Meta- 5: Seeing Sparks

A/N: I found out after coming up with names for the green and orange/purple femmes in Elita's G1 team, that they'd already been given monikers by Hasbro. But I like mine better. So I'm sticking with them. Sorry if it ruffles any feathers.

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Seeing Sparks

Personal Diary: 02-435-Tarn
--RainbowSparkle--

I think I saw a brother today. At least, he must have been. No one but my progenitors could have come up with such a showy head-crest. But I was a bit surprised. I hadn't heard that Thundercracker and Sunstreaker were interested in making mechs.

I saw him as I was out walking in the market district with Sunspot, (my assigned mentor) and Arclight, who went through the Great War with her. The three of us often meet after our shifts to ramble through the city. There's always something new to discover, what with everything being rebuilt (or rediscovered) after the Cataclysm. I asked the girls if they knew his name and origin; but when I tried to point him out, he'd disappeared.

I'm curious, because Arclight and Sunspot also did not know of any newling mechs of that description. I'll have to find out more. Perhaps a visit to the Archives is in order. I haven't been there yet, but I suppose there's no time like the present.

(Sometimes it's hard being one of the newlings. I mean, all the older bots act like they know everything there is to know. They navigate the planet in a half-sleep, having done it so many times before. But I did have the last laugh once, when I heard that one of the mechs almost drove off of a cliff, because the city he was traveling through had been split by the Cataclysm.)

--End File Record--
Save/Delete ?

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Personal Diary: 04-435-Iacon
--RainbowSparkle--

I met Optimus Prime today. He wasn't like I had expected.

I took a land-shuttle to Iacon, but then I had to locate the fuel and recharge post, because I'd forgotten to get all charged up before I left. Stupid. I've got to learn to time my actions better. I suppose this is yet another of those things they tell me will come naturally someday...

Anyway, after a few joors' recharge and a couple cubes of energon, I set off for the Hall of Records. Of course, I had to consult a map, which made me feel like an idiot. But Iacon was kind of intimidating after Tarn, where I feel relatively sure of where things are.

The city is old. You can tell by the way everyone walks – carefully, as if the place is holy ground, or something. The history of it kind of presses down on you. I felt so out of place. None of it had anything to do with me. But all the other bots I passed seemed to have the place's energy flowing through their very sparks. At least, the Autobots did. If I remember right, Iacon was their capitol, and their last refuge in the end. Perhaps I should have felt something – after all, I've heard that a lot of bots died trying to defend the place. But I just couldn't. Does that make me defective?

I finally found the Hall of Records. I'm not sure what I expected, but I don't think it was this. It was a low-slung, dumpy little place on the outside. But inside, and underground, it stretched for what seemed mega-miles. I didn't have a clue where to begin. So I approached a tall, red and blue mech who looked like he might work there, and asked for help.
(He was shelving datafiles! It wasn't my fault I was fooled!)

"Excuse me," I asked, "But I'm trying to find information on a relative?"

He turned around, and then of course I felt like a complete fool. I'd never seen him before, but even I know what Optimus Prime looks like. You can't hang out with Autobots, and avoid it. They think he's the greatest thing since refined steel. Instinctively, the way I always do when I feel cornered, I checked his spark. Then I relaxed a little bit. But not completely. I had just asked the Prime to help me find an unimportant record, after all.

"I'm sorry," I floundered. "I didn't realize--"

He smiled, and put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry," he said gently, and I was startled at the way his voice sounded up close. It kind of rumbles up from the floor throughout your systems. But in a good way. "I know this place better than most," he offered. "What are you looking for?"

"Well--" The whole thing seemed to silly now. "A few orns ago, I saw this mech, and I thought he might be my brother..."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely interested, though at the time I had no idea why. "Why did you make such an assumption?"

"Well--" Now I was really wishing I had never come. "He had this--" I indicated with my hands "Flared-out decoration on his head, and he was head-and-shoulders taller than the other mechs around him, and I thought--" The Prime was gaping at me now, which only made me feel more foolish. "So far, every bot I've met with crazy tooling like that was designed by my creators..." I let my voice fade out to nothing. I'm taller than some of the femmes, but beside Optimus Prime I felt tiny and insignificant.

"Was this in Tarn?" he asked. "Three orns ago?"

"Yes," I replied miserably. "How did you know?"

He seemed to sense my discomfort, and tried to put me at my ease, but there was something tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he was trying not to laugh, and I could only assume it was at me. "I think I know the mech you mean," he said, stifling a grin. "I'll show you where to access his files. Come on, little one."

What could I do? I trailed along after him, feeling very little indeed.

He stopped beside an access podium, and plugged in with a thin cord from his wrist. "Is this the mech you wanted to find out about?" he asked, after tapping a few keys.

I looked. And if I could, I would have disappeared right then and there. "Oh," I said in a very small voice. "I didn't know."

Megatron, (the file beneath his picture read)
High Protector of New Cybertron
Bond-Brother to Optimus Prime
(And then there were pages and pages of historical information on the mech I'd thought to be a newling brother, ending with,)
Forged by the Thirteen in the First Great Creation

I looked up into Optimus Prime's face. His blue optics twinkled with amusement. I got mad. "Well," I said, "I am properly humiliated. Thank you very much."

"Wait," he said, looking crestfallen. "I did not mean to embarrass you. Truly, I did not. It's just-- I've never met anyone before who genuinely did not know what Megatron looks like. It's very... refreshing.

"But you should know better!" I protested. "Especially with that spark. You love taking care of beings – any and all – who are smaller or weaker than you. It's part of who you are. You should not have made an exception just for you own--"

He held up a hand. And there's something about Optimus Prime, some element of innate command, that stops you in your tracks if he wants it to. I fell silent with a click of my overcharged vocoder.

"What do you mean, 'with a spark like that'?" he asked, all serious now.

I shrank a little, but I was still mad. After all, I'd been right.  "Your spark," I repeated glumly. "It's all about service to others and kindness and blue, blue, blue, blue, blue! All blue sparks look outward, for good or ill. At least, in my experience." I put my hands on my hips and stared him down, belligerent to the end.

"But where did you find that out?" he asked, perplexed (and if I am any judge, even a little scared). "You still don't know how to access files in the Archives!" He gave me a shrewd look. "Or was that all an act?"

"Thanks for reminding me that I'm still just a newling without a clue. Thank you very much," I said acidly. "No, this is not an act, although I wish it was. I wish I didn't have to stumble around and be laughed at by all the older bots, who seem to find it funny that I don't know anything. I wish I didn't have to tag along with minders, and ask questions about everyday objects while they smile behind their hands. I wish that I was more than someone's little science project. But no. There'll always be a difference between newlings and the more 'historic' bots. I put as much venom into that adjective as I dared.

Optimus Prime took all this in without flinching, almost without really listening. He put both hands on my shoulders, and leaned down. "But where did you find out about my spark?"

I could see that it was important to him, but I had no idea why. "It's right there to see! Isn't it obvious to everyone?" I asked, feeling confused by his demeanor.

"No," he said. "No." And then he turned away. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and seemed to consciously still himself. "So, you can see my spark."

"Yes."

"Just my looking at me."

"Yes! Why is this such a big deal?"

He sighed. "You possess a unique talent, er...?" He he shot a questioning glance at me. "What is your name, by the way?"

I squared my shoulders. "RainbowSparkle," I told him. I waited for the usual laughter.  

But I guess he was too distracted to laugh. "I have never met anyone who can... see sparks," he said, still as if he was only feeling his way forward.

Then something shifted, and he turned back to me, decided. "Would you like to meet this so-called brother of yours?" he asked.

And to think I'd almost gotten over my angry humiliation. "What? So Megatron can laugh at me as well?"

"No, little one," he said. "So that you can impress us. In fact, there might be a place in the command structure for a femme with your ability. We could use you," he repeated, when I cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.

"All right," I said, after a pause. "But tell me this first. What's with the 'little one'?"

He put an arm around my shoulders. "I guess I'm just soft on femmes," he said, smiling. "You'll find that most of us old mechs are. There were so few of you for so... so long." He got that sad look, the one that always precedes long, depressing stories of the Great War. So I thanked him as hastily as I dared, and turned to go.

"Tomorrow, then?" His words followed me before I could escape. "Can you be at the Command Complex in Pax Cybertronia by then?

My shoulders slumped. I sighed. "I could be, if I knew where the slag it was," I mumbled. Even newlings pick up swear words.

He came back up behind me. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me now?" he asked, using the formal language of Old Cybertron. He held out an arm.

I thought it over for a moment. I glanced back into his blue spark. I shrugged. "Sure," I said.