The Last of the Pure ChI

Chapter I : Attack

…

The silver hallways of the massive Autobot battleship, Artemis I, reflected under the shine of the florescent lights. The warm air was buzzing with the static of the frantic voice that echoed quietly from the office. A stampede of footsteps fell heavily on the metal floors, coming to a halt once they entered the office.

The titanic Autobots gathered around the communications radio, their audio receptors set intently on the frantic voice that fought through the walls of static that obstructed the line.

"This... Autobot Arcee... requesting immed... backup! The Dece... full scale attack... Youth Sectors in Neutral Zone 12!" The femme's frightened voice was abruptly cut off by an explosion that completely obliterated all contact with the Youth Sector.

The Autobots were running now, preparing for the expected battle that would ensue. Their leader, Optimus Prime, his armor shining gallantly in the light, barked orders at his troops, his deep voice rimmed with obvious authority.

...

When the war first began, Cybertron was divided into two territories: the Neutral Zones and the Battlegrounds.

The Neutral Zones were broken up, scattered all around Cybertron. They contained and protected civilians, providing them with safety, shelter and energon. The Youth Sectors were later relocated from various Zones to all be located in Neutral Zone 12, a completely secure and heavily protected Zone. The Autobots and the Decepticons had both created a treaty that would guarantee the safety and neutrality of the Neutral Zones.

The Battlegrounds were filled with war, its vast lands dotted with the bodies of Cybertronians, Autobots and Decepticons alike. They reached out to the outskirts of the Neutral Zones, so the set limits of the war-plagued territory was constantly guarded.

...

"There's nothing here Optimus." Sunstreaker said gravely, weakly saluting his leader. The titanic Autobot leader visibly sagged, his dark blue optics staring at the burning remains of the Youth Sector. Every remaining sparkling... dead. "I'm sorry..."

"It can't be..." Optimus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nasal plating. "They can't all be dead!"

"Optimus." Ironhide said gruffly, placing a servo on the taller mech's shoulder. "We've searched everywhere. We even had Jetfire search from above. There's not a living mech left..."

"WELL CHECK AGAIN!" Optimus roared, his dominate voice echoing around the destroyed sector. The Autobots immediately scattered, knowing better then to argue with their leader when he was in such a foul mood. Even the eerie shadows cast by the flames that lapped at the air seemed to waver.

Ironhide glanced at Optimus before he too turned to, yet again, search for any signs of a living being. He sighed, optics narrowed as he scanned the bright, fire engulfed expanse that once housed many sparklings, younglings and the femmes that cared for them.

He didn't want to be here anymore.

The deactivated bodies of hundreds of the Youth Sector's inhabitants littered the ground, their dull optics staring blankly. He couldn't imagine the terror they must have felt as they stared into the faces of their own demise. The weapons specialist passed the body of a femme, her arms still wrapped protectively around two lifeless younglings. His optics shuttered for an astrosecond before he continued on.

Ironhide trudged through the rubble, his senses on high alert for the slightest movements. The only movement, though, appeared to be himself and the dancing shadows that were cast by the bright flames that clawed at the air like a trapped cybercat.

Click. Chirp. Buzz.

The weapons specialist's audio receptors immediately perked up at the tiny noises that were barely audible over the crackling of the fire and the rumble of the occasional wall that fell at the hands of the flames. He took a cautious step forward. His scanners indicated that there was a spark signature located about 23 feet away from where he stood.

The weary idea of ambush loomed over him like a Decepticon, crimson optics flashing. Ironhide instinctively charged up his plasma cannons, a low, steady hum emitting from their bellies.

As he slowly made his way towards the energy signal, Ironhide's cannons gradually lowered. There was nothing here except the lifeless body of a youngling that appeared to have been nearing the time of his discharge from the Youth Sectors.

Click. Chirrup. Twitter.

Ironhide's optics widened. The odd noises were coming from the youngling's deactivated body. The weapons specialist reached out to touch the body, slowly uncurling him from his defensive position. He was met by optics as big, bright and beautiful as the great star Polaris.

The sparkling was curled into the youngling's deactivated body, his tiny yellow frame trembling with terror.

Ironhide was completely flabbergasted. This sparkling was by far the tiniest thing he had ever seen in his countless vorns.

"Optimus? Come in Optimus!" He radioed, staring down at the shaking protoform. The deactivated youngling had obviously been killed while trying to protect the tiny protoform, his body curled protectively around the yellow sparkling.

"Ironhide? What's your status?" Optimus' deep voice called over their communications link, his words dripping with a mixture of anguish and disgust.

"I've found a survivor! I've found a sparkling!" Ironhide leaned down to pick up the crying sparkling, but paused. He seemed so tiny compared to his big burly servos. The weapons specialist had never handled a sparkling before, let alone one so tiny and delicate. It seemed that with the smallest touch, he could break the tiny mech. It was unlike the gruff and indifferent Ironhide to be afraid of anything, but this tiny sparkling was the last of his kind, and he needed to be tender; something the rough and tumble Autobot was definitely not used to.

"We're heading to your coordinates right now!" Optimus said, hope and excitement lacing his voice.

The tiny sparkling began to wail, his big baby blue optics welling with fat energon tears. He was touching his savior's faceplate, clicking insistently at his lifeless body. Ironhide didn't understand the meaning of the many noises sparklings used to communicate, but he assumed that the little yellow mech was begging for his friend to wake up. It made his spark lurch painfully to see such anguish and confusion in the tiny protoform's faceplates.

"Come here, little one..." Ironhide said in the softest voice he could manage, gently scooping the little bot into his burly arms, his dark blue optics wide with the fear of hurting the sparkling. The tiny mech screamed and wailed, tears streaming down his precious little face. "No, no, no! Don't cry!" Ironhide said in mild exasperation, cradling the sparkling anxiously against his broad chassis.

The sound of rushed footsteps was music to the veteran mech's audio receptors. His vents let out a deep sigh, leering at his approaching comrades.

"Well would ya' look'it 'dat!" Jazz laughed, hands on his waist. It was quite the sight to behold: the trigger-happy-rip-your-optics-out-through-your-aft Autobot Ironhide frantically trying to sooth a wailing sparkling.

"I can't believe it..." Bluestreak gasped, moving to Ironhide's side to gaze down at the yellow protoform.

"He's so... tiny." Sunstreaker said, eying the little mech with a mixture of awe and fear, keeping his distance as if the little bot would bite him.

"Move aside! Outta' my way!" Ratchet's gruff voice penetrated the terrified wails of the sparkling. The Autobots that had gathered around the protoform split, allowing the veteran medic to reach the tiny mech. "Well look at you." He said softly, lowering his voice to a quiet coo, a tone that none of the other Autobots had ever heard from the gruff med-bot. "You're a tiny one." He said introspectively. "Tiniest sparkling I've ever seen."

The medic motioned for the curious crowd to part, quickly making his way back to their ship, Artemis I. He was aware of the dark blue optics of their leader boring a hole in the back of his helm, but he was worried that the tiny sparkling would not survive if he was not taken to the med-bay immediately.

"Ratchet, may I?" Optimus questioned in a small, defeated tone, reaching towards the sparkling.

"I'm sorry Optimus, but I must get him back to the ship." Ratchet said sternly, rushing up the ramp of the titanic battleship. The group of chattering Autobots followed closely, firing questions at the back of the retreating med-bot as fast as Mirage's explosive rifle.

Ratchet ran basic and extensive scans on the tiny sparkling, avoiding the stampede that appeared to be tailing him. All he could pick up was a few frayed wires and some minor dents and scratches, but he would be brought to the med-bay just in case. The tiny mech was the last sparkling, and it was vital that he be kept alive.

The med-bay door opened with a hiss, and the medic turned and regarded the following mechs with a venomous glare.

"You will all stay the slag out of my med-bay. You hear me?" He growled, not waiting for a response from the stunned Autobots before he closed the door and locked it behind him. "Shhh, little one..." He cooed, stroking the tiny sparkling's sensitive audio receptors. "You're safe now." The sparkling's wails were reduced to quiet clicks and watery hiccups as the old mech placed him on the examination table.

Ratchet pulled out a makeshift bottle of coronite-flavored low-grade energon that glowed brightly. The yellow sparkling squealed, his tiny servos reaching towards the bottle. The little tube was much too big for the protoform's mouth, but he suckled eagerly anyway, little glowing droplets dripping from the tube and down his faceplate.

The veteran medic pulled a data-chip from his subspace hold, pushing it into the slot of one of his tablets. The screen lit up, a pop-up flickering on to ask permission to download the contents of the chip.

While searching the remains of the Youth Sectors, he had managed to dig up the data-chip that contained files on all the resident sparklings, younglings and caretakers. He flipped through the countless files, his spark aching at the number of mechs that were killed in the attack. His fingers danced over the screen until they fell to a halt over the picture of a yellow sparkling, his faceplate broken by a huge grin. The file contained little information on the surviving sparkling:

Name: Bumblebee

Age: 1.4597 vorns

Creator: Unknown

Found alone in Neutral Zone 4; suffered from energon deprivation. Creator assumed deactivated.

Ratchet tapped his audio receptor as if to speed along his stalling processor. He glanced over at the tiny sparkling, Bumblebee, and placed the tablet on his desk after flicking it off. He was thoroughly amazed at the fact that a mech so young had managed to survive such a brutal attack.

"Oh little Bee..." He said softly, gathering the sparkling into his burly arms. "What horrors have these innocent optics seen?" The veteran medic mused, stroking the clicking sparkling's tiny helm. "Are you now the last of your kind?"

Bumblebee curled into a little ball, nuzzling his face into the exposed wires of Ratchet's shoulder, the partially drained bottle clutched in his servos, the tube replaced by a tiny thumb. He clicked quietly, his bright optics drooping closed. Ratchet smiled, knowing already that this tiny sparkling would wiggle his way into his own battle-hardened spark in no time at all. He could feel it already.

"Pleasant stasis Bumblebee."

...