Ghosts

Epilogue

"Hey! Wait up!"

It's been six months since the hatchlings arrived.

"You sure your name is Speedy? I would've guessed something like... Slow Mo!"

"Good one, Bro!"

And we‘ve been transferred to a new location, out in the desert.

"Is not funny! Wait!"

Moonracer lounged back onto her elbows and watched as seven hatchlings raced by, kicking up dust in their wake. And then comes little Speedy, her intakes wheezing; the poor thing was nowhere near fast enough to keep up with her nestmates.

“Take a break, kid...”

The petite, cobalt youth landed back onto her aft and peered up at her idol. “Is not fair!” she pouted, crossing her arms. “Nothing’s fair, Speedster. That’s just a fact of life.” Speedy shook her helm and huffed, “Dun call me Speedster, mkay? Am not... fast.” Moonracer gave a sad smile and comm’d her own beloved offspring:

*Scope?*

*Yes, Mama?*

*You and your friends - come to me, please.*

*Yes, Mama.*

In no time, the horde of munchkins scrambled to Moonracer’s location. Scope stopped abruptly at her feet, causing the rest to tumble over him. “Gah, stupid Sway! Get your butt out of my face!” cried Steel. With a hearty kick, the little racer sent Steel to the ground in retaliation.

I may question why I end up playing the babysitter, but... in the end, I enjoy it.

“Why are you so mean to each other?”

“We are not mean to each other; we love each other... Is not that right, Steel?”

The red mechlet cringed and forcefully gathered his twin into his arms; “I love you,” he gritted out. Jambox beamed and gently elbowed his brother. “Wellah love. you. tu.” Moonracer shook her helm and looked to Scope, knowing he to be the primary instigator.

“I believe you hurt Speedy’s feelings...”

...a series of mumbles...

“Scope...” She allowed her voice to carry in an almost threatening manner.

With a sigh, the hatchling stomped over to the sniffling femme and held his arms out in silent submission. Speedy looked between Moonracer and the mechlet before giving in, scooting over to return the hug.

“Dude! I want a hug!”

The gunner glanced to Sway as he was climbing up the rock she was seated upon, soon accompanied by Killa, Cross, and Nitrous. As the hatchlings started to get comfortable around her body, Moonracer took the time to absorb their features; they were looking more like their sires by the day! Of course, it was normal for hatchlings to take after their fathers. At least the females somewhat resembled their carriers.

I was hoping for a girl... she mused, reaching down to stroke Scope’s helm. Psh, of course I love my son! We could always have another one...

Moonracer giggled at the thought of Perceptor surrounded by hatchlings. She moved to lay back fully, letting the Littles curl around her warm armor.

“I see a turtle.”

She turned her head slightly to see Killa staring up at the sky. She then returned her gaze upward and watched the ever-changing clouds above. “Do they have c-clouds on C-Cybertron?” he inquired. The femme smiled sweetly and gently poked his nose; “I can’t remember, to be honest.” Killa frowned and settled against her shoulder. “Dad’s g-gotta tough j-job, doesn’t he?” It almost broke her spark to hear him struggle with his words...

All of the hatchlings suffered from one glitch or the other.
Speedy had deformed parts within her right leg, Killa stuttered, Nitrous had no signs of developing transformation cogs and would likely be unable to transform, Cross couldn’t speak, Sway was in one optic; the twins, while each had a different father, had the same defect - underdeveloped sparks.

And then there was her tiny Scope...

Moonracer paced back and forth nervously while Perceptor and Wreck-Gar worked to save her infant’s life. The twins were born barely alive as well, and the torment Chromia went through - strong, proud Chromia - was enough to frighten her to the core.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked calmly, her voice shaken.

Wreck-Gar hummed; “Don’t worry, be happy! It lives!”

She raced over to his side and stared down at the squirming creature. His large, blue optics stared back, wide and alert. As soon as the Junkion departed, Moonracer immediately took his spot, on her knees at Perceptor’s side.

“What happened...?”

The sniper watched intently as the hatchling gripped his finger. “Perceptor?” she insisted. For a moment, the only sound had been that of the curious warbles emitting from the infant. “He mustn’t overexert himself; his body will not be able to handle overheating; his ventilation system has been damaged-”

“Is there a way to fix him?”

Perceptor gave a tired sigh and leaned forward, nuzzling the hatchling’s narrow chest, inhaling his scent; and the little one did the same. “Perceptor?” The microscope glanced to his mate with indifference before he straightened. “No.” He stared down at his son, his face unreadable. “They all have glitches due to being overly stressed throughout their gestation period. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the pods had suffered damage.”

“Are you suggesting that I am responsible for this?”

“If anything, you are all responsible for it... We’re responsible for it...”

Moonracer watched the scientist leave her side, clearly just as upset about the ordeal as she was. She then proceeded to observe her hatchling, smiling as he reached for her. “Papa seems to have emotions after all...”

Her gaze shifted to the sky, watching the light plumes float by like ghosts.

Oh, Elita... May your spirit continue to guide us.