Author's notes: I know, another sparkling fic. Yes, they are popular and dozens of them are out there in one form or another. Common theme is having a sparkling or two so what happens if somehow a lot of sparklings were all being created about the same time ?

Updates will be random so please add story alert if you want to keep up on the latest. I type Elita1 as only 'Elita' since I have never found an Elita2 or Elita3 and the number on the end is harder to type and read. I prefer canon parings but not always and G1 more than movie verse.

On breeding, I referenced the movie verse with the Allspark being transferable energy, the G1 cartoon where Wheeljack made the new bodies for the Dinobots to inhabit, and The Dreamwave More than Meets the Eye where the protoform or shell is made then infused with a spark to become a living Transformer. On Cybertron, the protoform shells are made then stored in stasis pods. On earth, they are not expecting more so there are no stasis pods. And why would a mechanical race have gel? That scene in Revenge of the Fallen never made sense. Liquid on metal? Where would they get all that fluids on a metal world? One of fifty weird things in that movie.

Easiest is the new protoform is built, the spark added and it becomes a working mech or femme. The Matrix is not required per official Transformer history and there is no detailing on HOW they uhm, mate. I take a guess that they mix energy begin mechanical and not the physical fluid exchanging, (sex) metal building and staying inside the femme (pregnancy) pattern that is way too human. Makes no sense for a mechanical race once the protoform is activated. The optics turn on and bingo, new life form to raise.

There are family units as the G1 Wheelie (not movie verse truck with that name) crashed with "his parents" and the twins Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are "brothers." In a G1 episode, Prime refers to Alpha Trion as his "creator" and in movie verse, the ancient Primes refer to Optimus as "their last descendant" and the Fallen called the others "his brothers."

They have a way of reproducing more energy than physical, have families and infuse a protoform with a spark. All of the above is recorded in tf wiki under the term "reproduction" and in the cartoons, Dreamwave comic, and movie verse. There are other ways but seem a little weird or too dated in the tech world.

This is set after Transformers 2 movie verse Revenge of the Fallen. Rating T is for Cybertron swearing and actions between couples but NO SLASH, NO SMUT OR SLEAZE. Kids read these and I am NOT adding to their moral corruption. I do not own Transformers in any shape, size or form, hence I have a day job that pays not a lot of anything. Onward to what can be.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

In the Autobot medbay on earth, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet contemplated the pink and white armored femme sitting on the med bay berth then verified the readings on his hand scanner again. Blue optics spun tighter then brightened. A rare smile tweaked across his lip plates before his professional manner reasserted itself.

"Those spark surges are normal at this point. However, Elita have you discussed the possibility of a sparkling with Prime?"

"Sparkling? With him? Mister I am the last Prime and have a duty to my troops now that the Allspark is gone and all that? I know he was willing to sacrifice himself for the Allspark destruction." She shuttered her optics, feeling the faintest echo of the pain from discovering he had been willing to offline to prevent Megatron from capturing it. She shuddered emotionally at the thought of losing him. "We discussed it thousands of years ago," she vented softly, wanting to keep their private conversations private. "Why? Is my spark flaring out?" Her blue optics stared directly into his multi-layered ones.

"Not exactly. Three questions first." The green and yellow medic held up his digits, counting them off. "Did you spark with him three days ago? Are your femme protocols up to date? Do you have a name picked out for a little mech?"

'Why would he ask me....' her processors stopped as the meaning behind the questions reached the main programs. Her arms tightened instinctively across her armored chest.

The medic monitored her increased spark pulse and energon flow as well as the sudden release of her jaw gears. "Yes, you're spark carrying. By this time tomorrow, you will have a little mech sparkling. You want to tell Optimus or shall I?"

"You tell him," she vented rapidly, feeling overwhelmed. "He's on a mission. Not sure when his team will return." Ratchet gently braced her upper chassis, talking to calm her.

"Moonracer and Arcee can help. The procedure is easy and you do not even need me. Femmes sparked for a millennia on Cybertron, here is no different. We can make the shell with materials on hand," he began running through what to expect.

Optimus and his strike team returned that night aboard the Aerialbot Silverbolt, in his Hercules jet form. They rolled out of his cargo area in their alt modes, dragging two offlined Decepticon drones with them. Once clear of the human soldiers walking down the ramp, they transformed into their bi-pedal modes, weapons hid in subspace.

"Slaggin' 'Cons!" Ironhide grumbled, his black armor barely reflecting the light. "Send drones out and not their lazy chassis. What next? Automated guns to give us target practice?"

"Easy old friend. We lost no one today. Be thankful to Primus for that." Optimus placed one metal hand on his shoulder armor.

"Primus huh?" Ratchet interrupted, smirking. "Better talk to him. Your life is about to get more complicated Optimus."

"More inbound Autobots?" The tall red and blue-flamed mech guessed, hoping more of those left behind during the Allspark search were online and answering his call to the stars.

"In a manner of speaking. Though I understand a lot of training, patience and soft cuddling may be required," the medic hinted.

"Not another Skids and Mudflap combo!" Ironhide groaned, his black armored hands pretending to strangle something. "Took me an orn to teach them how to shoot straight!"

"Elita is carrying a spark," the medic announced then chuckled at the sudden dead silence. Every mech and human soldier stopped, turning to look at their leader. His jaw dropped and optics dimmed as the statement registered.

"Spark as in?" He repeated faintly, swaying on his multiple feet pads.

"You and she are spark mates and were together three nights ago resulting in her carrying a spark. Want to know mech or femme?" Ratchet asked.

The sudden cheering drowned out any answer he would have given. The Autobots gathered around Optimus chirping and clicking excitedly in their native language as the humans began a betting pool on which gender. The human females complained four days of spark carrying was so not fair. The bots pointed out they had children less often and they took thousands of years to reach full maturity. Which would they rather put up with?

At the appointed time, Optimus joined Elita and the other femmes in med bay. "Are you ready my love?" he asked, his silver armored hands wrapped tightly around one of hers.

"Little late to ask isn't it?" she teased back, relaxed but nervous as she reclined on the medical berth. On command, her chest plates opened. The light of her crystal pure spark nearly overshadowed the small blue spark to the side. Ratchet, optics spinning in full, reached in with a set of transfer tongs, gently surrounding the energy essence. He pulled back, freeing it with the faintest zap noise before lowering it gently into the waiting sparkling shell. Almost immediately, it pulsed and filled out the square core, the little chest plates closing with a faint transforming sound. Then tiny soft blue optics brightening for the first time was met with gasps of wonder and delight from the assembled bots.

"A perfect moment," Ratchet confided to Moonracer later as they prepared for recharge in their private quarters. "No weakness to the spark strength or flaring on unstable parameters. He took to the frame mechanics we built and I almost offlined with happiness."

Two weeks later the mech sparkling had every bot and human under his control or so it seemed to Ironhide. "I don't remember Bumblebee getting this much attention. That mech of theirs is going to be a pit spoiled handful as a youngling," he confided to his mate Chromia.

"Handful is right," she giggled, white lip plates curving into a smile. She watched him pace around their room as she leaned back against their double wide recharge berth before continuing. "When I was entering med bay this morning, Elita was just leaving. She is spark carrying again."

"Two?" The old warrior said, halting in shock. "That old Prime! When did he find the time? Training new arrivals, hit and run Decepticon attacks all over the world and one sparkling already." Abruptly he turned, grabbing her blue chassis, pulling her close. They touched their foreheads together, sparks already beginning to beat faster when he stopped. "Wait, why were you in med bay? Another weapon upgrade? Could have asked me," he grumbled.

"Upgrade yes, weapons no." She teased then held one of his black armored hands to her blue armored chest plates. "I have something to tell you."

"YYEEHHHHHHHHH!"

Half the doors in the Autobot private quarters sprung open at the yell. Weapons were charged, battle computers onlined as their owners looked for the cause of the commotion.

"I'm going to have a sparkling!" Ironhide yelled, running up and down the hallway, rolling his cannons.

Chromia stood in their doorway, rubbing her head plate in exasperation. "So much for announcing it tomorrow at the weekly review. And I am having the sparkling. You get to watch."

"Be glad he is taking it well." Optimus regal baritone startled her. She craned her neck up, realizing he had snuck up and was watching everyone else react. Elita's pink and white form peeked out and around from behind him.

"Is it safe?" she teased.

"Are cannons ever safe? But I think together we can handle one sparkling," she teased back, stressing the word one.

"The second was an accident," the femme commander defended.

"Speak for yourself. I knew what I wanted and succeeded," Optimus winked one optic at her, turning and wrapping his massive blue armored arms around his mate.

"Did anyone ask me what I wanted?" A cranky mech's voice interrupted them all. Ratchet stood in the hallway, wrenches in hand. "No, they spark and expect me to make sparkling shells in between fixing your thick afts too slow to dodge 'Con fire. You femmes, back to recharge. And keep up on the energon. You mechs," he smiled without amusement, hefting the wrenches. "I will deal with later. For now, KEEP IT DOWN!"

The hallway cleared super fast. Ratchet vented softly, returning to his quarters.

Two days later, Elita and her entourage were in med bay, to welcome a little femme. One earth day later, Ironhide held his new femme and felt the vorns of pain and death fade from his processor when her tiny blue optics focused on him, her small body nuzzling against his chest plates.

"That one is going to be a handful," the medic quoted merrily to Chromia as her chest plates closed, resealing. She rolled her optics, ignoring his attempt at humor and reached for her sparkling.

"She can be whatever she wants," Chromia began, her lip plates brushing across the sparkling's helm and air vents in a feather light kiss of welcome.

"And she is what we wanted," Ironhide finished, while his optics watched her slip into her first recharge. Ratchet waved the other femmes out into the hallway where the other Autobots waited for his report.

"Fully functional and fiery. However, the next mech who sparks unplanned gets a wrench to the head and better tell me over an open comm and not in weapons range," he threatened, grumbling about attending medic school to be a spark catcher.

A human month passed without incident, the new families adjusting to the routines, each sparkling spoiled by Transformer and human both. Ratchet still grumbled, but meet with Wheeljack several times, discussing upgrades and modifications for the next set of sparkling bodies. "As a precaution," he told the civilian inventor. They prepared two of each, femme and mech and stored them in med bay under the center treating berth. The top piece slid back into place, hiding its precious contents when the internal medical comm activated.

::Ratchet, I need you for an on-site verification:: First Aid

::Verification? Your systems not able to figure it out? Try upgrading your medical programs more often:: Ratchet snipped, secretly pleased he was showing initiative. His assistant had sufficient medical training but getting him out into the field had proven to be a task in itself. 'Compassionate but over cautious,' his profile read.

::More a who than a what I think. Please come to these coordinates:: First Aid sent the data packet of information.

"Primus in a pit!" Ratchet swore, lifting a yellow green armored hand to cover his optics. He moved, seeing Wheeljack staring at him. His sidebars were reddish orange with caution and worry. "Another femme sparked. First Aid is attending her now. Be back shortly." He stomped out of med bay and over to the Autobot's personal quarters. The younger medic waited outside the door, gesturing him forward. It should have occurred to the Chief Medical Officer why a femme would call for his assistant first, or which quarters he stomped into but did not.

His processing slid to a halt at the beaming green and white femme sharpshooter sitting on the recharge berth.

"Moonracer?" He blinked, frozen mid-stomp.

"Ready to train another assistant?" She patted her chest plates. The crash to the floor brought First Aid running in. His boss was in stasis lock on the floor, optics open wide while his femme was rolling on the berth, laughing.

To be continued…

Next: More and more sparklings and the mystery why