10Working Title: None... Couldn't think of one.
Rating: T
Pairing: slight Arcee/Smokescreen
Main appearances: Ratchet, June Darby
Summary: June takes a shortcut through the wrong place at the wrong time and decides have a doctor explain some things to her.
Notes: This was the boneless beginnings of a fleeting plot bunny that mutated into a study of Cybertronian relationships and reproduction. I don't know if I'll ever use the whole theory in a story, but I was pretty pleased with how it rolled in the rarity of femmes, why every femme has boobs, the borderline indifference the guys show about Arcee being the only femme on the team, why femme's exist when there's the Allspark, and how transformers come in every shape, size, color, ability, etc.
June Darby jerked her head off the desk with a gasp. She looked around, trying to figure out why she wasn't home in her bed. Then she remembered her home and her bed were a pile of rubble.
Alright fine. Then, why wasn't she in her apartment on base?
She yawned, peeling a post-it off her cheek and looking up at the wall clock in the light of her desk lamp. Nine thirty? Crap. That meant she'd forgotten to call tech support in Las Vegas about that damned x-ray machine. No one would be out to look at it until Monday at the earliest – probably more like Tuesday with how slow they worked. Sometimes she really wished she could tell people Earth was in danger of being destroyed.
Ugh. She'd never hear the end of it from Jack for falling asleep at work again either. At least it was Friday. He was probably still out with the bots or in their hangar.
The bots … Hey, maybe Ratchet could look at it. She hated bothering him, especially now that they were constantly on alert, but she needed that machine fixed. The human soldiers were getting banged up as much as the bots.
If she cut around the back way, maybe she wouldn't bump into Jack, and it would look like she'd been coming from home instead of work. Not that she had to explain herself to her son, but still …
June grabbed up her purse and jacket, double checked to make sure the medicine cabinets were secure, and locked the door behind her. Good so far. No kids. No Bill. No bots. She skirted around the corner of the building. Behind the hangars, she could cut across the dark rows of Humvees to the other side of base without being seen.
It was still warm on the blacktop from the heat of the day. She missed taking walks in Jasper. Her and Jack used to walk down to the gas station for sodas when she got home at the end of her shift, late at night. It had been their special time to just talk. June had known new, cooler friends would come along and replace mom eventually, but she'd never imagined giant, alien robots.
Speaking of which, she heard the sound of engines approaching from the desert. Must be time for the changing of the guard. Not wanting to be tattled on by the bots, she ducked behind one of the trucks as a familiar motorcycle engine and what sounded like one of the fancy race cars drove past. But, to her surprise, they slowed down and transformed to their feet before getting to the buildings. Surely they hadn't seen her.
They were 'speaking' in their native language. She recognized Arcee's voice immediately from her hiding place. She'd heard it more than a few times. Jack's guardian's voice seemed slightly higher than her imitation of human vocal cords. It was hard to describe – sort of like a giant dolphin trying to speak 90s Dial-up Modem but somehow with the cadence of a legitimate and oddly beautiful language. At least the dolphin analogy fit Arcee. The other bots she'd overheard were deeper-sounding, maybe more like whales. Not that she heard many whales in Nevada.
Then there was Optimus in a league of his own, as always. She could have listened to him speak English all day, but his real voice was the kind of sound that reverberated in your chest – the kind that one could have heard over legions and the roar of battle or over a political conference. She could have stood glued to one spot until she starved to death listening to it.
To her surprise, she was almost sure the warbling trill in Arcee's unique voice was unrestrained laughter. What was this craziness? Too curious to resist, June peeked around the side of the Hummer on the shadowed side.
Smokescreen darted close to the comparatively tiny bot, and she jumped back to avoid him catching her but still flitted the fins on her back and smiled at him. The doors on Smokescreen's back lowered submissively as he crooned a deep reply to her, his hands lifted and placating.
Arcee chirped curtly, crossing her arms over her chest and turned to begin walking away toward the hangar. But, then she made no effort to hide glancing over her shoulder to see if Smokescreen was following.
Smokescreen straightened, his doors perking higher. Then, his expression slid to a smirk, and he startled June when he lunged toward Arcee at a sprint, shaking the ground with his footsteps and causing the Humvees to sway.
Arcee moved like lightning, rolling away from him as he grabbed for her again, scolding him with clicks and bursts of static. She spun and leaped effortlessly out of his reach again, landing on the back of one of the Humvees so lightly, it hardly moved on it's shocks, grinned at her pursuer, and put a finger to her lips. Both stood stock still for several moments.
They were playing. Most impressively, Arcee was playing. But, as interesting as it was to see the usually sober bot having fun, June was torn between keeping her cover and making her presence known before she got stepped on.
Before she could get her feet under her, Smokescreen bolted faster than something his size should have been able to move – and, this time, in unnerving total silence. Arcee tried to strafe to the top of another vehicle, maybe thinking the heavier bot wouldn't be able to pursue her without damaging the trucks, but Smokescreen faked her out, corralling her into going right and caught her in a tackle. He made more noise and sparks trying to keep his weight off of the lighter bot than anything else, and Arcee was unable to get away.
She squeaked and trilled at him, trying to wriggle free. June thought she heard Smokescreen's engine idling as he liberated one hand to cover Arcee's mouth, and it almost drown out the sound of his whispering in Arcee's ear. The motorcycle gave a final flutter of defiance then seemed to relax. The noise deepened to more of a sensation in the air than a hum, and Smokescreen grinned smugly, letting her face go.
He lifted Arcee up to get her fins out from under her and resituated his weight, still speaking to her softly as the humming tone rose and fell. Arcee was calming down more, and June realized the sound Smokescreen was emitting might be intended for soothing or lulling. Was he apologizing for being too rough maybe?
Arcee finally smiled again and wrapped her arms around Smokescreen's neck and slid her hands beneath the plating on his back and between his doors. They rose again to full-alert, and his expression changed to one of exquisite pleasure as she nuzzled at his cheek.
It was too late to leave her hiding place by the time June began to suspect what might be getting ready to happen. There was no way she was revealing herself now. Arcee would never talk to her again (if she was lucky), and she didn't know Smokescreen well enough to be sure he wouldn't be angry. Not least of all, she didn't want them to think she was intentionally spying on them, but she wasn't in a good position to NOT watch either, much to her embarrassment.
There was the sound of shifting metal, and Smokescreen fished Arcee's legs free for her to get her feet out of his way. She let his neck go in favor of moving her attention down to Smokescreen's chest which he seemed to enjoy almost as much as having his doors played with. The hum had become a more familiar deep, clicking purr. That definitely cemented her theory that their 'bad lifter' noise, as Bill called it, meant the bots were content and happy.
Smokescreen was undoubtedly both right now. Arcee's hands were tracing the edges of his plates, dipping into seems, caressing, and exploring as they flared and lifted for her fingers. The hand supporting his weight shifted to where he could cradle her head as he continued to purr and rumble whatever the equivalent of sweet nothings were for giant, alien robots.
June was beginning to hope again that this was only going to get to third base when Arcee crooned at him and arched against Smokescreen. His free hand came to her back to pull her into his hips, and the rumble deepened further as Arcee's feet swept up to lock behind his thighs. She whirred with quiet restraint, giving up tickling in favor of digging her fingers into a gap in his armor on his side above their hips.
It occurred to her that bots, with their crazily skewed sense of time, might consider a quickie several hours long, but just then, a spotlight on one of the towers came on and swept over the armory lot. The bots jerked to attention and quickly – if reluctantly – separated. Plating snapped back over their exposed anatomy, and both transformed to their wheels before driving back out toward the desert with their whisper-quiet auxiliary engines.
June stood up. The guards were looking for what was making the noise. She really didn't want to get caught looking like she was sneaking around the base at night. When the light fell on her, she shielded her eyes, trying to look like they'd caught her just walking along, minding her own business.
"Ms. Darby?" She recognized the young voice of one of her patients, Pvt. Foster, over the megaphone.
"Yeah!" she shouted back. "Sorry! Trying to sneak past my son! I'm out past my curfew!" she smiled.
"What was all that noise?" The private seemed to have forgotten he wasn't talking to her about about his his allergies in her office but was yelling at her while she was being blinded by a bazillion watt bulb.
"I didn't see. Maybe the bots scared some coyotes out of the trash or something?"
For a moment, it was quiet as he undoubtedly radioed his superior officer.
"Okay. Sorry, Ms. Darby."
The light went out, leaving her in dazzled darkness as her eyes adjusted for several moments. When the stars and thumbnail moon came back into focus, she continued on toward Ratchet's hangar before anyone else stopped her.
Thankfully, neither Jack, Arcee, or Smokescreen were with him. The ambulance was bent over his workbench, engrossed in some sort of repair. Optimus had wanted Ratchet to have one of the fighters with him in the hangar all the time, but it hadn't even been a week before the medic had nearly had a mental breakdown from his personal space being invaded 24/7. They'd given him some breathing room again, but she was sure one of the others was seconds away in another hangar if Ratchet commed for help.
He looked up at the sound of the personnel entrance closing, but looked back to his work after seeing who it was. Not disrespectfully. It was just by now June's company didn't distract him. It was a compliment.
"Nurse Darby," he greeted cordially.
"Good evening, Doctor," she smiled. She still had to make herself not step closer for friendly conversation with the metal giants.
"I believe Jack is out with Miko and Bulkhead."
"I figured. I actually came to see you."
"Oh? Is there something I can help you with?" He glanced down at her, and she was sure she was scanned. "Your core temperature is elevated, and your hormones seem to be slightly abnormal. Maybe it's menopause."
"NOT appropriate," she reprimanded delicately. They'd had a conversation not long ago about what was and was not okay to diagnose out loud to people. STDs, pregnancy, ovulation and menstrual cycles, and just recently Bill's hemorrhoids had made it onto the list. "Nothing's wrong with me. I actually came to ask if you knew anything about x-ray machines."
He paused, looking inward a moment, then met her eyes again. Googling, Miko had explained.
"Yes," he said. "Why?"
"Well, the clinic's is on the fritz – again – and they can't send a tech out until next week sometime. I was wondering, if it's not too small to work on, if you could take a look at it? Maybe there's a quick fix that could hold us over."
The medic released a blast of air through his vents thoughtfully.
"I'd be happy to try," he nodded. "Things have been quiet lately, and I know injuries don't take vacations – especially on military bases."
"They sure don't. Thank you, Ratchet. I'll get someone to help me pull it out of the office in the morning. I really do appreciate it."
"You're most welcome. Any time I can help. Was that all?"
Ratchet didn't seem like the type to want to idly shoot the breeze even if things were quiet, but she didn't leave. June had too many questions, and they were both medically-minded, professional adults, right?
"Actually … there is one other thing. I wanted to ask you something, but if it's too weird or personal, I'll keep on minding my own business." It all spilled out in half a breath, and she felt her core temperature rise further.
"What?"
"Umm, you see, I think I may have accidentally seen something."
"Something. You're being very vague," he observed bluntly.
She sighed. It was okay. Human social norms were alien to them.
"Arcee … and Smokescreen might have been … being intimate when I was cutting across the armory lot. Or is that something you guys even do?"
Now, he turned to face her, giving her his complete attention.
"Of course. Most species that experience emotion, organic or otherwise, desire companionship and sensuality," he explained but thankfully deduced from her temperature and expression that that hadn't been the question she'd wanted an answer to and vented another human-like sigh. "They were interfacing."
"Interfacing? It … looked a lot like how … organics … do it. Reproduce, I mean."
"Organics on Earth," he clarified. "Since life here evolved on a Cybertronian, constantly exposed to energon, it's no surprise we share a lot of similarities. But, most everywhere else in the known universe, sexual reproduction – especially our particular version – is highly uncommon."
"But, I guess I thought you guys all came out of some kind of well."
"The vast majority of the sparks in our bodies have come from the Well of Allsparks, yes. But, it merely regulates; it isn't what creates new life in that sense," he explained patiently. "The Well is more like … like …" He Googled for a second. "For lack of a better comparison in your culture – Heaven. When our bodies cease functioning, our spark will return to the Well to be … er, recycled, I suppose. But, some do get lost. Exceptionally terrible crimes resulted in ones spark being imprisoned and not allowed to return, for example. Any kind of space travel is always a risk. Black holes, sun spots, radiation storms … all sorts of variables can keep a spark from making the return journey. After the Allspark was jettisoned off planet during the war, no one knows if any of the sparks lost since have been able to return to it."
That had to be a terrifying thought – after living for millions of years, sure in the fact that you would be reborn, then to be told when you died it was forever.
"So, you're saying female bots make new sparks to make up for the loss."
"Correct. However, that's not what her and Smokescreen were doing."
"Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully. "If you do it the same as us, it really looked like they were trying."
"Did you see their sparks? A bright light housed behind their chest plating," he clarified.
"No. Nothing like that."
"Then it was just a transfer," he dismissed. "I knew it was only a matter of time before he won her over."
June smiled as politely as one could while having such a conversation about a female she respected and considered her friend.
"I sort of got the impression the only interest Arcee had in Smokescreen was babysitting him."
Ratchet smirked slightly but nodded. "I think you're misreading it. Smokescreen tends to get into trouble BECAUSE Arcee's not paying attention to him."
"Ohh … I see," she grinned.
"I don't know what started it, but Smokescreen's been courting her for months. Arcee would never admit it, but the attention and having a warm energy field to look forward to has improved her spirits considerably since her last partner was offlined. She just needed someone that didn't feel sorry for her and was too cocky and dense to believe her the first few hundred times she turned him down."
"Courting? Like, he wants to marry her?"
"Sort of … but not quite the same thing. He's earning her trust and trying to impress her in hopes she'll eventually merge sparks with him. After that, if they like what they see in each other, they'll start developing a stronger kind of bond than just teammates and interfacing partners."
June smiled. "Then, they'll start making new sparks?"
"Hopefully they will eventually. We have to survive this war first," he said, sobering a little. "But it goes without saying we would all fight for the privilege of seeing our code sparked by a such proven warrior we've come to care so deeply about."
"Well, it seems like you might have to settle for just seeing Smokescreen's if he keeps it up."
Ratchet shook his head with a patient smile.
"I'm afraid I might be crossing into your definition of inappropriate again, or at least weird and personal, but reproduction is polyamorous with our kind. Smokescreen would undoubtedly be her new spark's sire and its secondary caregiver and guardian, but Arcee would need all of us to be its creators."
June blinked mutely, feeling the blush creeping back again.
"Smokescreen's desire to interface and bond with Arcee has nothing to do with gender or reproduction. We bond simply for comfort and companionship. You could've just as easily witnessed Bulkhead and Wheeljack out for a midnight run. But, it takes a village to raise a child – as well as create it and protect it."
"So, you're saying a sparkling can have more than one father?"
"And multiple 'mothers' if there were other femmes around," he explained. "It's why our frame sizes and abilities are so diverse. No two Cybertronians have the same code. Even what you would call identical twins from the same split spark are only identical until their gestational stage is over," he explained then smiled. "You look very confused, but not nearly as offended as Agent Fowler and his superiors when I explained this to them."
June smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Either I'm in shock, or after six semesters of biology and a nightmare pregnancy without any help, it doesn't sound too crazy or terrible to me."
"I believe it might be the later," he said approvingly.
"So, what's the difference?" she had to ask. "Between a 'sire' and a …"
"Creator," he supplied. "Not much. But, I believe that explanation would require a better understanding of the entire process," he proposed, kneeling to offer his hand. "If you're curious and can keep an open mind."
June stepped up and was lifted and deposited on the medic's workbench. She took a seat on one of the crates near what he had been working on and smiled.
"I'll do my best to keep my prejudices to myself."
Ratchet nodded resolutely, picking up a tool to finish the project she'd interrupted.
"Right then. As you've noted before now, we only have two genders like you humans. Females – femmes – all have sparks with a negative polarity. This makes them have highly efficient systems which enable them to spark. Except for very heavily modified ones, all femmes are close to the same frame size as Arcee since their hardware has to fit in specific areas. Males – mechs – can be any size from memory sticks that could sit in Arcee's servo, to city titans, to planets. All a mech needs to not be female is a spark with a positive polarity. Any other equipment and programing is irrelivant – sort of like the X and Y chromosome structures in organic DNA."
June nodded for him to continue, following so far. The doctor gathered his thoughts a moment, studying the articulator before him.
"So merging, the part you thankfully didn't see, is what initiates the first stage of sparking. It's much more intimate than a quick transfer and doesn't happen nearly as often. I imagine human intercourse would be a lot less casual too if it involved cracking open your ribcage to expose your beating heart and offering your mind like an open book."
"I know Jack wouldn't be here," she confessed dryly.
"Anyway," he continued, "during a merge, sparks with opposite polarities act like magnets. The positive spark will pull the negative into it until the femme's spark has taken on enough of a charge for the mech's to let go. For a very brief window, the femme's spark will retain the charge. She can even pass it to another femme if she chooses. But, in a few days, her spark will return to its natural polarity. If it doesn't have sufficient energy to facilitate a split, then nothing happens. It takes a great deal of energy to split a spark. While it is theoretically possible for a femme to overcharge herself enough on several tanks of highgrade, the much more conventional method is to take it from a mech. The vast majority of male Cybertronians have the means of refining and storing a highly concentrated form of energon specifically for females to use. That is what a transfer is, and I'll spare you the details of that particular facet of reproduction since, as you observed, it's nearly identical to human methods."
"Yes, thank you."
"Also, like with humans, it's how a mech's CNA code is integrated," he added. "Now, before we get to splitting sparks, you need to understand that female Cybertronians, even before the war, made up less than one percent of the population. Personally, I believe this was what kept our numbers from exploding since we can live a considerably long time. But now …" he said, shaking his head gravely. "Airachnid and Arcee are the only two we know of. Even Wheeljack said Arcee was the first femme he'd seen since he left Cybertron."
That had to be an equally terrifying thought for Arcee. It was probably even the reason the Decepticon femme had avoided joining up with Megatron's crew.
"So, female sparks are very VERY rarely created. If a femme's spark returns to it's negative polarity before it splits, it will always shed a positive spark. A negative is always the sum of a positive and a negative – the same as in mathematics. However, if she maintains her positive charge by regularly merging with male sparks, there is a chance she'll shed a negative spark since algebra also dictates a positive can be either the sum of two positives and two negatives. Still with me?"
"Math … wasn't my thing. I get femmes are rare. Can we pretend that's good enough?"
He vented another sigh but nodded.
"Any other questions so far?"
She shook her head.
"Alright. So after the new spark splits from it's carrier's, it moves to her gestation chamber, and a femme will begin processing material to encase it and eventually to build a very basic chassis for it, much like how human gestation evolved. We all have alloy modifiers. Their primary function used to be to process metals as we 'grew' to our final frame and armor. As adults, mechs' are only used to process material in order for us to heal after serious injury. But, a femme's will also activate to nurture developing sparks through the second and third stage of development and is how her CNA code is introduced."
"Just curious, but how long is your kind's gestation cycle?"
"Not long. Gestation alone would only take about a few decades of your time. Sparking varies based on the strength of the sire's spark and adds anywhwere from a few months to over a year before the second stage."
"Not long? If pregnancy in humans lasted thirty years, we would've gone extinct," she tried not to laugh.
Ratchet smirked.
"Sorry. Anyway ..."
"Right. Well, gestation takes even more energy, and the need increases exponentially as the sparkling develops. Again, mechs are usually glad to donate as she uses it up, and every time, more code is thrown into the mix. One mech could do it alone if he had to, but by the end of the third stage, a sparkling is burning through so much energon so fast, he wouldn't be much good for anything other than refueling, refining, transfering, and recharging. But typically, a femme establishes multiple sources - mechs she trusts or is close to like her crew, teammates, or friends. It's not unheard of even to simply choose creators at random based on favorable traits."
"So, how would other females be creators?"
"Ahh - glad you brought me back to that," he admitted. "After a sparkling completes the gestation cycle, it still needs refined energon and modified alloy until its systems are mature enough to fully process those things on its own. So, like Earth mammals, femmes have external spiggots for their modifiers to continue nurturing sparklings. And, any female can (and will do so happily in most cases) nurse any sparkling. Even Well-borne sparklings instinctively prefer a femme over formulated alloy and will integrate her CNA and any mechs' she's using."
"So, will the seven of you be enough?"
"It will be a bit of a strain, but so long as the energon holds out here - or if we ever return home - we'll manage."