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“Rock, atmosphere, surface liquid samples collected,” Brainstorm announced cheerfully as he fired up the space shuttle’s engines. “Percy, sit tight—”
“We’re taking off!”
He shoved the control lever all the way forward. The most well-equipped small shuttle in the Lost Light’s hangar roared to life, and Perceptor was pressed back into the co-pilot’s seat by inertia, already regretting agreeing so readily to Brainstorm’s insistence that “spaceships should obviously be flown by flying frames.”
This was a hastily planned research mission. Rather than alien exploration, it was more accurately the chief science officer escaping paperwork and meetings with his lab partner before the Lost Light’s quantum jump—yet another elopement, according to a certain red-painted captain. The organic planet was not far from their current position. On a cosmic scale, it was still young, with no intelligent life yet evolved, so there were no diplomatic concerns. Evolution had stalled at the small-mammal stage, surface elements were abundant, and, by all accounts, it was an ideal sampling world. The only downside was that lab instruments had predicted an impending stellar storm two cycles ahead; otherwise, Brainstorm would have insisted on staying a few more days.
The shuttle gradually accelerated out of the planet’s gravity well, and the cabin’s gravity field returned to normal. Perceptor rose from his seat and began carefully labeling and organizing the samples Brainstorm had messily piled in the cargo bay. Suddenly, extra weight appeared on his lens barrel—this wasn’t Brainstorm’s first attempt to startle him.
Perceptor didn’t turn around. “I know it’s you. This isn’t amusing.”
To his surprise, Brainstorm’s voice came from far away in the cockpit. “What? Percy, do you need help? I can’t hear you very well—”
Perceptor spun around sharply and saw a tiny carbon-based flying unit—absolutely, definitely not supposed to be here—apparently climbing down from the shelves and landing on his lens barrel.
“Ah.”
Perceptor didn’t need to guess. Brainstorm must have forgotten to close the hatch while loading samples, allowing the juvenile to slip inside.
“Ah!” Brainstorm rushed in, letting out the distinctive scream Cybertronians make when they come into close contact with organic life. It took him exactly one astrosecond to realize his mistake. If they turned back to release it now, they wouldn’t make it back to the Lost Light before the stellar storm. And if they quietly tossed the organic into space…
“That’s not a good idea,” Perceptor said, as if reading his mind. “We can’t estimate how this stellar storm will affect that organic planet. This species could become endangered. The one aboard our ship may be their people’s only hope.” His tone was grave.
“Alright, Percy, if you say so.” Brainstorm raised his hands in surrender, his wings drooping slightly. To him, the seriousness was probably only about half of what Perceptor described—Perceptor was clearly sticking to his meticulous principles again.
When the shuttle docked in the Lost Light’s hangar, one of the joint captains was already there with arms crossed. Rodimus was still annoyed that the two scientists had left him alone in a meeting with Ultra Magnus, confirming all 355 safety regulations had been fulfilled before the quantum jump. Megatron, at times like this, readily admitted he was only here to provide administrative support—the “real” captain was Rodimus. And he took Ravage with him to voluntarily stand bridge duty.
“Captain! We have a new report,” Brainstorm snapped into an exaggerated salute. The red-and-yellow captain visibly brightened at the title. “Due to various reasons…” He pointed at Perceptor’s arms. “The Lost Light now has a new crew member!”
Rodimus stared wide-eyed at the carbon-based juvenile. The juvenile stared back. In this staring contest, the red-orange race car lost first.
“Cool,” he said.
And just like that, the carbon-based flying unit juvenile became the Lost Light’s newest crew member, naturally placed under the supervision of the two scientists. Three breems later, Ultra Magnus finally discovered this and pinched the bridge of his nose, changing the crew record from “permanent” to “temporary,” and announcing that once they refueled at an interstellar port, the juvenile would be returned home.
Cybertronian scientists seemed to have a unique naming convention. The new crew member resembled an Earth bird, with a 99.99% genetic match, but was still called a carbon-based flying unit. Since it was still growing and incapable of flight, the accurate term was carbon-based flying unit juvenile.
“Oh—what a lovely creature. Primus bless you,” Drift said kindly as he passed by. “By the way, what’s your name?”
The two scientists exchanged looks.
“I’m going to call it CFU-1,” Brainstorm announced proudly.
“What kind of name is that?” Rodimus protested, apparently spawning outside the conference room yet again.
“Carbon-based Flying Unit,” Perceptor explained. “Since it’s the first we’ve encountered, it’s number one.”
“You two are truly made for each other,” Drift sighed emotionally. “Primus bless your perfectly matched sparks…”
Before he could launch into further praise and blessings for the juvenile, the Lost Light’s captain, chief science officer, and the chief science officer’s lab partner had all made quick excuses and slipped away. Drift could only shake his head. “How does Ratty manage to sit through this every time?”
“It still can’t fly.”
Two days later, Perceptor suddenly looked up from his workbench and stated this out of nowhere.
“CFU-1?” Brainstorm, hanging upside down from the ceiling, struggled to turn toward him. “Uh… should it be able to fly?”
The microscope shrugged. “As far as I know, carbon-based organisms learn in a gradual process.”
“Are you implying I could build a shotgun that fires data packets, letting whatever it hits temporarily acquire knowledge and skills?” Brainstorm flipped down excitedly.
“Unfortunately,” Perceptor said helplessly, “Ultra Magnus has already banned you from developing any firearms for the next two major cycles.”
“…Then what do we do?”
“You are a flying frame.”
“What, Percy, are you saying I should teach the juvenile how to fly? I feel like this idea might not be very—”
But Perceptor looked at him seriously and nodded firmly.
“…Alright. When do we go?”
Thus, the Lost Light’s crew was astonished to see the two reclusive scientists appear on the bridge. Only then did they realize they had absolutely no experience interacting with or educating sparklings.
“Um…” Perceptor cradled the juvenile in his arms. “Let’s start by demonstrating how you take off?” He felt like he hadn’t used such an uncertain tone in a million years.
“Let me think—” Brainstorm transformed at half his usual speed.
“Flaps up to takeoff position, ignite engines to appropriate RPM, release brakes, taxi, increase angle of attack, and take off AHHHHHHHHHHHH—”
“I don’t think CFU-1 has any of the components you mentioned,” Perceptor said resignedly, shielding the juvenile from the jet wash as Brainstorm shot off the bridge and got wedged into the Lost Light’s corridor.
Megatron poked his head out of the captain’s quarters, frowning. “What’s going on?”
“Educational experiment,” the chief science officer replied firmly, as if nothing had happened. He got up from the floor, briefly greeted the cyan jet being aggressively hammered by Ratchet with a wrench, and carried the juvenile back to the lab.
“Do you need me to ask Ultra Magnus to explain, again, why flying is prohibited in the corridors?” Ratchet snapped.
“It was an a, accident,” Brainstorm argued, finally freed from alt-mode, pulling his wings in.
“It’d better be,” Ratchet shot him a glare. “Anything hurt?”
Brainstorm shook his head rapidly and fled medical wrath, returning to the lab at top speed.
“Percy, I hate to say this, but I think your approach was wrong from the start,” the cyan jet said, panting. “Cybertronian flying ability comes naturally with our spark. As Drift says, it’s a gift from Primus—not a skill that can be taught.”
Perceptor nodded thoughtfully. “Then perhaps we should consult an expert familiar with carbon-based life and flying?”
“The Seekers who went to Earth?”
An awkward silence spread through the room.
“I’m joking,” Brainstorm added quickly. “I mean—our exploration reports to Rodimus probably include footage of those flying units. We could use a computer to study their behavior and then—boom!” He paused dramatically. “A holographic AI projection designed specifically for CFU-1!”
“A brilliant idea,” Perceptor smiled approvingly.
Brainstorm practically burst out the door, transforming and taking off, his engine roar drowning out the whine of his cooling fans.
“I’ve said it a hundred times—no flying in the corridors!” someone shouted.
“Well, look who’s here,” Swerve greeted him, patting the bar. “Our shut-in finally came out! What’ll you have?”
“First, I’m here to find Rodimus,” Brainstorm scanned the bar. “Second—what’s a shut-in?” he asked, confused.
“Earth slang. Don’t worry about it.” Swerve waved him off. “What do you need our dear captain for?”
Brainstorm spread his hands. “Long story. It’s about sparkling-level education. Percy and I are teaching it how to fly.”
A chorus of jaws hit the floor.
“Perceptor!?” Swerve shrieked.
“A juvenile!?” Ratchet emitted a piercing medic screech. “How was it created without supervision?”
“Flying needs to be taught?” Whirl scoffed.
“Oh, so it’s an education issue for the new crew member.” Rodimus popped up from nowhere and slung an arm around Brainstorm’s shoulder, steering him out. “I actually haven’t read your report yet,” he admitted shamelessly. “Let’s grab it from my office.”
After leaving the lab, Perceptor noticed every crew member, without exception, giving him affectionate looks—even First Aid behind goggles and a mask.
“Is there something I can help with?” Perceptor greeted him uncertainly.
First Aid could barely contain his excitement. “First, congratulations! Second, what’s your sparkling's name? And could you tell us how you got together? Love at first sight or feelings over time?”
“CFU-1. Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not with anyone now.”
“What kind of name is that? And wait—what do you mean you’re not with anyone—”
—Meanwhile, Brainstorm, happily retrieving the target footage in the captain’s office, had no idea that in the minds of the entire ship, he was now a secretly married aircraft who had nearly rammed himself into a wall in despair because his sparkling couldn’t fly.
In any case, with Perceptor and the two reliable administrators stepping in, the misunderstanding was finally resolved. After resupplying, the Lost Light jumped back to the carbon-based planet. The stellar storm had passed, and the surface ecosystem was slowly recovering. The two scientists once again piloted the shuttle, returning the juvenile to the rainforest near their previous landing site. For the first time, it flew into the sky without any assistance.
“I think I’m starting to miss CFU-1,” Brainstorm said sadly on the return trip, sitting in the co-pilot seat.
“So do I,” Perceptor replied, focused on flying, a familiar curve tugging at his lips. He leaned forward and tossed a small box from the storage compartment. “Open it.”
Brainstorm hesitantly opened the box and yelped—
A lifelike hologram sprang out, flapping its wings and landing on the jet’s wingtip.
“Primus, I love you, Percy!”
Only then did Brainstorm realize what he’d said. He slapped a hand over his faceplate as coolant streamed down. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant—this love is platonic—well, not entirely—”
“I hope he’s a flying frame,” Perceptor interrupted, still looking ahead.
“Who?” Brainstorm stopped rambling, confused.
“Our sparkling.”
“Huh?”
Brainstorm’s processor disassembled Perceptor’s words, annotated each one, and attempted to reassemble them—only to encounter the first system crash of its life.
Perceptor finally turned and winked at him, then immediately engaged atmospheric-break acceleration. Brainstorm was slammed back into his seat by inertia, and his light-speed processor finally, gloriously, crashed.