Thundercracker's Glory

Kenya Starflight

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't own the Transformers.

This is my first attempt at a non-crossover TF story, and the first to incorporate original characters, Mary-Sue-ism be hanged. I've had the OC kicking around for some time but couldn't find an appropriate story for her, so I figured I might as well give her her own story.

This story contains "child" Transformers. I'm aware that there is some debate over how Transformers are created and whether or not children actually exist in the TF culture. This story is my own theory, though I don't pretend it's the "right" one.


It was sound that returned first -- the groan of the ruined building settling around her, the sizzle of ripped wiring and circuitry, the hiss of air cycling through her own vents. Her audials, still partially stunned from the terrible rending explosion that had knocked her offline to begin with, tingled with pain as they received the new sounds, making her cranial shell throb. That pain only made her aware of other pains throughout her body -- scratches and dents the blast had inflicted upon her, and a painful weight on her left leg.

Cautiously she flicked on her optics, and their faint glow played upon the plating of her own arm, a battered but functional appendage that lay stretched out upon a bed of splintered metal and snarled wires. Beyond that arm lay a ragged slab of what had once been the wall of the workshop, a portion of a scrawled equation still visible upon its surface.

A faint whining registered on her audials, making her shrink back from the wall. Then she realized the noise was coming from her own vocalizer.

"Mommy?" she whimpered. "Daddy? Where are you?"

The only reply was a rumbling crunch as another portion of the workshop collapsed, showering her with sparks and shrapnel. She cried out and flung her arms over her head to shield herself. Air was pulsing through her vents in great gasps now, her cooling system kicked into overdrive by her panic. Where were her creators? The last she had seen of them was her father's chestplate as he tackled her to the floor, shoving her out of the path of a blazing ribbon of gunfire...

"Help! Somebody help me!" She scrambled to her hands and knees, but could go no further than that. A heavy support beam crushed her left leg halfway up the calf, trapping her. She kicked at the beam with her free leg ineffectually, shouting for her parents all the while. Where were they, why weren't they here for her now...

The ruined wall in front of her shifted, and light streamed down upon her as a powerful arm flung it aside. Her optics stabbed with pain before cutting their power down to prevent damage from the sudden flood of light.

"What's this?" That wasn't her father. She shrank back, whimpering, holding her arms up as if they would block off an attacker. They'd come back for her, they'd blow her up like they had Daddy's lab assistants, they'd melt her down into slag without a second thought...

"She's alive!" came another voice. "If she survived, the scientists might have too..."

The support beam lifted, and a set of hands grabbed her beneath the arms and hefted her into the air. She struggled against the mech's grip, screaming, her fists clanging against his chestplate and her feet ringing against his thighs.

"Primus, she packs a punch," her captor muttered. "Hey, cool it, little one, it's all right... you're safe, no one's gonna hurt you..."

Her hands fell on something smooth and curved... a cockpit? Her thrashing ceased as she pulled away from the broad chest to look at the mech's face. Scarlet eyes regarded her from within a dark-helmed face, and sleek wings jutted from his broad shoulders like a cyberhawk. A Seeker! Relief flooded her systems, and she buried her face in his chest and held tightly to him.

"A child," the first mech noted, sounding disappointed. "We get spark-readings from the ruins, and it's a child. I thought it was one of the scientists..."

"What are you saying? That she'd be better off dead? One live Decepticon's good enough for me, whether or not it's a scientist." The Seeker patted her back with a broad hand. "You all right, little one? Where's your creators?"

She tried to answer, but her vocalizer stuttered, and she only tucked her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder and cried.


There were certain facts regarding life in the Decepticon's base on Earth that you just didn't question. They were never written down, never even really discussed, but everyone accepted them as truth nevertheless. A prime example would be that for every action of Starscream's, especially if it involved an attempted coup or a sarcastic aside, there was an equal or (more often) greater and opposite reaction from Megatron, usually ending up with Starscream paying Hook a visit once said reaction was over. Another example -- inevitably after a battle, no matter the outcome, you could expect a monologue from Dead End regarding the pointlessness of the entire Autobot/Decepticon battle and how everyone was just going to end up fodder for rust mites anyhow, a monologue that Motormaster preferred to cut off by means of a sharp blow to the head.

The most important unspoken yet irrefutable truth -- you kept Skywarp busy at all times. No matter the circumstances, no one wanted a bored Skywarp on their hands. A bored Skywarp quickly became an inventive Skywarp, and an inventive Skywarp was nothing short of an extremely dangerous -- not to mention irritating -- Skywarp.

Unfortunately, today the Decepticons had let themselves forget this truth and left the Seeker to his own devices. Granted, they had other things on their CPUs -- they had suffered a brutally humiliating defeat at the hands of Prime's forces, and over half of the troops were languishing in the repair bay with various injuries. The Decepticon Air Commander might have done something to curb Skywarp's boredom, but he was currently on the receiving end of Megatron's wrath as the Decepticon Leader vented his rage at Starscream's grasp for power that had once again led to their defeat. And Thundercracker, who could normally be counted on to keep Skywarp occupied at times like this, had been drafted into orderly-work by Hook and the Constructicons, playing fetch-and-carry as they worked on getting the wounded back on their feet.

So Skywarp was bored... and decided to do something about it for himself.

Primus, TC, the Autobot brig's cheerier than your room, he thought as he slipped into his fellow Seeker's recharge quarters, having a look around. Apart from the recharge berth and his personal computer console, the room was barren. There were a few datapads on the berth -- bookfiles, from the look of it -- but no other signs of personal affects.

He snorted and went to the computer. Ah well. If Thundercracker wanted to be a dullard, that was his problem. But maybe Skywarp could at least liven his computer up. He'd already gotten the Coneheads' computers -- they would come back from repair bay to find the Dancing Banana on their consoles with no way to shut him up. Now it was Thundercracker's turn.

"Come up with something more creative than CYBERTRON for your password," he muttered to himself, and he popped a disc in and set to work on installing the program. While waiting for the information to transfer, he decided to poke around and see what he could find. Thundercracker spent a lot of time on his computer during his off time; what was so slagging interesting anyhow...

Sweet, he's got the World of Warcraft expansion pack! he noted, grinning. No wonder he spent most of his spare time in here. He made a mental note to look into the game the next chance he got.

A few picture files caught his attention, and he opened the folder to have a look. What sort of images would Thundercracker keep on his computer...

Huh. Not what he was expecting. The first picture was of a couple of kids -- sparklings that didn't even have alt forms or proper weapons yet. A mech and a femme from the look of it, play-wrestling on the floor, with the femme holding her opponent in a loose headlock and laughing all the while. The boy, despite his position, was grinning from audial to audial... and Skywarp realized he'd seen that grin before, though the owner of that grin rarely showed it anymore...

He flipped to the next picture. Again the two sparklings, this time posing for the camera somewhat more sedately -- if you ignored the fingers the femme was holding up behind the young Thundercracker's head like a set of horns or the ears of an Earth rabbit.

The next image was unmistakably the same two Transformers, despite the fact that their sparks were no longer housed in the body shells of children, but the powerful bodies of Decepticon Seekers. Thundercracker was now the deep-blue-and-silver Seeker Skywarp was familiar with, but he wore that same smile the boy had. And the femme... she was beautiful. Emerald green and silver, with the slender build and slightly narrower wings typical of femme Seekers, she had a disarming smile and a mischevious glint to her optics that her younger self had shared. Skywarp wondered how he could wrangle more information on her out of Thundercracker without making it obvious he'd been snooping in his files.

More images of the two... standing at stiff attention but wearing slight smiles of excitement at an Academy graduation... in Cybertronian jet mode spiraling through the sky... Thundercracker showing off his Decepticon decals for the camera, blissfully unaware of the evilly-grinning femme posed behind him with a bucket of oil...

The last image was obviously taken at a bonding ceremony, and for the first time a third mech was included -- a blocky teal-and-white Decepticon with a scarlet visor over his optics and what appeared to be tank treads on his shoulders. The femme leaned against this new mech with a tender smile, an action the tank didn't seem at all displeased with. Thundercracker stood on the femme's other side, looking pleased at this course of events. Skywarp snorted. Fool. If Thundercracker had possessed any sense, he would have chased the tank-mech off long ago and claimed the femme for himself, not let her be bonded to a ground-bound behemouth...

Don't be an idiot, he told himself. Isn't it obvious who she is? If they spent this much time together as sparklings...

"Get out."

He whirled to see Thundercracker standing in the doorway, arms folded across his cockpit. No bright smile that had been so evident in the pictures graced his face now -- in fact, he looked ready to dismantle someone piece by piece. Someone like Skywarp...

"Hey TC, didn't mean to..." he protested, holding up his hands.


Skywarp flinched a little at Thundercracker's roar. "Um... I can't really get out when you're blocking the doorway..."

With a snarl and a rare show of temper Thundercracker stormed forward, grabbing Skywarp by the wings and jerking him out of the chair.

"Hey!" Skywarp yelped as the blue jet hauled him across the room and practically threw him out the door. "Hey, what's her name?"

Thundercracker glared, and Skywarp wanted to kick himself. He hadn't meant for that last to slip out...

"Stay out of my room," the blue Seeker snarled. "And stay the slag away from my files, too." And the door hissed shut.

Skywarp stared at the closed door for a long while, still trying to process everything he had seen. He guessed he shouldn't have been that surprised -- Thundercracker never talked about any friends or relatives back on Cybertron, and whenever the subject came up he tended to shy away from it. But still, for some reason it floored Skywarp to know his wingmate had... a sister.