Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. New story arc that is going to be complicated and I will try to post it without too many time lapses. Treat for those who read this on Monday, several chapters in different versions added for your enjoyment.

You will need to add IF AN AUTOBOT DO NOT DO THE FOLLOWING 2, 3, 4, and 5 to your story alert, author alert, favorite story etc as they appear.

This version has gotten to huge to manage BUT WILL CONTINUE!!! When the next piece, # 2 gets up to about 75 – 80 chapters I will switch to IF AN AUTOBOT DO NOT DO THE FOLLOWING 3 and so forth. Look for my writing name "hummergrey" if in doubt.

Artinghle Four does not exist elsewhere, made up name. I read a clip where Optimus once had an alt mode as a small ship on a water world. Same red and blue in general but different transform. The sand bar incident is also not elsewhere. Again, if you want to use anything from here, please ask and send me the link to add to my profile page. Until all are one, Layra aka hummergrey and Prowl.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

In the main Autobot hanger, Prowl glared at the wall screen, displaying a list instead of the weather map. "Who?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. The mainframe had been hacked, that much was clear. However, which bot was another matter as no intrusion traces remained in the system. He doubted it was the twins this time even as laughter or discreet snickers sounded from the others as they read.

You know you are destined to be a COMMAND / SECURITY OFFICER:

a. You make rules to assist uneducated and stubborn mechs and femmes.

b. You draw weapons only as a reminder of force and fire only in those situations that strictly require force to restrain and not to offline.

c. You way with words are better than all the literature of earth.

d. You care about your fellow Autobots even if you spend all your time locked in your little office with datapads.

e. You have brigged every bot.

f. You are in the brig often to clean it, inspect it and make it escape proof but never for being in trouble.

g. You allow yourself to be blackmailed but what is in your locked and nine times tamper proof secured files on them is a thousand times worse.

h. Consistency, enforcement and reliability are every breem guidelines to follow.

i. Impossible is on the forbidden list, as is idiot proof, fireproof and the phrase: this plan will work, I guarantee it.

j. Arresting and confining your friends is not what you want out of life but you enforce the rules to save others from harm they may do to themselves or each other even as it costs you to be the heavy bot to do it.

k. You are greeted with "I didn't do it!" instead of good morning, nice day or how are you.

l. You recharge after thoroughly completing the day's work, the area is secure and tomorrows pile is ready to review or hand out.

m. You having a bad day means every other bot is having fun, lots and lots of fun.

n. If you offline, every prankster would miss you appreciating and recoding their handiwork in reports for the next generation.

"That covers every major category," Prowl vented then noticed Bumblebee pointing over his shoulder. He activated his rear view cam, reading the new list that appeared on the wall.

Wheeljack's bars flashed into a soft brown before fading out. "Not what I wanted," the inventor murmured.

"Me either," Prowl noted.

You know you are destined to be a TWIN:

a. You ignore the rules being smart, sleek and stubborn. The more they learn to accept your behavior, the less they have to forgive later.

b. Actions on the battlefield make up for your behavior off it.

c. You can blow a command officer's emotional processor faster than a Decepticon with words and actions.

d. You care about your fellow Autobots and spread out the pranks evenly so no bot is left out.

e. You are in the brig more than your own recharge berth.

f. You are jealous when another bot is in your brig, even if for a short time.

g. You blackmail only a few, the stuff is too good to waste if no other mech or femme knows it.

h. You demonstrate creativity, uniqueness and achieve results not even imaginable until you did it.

i. Impossible is the challenge to get your day going.

j. You sacrifice your time and creativity to make sure your fellow bots lighten up and have fun.

k. You are greeted with "what did you do now?" instead of good morning, how are you or what is new?

l. You recharge earlier or later because that is the perfect time to carry out your plans.

m. You having a bad day means Prime, Prowl or Ratchet is having a good one.

n. If you offline, every bot would become too serious and boring.

Ultra Magnus noted the lack of colors on Wheeljack's bars, discerning the reason. The tall commander took two steps, moving across half the floor effortlessly, careful to not jar or come too close to the smaller bots. With a hydraulic hissing, he crouched low towards the pink and white femme. "Arcee, are you free? Need your help with a project."

"Why me?" She looked up, keeping the same low vocal tones.

"I think in terms of military strategy. I see the problem, know the solution but am unable to form the exact steps required to implement it." He explained as the others continued making comments about the list.

"Meaning?" Her optics focused tightly on him, wondering exactly what he was asking.

"I need your skill at reaching to the spark and helping to heal it. Wheeljack has been left out and deserves more. You helped treat him in recovery after the Decepticon encounter. And been a friend to any bot here that needs it without forming a serious personal relationship. Why did you never chose to be a medic?'

"My profile came back a resounding no because of Factor 10ba," she admitted, her tone sheepish.

"Which is?" he tilted his head, unable to find that code reference.

"Too kind. I grieve too hard; suffer too much when I cannot help them. You have to move on and keep moving or your spark dims into nothingness at the end. Medics may last eons and never crash, others crash too quickly."

"You would not last," he realized.

"No, I am not Ratchet. He has been a medic longer than I have existed," her tone reflected her respect. They moved to the corner to talk and a minute later, the wall screen flashed, then the new list appeared.

"Hey Wheeljack, read this!" Hound yelled, pointing towards the wall as the inventor turned, barely raising his optics. His bars flashed a rainbow of colors as he read.

You know you are destined to be an INVENTOR / SCIENTIST:

a. You are intent on your work to the point of forgetting to recharge, top up energon or acknowledge time passing. We will check on you but you need to dust yourself off once in awhile.

b. Damage is part of the learning process.

c. Your guesses are better than most solid facts of other races.

d. You care about your fellow Autobots and make the best inventions to help them, or that is the plan.

e. You visit bots in the brig to find out how they managed to create that effect, explosion or result.

f. You are never in the brig but med bay is more familiar than your own private recharge area.

g. Your idea of blackmail is building a super encrypted message system.

h. You design and make work (after a few tries) what no other being could imagine.

i. Impossible was passed fifth invention back, now you are beyond theory.

j. You sacrifice your time, energy and effort to improve all our existences.

k. You are greeted with "is this going to blow up?" instead of nice job, good work or this will make a difference.

l. You forget what recharge is.

m. You having a bad day means we wait outside med bay to know you are okay.

n. If you offline, we are all in trouble when the first tech breaks down.

o. And even though you might seem to be last, that does not mean you are not the best.

The inventor vented, rubbing at his ever-present battle mask, too overwhelmed to say anything. Ultra Magnus smiled at Arcee, his fingers thanking her in battle code gestures.

235. Do not mistake appearances of skill for true expertise. Humans use labels and we alt modes to describe our functions but that does not mean they are fact.

In the hangar, the assembled mechs and humans watched the sidewall, doubling as an on screen surface as the local news continued. "The four experienced divers are still missing at this hour. One body has been located but will not be named pending notification to family. Again, the search has been temporarily called off as tropics storm Hubris has over swept the area. But sadly, there remains not much hope for the missing divers." The station switched to commercials and a tech automatically put the sound on mute.

"Not much chance is there?" Master Sergeant Epps asked, leaning back in his chair on the communications platform.

"Listen," Major Will Lennox pointed up at the roof as the tropical storm winds howled, rattling and crashing against the structure. "Wave swells are incredible and their air tanks ran out early yesterday." He put both hands on his head as he hunched over the console. "They called the search off to switch to recovery. We've been asked to assist with damage control once the winds die down on the mainland."

"But the report said they were experienced," Cliffjumper stated, his red frame the smallest and lightest of the mechs there, being a mini bot.

"Experienced does not mean smart," Ratchet corrected sourly. His green and yellow colors were everywhere as paced back and forth. Silverbolt and the Aerialbots were hundreds of miles away, waiting to return. The island bound Transformers waited, ready to help with clean up as sensors interlinked to the external cameras and weather buoys, enjoying the wild side of earth's weather. "Experienced mechs offline all the time. Their species is no different than ours."

"Except they have no internal comms," Cliffjumper began

"No Prime link for when they offline to let every other bot know," Prowl added.

"No external sensors of x-ray, thermo graphic, radar, sonar, global positioning, and galaxy wide star positioning," Ratchet grumped, still pacing.

"No chassis mounted weapons," Ironhide rolled his cannons once.

"No subspace storage capability," Wheeljack noted with a raised hand.

"No holographic capability," Hound tapped his famous wrist emitters for emphasis.

"Short existence spans," Ultra Magnus held two fingers very close to demonstrate.

"And no spark," Arcee tapped her chest plates.

"Other than that, heck, we could be twin species," Epps joked, looking ruefully over at Will.

"For a planet that is 71 percent water, maybe we should have sea capability?" Wheeljack asked, his hand tapping on his crossed arm.

"I thought you guys and getting wet did not mix?" Will reminded.

"Submersion is detrimental to our kind over an extended period of time but a modification to a sea specific alt mode on an incoming bot would be possible," Wheeljack explained, his light bars flashing as he reviewed possibilities. "Ironhide landed in a swimming pool in his protoform upon arrival here. And there are other instances of us in water modes," the inventor added before quickly closing his lip plates as though keeping a secret.

Ratchet and Ironhide looked at Optimus and smirked as the Prime shifted his stance defensively, folding his arms across his simulated glass panel chest.

::Not one word:: Optimus warned, his cooling fans kicking up a notch to override his response to a memory he had tried hard to forget.

::Never crossed my processor:: Ratchet smirked, making a wavy up and down hand motion.

:: We saw you as a sea craft on Artinghle Four and you were good at until you hit that hidden sand bar at full speed:: Ironhide

::Highest I have seen your chassis soar yet:: Ratchet

::Highest your vocals were too:: Ironhide sent, ignoring his glare. ::Lighten up Prime. A laugh would do us good::

::So would a stay in med bay:: Optimus lowered his right arm, ratcheting his gun and pointing it Ironhide's direction.

::Good for whom?:: Ratchet

Story Arc – Hidden within a Spark (pt 1)

The meeting in Optimus office continued as Wheeljack explained the technical parts of the ship.

"The Ark is a Vanguard class Deep Space Interceptor. Five decks with accommodations for a crew of 300 Transformers. The original design required less than twenty to maintain and fly. Its environment is fully automated and self-sufficient, and ours will be land based. We will convert the Engine area into storage and human quarters as required."

Will's phone beeped as he slid it out then read it, swearing and focusing everyone there on him instantly. "Good news, the comet signals are confirmed. Bad news, the report is from yesterday, early morning Pacific Coast time."

Optimus did the instant calculation of the time difference, repressing a swear word of his own. "They are landing in the next joor?"

"Teams are prepping gear now, roll in twenty minutes. Best I can do," the human stated, half apologizing.

"Understood, we will be ready. Ironhide, Prowl, rest of my command team, be ready. Except Ratchet, I need you to stay here. First Aid will accompany us," Optimus ordered.

"Why First Aid? I'm Chief Medical Officer," he grumbled.

Prime switched to his internal comm. ::Events may not go smoothly. I want you where with Elita and the sparklings. The femmes will need you if anything happens to Ironhide or me::

Ratchet nodded. Sam looked at the medic, eyes blinking rapidly. He swayed, reaching out for Mikeala.

* You all right? Vital signs fluctuated * Bumblebee texted onto his phone even as the yellow scout leaned in close, bracing a hand against his back.

"Glyphs" he whispered, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm fine guys. Need a moment." The conversation was ignored amidst the sudden flurry of movement and activity.

"We have eight confirmed inbound comet trajectories, let's see who is joining the party," Will said.

To be continued…