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Age of the Machine (Market Comodity 3)	By : Scienceteacher Category: Transformers > G1 > Round Robins Views: 6356 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers/Hasbro, Am not making a dime off of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A.o.M. part 1
- 2-A.o.M. 2
- 3-A.o.M 3
- 4-A.oM.4
- 5-AoM 5
- 6-AoM 6
- 7-AoM 7
- 8-AoM 8
- 9-AoM 8-1/2
- 10-AoM 9
- 11-AoM 10
- 12-AoM 11
- 13-AoM 12
- 14-Once upon a time
- 15-AoM 13
- 16-AoM 14
- 17-AoM 15
- 18-AoM 16
- 19-AoM 17
- 20-Family Ties
- 21-AoM 18
- 22-Family Ties Pt 2
- 23-AoM19
- 24-Family Ties Pt 3
- 25-AoM 20
- 26-Family Ties Pt 4
- 27-AoM 21
- 28-AOM 22
- 17
- 18
- 19
*Age of the Machine part 16*
*Written by StSE; Universes G1/BW/TFA*

Note: Thanks to the ever detail oriented kuroikitsu for bringing things up that I didn’t even pause to consider. Makes my chapters longer and longer as I consider them.

This chapter’s running concurrently with the ’86 G1 movie. The real mechs are now at the time period where HotRod is transformed into Rodimus in order to defeat Galvatron.

-------

“I’m sick of this! All of this!” Charge snarled as he spun around. Slamming the door behind him, he stood menacingly in front of it as if daring the two to try to get past him.

“Sick of what?” Scream asked with an innocent smile gracing his lips.

Doc moved between the two, his urge to maintain the peace making him ignore the possible danger. He was tired of Charge brooding – tired of Scream acting flippant and innocent. But now wasn’t the time. Charge was too agitated to process straight right now. If anything – it would get violent. “Charge, not now. Not while your frustrated. Maybe we should..”

“Shut up Doc. This is between me – and Scream,” the hybrid growled. His optics narrowed, turning from their normal blue to a strange purple as his Decepticon battle processor clicked on.

Stubbornly, the First Aid clone stood his ground. “I’m your mate – he’s our mate – so this involves all of us! And I say that now is not the time!”

The red Seeker took advantage of the medic standing between him and the powerful ground commander. Draping his arms over Doc’s white shoulder plates, he set his chin on one of them. “Yeah Charge, listen to Doc why don’t you?” The innocent expression on his façade was perfect, which only served to piss Charge off more.

“Damn you Scream! I took you in when no one wanted you! I gave you myself… I even shared Doc! And this is how you show your gratitude!” If it weren’t for the medic standing between them, Charge would’ve had a hard time not swinging at the Seeker for his act of total innocence. His Onslaught battle processor screamed at him to go after him – battling with his Prime meta processor that was screaming equally as loud to contain his anger. Confusion racked his powerful form. Confusion mixing with the sense of bitter betrayal – mixing with the sense of sheer disgust with his fellow Prime model…

“And I gave you a son. Isn’t that gratitude enough?” Scream replied sweetly. He cocked his helm, giving his fellow commander a quizzical look, as if he still had no clue as to why in the world his mate would be angry.

“Would you just quit the innocent act for once?” Doc pleaded, “You know exactly whom he’s referring to.”

The red Seeker snickered sarcastically, his optics glittering mischievously. If Rumble had seen him at that moment – he’d have sworn it was the real Starscream egging on Megatron. “The clone I’ve never been with – or my ex that wants me back?” he taunted. Opie might be acting patient as everyone kept telling him to – but Scream was getting tired of it all. If his love wouldn’t face Charge – then he’d just have to – somehow. Somehow he’d figure out how to break this relationship off…

“Why you…” Charge moved forward menacingly, his battle processor edging out his meta processor for control.

Doc held his hands in front of him, warding the powerful hybrid off. “Charge – just calm down would you?”

“Why should I? He’s done nothing but use us! And now he’s going to shame us!” The hybrid tried to get around the First Aid clone in order to get his hands on Scream. All he could envision was the wimpy young Prime clone slagging him. And it was driving him to jealous rage!

Turning so that Scream stayed behind him and Charge in front of him, Doc continued to try and be the peace keeper. He could feel Scream shaking ever so slightly. Was the Seeker a touch afraid of this confrontation? If so, why in the heck was he pushing all the wrong buttons with Charge? “Listen to yourself Charge. You even GAVE Jag permission to pursue Scream! Now why are you so jealous about it?”

“This isn’t about Jag and you know it!” He tried to get around Doc in the other direction.

“Isn’t it? That’s what I thought it was about,” Scream lied. He was a Starscream clone through-and-through at times. Fighting to keep his façade up, he calmed his sensory nets. Now was not the time to have shaking wings!

Knowing that Scream was lying his tail pipes off – but realizing that it might be the only avenue to come to some kind of peaceful resolution – Doc went with it. “See Charge? You’re freaking out over nothing!”

“How dare you lie to me Scream! After all I’ve done for you!” Realizing that Doc was NOT going to move out of the way, Charge straightened to his full height and glared at the Seeker behind the medic.

“I’m not lying.” His innocent smile was sheer perfection.

Doc so wanted to roll his optics, but he restrained himself, knowing that he had to convince Charge that Scream wasn’t actually lying in order to keep the pair from fighting. “It’s always Jag that he’s hanging around.”

“Jag and that pitiful Opie!” Charge snorted.

“Jag did take him in,” Doc reminded him.

“And Opie just follows Jag around like a puppy,” Scream added with a grin. He was acting as if Opie was a nuisance clone – not the clone he was really after.

Charge glanced from one to the other, doubts beginning to cloud his Onslaught battle processor’s logic. His Prime meta processor beginning to regain control again. “So you are really interested in Jag again?” he asked suspiciously.

Swallowing hard, Scream nodded. This was the story that he’d go with. It was the only way Charge MIGHT let them peaceably break up. For Rhinox’s sake – they had to remain friends. Scream wasn’t about to give up his pride and joy – and he knew that Charge wasn’t about to either. A nasty custody battle between them might tear the entire Unit apart. That would be their death knell…

“And you believe him?” the hybrid Prime asked as he locked optics with the medic.

Not the best at lying, but knowing he had to in order to keep the peace, Doc nodded. “I’ve seen the looks going between them.”

Narrowing his optics suspiciously at the pair, Charge’s optics went from battle-ready purple back to clear blue. “We’ll see,” he muttered. Turning around, he headed for the meeting room door. “We’ll see….” His sarcasm filled words drifted back to them.

In synch, medic and Seeker let out sighs of relief. Shakily Scream sank into the nearest chair. His wings now visibly trembling…

“Scream, why’d you push him like that? You know he’s this close,” Doc held his digits so close together that light barely got through, “to kicking Opie’s aft over you.”

Taking a deep breath, Scream calmed himself. The situation was over, he’d won this round of wits with his powerful soon-to-be-ex. “I’ve got to start breaking it off between us, you know that.”

“But not like this Scream.” Doc rolled his optics and thumped his tail pipes down in the chair next to the Seeker. Swiveling it, he faced the red one.

“Then how - great all knowing Doc?” the sarcasm was thick.

“The truth. You and I both know who you’re really stuck on.” Setting a hand on Scream’s smooth leg armor, Doc rubbed his digits as he looked into his red optics.

Scream’s brave act crumbled, slumping in his chair he nodded glumly.

“You realize what you’ve just gotten yourself into don’t you?” It always amazed him how the Seeker never thought before acting on an idea.

“Not really, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.” He’d just been flying by his afterburners during the heated argument – without even thinking about it much.

“You’ve got to go after Jag – and never been seen alone with Opie. Period.” Doc was sure of this. He knew Charge well. And Charge was going to be watching Scream even more closely now.

A frown crossed Scream’s beautiful face. Tears filled his optics.

“What’s wrong Scream? You’re the one who claimed to want him.”

Grinding his dental plates together, Scream looked away and crossed his arms.

This confused Doc; Scream had once been helm-over-thrusters for the tactician. “It’s no big deal Scream; you just have to pick up where you left off with Jag.”

The tears in his optics began to drip down his face. Breaking down, Scream put his face in his hands and sobbed.

Something was very very wrong with Scream, Doc was sure of it. Pulling the sobbing fech to him, he rubbed his wings comfortingly. “What’s wrong with that plan Scream? You can wait for Opie. Claim that you ended up having to take him when Jag officially takes you back.”

This advice just made Scream sob harder. He couldn’t pretend to be lusting after Jag. He wasn’t that good of a liar!

“Scream…. Shhhhhh….. It’s not that bad…” Doc didn’t understand why the fech was so upset. Hadn’t he waited this long for the youngster already? A few more months or even a year wasn’t that much more.

Sniffing, Scream leaned against his peaceful ‘mate’. “It’s not that easy!”

“Tell me why,” Doc replied in a soft voice.

“I…..” Scream choked back another sob.

“You what?”

“I’m not attracted to Jag like that anymore.” Scream broke down into sobs again.

For a long moment Doc sat in stunned silence as he held the seeker. Scream not wanting interface with anyone was strange enough – but Jag of all clones?!? That was unbelievable considering their history together. “You’re just fixated right now Scream, it’ll pass. You’ll desire Jag again. Just wait.”

“It’s not like that!” Scream sobbed as he pulled away from Doc and slammed his fist down on the table.

“Then tell me how it is.” Doc stroked the Seeker’s twitching wing.

The Seeker shot a look over at him, his optics dark. “I haven’t been into ANYONE but Opie – since we rescued him! It’s no fixation!”

Digesting the information, Doc’s optics brightened as he pieced things together. “So THAT’S why…” he whispered to himself.

“Why what?” Scream wiped the tears from his face plate with the back of his hand.

“Well, Charge and I noticed that you weren’t interested in anything about half-way through the gestation. We just figured it was the spark energy drain or something.” His face plate heated up in slight embarrassment at the way he and Charge had eagerly taken advantage of the ‘break’ from being with Scream. “And well, we kind’ve enjoyed having time together.”

Slapping his hands on the table top, Scream gave him a disgusted look. “Well, since we’re being so honest with each other – I never really was into you anyways.”

Doc shrugged at the intended insult. It didn’t bother him at all. “So all this time – you haven’t desired anyone else? Really?”

“Really.”

“Hmmmm, guess your addiction is cured then, huh?” Doc grinned, making it obvious that he intended the comment as a mood lightening joke.

“Guess so. But that doesn’t help my problem at all,” Scream’s glum look returned to his face plate.

Doc rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, you’ve got to get over your lack of interest in Jag anyway if you want to be with Opie. They are a pair now.”

“Yeah, but how?” he replied in dismay. He had no clue as to how to re-ignite his desire for Jag. No idea at all…

“Hmmm, focus on why you first liked Jag. Didn’t you pick him out at the factory?”

“Well yeah…” Scream thought back on that day so long ago. That day when he needed a feeling of security so bad that all he saw was a cop clone on that rack… A cop clone who’d keep him safe…

“So what was it about him?” Doc arched an optic ridge as he asked.

“Security - I didn’t feel safe,” Scream admitted.

“You were still in recovery from Tron weren’t you?” Everyone had heard the story. The story of a Seeker so abused that he had gone insane. A Seeker brought back by Sharon’s hard work and the love of those around him.

“Yeah. Jag never questioned why I had memory echoes. Never asked why I was an interface addict. He just….” Scream paused as he considered it all. “He just accepted me – and loved me.”

Standing up, Doc patted him on his wing. “Then that’s what you need to focus on right now. That Jag makes you feel safe.”

“But.. But I still don’t desire him,” Scream stammered.

Doc shrugged, “I know Jag well enough. He’d be happy just sitting next to you on poker nights. He’d be thrilled just to curl himself around you in the bunk.” He patted the Seeker’s wing again. “No, Jag won’t care if it takes you a long time to want him like that. Of all of us – he’s the most patient.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right. Thanks Doc.” Scream breathed a sigh of relief. He could do the plan as the medic laid it out. Lifting his head, he gave his soon to be ex-mate a thankful smile. “Thanks for understanding me.”

“I just want us to somehow remain friends. We have to for Rhinox,” Doc explained as he returned Scream’s smile.

--------

“3 parts per million iron, 2 parts per million……”The Seeker added small amounts of various solutions to the contents which continually swirled around Glock’s shimmering form. Finished, he continued his mumblings as he stuck a sensor into the tank which held Bond. He seemed almost happy to be so needed by the unconscious and changing clones. Their chassis’ needing to stay submerged so they wouldn’t overheat to the point of total system meltdown. Their systems fluxing in some strange reaction to their mechs’ transformation from the powers of the matrix and Unicron – causing them to absorb various elements from the solutions which cooled them…

By this time Opie had tuned out Dante’s rambling mumbles. With an exhausted sigh, he turned his attention back to the tank that held his old friend Beavis. Walking over, he reached into the cool solution. His digits gently stroked the gel-like surface that had once been armor as tough as his own. “I don’t know if you can hear me Beav, but I’m here for you. I won’t leave until you’re well again,” he whispered.

Like the other two in flux, Beavis’s jaw line was changing, becoming more masculine – more ‘mature’ to use the human’s description. The Prime clone traced his friend’s new face plate. No longer that of a youth, the HotRod clone now looked much older, much stronger. Dinobot had informed them that the matrix changed the carrier – that much Beachcomber had agreed with. But the Predacon had gone further in his explanation of what he suspected was going on. He had claimed that a new Prime would rise soon after Galvatron and his liege appeared. A Prime named Rodimus – who had once been known as HotRod. So this was what they were seeing in that mech’s clone. The sparked clone wasn’t protected by love for a human – so he was linked that much tighter to his mech spark. He would in fact become a clone of the newly changed mech.

Opie glanced over at the other two tanks as he considered the implications of it all. Glock and Bond were changing as well. So that must mean that Unicron was truly an equal to the matrix in some way when it came to affecting Transformers’ (and therefore clones’) spark energy. It also meant that Glock was right in his theory that Megatron never died – he was just transformed into something new. What would Glock and the other two end up looking like? Would they still be the same clones inside? Furrowing his optic ridges, the Optimus clone continued to stroke his good friend as he considered it all.

“See? I told you it was true!” Cloudhopper’s smug comment filled the large med bay as he appeared out of nowhere. Unwrapping his arms, he let the smaller human’s feet touch the trailer floor.

“Anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to just teleport in without knocking first?!?” Dante spat. He glared at the purple Seeker as he moved to stand rather protectively between the pair and Glock’s still form. He hadn’t liked the Seeker recruit since the day they had found him and the other wandering and scared clones in the wilds. He just knew the clone had to have something up his afterburners! He just couldn’t trust him - even after the Unit had rescued Andrea and the other captive women – and Cloudhopper had shown how dedicated he remained to his former owner Andrea.

“Anyone ever tell you to take a chill pill?” the Skywarp look-alike shot back. He gave Dante a cocky grin. “And why you worried anyways? Like I would even consider going after HIS,” he nodded towards Glock, “ugly aft – when I got her!”

Before Dante could react to the insult, Andrea giggled and patted him on a wing. “Don’t worry Dante – Cloud will never NEVER go after your bo. We’re here to see Bond.” The young woman leaned against the much taller purple clone, her hand resting on top of her ever-increasing belly.

Opie grabbed the red Seeker before he could go after the purple one. “Let it go Dante. Let it go,” he whispered in his audio. He’d gotten used to reading the Seeker’s tumultuous moods by now. He knew when it was time to intervene before Dante’s notorious over-reactions turned into physical aggression. And with the pregnant human there – now was definitely NOT the time for it!

Unable to break entirely free of the strong ground clone’s grip, Dante growled and turned his back to the interlopers. “They’d better not touch him!” he muttered under his breath.

“No one but you and us medics will touch him. We agreed on that.” Opie’s expression was calm, cool and totally collected. If the mechs could see him right now – they’d swear it was the real Optimus.

With Dante cooled off a bit, or at least under some type of control, Opie went over to the pair who were now leaning over Bond’s tank. “So it is simply curiosity that brought you two in here?”

“Yeah, that and sheer boredom. These freaking ice storms suck!” Andrea replied. “Will this stuff burn me?” She pointed at the solution covering Bond.

“Negative, it’s just a mild electrolite solution. Kind’ve like a sports drink for fluxing clones.” Dipping his digits in, he encouraged her with a smile.

“Cooooollllddddd,” she noted as her hand went in. But the temperature didn’t stop her from touching the still form within. “His armor’s so soft – softer than skin.”

“Really?” Never one to let his human mate try something without him, Cloudhopper splashed everyone as he thrust his hand in too rapidly.

“Careful Cloud, he can be injured very easily right now,” Opie warned him.

“So it’s true – he’s not going to be a Skywarp model anymore?” the Seeker’s voice seemed oddly filled with excitement.

“No,” Opie pointed at the peaks forming on the top of Bond’s translucent helm, “Dinobot thinks he’ll be a clone of a mech named Cyclonus now.”

Cloudhopper grinned like a youngster with a case of Dr Pepper. “Good.”

Opie cocked his helm, giving the recruit a quizzical look. “Why do you say that?”

Shrugging purple painted shoulders, the Seeker snickered. “He was giving us Skywarps a bad rep you know.”

“Because he was scared?”

“Fucker was nothin’ but a scardy-cat!” Obviously, Bond’s behavior had really miffed his fellow Skywarp model.

“Oh, he wasn’t that bad honey,” Andrea chirped in. She smiled up at her mate just as she rolled her eyes. “He was kind’ve cute when he tried to stuff himself under the couch during that one storm. Remember?”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me! The other recruits dogged my afterburners for a week after that!” Cloudhopper said with an annoyed scowl.

An idea was starting to form in Opie’s meta, one that began with the remembrance of how his own glitched programming had been patched. He had to be smooth though. Get Andrea on his side. Cloudhopper would do anything she asked. Catching her eyes, Opie gave her his warmest smile. “Yes, its hard to believe that a little program glitch turned Bond from a tough guy like Cloudhopper – into what he is today.”

Cloudhopper merely snorted, but Andrea fell right into it. “Really? He wasn’t like this at one time?”

With a feigned expression of sadness, Opie nodded. “In fact, he was our best front line fighter. He’d face Satan himself without a second thought!”

Andrea looked down at the still form in the tank, her expression changing to one that was equally solemn – before changing into one of worry. “My god, if a little glitch can do that to him – what about my Hopper? Can’t Sharon fix it?”

The Prime clone shook his helm. “Trust me they’ve tried. He was TC’s and Sharon’s mate before the accident, but since then…” he paused for effect, “Well, it’s obvious now that he was too afraid to really even let himself love. He wouldn’t be affected by the flux if he had.”

The woman shuddered as visions of Cloudhopper in a similar condition filled her mind. Stepping closer to him, she pressed against his purple edged wing. “Poor thing,” she whispered.

“Personally, I think you’re pulling my wing. If it’s programming than Sharon can fix it!” The Seeker put his free arm over his sad human and pulled her tightly to his armor.

“I’m a Prime – I can’t lie about stuff like that.” Well, he could make it more dramatic though. He’d learned that trick from observing Jester.

Andrea began to cry then. Shooting a disgusted look Opie’s way, Cloudhopper tried to comfort her. “The doctors said not to get her emotional while she’s pregnant – now look what you’ve done!”

Opie shrugged his optics and digits returning to Bond’s form. “Well then I guess you two should leave…” he looked up as if a thought had just struck him, “unless you were considering helping us repair his programming.”

Cloudhopper had just been preparing to teleport when that last comment caught his audios. It caught Andrea’s attention at the same time. Pulling her tear stained face away from his cockpit, she glanced at Opie. “Fix him? How?”

“If Sharon can’t – how in the slag would I?” Cloudhopper challenged, his optics narrowing in suspicion.

“Sharon doesn’t have model specific base software, that’s why she can’t fix him,” Opie explained.

“So?”

“You’re the same model. You have the software. We can link you – then you go through and defragment and repair his damage.” In a smooth motion, Opie pulled and USB cord from his subspace and held it out to the Seeker. “He’ll be brave again – and you’ll be the hero who helped him.”

“Oh do it! Do it!” Andrea exclaimed, her eyes now bright with excitement.

Cloudhopper looked from Prime clone to his mate and back. He really didn’t want to do this. He’d probably see things in Bond’s memory banks that he’d rather not. But the stupid medic had gotten his girlfriend in on it. And she’d never let him forget it if he didn’t do it. With a disgusted sigh, he grabbed the offered cable, opened his interlink port hatch and plugged it in. “Fine,” he grumbled.

Pulling one of Bond’s translucent arms out of the solution, Opie wiped off the liquid before opening an auxiliary port and plugging the other end in. “Thanks Cloudhopper. I’ll tell the commanders about how concerned you are for your fellow flyers.”

The Seeker didn’t hear him. His consciousness had already sunk into his processor and was reaching out to connect with his fellow Skywarp clone’s processors.

“You look exhausted, I’ll hold his arm still,” a voice said from behind Opie.

Recognizing McCoy’s calm voice, the Prime clone nodded. With a final thankyou smile at Andrea, he stumbled past the other tanks to the far corner of the large med bay. Sinking down to his tailpipes, he assumed the standard ‘clone shipping’ pose: Knee joints bent, arms wrapped around them, head bent down and helm resting against his knee joints. With a sigh, he finally allowed himself to drift of into defragmentation…..

-----

“Whad da ya think Ratchet?” The familiar voice caused Opie to activate his optics. Lifting his head from his knees, he glanced across the med bay in the direction that his audios were picking up Jinx’s voice.

- or, should we say – who he had assumed was Jinx.

McCoy was still there, holding Bond’s arm in a steady grip while Cloudracker was linked with him. The white medic was conversing in very hushed tones with Andrea concerning her expected delivery date. Dante was also going about his business as normal. The strange Starscream clone muttering to himself about chemical compounds and dilution ratios as he tested each tank in turn…

… But there were others in the bay with them now. Others that no one but Opie could see…

The clone sized mechs were leaning over the other side of Bond’s tank. Their chassis easily discerned even though they were translucent. Freed sparks pulsed within them, casting eerie shadows over the living beings right next to them.

Standing up, Opie glanced back. This time it didn’t shock him to see his chassis still curled up there. His spark was wandering again, though this time he intended to try and control the experience a bit. Striding over to the pair of Autobot ghosts, he tapped Wheeljack on his armor.

The Autobot spark turned his helm, his black optics widening a bit as he realized they now had direct company. Glancing over to the corner, he confirmed that the clone was not off-lined by any means. “Hey Ratchet, check this out! This clone can see us!” Reaching out, he grabbed Opie’s arm.

Turning, the old medic sized the Prime clone up. “Apparently Perceptor’s theory is faulty,” he noted.

“Yeah, ya could say that again. Love ta see his face plate if he knew he was wrong!” Wheeljack snickered. Cocking his helm, he gave Opie a thorough once over with his optics. “Interestin that a Prime clone is keepin’ his battlemask disengaged. So what’s ya name?”

“Opie.” The clone grasped Wheeljack’s hand and shook it in the human manner of greeting.

“Opie huh? Well, I’m Wheeljack and he’s Ratchet – or should we say that we USED to be Wheeljack and Ratchet.” The mech’s spark pulsed, his mood strangely bright.

“Yes, I figured that out.”

“You don’t seem surprised in the least – why is that?” Ratchet asked. Heck, if the clone had been a mech – he’d have bolted screaming out of the med bay. Then again, a living mech wouldn’t be able to have a spark that wandered around like a ghost spark. Yet that’s exactly what this clone was able to do. Very interesting…

Opie shrugged, “I’ve done this before. It shocked me then, now I’m used to it.”

“So ya wander with us every defrag cycle?” The inventor was totally fascinated. If he was still living, he’d figure out how to invent a machine to allow others to do the same. Then the living could actually hear the deads’ advice for once.

“Are you able to recall what you’ve seen?” Ratchet was also extremely curious, but for different reasons than his spark mate.

“No to the first, yes to the second.” Opie smiled at the pair. This seemed to be a much happier experience walking with the dead – than his last experience. “So why’d you two come here?”

“We followed the lines,” the white mech explained.

“What lines?”

Wheeljack motioned above Bond. “Look reeeeeaaaaaaallll close and ya see it.”

Concentrating hard, Opie was finally able to make out the ‘line’. It was barely the width of a human hair and made out of some strange energy. It sprang from the Seeker’s very spark and disappeared out of sight through the roof of the trailer. “What is it?” he asked in awe.

“It connects them directly to their mechs.” Ratchet glanced at his fellow mech to continue the explanation.

“It’s only the three mechs that are the anchors to these spark lines though.”

Opie glanced at the other two fluxing clones in the med bay. Sure enough, he could just barely make out the lines connecting to them. “The ones that have undergone the change?”

“Yep, sure is. This clone’s a smart one!” Wheeljack nodded.

“He should be, considering who his mech was.” Ratchet optic’d the red clone, comparing him to the leader he’d once followed to his death.

Blushing a bit at the compliment, Opie lowered his optics for a moment. “Thank you.” Looking back up, he met the old medics optics. “But why did you follow the lines?”

Ratchet shrugged, “Call it curiosity. We noticed a web of them coming from each mech. As we watched, lines started going dark.”

“Yep, got here and figured out that the energy flux was killin’ off most of the sparked clones that were connected. Well, ‘xept for these three.” Wheeljack motioned at the Unit members with his hand.

“These are the few that are on life support. The others don’t have the medical attention they require, so they’re melting down under the flux. Very disturbing.” Reaching down, Ratchet didn’t even disturb the solution as he touched Bond’s cockpit.

“Yeah, sucks when there’s so few groups left with medics. Yours is one of the best outfits we’ve come across.” Reaching across the tank, the inventor brushed Cloudhopper’s purple edged wing. “At least ya mechs, uh, I mean clones – are trying stuff. Even if it don’t work.”

“What do you mean – it won’t work?” Opie’s voice filled with concern. “Are they all going to….. die?”

Ratchet laid a comforting arm over the clone spark’s shoulder plates. “No.. No.. They’ll all pull through if your medics keep them cool and give them the ions they need to complete the change.”

“I was talkin’ ‘bout this Seeker’s programming glitch. It’s too late to reload the Skywarp base programs on. He’s gonna be a basket case when he reactivates.” Wheeljack patted Cloudhopper’s wing. “Just look at the expression on this clone’s face plate. He knows he’s failin, can’t figure out why, and now he’s stressed out because he’ll disappoint his girlfriend.”

“Is there any way to repair Bond?!?” Opie pleaded with them.

Wheeljack rubbed his face mask. “Well, think so, but can’t be sure.”

Reaching out with his hands, the Prime clone grasped his shoulder plates and shook him. “Please tell me Wheeljack, we’ve got to fix him!”

“It’s not wise to get his hopes up Wheeljack. There’s no proof it’ll work, and little chance he’ll convince the mech involved.”

“We gotta tell him Ratchet. He’s the only one who can do it!”

The medic sighed and shook his head. “It’s too dangerous for the clone. His unique spark is too valuable to risk on a suicide mission.”

Turning from Wheeljack, Opie puffed himself up and met Ratchet’s optics. “I don’t care what the risk is – I’ll do whatever it takes to save my friend!”

“Geese, I’d swear it was Optimus standin in front of us right now – ‘xept I know he’s dead like us,” humor filled Wheeljack’s voice. For a dead mech – he’d sure kept his sense of humor about it all.

“And just like Optimus – he’ll be the death of himself. No, this band of survivors needs him. We can’t tell him.” Ratchet crossed his arms, his stance unmovable.

Realizing that his only hope was to convince Wheeljack, Opie turned back to him. “I don’t care what Ratchet says, this Unit has plenty of strong leaders. I’m merely a medic clone.” He pointed to Bond. “And if I let him become a basket case when I know there’s a way to possibly repair him – I won’t be able to live with myself! Would you?”

“He’s got a good point there Ratchet. Maybe we should tell him? Let him decide if it’s worth the risk?”

“Fool’s errand,” Ratchet snorted. Turning his back on the pair, he strolled over to Beavis’s tank and studied his vitals.

Opie locked optics with the inventor expectantly.

“Ok, ok… Here’s the deal. Best we can figure is that if ya follow the spark line back to Cyclonus, and ya convince the mech to give ya a zip file of his base programming – ya just might be able to use it to repair this clone. It’s pretty dangerous.” He chuckled as he patted Opie’s arm. “But then it ain’t like a Prime to back down when I tell him that.”

“Thanks Wheeljack,” Opie whispered, his meta already rolling through the possibilities in the mission. “But how do I get Cyclonus to talk with me? No one can see me when I’m in this realm.”

“Oh that?” The inventor’s spark glittered, as if he was silently laughing. “You just have to decide you want him to see you. You’ll appear solid to him when you do that. We don’t do it though. Scares the oil right out of a living mech to see a dead one.”

“In this case, that might be a good thing,” Opie replied. Cocking his helm, he smiled at the inventor. “Can you tell me what this Cyclonus’s temperament is like?” He needed to start planning on how to talk the Decepticon into the data transfer, and to do that he needed to know how to approach him.

“Blindly dedicated to the rise of the Decepticons and serving Galvatron. Might call him a fanatic. But he also thinks of himself as the consummate warrior, and if he gives his word – he’ll die before he breaks it. No sense of humor by the way.”

“Thanks for the info.” Reaching up, Opie wrapped a hand around the energy line. It felt solid to his wandering spark. As solid as a rope.

“Be careful little one. Be careful…” Wheeljack’s ghost watched the clone spark disappear.

“Just like Optimus. Give him a suicide mission – and he jumps right on board,” Ratchet grumbled.

“Yeah, gotta love him though….” Tears filled Wheeljack’s black orbs as he fondly remembered the real Optimus.

-------

Standing in the corner, Opie studied his quarry. The mech was confident and powerful, his movement filled with the grace that only a supreme warrior could attain. In many ways, he filled the Optimus clone with awe. It didn’t matter to the clone that he was considered ‘evil’. He was one of the loyalist and bravest of all living mechs – Loyalty and bravery that no other Decepticon had ever shown.

If Bond’s personality glitch could be repaired through this mech – he’d be incredible! Excitement raced through Opie’s networks as he glided unseen after the mech, becoming ever more impressed with him as he observed his daily routine. But how would he approach the mech? After all, he was almost identical to one of Cyclonus’s greatest opponents. And unlike clones who could care less about mech factions – factions were everything to a mech.

Gliding right through the door that closed behind Cyclonus, Opie watched him as he moved around his quarters. Should he use the natural fear mechs had of ghosts – or not? Deciding that a mix would be the best, Opie formulated a plan… A plan that required him to become a mech-sized clone…

… Buffing the armor of his leg, Cyclonus sighed as he considered the outcome of the most recent Autobot/Decepticon battle. It had resulted in a stalemate, with neither side able to claim victory over the other. Not a situation that any Decepticon liked. Better than a loss though… “Next time we shall not merely equal you Autobots – we shall destroy you!” he muttered under his breath.

“Indeed Cyclonus, your forces are becoming stronger,” a voice agreed with him. A voice from the past… A voice that had no business being heard ever again! His battle processor clicking on in the blink of an optic, Cyclonus leapt to his peds with his back against the wall, his red optics scanning the interior of his quarters. “Who dares enter my chamber!” he challenged the thin air.

Slowly fading in, a bare faced Optimus Prime appeared across from him. The great Autobot hero blocking the only means of escape for the mech. “I do,” he cocked his helm and gave Cyclonus an amused look as several rounds were fired – going right through him since he hadn’t fully allowed himself to enter the living realm. “Interesting way to meet an unarmed opponent. I had expected better of a warrior as great as you.”

His optics wide with barely concealed fear, Cyclonus tried desperately to keep his brave façade in place as he met the ghost’s bright blue optics. No mech, no matter how great, could face the dead without fear. “I face natural opponents – not the unnatural like you! Leave me be ghost!” He pressed his back tight to the wall behind him. Was the ghost going to take his chassis over?!? Was the ghost going to rip him from the world of the living?!?

The apparent ghost of Optimus Prime shifted slightly. “Throw your weapon down. I come merely to discuss a matter of importance with you.”

The Decepticon growled, gripping his weapon yet more tightly. “I have nothing to discuss with an Autobot! Leave me!”

The red ghost stepped closer, his confident smile widening as the powerful Decepticon slunk even further back against the wall. “Your weapon is useless against free sparks. If you want me to leave without harming you – then throw it down.”

Now visibly shaking, the warrior swallowed hard. Yet, this was Prime’s ghost. And Prime had once followed the same honorable code that he did. “Give me your word Prime. Your word that you merely wish to talk – and not take my chassis as your own!”

The ghost made a show of considering his air frame before answering. “I must say that your chassis is very tempting Cyclonus – but rest assured, I have no interest in it.”

Throwing aside his weapon, the Decepticon straightened in relief. “Then what do you wish to discuss ghost? If it deals with Decepticon strategies – you have come to the wrong mech to discuss it with.”

Allowing himself to fully solidify, Opie studied the mech. It was strange to be the same size, but exhilarating at the same time! “I have no interest in Decepticon business.”

“You lie Prime. You gave your spark in a pathetic attempt to defeat us!” Cyclonus accused.

Opie chuckled, “True, Optimus did give up his spark – but I didn’t.”

The mech’s optics went wide in disbelief. “What foolishness is this that you are speaking!?! I see you clearly – you are Optimus!”

Shaking his head, Opie kept his optics locked with Cyclonus’s. “I’m merely one of his clones. Thus, I have no interest in either faction’s business.”

“Do you think I am a fool?!?” he bellowed, his digits balling up into tight fists. “No pathetic clone can travel in the spark realm! No pathetic clone HAS a spark!”

“Oh, we have sparks – wild sparks. Starscream knew it, he saw one in one of his own clones,” Opie explained.

“The traitor’s beliefs mean little to me. You are Optimus Prime – not some clone!” he growled.

Moving next to the mech’s berth, Opie nimbly hopped up and sat his tailpipes down upon it. He’d anticipated the mech’s disbelief – and had figured out how to change that. “I am a clone Cyclonus. And if I prove that to you – will you agree to help me in my quest to repair one of your own clones?”

Cyclonus optic-balled him suspiciously, “You have the audacity to storm in here with your lies of clones!?! There are no clones of me!”

“Skywarp has clones. And we both know that’s who you were.” Opie leaned his back against the wall, his optics never leaving Cyclonus’s. “Your sparked clones are fluxing, they’re changing in response to your change – just as some Megatron clones are as well.” He gave the mech a warm smile. “Unicron’s power is immense. More immense and influential than you mechs will ever comprehend…

“You lie….” His rebuttal was weaker this time, his certainty of what could happen in the Universe now dealt a large blow.

“Do you agree Cyclonus? If I can convince you of what I am – you will help my friend that is your clone?” Opie cocked his helm at the mech. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but this was the only way he was certain that he could convince him that he wasn’t the actual Optimus Prime. And once he was convinced that Opie wasn’t really an Autobot – he would be more inclined to help him.

“Agreed Autobot ghost,” Cyclonus growled.

Sitting up, Opie grabbed the mech and pulled him to him, his legs now on either side of the purple flyer. “What’s the one thing that Optimus never would do Cyclonus?” He whispered in his audio. He had the memory echoes which proved that the Decepticons had been all too aware of Prime’s aversion to mech-to-mech interfacing. In fact, the few times they had managed to capture the Autobot leader, they had used that very thing to torture him with. “Use me like a femme,” he whispered in a low growl before the surprised Decepticon could even answer. His hands slid behind the warrior’s helm. Opie locked their lips together in a forced kiss, his pelvic armor grinding seductively against Cyclonus’s.

In a brief moment of desperation, the Decepticon tried to pull away from the clone’s embrace. His meta reeled in shock… Opie’s grip was too strong though. His lips too insistent… Optimus’s ghost glossa raped his mouth. His warm chassis pressed tight to him. Engines roared in his sensitive audios. Cyclonus’s meta reeled as he raked his digits against hard armor, trying to cause pain even as gentle but firm digits slipped inside the seams of his armor, causing waves of pleasure sensation to crash over him.

Armor slid against armor it the most intimate of manners. His plug pressed with need against its confines. The mech picked up the heady scent of the strong ghost whom held him captive. It overwhelmed his instincts to avoid pleasure from an opponent – from the dead. His trembles of fear-induced revulsion soon changed to trembles of want.

Digits drifted down his air frame. Soft clicks filled the room as the Optimus look-a-like expertly popped the clasps of his codpiece. Cyclonus moaned into the deep kiss as his plug sprang free, thumping hard against Opie’s abdominal armor. His hands slid down, grasping the Prime clone’s aft as he pressed tightly against him. His cable slid along smooth warm armor, lighting up sensory nodes along its length in blistering sequences of pure bliss.

“Mmmm, the last time we met like this… Mmmmmm….” Cyclonus moaned as their lips finally parted. Nipping Opie’s thin neck armor, he thrust against him hard, his meta recalling the sweet tightness of that little used port hidden beneath his armor.

“You, mmmmm, used me. Tried to, mmmm, break me…” Arching against the powerful air frame, Opie felt the ache of want building within his ports. Suddenly, he pushed the former Seeker back.

Grunting in a mixture of pain and surprise, Cyclonus slammed his wings against the wall. The sting served to enhance the want within him. Standing up, he glowered at the ghost, pumping his ready plug with a hand. “You prove that you ARE Prime!” he snarled. Now he was going to rape the ghost! He didn’t care what the consequences were!

Laying down on his back armor, Opie replied to his accusation with actions – not words. His hands slid down, plating sliding aside as he spread his legs yet further. The slits of his two ports were now visible to the mech. The mere fact that he had the additional forward port – proof positive that he wasn’t a mech at all! Rimming his forward port with his own digits, he spread his entrance wider. The glimmer of lubricant beginning to be released in anticipation of interfacing easily seen..

Cyclonus bit his next comment off before he could make it. No male mech – other than the false mech Starscream – had two receiving ports. The ghost was indeed no ghost at all. Instead he was some type of mech sized clone. A clone that had the power to fly with the dead! This clone wished to discuss matters of importance with him hmmm – indeed Cyclonus now had his own questions for the clone to answer in turn! But that could wait now. Those ports looked so inviting… His plug ached painfully in his hand. Marching up to the prostrate clone, he shoved digits from his free hand inside his offered ports.

Gasping at the rough intrusion into his not-fully-readied forward port, Opie bit down on his lower lip. He’d forgotten the Decepticon mech perchance for pain with their pleasure. “I’m…mmmm… not ready…”

A ruthless smirk on his face plate, the mech forced another digit in with his first, then another, then another, until he had them all within the clone’s port. “You play with mechs, clone – expect to interface like a mech!” Brutally, he shoved his hand deep inside the spasming port. Leaning over the clone, he began to bite him. To mark him as his conquest…

Opie couldn’t help but whimper slightly as pain washed over his networks. He’d asked for this though… He wouldn’t back down. His digits dug into Cyclonus’s smooth armor as he forced himself to put his legs against the mech’s shoulder plates. Forced himself to expose himself to further assault. “Take me, nggssttt, Cyclonus! Take me!” His voice was low, full of both pain and lust.

Looking down at the form so like his former enemy, Cyclonus growled as he heard his plea. So different from the last time he’d raped the leader along with the other Decepticons. This time his attentions were accepted – even wanted. With a snarl, he pulled his hand out and slammed his hips forward, sinking his thick spike deep within the clone’s now-sore port.

Leaning forward, the con took Opie’s lips in a brutal imitation of a passion filled kiss. He nipped at his lips, nipped at his glossa, and sucked the delicious taste of spilling energon from the warm interior of his mouth. Thrusting in a ruthless pace, he felt his pressure building as the clone writhed against him. The port was tight, so tight… Each time he caused the clone pain from a bite, the port squeezed him yet tighter. Increasing his pleasure to the point it was boiling over..

“Tell me that you want it…” Cyclonus growled as he allowed Opie to break free of the kiss.

Gasping for more cooling oxygen, the clone’s intakes clicked on. Grabbing the mech’s hips, he rode the spike of agony as it fired through his port sensors. The friction building… Lubricant finally released in enough quantity to cool his port. To allow him to feel pleasure through the soreness… “Ahhhhh… fill me… Fill me…” he gasped.

Smirking evilly, the mech increased his pace as he impaled the Prime look-a-like on his throbbing plug. Looking down, he enjoyed watching his length disappear within white armor. The suction from the port caused it to pull slightly outward every time he pulled out. The sucking sound combined with the sharp clanging of their armored hips to create a serenade of sorts.

The sensation of heady power over another filled the mech. He wanted this clone to prove himself further. Wanted to see how far he would take it. “Show me your spark clone,” he commanded.

Mewling in pleasure now, Opie willingly commanded his spark panel to open, bathing the Decepticon in the swirling blue light of his life force.

The flow of spark energy over him pushed the mech over the edge. With a grunt, he felt his pressure shoot forth. His release filling the tight warmth of the clone’s sensitive port…

“Unggggst!” Opie screamed as the mech’s hydraulic fluid filled him, stinging the sensory nodes of his abused port. Arching against the mech, he offered no resistance as the mech pounded deeper into him, filling him with yet more of the slightly caustic fluid. His exposed spark pulsed wildly in response, creating light which flickered about them.

Sagging against the clone, Cyclonus did not pull out. He was merely giving himself a slight breather to gain strength for the next round. And another round there soon would be – that was assured!

“Cyclonus?” Opie’s deep voice seemed weak. His spark chamber resealed as he looked up at the mech. Had he proven himself enough to earn the mech’s cooperation? He sure hoped so.

“Silence clone!” Cyclonus growled. He slapped the offending lips with the flat of his hand. Grinding his hips again, he felt the limp length of him as it was squeezed by the clone’s slick port. His over sensitized sensory nods shooting signals to his meta as he pumped a touch in an out, allowing time to reawaken his passion. “Your port is mine to use until I’m satiated. Do you understand?” he growled.

This wasn’t going nearly as quickly as he’d hoped. Gritting his dental plates together, Opie nodded his acceptance of that ultimatum.

“Show me that you desire me clone. Activate your cable,” Cyclonus growled darkly. His own plug was again showing signs of life. In the Decepticon ranks interface was used to prove dominance over another and by welcoming penetration Opie had effectively put himself in the position of the submissive. This had triggered the natural aggression in his partner, an aggression that wouldn’t terminate until the flyer was fully satiated.

With a click and a slight whir, the Optimus clone activated his cable. He pressurized it to maximum before Cyclonus could bark at him to do so.

The big mech chuckled darkly as he ran his digits along the clone’s length, causing him to tremble and moan. “It is ironic that his clone is better endowed than the mech,” he noted to himself, his optics gleaming like fire as he enjoyed the clone’s reaction to his ministerings. Every time he brushed the terminal end, the Prime look-a-like would arch up, his chassis going tense as his sensory networks responded to stimulation. This in turn caused his valve to tighten, grasping Cyclonus’s reawakening spike in a wonderful grip.

He toyed with the clone in this way for many astrominutes, his meta transposing the real mech onto the clone. Finally, he grew tired of the play. His need to dominate returning to his desire…. Pulling out of the clone’s slick port, he reached out and grabbed him by his throat servo and roughly forced him to sit up. Biting him hard on his neck, he enjoyed the moans changing back to gasps of pain. “This is what it means to be a warrior, clone. Pleasure and pain inseparable,” he whispered in a low husky voice.

“To savor both,” Opie gasped. This mech reminded him more and more of Dinobot. Perhaps it was Cyclonus who had started that entire warrior code that the Predicon followed?

“Yeeeees,” Cyclonus murmured. He took Opie’s bruised lips again, his kiss more passionate than violent this time. Most mechs would have begged him to stop or get things over with by now, but this clone of Prime was strong, he seemed to welcome the pain. To be honest, the mech was beginning to have a shred of respect for him. “Now turn and bend over,” he commanded as he broke the kiss.

The last time a Decepticon had wanted him in that position, the interfacing had been almost over. With a sigh more of relief than of desire, the clone slid off of the berth and did as he was ordered. Suddenly, a hand surrounded his taunt cable without warning. A press against his aft forcing him to thrust forward… His optics widened in surprise as his cable was guided right into the side of the berth. Sliding in an unnoticed lubricated hole which tightened around his girth in a snug, warm embrace, he tried to pull back in his surprise but found that he was now locked in place. “What..?” he gasped.

Cyclonus slid down his frame, his digits and glossa exploring unhindered. “Mmmmm, the last time I had a Prime in this position – he almost ripped his cable off trying to fight us off.” Now on his knees, the big mech slid his digits into the two slits of the clone. Pulling his digits apart, he stretched the openings wide while he cupped his white aft.

“I… I was just taken by surprise.” Opie shivered as the mech’s glossa lapped at his forward port. He felt so trapped, so vulnerable. But it was so very delectable as well! “Mmmm, feels tight and warm.”

Lapping up his own hydraulic fluid which was dripping from the clone’s forward valve, Cyclonus smirked. “Yes, a wonderful contraption that your own Wheeljack invented for us when he was held captive a millennia ago. I will allow you to experience some of its finer points – besides holding a mech still for another’s use.” He began to force digits inside the clone’s tighter aft port as he finished lapping up his fluids. His plug throbbed with renewed excitement as the clone moaned and curled his digits around the opposite edge of the berth.

His knee servos were shaking so badly in response to the intensity of the signals that his port and cable sensors were washing over him – he’d have been on the floor by now if he wasn’t bent over the support of the berth. “Mmmmm, ahhhhhhhh,” he moaned as his digits dug into the smooth metal. The false port surrounding his cable seemed to respond to his trembling. It began to massage his length, adding to his pleasure. He became nothing but a gasping, moaning, trembling wreck within minutes! The sensations were too great and his networks came crashing down around him. He fell into the abyss of overload with a low scream of total release.

Cyclonus grinned as the clone went still. “Very similar to us, yet,” he forced three digits into the still clone’s aft port, “so very different.” He enjoyed the tightness around his digits, imagining how it would feel around his spike. For a brief moment he wondered if there was a spark merge chance if he used this port. It had been a wonderful thing to do with the real Optimus. The leader had screamed when he was broached with the fiery sparks of Decepticon after Decepticon. Although those screams had been music to the then-Skywarp’s audios – he doubted this clone would react the same.

No, this clone, though much like the mech he was modeled after – was different. Cyclonus had seen a strength in his optics, in his wild spark, that was so unlike any Autobots’ – that he knew the clone could take whatever a Decepticon could dish out. Take it – and enjoy it like a con. Perhaps this clone ‘friendship’ with a Skywarp clone – was far more than mere friendship? “Mmmmm, yeeeeess,” he moaned as he stood up and slowly sank his spike within Opie’s aft port. He was certain of it now; the Prime clone must be mated with a Skywarp clone. Why else would he risk death by coming here?

Opie reactivated to the sensation of his ports being used and his cable still trapped in the delicious grip of the berth. Spreading his legs wider, he arched up his rump as much as his trapped cable would allow. Cyclonus thrust into his aft port, then pulled slowly out, only to thrust violently into his sore forward port – and then repeated the cycle, causing the reawakened clone to alternate between moans of pure bliss – to gasps of pain.

“You are reactivated, goooood,” the mech purred. Activating the berth programming, his smirk increased as the clone bucked beneath him, his ports tightening to the point that it was almost painful to penetrate them.

“Akkkk!” Shots of electricity roared through his cable, shocking his unready meta. Writhing against the table, Opie was unable to pull from its tight grasp. Then the pain was suddenly gone, replaced by the slow and wonderful massaging action again. Moaning between his intake gasps for cooling oxygen, his meta reeled in confusion over the mixture of pain/pleasure signals roaring through his processor.

As soon as the clone relaxed back into pleasurable moaning, the table reactivated the electric shock. The screams/moans escalating with each cycle as the pain/pleasure sequence intensified. His ports fluxed painfully around Cyclonus’s continued penetration, enhancing the mech’s pleasure as he held the writhing clone down against the berth’s surface. His thrusts increasing with each crescendo of screams and moan. He forced the clone’s cable deep into the device, buried it to its hilt, with his forceful thrusts…

“Ngggssssttttt!” Opie’s optics rolled up into his helm as the electrical charge through his cable caused him to tense once again. He slammed his face plate down on the berth with a thud so hard that it resonated in the bare room. The pleasure was so intense – the pain was so intense – he’d never experienced both in such extremes. Not even Tron’s sick-meta’d followers could have dreamed something like this up. Again and again he overloaded right in the pleasure phase of the cycle – only to be rudely forced back to consciousness with an even more powerful surge of pain.

“Incredible, mmmmm,” Cyclonus grunted - pulling out of the clone’s clenching port; he stroked himself just once before exploding in a moan of glorified release. Dark, thick hydraulic fluid spurted forth, coating the red, white and blue armor laid out before him. Setting a hand on the gasping clone’s back armor, he drooped for a long moment, enjoying the afterglow of his release which blended with the alternating moans/screams of the writhing clone beneath his hand.

On unsteady legs, Cyclonus finally moved to the other side of berth. Forcing the clone to raise his chest on shaking arm servos, he ran his digits over the clone’s lips. “Now clean me off with your glossa,” he ordered.

His cable still trapped and being stimulated by the table, the clone didn’t hesitate to comply. His glossa flicked out, licking off the raw tasting hydraulic fluid from the spike’s length. Cyclonus bent over him, reveling in the power over the Prime look-a-like as he licked his spilled fluids from the clone’s back armor. The clone was still alternating between moans/gasps as the berth continued to work its magic, which was delectable for the vibrations they caused against his shaft buried deep in the clone’s mouth.

Finally clean, the mech decided that the clone had proven himself enough. Deactivating the table, he caught the clone before he could crumble to the floor. Sliding onto the table, he pulled him up on it. The pair now facing each other, Cyclonus could see no tears, no hint of terror, no regrets etched on the clone’s faceplate. “What is your designation?” he asked as he gave him a tender kiss.

“Opie,” he whispered back. He shivered as one of his legs was lifted up by the mech and put over a smooth hip. His ports ached, his cable ached, but yet the experience had been the most incredible one he’d ever had.

“If you were more than a clone – I’d urge you to join us. You show strength that few have.” Cyclonus’s hand drifted down, circling around both of their shafts.

Blushing slightly at the compliment, Opie trembled as his oversensitized cable sensors were stimulated again. “Thankyou. I must… mmmmm…. Admit that this has been the … ahhhhhhhh… most incredible experience… mmmmm… I’ve ever had.”

“I never perform less than perfect.” Cyclonus gave him a warm smile. His optics gleaming in pleasure…. He’d never admit it to the clone. But to be with a ‘mech’ that wasn’t in either faction, that was no threat to him in any way – had made it an experience for him to remember and savor as well. “So, you have almost fulfilled your part of our agreement – what do you require of me?”

He’d convinced the mech! Opie’s face brightened into a happy smile. “I need a flash file of your base programming codes. Bond’s base programs were shattered in an accident – and now that he’s fluxing into a Cyclonus clone – we can’t use Skywarp programs to repair him.”

“Hmmm, his designation is ‘Bond’ – how fitting concerning the circumstances,” Cyclonus chuckled.

“Yes, he’s my flight partner,” Opie added.

Assuming that the clone meant ‘mate’ when he used the term ‘partner’, Cyclonus’s smile widened…. Moving his hips slightly, he penetrated him again as he stroked his shaft. “While I continue to enjoy my clone’s partner – you have my permission to link.”

Moaning as his port was filled again; Opie connected the link with trembling digits and began the download sequence.

---------

His spark flying freely again, Opie flew along the spark lines flowing from Cyclonus. Many of them seemed to go dark and fray right before his optics. “They’re dying,” he whispered to the cold darkness of spark realm space.

Knowing he had to save as many as he could, Opie reached out from the line that led to Bond and grabbed another one. Bond would survive even without the programs since he had medical support. And Opie could load them and fix his meta processor at any time. But the others… The others were dying… Alone, unloved… He had to do what he could!

Zipping through the hazy atmosphere, the Prime clone headed straight for the white surface beneath. His hand still surrounded the spark line, guiding his spark’s flight. The ground came up fast – too fast. With a thud, he smacked into the drift.

He could feel the clone’s intense heat before he even dug through the snow. If it weren’t for the snow pack – this unknown sparked Skywarp clone would have melted down long ago. The gale force winds and driving snow had no effect on the Prime clone as he frantically dug, his armor easily handling whatever Earth’s wild weather could throw at him…

Finally, he found an arm. Standing up, he braced himself as he pulled hard. The Seeker finally pulled free of the snowpack. His wings had been sheered off, his optics barely on line. “Heeeeeelllllpppp meeeeee,” he whispered in a voice so weak, only the sensitivity of Opie’s audios could discern it over the roaring wind.

Pulling the clone to his solidified spark form, Opie wrapped an arm around him and stood up. “I’m going to get you to help, but you’ve got to activate your teleport. I will guide us through the warp.”

His meta too clouded by the flux to even process much, the wreck did as he was ordered. The pair disappeared in warp.

Holding on tight to the warping Seeker, the Eve spark grabbed back onto the spark line. Using it, he guided them through the spark realm and back down towards Bond.

------

No one could see Opie’s free spark in the med bay as he barreled in with the dying Seeker. All they saw was a wreck of a Skywarp clone suddenly appear out of midair and falling limply to the floor. Calling the other medics to come in to assist, McCoy ran towards the unconscious Seeker.

Opie didn’t see it though, he was already on his way back up the spark lines. His sole focus was to save as many fluxing clones as he could. He traveled the spark realm, collecting three more Skywarp clones before all the remaining lines went dark and disappeared. Dropping the last survivor off at his Unit, he was off again, this time zooming up Glock’s spark line.

As he approached the Decepticon leader Galvatron, Opie frowned as he noticed so very, very few spark lines attached to the leader. Glock had been right. So very few Megatron clones had been sparked… His spark pulsing hard, Opie began to follow those few lines as fast as he could. He could feel them fraying right in his hands.

He only managed to save one of those clones. Dumping him with a clang on the now-overly full medic bay floor, he grabbed onto Beavis’s spark line.

His spark brightened as he approached the new Autobot leader Rodimus. There were so many spark lines flowing from the mech. So many clones that could be saved! Ignoring his growing weakness, the Eve spark dove along those lines. Finding each unconscious clone – transporting them through the spark realm to safety….

The final survivor now safe, Opie’s free spark felt the weakness flow over him. Staggering unseen by the other medics, he headed towards his defragging chassis. With a sigh, he settled into the chassis, not even having the energy to notice a very worried looking Scream and Doc kneeling next to his frame…..

------

“I’m telling you Doc – I don’t feel his spark!” Tears streamed down Scream’s face plate.

The First Aid clone opened the Prime clone’s spark panel, his optics widening in horror as he saw no spark. Yet the clone’s systems were still functioning as if he was in normal defrag. Glancing up, he looked around the chaotic med bay. He wished he could ask another medic for help – but they were slammed with all of these new fluxing clones appearing from out of thin air.

“Wait! Wait!” Scream’s worried optics spotted the faintest pulse of a spark within Opie’s chamber.

“Maybe we didn’t see it before.” Doc leaned in close, his optic ridges furrowing in thought. “It’s so weak, almost like a brand new spark.” He had no clue as to why the medic Prime clone had suffered some kind of strange weakening to his spark. And no clue as to why they couldn’t bring him out of defrag either….

“We can’t just leave him here on the floor! Where’s a med table?” Scream demanded.

“There are none open, we’ve got so many fluxing clones…”

“I don’t CARE! This is Opie – he deserves a table first!” Scream’s fist balled up. He made as if he was going to pick up Opie just as Jag ran in.

Doc stopped Scream from picking up his secret love. With all the activity going on in the warehouse, they didn’t need Charge to go into a jealousy fit if he saw Scream carrying Opie anywhere. It was bad enough that Scream was leaning over him. At least with Doc there, the medic could claim that he’d asked the Seeker to try and spark read the unconscious clone. “No Scream,” he looked up at Jag, “Let Jag take him back to his bunk and keep an optic on him.”

“What’s going on?” the tactician asked. His expression was one of being stressed out. He didn’t like unpredictable days – and this was beyond unpredictable with so many fluxing clones dropping out of midair. Now there was an apparent problem with Opie on top of it!

“We can’t get him to come out of defrag – and his spark’s very weak,” Doc explained.

“And HE won’t let me handle it!!!” Scream pouted.

Jag glanced from Seeker to medic and back. He was as aware of the Charge conflict as they were. It made sense not to let the Seeker trigger the Ground Commander’s jealousy at this time. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” he said. Kneeling down, he gathered his Prime mate into his arms.

Scream stood up with Jag just as Charge walked in the other end of the main med bays. His red optics scanned the Prowl clone’s in worry. “Please Jag… You know … I…” his words were halting, matching his actions. Bending forward, he gave the tactician a quick kiss. “Please… take care of him…”

“You know I will,” Jag promised. He watched the Seeker’s wings droop in sadness. Scream wanted to be the one taking care of Opie in his hour of need – but they all knew he couldn’t. Out of the corner of his optic, he noticed Charge moving within audio range. It was most certain that the jealous clone was now evesdropping. A plan quickly formed in Jag’s meta. “Come by after a while Scream,” he whispered as if it was to be a secret meeting. He glanced down at Opie and then back up at the Seeker. “We’ll… Talk a while before my mate wakes up.”

Realizing that Jag was giving him a way to come by and be there when Opie woke up, Scream’s wings lifted. “Yeah, uh, that’d be good.”

Jag leaned forward, his intention obvious. Scream allowed the clone to give him a tender kiss. “We… don’t want Opie to know … about this yet…” Jag lied, his optics gleaming.

Scream shivered as he felt Charge’s suspicious optics on him. “Yeah… guess you’ll have to break it to him..”

“Eventually… Let’s see if it works out first..” Jag grinned as he briefly met Doc’s knowing orbs. Fudging the truth wasn’t really that hard – once a clone was used to it.

“Yeah…” Scream breathed a sigh of relief..

------

“Fucking losers,” Speed muttered as the Prowl clone walked by carrying the wimpy Prime clone.

“Don’t be so mean Speed,” Daniel reminded him. Reaching past the clone, he turned the flow of the electrolyte solution up. They had to get all the fluxing clones submerged and cooled off as fast as they could. They’d already lost one.

The yellow clone rolled his optics as he connected the strange HotRod clone up to the vitals monitors. “They’re just losers – guess they can’t help it,” he snorted.

The aging Navy man sighed in resignation. His clone mate never would grow up – now would he?

------

Ok, super loooooonnnnnngggggg chapter. And I know I never mentioned Grammy.. I’ll get back to her next time…

BTW – if Cyclonus was the last mech you thought would be slaggin’ a clone – leave a review… I love to see how many readers I can surprise!
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Age of the Machine (Market Comodity 3)