensparkment.”
“Hmm. It will be another half vorn at least until we can be certain that the sparkling will remain stable after we separate them break the bond. You know how touchy these Seekers are, their sparks go out over the least little thing.” The other scientist shrugged, “But give it another two, three orns before breeding this one again. This is only its first sparkling, and green is such a rare colour for flyers. I’d like this one to last a bit longer than the others.”
~Fools.~ Basset hissed, clutching his sparkling close. Torn from his home, his family, and denied the sky just after reaching the youngling stage, Basset was well aware of just how ignorant the so-called Seeker Specialists attached to the Sigma Talent Project were. Not a single one of them were even aware of the existence of Seeker-cant, and they were all blissfully ignorant of just how freely their imprisoned subjects conversed. Basset growled until the scientists moved on, then slid down the wall as he turned his attention to his sparkling. Primus, his beautiful sparkling… the only joy left to Basset in this Pit damned life. Even if his sparking had been a nightmare of pain and terror, Basset loved his creation with all the power left in his spark.
~Shh… don’t worry, my little one.~ Basset crooned, rocking his winglet close to his spark, ~I won’t let them take you away, never fear. Matter will give you back to Primus himself before he let’s those nasty groundpounders put their filthy hands on you.~
Basset nuzzled his sparkling, grinning when tiny slate hands reached up for his face, ~I love you so much, winglet… Matter’s sorry you won’t have the chance to find your trine…~
~But neither will I.~ Basset fell silent, optics dimming in grief. He would never know if his sparkling was skyborn or not. He would never see his creation take a mate. Shaking, Basset stroked a trembling hand over his sparkling’s tiny green helm. The part of his spark that waited from his trine, longed for them, ached for not having them. Basset’s spark wailed its loneliness, writhed in an agony of incompleteness. Oh, how he had screamed, the terror and the torment overwhelming thought when the scientists had forced open Basset’s spark chamber, worse when the smirking mech who had paid for the ‘service’ had invaded Basset’s defenceless spark, touching places only Basset’s trinemates should have gone. The rapes had continued clinically, once every six cycles, until Basset no longer had the strength of will to put up even a token resistance. Basset had prayed for the relief of death, or if not that, then for a successful sparking. If only because once they confirmed that he was carrying Basset would be granted a reprieve from his jailors attentions.
Once they were certain that the sparkling was conceived, the scientists were very careful to keep Basset calm, tranquilizing his energon with sedatives and mood stabilizers. Basset suspected that it was only the fact that his sparkling needed interactions with Basset’s own spark to grow properly that prevented the scientists from putting him in stasis until Separation.
Basset knew that he was not the only one of his kin to suffer so, and the echoes of their screams had tortured him, left the green Seeker curled up around his sparkling in one corner of his cell, ashamed of his weakness for giving them what they wanted.
His trine protocols were a constant longing pain as Basset’s spark and programming searched for bonds that did not exist, seeking support that was forever denied to him. Just as it was denied the other Seeker’s who had been taken to this facility with Basset. One had been forced, screaming brokenly, into a slave collar as the smirking mech who had bought him watched the device lock around the frantic cobalt Seeker’s spark chamber. Basset shivered at the memory. He would rather put up with the unending screams then to have had to watch them remove the other Seeker’s wings as the buyer directed the scientists in remoulding the now-broken Seeker’s plating.
Basset wondered which was worse, to hold the sweet memories or freedom even knowing it was denied to them, or to be like the very youngest, unaware of any other way of existing.
There was a muffled ‘whump’, and the cell vibrated, shaking Basset out of his thoughts. The lights flickered once, twice - then a faint fizzle and pop, the acidic scent of burnt wiring - and the door to Basset’s cell opened.
~Got it!~ The pleased exclamation came from a Seeker - russet but for his white face, hands, pedes, wingtips and helmet vents - who was crouched on the other side of the door.
~Good.~ His companion was another Seeker, coloured in umber and tan, who stepped towards Basset and reached out slowly, ~Hey there, no need to be scared. We’re here to get you out.~
~Who?~ Basset asked in bewilderment, clutching his sparkling as he stared wide-opticked at the apparitions before him - it was impossible for this to be happening - Basset shook his head, ~How?~
~No time to be making nice right now, windkin.~ The russet Seeker glanced down the hall with a worried expression, ~We need to get out of here before they break through the collapsed sections.~
~It’ll be fine.~ The umber Seeker reached out again carefully and gently lifted Basset out of his corner, noting with a dark look the way slate thrusters hung uselessly at the end of limp green legs. He spoke softly, reassuringly, ~Don’t be afraid. Trust us, we’ll get you and the little one out of here.~
Basset leaned into the other Seeker gratefully, feeling comforted for the first time in many long vorns, ~Thank you.~
~Our pleasure.~ The russet Seeker said with a wink, then led the way out, his burdened partner following swiftly behind. There were other Seeker’s there, breaking open cells and pulling out the occupants. From the first explosion to the moment the last Seeker in line pulled a removed floor panel back into place to cover their escape through a long-neglected maintenance tunnel, the whole operation had taken less than a breem.
The Seekers marched on in cautious silence for several cycles, and it was not until they left the tunnels and were bundled onto a transport heading straight for Vos territory that Basset found the courage to speak again.
~How did you know where to find us?~ Basset asked, watching as the medic who had been waiting with the transport checked over the rescued Seekers, starting with the youngest sparklings, who just stared silently around at their surroundings with wide optics.
~Does the name Faberge mean anything to you?~ The umber Seeker asked in return, and Basset felt his spark seize.
~… Yes.~ Basset’s optics flickered rapidly as the pain returned. The Seeker who had been mutilated and sold, Basset keened, ~He was my friend.~
~I’m sorry.~ The umber Seeker, still holding Basset in his lap, shifted as he looked down at his own claws, remorse on his face, ~He managed to get a message out with the location of the lab. That, combined with a few surviving creation-bonds to the sparklings that were just taken, was enough for us to manage this break-out.~
~… And Faberge?~ Basset asked softly, already guessing the answer.
~He never told us where to find him.~ The russet Seeker shifted closer, brushing a white hand over Basset’s knee, ~I’m sorry.~
~Primus, watch over him.~ Basset murmured, voice tight with old and new pain.
~He will be remembered. I promise you.~ The umber Seeker said solemnly, and Basset gave him a shaky smile of thanks.
~Er. I don’t mean to break the mood or anything.~ The russet Seeker said gently, ~But, uh, what’s your designation? Do you have any bondkin or wingkin that you want us to contact?~
~Ah, no. They had… methods. That broke any bonds we had.~ Basset shrugged his wings, busying himself with his sparkling, who was whimpering softly the way he always did when he was hungry, ~Do you have any energon? My levels are low and he needs feeding.~
~We came prepared.~ The russet Seeker winked and hopped up to fetch the requested energon. Basset was content to sit and be held, quietly rejoicing in the feeling of another Seeker through the windbond, revelling in feeling the windbond again after so long in isolation. Mere moments later, Basset was presented with a softly glowing pink cube by his grinning russet rescuer, ~Here you go. He’s a cute little winglet. Do you know who his creators are?~
~Thank you.~ Basset said quietly, wings sinking in shame as he answered, ~He’s mine. My sparkling. They… the scientists, they made us - had me, they forced - we had no choice, but…~
The faces of his rescuers had grown steadily more horrified as Basset stumbled over his explanation.
~They… those ground crawling Outsider Pitspawn forced a sparkmerge on you?~ The russet Seeker bared sharp denta, white face twisted in a scowl. He looked ready to leap out of the transport and wreak horrible vengeance on the scientists in question.
Unable to find his voice, Basset just nodded, pulling his sparkling closer protectively as he ran a feeding line into the little ones intake.
~That’s sickening.~ The umber Seeker growled, then looked at both Basset and his russet partner for a long moment before speaking, ~Look, I’m Hart and this is Foxglove. If you’ve got no place else to go, you can stay with us until you get back on your pedes.~
Basset’s head jerked up, his wings flaring as he stared at his rescuers in shock. His trine protocols had gone from nagging him to having full-blown hysterics.
~I… Hart. Foxglove. I’d be honoured to stay with you.~ Basset could see his own surprise reflected in their optics as he gathered his courage and shyly spoke again, ~I am Basset.~
~Basset…~ Foxglove dropped to his knees, reaching out with reverent hands, trembling from pedes to white-tipped wings as his emissions field eagerly quested against Basset’s own spark energy, joy and self-directed guilt lighting his optics, ~Oh Primus… we should have found you sooner.~
~We looked for you.~ Hart said hoarsely, dark umber claws tightening on Basset’s plating, ~That’s why we kept volunteering for these missions. We didn’t want to take the chance that you might be… but you were… they hurt you, and we weren’t there!~
~I… there are worse fates that I could have suffered.~ Basset said, remembering Faberge’s stricken face as control over his spark was handed over to a stranger, the way life had fled his optics as they took his wings. Basset shuddered, ~Far worse fates. I have my freedom. I have my sparkling. You, my trine, have found me. The past can no longer hurt me. Should it try, I will be able to hurt it back.~
~We’ll help.~ Foxglove promised, echoed by Hart, and then grinned - the expression weak, but honest - and stood up again, ~I’m going to go see if the medic can do something about your legs.~
~Thank you.~ Basset sighed and closed the shutters on his optics in exhaustion, leaning against Hart’s chest.
~So why are your legs disabled anyway?~ Hart asked, and the question brought a wicked, self-pleased little smirk to Basset’s face.
I happen to have the lamentable habit of melting the faces off of Outsiders who put their hands where they’re not wanted.~ Basset snorted as he remembered the pure outrage that had fuelled him, activating battle programming that had lain dormant up until that point, ~They quickly learned to disable our legs after that. A pity, I would have liked to scorch a few more.~
~I’ll bet.~ Hart commented as Foxglove walked over with the medic in tow.
Basset’s legs were quickly repaired, and the medic pronounced both the green Seeker and his sparkling were healthy as could be expected. It was a bare cycle after that when the transport arrived at their destination. The aerie was deep within Vos territory, hidden among the ‘uninhabitable’ mountain range that took up the vast majority of the state. The deep canyons and sheer cliffs made the area a deathtrap for ground based Outsiders… but for the Seekers, it was little more than a playground.
In the relative peace of the Vosian hinterlands, Basset received the education and training he had missed out on while imprisoned in the labs. Basset excelled as a tracker, able to trace anyone and anything by the ‘scent’ of their trace energy residue in addition to more conventional means. Having his trine with him for all of it was a dream come true for Basset, sharing their lives and their joy with him as he raised an overly curious sparkling.
~It’s a good thing I can walk through walls.~ Foxglove commented after pulling an excitedly chirping green hatchling out of a turbofox den, ~Otherwise we’d never be able to get him out of all the places the little scraplet gets into.~
Basset loved his trine, loved his creation, loved the life they had together, and he never forgot who had made it all possible. Basset sang for Faberge at every Festival, praying for his lost friend, that he might find salvation. Basset wished with his entire spark that he could bring another sparkling into the world. Yet it was only because of the urgency of Basset’s long denied trine protocols that they had been able to bond at all. Basset’s vorns in the labs, and the very nature of the method used to create his sparkling had left its mark on him… and on his creation.
~Matter?~ The green youngling was frowning as he came up to his creator, rubbing at the plating over his spark chamber, ~I… I don’t feel well.~
~What’s wrong, sparklet?~ Basset asked sympathetically, immediately attentive to his creations needs. No one had been surprised when his forced-sparkling had turned out to be Flightless. Basset had almost been glad. His sparkling would never know the joy of having trine, but neither would the youngling ever suffer for the lack either. Which was why the green Austru’s next words took Basset by such surprise.
~I’m… I feel… empty. Like something’s missing.~ The youngling whined and curled up against his Formatter, ~Like I need to find it - find them - but everywhere I look is wrong.~
~That’s… that’s impossible. We checked.~ Basset bundled his wide opticked youngling to his chest, transmitting across the bond to his trinemates in a panic as he rushed to medical, ~You’re Flightless, but that sounds like trine longing. You’re the right age for it, but you’re Flightless! Oh Primus this is all my fault!~
~Basset, hush! Calm down, love, everything’s fine.~ Foxglove soothed as soon as he arrived, having bolted through the walls to get there faster. Hart was slower, restricted as he was to using doors and hallways.
~But - but my sparkling…~ Basset keened in distress, hovering over his creation until Hart pulled him away to let the medic work, ~If - if something’s wrong with his codes or - or with his spark than it’s my fault! Primus what do I do?~
~You calm down.~ Hart said firmly, ~Everything will be fine.~
~So what’s the verdict, winglet?~ Foxglove asked when a much-subdued youngling wiggled into the centre of their circle seeking comfort. The adults had been too occupied with either panicking or calming said panic to eavesdrop on the examination.
~I’ve got active trine protocols.~ The youngling said glumly, looking upset and burying himself in his parent’s arms, ~But the Medic said I’m Flightless still. No sky-hunger. No flight programs. Just the trine thing. Only the Medic thinks it’s ‘cause of how I was sparked. So I might not even have trinemates, just the protocols, or my trinemates are freaks like me, but that means that they’re probably in a lab somewhere or got sold off to Outsiders the way I was supposed to be!~
~You’re not a freak!~ Basset growled, clutching his creation to his chest like the youngling was a tiny sparkling again. They had never hidden the truth from the youngling. It would have been impossible, what with everyone at the aerie knowing about it or sharing a similar story. But they had done their best to make him understand that it did not matter how he had come to be, they loved him anyway. Basset fussed over his upset youngling, ~I’ll beat anyone who dares tell you different!~
~So…~ Foxglove ventured as they stood there with their arms around each other, ~What do we do now?~
~We’ll send a report to the High Tower.~ Hart said after a moment of thought, ~And then get on with our lives.~
~What if I…~ The youngling could not continue.
~Even if - Primus forbid - you don’t have any trinemates, you’re a wonderful young mech.~ Basset said firmly, ~And any Seeker should be so lucky as to call you mate. You’ll find someone - or several! But they’ll never, ever be good enough for you, sparklet.~
Life did, indeed, continue on for the family. Their youngling graduated from the Academy, finished his training. A Winglord trine appeared, and took their place as they Eye of the Storm. A civil war began, and looked ready to spread out over the whole of Cybertron.
Against Basset’s pleas and the arguments of Foxglove and Hart, their now grown creation presented himself at the High Tower when the Elite Trine asked for volunteers to infiltrate the forces opposing the rebellion.
~So tell me.~ The Winglord trine leader Starscream asked the green Seeker - and how strange it was that the leader of his people was of an age with he! - Starscream tapped a claw on his desk, ~Why would you volunteer for this mission? You know that there’s no telling how long it will last for. You could be stuck out there among Outsider’s until you deactivate. This is war. There’s a chance that you could die on this mission.~
~I choose to do this, Winglord, because you need unbonded Seekers for this mission. To many are suspicious of trines and flyers already, so you need single Flightless.~ The green Seeker listed, facing his leader squarely, ~Because as a Tracker and Scout, I won’t raise much suspicion, but will still be well placed to lead the Autobot forces about at your command to bring their attention away - or towards - locations and situations of your choosing. Because I need to do something to help. But mostly, my Lord, because I’m a Land-skimmer, and my best chances of ever finding my trinemates lies with a position outside of Vos, and within the camp of those who are mostly likely to hold them.~
~I see.~ Starscream said, knowing that Land-skimmer’s - those rare Flightless who had active trine protocols - were just as driven as their skyborn kin to find their trinemates. If this Seeker believed that his best chances to find those mates were found in this mission, Starscream would be hard pressed to deny him the chance. Starscream cycled a sigh, but nodded, ~Very well. Commander Jetfire will be informed of your deployment. He will have a place ready for you in the Autobot camp.~
~Thank you, Lord Starscream.~ The green tracker grinned.
~Just don’t get caught. Now go to medical for your disguise.~ Starscream said in dismissal, then just as the green Austru stood up, said softly, ~I wish you luck in your you mission, as well as in your search, Agent Hound.~
~I’m a Tracker Seeker, my Lord.~ Hound said with the disarming smile he had inherited from his formatter, ~Searching - and finding - is what I do best!~
(Word Count: 3372)
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Bwah. Ha. Ha. XD
So tell me truthfully, how many of you knew who it was before the big reveal at the end? And how many of you considered it then went, "Naw, it couldn't be!" This Interlude is dedicated to katsuko 'cause she lemme borrow her bunny and thinks I'm cool. ^_^ Plus, she asked me nicely for Land-skimmer fic. As it was, I was waffling on whether or not should post this now... but what the hell. It's not like there's a whole lot of suspense about this fic anyway. >.>
IRL is kind of like a Little House on the Prarie episode for me right now. My Mum wants the house fixed up so we can sell it and buy a farm. (No. Not the farm. A farm.) The ranch I'm kinda working at had to put down one of the horses this Tuesday. It was really rather sad, but Stormy had heaves, and couldn't eat she had so much trouble breathing. She went gently, and we stayed with her until she was gone. She's buried out in the hill behind the ranch with the rest of the horses who have passed away. It was interesting that it started to rain as soon as the needle went in. Pathetic fallacy much? And my pregnant cat is no longer pregnant! She had five kittens yesterday. One orange tabby-stripe, one grey tabby-stripe, a tortishell, and two blacks. She then promptly moved them out of the nest in the closet we made for her and into my box-spring. My bed mews and purrs. (But before anyone freaks out, the box spring is literally that, a box covered in fabric to let the matress breathe. So there are no squished kittens happening any time soon.)
And now, dragons! My Tiny, Translucent and Hyper have hatched, and I managed to breed a Red Striped! (The Red Dorsal still eludes me though, curse it!)
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