#I suppose I could get into the smokey existential crisis of having a new frame

[lets-try-some-writing]

Please continue the Smokescreen story.

(Gore-tober Day 4 - Peaceful)

Will do!

Prompt here.

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“He won’t last at this rate.” Ratchet proclaimed as he hooked up the spark stabilizer to the Matrix. Optimus sat still on the medical berth, the container placed firmly on his lap as the connectors to his spark chamber and the relic within were attached to the delicate life fluttering within its glass confines.

“If we don’t get him a protoform, his spark will go out within the next three cycles.” The doctor sighed as he took scans and began the process of collecting Smokescreen’s memory from his processors. Arcee didn’t know much about medicine, but even she could tell that they were lucky to have even that much. Smokescreen’s frame was devastated, his limbs torn to shreds and his body contorted in ways it shouldn’t have been. She didn’t like looking at what remained of his face, it reminded her too much of Tailgate as he hung in Arachnid’s grip.

“Can he be carried by a surrogate to extend his predicted lifespan?” Optimus asked seriously as he ran his digits along the container, humming a soft tune as he did so. The Prime looked… sullen. Arcee couldn’t blame him. Smokescreen was young enough that saving his spark wasn’t impossible, but he was also likely too old to be carried for very long.

“Perhaps. But that is a last resort that I prefer we not fall to. Carrying the spark of a grown mech is-” Ratchet trailed off as he finished drilling connectors into what remained of Smokescreen’s processor. The team as a whole tensed as the implications hit them. Even Bulkhead seemed to know the ramifications of carrying a spark.

The only bots strong enough to carry a spark were Ratchet and Optimus. They had the right frame specs and their sparks were in the upper echelons signature wise. But Optimus carried the Matrix and Ratchet was older than what was safe for such a thing. Arcee would have offered her services, but she was far too small a bot to take care of a spark as bright as Smokescreen. There really was no other choice except to get the rookie a new frame if they didn’t want to risk Optimus accidentally killing him or Ratchet offlining as well in an attempt to support a spark aside from his own.

Her servos clenched into fists as she watched those gathered look between each other and the container sadly. Optimus’s optics cycled in on it as he brought it closer to himself, a song softly flowing from his vocalizer in an attempt to comfort the fragile life in his care. Bumblebee’s door wings dipped low as he placed a servo on the container as well, his field wrapping around those present in grief. Ratchet simply sighed and went about his work in silence while Bulkhead muttered a soft apology.

“You shouldn’t have had to do that newbie… I’m sorry it ended up this way.” Bulkhead leaned against the wall, his face in one of his servos while his other remained in a tight fist. Arcee for her part stared at all those present in disbelief and growing rage. Were they all just going to let him die? Were they going to lose another teammate because of the Decepticons?

“I will stay with him and do my best to ensure his passing is comfortable.” Optimus, seemingly having read her thoughts, spoke gently. His entire frame seemed to radiate grief, but he did not appear inclined to do anything aside from keep Smokescreen’s spark ablaze. Arcee wanted to scoff. What was the point of keeping his spark stable if he was just going to putter out?

She couldn’t allow that. Not again. She wouldn't lose another partner. 

“Do we still have the coordinates for the Nemesis?” She broke the solemn atmosphere as she stepped forward, her expression resolute. The team regarded her sadly, but Ratchet nodded all the same.

“We do. The Nemesis hasn’t gone far since Smokescreen…” The doctor bit his lower derma and stepped back to his console to continue his work. Bulkhead and Optimus were too occupied to pay her much attention, but Bumblebee seemed to perk up.

“You think… we might be able to get him a protoform in time?” Bumblebee’s question had those gathered finally paying Arcee the attention she needed. Her digits twitched and her spark blazed with determination. Starscream made clones of himself, there had to be more protoforms on the Nemesis being held in stasis. Arcee was the smallest, and she’d managed to get onto the ship before. If she could get on and grab just one protoform, they could save Smokescreen before it was too late.

“I’ve snuck onto the Nemesis before. I can and I will do it again.” She stared up at her fellows in defiance. She would not allow Smokescreen to die without at least trying to do something to save him.

“Cee, are you sure you can do that? Megatron must be on high alert after the Omega Keys.” Bulkhead put forward his concerns, but Arcee could sense hope in his words. He wanted to believe there was a chance, and looking around at the increasingly bright faces of the team, they wanted to believe it too.

“I can. Just let me try.” The team exchanged glances, silence overcoming the base until Optimus nodded once in assent.

“I give you permission to try. Ratchet, prepare the groundbridge.”

—----

Arcee ran as fast as her legs would allow her to as soon as she got through the portal. She had no real map of the Nemesis, but based on what she knew, the protoforms would be near the Vehicons quarters. A timer ticked on her wrist, a reminder of her limited time. They would lose the Nemesis’s coordinates within a half an hour. She had to be quick, and that meant stealth was largely out of the question.

“INTRUDER!” A Vehicon screamed as Arcee threw herself into her alternate mode and pushed her engine as hard as it would go. Her tires skidded across the ground as she pushed herself down every hall she could find in a desperate attempt to locate the protoforms she knew the Cons had. 

“SHOOT HER DOWN!” It might have been Knockout who gave the order. Arcee couldn’t be sure as she started to zigzag to dodge the fire of her enemies. The timer ticked on her arm, signaling she was running out of time as she continued her frantic search. A shot hit her back, forcing her to begin moving by pede somewhere around the fifteen minute mark. 

It burned, but she couldn’t afford to waste time returning fire. She kept moving, her every system screaming at her as she ran faster than she had ever done before. She was no racing unit, and her frame reminded her of it as she at last skidded into the section of the ship holding the protoforms. 

“Finally.” She panted as she looked up at the stasis locked protoforms. She stumbled back up and reached out to input the command needed to release one. A quick hack cut precious seconds off her timer, but before long the protoform dropped to the ground, lifeless but in pristine condition. She grit her denta as she hurried to it and pulled it along by its arm. She had underestimated how large it would be.

“You aren’t going anywhere, two wheeler.” A shot flew past her helm and Arcee stopped dead in her tracks as the slag maker himself stepped into the room with all the egotistical grace of his station. A frantic message to Ratchet had her counting down the seconds until the groundbridge would open and she could flee with her gains. Until then, she had to buy time.

“The gaurdsmech needs a new frame? I imagine his tumble from my ship did inflict substantial damage onto his pitiful body.” Megatron grinned, seemingly content to take his sweet time taunting Arcee as he moved forward. The Vehicons stepped back and Arcee dragged her gains close to herself. Her field flared in warning, but Megatron merely smiled wider.

“You Autobots must be quite desperate to send such a small bot to steal from me.” The warlord mused as he pointed his blaster at Arcee’s helm. She steeled herself, her frame in front of the protoform protectively. If all else failed, the team could retrieve the protoform over her dead body. 

“Go rust.” Arcee cursed as she readied her only free arm, her blaster lining up with Megatron’s. The warlord sneered, and Arcee prepared to be blasted into slag as the groundbridge bloomed behind her. 

“I’ve got you covered!” Bulkhead stepped through and blocked Megatron’s instinctual shot. The Decepticon leader roared in outrage as Bulkhead picked her and the protoform up and threw them both threw the bridge. She grunted as she hit the ground hard where the blaster shot hit, but she paid it no mind as Ratchet rushed forward and grabbed the protoform, not paying her a bit of attention. She didn’t begrudge him that as she stumbled to her pedes once more and closed the groundbridge behind Bulkhead as he entered. 

“Thanks for the help Bulk.” She smiled as the Wrecker tumbled in and rubbed his scorched plating. Evidently, he hadn’t escaped Megatron’s wrath unscathed. 

“Hold still! If you move he may become unstable!” Ratchet’s command echoed in the base and Arcee rushed over to watch as the medic carefully paid out the protoform and imputed the medical commands needed to open its empty spark chamber. Optimus for his part stood still as a statue, the connectors keeping him hooked up to the container holding Smokescreen’s spark glowing in response to his emotional state. 

“Come on Smokescreen, don’t reject the frame.” Ratchet pleaded as he lifted the container and ever so gently lowered it so that it hovered over the protoform’s spark chamber. Arcee could have heard a pin drop with how tense the base was as Ratchet unlocked the container. 

Not a spark said a word as they all watched in terrified but hopeful awe as Smokescreen’s spark fluttered from its container and was promptly caught in the protoform. The moment it was in place, Ratchet slammed the protoform’s spark chamber closed and stepped back. Optimus grabbed the container and Arcee moved closer to watch with rapt attention. This was it. This would decide Smokescreen’s fate. 

The air was tense enough to be cut with a knife as the protoform remained still for a worrying few kliks. But then, just as Arcee began to fear the worst, it began to shift. Protomatter began to alter, facial structures started to emerge, and within another klik, the base of Smokescreen’s old frame was easy to see. Bulkhead cheered, Arcee smiled and leaned on a nearby wall, relief flooding her spark as Ratchet praised the Allspark. Bumblebee, who had remained dutifully by Optimus the whole time, whirled in joy as Smokescreen’s vents fluttered and his systems hummed to life.

“He’s accepted the frame. He will be alright.” Optimus confirming their collective relief caused Arcee to smile wider. Smokescreen would live. He hadn’t been lost like Cliffjumper.

She’d done one thing right.