Author's Note: I was asked for another story featuring my Seeker OC Synergy, and this is what I came up with. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers, and I do not make any money with this.

Word of Command

xxx

Megatron threw a disgruntled look at the number glyphs on his HUD. A status report from his aerial staff wasn't supposed to take longer than two breems at most. And yet here they were, exceeding their scheduled timeline by the third klik already.

He politely abstained from drumming his fingers on the table and forced his attention back on Dirge's discourse.

"That's why I recommend that we expand -"

The damned sparkling wailed again.

It wasn't a particularly loud sound, but with it, the newspark pulsed a surprisingly strong frequency through his tiny field, and this specific oscillation seemed to be capable of turning every adult mecha in the immediate vicinity into a useless idiot. Naturally, Skywarp was the first victim.

"Aw, sweetie," the Seeker cooed, rocking the little pest in his arms. "'S okay; we're almost done."

From the other side of the table came a hiss disturbingly similar to that of an Earth serpent. "Slagging Pit, Skywarp," Starscream snapped. "Get that damned thing to shut up!"

"I'm trying," Skywarp shot back as he shifted the wriggling newspark into a different position. "Dunno what's wrong with him today."

"I still say he's underfueled," Ramjet huffed from behind his crossed arms. "Have you checked his energy levels?"

"Or perhaps he kinked a wire or something," Thrust offered helpfully.

Thundercracker shook his head. He leaned close to his trine mate and gently cupped the sparkling's head in his palm. "No," he said. "He had his energon right before we came here. And Scrapper says he's in perfect working order."

Megatron offlined his optics, allowing himself a brief respite. He was beginning to suspect that he had committed a serious tactical error when he'd allowed Skywarp to bring the foundling on board. Yes, alright, he had told the Seeker that the sparkling was to be his sole responsibility, and that he would personally see to Skywarp's reformatting should he dare to waste other crew members' precious time by handing the little pest off to anyone. But slag and smelt him, how could he have known that for once in his miserable existence Skywarp would do exactly as ordered?

He switched his optics back on at the sound of several data pads clattering across the table when his Air Commander banged his fist down onto said table's top.

"Shut it!" Starscream hissed. "All of you! I want to get this farce of a meeting over with before my aft rusts to the slagging chair!"

The sparkling didn't waste energy on whimpering this time. He went with full-fledged screaming instead.

"Aw, c'mon, Syn," Skywarp pleaded, shortening the newspark's already ridiculous designation to an even more ridiculous nickname. "It's not that bad!" He struggled to hold the little one closer to his chest plates, probably in an attempt to muffle the crying, but the only thing that accomplished was that Synergy screamed even louder and started squirming so hard Thundercracker had to reach over to support him.

Megatron became aware all of a sudden that he had risen from his chair. When and why exactly he had made that movement remained a mystery to him, but he figured that since he was standing already, he might as well be doing something.

"For frag's sake," he growled, holding one hand out at Skywarp. "Give him here." And when the puzzled Seeker didn't react immediately, he leaned across the table, grabbed the wriggling newspark by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up so the little pest dangled right in front of his faceplates.

"You," he said, as if talking to an unruly cadet. "Shut up. Now."

And the crying ceased.

From one moment to the next, the room became almost eerily silent, the only remaining sound being the soft hiccupping of the sparkling's little vocalizer. Suspended in the air as he was, he still did his best to lift his head, searching for the source of the new voice. Tiny purple optics clicked and whirred diligently until they found focus. Synergy gazed at Megatron with his tiny mouth agape, and Megatron gazed back.

"Very good," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Now. Be quiet. This is a war council."

"Guh," Synergy said.

It hit Megatron that, with the mission accomplished, he now sorely lacked a strategy for an ordered retreat. He glanced at his soldiers, who were all staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. Skywarp and Thundercracker had already proven that they couldn't handle the bitlet. Handing him off to Starscream, while promising a certain amusement, would not facilitate his goal of bringing this slagging meeting to an end. Giving him to one of the Coneheads was a legitimate way to respark the old rivalries between the trines.

Synergy began to kick his legs and to grasp the air with his little fists, voicing an urgent-sounding coo. He scrunched up his faceplates, and Megatron felt his spark clench in apprehension. Primus help him, what should he do?

A memory file surfaced from somewhere deep down in his processor, recorded a lifetime ago and archived for almost equally as long, but now it settled firmly in his cache and refused to budge.

Without further ado, he draped the newspark across his lower arm so that Synergy's arms and legs were dangling on either side while his hand could support the bitlet's head. He had no idea what this position did for a sparkling, or if it did anything at all, but this was what he'd seen fellow miners do when they'd cared for their young ones, on long evenings in front of the workers' barracks...

At first, Synergy fussed a bit, probably not sure what to make of the new situation, but then he seemed to realize that he was now more free in his movements than he'd been before. Tiny hydraulics whirred audibly when he bobbed his little head up and down, eager to get a good look at all the other mechanisms in the room.

Megatron sank back into his chair, automatically bringing his arm close to his chassis so the bitlet wouldn't slide off. It was of course not relief he felt, and he stared hard at each of his soldiers, daring them to tell him otherwise, before he leveled his gaze at Dirge.

"Continue," he ordered.

All six flyers looked is if they were just awakening from a bad recharge flux. "Uh... yeah," Dirge stammered. "I mean... yes, sir. Of course."

It was almost amusing, Megatron thought, how they were all torn between looking at their data pads and sneaking glances at him and the newspark. Skywarp was staring openly, barely contained curiosity swirling in his field, and it took a sharp elbowing, courtesy of his trine mate, to bring him back into line.

A strange warmth suddenly enveloped his thumb. Alarmed, Megatron looked down - only to see that Synergy's head had sunk down to rest onto his palm. The sparkling's optics were beginning to dim, and his lips had latched onto the digit closest to his face, mouthing softly while his small engine settled into a lazy purr. His energy field pressed itself against Megatron's, questing.

He would be chewed, swallowed, and spit out again by Unicron himself before he did anything that might encourage the little Pit-spawn. On the other hand, a new crying fit had to be avoided. So Megatron stoically left his thumb were it was and kept his field as neutral as possible, not responding, but not outright rejecting, either.

And it seemed to be enough, for barely a klik later, Synergy had drifted off into recharge. His field lay snuggled up against Megatron's, warm and buzzing gently in obvious content. It was... not an unpleasant sensation.

Finally, what felt like ages later, Dirge had reached the end of his report. His digit still in the damned sparkling's mouth, Megatron was dead set on dropping the cursed thing into the first available pair of arms he came across. He stood, pushing his chair back, which was usually the unspoken order to his soldiers to do likewise and to return to their respective posts.

Except this time they didn't. Of course they didn't, and Megatron wondered idly if punching that slag-sucking grin off his Second's faceplates might disturb Synergy's recharge.

"Sir..." Thundercracker took up hesitantly. "If I may ask -"

"How'd you do that, boss?" Skywarp blurted, pointing at the resting newspark almost accusingly. "Quietest he's been ever since we took him in."

"Our glorious lord is clearly a mech of many talents, Skywarp," Starscream said in honeyed tones, "and he does not deign to share all of them with the common folk."

Synergy gave an unhappy squawk as Megatron pulled him off his thumb and unceremoniously deposited him in his Air Commander's arms. "You will make an appointment with Soundwave," he ordered.

The look on the Seeker's faceplates changed from smug to startled to downright horrified with worrisome speed even as he instinctively grabbed hold of the sparkling. "Sir?"

"Your trine is obviously not able to take proper care of a newspark. Soundwave will teach them whatever is necessary, and you and he will both personally report to me on the progress of that schooling. Do I make myself clear?"

Starscream's vocalizer reset audibly, his mouth moved, but no words came out.

"Dismissed," Megatron said gently.

For a moment, he was convinced that his Second would either jump or shoot him - or probably both, given the way the Seeker's optics were flashing. Synergy didn't seem very happy with the situation either, and had returned to making his discontentment clear and audible.

With an ill-foreboding glare at his trine mates, Starscream saluted so brusquely it rattled his plating. Then he turned on his heel and rushed out of the room, sparkling in arm and wings and head held high like a diva leaving the stage. Skywarp and Thundercracker hastened to follow, while Dirge and his companions made a point of slinking off into the opposite direction as soon as the elite trine had cleared the door.

Megatron allowed himself a moment to pull a deep, slow draught of air into his ventilation system. Why again had he sanctioned the presence of a newspark on his base? Or of Seekers in general, for that matter?

A message alert popped up on his HUD, a ping from the Nemesis' main computer. "What is it?" he growled.

'Commander,' the female-sounding voice answered over comm. 'Suitable human paraphrase found for your situation.'

"Did you, now?"

'Positive.'

"Well?"

'English term in use: Maternity blues.'

Slamming the channel shut, Megatron found himself doing a fairly good imitation of that diva thing Starscream was so fond of. He'd just decided that a joor or two on the shooting range would do him some good. Because with just a bit of luck, he would get the chance to shoot a something with wings.

xxx

*Fin*

Author's request: After spending so much time with them, I am dying to see a picture of Megatron with little Synergy in his arms! I have nothing to offer in return but a cyber-cookie and my eternal gratitude, but if there are artists out there who feel like giving it a try, please do so! In my head cannon, Synergy is black and green, with a green cockpit and purple optics, but if you'd like to follow your own imagination, that's fine, too ;-)