Sparkling Troubles

Chapter 19

I know, I know, I'm a horrible person for abandoning this story for almost four months. I hope the newest part does not disappoint. :D

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"Bee?"

Smokescreen nearly whispered the name, optics wide as saucers as he stared at the newcomer in surprise. He barely noticed the pain of the collision and the fall as he stood back up from where he'd been flung. He tilted his helm in suspicion.

"Bee is... not Bee," he finally determined, turning to the older and much bigger bots in the room. But they weren't paying attention. They were all focused on either Bumblebee or the still-swirling green portal. Smokescreen knew that Optimus was fighting that scary seeker right on the other side.

When the little mech turned back to his best friend, he looked angry. The black and yellow mechling stood with his arms crossed and a disgusted look on his young faceplate. His weight was shifted to one side in a cocky pose. Smokescreen decided that he didn't like this new Bumblebee.

The intruder seemed to remember something and turned to run in the general direction of the big storage closed. Probably to hide, Smokescreen thought to himself.

"Yep, yep." Ratchet reached down and swept the escaping youth upwards. He pinned Bumblebee's arms down in a tight grip. "Don't wanna lose ya again."

Bumblebee replied by growling and swinging one leg out away from the medic before wrenching it back and kicking the older mech straight in the sensitive abdomen plating. Ratchet reacted with a loud 'oof!' and dropped Bumblebee in favor of wrapping his arms around his belly in pain.

The escapee cackled and landed on his servos and knee plates, scuttling upwards to continue his run to the storage closet. Once again, however, he found himself in the air. Bulkhead had plucked him up as if he was a feather; but unlike Ratchet, wrapped one arm around his torso, keeping his arms down, and the other arm around his short legs. 

"You're not goin' anywhere!" Bulkhead nearly laughed at the youngling's struggles, which were no, match for his brute strength . "Ya little bugger."

Arcee's attention was diverted when the groundbridge made its way into the corner of her vision. She shot her arm out and closed it. No taking chances when the 'Cons could easily send in more troops. She just hoped that Optimus was doing well out there. Starscream was a more-than-worthy opponent, as she'd learned from past experience. She returned her gaze to the no longer struggling 'Bot-turned-'Con and rested her servos on her hip struts. She almost couldn't wait for the sparklings to grow up, a wish that had been the complete opposite just a few days ago.

As the older Autobots sedated Bumblebee (which took much longer than any of them had expected), Smokescreen had come to the conclusion that something very wrong was happening. His vents were beginning to close up again, he could feel the bio-mechanisms struggling to suck in air. His frame heated up without the circulation to cool it down. 

"'Cee, vents," he squeaked as Arcee walked nearby. When she turned and caught his optic with a questioning tilt of her helm and furrowing of her optics, he pointed to one of his vents and elaborated, "Vents are being naughty. Need medicine."

Smokescreen took the opportunity when Arcee had him sitting in her lap as she administered the medication to ask her a question. "Cee," he began, but had to pause to put together the sentence he wanted to say. "Opt is fighting. Why? I want Opt back here, with me and Bee."

He could see the sadness in Arcee's expression. He apparently did not understand that Optimus could come back either online and well, or in several dented pieces. "Optimus is fighting for us," she told him as she put away the nano-tech device. "So we don't have to sacrifice ourselves."

She wasn't allowed the time to finish as Ratchet peeked his helm out of the med-bay and gestured into it. "Arcee, in here."

Said femme nodded, patted Smokescreen's helm, and exited the room to go do whatever Ratchet needed of her.

The little mech who was left behind ex-vented in a sort of sigh and swung his pedes over the edge of the crate he used as a seat. His glance, somehow, kept wandering over to the inactive groundbridge. He dragged his crate over there and activated it by pulling down on the big lever that was just low enough to the ground to be reached with help from the crate.

He hopped down and jogged to the big portal. He had to look up even to see the bottom of the swirling shape. He crouched and sprung upwards to hop over into the bridge. Without another thought he ran to the end and popped out of the end.

He landed right on his faceplate. He spit mud (when did it start raining?) out of his mouth and shuttered his optics rapidly to rid them of the dirty stuff. He raised his helm and looked up-

Only for his entire field of vision to be filled with the blood red color of a Decepticon's optics.