This chapter has now been rewritten to fit in with my fan continuity called Absolution. To find out more about the continuity, the characters involved in the series and the stories that make up its lore, please refer to the forum I set up, the link to it is located on my profile page.

Originally inspired by the story "Unlikely Alliance" by FromHakaryou. If you haven't read it, do it. You won't regret it.

A young red mech stood in front of the medical centre entrance for what seemed like cycles. Normally, he would be more than willing to walk right in and start up a conversation with one of the novice medics First Aid or Hoist, or even the head physician Ratchet. In a normal circumstance he had absolutely no reason not to enter the medical centre for any reason. His designation is Blaster, the Voice of all autobots. He prided himself on being able to talk about anything and everything.

So, then... why did he hesitate?

For the past two vorns, Blaster had begun to feel a strange sensation coming from his spark chamber. It put unnecessary pressure on his chassis and made him feel quite uncomfortable. Nothing appeared on his heads-up display and his self-scans detected no abnormalities, so Blaster just wrote it off as some minor glitch that would eventually sort itself out. Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. After another vorn passed, the pressure soon became almost unbearable and he found himself silently praying to Primus that it wasn't a virus, or worse.

After letting some air out of his vents, Blaster finally opened the door and entered the medical centre. He was almost immediately greeted with smiles from First Aid and Hoist, who were just hanging out in the lobby with seemingly nothing else better to do. Just a few kliks later, Ratchet entered the room with a data pad in hand. A smile forming on his face plates when he saw the young mech. "Good day, Blaster. What can I do for you?"

"Well, Doc," Blaster began, pausing slightly. "I think I... may be sick."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge, then handed the data pad to Hoist before motioning for Blaster to follow. "Better come this way then." The young mech obeyed and followed the elder medic down the hall to an empty examination room. Ratchet pointed to the table in the middle of the room and closed the door behind them. He turned to Blaster and crossed his arms. "I sincerely hope this isn't some joke, Blaster. I would rather not waste my time with something that can be handled by yourself. I've had enough of those to last me a lifetime."

"Trust me Doc, it isn't simple." Blaster tapped his fingers nervously. "I've done everything I can think of to figure it out. It's nothin' minor, I can assure you."

"What makes you say that?"

"Uh, well... See, I've been havin' a strange feelin' in my spark chamber for a while. Whatever it is, it's been puttin' a lot of pressure on my chassis. I can't even fall into recharge like normal. It's becoming too much. I... just wanted to make sure its not a virus, ya know?"

The elder mech sighed. "Only one way to find out then."

The red and white mech picked up a scanning device from the table next to him and stood in front of the red mech. A soft blue beam of light moved up and down over Blaster's body several times before Ratchet paused to read the data. He raised an optic ridge, scanned Blaster's chest area a few times, then paused again to read the data. He gave a small sigh as he transferred the information to a spare data pad.

"Is... is there somethin' wrong, Doc?"

Ratchet skimmed over the data once more before turning his attention back to the young mech. "Not wrong necessarily. Just... different." Blaster's face plates contorted into a look of confusion. Ratchet sighed again. "You're going to be fine, Blaster. I can assure you that much." The medic placed his data pad down. "Are you at all familiar with the concept of spark mutation?"

"Spark mutation?" Blaster repeated. "Don't think so."

Ratchet nodded. "Although rare, throughout our long history there have been some sparks that have developed unusual qualities. You see, under normal circumstances, a spark serves no other purpose than to simply give us life. Depending on how long one lives, a spark can also change colour and even become imprinted with a record of our memories."

Blaster's optics went wide. "That's pretty cool. Didn't know sparks were capable of that."

"Most do not," the medic said in reply. "Those few sparks that have unique traits is not something a mech is created with. Rather, it is developed over time. I am certain that there have been quite a few mechs through history that never knew they had a mutation."

"Then how would ya find if ya had a mutation?"

"Intuition usually. From what I researched during my time at Crystal City's medical school, it is those who have listened to their intuition and acted on it that are the reason why we know anything about spark mutations."

"So... what kind of mutations are there?"

"Well, there is still a lot we do not know, but I can give you an example. There are records of a select few mechs that have developed immortal sparks. A spark that persists, even after the entire protoform and system itself has been completely deteriorated or destroyed, without the need to life support. Such rare few mechs have lived for a very long time, some since the beginning of our history. You just wouldn't know by looking at them, since in some cases they have completely new chassis and a few have even changed their designation."

Blaster's optics grew even wider, if such a thing were possible. "So, a mutation is good?"

"All mutations discovered thus far are good, yes."

By now nearly all anxiety Blaster was having had faded. A smile now tugged at his mouth plates. "That's awesome, Doc. That means I have a mutation then."

"You are correct."

"What kind?"

"Splitspark."

Blaster froze, the smile instantly fading from his face. "Split-what?"

Ratchet sighed. "Splitspark, Blaster. It means your spark can split itself."

The red mech went silent. Ratchet continued. "In summary, you are able to create what are called sparklings, or infant sparks. That is why you feel pressure on your chassis. Your spark is swelling in preparation for the split."

"I... I thought sparks could only could only be created from the Well of All Sparks."

"Usually, yes." The medic briefly paused. "Splitspark is the rarest of all known spark mutations, so there is very little information to go on. From what we do know, the condition appears to share similarities with the reproductive gestation periods of many organic species."

Blaster frowned. "So... another spark is growing within my own... preparing ta split off?"

"That statement isn't accurate. There isn't a spark growing within your own," the medic corrected. "For someone who is a Splitspark, their sparks produce more energy and at a faster rate than the average autobot. What the spark does then, since it can only handle so much energy at a time, is attempt to get rid of the excess energy by removing a piece of itself. The result is a new young spark."

"Does it last long? The condition I mean."

"The duration of the condition varies depending on the subject. The younger the mech, the longer the condition lasts. Mechs who gain it later in life only tend to experience a couple of splits before their spark returns to normal."

Blaster raised an optic ridge. "A couple? How many are possible?"

"I honestly can't say. It is possible there is no limit. I suppose it all depends on how much the spark can handle."

The younger mech sighed. "That's great, Doc. Great to know I'm part of a small group of freaks... So, when is this split suppose ta happen?"

The medic examined the data pad again. "Based on the scans, I estimate sometime within the next three or four vorns. I suggest you take it easy for a while. You're going to be rough shape when it occurs."

"Alright, but what do I do 'bout gettin' a protoform for the sparkling?"

"Wait about a vorn before the split occurs, then go see Wheeljack and Perceptor," Ratchet answered. "I will explain the situation to them, so they will be prepared when you visit."

Blaster made a strange face. "Erm... Wheeljack?"

The medic chuckled. "Contrary to popular belief, Wheeljack does know how to make things that don't explode. Don't worry. He's one of the best mechs for the job."

The younger mech nodded and gave a sigh. "Thanks, Doc."

Ratchet placed a hand on Blaster's shoulder. "Don't be afraid to talk to me, Blaster. You can come whenever you need to. My door is always open."

Blaster simply nodded and slowly walked out of the facility and onto the streets of Praxus. He still wasn't quite sure what the condition meant for him. In truth, being able to do what only the Well of All Sparks was supposed to do and its similarity to organics... well, he didn't really know anything about organics period. The more he thought about it, the more it frightened him. He was the host of an evening radio broadcast so many autobots loved. This condition had already dealt a huge stab at his pride and self-esteem. What would this do to his career if anyone found out?

Oh, the show. That's right. He had to do it tonight. Well, slag.

For a moment, Blaster strongly considered cancelling the show. He felt like just collapsing on his berth and ignoring the rest of the world.

But...

The Voice wasn't just any show. It was Cybertron's show. Countless autobots from all walks of life connected to the frequency every second evening to listen to what Blaster had to say. He was a voice for many who didn't have one, even for those who simply refused to talk out of fear or shame. He had received countless messages over the years, many anonymous, for anything from current issues in the news to politics to advice on numerous personal topics; a common one being interfacing and bonding advice. And every show, Blaster gave it his all. No matter how he felt, he just couldn't abandon what he felt was his calling, his way of giving back to his home and its people.

Things were different now though. For the first time, he felt like he didn't have a voice. If he was the voice for everyone else, then... who would be the voice for him? He needed to talk to someone, anyone, but fear of retaliation kept him from going to just any random mech. He needed someone who wasn't biased or prejudice and would keep their discussion confidential. There was no point in talking to Ratchet or any other medic. They would just think he was being paranoid, overreacting.

Blaster sighed again and decided that a flight would do him good; he needed to head back to Iacon anyway. The red and silver metallic protrusions extending from his back began to move as his body shifted from a robot into a jet. Blaster set himself on autopilot as he flew above Praxus back towards Iacon, allowing his consciousness to fall into the depths of his memory centre. He found it hard to focus on any positive thought process when negative began constantly bombarding him. Freak, abomination, monster and aberration were among the many terms that popped up. The young mech was beginning to feel like his tanks were falling into a pit.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

A warning appeared on Blaster's HUD. Immediately coming back to reality, he regained control, slowed his flight speed and brought his attention to his proximity scanners.

No more than several metres ahead of him, hovering in mid-air in robot mode, was a dark blue mech. Like Blaster, he had protrusions extending from his back that appeared to form the wings of a jet or panels of a satellite. His helm, while of similar shape, was more sharp and rigid. His optics were hidden behind a red visor and faceplates behind a mask. He was staring directly at Blaster, or at least he appeared to be. Blaster came to stop in front of the mech and transformed back into robot mode. He gave the dark blue robot a half smile.

"Sorry 'bout that. Almost flew into ya." The blue mech remained silent. Blaster flickered his optics for a second before speaking again. "So, uh, I haven't seen you 'round before. You new 'round here?" Again, the mech refused to speak.

Then Blaster felt something strange from within his cerebral processor. It wasn't painful, but it was invasive. The intruder, whoever it was, was attempting to break into Blaster's data and memory banks. For a moment Blaster let the invader continue, paying close attention to processes. He kept his optics on the dark blue as the silence between them continued. Then, just as the invader was about to break through the firewall, Blaster made his move. He immediately activated all his mental defences and increased the strength of his firewall. The intruder immediately retreated from Blaster's mind, leaving everything as though it was never touched. The dark blue mech tilted his head slightly and regarded Blaster for a moment before transforming into jet mode and flying away. Blaster raised an optic ridge quizzically as he watched the mech until he was nothing but a tiny dot in the sky.

Had that mech been the one to invade his mind? If so, why?

Suddenly remembering what he was originally doing prior to meeting the mysterious mech, Blaster shoved that memory aside and began to focus on his current predicament. He still need to talk to someone about his problem. He pondered in the subject for a moment, then his optics lit up as his answer came: Sentinel Prime.

Oh course! Why didn't he think of this before? Sentinel was the perfect mech to talk to. Sure, he was currently one of the most powerful mechs on Cybertron but Sentinel never really felt like a leader. More like a friend. Someone you could confide in without fear of being looked down upon to treated differently. The Prime has a reputation that was built on kindness and compassion. The complete opposite of the Prime that came before him, Zeta Prime, whose reputation was more of rough discipline and military action.

Filled with a renewed sense of strength, Blaster didn't waste any time flying back to the Iacon city centre, where the offices of Sentinel Prime and his staff were located. Blaster silently thanked Primus that he was capable of flight as he briefly gazed down as the busy streets of Iacon. He transformed and landed on a balcony on the top floor, which opened into the hallway leading to the Prime's office. A few of Sentinel's staff greeted Blaster as he walked, to which he gave a nod or smile in reply. As he drew closer to Prime's office, Blaster saw two old mechs standing guard.

Ironhide and Kup were some of the oldest among the autobot population and two of the toughest mechs Blaster knew of. Though the red Ironhide wasn't quite as old as the green Kup, both were created in the same generation and had spent much of their years working together in security. Both mechs hailed from Altihex and were trained in Praxus, where they remained as full-time security officers until they were transferred to Iacon to join the Elite Guard at Sentinel Prime's request. The stern frowns on the old mechs' faceplates curved into smiles as they saw Blaster approach.

"Well, well. If it ain't Blaster," Ironhide began. "How're ya doin', kid?"

"Alright." The younger mech smiled in return. "Is Prime around?"

Kup crossed his arms. "Nah, Prime isn't here. He got called of to a meeting with the High Council an' won't be back for a while."

Blaster lowered his head. "Oh."

The elder mechs exchanged glances. Ironhide was the one who spoke. "You sure you're okay, kid?"

"...yeah. Yeah, I'm cool. I'll just come back later." Blaster turned to make his leave, when he heard a door open behind him. He turned around to see a young blue and red mech now standing in the entrance to Sentinel's office, holding a data pad. A young archivist from the Hall of Records known as Orion Pax. He gave a warm smile to Blaster. "Hello, Blaster."

Blaster faked a smile. "Oh. Hey, Orion. What's up?"

Orion's smile faded somewhat, a clear sign that he could read between the lines. "Are you doing alright? You don't sound like yourself."

"Is it that obvious?" Blaster asked with a sigh.

The archivist tilted his head. "You're normally a very happy mech, Blaster. If you of all autobots are feeling down, something must be up." Blaster went silent. Orion's smile returned as he beckoned Blaster forward. "Come inside, my friend. You're doing yourself no good by just standing out here."

Friend... Blaster replayed the audio track in his head several times as he followed Orion into Sentinel's office. Perhaps he could trust the archivist with his secret. Orion motioned for Blaster to sit down as he filled two cubes of energon. After handing one to Blaster, the archivist pulled up a chair and sat down in front of him. "If you are comfortable, may I ask what it is that's bothering you?"

Blaster stared into his cube. After a moment, he sighed and he began to speak. "I just found out I have a... condition. It's called Splitspark, or so I've been told. Apparently my spark produces too much energy and it needs to split itself to remove the excess. So I'll have my own sparklings soon."

Orion remained quiet for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "I see you are not happy with this revelation."

"O'course I'm not!" Blaster looked up at Orion. "My spark is doing what only the Well of All Sparks should do! Isn't that playing Primus? What would other autobots think? I... I don't know what to do, Orion."

The archivist couldn't help but chuckle. "Come now, Blaster. Aren't you thinking a little too hard on this? You're worrying over something that hasn't happened yet."

"Yeah, but..."

"Calm down, Blaster, and listen." Orion stood up and walked over to the window next to Sentinel's desk. After a moment's glance, he turned his gaze back to Blaster. "Scriptures in the Hall of Records teach us that Primus created Cybertron. The Well of All Sparks was created by Primus to birth sparks, and it is said that all sparks originally came from Primus Himself. I highly doubt that Primus allowed your spark to be born not knowing what would happen. He clearly knows you can handle this sort of thing. Besides," Orion strode over and clapped Blaster on the shoulder, "if it were me, I would think such a unique gift should embraced and celebrated."

For a moment, Blaster was speechless. A gift? Was his condition really a gift from Primus? The longer he held his gaze with Orion, the more he started to believe it. Slowly, a smile crept onto his faceplates. This time is was genuine. "Ya know, you have quite a way with words."

Orion chuckled. "I've been told that a lot. Sentinel says it's a characteristic of a good leader. I don't think I'm leadership material, but we'll see."

"Prime must think so if you're working for 'im," Blaster said in reply. "I know a few autobots who would love a chance to work for Prime."

"Oh? So I should be grateful then?" Orion grinned. "I hope our talk was helpful to you."

Blaster stood up and downed his energon cube in one gulp. "Way more than I thought it would. Thanks for listening, and for the energon too. Oh, and, uh..."

Orion's smile softened. "I'll keep this between us."

Blaster nodded. He handed the empty cube back to the archivist and turned towards the exit. After taking a couple of steps, he turned back. "Hey, have seen any mysterious mechs 'round recently?"

"Define mysterious."

Blaster rubbed the back of his neck cables. "It might be nothin', but... I saw this dark blue mech on the way here. He seemed to have the same type of chassis as me, but he was wearin' a visor and a mask. Just though you mighta heard somethin'."

"Can't say I have." The archivist frowned slightly. "I can inform you if I find out anything."

"Nah, no need. Just curious is all. I'll see ya later."

Orion nodded as Blaster strode out of Sentinel's office. His change of mood must have been quite noticeable, as both Kup and Ironhide had even bigger smiles on their faceplates than when he arrived. Blaster checked his chronometre as he returned to the balcony and nearly jumped. It was almost time for his broadcast! He transformed a flew to the other end of Iacon as fast as he could manage, making it to his studio with just minutes to spare. Pushing everything else to the background processes, his focus was solely on his impending broadcast. Smiling to himself, he sat down at his table full of recording equipment and tested each piece to ensure clear, quality sound. Hooking himself up, he began the countdown to the show, his smile growing wider in anticipation.

Three.

Blaster's right hand rested next to a small knob, fingers twitching in excitement.

Two.

He touched the knob with his index finger.

One!

Blaster turned the knob, opening the channel frequency and playing a random shock-pop tune to start the show off. After a few seconds, he turned the music volume to a minimum and began. "Gooood evening, Cybertron! Welcome one again to... The Voice! I'm your host Blaster and mech, do I have a show for you tonight!"