Transformers Prime: A Sparkling Issue

Chapter 3 - Prime Sitter

That is until a tiny moan from below quickly caught the Prime's attention. The orange and white sparkling put down his bottle, only a little of the energon remaining in the bottom, his countenance one of discomfort. His helm was lowered slightly, little frame slumped. Optimus put a servo down to him, rubbing a finger against Ratchet's back struts.

"What is the matter, little one?" he asked softly. "Do you not feel well?"

Another little whirr and Ratchet leaned against the digit limply, seeking comfort. Optimus gently brought him to his chest where the little mech curled up against him. Bumblebee was still snuggled in his other arm, sucking down the last drops. Ratchet still looked as if he was in some kind of distress and Optimus wasn't sure what to do. He hoped it was simply a case of having ate too fast, but he couldn't help the concern rising within as nothing changed after a few minutes. Then he noticed Bulkhead and Arcee acting the same, slumped with pained expressions in their miserable optics.

What have I done wrong? he thought, going over everything he had done up to that point. Optimus didn't know whether to feel guilty or alarmed or both. Was this his fault or not? It didn't seem right that this would be normal. Then again he was no expert, but still ... his processors were rambling.

The situation was getting no better. Then to his shock – and horror – Ratchet retched, then gave a type of baby belch and all his dinner came gushing out. It splattered all down the sparkling's front and all over his arms and legs – not to mention all over Optimus.

The Prime was in shock. The smell of partially digest energon filled his olfactory receptors with a repugnant stench. He could feel the mucky liquid, warmed from the sparkling's tanks, rolling down his chassis and dripping through his fingers. Eons of never once hesitating in battle after battle, never once letting the unexpected slow his actions; and yet now, at something so inconsiderable, the mighty Autobot leader froze. It was like all processors were in lock-up, unable to compute what had just happened. This he had not anticipated.

Ratchet looked up and blinked. Blue dribbled down his chin and dripped from little servos. He gave a questioning garble that seemed to indicate he felt better. But if he thought that was bad, seconds later Optimus dolefully watched as both Arcee and Bulkhead did the same, but at least their dinners ended up on the floor and not him. Shock twisted to dismay as he looked at the clean-up job that now awaited him.

Then he remembered one he had forgotten in a wave of dread. "Bumblebee!" Maybe if he put him down now...

But as the name left his vocalizer, Bumblebee buzzed a whine as he too retched up his dinner. Optimus grimaced as the foul smelling stuff splattered all down the other side his frame. It only got worse when the sparkling spit up yet again, this time covering his arm. Still convincing himself that this had really happened, Optimus gave a deep vent as he looked at the sparkling. Bumblebee still held his bottle, yellow frame now covered in mucky blue, looking a bit confused yet completely unaware of the trouble he and the others had just caused. He wasn't sure why, but he felt better now and that's all he knew. They all seemed to be acting better.

Suddenly it came back. "That's what it was," Optimus muttered. Now he remembered what he couldn't before about what was different with the energon.

Ages ago, when he still worked as a clerk on Cybertron, he'd been at a friend's house who had a sparkling at the time and had seen her mix up a special formula consisting of half oil and half energon. His friend had explained to the curious clerk that pure energon was too harsh on a newborn sparkling's digestive chamber. The mixture of oil reduced friction by creating a protective film on the still developing parts, allowing it to process easier. Later as the sparkling grew, less oil would be needed as internal mechanisms strengthened and straight energon could be ingested.