Glances Into a Spark - Shipshape
Title: Glances Into a Spark - Shipshape
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings: Ensemble
Rating: PG
Summary: Roll out the TNT , Anchors Aweigh.
Sail on to victory
And sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray!
Warnings: One frisky word. Thanks, Skids
Notes: This is in celebration (or maybe mourning) of extending my contract with the Nav for an extra three years. God help my soul.
Table of Contents
o o o
Sam admitted to being surprised. He'd seen pictures of aircraft carriers before, but he'd never though of where they actually stored the planes (and it wasn't like they could leave them outside - topside, their Navy liaison called it- if there was a monsoon or something, and the thought had never crossed his mind)
The huge hangar in the heart of the ship was big enough that Optimus could stand upright and only hit an occasional fluorescent light, stretching most of the ship's length and crowded with people, planes, a couple of helicopters and the occasional officer's private car. Sections could be closed off, but there were too many planes overlapping the boundaries and the Autobots themselves didn't particularly care about privacy, so no one bothered. And the second day of the trip, Sam was pretty sure than every sailor on board managed to alter their usual route through the ship to pass by and ogle.
Most of the Autobots didn't really care about that, either. Of the whole group, only Ratchet and Bumblebee had escaped enough damage to prevent transformation, which meant that Bumblebee was the only one in vehicle mode, his doors open and music crooning through the space, and Ratchet was moving among the others, tending to their injuries. Arcee and her sisters retreated to the safety of the space between Ironhide and Optimus, peering out between the two huge 'bots legs to glower at the passing humans, but they had never felt at ease around humans, anyway. Sideswipe was lounging, stretched full out on the floor (Ratchet's orders, actually, since his tires were still repairing themselves) and he preened in the attention like a movie star by the beach. Jolt was exploring everything he could, including humans. Ironhide and Optimus were the most heavily injured, and they sat on the floor, propping each other up and dozing, giving their systems time to recover.
And the twins (after spending the first night huddled in a clump in the Prime's lap, that is) were dancing around, singing 'In the Navy' and 'I'm on a boat' as loudly as they could.
Sam stretched out on Bumblebee's hood, subtle vibrations from his friend's chassis like a massage on his tired, cramping, beat-to-hell muscles. He had a bed, in a semi-private room he shared with Leo, but only up here in the noise and music and squawking from officers that Jolt startled was he able to relax. There was still whispering in the back of his mind, still alien words and symbols crawling across flat surfaces, but he was getting the hang of this. He could work with this, and hell, he wanted to work with this, because if even a tenth of what the voices whispered was true, he'd be the greatest theoretical physicist on Earth.
Drifting a little, watching an equation for the electrogravatational pull between two moons scroll across Sideswipe's back, Sam didn't notice the way Ratchet paused, staring off blankly, until Bumblebee switched from low-volume blues to blare out 'Doctor, doctor, gimme the news!' The Autobots all paused their various activities, looking at Ratchet.
Ratchet ignored them, his eyes flickering wildly, and Sam knew from Bumblebee that that meant Ratchet was scanning his surroundings on every frequency he could. "Prime," he said, in Cybertronian and Sam didn't notice that he could understand it, even if he'd never be able to speak it. "There is another of our kind here."
Watching Optimus go very still and very tense broke Sam out of his sleepiness completely. He sat up, curling his fingers into Bumblebee's grill. "Where?" Optimus asked, low and hard.
"I don't know," Ratchet replied, frustrated. "The signal is everywhere."
"Hail them. On every frequency."
'There's no need for that,'Sam thought, then froze, because he hadn't thought it, and that sure as hell wasn't like the whisperings. 'Tell that medic to stop pinging my sensors. I will talk when I am good and ready.'
Sam floundered. There was an alien robot in his head, talking to him. His mouthed worked helplessly, evident enough that Ironhide gave him an odd look. "What is it, boy?" the big truck demanded, cutting across Sam's panicky thoughts.
"He wants you to stop," Sam squeaked. Ratchet turned towards him, confusion writ on his face, and Sam cleared his throat. "He- actually, I think it's a she, she sounds like a she, though I don't think you guys really have hes or shes and-"
"Sam," Ratchet snapped. "Did someone contact you?"
Sam nodded jerkily, Bumblebee revving with unease under his butt. "She wants you to stop, um, pinging her sensors. She'll talk when she's ready."
"Will she talk to you?" Optimus asked.
'I will,' the voice replied. 'These mechs may be my enemy. I will not speak with them until they prove otherwise. And since they killed my leader, they will have to prove themselves very well.' A pause. 'You are not. You feel as the great Prime's felt. What are you, little one?'
"Yeah, she will," Sam said out loud. "She thinks you guys are the enemy, but I'm not, since I feel like, um, a Prime, I guess?" 'How are you even talking to me?' he demanded internally, trying to aim the thought at the voice.
'You have a private communication channel, just like any other mech,' came the reply. 'Though I am sure you are not one. Why did the large one kill the Fallen?'
Oh god. She was a Decepticon. 'He wanted to kill us', Sam answered. 'And destroy my planet and eat our sun.' He hesitated. 'The Fallen was your leader, wasn't he?'
There was a thrum, like a disapproving frown. 'He was not. We parted ways from the Fallen long ago, little one. No, my leader was Jetfire, who died so that the large one may wear his parts. Who is the large one?'
'Optimus Prime'
Another thrum, and Sam realized with some unease that he could feel it, physically, and judging by the way the Autobots were looking around, he wasn't the only one. 'I'd be tempted to say that he is no Prime, had I not known that he killed the Fallen. Is he just? Is he compassionate? Does he care for his and those around him?'
'He died for me,' Sam snapped. 'He died so that the Fallen and Megatron couldn't get to me and use my brain to find the harvester and destroy our sun. The old Primes gave me the Matrix to bring him back. They believe he's a Prime.'
'You lie.'
Sam dredged up that horrible, terrifying memory, of death and pain and the awe-inspiring Primes standing above him, and he shoved it in the voice's direction as hard as he could. All of the Autobots flinched, staring at him, and he wondered if he'd sent to all of them by accident. The voice shrieked once and went silent, and the entire ship shuddered. "They gave me the Matrix for him," Sam growled out loud. "They told me to bring him back, and I would have done it even if they hadn't, because I believe in him."
Optimus looked at him, surprised and concerned. Everyone was looking at him. 'The Autobots are humanity's allies,' Sam continued, ignoring the eyes watching him. 'They're teamed up with Major Lennox's men, to keep Earth alive and whole. Jetfire killed himself because he believed Optimus was the only one who could kill the Fallen. And if it wasn't for Optimus, we'd all be dead.'
A contemplative little hum, and the ship's announcing system squealed with electronic noise. Sam and all of the rest of the humans cringed, covering their ears. The noise cut out a moment later, and what sounded like an old woman came across the line. "Passengers and crew of the USS John C. Stennis," she said. "My name is Brightwork. I greatly apologize for keeping my presence and identity a secret for so long. Please know that from this point on, I will no longer hide, not from those I work with. Major Lennox, could you meet with Captain Wilder on the bridge? I would like to speak with you both."
Another electronic squeal, shorter this time, and the ensuing silence was broken by an awestruck Skids. "Holy sheeeeit," he drawled, grinning widely. "She's th' ship."
Fandom: Transformers
Characters/pairings: Ensemble
Rating: PG
Summary: Roll out the TNT , Anchors Aweigh.
Sail on to victory
And sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray!
Warnings: One frisky word. Thanks, Skids
Notes: This is in celebration (or maybe mourning) of extending my contract with the Nav for an extra three years. God help my soul.
Table of Contents
o o o
Sam admitted to being surprised. He'd seen pictures of aircraft carriers before, but he'd never though of where they actually stored the planes (and it wasn't like they could leave them outside - topside, their Navy liaison called it- if there was a monsoon or something, and the thought had never crossed his mind)
The huge hangar in the heart of the ship was big enough that Optimus could stand upright and only hit an occasional fluorescent light, stretching most of the ship's length and crowded with people, planes, a couple of helicopters and the occasional officer's private car. Sections could be closed off, but there were too many planes overlapping the boundaries and the Autobots themselves didn't particularly care about privacy, so no one bothered. And the second day of the trip, Sam was pretty sure than every sailor on board managed to alter their usual route through the ship to pass by and ogle.
Most of the Autobots didn't really care about that, either. Of the whole group, only Ratchet and Bumblebee had escaped enough damage to prevent transformation, which meant that Bumblebee was the only one in vehicle mode, his doors open and music crooning through the space, and Ratchet was moving among the others, tending to their injuries. Arcee and her sisters retreated to the safety of the space between Ironhide and Optimus, peering out between the two huge 'bots legs to glower at the passing humans, but they had never felt at ease around humans, anyway. Sideswipe was lounging, stretched full out on the floor (Ratchet's orders, actually, since his tires were still repairing themselves) and he preened in the attention like a movie star by the beach. Jolt was exploring everything he could, including humans. Ironhide and Optimus were the most heavily injured, and they sat on the floor, propping each other up and dozing, giving their systems time to recover.
And the twins (after spending the first night huddled in a clump in the Prime's lap, that is) were dancing around, singing 'In the Navy' and 'I'm on a boat' as loudly as they could.
Sam stretched out on Bumblebee's hood, subtle vibrations from his friend's chassis like a massage on his tired, cramping, beat-to-hell muscles. He had a bed, in a semi-private room he shared with Leo, but only up here in the noise and music and squawking from officers that Jolt startled was he able to relax. There was still whispering in the back of his mind, still alien words and symbols crawling across flat surfaces, but he was getting the hang of this. He could work with this, and hell, he wanted to work with this, because if even a tenth of what the voices whispered was true, he'd be the greatest theoretical physicist on Earth.
Drifting a little, watching an equation for the electrogravatational pull between two moons scroll across Sideswipe's back, Sam didn't notice the way Ratchet paused, staring off blankly, until Bumblebee switched from low-volume blues to blare out 'Doctor, doctor, gimme the news!' The Autobots all paused their various activities, looking at Ratchet.
Ratchet ignored them, his eyes flickering wildly, and Sam knew from Bumblebee that that meant Ratchet was scanning his surroundings on every frequency he could. "Prime," he said, in Cybertronian and Sam didn't notice that he could understand it, even if he'd never be able to speak it. "There is another of our kind here."
Watching Optimus go very still and very tense broke Sam out of his sleepiness completely. He sat up, curling his fingers into Bumblebee's grill. "Where?" Optimus asked, low and hard.
"I don't know," Ratchet replied, frustrated. "The signal is everywhere."
"Hail them. On every frequency."
'There's no need for that,'Sam thought, then froze, because he hadn't thought it, and that sure as hell wasn't like the whisperings. 'Tell that medic to stop pinging my sensors. I will talk when I am good and ready.'
Sam floundered. There was an alien robot in his head, talking to him. His mouthed worked helplessly, evident enough that Ironhide gave him an odd look. "What is it, boy?" the big truck demanded, cutting across Sam's panicky thoughts.
"He wants you to stop," Sam squeaked. Ratchet turned towards him, confusion writ on his face, and Sam cleared his throat. "He- actually, I think it's a she, she sounds like a she, though I don't think you guys really have hes or shes and-"
"Sam," Ratchet snapped. "Did someone contact you?"
Sam nodded jerkily, Bumblebee revving with unease under his butt. "She wants you to stop, um, pinging her sensors. She'll talk when she's ready."
"Will she talk to you?" Optimus asked.
'I will,' the voice replied. 'These mechs may be my enemy. I will not speak with them until they prove otherwise. And since they killed my leader, they will have to prove themselves very well.' A pause. 'You are not. You feel as the great Prime's felt. What are you, little one?'
"Yeah, she will," Sam said out loud. "She thinks you guys are the enemy, but I'm not, since I feel like, um, a Prime, I guess?" 'How are you even talking to me?' he demanded internally, trying to aim the thought at the voice.
'You have a private communication channel, just like any other mech,' came the reply. 'Though I am sure you are not one. Why did the large one kill the Fallen?'
Oh god. She was a Decepticon. 'He wanted to kill us', Sam answered. 'And destroy my planet and eat our sun.' He hesitated. 'The Fallen was your leader, wasn't he?'
There was a thrum, like a disapproving frown. 'He was not. We parted ways from the Fallen long ago, little one. No, my leader was Jetfire, who died so that the large one may wear his parts. Who is the large one?'
'Optimus Prime'
Another thrum, and Sam realized with some unease that he could feel it, physically, and judging by the way the Autobots were looking around, he wasn't the only one. 'I'd be tempted to say that he is no Prime, had I not known that he killed the Fallen. Is he just? Is he compassionate? Does he care for his and those around him?'
'He died for me,' Sam snapped. 'He died so that the Fallen and Megatron couldn't get to me and use my brain to find the harvester and destroy our sun. The old Primes gave me the Matrix to bring him back. They believe he's a Prime.'
'You lie.'
Sam dredged up that horrible, terrifying memory, of death and pain and the awe-inspiring Primes standing above him, and he shoved it in the voice's direction as hard as he could. All of the Autobots flinched, staring at him, and he wondered if he'd sent to all of them by accident. The voice shrieked once and went silent, and the entire ship shuddered. "They gave me the Matrix for him," Sam growled out loud. "They told me to bring him back, and I would have done it even if they hadn't, because I believe in him."
Optimus looked at him, surprised and concerned. Everyone was looking at him. 'The Autobots are humanity's allies,' Sam continued, ignoring the eyes watching him. 'They're teamed up with Major Lennox's men, to keep Earth alive and whole. Jetfire killed himself because he believed Optimus was the only one who could kill the Fallen. And if it wasn't for Optimus, we'd all be dead.'
A contemplative little hum, and the ship's announcing system squealed with electronic noise. Sam and all of the rest of the humans cringed, covering their ears. The noise cut out a moment later, and what sounded like an old woman came across the line. "Passengers and crew of the USS John C. Stennis," she said. "My name is Brightwork. I greatly apologize for keeping my presence and identity a secret for so long. Please know that from this point on, I will no longer hide, not from those I work with. Major Lennox, could you meet with Captain Wilder on the bridge? I would like to speak with you both."
Another electronic squeal, shorter this time, and the ensuing silence was broken by an awestruck Skids. "Holy sheeeeit," he drawled, grinning widely. "She's th' ship."