Chapter Text
Optics shuttered open, blinking a few times before projecting a pale yellow glow. The focal point darted around hazily before landing on the only other sparked presence.
Their engines stuttered and clicked before idling to a content rumble. Dark grey arms reached towards the jet haphazardly. The sparkling squirmed as much as they were able, eventually huffing as the insulation tarp caught on their pedes.
A frown marred the bitlet’s face, their servos clenching and unclenching with pent up frustration. Having no other options, the sparkling let out an indignant beep before wriggling for freedom again.
They were so young. Their optics couldn't have been online for more than a few days. Their systems should still be calibrating. Their creators should have the sparkling nestled in a warm embrace.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion yet all too quickly. Before Thundercracker knew it, the new spark was cradled in his arms. Tiny dark grey limbs pulling at plating and drifting over seams.
It was too early to have a proper frame, unmistakably round with small wheels on the backs of their pedes. His dark grey servos hesitated, ghosting over their facial plating.
Carefully he maneuvered the smaller frame around, checking for injury. What was a healthy sparkling even meant to look like? What was he meant to do now that he held the sparkling? Was he even holding it correctly?
:Thundercracker status report:
His trine leader’s comm broke his train of thought. Adjusting the bitlet to an upright position, pressed against his cockpit, his comm flicked to active.
:Reporting in:
Frag. How was he supposed to breach the subject? It was clear he couldn't just leave it. At this stage sparklings are heavily dependent on their creators. Looking at the state of decomposition of their parental frame, the sparkling wouldn't have lasted longer than a few days.
:Something came up. The warehouse has been cleared. I'll debrief further upon my arrival:
A small and warm intake gnawed at his turbine, oral lubricant smearing on his frame. The small thing was undoubtedly going hungry and the jet had no idea when their last meal was. Or even what fuel was suitable. Dull denta scraped fruitlessly at grey plating. Maybe his worries about scraplets weren't too far from the truth.
:Copy that, Starscream out:
Small grey servos smeared blearily at his golden cockpit. Their engine gave a small whirl as they squished themselves to the new heat source, Thundercracker's engine having kicked up at his internal spiraling.
To be honest, Thundercracker was at a complete loss. He's a cold construct for Primus’ sake. Never once did he have the chance to have a proper childhood. Robbed of the chance to grow up surrounded by siblings, of existing in the safety of a familial flock.
As soon as his spark was placed into his frame, he was ushered into the military academy with all others of his frame type. There they were tested and pushed to failure, weeding out those without outliers. Every other spark was competition, one more frame to eliminate, to secure fleeting safety.
Now, pressed against his chest, lay the very antithesis of his early onlining. Shifting the sparkling so it was now held in the crook of his arm, Thundercracker gently undid his control cabinet locks. Luckily the sparkling was small enough to fit comfortably in the confined space. Its bright optics just visible through the translucent glass.
“You're okay little one. It's just for a little while” If he was being honest, the reassurance was more for the seeker than the sparkling. “Star’s gonna be so pissed.” Absently his dark grey hand ran back and forth over his cockpit, trying to soothe the newspark further.
Idling his engine Thundercracker forced his frame to let out a rumbling purr, hoping desperately the sound would lull it back to recharge. He could feel the small and steadily warming frame wriggle in an attempt to get comfortable, pushing against his barren cockpit interior. Eventually the protoform yawned, curling in before offlining their optics.
With his attention now free the jet looked back at the desolate frame. There was nothing he could do. No reassurance to be offered. War was unforgiving, evidence rested before his optics.
Turning back towards the way he came, the seeker let out a shaken vent. Air simmered under his slowly igniting thrusters as the blue mech propelled out of the warehouse and into a transformation sequence.
Too many sparks had been taken by his servos. This would be the spark to change that.
○ ☆ ○
Times like this really made Thundercracker envious of his trinemate’s outlier ability. What he would give to trade abilities with his black and purple counterpart. Instead he was stuck with a too loud engine that always managed to kick up at the worst of times.
Dark grey thrusters clicked hurriedly on the cool metal of the Nemesis, accompanied by the droning sound of his engine. If he focused hard enough the jet could almost pretend the low rumbling was coming from the ancient ship instead of his own internals.
Only a few more turns and he could finally vent freely. Most mechs he passed were too engrossed on their own tasks to care for his passing. Some of the more rowdy bunch let out a few beers about Thundercracker being high strung and needing to blow off some charge.
The jet was trying his hardest to remain impassive but the secrecy of the situation was starting to get to him. Attempting to even his vents proved ineffective, the closer the con got, the more antsy he became.
A smaller, now comfortably warm frame wriggled in his cockpit, demanding to be acknowledged. Silently the jet thanked Primus and whatever other forgotten gods were listening for the sparkling's eye color being similar to that of his glass.
The hab suites in the high command quarters were in less of a disarray, decent lighting helping to offset the slight internal glow.
Absently Thundercracker wondered how the grounders' traits compared to that of seekers. Would the sparkling crave the outside air, wind brushing their sensors; or would they yearn for soil and grit crunching under their treads?
After being cooped up for however long their creator had been offline, it truly was a marvel they remained so docile in such a similar situation. Perhaps gounders had an affinity to enclosed spaces?
Finally the lock pad for their shared hab appeared as he was faced in front of their door. Quickly inputting his code the seeker stepped into the room, listening to the door clunk shut behind him. After settling to the sound of the automatic locks, Thundercracker vented out a pressurized hiss.
As calm as he could manage, hesitant servos released his cockpit, bracing to catch the sparkling in case they decided they could fly.
Seeing open servos, the bitlet crawled forward, falling into his waiting hold. Taking in their new surroundings the sparkling let out a curious rumble.
Sighing again Thundercracker took in the room around them. The berth was scattered with blankets of different textures and sizes, Starscream insisted that they were vital to a seekers health. Data pads lay stacked haphazardly across their desk, a few having fallen to the floor.
Scrap metal and weapons dotted around the room, engrossing Thundercracker in a mental eye-spy for dangerous objects that would need to be moved from the new spark.
Decorative paint, liquid and pressurized, were stacked against a far wall. Thundercracker had attempted to organize his trinemates' things after he kept tripping over them in the middle of the off cycle.
The blue jet's personal data pad was kept on a berthside table along with a lamp and other reading material Thundercracker read in his spare time.
Making his way to the bed, the seeker carefully adjusted the blankets while keeping one arm firmly on the sparkling. The small charge was enamored by all the new sights, blinking repeatedly to adjust to the current input.
Pillows and excess padding were arranged in a horseshoe shape, with the open end closed off by the head board, or in this case, the wall. Blankets then reinforced the constructed shape with the softest ones being placed in the middle.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Thundercracker placed the grounder onto the plush fabric. The dark protoform frowned up at him in great offense. Their engine started to whine pitifully and they appeared to be charging up to wail.
Quickly the jet hushed them, projecting affection and safety through his field. Sitting down next to the smaller frame he shuffled before settling to lay next to them. His servo came out to rest over their chassis, rubbing gently as their whine settled down.
Curling around the bitlet protectively, Thundercracker reached for his data pad, mindful not to disturb the calming bot. Silently he thanked his trine leader before pulling up articles on sparkling care.
○ ☆ ○
Satisfied with his information the larger bot sat up, stretching out his back strut with a few creaks and pops. His new companion had drifted into recharge, snuggled against Thundercracker’s side, small servos clutched against his abdominal plating.
Bitlets of this age and side would need filtered engeron heavy with mineral additives to simulate health plating development. Additionally creators could feed the sparklings from internal engeron lines through the help of specialized ports. These ports were present on all bots but didn't activate unless a parental bond was formed.
The sparkling in his possession was still in their first frame. Very little solid plating was present and color nanites had yet to form, leaving the sparkling their monotonous protoform pigment.
Looking down at their sleeping and helpless frame, Thundercracker couldnt help but feel he made the right choice. Their little spark was so trusting, so vulnerable, and they were left to die.
Swinging his legs off the berth, TC made his way over to their personal engeron dispenser. Drawing a medium sized cube the jet leaned down opening a lower compartment. After ruffling around for a bit he found the needed supplements before adding a generous amount.
The glowing pink fluid swirled as Thundercracker rotated it slightly, mixing into a purple hue. His pedes clicked as he made his way back to the berth. Relishing in a moment of reprive, the seeked gently woke the sleeping vehicle.
In return the jet received a bleary beep as the smaller mech rebooted slowly. Once their optics cycled back online they instantly locked onto the energon. Multiple fast paced beeps were let out as rounded arms grabbed out relentlessly.
A twinge of regret shot through Thundercracker's spark. Sure he didn't know what a sparkling could safely ingest but he knew they were hungry, going far too long without fuel intake.
Scooping the bitlet up into his arms, the seeker adjusted them as the articles advised, careful to raise their helm. With a steady servo the blue mech began fueling the smaller form, careful to pull back every few gulps to prevent regurgitation or poor intake leading to venting of the liquid.
Consumed by the small life in his arms, Thundercracker paid no mind to the familiar sound of his trine mates signature vop.