Disclaimer: ‘Transformers’ and all related media, merchandise and trademarks do not belong to me and I am not making any money from using them in this fictional work. They belong to their respective companies and I am not affiliated with them in any way whatsoever. Any original characters or concepts in this story that are from other fictions are used with direct permission from the authors in question.

“When We Dared the Dawn”
Transformers: Deux Claret
Part Three

Chapter One
Mighty Wings

”I’m pregnant.”

Ratchet was absolutely certain, for a fair amount of time, that he had misheard his charge’s brutally honest confession.

She had come to him as usual at precisely eleven o’clock in the morning with Rose, once they had consumed their breakfasts and made the ‘necessary’ cosmetic adjustments to their appearances; she had unpacked her tools from their red metal box, and tied her dark hair back, as usual, to keep it out of her face as she worked; there had been nothing out of the ordinary, and no changes to their daily routine that the they had kept to, now, for a total of four years.

And then . . . that had come out.

There was a short, sharp gasp from his knee level, followed by the painful clatter of a spanner and a screwdriver being dropped.

“What – Mikaela?” a flabbergasted, thickly accented British voice interrupted his state of complete shock, and he glanced down to see Rose’s oil-smeared features contorting into a look of opposing horror and joy. “You’re – oh my bloody God, you’re what?”

“Yes,” the medical officer managed faintly, still staring at Mikaela. “I . . . think you ought to repeat that, Mikaela.”

His slim, suntanned young assistant put a hand to the bridge of her nose and pinched it tiredly – a motion Ratchet recognised from his own repertoire of exhausted gestures, which he cycled through on a near-hourly basis every day and night – before she took a deep, seemingly calming breath and smoothed a few strands of hair that had strayed from its messy ponytail out of her face.

“I said I’m pregnant,” she huffed impatiently. “Expecting. Knocked-up; bun in the oven; in the family way – do I need to keep elaborating?”

Vector Sigma.

A wave of horrendous, overwhelming alarm threatened to engulf Ratchet’s central processing unit as he stared at her – willing her to grin, laugh, and berate them for falling so easily for her hilarious gag. But there was no hint of mischief in her blue-green eyes; not so much as a trace of humour touched her face as she folded her arms and gave him a flat stare, her mouth twisting into an aggravated grimace as she glanced at Rose, shrugging her slender shoulders as if it was nothing.

Nothing!

Primus, this was dreadful!

When Mikaela’s father had entrusted his only daughter to him and given him full, legal guardianship of her, he hadn’t meant for her to be impregnated in his care! He had vowed that nothing would happen to her – that she would be absolutely safe and untouched under his watchful optic – this was not ‘untouched’!

She could obviously read his horror on his face, if her eye-roll and heavy sigh were anything to go by.

“You’re gonna kill me, right?”

“Bloody hell, woman, didn’t you use birth control of some sort?” Rose cut across her friend, her mouth hanging open and her . . . beautiful eyes wide in astonishment. Ratchet could empathise with that entirely. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re up the spout. Are you sure? You double-checked the test?” She paused and shook her head. “Wait – did you do a test?”

“Of course I did!” Mikaela exclaimed, looking quite affronted and jamming her hands onto her hips indignantly. “I’m not that stupid. And yes, we did use birth control – it just didn’t . . . work.”

Her paternal unit was going to be insane with wrath when they next met.

Insane.

“Your father is going to have me melted down for spare parts,” Ratchet muttered in a disillusioned undertone, shuttering his optics as if to make it all go away. He wished it would go away. “I swore to him that I would mind your antics with Sam, and this happens.”

Mikaela tossed her ponytail, her face reddening a little. “Ratch’, I’m twenty-two years old now,” she pointed out heatedly, planting her hand on her denim-clad hip and stabbing a finger in his direction as if to make a point. “It isn’t as if I’m not legal. And when Dad said to ‘keep an eye on me’, he didn’t mean literally. I don’t have to report to you directly if I want to have sex with my boyfriend of eight years.” She looked at him defiantly for three seconds before her face crumpled and she let out a moan of despair. “Oh my God, what am I gonna do?!”

What indeed, Ratchet thought dryly as he watched Rose rush to Mikaela’s side as the brunette broke down, wailing plaintively.

So many different emotions and thoughts were screeching through his CPU. He was absolutely furious with the imprudent girl for being so absurdly careless – yet seeing her crying made him realise that she did, at least, understand the consequences of her actions. However, the fear of her father’s wrath was still chewing at his circuitry . . . as was the frustration with himself when he realised that he was staring, like an utter fool, at Rose’s unclothed legs as she rushed to comfort Mikaela.

He turned away furiously, fixing his subversive optics on the floor.

Four years had passed since he had met Rose Connelly . . . yet still, he had not told her.

“And I haven’t even told him!” Mikaela was howling into Rose’s shoulder when Ratchet dared himself to look up again, annoyance fuelling the movement. “Oh m-my God – Sam’s going to die! He’s j-just an awkward, totally dorktastic guy, Rose – he still acts l-like he’s twelve years old sometimes! He’s g-g-gonna freak! And his mom’s gonna freak! And his dad’s gonna –”

“Mikaela!” Ratchet thundered, his patience reaching its absolute limit.

He loved his charge as he would love a sparkling, but this was ridiculous.

Mikaela swallowed her sobs with an audible gulp, her lip trembling and her eyes full of tears as she huddled against Rose. Ratchet knew that she must be incredibly upset – usually Mikaela was the one comforting Rose and being the strong one, rather than vice versa.

“Y-yeah?” she responded meekly, and Rose glanced at him with a warning in her eye.

Did she expect him to go easy on the irresponsible girl after this?

However, his expression immediately softened when he caught sight of the childish desperation glistening in his charge’s eyes. Perhaps he was just going soft, but he could not find it in his spark to reprimand her any further for her reckless inattention.

A heavy sigh escaped his vents and he knelt down before the two human females he had come to have such affection for. He extended a single finger to his charge and she touched it with a trembling hand, her other arm slung around Rose’s waist. “Come, Mikaela . . . There is no need for tears,” he murmured consolingly, and she coughed out another sob. “I apologise for reacting so angrily, my dear. We should think of this as a joyous occasion . . . After all, you are carrying a whole new life.”

“Yeah!” Rose agreed enthusiastically, squeezing Mikaela’s shoulder. “Come on, ‘Kaela. You’re carrying a member of the next generation of Autobot allies! Imagine what a great life this kid’s going to have!”

“But I’d make a crap parent!” Mikaela insisted tearfully. “I’d use a diaper to buff a car, not stick it on the kid’s ass!”

Ratchet canted an optic ridge.

Rose didn’t look as if she knew quite what to make of the statement, and he could hardly blame her. “Well . . . that’s just your nature!” she reassured her, quirking an eyebrow back at Ratchet and pulling a face. “Jade likes babies; she’ll help you out. And I’d wager that Ironhide would babysit for you and give the little guy a crash-course in cannons – all for free! Who gets that these days?”

Mikaela managed to choke out a feeble laugh, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah,” she sniffed, a wobbly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Maybe I should give it an Autobot name, like ‘Disaster Area’.”

“Now you are just being foolish,” Ratchet scolded her gently, ruffling her hair with his fingertip and offering her a small, pardoning smile. “As always.”

He confessed that there were many obstacles that this declaration would create . . . some more demanding than others. Firstly, Mikaela had to overcome her dread and tell Sam that he had unintentionally fathered a sparkling; not only that, but the two of them would have to tell their parents at one point or another. Funds and accommodation were no issue whatsoever – Mikaela had lived at the Autobot base for over five years, and would be welcome there for the rest of her life – but she was a very active and lively young woman. She loved her work in the medical wing, and he knew that she would be loath to give it up to take care of a sparkling.

But . . . surely they could help her through it?

Mikaela was by no means a weak human. She had faced Decepticons with no more than a pistol and a bad attitude; suffered under an electric shock gun for his sake at the warehouse battle that seemed so long ago now; faced Unicron’s drones at Mission City – and yet, in the face of it all, she had still come out with her tremendous character and strength intact. It would take more than an unanticipated pregnancy to break Mikaela Banes.

Rose tightened her grasp on Mikaela’s shoulder, giving her an encouraging hug. “Come on, Mikaela. You’ll be fine.” She grinned mischievously then, and Ratchet eyed her suspiciously. “Have you had any cravings yet?”

“No, but I’ve had morning sickness,” Mikaela moaned, looking nauseous at the mere mention of it. “Ironhide’s gonna kill me if he hears me barfing.”

‘Morning sickness’ . . . He had heard of this condition before. He executed a quick scan of the World Wide Web and discovered that it was a condition properly known as emesis gravidarum, and affected between fifty and ninety-five percent of expectant human women. From what he could see, it did not appear to be serious, but he would have to keep an optic on her and scan her regularly to check that it didn’t develop into hyperemesis gravidarum, which could cause massive dehydration through vomiting.

“Ironhide won’t kill you,” Rose sighed, clicking her tongue and rolling her outlined eyes. “I might kill you if you wake me up with it at some unholy hour with your gagging sounds, but you can always appease me with a big mug of tea.”

“Oh, you and your Goddamn tea,” Mikaela laughed tearfully, hugging Rose back as she smeared another tear away. “Aw, Rose . . . I love you, y’know.”

Rose shook her head, smiling affectionately. “I love you too, my fellow mechanic. Pregnant mechanic,” she corrected herself, grinning at Ratchet. His spark sang when he observed, for the umpteenth time, how her eyes sparkled when she smiled like that. “Well, this is going to be a fun nine months. When’re you going to tell Sam, love?” she added curiously, looking at Mikaela again.

“It would be prudent to tell him soon, Mikaela,” Ratchet put in, feeling the need to ‘jog her memory’ despite her uncomfortable expression. “He will need nine months to recover from the shock, if I know Sam Witwicky as well as I do.”

“Mm . . . He’s not exactly great with bombshells,” Rose agreed, looking thoughtful. “Remember when I told him that Miles used to be a woman?”

Primus.

Ratchet gave up.

“Hummmmmm . . . hummmmm . . .”

“Miles?”

“Hummmmmm.”

“. . . Miles.”

“Hummmmmmmmmm –”

“Oh, for the love of Primus, blondie – SHUT THE SLAG UP!”

This exasperated shout didn’t come from Arcee, who had spoken to her charge in a gentle tone the first time his name had been spoken; nor from the ever-heroic Sam Witwicky, who had tried his best, a few moments after her, to awaken Miles Lancaster from what appeared to be some kind of deep, inspirational trance . . . or, possibly, a strange religious rite of some sort.

No; this furious cry came from between the oh-so-perfectly-moulded mouthplates of the mighty Autobot warrior – the one and only Sunstreaker – who, in all honestly, had taken more of this noise than any self-respecting idol of beauty could be expected to put up with.

This was his time. His special, alone time . . . just with himself, and his beautiful reflection, dancing on the surface of the lake.

And now the kid was humming.

Miles’s stone-grey eyes flew open at once, and he looked genuinely shocked to find Sunstreaker glaring daggers at him from the bank. His skinny legs were crossed, with his open-toe sandals resting on his thighs, and his hands had been raised to the heavens in what looked suspiciously, to Sunstreaker, like some bizarre act of worship. Primus, the only thing that these unsightly humans should be worshipping in this place was him! What was he looking at the sky for – did the sky have optics as strikingly blue and spark-searing as his? Did the sky boast a paintjob as perfect; as shiny; as golden?

No.

Blinking several times, the human looked from one face to the other, frowning. “Dude, I was meditating.”

The Autobot snorted dismissively, returning his gaze to the water – over which he was bent, as was his daily habit, in absolute adoration of his own image. “Well, what the Pit were you doing that for?”

“Sunstreaker, man . . . it’s fall,” Miles informed him in a reverent undertone, as if he didn’t already know what fragging season it was on this planet. “You gotta respect that. I need to commune. Can’t you feel all the energy comin’ from the trees? Check out all the colours – that’s positive energy, man. Positive energy,” he said again, rolling the two words around his tongue and emphasising each syllable. “Maybe if you looked up from your own face for like, one whole minute –”

“Never!”

Primus. What a suggestion.

He, for one, couldn’t work out what the slag had happened to Miles over the last four years, since the hideously-paintjob-damaging battle at Mission City. He had been a strange human to begin with – awkward; strangely dressed; maybe a bit socially backward in general – but still relatively normal compared to some humans that he’d come across. Now, however – at the ripe age of twenty-three – he had become some kind of . . . what was the word Sam had used? Hippy.

Sure, he still went on frequent Prank Patrol with the twins, Sam and Bumblebee, and came up with some pretty ingenious plans to get Ratchet’s tailpipe in a twist – though not as great as Sunstreaker’s schemes, of course – but he also climbed trees, hugged trees, drunk absurd amounts of herbal tea infusions, and constantly went on about what he called ‘positive energy’.

He would have liked to ram positive energy right down the kid’s throat at some point, just to see what that did for him . . . but he had been distracted from himself for long enough already.

Sideswipe snickered from somewhere behind him, and he could hear Arcee tittering nearby. “Miles; my good, naïve young sir . . . You couldn’t tear Sunstreaker from his own face if you dangled his spark partner in front of him and did that crazy human dance that you call ‘the hula’.”

“You got that from a Disney movie,” Sam said accusingly.

“Nope. That’s Bumblebee’s thing, my friend.”

Bumblebee himself was in the base with Skyfire and Optimus, discussing the the new human who was supposed to be being picked up by Ironhide and Jade. Why they had to have another human messing the place up was just beyond Sunstreaker – something to do with a favour that one of the soldiers from Mission City had asked Optimus – but he guessed that the kid could be vaguely bearable. Anything was better than Miles harping on about how certain types of tree had healing powers if one climbed to the very top of them and lit an incense stick.

Staring into his own slanted, cobalt-blue optics, Sunstreaker smiled to himself contentedly as he began to plan his next attack on the Hatchet’s medical wing. This time, he and Sideswipe had agreed that they could be a little more daring . . . so the plan was to break into there, spray-paint the entire place with glitter, and have Sam and Miles write ‘I love Rose’ in permanent ink on every single one of his tools.

Okay – so he would kill them with said tools afterwards, whether they were covered in glitter and pen or not. But it would be worth it for sure, just to see his furious expression.

One thing that he would have loved to do was to pull some outrageous prank on Starscream, who was taking annual leave from the Air Force with Alexis for thirty days. However, even Sunstreaker wouldn’t have dared to do anything to the Autobot First Lieutenant – Primus only knew why Prime had promoted him to that, when his ego was big enough to rival Sunstreaker’s as it was – for fear of getting his aft handed to him. Starscream would have no qualms about scratching his paintjob, whereas Ratchet might not have done, though he threatened to do so every day.

He still wished Ratchet would slagging get with Rose already, though. He was lucky – his spark partner had already come along, and he was being a complete prude about it! Why wasn’t he already fragging the girl, when he had waited four years with no show?

Stupid All Spark, he thought morosely. ‘Closer than you think’, my gleaming golden aft.

Some mechs just didn’t know how lucky they were.

Flight.

God, it was exhilarating. The feel of the air guiding the wings of the aircraft; the furious gun of the jet’s engine, snarling its sentiments to the sky; the weightlessness, the speed, the height.

Starscream.

An irresistible grin spread across the face of the F-22 Raptor’s twenty-three year old pilot beneath her mandatory oxygen mask, lighting the bottle green eyes that lay beneath the glass shield of the young woman’s protective helmet. Her pale, delicate fingers flexed around the flight controls without any particular reason for doing so – seeing as the powerful stealth jet was in no way under her personal command – but it was a habit that she knew she’d never kick.

“Yeah, copy that, Lieutenant,” one of the other trainee pilots in their squadron was saying, addressing their commanding officer. “But are you gonna let us go for the day, sir? Don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting airsick of this training exercise.”

There was an immediate outbreak of sniggering at this, and Alexis’s smile widened.

“I second that, sir,” she volunteered.

“Hush up, Paxton,” was the predictable response, “and don’t even think about it, Starscream.”

She shook her head, her smirk widening into a grin again. Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Harrington was the guy that had seen her through her Air Force training since she had enrolled; he could be an ass, and frequently was to the rookies that he trained, but the fact that he had been a close friend of her father meant that he had always had a bit of a soft spot for her. He reminded her of Ironhide in many ways – tough and short-tempered on the outside, but with an undeniable heart of gold.

Starscream’s voice sounded through the speakers when he was addressed directly by the commanding officer, sounding insulted. “What?” he demanded snappily. “You don’t think I’m not going to agree with her, Harrington? This is a pointless exercise! I could learn these aerial techniques in a nanoclick, if I hadn’t several millennia ago.”

“Someone’s pissy today,” Harrington remarked amusedly.

“Hold your tongue, human.”

Alexis probably would have intervened between the two of them at this point – just as Ironhide and Starscream clashed, so did Ironhide’s human counterpart of her mind – but her closest friend out of the cadets beat her to it.

Kia Hawkins – a mouthy, slightly bad-tempered Texan country girl of twenty-two, who spent half her time in the air and the other half participating in downtown dirt bike races – was the one who replied, and Alexis could just feel the verbal tussle coming up. If there was one person who didn’t take crap from the masses, it was Kia Hawkins – and if there was one person who loved to dish said crap to the masses, it was Starscream.

“Ah, suck it up, ‘Screamer,” she snapped from the neighbouring Raptor. “You’ve gotta admit that you’re pissy today. PMS much?”

“What are you –?” Starscream begun impatiently.

“It’s nothing, Starscream,” Alexis interrupted speedily, patting the side of the cockpit calmingly before he could figure out exactly what PMS was. No matter how much spunk Kia had, she would be dead within two seconds if he identified the nature of her insult. “So, you were saying, sir? Can we all go home now, or do we have to carry on barrel rolling ourselves into the next life? I don’t know about you, but my watch says five-thirty, and five o’clock was home time . . ."

Harrington snorted. “‘Home time’, Paxton? What are you, a kindergartener?”

“Well, she did save the world, Ben,” Kia reminded the commander audaciously, using his first name in her trademark, indecorous way. “She says its home time, it’s home time! Screw the friggin’ barrel rolls – we’ve done ‘em all a thousand times.”

“Much as hate the human, I must agree,” Starscream muttered, prompting Kia into flipping him off. “I’m tired of them.”

The Lieutenant Colonel sounded annoyed now, but Alexis could sense that he was weakening before the relentless moaning of his cadets. “You’ll thank me when you’re facing off against God-only-knows-what-country’s jets, you punk-ass kids!” he threatened. “I ought to drag you all to the Army’s boot camp. They’d knock some sense into you. And as for you, Starscream – I don’t care whether you were Air Commander of the entire universe in a past life, but you’re not now. So zip it, sonny.”

Alexis growled with frustration before Starscream could retort – or worse, open fire on Harrington’s plane. “Come on, sir – please?” she begged. “Come on, this is our last day before Starscream and I take our annual vacation!”

“I know, and that’s why I’m clinging to you. Thirty days without my two . . . star . . . pupils?”

There was a groan from every pilot.

“That was bad, sir.”

“I thought I was your star pupil?” Kia complained, but with good humour. She was a little bitchy by nature, but she did have a soft side hidden beneath the tough-girl exterior – which was why Alexis had befriended her in the first place, in spite of Starscream’s moaning about what a nuisance she was. “You cut me deep, Ben.”

Harrington sighed heavily. “Go home, Hawkins.”

“Aww! Thanks, partner – I will.”

Alexis would have actually been bouncing on her seat with eagerness if the safety harness hadn’t prevented her from doing so without a considerable amount of pain. “Sir?” she pleaded insistently, using her most persuasive, sugary tone of voice. “Permission to take leave? I swear we’ll practise as many barrel rolls as you like when we’re away – we won’t be rusty when we get back.”

“‘Rusty’? Me?” Starscream scoffed. “I think not.”

“You’d better not be,” Harrington warned before he paused. “All right, get outta here. Have a good vacation – don’t get into trouble.”

She saluted him, and he gave her a thumbs-up from his plane. “Thanks, sir. See you in thirty days.”

With that, Starscream gunned his jets and shot past him in the direction that Kia had flown in, letting out a string of triumphant Cybertronian as Alexis removed the headgear and oxygen mask that Air Force rules decreed that she had to wear, shaking out her short, light brown locks and blinking several times to get used to vision without the helmet’s visor. A relieved sigh escaped her and she leant back in her seat, loosening the rounded collar of her flame-retardant, lightweight flight suit.

“Rusty . . .” her guardian was still muttering, and she laughed.

“Oh, come on, Star’. Thirty days of freedom are coming our way. We can barrel roll however we like.”

Starscream had liked the idea of being in the United States Air Force initially – but Alexis knew very well that he had only liked it because he thought he was going to be able to win the weak, human commander over and take control of the entire squadron. He hadn’t counted on having a stubborn, tough-as-nails guy like Harrington as a superior . . . and he really didn’t like it . . . but she knew that he enjoyed flying full stop, and did it for her sake.

Working in the Air Force had been a dream of hers since her father had been a pilot, and now she was finally living it – and with Starscream at her side, it was all the better. It was tough as hell, but not as tough as it could have been. Her deeds on the day of Unicron’s defeat, as well as her father’s favourable and respectable position as an Air Force Captain before he had… died… had meant that Keller had helped her in the career path, and she knew she was up for a promotion pretty soon.

Kia and the other pilots had been informed about Starscream as soon as he and Alexis had enrolled – not that they’d been too shocked, given the fact that the whole world knew about the aliens on Earth, but very few people were aware of the new base’s location in Wisconsin, or anything much about the Cybertronians at all. It had been necessary to hide that information from the public eye, or they would have had journalists and other people knocking on the door every damn day.

Her job was fantastic, and it gave her something to do, and a little money to bring in for base maintenance – not that they really needed it, but she still wanted to contribute something to the Autobot lifestyle – but she was happy to have some rest, and some time to spend with the others.

Starscream sounded pleased when he replied. “Good. Some time away from that obnoxious commander and the Hawkins girl.”

“Hey!” the young woman protested, though she was still smiling. Their relationship made her laugh . . . on the inside. “Kia’s actually really nice. And so is Harrington, once you get to know him. Or once you salute him real good a couple of times.”

“Or you could be mentally unstable.”

Alexis smiled softly, a few of his memories flashing through her head as he thought of them. “So I’ve been told.” He grunted by way of a reply, but she could tell that he was far less irritable now that he wasn’t being forced to do such unbearably inferior aerial acrobatics. “Come on, let’s go home. Ironhide and Jade will be on their way back by now.”

She could almost hear the optic-roll that followed this helpful aide memoire. “Wonderful,” Starscream muttered, true to form. “Another human to add to our ever-growing collection.”

“Just shut up and get us home, will you?”

Pause.

Dropping her head into her palm, Alexis sighed, smiling slightly, before she added, “Lord Starscream.”

Author’s Note: Hello again, everybody! I promised the sequel, and here it is… I’m very pleased to present ‘When We Dared the Dawn’, the third and final of the Deux Claret series. I’m already having great fun writing it, and I hope the read will be as enjoyable for you as its predecessors. The story takes place four years after the end of ‘The Day We Hailed the Heavens’, so the kids are a fair bit more mature… well, except Sam and the newly hippified Miles… but will they EVER grow up? Anyway, I’m back to school for more gruelling studying now, but I fully intend to finish this series – keep your eyes open for updates, and I promise that they’ll come! And I promise they’ll be WAY longer than this appallingly short introduction. Reviews are much appreciated, as always.

Note: The cameo character featured in this chapter, Kia Hawkins, belongs to weapon13WhiteFang. She won’t be appearing again in this fiction, except for one small scene in a later chapter, but if you like the sound of her, I recommend that you check out the story she hails from, ‘Not Some Wishful Thought’, which is on my favourites list on my profile. Happy reading! :)