randomplaces | CW 'verse. Nellis Airforce base. Beginnings

Samuel Walker stepped through the hanger doors and stopped to admire his ship, struck as always by her simple beauty. Then he chuckled as Ghost sensed his presence and beeped at him softly. She wasn't intelligent enough to count as a person, but after years of Ratchet's tinkering she was plenty smart enough to recognize her crew and be glad to see them.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said softly, moving to where he could run a hand over her smooth surface. "How're you doing?"

She chirped, but didn't attempt to reply further.

Sam chuckled again, then sighed and thought back to when he'd first seen the ship who would one day become a major part of his world.

-Over thirty years,- he thought, lowering himself into the armchair that he'd brought to the hanger soon after they'd moved to the base. -She saw all our travels and troubles... and outlived the Ark.-

Over thirty years coming home, only to find without any real surprise from the human members of the Ark/Ghost crew that there wasn't really any home for them anymore. Ghost, true to her name, had become a ghost ship, and her human residents no more existed than did the Cybertronian members of the crew.

Sam's family had moved on. His wife had married another man and was now a grandmother. But Sam felt no sorrow at the thought. He'd moved on himself, and the thought of such a life seemed alien to him. He was an explorer, a soldier, a leader of men and machines.

And a father.

His mouth curved as he thought of Zoe. The first Cybertronian born on Earth, though she'd been sparked 35 years before. A beautiful and vivacious young girl who'd managed to work her way into the hearts of most of those who knew about her. Sure, the base personnel still joked about the baby of the family being the biggest, but woe betide the idiot who spoke ill against her. Someone had once asked how he'd wound up being her father, and Jazz had explained it by saying, "He volunteered, man!"

And Bumblebee...

Sam nodded as he acknowledged that if circumstances had been different the two of them would probably be married by now. But he was content with the way things were. The Cybertronian femme was his best friend, close enough that the two of them had been reading each other's minds for nearly two decades.

Thinking about 'Bee reminded him of the other femmes who'd finally responded to the call that Jazz had sent out soon after the war. Chromia was somewhere up north with Ironhide now; the two of them bonded and staying with the army man who'd led the battle against the Decepticons. And Elita was right here, Jazz's wife, and mother to their three children.

Sam nearly laughed out loud as he thought of Romulus and Beat. Identical except for the dents on Rom's helm, the two couldn't be more different in personality. Beat was as quiet and introspective as his brother was brash and bull-headed, and the only thing that ever snapped him out of his peaceful outlook was when Romulus got the jump on him and shoved him over or pranked him while he was wool gathering. Then Airforce property would be damaged, and the base would be treated to the sight of the Autobot Commander giving his two tall sons several pieces of his mind.

"Still think Rom and Zoe are going to wind up together some day," he opined aloud, chuckling as he nearly heard Jazz telling him he was nuts. "She already keeps him in line."

And then some. The dents and paint rubs on the young Autobot's helm were all from her hands. She had no compunctions whatsoever in smacking him upside the head, or even pushing him over and sitting on him. The boys might be smarter and at a higher level of maturity than Zoe, but there could be no doubt as to who was the leader of the group of young robots.

Then Sam sobered as he recalled how Jazz had gone from hiding in mortification at the ribbing he'd received from the guys for fathering triplets, to unwontedly quiet and subdued when it had become clear that one of those triplets might not be around for very long.

The third new spark had been weak when Ratchet had gently transferred her to her new body, and she'd never gained even enough strength to change the appearance of that body. The whole base had gotten together a naming pool when they had heard Elita was expecting, and had voted unanimously that the sparkling would be female and that she should be named Helweh, an Arabic word for pretty.

Helweh she was, a quiet presence who never spoke and spent her waking moments silently soaking up knowledge. Those waking moments were interspersed with long periods of resting or of laying on her bunk offline. And when she was awake it was clear that she was in pain at times. Ratchet was trying to find the reason and a cure, but thus far hadn't found either.

Sam shook his head and sent up a silent prayer for his friends, then looked around as the hanger door creaked open again. "Time to go?"

Bumblebee nodded, then shifted to her alternate mode, and Sam pried himself out of the chair, grumbling about stiff joints even as he grinned at the prospect of a long drive in a sweet car. "Alright, girl, let's go."