Wandering Sparks

Chapter 3

Ahhh! This chapter is so late. Apologies. Here is your long awaited update. Enjoy.

By the time his captor came back, Optimus had uncurled himself from his position on the floor and Rodimus had woke up, confused but in a relatively good mood after noticing his Carrier looming over him. Smiling to reassure him, the red and blue mech had undone the tight bindings swaddling his Sparkling and was now watching Rodimus crawl on the pelts and carpets as he explored this new, unknown place with the sheer determination and curiosity only Sparklings could own. Optimus was watching him with a twinge of amusement and worry, knowing that if Rodimus moved too far from the mast, he wouldn't be able to catch him. The chain only extended so far, and Optimus hesitated to try and break the links. For one, they looked sturdy, and breaking them with his bare hands would be long and complicated, especially with Rodimus to keep an optic on.

Not only that but if his captor came back while he was busy freeing himself, he knew the silver-grey mech would be angry. And, well... he knew he was in a camp, so that meant more nomads outside, ready to catch him if he tried to make a run for it. Not to mention, they were in the Wastelands, and Optimus hadn't the smallest clue about how to navigate them. His best bet so far was to lay low and wait, while making sure his son remained unharmed.

He almost didn't notice the round opening of the dome-like structure being opened, but he certainly didn't miss the urging inflections in his captor's voice as he entered, dragging another mech, this one sand-colored, inside behind him. Optimus gave him a passing glance as he rushed to take Rodimus in his arms; he couldn't let him out of his reach or sight with two strangers present. The new mech seemed to be in a grumpy mood, judging by the way he answered the silver nomad as he rebooted his optics, probably to adapt them to the dim light in the dome; the sun outside seemed to be exceptionally bright. And if he had been grumpy before, the moment he laid his optics on Optimus, whose face was still dirtied by tears he hadn't bothered to wipe away, his temper fully exploded. "What has that rust-infected son of a glitching trash compactor done this time?!"

Optimus didn't know what shocked him the most: hearing someone swear so much in the presence of an impressionable Sparkling, or hearing a nomad swear in proper Cybertronian and not the strange dialect they used between them. Jaw falling open, he could only stare at the... not-very-polite mech. The newcomer pushed his captor away rudely and, in a few steps, he reached Optimus, crouching down before him and Rodimus with inquisitive optics. His Sparkling yelped and burrowed his face against his Carrier's chest, which in turn seemed to distraught the newcomer. "Hush, little one. I mean you no harm," he said in a more gentler tone. "Nor to your Carrier," he added as he looked up to look at Optimus in the optics.

Optimus' first realization was that the newcomer had blue optics, just like his own. His second was that, unlike what he had first thought, the newcomer wasn't sand-colored. What he had assumed was plating was revealed to be a... strip of cloth like some of the caravan's guards had worn -- they had called it a poncho, if he remembered right -- with a hood which the mech quickly pushed back, revealing his helm. His true colors were orange and white, and on his arms... "... I know those glyphs. It's... Medical Mechanic's old markings, isn't it? You... You're a medic?" he asked tentatively, and the red and white mech nodded slowly. "Who are you?" he whispered, taken aback.

What is a graduate of Medical Mechanic doing with a bunch of barbarians? Sure, the markings were old, and they seemed to be of an old model no longer in use, but they clearly identify him as a medic. At the same time, the relief he felt at meeting someone from the civilized part of Cybertron, someone whom he could actually communicate with, was tempered by the place where he was meeting him at. If he was here, unrestrained, then it must meant he was yet another kidnapper. Was he truly safe?