Nexus. A Park. Chases

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"Easy, buddy. You're going to be alright. Just lay still while my helpers get here."

The voice was familiar, and Chase frowned slightly. "...Ratchet? What...? What're you doin' way... out... here? Thought... you... on Earth."

"Your Ratchet probably is." A hand touched him lightly, and he wondered as he seemed to hear thoughts that weren't his own. "And you're not where you were last. But don't worry, we can get you back to where you belong with no problem."

"My... Ratchet?" His frown deepened as he got his optics to work and peered blearily up at the mech who knelt beside him. "What...?"

"I'll explain after you're not in danger of going offline, okay?" Ratchet patted him on the shoulder very gently. "Do you have any idea where your other wing is? Wait, I see it."

"Pirates!" Chase remembered and tried to sit up, but then seized painfully and curled into himself, whimpering. "Doc...."

"Shhh." Ratchet got him laying flat again, faceplates creased with sympathy and concern. "Someone's coming that can help. Just hold on till she gets here."

That... didn't really make sense, with Ratchet himself here. But Chase was too busy trying to not purge his tank to be able to figure out the nuances of the nonsense.

And then small voices were speaking excitedly, and Ratchet looked over his shoulder with a frown. "What did you bring them for, Bumblebee? This is pretty bad."

"Panacea was busy, and they were with 'Aid," said the yellow Minibot, walking over and hunkering worriedly next to the wounded flyer. "We couldn't just leave them behind."

"Here, let me see him," came First Aid's gentle voice, and Ratchet and Bumblebee backed off. Hands carefully applied a painkiller override, and Chase was able to relax.

"Can I talk to him?" whispered one of those little voices.

"Alright," said First Aid. "But please don't hug him yet. I have to get these parts reattached and replaced."

"I wont." A little green mechling came into Chase's line of sight, his tiny face creased with concern as one small hand reached to gently touch the damaged flyer's cheek. "Hi. I'm Chase, and this is my big sister, Oriana 2, 'n my friends Nova 'n Starforge 'n Windstripe. What's your name?"

"Chase...." The Mustang bot blinked as he realized that First Aid was only ten foot tall at the most and that the sparklets were each around six. And then he noticed the trees he was laying under.

"You're Chase too? Wow! I wonder if you're an alternate?" The little green Chase grinned widely, his bright optics sparkling with baby wonder. Then he noticed what winged Chase was looking at. "Oh, do you like trees? This part of the Nexus is real pretty. It's even nicer than Memorial Park at home. Though I like the statue of Grandma Optimus."

"...buh?" Chase's optics crossed slightly. "You mean 'Grandpa'?"

"No," said the little buffy coloured femme called Oriana 2. "In our reality Optimus was a femme."

"Was?"

"Yeah. She died a long long time ago, like Grandpa."

"Your... reality." Chase's stressed processor tried to make sense of this, causing him to groan softly. Instantly tiny arms went around his neck, and a small body snuggled against his less damaged side. "Owww... thanks."

"Shhh." Oriana 2 moved up to a spot above his head and gave him a gentle kiss on the brow plate, tucking her pink Furby into the crook of her arm as she did so. "You're going to be alright. First Aid's nearly as good as Mom."

"Nearly?" Despite his confusion and the gravity of his injuries Chase felt a small smile come to his faceplates at the snuggle and the sparklets' attempts at comfort.

"Yeah," said Oriana 2 as a little red and black mech who closely resembled Ironhide snuck over to gently pet Chase's cheek. "He doesn't yell and throw things, so some of his patients get away before he's done fixing them."

"Owwwwww." Chase grimaced and groaned again. "Don't make me laugh."

"Sorry." She stroked his helm, humming a little ditty that Chase remembered from his own sparklethood, and the wounded mech felt his optics shutting down as comfort outweighed weirdness.

"Who's your grandpa?" he murmured, his processor drifting toward recharge.

"Ratchet. He's an Allspark messenger now." The little song continued.

He understood the lightness of the mech's touch now, he thought. Ghosts weren't known for being the most solid of individuals. Also why Ratchet hadn't just repaired him himself.

"My and this Chase's mom is Panacea. Grandma and Grandpa built her just a little while after the old war started," added Oriana 2. "And then she ran away and bonded with Hot Shot, who's Rodimus Prime now."

"Weird," said Chase, then sighed and leaned his head slightly toward the little comforters as he dropped into sleep mode.


* * *


He woke several hours later, safely stowed on a comfortably padded berth with a little electronic doohicker strapped to his wrist and a note telling him how to use it to get home and mentioning the cubes of energon on the table next to him. When he moved to see the note something fell from the crook of his arm, and when he picked the thing up he saw that it was a teddy bear in similar colours to his armor.

Grinning bemusedly, he looked at the toy, then back to the note, which bore a childish postscript apologizing that they had to go back home before he woke up, but hoping that the bear would make up for it a little.

Chase sighed and settled back, hugging the stuffie absently as he tested himself for functionality. Content that he was safe and that he could get back home when he was flight worthy again, he once more shuttered his optics and resumed recharging.

Comments

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase next came online feeling rested but sore, sprawled on his front on a berth. He pushed himself upwards with a grunt, flexing stiff servos and running habitual checks on his sensors and flight systems. Only when everything came back clear did he glance around and become aware of the strange room he was in. It took spotting the teddy bear resting on the berth beside his hand to jog his memory of what had happened.

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Out in the main room of the safe house Bumblebee turns her head toward the sounds coming from one of the ceiling-less rooms that encircle the converted warehouse. Scanning absently, she continues sweeping the floor, her broom making a steady swish swish that is counterpointed by the little clicks and squeaks that her son makes as he lays wrapped in his big quilt on one of the couches.

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Chase sat up fully, taking a long, satisfying stretch on the way up that paused comically as he noticed the ceiling. Or rather, the lack of one. Whoever was housing him must be accustomed to having flight-capable guests. Curiosity roused, Chase picked up the bear and accompanying note, slipping them into subspace. After a bit of fiddling he managed to remove the electronic thing from his arm and put it in the same pocket. He eyed the energon, analyzing the contents of the first cube before downing it and subspacing the rest. Then, rather than take the enticing offer of the open space overhead, he crossed the room and keyed open the door.

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Well... or turned the doorknob. The door tech's a little crude. And there is plenty of space up there to fly, but the rafters haven't been dusted in awhile, so he's probably making the wise choice with his terrestrial approach to leaving the room.

Bumblebee pauses and turns to face the opening door of the sleeping room, her browplates lifting as she tilts her head slightly and leans on her broom.

And baby Isaac decides he's going to laugh about then, and does so unreservedly.

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase paused, slightly taken aback when his hand encountered no keypad, finally spotting the doorknob. Now quite curious to find out more about where exactly he was, he stepped through and was immediately greeted by the sound of young laughter. Turning his head towards the source, his optics instead landed on a figure standing upright, leaning against some kind of stick. A... broom. Yes, that's what they were called.

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The funny face earns him another burst of hearty baby belly laughter, and then Isaac gets hold of his blanket with both little hands and looks up at his mother as she replies to Chase with a chuckle.

"Well, it's not mine," says the yellow femme. "I just visit sometimes. It's a place between realities. Kind of a big jumble of everything and anything."

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase nods. That's more or less the conclusion he's been coming to, but the idea is just so out there that it's helps to hear someone else actually say it. He glances around the room again. "Is it just here or is there, you know, an entire city or planet or something?" If it is the size of a planet - maybe even a galaxy! - oh, the idea of that just makes his salesmech programming squirm with glee. Even if it's smaller, though, a place full of beings from anywhere and everywhere... the possibilities are practically endless!

Suddenly remembering something, Chase pulls the brown bear out of his subspace, carefully holding it where Isaac won't see it, just in case. "This, uh, this was in that room with me. Is it supposed to stay here?" He's fairly positive it was a gift, but just to make sure...

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Ironically, his thoughts mirror those of a certain Swindle ghost....

"Oh, it's a whole world. There are people who live here full time. And there's at least one city." Bumblebee looks down at the toy and grins. "Did Ratchet or the kids say anything about it?"

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase has met a Swindle, and will happily work with him as such ventures are usually quite lucrative so long as one keeps their head and doesn't let him walk all over you, though Chase doesn't think much of the mech's idea of morals.

A city? Now he'll definitely have to explore before going home. He's not exactly eager to run into those pirates again, either, though the chances of them still being where they were are slim.

Chase doesn't quite manage to suppress the urge to fidget, embarrassed at the knowing smile. "There, uh, there was a note? Something about them having to leave. I just wasn't sure if I was supposed to give it back."

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This Swindle, oddly, plays nice, and has even been known to help people.

The yellow femme nods and turns Isaac to face her as she holds him close to her spark and purrs absently, which makes a tiny hand pat pat against her shell contentedly. "Well, he's the same colour as you are, so I'm pretty sure he's yours. Oriana 2 probably hated leaving you all alone."

Then she turns and walks over to the counter. "Do you want a cookie? They're choccy chip. The minerals in them might be good for your self repair."

Chase, you just got mommed by a Bumblebee. But the cookies do smell good....

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This Andalite looks peaceful enough as he puts his fore-hooves up on a Transformer sized bench and looks at a smaller green female Andalite who is standing up there. He's also one of the people that Bumblebee nodded to as she passed.

"Yeah," she says as she hops up onto a stool around the corner of the bar from the big black bot. "They've been at peace since Megatron and Ultra Magnus died. The new leader for both factions is Blitzwing."

The big black bot turns her head and looks back down at Chase, her alien and savagely beautiful face holding an expression of boredom. But then the little pink bot ((who doesn't actually have yellow on her, but grey)) from the porch comes flying in and starts buzzing around her head, and she rumbles laughter and takes a swat at her.

Bumblebee just watches them warily for a moment before turning her attention to Isaac, who has fallen asleep tasting the nummy cookie.

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase makes a mental note to ask about some of the people Bumblebee stopped to talk to if a good time comes up. He seats himself on a stool beside Bumblebee, carefully positioning himself so his wings won't knock against her, the bar, or stick too far out into the isle. By this point, hearing that Blitzwing - a soldier he knows only by reputation, but that's more than enough - is in charge of things in some not-so-distant reality doesn't startle him as much as it might have. "Blitzwing," he repeats, just to show he's heard, and shakes his head with a rueful little laugh.

Chase nods amenably to the Decepticon, but Bumblebee doesn't stop to greet this one so neither does he. The quick entrance of the pink bot doesn't startle him, though the laughter it causes does, as it sounds somewhat feminine. He'd thought the Decepticon to be a mech, but perhaps the different tech is throwing off his perceptions a bit more than he'd realized. Now slightly worried but not wanting to be so blatant as to resort to a full-out scan, he takes to watching the two as subtly as he can while they wait for the bartender to show.

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"Yeah." Bumblebee carefully tucks her tiny son- he's no larger than a human infant- into a compartment near her spark, then carefully closes the panel. "He's a nice guy. A bit off the wall sometimes, but his people and his family mean a lot to him."

Then she turns and looks at the floor, which is scattered with comfortable tables and booths, and being waited by a beautiful white femme of her own tech and two cyclopean drones. "Hey, Archiva, where's Nemesis?"

"Oh, she's feeding Pooka, but she should be back soon. Would you like something?" says the white femme, turning gentle blue optics toward them.

"I've got it, Archiva." A dark green femme who is a near spitting image of Blackout but for being shorter and somewhat stockier steps from the door to the back room, a huge black malamute held under one arm. "What's yours, Bumblebee?"

The yellow femme smiles and leans on the bar, her optics on the dog, which sports a white star on its forehead and four white paws. "How about a botpastry sampler? How's Pooka?"

"Teething. Thank Primus the brat's asleep now." Despite her harsh words Nemesis is gentle as she tucks Pooka into a box under the bar. This done, she goes to a cupboard a couple doors down from the improvised bed and brings out another box, the contents of which get arranged on a huge plate, and then plunked down in front of Bumblebee and Chase.

The plate holds a few of the choccy chip cookies. It also holds small (for a Transformer) cakes that look not unlike twinkies, Seeker shaped cookies with a nearly heavenly scent not unlike cinnamon, cookies that look like Swindle and which have a gingerish scent, cookies shaped like a smiling Blitzwing, brownies complete with gooey frosting, little pies with what looks like a whipped cream type filling but which smell wonderful to bot noses, and a single thin and nearly transparent wafer the scent of which can only be described as drool worthy.

Blackout, meanwhile, has caught the little Pink bot, and given her a glowing orange rock with yellow veins. The little one is now sitting and happily gnawing on this rock.

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase, meanwhile, is starting to feel a little out of place. He's never seen so many small bots in one place, and he's wondering if maybe they're far more common in other realities than they are in his own. Not quite sure how much interest in the small beings is polite to show, he opts instead to sidestep the matter completely and just not ask about them.

When the bartender drops the platter in front of them, he leans forward onto the counter, adopting his best 'I'm friendly, you'll like me!' posture. "Nemesis, was it? I'm Chase. Bumblebee's showing me the sights. Sounds like you two know each other?" He addresses this last to both of them. He almost picks up the single wafer but selects one of the Seeker cookies instead, holding onto it instead of eating it right away so he can chat without having his mouth full.

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"Kinda," says Nemesis, her deepish alto gruff. "As much as I know anybody that comes and sits at my bar and keeps an eye on the safehouse." She takes a white bartowel from her shoulder and gives the counter a polish, then looks over her shoulder. "Blackout, your Minicon is drooling on my bar."

Blackout ignores her.

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Bumblebee grins at his words about contacting Swindle, but then sobers. "Neither do I, really. I didn't even hear his name till I came to the Nexus."

And that taste? Delicate, complex, and totally delicious.

Blackout is watching him now, though not with her optics. She could be interested in what he's doing. Or she might just be plotting how best to take him by surprise and kiss him stupid so that her Minicon and her chibi Scorponok can laugh at him. Or she just might be considering letting the little Minicon steal one of his cookies. It can be hard to tell with Blackout.

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase is enjoying the new treat too much to respond to Bumblebee with anything more than a distracted hum, though he's relieved that she doesn't seem to be insulted by his lack of knowledge.

A slight itching sensation starts up on his back between his wings, distracting him a little from the delicious treat, feeling like there's more attention on him than there was a moment ago. He twitches his wings to dispel the sensation, flaps rippling as he resettles them. He's pretty sure the sudden twitchyness isn't because of the wafer. Well, maybe. He's got no idea what's in this thing.

"What's this about bringing people back from the dead?"

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Bumblebee looks down at the cookie she's taken for herself. "Well, he built us, and he takes care of us after our sparks go out. So it's not much trouble for him to light the sparks again."

"Do you wanna buy electronics or metals? Or a drone?" The little Minicon is suddenly standing by Chase's plate, her big blue optics looking at him earnestly.

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase tilts his head, not sure he fully understands. But if it's Primus who creates the sparks in the first place, he supposes Primus should be able to bring them back from the Well.

He shifts away from the counter when the Minicon appears beside him and starts talking with no warning, automatically turning his back to draw his wings away a little, simultaneously protecting them and giving the Minicon more room. He grins as the words register, feeling right at home with this particular subject. "I'd like to see what you've got, yeah." He taps his chin in exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Maybe a trade? I've got some stuff that's pretty exotic where I come from, there might be some things my stash you all haven't seen yet."

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"I doubt it," comes the rumbling but very female voice of Blackout. "I travel the Multiverse, and my minions have little use for frivolities. But you may surprise me and actually produce something interesting."

She looks at the Minicon, who giggles and beeps and flies away, then back to Chase, her crimson optics measuring and just slightly mocking.

Bumblebee frowns up at the larger femme. "Don't even think of it, Blackout."

"Shut up, bug. This is my conversation now." The big Decepticon's rebuke is dismissive, but not hostile.

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"You can work it just like you work the Cybertronian kinds." The young femme scans the can and its contents, analyzing its makeup. "Well, we already have cloaks. And we don't really need to hide after we've snuck up on the prey. Most of what we go after is smaller things from other realities, like AT ATs or Tyranids."

Then she pauses as the astrotech droid beeps and boops earnestly at Chase.

"Do you understand him?" she asks, looking at the Neutral.

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

"And I suppose those cloaks absolutely never fail, hm?" Chase flickers his optics in a friendly wink. He isn't sure what an AT AT or a Tyranid is, so he searches through the data Sheol sent him on the off-chance she might have included them in the information packet.

Chase pauses at the question. He has to run the beeps and whistles through his translation program a few times. The sentences are a little garbled, but he's deciphered worse. "Yeah, sure," he says, a little confused. Is that odd?

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"They never have yet." Sheol gives a shy smile. "And bots of our tech are actually built with enough ability to avoid most non-Cybertronian sensors, if we choose to."

Her smile falters then as she looks back at the droid, who is earnestly begging Chase to take him away before Scorponok eats him.

And then Bumblebee, thinking that Chase might not know what some of the critters and things Sheol mentioned are, speaks up quietly. "Are you wifi equipped?"

[chase-the-skies.livejournal.com]

Chase decides to give up on that avenue for now.

Chase has to concentrate to understand the droid, but as he continues to listen he starts to wonder what's wrong with the glitchy little thing and why they haven't repaired it. He beeps back a relatively gentle question, asking who Scorponok is, but not yet voicing the negative already in his mind towards the droids request. His subspace isn't really suitable for anything with any sort of awareness, dark and completely cut off as it is. He might be able to rearrange his cockpit to fit the thing, but he's got no reason to be interested in malfunctioning equipment, which, so far as he can currently tell, is all the droid is.

Wi-fi? Chase has to think for a moment before remembering what the human term means. "Oh! Yeah." Assuming her question indicates there is such an information network available here, he brings the necessary program online.

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She blinks lazily as she listens to him, not responding as the Minicon flies up to sit on her rotor mount over her head, though her thumb continues the gentle up and down motion on his back.

When he's done speaking she shakes her head and counters. "eighth and a quarter of the quarter of Seeker salt."

And then she reaches over with her free hand and slaps Deherree in the head for eating the trade goods. The big youngling growls at her, but accepts the glowing orange and yellow rock that Sheol gives her instead.

That rock smells darn good....