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Title: The Future...	By : Chaosdreamer Category: Transformers > G1 > Het - M/F Views: 2723 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Transformers and all recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I am making no profit writing these stories.

Chapter List
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Title: The Future...(3/3)
Author: dreamerchaos
Rating: Mature. NC-17.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.
Summary: Sequel to my StarscreamxPerceptor drabble 'Home'.
My thanks go out to nova_myth, for our wonderful conversations about this drabble, and for inspiring me to continue. My thanks to kirin_saga, for being the first to point out that a continuation would not only be desired, but greatly anticipated. X3
Any and all mistakes are mine.
Author’s note: It LIVES! Finally finished, after so many patient and supportive readers inquiring about its status. Sorry to keep those waiting.

^^^^^^^^^

Perceptor groaned, carefully resting back into the tall seat. Hands settling over the reproduction chamber that thrummed with the small, flashing Spark of the tiny slumbering being curled up tight safely within his chassis. “I feel as if I am carrying around a wrecking ball.” The microscope sighs.

Ratchet smirks at the mech’s sighs and gestures, “I think every mech or femme who has carried a sparkling would agree with your assessment.” The medic chuckles, while carefully running a hand-held scanner over Perceptor’s torso, readings flashing and swiftly recorded into his pocket-sized data pad that he planned to deliver to Shockwave for further study.

“Is it normal for one to feel so lethargic?” Perceptor asks, head tilted tiredly.

“It’s not too uncommon.” Ratchet admits, “More so in the later stages of carrying. It probably means that your sparkling is nearly ready to greet his father and sire.”

“Suggestion: Consume Specialized Energon Supplement More Frequently.” Soundwave added from his set of machines, fingers dancing across the keypads, downloading the specs and readouts on the immature sparkling. “Lethargy: Possibly Resulting From Sparkling Consuming Resources From Perceptor’s Body.”

Perceptor’s enthusiasm in underwhelming. “Fantastic.” The scientist not eager to come within arm’s length of the special fuel he consumed twice an orn to ensure the development of his sparkling.

He was not adverse to the care of his sparkling. Rather, he wished that the energon did not tempt him into retching, the taste and slick slide of the noxious fluid making the mech nauseous with each intake.

His discomfort noted, but Shockwave insisted that the microscope continue the treatment. For the greater benefit of his offspring.

While Perceptor still argued that his chamber produced a naturally high degree of nutrition for his sparkling, Shockwave still firmly countered that any additional supplements would not harm the sparkling, either.

Recently, and a bit more unsettling, Lord Megatron had made a couple of appearances to personally oversee the status of Starscream’s pet and his unborn sparkling. While Perceptor was eager and excited to share time with Optronix and Megatron’s other pets, the Lord made Perceptor nervous. The microscope anxious over the scrutiny that the large silver mech focused upon him and his offspring.

Starscream, like the proud sire that he was, had snarled once at the Lord, but otherwise held his glossa. Hovering around Perceptor whenever Lord Megatron was in audience upon the estate.

Once, to both the Seeker’s and the microscope’s shock, the Lord laid a hand upon Perceptor’s chassis, black hand spread wide, listening quietly to the young being curled beneath the plating. A pale flash of a grin gracing the Lord’s lips.

“This one will be a fine, strong mech.” The Lord deigned, removing his hand finally. Perceptor literally collapsing back into Starscream’s arms in relief and an gust of released tension. Megatron’s optics bore into the red and cobalt mech’s azure gaze, “Give him a proper designation once he is born. A strong name that is suited for one with a promising future.”

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” Perceptor bowed his head in service.

Ratchet leveled a sharp scowl at Perceptor’s mate. Daring the Seeker to entrench deeper within the medic’s domain ¯ even while Ratchet and Soundwave were guests upon Starscream’s estates ¯ the red and white medic showing no tolerance for interruption when with a patient, “I trust that you have kept your hands to yourself during this later stage, Starscream?”

Starscream growled at the medic, “I know how to take care of him! And my sparkling!” The Seeker sneered.

Ratchet’s lips twist in mirth. “Just as long as you let Perceptor have proper recharge during the night cycle, and keep your amorous advances to yourself.”

From the other side of the room, Thundercracker hides a smirk behind his hand. Skywarp is far less eloquent, heaving a guffaw of laughter at Starscream’s expense.

“Mute it.” Starscream snarls at the black and purple jokester. Turning again to face his previous opponent, determined to match the medic in wit and perseverance. Not even deigning to compliment the idea of being sent scurrying from the room because of the medic’s stern glare.

This was his estate, fraggit! Ratchet should feel honored that the Seeker has not tossed him out the door and on his aft.

“How long until Shockwave pulls up the results from all of these tests?” Starscream crosses his arms across his cockpit, matching Ratchet’s glare.

Soundwave verbally steps in before the medic releases a tongue-lashing. “Estimated Time: One Orn. Shockwave Requests Starscream’s Presence During The Morning Cycle.”

“While you,” Ratchet points a finger at Perceptor’s chest, interceding the microscope’s obvious question, “will remain on the estate. It is too late in the sparkling’s development for you to be traipsing across Cybertron.”

“You and Prowl maintained your duties while you were carrying!” Perceptor hated the whine evident in his voice.

Ratchet scowled, looming over the mech, “Both myself and Prowl possess frames providing more room and convenience to naturally carry a sparkling. You are slighter and mass, not by much, but enough to cause concern. And the sparkling¯”

Soundwave abruptly cuts in, silencing the medic with a pointed look. “Perceptor: Remain On Estate. Decision Has Been Made.”

The microscope scowls, crossing his arms sullenly across his chest. Pointedly jerking his chin away from both the medic and the telepath.

Starscream’s ruby optics narrow.

Interesting. He would be quite curious to find out tomorrow during the morning joor in his meeting with Shockwave, the reason why they were not willing to openly discuss his sparkling in front of Perceptor.

^^^^^^^^^

Starscream’s optics swiftly read the lines of data and charts laid out across the surface of the work table. On the opposite side, Shockwave stands tall and straight, yellow optic narrowed, watching the Seeker for his reaction.

It is disappointing. “What is the problem, then?” Starscream demands, flicking his hand at the printed read-outs, finding nothing to overly impress or concern him.

“Here,” Shockwave indicates one particular sheet, sliding it into the middle of the table.

Starscream looks at the read-out once again. “I know what it is, Shockwave.” Starscream scans over the vibrant black and white image of the sparkling, curled into a tight fetal position, within the cocoon of heat and nutrient-rich energon tubes connecting to the reproduction chamber. The tips of his blue fingers carefully traced the small image of his sparkling.

“Look At The Dimensions and Size Measurements Of The Sparkling.”

“What? Here?” Starscream reads the small legend at the corner of the data sheet, “Where is the prob¯” His voice halts, shoulders hitching as the data finally computes, “…oh.”

“Correct.” Shockwave slips the data sheet from underneath the Seeker’s hand, pulling it to optic level, yellow gaze re-reading the data he has immersed his CPU in for the last few joors. “Sparkling: Unusually Large For His Development Age. Size Could Incur…” Here Shockwave pauses to find the correct choice of words, “…Complications.”

“Such as what, exactly?” Starscream’s head is spinning at the implications. Primus, no wonder Perceptor felt lethargic. The size and weight of the sparkling he was carrying, and the amount of nutritional fuel needed to support his unborn creation…

“I…” Shockwave pauses yet again. Starscream can count with one hand the number of times he has ever seen the mech appear so uncertain. “I…Do Not Know.”

^^^^^^^^^

“You’re hovering.”

“I am not.”

Perceptor’s lips smile. “Yes, you are. And doing a poor job of hiding it.”

“Such cheek.” Starscream nuzzles into his smaller mate, arms encircling the mech from behind. Pulling the unresisting mech into his arms, Perceptor curling against the Seeker’s fuselage.

“What troubles you?” Perceptor asks after a moment or two in silence, curled with his lover upon the large berth in their private rooms. Beside Starscream’s knee, two cups of energon remain untouched, while another flask that contained the special energon supplement for the microscope and his unborn sparkling remaining pointedly untouched.

“…it’s nothing.” Starscream stutters in the middle of his lie.

“Starscream…”

“Hush.” The Seeker commands, arms squeezing tighter. Reaching for the special flask, he teases the wafting mixture in front of the microscope’s nose. “You need to drink.”

Perceptor expresses his disgust in a moue of complete displeasure. “What a revolting concoction.” He bemoans, but finally takes the flask from his mate. “I am of the opinion that Shockwave despises me and is forcing me to consume this noxious waste as a form of petty vengeance.”

“I’ll be sure to share that assessment with him.” Starscream snarks.

“You do that.” Perceptor reaches up, pinching his nostrils, taking a deep breath before tossing the flash back, quickly swallowing the terrible drink. After five deep swallows, Starscream takes the empty container before Perceptor drops it, the microscope gagging. “It’s horrible!” Perceptor retches, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Starscream is not about to contest the microscope’s assessment. The smell alone from the few drops of liquid remaining in the flask made his olfactory sensors curl in dread.

Putting the flask aside onto a nearby shelf, Starscream coaxes the regular cup of energon into Perceptor’s shaky hands. Picking up his container and clinking the edges of the cups together in silent salute.

The energon manages to wash away the last dregs of the terrible concoction from his glossa and mouth, Perceptor gusting out a sigh of relief when he is able to swallow without tasting the disgusting flavor.

Starscream removes the containers, placing them beside the first flask. Immediately afterwards he begins dropping a trail of short, nipping kisses along the microscope’s shoulder, collar, and neck. Perceptor twisting the sensitive plating away from the teasing mouth.

“Star-Starscream!” Perceptor whines. Wrists seized by one of the Seeker’s hands, pressed into the lower plating of his lap. He squirms, while Starscream’s outstretched legs holding him captive, pushing against his legs and sides. “Ratchet said¯”

“Ratchet is not here.” Starscream rasps. Fingers dipping down to tease the seam of the microscope’s interface port plating cover. Drawing a wracking shudder from his bound mate, wrists twisting within his grasp, “IF Ratchet were here, he’d be in for quite a show.” The Seeker chuckles, unabashed.

“St..Starscream!” Perceptor gasps, chagrined by the Seeker’s audacity.

The Seeker purrs, flicking his glossa along the smooth arch of his pet’s audio. “I love the way you say my name.” He teases the seam between Perceptor’s thighs, the slimmer mech’s lower limbs quaking, unconsciously spreading open wide in answer to the caress.

A few more swift caresses and the interface cover snaps open. Slowly, drawing out another quiver from his mate, Starscream dips the tip of two fingers into the mech’s port.

Perceptor whines again, helm bumping the tall fuselage at his back. He shudders, lips splitting open in a soft cry when the fingers begin a slow pump back and forth until the appendages remain buried up to the first knuckle. “Mmmnn-” His vents churn to life, activated by the outpouring of heat flushing his dermal plating.

“Please!” Perceptor’s wrists struggle to break free. Whining and quaking under the slow, torturing pace, “Please move!”

“Slower, then?” Starscream purposely misinterprets the microscope’s plea, “All right, if you insist.”

Starscream’s grin nips at the back of Perceptor’s neck as the mech releases a mournful, “Noooo…”

Enjoying himself at his own leisure, Starscream slows the pumping action, brushing damp fingertips along the mouth of the port; spreading the wax of pale lilac fluid into an abstract canvas along the inner plating of his thighs.

Perceptor meets the kiss halfway when Starscream nudges their cheeks together. He swoons under the bite of denta and the twirl of glossa, answering the nipping kiss with a smooth slide of glossa flicking along the sharp canines.

Vents beginning to heat as well, Starscream thrusts in answer against his pet, grinding his cockpit against the mech’s posterior, rubbing against Perceptor, drawing a sharp screech of metal and a echoing shriek from his mate into the cavern of the Seeker’s mouth when his fingers drive deep, pushed inward by the thrust of the microscope’s hips against his.

Their lips split apart with a wet pop, Perceptor gasping, arching against the cradle of the hand nestled between his thighs. “Y-You’re trying to…Nnnn-…d-distract me…”

“Am I succeeding?”

Perceptor’s dentas chatter, but he is insistent, shaking his helm fiercely.

“Then I’ll just have to try harder.” Echoing his challenge by plunging the fingers much deeper, instilling a more violent reaction, Perceptor nearly falling out of his lap and from the berth, jolted so sharply by the deep plunge.

“Starscream!”

Relentless, he probes and flicks the mouth and cavern of the mech’s port, rolling and thrusting cockpit and hips in accord with his mate. Establishing the ancient dance of union and desire, sharing one’s body with another, sending them spiraling faster and harder and higher together.

It does not take long before Perceptor tumbles over the precipice. Arching and shuddering, limbs locked, mouth bumping Starscream’s, the Seeker drowning the microscope’s rushing cries with eager lips destined to respond to its mate.

Slumping against Starscream’s front, as if the struts were forcefully, in one swift pull removed from throughout his frame. Panting erratically, flushing his body with cooler air, Perceptor lolls within Starscream’s embrace, whimpering when the Seeker finally slips his fingers free from his port.

Extremely pleased with himself and not caring that his frame burned hot for the other mech, Starscream allowed his long body to recline on his side, pulling the microscope in tightly. Rubbing a soothing hand up and down the mech’s back.

Pleasant disposition swiftly slipping away when Perceptor slowly turns around, nuzzling against his chest, “What troubles you so much, Starscream?” The mech is persistent. Annoyingly so.

“Nothing.” The Seeker’s voice coldly insistent.

Perceptor traced his palm up and down the gold glass of his cockpit. Stirring a shiver of pleasure from his mate, “Is it about the sparkling?”

The sudden rigidness of Starscream’s frame damns him, revealing the source of his agitation.

Perceptor slowly continues, “…Because the sparkling is possibly capable of optimization into a Prime?”

“Who told you that?” Starscream’s snapped, privately relieved that the discussion has taken a minor turn from what was his greatest concern.

Perceptor shrugged. “Hook mentioned it during the renovation of the solarium.”

‘That fragger…’ Starscream growls.

Perceptor cuddles closer, flexing his hands against Starscream’s chest. “You shouldn’t be so concerned. It is speculation,” He soothes, “Shockwave even admitted in agreement with Soundwave and Lord Megatron that while there is potential for optimization, it doesn’t mean that it will ever take place. There are equally suited younglings who also possess developing traits and schematics for optimization.”

“Hhrm.” Starscream huffs, “As if anyone could hold such promise as my offspring.”

“Our sparkling,” Perceptor is quick to remind. Glaring sternly at his mate, “You forget who is carrying our offspring.” He pokes a finger into the Seeker’s chest in retribution to the proud boasting.

“No, never,” The Seeker pacifies, nuzzling the smaller mech. Hand massaging the microscope’s chassis, laying the dark dermal plating of his face against the red paint, burrowing into the heat and thrum of Perceptor’s chassis, “I wouldn’t even dream of such a thing.”

Perceptor sighed. Hand cupping the back of Starscream’s helm, fingers tracing idle patterns across the larger frame curled against his chassis, “Everything will be all right, Starscream.” Perceptor is calm and relaxed. Wishing to pour his level of serenity into his mate, to share and lessen the burden of the Seeker’s private dark thoughts.

Starscream is quiet. Pressing his mouth against the warm plating, lips firm with grim concern, ‘I hope Primus shares your wisdom.’ The Seeker prays.

^^^^^^^^^

A fortnight pass and the tension among the estate lessen. Security drones and Seekers finally relaxing, venting a sigh of relief that there is no ill talk or trouble astir, confident that the unsettled atmosphere has finally lifted.

Feeling confident in the well-being of his pet and the security of the estate, Starscream decides he is finally willing to venture to a mandatory conference hosted in Iacon, rather than to sit in front of a large video console in order to sit in on the meeting. Assembling with Megatron and his High Commanders during a two-orn conference to discuss the progress of Cybertron and the proposals for exploration and expansion into nearby galaxies.

Eager to enjoy a small reprieve from the pestering and hovering of guards and mate, Perceptor quickly organizes several activities, coaxing Red Alert to join him.

They share small talk while sitting at the ornate table in the solarium, a Cybertronian version of ‘chess’ set up between them.

Perceptor sips delicately from a wide chalice, hiding a pleasant grin, while Red Alert scowls at the game board. “Your move, Red Alert,” The microscope teases his friend.

The red and white mech folds his arms, scowling at the game pieces. With a put-upon sigh, he finally moves a piece, sliding the tall figure of an arched tower diagonally across the board.

Perceptor reaches for his own piece. Freezing when a bead of energon hits the center of one of the white tile squares of the game board.

Lifting his hand to his mouth, Perceptor rubs away the tiny stream of energon trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Oh, forgive me.” He apologizes, embarrassed that he has seemingly spilt his drink.

Red Alert shares his frown.

Blue optics meet, then drop to the game board when several more fresh beads of energon dot the game board and pieces.

“…Perceptor?” The whimper lifts the microscope’s optics.

Across the table from him, Red Alert lays a trembling hand over his mouth.

Mimicking the gesture, Perceptor jolts when a wet smear of energon streaks the palm of his hand.

A wet rattle shakes his chassis. With a violent cough, energon spatters his lips and chin.

Optics wide in surprise and fright, Perceptor slams a hand into the flat plates of his chest. “o-oh…” He stutters, energon gurgling from his mouth.

A steady, dripping rainfall of energon trickles to the floor beneath his seat and table. Glowing streams and beads of energon slipping from his mouth and in between the plating of his chassis.

“Perceptor!” Red Alert’s seat falls backwards onto the floor, the mech jumping to his pedes.

Not as fortunate, Perceptor’s own legs cannot hold his weight. He falls to his knees, hanging onto the side of the table. “I…I think I need to get to the Medical Ward.” Perceptor wheezes.

Arms catch him as his hands, slick with energon slide with a wet squeak from the rim of the table.

^^^^^^^^^

“Blitzwing!”

“What!” The triple-changer gripes, dipping from formation.

“What?” Astrotrain asks. The shuttle dips and raises a wing in an aerial version of a shrug, pulling parallel with the other flying mech.

“Why did you call out?” Blitzwing demands.

“I didn’t.” Astrotrain calmly fires right back at him.

“BLITZWING!! ASTROTRAIN!”

He recognizes the voice now that he knows what to listen for. “It’s Red.” He takes a wide turn, coming around to draw closer to the Lamborghini.

Before Astrotrain can demand to know what would cause the red and white mech to raise his voice in such a manner, the reason swiftly comes apparent when the triple-changers’ scanners find the mech.

Hands held far away from his chest, horns burning hot and setting of white and blue sparks, Red Alert stares at in wide disbelief and horror at his own fresh energon-soaked forearms and hands.

^^^^^^^^^

“What happened?!” First Aid runs to the side of the medical berth just as Thundercracker runs in, carrying the limp microscope in his arms.

“I don’t know!” The blue Seeker, shaken, quickly and carefully lays the offline mech upon the table, “Do something!” He snaps.

First Aid is quick and precise, running diagnostics while connecting intravenous feeds into his patient. Easily discerning that the immediate problem was the fact that the mech was literally bleeding out all over the berth and floor.

“It’s the sparkling.” First Aid shudders, scanning the readout. On the screen, he watches as the dark image of the sparkling twisting and shifting about, pushing against the walls of the chamber that had nurtured and protected it for so long, “He’s yanked the chamber from the walls of Perceptor’s chassis. It’s causing the chamber and torn lines to bleed out into his internal systems.”

“He’s¯” Thundercracker does not finish. Behind him, the steel-gray door whisks open. Skywarp rushing into Medical.

“Quickly!” Thundercracker intercepts him, “Get Ratchet! Soundwave…Anyone! And locate Starscream and tell him to get his aft back here!! Get going!”

“Gone!” Skywarp teleports without a second thought.

^^^^^^^^^

“Boss, there’s a weird bug on the window.” Rumble’s voice pulls Soundwave from the computer terminal.

“I’ll show you what a bug looks like, you little insect!” Skywarp curses, practically smeared over the outside surface of the large glass windows looking out onto the Academy grounds.

“Skywarp: Explain Yourself.” Soundwave minimizes the window page on the screen, turning to peer at the Seeker hurling barbed threats at one of his Cassettes.

Waving his arms frantically, Skywarp sputters in panic. “Perceptor! Sparkling! He’s bleeding out! Get to the estate!”

Rumble and Frenzy quickly get out of his way as Soundwave suddenly leaps to his pedes. “Ratchet…Supplies Will Need To Be Gathered…And Arrival Will Take At Least Half A Joor¯”

“You worry about getting there!” Skywarp interrupts, “I’ll get Starscream!”

He teleports, leaving the telepath to find his own means of transportation to the Seeker estate.

^^^^^^^^^

Starscream is in the middle of speaking, criticizing one of the thesis presented by a sub-commander when Skywarp literally barrels into his back.

“Skywarp!” Starscream howls.

The black and purple jet wraps his arms around his Trine leader, babbling, “Perceptorbleedingandthesparklingwegottagettotheestatenow!”

Megatron, Prowl, and Shockwave are only a few who have suddenly risen in uproar at the interruption and frantic announcement.

Skywarp does not give them the time to demand further answers, immediately pulling Starscream in tight as he warps back to the estate.

“Return to Optronix and Bumblebee,” Megatron commands, Prowl bowing to his Lord as the large silver mech ordains him to return to his mate and sparkling, “I believe the rest of us will require one of the faster transport shuttles in hopes of reaching the Seeker estate before that bastard of a security system is switched online.”

^^^^^^^^^

The black and purple jet is next to useless when they stumble onto the large landing strip of the estate. Falling to his knees, Skywarp heaves, reserves drained from such long distances covered in such short amount of time.

“Go!” Skywarp barks, on hands and knees, regaining his composure, “I just need a klik to recover!”

Starscream does not question him. He covers the short distance to the residence in Seeker mode, transforming and barreling through the open doorway in bipedal form; nearly beheading two security drones whom bleat in alarm, running in circles as they switch on the security systems to place the state into lockdown.

“What happened?” Ramjet and Dirge flank him as he strides swiftly down the halls. Thrust running ahead, leading the way.

“Not sure.” Dirge grunts, “Red Alert was suddenly screaming about energon and Perceptor offline…Took both Blitzwing and Astrotrain to restrain him.”

“Security’s already scanned the energon that they were drinking while in the solarium.” Ramjet adds, “No signs of poison or foreign substances. No signs of forced entry or struggle. The chances of this being an act of a terrorist or a personal vendetta¯”

“I don’t care what conclusions you have made!” Starscream’s temper is short. His restraint far shorter still, “Lock the estate down! Only Level One clearance allowed in! Shoot anyone else out of the sky!”

“Already done,” Thrust is one-step ahead, “But surely the problem is only the sparkling¯”

“I will not take any risk.” Starscream snarls, “Especially when we still don’t know the entire cause of what led to this. Whatever may or may not be at fault, I will not tolerate further endangerment to my mate, my sparkling, or this entire estate!”

The Coneheads separate at the next intersection, rushing to finalize the containment of the estate.

Starscream breaks into a sprint, the doors to Medical barely having enough time to open before he falls through.

^^^^^^^^^

“And I’m telling you we have clearance, you over-clocked mecha-rat! Now let us land!” Ratchet rattles the video screen, while Blaster and Soundwave try to pull him back.

From the other side of the screen, the security drone beeps and chirrs, spindly arms flapping.

“I am Medical Officer Ratchet! And I am ordering you to allow this vessel to land!”

“Step aside.” Megatron pushes Ratchet to the side with a firm hand.

Glaring at the security drone that persisted to obstruct his path, Megatron growls out the entry code yet again, “Lord Megatron, gamma four-twenty-two-nine omega delta nine-three-seven. Lower the shield and power down the aerial guns and mortars.”

Shockwave steps forward, continuing the dual sequence of code necessary to allow them entry, “Shockwave Elite. Twelve-One-Eight-Eleven-Six Prima Nova Sequence Omega.”

The radar continues to shriek a claxon of warnings and screens flash red, marking the locked gun turrets and online security grid surrounding the estate.

To the visible relief of many of the ship’s occupants, the battlements suddenly power down, weapons lowering. Shield falling.

“Took you long enough.” Dirge greeted across the comm. link.

^^^^^^^^^

First Aid bowed aside when Ratchet stormed into Medical, followed by the rest of the entourage except for Lord Megatron.

“You,” Ratchet points at Starscream and the rest of his Trine, “Out.”

Online finally, Perceptor hangs onto Starscream’s hand. Expression frantic, “D-don’t…don’t leave me.” One arm wrapped across his chassis, slipping among the streaks of energon persisting to trickle out from his frame.

Starscream’s lips curl back in a snarl, eyes furious.

Blaster and Soundwave seize his arms, jerking him to his pedes.

“Unhand me!” Starscream kicks and spits, heels dragging while pushed roughly towards the door. “I’ll rip your guts out!”

Shockwave’s mere presence sends Thundercracker and Skywarp running. The large mech shoving into Starscream’s face, “Clear Your Head. Perceptor: In Critical Condition. Requires Our Focus. Not To Be Distracted By Your Temper Tantrum.”

Soundwave and Blaster yank Starscream back before his curled hands can reach Shockwave’s neck.

“We’re here to help!” Blaster wraps both arms around one of the Seeker’s, digging his pedes into the ground, “Think about Perceptor! Think about the sparkling!”

“I AM!” Starscream roars.

“You have to let us. Do. Our. Job!” Ratchet joins the assault, “We want to save both of them! They are both in danger! We may have to terminate the sparkling if the bleed continues for much longer!”

“NO!” Perceptor rears up from the table, First Aid frantically pinning him back down.

Together as one, the four mechs are finally able to overpower the Seeker. Sending him crashing through the doorway in an ungraceful heap. The Seeker shrieks in fury, ready to rush the door if it had not slammed shut in his face. The key pad flashing red to indicate that the internal locks had been activated.”

^^^^^^^^^

“Save him.” Perceptor moans, helm bashing against the table as another spasm splits his chassis. “Don’t let him die!”

Ratchet squeezed the hands scrabbling feebly at his wrists, face bereft, “Perceptor.” His voice hitches in an angry sob, “I don’t know if I can stop the bleed and pull him out of the chamber intact.”

“…p-please…”

Blaster and First Aid push the wide tables of equipment up to the side of the berth. Soundwave meanwhile heating the edges of the sharp tools with a lit torch, Shockwave carefully scrutinizing the array of equipment.

Ratchet manages to tear his hands free, squeezing them into tight fists. Visibly forcing himself to turn away from the berth, “Get me another bag of analgesics. Anything to lessen the pain…”

First Aid scurries to follow the medic’s hollowed command. Ratchet staring at the medical table and its occupant like it was the first surgery he had ever performed.

Shockwave stepped forward, looming over the laboring, agonized patient. Pressing Perceptor down with his one hand, “Ratchet: Assist Me.”

^^^^^^^^^

Hunched over, Starscream is ready to peel the paint from his cranium. Snarling, twisting left and right, returning to glare at the locked door.

Megatron is far more collected. Face impassive, but betraying his reserve by running a hand up and down the smooth barrel of the mounted fusion cannon upon his right arm. No doubt remembering the frantic period during Optronix’s labor.

Well into the night cycle, the key pad beside the locked door flashes green.

Starscream and his Trine are on their pedes, all three sitting at various posts through the hall. The Coneheads and triple-changers making themselves scarce, no doubt laying low while the storm raged.

Ratchet stepped into the hall, face lowered, using a large silvery cloth to finishing drying the energon stains from the tight seams between his fingers.

Megatron raises an optical ridge when his pet medic locks gazes.

Ratchet nods once, and then turns to Starscream. “He’s online.” He states, face grim.

Starscream shoves past, and Megatron allows the rude broach in protocol as the Seeker rushes ahead of his Lord; Thundercracker and Skywarp nipping at his heels, following the Lord’s steps that are more casual.

Shockwave and Soundwave step away from the table, finishing in laying down the last pieces of equipment.

From the table, a shrill, angry chirr greets the Seeker as he steps close.

Perceptor slides a hand up and down the sparkling’s broad back, the white, green, and purple sparkling growling up at his Sire. “He takes after you in temperament.” The microscope manages a shaky smile, optics a milky-blue, in a daze from the painkillers and the warmth of his creation stretched across his chassis. A long, glaring weld down the length of his chassis is a stark reminder of the surgical procedure that had saved and delivered the sparkling into his arms.

“The bleed was contained.” Blaster whispered to the stunned Seeker, leaning close, “They managed to pull the chamber out, and that stopped most of the energon loss. They think the sparkling may have kicked one of the main tubes free when he twisted around. That’s what caused the initial bleed.”

“Not surprising given the damage that was done, the little terror,” Ratchet adds, stepping into the ward. Casting a baleful look at the sparkling, “He’s as big as most younglings. He’s built of stern stuff, if we have anything to go by when he practically tried to bite my fingers off.”

Starscream sneered in pride.

“Sparkling: Functioning In Excellent Condition.” Shockwave inputs.

“Design: Never Before Witnessed.” Soundwave adds.

“What are you implying?” Megatron intercedes before Starscream can demand further explanation.

Shockwave and Soundwave share a look before turning to their Lord. “Sparkling: Not Groundbound Mech. Not A Seeker. Not A Triple-Changer. Much More.”

“Explain.” Megatron waves them to continue.

“What?!” Skywarp whines, already bemoaning the loss of his bet against Swindle on the sparkling being a seeker. Thundercracker smacks his palm against the back of the mech’s helm.

Shockwave pauses, “…Sparkling: Not Three Modes. Not Four. Six Different Modes.”

The revelation leaves Starscream visibly reeling.

“Six…” He whispers.

“But one’s a Seeker mode, right?” Skywarp hops up and down. “Please tell me one is a flight mode!”

Soundwave humors the mech. “Correct.”

Skywarp whoops, cackling and pumping a fist in the air. “WooooHOO! Wait until I tell Swindle!”

“Technically he has six modes.” Thundercracker reminds him.

“Still a Seeker mode! I win by default!” Skywarp is gone like a shot, “Get ready to hand over those credits, you greedy fragger!” Skywarp cheers, rushing to collect his victory wins.

Starscream kneels by the side of the berth, after pressing a smothering of kisses and caresses upon his mate’s face and helm. Level with the sparkling that was carefully scrutinizing him, Starscream answered the challenging chirr with a curl of lips and a growl of denta.

Perceptor wheezed out a breathless chuckle as his mate and sparkling squared off. Already foreseeing many minor battles and staring contests between the two in the coming future.

Megatron steps forward, reminding the Sire and Father of his presence. “Have you given him a designation?” Impressed by the fortitude of Perceptor’s endurance and perseverance to deliver his sparkling in one content bundle of snarling joy, the Lord is curious to discover the little one’s designation that may in fact decide his future.

Perceptor stared down at the nuzzling sparkling for a long time. Running a finger down the curled spine, stirring a delighted shiver from the little one. The sparkling squeaking, purring as he burrowing against the microscope’s warm plating, “…Sixshot.” Perceptor whispered. Looking down at his creation with an immeasurable rising sense of pride, “His name is Sixshot.”

^^^^^^^^^

MANY, MANY VORNS LATER…

^^^^^^^^^

“Father.”

Perceptor turned away from the viewing terminal. Smiling up and his creation.

Battle mask concealing his expressions, but never completely succeeding in masking anything from his Father, Sixshot stepped forward, towering over the microscope.

“You’re hovering.” Perceptor chuckled.

Sixshot ducked his head, embarrassed when caught red-handed, “Are you ready? Starscream is waiting at the shuttle.”

Perceptor’s laughter bubbles forward, reaching up and stroking that proud face, Sixshot unabashedly rubbing into the gesture, “You know how he hates that you do not call him by Sire.”

It is easy to any mech, blind or not, that a smirk teases Sixshot’s lips behind the face guard, “I enjoy exploiting him and his temper.”

“Clearly not because you surpass him in height and weight and¯” Perceptor leaves off with a shrug, both sharing a private look of mirth and truth, ‘Well, surpassing him in nearly everything.’

The height difference in Starscream and his creation drove the Seeker into near fits of distemper, the mech not capable of reasoning why his sparkling developed into such a towering monster!

Possessing six different modes, in addition to the results of many vorns of military training and scholastic studies, Sixshot was both revered and viewed as a tyrant in the eyes of those in his age group. No doubt, his training under Megatron did not help to stir jealously among the others, but Sixshot took it in stride, and on occasion handled the altercations with his fists if he deemed the situation worthy.

Sixshot surprised them all by firmly, unmoved by pleas or threats, stating that he would be joining his Father and Sire on the scientific excursion to explore the far reaches of Space. Designating himself as primary security and tactile support for the small party of scientists and students journeying to the stars to explore the possibility of extraterrestrial life forms.

Megatron, while not delighted by the temporary lose one of his strongest soldiers, allowed the mech to join Starscream and Perceptor. Knowing that all aboard the Ark would return to Cybertron, as commanded, and with the spoils of such a long period in study and observation of solar systems of uncharted territories.

“Are you anxious?” Perceptor strode beside the taller mech, taking two steps for every one of Sixshot’s.

“It…will be far different than anything else I have experienced.” His creation admits.

Perceptor nods in agreement, letting the hand against his back lead him towards the ship awaiting its final passengers, Sixshot snarling at two dockworkers too slow in getting out of their path.

“I’m nervous and excited as well,” Perceptor glanced up at the ruby optics watching his every expression. Smiling and tapping his fist against Sixshot’s forearm, “But I have both you and Starscream to accompany me. The two mechs who share my Spark. I could not possibly be any happier.”

“I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us.” Sixshot hums, his excitement showing. Optics bright with the possibilities, “We can fly together. Spear the skies, just you, Starscream, and me. No one else to tell us to slow down or watch for other fliers….I could carry both of you at once. We would rule everything.”

“Dangerous talk,” Perceptor teased, “One would think you aspire for things far greater.”

“I have my Father and Sire. You make me feel…warm.” Sixshot peers back, tilting his helm, “What else is there to desire?”

Soon they reach the ship. Starscream standing at the top of the walkway, tapping his pede in exasperation.

“Finally!” The Seeker gripes, “What were you two doing? Strolling through the entire city?”

Sixshot strides up the metal walkway, smacking his hand into the middle of Starscream’s back, hard enough to make the Seeker yelp and wobble, “Don’t whine. It’s unbecoming.” Sixshot reproaches his Sire for his lack of tact.

“You¯” Starscream chokes, unable to spit out the right words, “You brat!”

Perceptor steps aboard the massive vessel. Turning to watch the the walkway retract and the docking doors begin to slowly seal shut.

‘This is not goodbye, Cybertron,’ Perceptor turns, following his family into the depths of the ship, ‘This is the beginning of our future together.’ Flanked by his creation and his mate, Perceptor knows that he is taking a piece of home with him. Cybertron would be there on their return.

The most valuable pieces were right here within arm’s length.

THE END

Author’s Note: Finally found a reason to write Sixshot into one of my fics!! Found him fascinating ever since I read the Spotlight: Sixshot comic and his appearances in the IDW comicverse.
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Title: The Future...