#animatros

I called her Novastar, both because I like it and because I can't call Firestar anything other than Firestar. However, I've gotten the idea of an alternate name for her.

Helkat is inspired by the Helcat Zoid from Hasbro's more forgotten franchise.

In contrast to Eukaris’s democratic nature, Animatros employs a kind of Meritocratic Monarchy - namely, there is a designated heir (or at least there should be one) but in order to gain the throne said heir (or any potential challenger) must beat the current ruler in single combat. This not only ensures that the ruler has the strength to rule but the determination to see their goals through. For Animatros, the position of rulership is a very harsh responsibility and any misstep can be the downfall of all you sought to achieve.

OUR PLANETS ARE IN DANGER

TO SAVE THEM AND THE GALAXY WE MUST FIND THESE RANDOM SHINY COLLECTABLE PLASTIC DISKS

BEFORE THE DECEPTICONS CAN USE THEM FOR EVIL

Just for fun - and until I can churn out more fics.

Oooooo, that's a good question @kzele.

One of the major things Optimus would likely consider would be all the lack of help for his own ascension to the Primacy when training Smokescreen. Between Megatron's fall from grace, the War breaking out, and the utter barrier between him and Alpha Trion after that (correct me if I'm wrong, but AT was absent from Optimus' side post Matrix), Optimus was learning how to be a Prime on the fly. So when he needed guidance, he was probably getting shown the ropes by the Thirteen in his head - which, given all their personalities and behavior, was probably like going to receive help from your eccentric uncles and aunt.

Not a fun time for him.

So in a way, Optimus would be keeping Smokescreen close by so that if he had a question or theory, Optimus could quickly step in with advice or experience he'd learned the hard way. Optimus would probably feel a bit odd about the whole thing: it's one thing to raise Bumblebee to adulthood, but teaching your successor so he doesn't make the same mistakes you did or be adrift like you were is new. Makes him wonder how Alpha Trion pulled it off so easily on at least two occasions (himself and Smokescreen, of course.)

Optimus is also concerned at times that he might be overstepping, in part because he's really so protective that he wonders at times if he's being too strict or too distant. He's not Smokescreen's father, or related to him in any way; Chromia, though he knows her only through Prowl, clearly did the lion's share of raising him, and he doesn't want Smokescreen to think he's trying to replace her or the 'Bots who gave him shelter while she was busy earning a living for them.

For his part, Smokescreen is mostly unbothered by this. Getting a chance to be closer to Optimus (and cling to him when he overthinks his future as a Prime) is the second most important thing to him after reuniting with his older sister. Sometimes though, he does feel Optimus stresses some of the protocol too much. He usually gets over it by remembering what Alpha Trion told him, but sometimes he needs to tell Optimus, "I appreciate the reiteration, but I can remember things pretty well, Optimus."

It's never really heated between them. More mutual awkwardness, with lots of moments where they each feel like their falling short in the mentor-student relationship.

The real headache would come when Optimus realizes that, should they manage to reunite with surviving allies and defeat the Decepticons, Smokescreen's going to need more diplomatic training than he could hope to impart to him. Optimus' personal diplomatic skills are based off his ability to reach others through his genuinely meant hopes and dreams expressed through words, thereby granting him allies rather easily. While Smokescreen could probably do the same, it would not come quite as easily, in part due to the team's failure to make him feel welcome and thus making him doubt himself. Therefore, as much as it pains him to admit it, Optimus will have to seek out others for such learning. Accelerator would be the most trustworthy diplomat for a start, but there's still the fact that they will soon be dealing with at least four lost colony worlds with different cultures in the future, never mind throwing humanity in alongside them....

As for how Optimus views Smokescreen now, it's only marginally different. From the beginning, Optimus saw great potential: he adapted quickly, listened to orders well, always pulled his weight, and had a great deal to offer as both a combatant and as a friend. Now though, with the realization that he is a candidate for the Primacy, Optimus sees how those qualities actually aid him for the Primehood. Smokescreen's adaptive nature means he'll take change in stride, his attentiveness will allow him to listen to others, his eagerness to do what is right will grant him allies, and his combat abilities and friendly disposition will aid him in the future - perhaps even turn enemies into friends.

Smokescreen looked out the side port window of the Skyclaw as they entered the Jungle Planet's atmosphere. Trees that made Earth's redwoods look like sprouts jutted upward to greet the ship, and a quick glance to their northern destination showed the steadily looming mountains that was a staple of this area's native fame.

"Hey kid, wanna join us up here for a better view?" Wheeljack's voice spoke up, breaking Smokescreen out of his reverie.

Reluctantly prying himself away from the window, Smokescreen joined the Wrecker up front as Arcee asked, "So what's this place called again?"

"Rectangular Valley. It's got one of the most frequented temples on Animatros, and Ironhide's turned the place into a safe haven for Autobot refugees with Backstop's help."

Smokescreen barely registered his own voice as the one reciting the report before Bumblebee snickered. "Wow, you really did memorize the news," he twittered teasingly.

"Ya can't blame him, Goldbug. Pit, if it were my sister, or any other Wrecker down there I hadn't seen in eons, I'd be even more antsy than Smokescreen," Wheeljack replied with a grin.

Smokescreen smiled sheepishly. Despite the honest well-meaning behind Wheeljack's words, he still hadn't quite gotten used to having such a well-known 'Bot like him passive-aggressively standing up for him in small or large ways.

It made his recently noticed similarity to Chromia that much more noticeable and poignant.

Bee's doorwings drooped downward. "Right. Sorry, Smokescreen," he hummed sincerely.

Smokescreen waved it off, turning on a grin. "Relax, Bee. It's no big -"

Movement down below caught his attention, and Smokescreen turned to look.

On the ground, standing outside an opening in the rock wall, was a large, well-built and vibrant red Autobot. Ironhide was easily recognized, even without taking into account the scars that covered his frame.

Behind him was a native Animatrosian, going by his clear animal-like frame. Judging by the rhino-like head making up his left hand, that must be Backstop.

Surrounding them on all sides were other beast-formers in their animal modes. The bat and eagle were readily singled out as Predacons due to their metallic forms, while the wolf and (strangely large) cheetah were identified as Maximals thanks to their organic mimicking animal modes.

Smokescreen took them in peripherally, though. His optics were almost immediately glued to the tall, broad-shouldered femme with ocean blue armor. Other parts of her frame sported lighter shades of blue, highlights of red or white, and practically glowing sapphire optics that were similarly zeroed in on the Skyclaw.

It was Chromia. His older sister.

Thank Primus, his prayers had been answered.

"Looks like we got a welcoming committee," Wheeljack noted.

As the ship lowered, Smokescreen couldn't help himself. "I'll meet you down there," he said, turning on his heel and bolting for the exit hatch.

"Smokescreen -!" Arcee started, only for Wheeljack to laugh behind him distantly, "Don't worry, kid's got the Phase Shifter."

Smokescreen stopped right over the hatch, then used his Iacon relic to drop through the ship. Landing on the forest floor, he immediately transformed into his v-mode and took off for the temple entrance way, shooting out under the side of the Skyclaw.

The ground was coarse and hot, but Smokescreen paid it no mind. He just kept replaying their last video call before the Hall of Records was attacked in his helm as the distance between him and his sister finally - finally - narrowed.

"Keep in touch, sis." Smokescreen had said as his shift changed.

"Sure thing. Just make sure Alpha Trion doesn't bore you to death with all those dusted tomes he lives and breathes," Chromia had teased back.

His laughter and her fond smile replayed in his mind as he crested the hill, transforming immediately. Stopping, he saw Chromia staring at him.

She blinked once, he blinked twice, both of them taking in the other's appearance.

They broke into a run simultaneously.

In three seconds, Smokescreen and Chromia had collided into each other's arms, hugging fiercely. Smokescreen's doorwings shot up with relief, while Chromia's Onyx-like grip squeezed him once before settling into less of a death hold. Smokescreen inhaled deeply, her familiar scent of starship grease and Mithrilian rust minutely detectable under a new smell of earthiness.

Closing his optics, he let his accent slip out as he muttered, "I missed you very much, sister."

"Missed you too, little brother," Chromia whispered back.

They pulled apart, and Smokescreen allowed himself a better look at the handful of scars that covered her frame. "Guess Ironhide's been keeping you busy on the field," Smokescreen joked, clearing his voice box as his accent briefly refused to go away.

Chromia gave a dismissive wave and helpfully ignored his slip. "Eh, even Majors gotta get scuffed up every now and then," she replied.

"No way, you got that promotion after all?" He asked, grinning widely.

"Yup. Worked so hard for it I didn't even realize I'd gotten the rank 'til Ironhide told me," Chromia answered with a small degree of pride. Gently punching his shoulder, she inquired, "How about you? I'm willing to bet you're either a Lieutenant or Prime's bodyguard by now."

Smokescreen fidgeted slightly. "That's ah, a bit complicated. I am Team Prime's resident infiltration specialist now, and Optimus is keeping me close at servo."

Chromia smiled, but he saw the flash in her optics at his hesitation. She could always read him like an open history record, and he felt certain she interpreted "complicated" as "I got put on janitorial duty."

"That's my brother, always jumping ahead of his peers," Chromia praised genuinely. However, he knew the unspoken part of that translated to, I am getting a rundown of everything that happened when you met Prime.

"So, I know that's the General himself, and our Animatrosian liason Backstop, but who's everybody else?" Smokescreen asked, hoping to change the subject as much as he was curious about the beast-formers slowly approaching them.

Chromia turned and pointed as she spoke. "The bat here is Sonar. She's this beast team's spy. The eagle is Aerobolt, their sniper and a recon. The cheetah is Freerunner, the scout, and that's Wolfang, tracker and muscle."

Each beast-former bowed as named, which was cool considering they did it all in their animal modes. Smokescreen gave a half bow back, then glanced up at Ironhide and Backstop. The rhino had stepped beside him to talk, the General speaking to him while keeping his optics forward.

Tilting his head, Smokescreen questioned, "So, does Backstop lead them alongside the haven?"

"Backstop fights only when necessary these days. I'm this squad's leader."

Smokescreen turned to see who'd spoken. Standing a short distance from him was a large, rather robust, black panther Predacon. Her armor was jet black with hints of blue or purple on her. Patches of glowing gold dotted her shoulder and back areas, and were the same shade as her optics.

He blinked. Cybertronians had little highlights like her gold, such as Chromia's specks of red, and none of the other Predacons had what this young femme did...

He noticed his approaching teammates before the panther stepped forward and bowed. "I am Wilddagger, the oldest of Backstop's newest students. I had taken us to battle on Animatros before the recent arrival of your friends. I apologize for my absence...as well as my lack of trust, for I wished to inspect your ship in case of deception."

It was odd. Wilddagger's speech pattern reminded him of all those medieval genres that Miko had shown him, and yet not only was she probably his age, but Smokescreen had the feeling she wasn't as confident as her first two claims boasted.

"Don't worry about it. If I had people under me to worry about, I'd've done the same," he assured honestly, bowing halfway again.

Wilddagger straightened, but didn't transform. Most likely a cultural thing, and he wasn't going to ask her to change anytime soon.

Besides, she had a really cool alt-mode.

As she walked forward, and as the others crested the hill, Chromia asked in a bored tone, "So, who's who on your team again?"

Ohhhhhhh scrap, she wasn't letting that go. Best to play as honest and vague as possible between his teammates.

Smiling, he stepped back to join his sister and explained, "Well, Ultra Magnus doesn't really need an introduction. Despite what Wheeljack says, he's pretty chill when not on duty - if you like organizing the barracks and weapons room in your off time."

She nodded before lightly rolling her eyes with a playful scoff. Good, he was off her murder list.

"That's Wheeljack. Now he's really fun to be around, and cool. He goes out on drives with me after patrol, and even trains with me."

Chromia smiled. It would have been a full smile, and Smokescreen would have been relived if her optics hadn't landed squarely on the remaining trio.

Two saved, three marked.

Stepping forward, she lazily pointed to each and began, "So, big green. You must be Bulkhead, who I've heard a lot about. Galactic rumor spreads well about Wreckers who transfer to a new position. Little guy must be...Bumblebee? One of you is gonna have to explain the addition to his name. And the Two-Wheeler...."

She snapped her digits a few times, then shrugged and admitted, "There were a few Two-Wheelers running around, so I'm not sure I can get your name right off the top of my helm."

For their sakes, Smokescreen dearly hoped they could pick up on Chromia's intent. Given though that both Roller and Aileron had taken centuries to catch onto her passive interrogation, he had a sinking feeling they wouldn't until it was too late.

His concerns were validated the second Bulkhead laughed. "This is Arcee," he beamed with pride. "Finest member of our team after Prime and Wheeljack, and a heck of a fighter."

"Oh yeah, that Two-Wheeler," Chromia drawled, optics scanning the three. "Had a pretty good record on Cybertron. I'm looking forward to hearing my brother's stories of you guys."

Arcee twitched slightly, optics darting between them. Bulkhead and Bumblebee, for their part, shared a look of confused concern.

Deciding an intervention might do some good, Smokescreen turned to Chromia and questioned, "Hey uh, I know you're a Major now, but do you think General Ironhide would mind if you and I catch up inside? I think between Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus, he can get caught up on the situation on Earth, and maybe either him, Jazz, or Backstop could show the rest of my team around."

Three helms swiveled at the reveal of her rank, which was NOT Smokescreen's intention - he really was hoping being a Major wouldn't get in the way of their time together - but if it did help keep the peace a bit, well, who was he to naysay that bonus?

Chromia turned to him, then silently sighed and let some tension go from her shoulders. "Ironhide kinda implied I could show you around the temple grounds, get you familiar with our little home, so we can kill two avians with one stone there."

Facing the Animatrosians, Chromia called, "Hey Wilddagger, mind giving these three a tour of the outside while our superiors deal with the briefing?"

Wilddagger, who had been sitting amongst the others as they whispered in their native language, stood immediately. Nodding, she answered, "It will be done, Major."

Walking along, giving a growl for her squad to follow, Wilddagger nodded ahead to the others and stated, "This way. I will show you the secret exit at the far end first."

Chromia and Smokescreen watched them a moment before his sister turned on her heel. "Come on, I'll show you the storage areas and barracks while you tell me how things went when you joined Team Prime," she encouraged.

Smokescreen grinned as he trotted after her. He was so happy to be with his sister again, he couldn't help but let go of his concerns for his teammates.

----

As Chromia showed him the impressive interior of the RV's temple, Smokescreen recounted the events to her. That he'd awoken on a Decepticon prison ship, escaped to Earth after getting knocked into stasis, then met Team Prime. They both chuckled at the stray shot into the leaked energon, but the mirth slowly died as he explained the following events. The entire debacle on the same day they found the Star Saber, the Omega Key search and unintentional admittances about his following experiences with the others, and when he got caught by the Decepticons.

"But that was a fun escape," he attempted as they passed the religious preparation chambers. Lightly pumping a fist in the air for a second, he continued, "I mean, falling from the upper atmosphere could have been handled better, but I still managed to outsmart Megatron. Should've heard his yell when I disappeared underground."

Smokescreen laughed, but it was rimmed with nervousness. Chromia stared ahead of them for a moment, hummed in response, then stopped to look at him.

"So, nobody briefed you on anything upon arrival, the Wrecker had a temper tantrum with you, Prime's Lieutenant used you as a personal scapegoat - speaking of, I want estimates on the price of her alt-mode, same for the others - and Prime himself didn't correct this? Did Ratchet even look you over?"

Smokescreen shifted and thought fast. "Optimus had just come back from time as an amnesiac prisoner, then had to deal with all the Iacon relics. He didn't have as much time as normal, and Ratchet looked me over," he answered truthfully, especially since the doctor had looked him over - after the ordeal about his history as a Mithrilian came to light, but Miko had said white lies could be okay. "And Arcee and Bulkhead were going through a lot. My excitement rubbed them the wrong way, and Bee was just trying to do his job."

Chromia dragged one servo down her faceplate, then clasped her servos together and used them to point at him as her optics remained staring off to the side. The last time he'd gotten this treatment, Chromia had been mad as Pit that he'd hidden a sickness as a small youngling.

"Smokescreen," she began, voice quivering with restrained emotion. He cringed as she continued, "Those are excuses for their poor performance and abuse of you. I don't care what their histories or struggles of the time were, that is an abuse of power and a failure to ensure that you, their new teammate who gets off his aft every forsaken cycle, learned all you needed to know of the planet you were serving on. And the fact that you accomplished so much - you saved Prime at least twice, got three Omega Keys that can lead us to the map of the Omega Lock and Cyber Planet Keys, prevented Megatron from acquiring the literal Star Saber - and were not recognized for a promotion beyond 'infiltration specialist' is appalling. I've read Arcee's records, and given what I saw there in addition to what I can infer from her treatment of you, should have been grounds for either a dismissal or stripping of rank. Pit, you should be Prime's Lieutenant or even Captain, while she's scrubbing the fuel tanks because at least that way it's certain she's not being a security or safety risk. Ironhide is hearing of this, because Prime is good, but sometimes too soft. That maverick needs his steel fist to straighten her out, no matter what you say, and this needs to be addressed."

Smokescreen shifted, feeling ill. He really didn't want to be the cause of such a mess like this, or for getting Arcee and the others in so much trouble.

But her words about rank....

He swallowed, then tapped a pede against the ground. "Well, technically...I'm a bit - higher, than an infiltration specialist."

Chromia's optics snapped to him. "What do you mean?" She asked, voice stiff but carrying a note of confusion.

Smokescreen glanced around. Although they'd passed the crowded areas, he still leaned forward and whispered, "Is there a more private place we could talk?"

Her servos slowly lowered as she studied him, optics searching for anything she could read from him. Nodding to the side, she answered quietly, "The inner sanctum is a short distance on our right. No one will go there to pray yet."

He nodded and followed his sister. When they entered through the doorway, he scanned the room. It was at least one hundred yards wide, and probably twice as long given the six arches supporting the high cavern ceiling. Carved into the arches were depictions of the Thirteen and their achievements, and as Chromia silently led him toward the front row a short distance from the altar, he saw another Prime after the Time of the Thirteen hewn into the rock. This figure was vaguely familiar to him: a wolf beast-former, seemingly female, and who towered over all but a giant winged dragon who looked remarkably similar to Predaking. As Smokescreen followed his sister, he eyed the depictions briefly. They seemed to tell the tales of this particular Prime, who battled hordes of beast-formers, led an army of both vehicle and beast-former Cybertronians against them, and then a dawning sun over Cybertron's growing society, with the wolf Prime standing in front of the sun.

The last image he saw was her in her wolf form, looking weaker, howling as large ships (Were they Titans? he wondered) left Cybertron before Chromia beckoned him to sit beside her.

Taking the space next to her, he glanced up briefly at the looming, rearing form of Onyx Prime behind the altar. With the way his wings stretched out, he looked almost like those angel statues Raf had shown him from various cathedrals around Earth. But the hidden optics of the forward facing helm felt like it was watching him, waiting for one slight mistake, even if his palms were opened in greeting.

"Smokey, what happened?" Chromia asked, her softer tone both sending a small ripple of sound across the holy chamber and drawing his gaze back to her.

Feeling like a small youngling again, Smokescreen shifted, resisting the urge to fidget with anything. Instead, he turned to face Chromia, attempting - and hopefully succeeding - to keep control of his still turbulent emotions as he told Chromia about his future:

"A few months before we got into contact with you and Ironhide, we had to make an emergency evac from our old base. I - I doubled back for Optimus, because I had a feeling he'd stay behind after seeing us all off. When I found him, he....he was barely alive."

Chromia's expression, for the first time in eons, faltered as he spoke. Focusing on her optics, he continued in a strained tone, "I managed to get him to safety. The 'Cons never found us. But, Optimus' condition worsened, and I went to get the Forge of Solus to heal him. I thought that was his plan, but apparently Optimus wanted it for something else, and...."

The dusty cave, Optimus' slowly graying frame, the Matrix baring its light towards him, the uncomfortable pull he felt almost magnetically drawing him to it as Optimus briefly died -

"Smokescreen."

His sister saying his name, as well as physically reaching out and grabbing his shoulders, broke Smokescreen out of the past. Looking at her, he saw the steel and worry in her optics as she held him upright. He belatedly realized that his frame had started shaking, and that his cycling of air had quickened.

Clearing his voice box, he opened his mouth, closed it, then whispered thickly, "I've been chosen by the Matrix of Leadership for the Primacy, and I nearly became one when Optimus temporarily died."

His accent came out in full force, the oddness of it feeling like a crack of lightning had darted through the chamber. Chromia's grip slackened before tightening somewhat. Her jaw fell open slightly, and all of the weight he'd been carrying since that day finally took its toll on him.

Smokescreen collapsed into her arms, hugging his older sister as she quickly returned the embrace. He clung to her, feeling small and scared again, as the fire at the old bar raged before his processor. Instead of seeing Roller and Aileron's kind, old faceplates though, he saw all of Team Prime, everyone he'd ever met and known, and thousands of unknown 'Bots.

All of them were his future responsibility. Choices he'd make would either kill them or allow them to live, and he could either bring them to greatness or ruin.

He wasn't ready for that. He'd never be ready for that.

But he had to be, because who else did they have when Optimus died?

"I-I'm so scared," he whimpered into her shoulder, optics feeling hot and wet as his accent ran rampant. It felt like an insult to the temple they were in - another reminder of how inadequate he would be for Primehood. "I never wanted to be a Prime, or anything more than a general. This - it's too much, too much to prepare for, to much to deal with -"

A sob escaped him, and he tried burying himself further into Chromia's frame. She couldn't take the destiny in store for him away, but she could - and always did - make him feel less alone. No matter what, she'd be there for him.

Chromia's grip tightened on him, and she gently rubbed a servo down his back. Eventually, as his sobbing slowed, she spoke:

"I can't tell you what will happen between now and that day," she said in a low, deliberately slow tone. Even she had trouble processing this news. "But I know that, even when we were little kids, you stood out from the rest. Lots of the better Mithrilian kids stayed with you. Trusted you, and you didn't fail them. You never left them behind, made sure they were cared for, and made them better 'Bots. You wouldn't bend to the afts in training when you joined, and Rocket Plume knew you were special. She wouldn't have taken just anyone under her wing, and now, because of your good Spark and her guiding servo, you've accomplished so much. Smokescreen, you are meant for more than even I ever dreamed of. I didn't know what it was, but it makes sense now. Whatever happens, I'll be right there beside you. I'll help you on that path, I'll be with you on that path, and I will never, ever leave your side. I trust you, Smokescreen. I always have, and nothing will ever change that or make me abandon you."

Smokescreen got his cycling under control and blinked his optics open. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at his sister. She seemed a bit shaken still, but in her shining optics were confirmation of her words and promises over the millennia, including today's vows. He always trusted her, always knew she never would go back on her words...but the statement helped to calm and center him.

Smokescreen smiled weakly at his big sister as she wiped away some lubricant that had leaked out from his optics. "Thank you, sister," he whispered.

Chromia smiled back. "Anytime - and for all time, little brother."

----

Walking back outside was a great relief, especially since the air quality was starting to revitalize Smokescreen a bit. Chromia had briefly introduced him to Inferno and Firestar - their team's sniper and demolitionist respectively - and it had helped to meet more Cybertronians in the wake of his confession.

Confession. Smokescreen turned that word over in his helm as he and Chromia approached the two teams nearest the middle of the temple's outside. Raf had explained that his religion had a little cell inside their churches and cathedrals where one could confess their wrongs to a priest and be pardoned, and the wrongs would never be revealed by the priest.

It was by no means the same, but Smokescreen still felt both grateful for admitting to Chromia his destiny inside the inner sanctum and a degree of kinship with half of the human population.

As they neared, he noticed that the beast-formers were nowhere to be seen. A flash that seemed blue appeared in the distant sky, and casting a quick squint in its direction, Smokescreen wondered if that was Aerobolt.

Once they'd rejoined the others, Smokescreen asked, "Where's Wilddagger and her team?"

"Lil' panther said she and the others would perform recon," Jazz spoke up, his blue visor as welcoming as his relaxed grin. "They normally do this anyway, though I think Wilddagger needed the distraction."

Smokescreen tilted his head, then observed the glance Ironhide and Chromia shared before Ironhide decided, "Yeah, Ah think she made some insightful conversations with these 'uns."

Ironhide jerked his head to Smokescreen's teammates. He then focused his gaze on Chromia as his sister nodded and agreed, "Me too. I think comparing notes later would be a good idea."

Okay, he knew the passive interrogation from his big sister was coming, but how did Ironhide seem to know the same thing? Wait - what was he implying by Wilddagger making "insightful conversations" with them?

His processor briefly ran down the possibilities. There's no way, he thought to himself in more awe than fear. Outliers of that caliber were only Cybertronian, but she's - could she be a hybrid?

Ironhide clapped his servos together, drawing Smokescreen back to the present. Rubbing them together, the General exclaimed, "Well, before all o' that, I think Jazz oughta put us through to yer base. Gotta check in on Prime and Red Alert."

Smokescreen beamed, feeling his doorwings shoot up. "Oh, awesome! I can't wait to hear how Red's doing!" he blurted, jumping in place as Jazz stepped forward and activated a long distance holographic communicator. After five seconds of connecting, the feed popped up -

- And the cacophony of sheer noise that followed sent birds shooting into the air as the mountainside fauna decided to run for their lives.

Smokescreen jerked back, the incomprehensible sight of soft-spoken Red Alert screaming at Ratchet putting the fear of Primus into him. Ironhide twisted his helm to the side before barking, "WHAT IN THE SEVENTH LAYER OF THE PIT -?!"

Red Alert paid the intrusion no heed. Ratchet was at a similar volume, but his posture and expression told Smokescreen that he was not so confident anymore. Optimus was trying to get between them, looked out at them, and proceeded to close his optics and groan.

Then it hit him, and Smokescreen felt stupid for not thinking of it earlier.

Burying his faceplate in his servos, Smokescreen willed himself not to freak out and unintentionally let out a low whine.

"Smokey, what's wrong?"

What was wrong, his sister asked?

Simple answer, he thought to himself sarcastically.

He forgot that Red Alert would be following protocol to check their medical records.

Idk how to rlly characterize red alert yet but hopefully ya like it!

‘Do you not also have constant aches?’

When Smokescreen first woke up from stasis on earth, the biggest thing he remembered was a horrible helmache. Oh, that and the alarms built into the pod screaming bloody murder at him. That made it so much worse. He remembers how nauseous he felt, nearly purging his tanks when he blasted his way out of the pod, head spinning as his gyroscopes recalibrated, Chronometer glitched straight to unicron himself, and about a dozen alerts cluttering his HUD. His memories were all out of sorts, and the headache was not making things better- but he had walked around a bit and gotten.. most of his memories sorted out.

The prison ship was still a blur. He doesn’t like thinking about it, even now.

(He could hear them. Screaming. Crying. Begging. All of them. He always had good hearing- but at the time it felt like a curse rather than a blessing. The air had a metallic scent mixed with decay and energon- and something else that felt vaguely familiar.

The autobot next to him was missing a door wing and deep cuts littering her frame- the femmes wounds were still caked with drying energon. It had caused an inconsistent drip, drip drip. The bot was muttering to herself incoherently with sapphire blue eyes dulled with hopelessness and a severe loss of energon, when he squirmed, she looked up slowly with pity in her eyes.

He couldn’t remember her name. But she remembered her voice, hoarse but filled with pride as she cheered him on- telling him to go. He wanted to save her so, so bad, but she wouldn’t let him. Perhaps she was aware she was going to die soon. Perhaps she just didn’t want to live. He hopes she passed peacefully, but knowing the cons- probably not.)

So yeah. Thats kinda what his head felt like right now. His upper chassis burned with a familiar ache, one that never went away after he got hit with the Dark Star Saber. He doesn’t want to get up today. He’s well aware that he has to, he always has to- even during off days like these. Always a mission, always something.

But moving means agitating his joints and his chassis, and he really doesn’t want to do that.

‘Stop being lazy, Smokescreen,’ a particularly venomous voice in the back of his processor.

(He ignored how much it sounded like Arcee, because she wouldn’t say that. She hated him, yes, but with good reason.)

He was being lazy anyways, he had stuff to do today. What stuff? He didn’t know yet, but there was always something to be done. And he.. didn’t want to be left alone with his processor right now. He doesn’t want to be alone. Primus he hates being alone. Plus, this sorta pain is probably normal, he’s being dramatic. There are others who’ve been in the war for years who’ve got it leagues worse than him everyday instead of every few days.

With a pitiful sound that was a combination of a groan and a whine, he pushed himself up and off the berth, his joints practically SCREAMING at him as he does so. Rubbing his servos over his faceplate to try and soothe the monster of a helmache in his processor, but to no avail. Today’s gonna suck, but atleast he can spend it with Red Alert or Chromia. He’s sorta glad he’s not on earth today- as well.. He loves Miko dearly, but by Primus does she make his head hurt worse.

He stood up fully, stretching out his arms and feeling a slight pop in his shoulders before he felt a rush of relief, the ache of his joints being soothed ever so slightly. He had to get up some century, so he finally left the building, grimacing as the light hit his optics. Red Alert was nearby, so he waved at him with the best grin he could make, though he could tell it was a little strained, judging by the slight furrow in his friends brow.

“You alright Smokescreen? Your optics are looking a bit dull.”

He winced at the sound of Red Alerts voice, which pierced straight through his skull and made everything in its overwhelming glory so much WORSE.

“Yeah- don’t worry ‘bout it Red, just the regular pains. Not to mention a helmache, I get them a lot but they still suck. Especially the one I got right now,” He doesn’t know what pressed him to admit it- was it that today was worse than normal or the fact that it was Red Alert, he will never know. Just that he did and oh Primus Did He Regret It Now.

Red tilted his helmet to the side, concern mixed with suspicion etching itself into his faceplate as he spoke, “What do you mean Regular Pains? How often do you get these helmaches?”

He tensed up, before hesitantly continuing, “Well… ya know.. I mean,. You’re a field medic and I’ve been out in the field for way less time than you- do you not have any kinda ache at all? If so please tell me your secrets. And for the helmaches? Yeah I get them a lot. No biggie though- today’s just an off day.”

Red’s face morphed into one of concern into one of horror, “You mean- chronic pain? You have- You have chronic helmaches?!! Smokescreen- that- NO! That’s not normal?! How long have you been having these?!”

Smokescreen winced at the volume and the fact that he probably messed up. He was getting Red worried over nothing!-

“It’s no biggie Red- I’ve probably had these since the.. Prison ship? I think? Maybe a bit after. It’s not that big of a deal- promise!”

He subconsciously rubbed at his chassis in a mock attempt to soothe the burning of the faint, purple tinted scar. Red made a choked sound after he finished speaking, and suddenly he became acutely aware of his sister’s(when did she get here?)horrified stare, accompanied by Wheeljack, who’s optics were locked onto him with concern. Was it really that big of a deal? A pang of guilt stabbed his spark, he was getting even Wheeljack concerned over a little pain! He shouldn’t have said anything- shouldn’t have complained-

“What? It’s just a bit of aching- it’s not that bad. I’m used to it, honest!”

Red sputtered, before he took a deep breath, “That’s not- that’s not a good thing Smokescreen! I- how does Ratchet not know this?! That’s it- Medbay. NOW.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by Red grabbing his servo and dragging him there himself. He swore he could see Chromia and Wheeljack whispering to eachother, Chromia’s eye twitching as Wheeljack looked equally pissed.

FEEL FREE TO MESS WITH OR CONTINUE HOWEVER YOU’D LIKE. I MAY WRITE MORE LATER BUT I HOPED YOU LIKE IT!

As someone who gets headaches almost everyday(albeit not as bad as Smokey’s is) I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

Smokescreen took the stretching out on the berth mechanically, in part because he suddenly felt like not moving, what the Pit?

"Red, come on, you know me," he said, beginning to sit up even as the lights seemed to make his optics sore. "It's probably all the tension from -"

"You. Keep. Your. Aft. There," Red Alert ordered, his voice and posture the image of the quintessential Autobot doctor.

Somehow Chromia had come over (Wait, how'd I not see or hear her???) and gently yet firmly pushed him back down against the berth. "Smokescreen, as your sister and superior officer, I'm ordering you off your pedes until Red Alert's cleared you, got it?"

Blinking as the edges of his vision dimmed, Smokescreen muttered, "Okay, okay."

"I swear, if that scar has anything to do with your chronic pain, I'm gonna feed Ratchet to Scourge myself," Red Alert snarled under his breath, and Smokescreen couldn't help but wince. Scrap on it all, why'd his mouth have to betray them all like that? Ironhide was already verbally eviscerating Ratchet, now he had made his best friend go after the Doc-Bot with twice as much hatred as he'd had beforehand.

"Hey kid, how many digits?" Wheeljack's drawl broke in. Glancing over, he saw the white armored Wrecker hold up a servo next to Chromia.

With what felt like sickly confidence, Smokescreen immediately answered, "One."

Chromia's optics narrowed. "How many doubles of his two digits are you seeing?" She bluntly demanded.

Smokescreen blinked as he watched six clearly fake digits move around from Wheeljack's servo. Confidence wavering as anxiety once more took over, he couldn't help but groan and blurt, "I'm sorry. I am so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear it's -"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll have Chromia sit on you while I administer a sleeping agent," Red Alert interrupted, swiveling his red visored gaze on him to silence him.

"You know I'll do it too," Chromia warned, the rage on her face not totally at odds with the worry in her optics (I used to see her make that face after having a close call with the urchins in the Sea - ohhhhhhhhhhhhh no...................)

"I think I'm gonna make a call to Magnus about this. Prime's too busy for a personal call," Wheeljack murmured, and Smokescreen snapped his helm around to stare at the Wrecker in shock - then instantly regretted it as the room swam before his optics.

"Smokey, close your optics and rest," Chromia soothed, reaching over and gently laying his helm against the foremost part of the berth. "Nothing will fall apart if you take a break, and whatever happens, we'll deal with it and talk it over with Ironhide, alright?"

As the lids of his optics began to feel heavy, Smokescreen mumbled, "Alright. Just please don't kill -"

And that was the last thing he managed to say before recharge unlawfully kidnapped him for Primus knows how long.

-

(Thanks, this was great! It's the best I got right now, but hopefully tomorrow or later this week I can start work on a separate fanfic I've been meaning to churn out for Smokey and Flint. Oh, and I think right now they're on Jungle Planet [Animatros], while Hound is getting sick as he catches up on things between Jazz, Firestar, Inferno and the native Animatrosian allies they've made and Ultra Magnus' reports post the fallout from Ratchet's malpractice.)