"Keep your optics open."

The sparkling obeyed as Knockout shone a light in her eyes. The blue orbs instinctively shuttered against the brightness and reopened when he moved the light away. As they should have.

"Good. Now hold still while I listen to your spark." Knockout exchanged the light for a tool like a stethoscope, which he pressed against the young bot's chest plates. The steady thrum of her spark pulsing sounded in his audio receptors—faster than an adult's, but that was normal. It still felt odd to Knockout, after millennia of piecing damaged soldiers back together, to find himself performing check-ups on sparklings. Since the war ended, his work had become far more…tame then he was used to. Small injuries and the occasional refugee with cosmic rust were all he was needed for. The rising generation of Cybertronians were his most pressing responsibility nowadays, and even that was limited to tending scrapes and doing routine diagnostics to confirm their health. Not that he minded it—the lack of medical emergencies meant more time for racing and buffing his paint job. It just felt… odd.

Shaking off the feeling, Knockout removed the stethoscope. "All right, you're done."

Hearing this report, the little femme jumped down from the berth. Knockout turned to the silver Autobot standing by the door—one of the caretakers for the new generation. "She's healthy as a scraplet. There shouldn't be any problems as long as she gets enough energon and recharge."

The silver robot nodded and took the sparkling's hand. They left together. Knockout drummed his fingers on the berth as he waited for the next patient to be brought in. His optics wandered around the room. He barely recognized his old med-bay anymore; the Autobots had been thorough when they'd converted the Nemesis into a care center for the newsparks. His former quarters now housed a dozen young Cybertronians of various sizes, and the other rooms in the ship were similarly employed. The adults who'd once resided here had long since found other lodgings, himself included—few mechs had the patience to put up with a hundred sparklings as neighbors. He only ever came here now to do medical check-ups.

From fearsome warship, to nursery, Knockout mused to himself. There's irony there somewhere...

A sudden flurry of shouting from outside broke him out of his reverie. A moment later, the door slid open and a harried-looking femme hurried inside. Knockout straightened as she entered, noting her rush.

"Is something wrong?" He inquired. The femme seemed upset, but it appeared to more frustration than fear. "Are there any sparklings I haven't seen yet?"

"Yes, there are," the femme huffed, venting to cool herself off. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting; there's one more sparkling due for a check-up, but he's being…difficult." She gave him an apologetic look. "You know how children can be. If you'll just give us a few cycles, I'm sure we can convince him to come in."

Knockout huffed quietly. As Chief Medic of the Decepticons, no one had dared to ignore an appointment with him. That was one of the benefits of a ruthless reputation; bots feared the consequences of irritating him more than they feared his less-than-tender ministrations. But now he had to play by Autobot rules, and they didn't look kindly on such practices. He'd have to try a different approach.

"Where's the sparkling now?" Knockout asked.

"He crammed himself into an air vent in the berthroom. It's too small for any of us to get into, or we'd try to pull him out…"

"Show me. "

The femme seemed surprised by the request, but she didn't press for an explanation. Knockout followed her down the halls of the Nemesis to a room with bunks lining the walls. Knockout recognized it as the sleeping quarters for the drones—or at least, it used to be. At the back of the room, two more caretakers were crouching by a hole in the wall—a ventilation duct whose grate had been removed. One of the caretakers looked up as Knockout and the femme approached. His expression was one of hopelessness.

"No luck?" the femme sighed.

"We've tried everything, but he won't come out!" The mech seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

"Have you offered him an energon sweet? That might work."
"It didn't."

"You're going about this the wrong way," Knockout interjected, gaining the caretakers' attention. "Let me handle this."

The caretakers stiffened at that statement. Knockout saw what looked suspiciously like fear flicker across the head-femme's face, though she tried to hide it. Knockout sighed inwardly at the reminder of his former allegiance. He knew that despite the faction symbol he now wore, the Autobots—even the most tolerant ones—didn't really trust him. True, the sparkling caretakers were usually quite respectful, but he'd noticed the way they hovered nearby when he examined the young bots. They never left him alone with their charges—as if afraid he might suddenly revert to his "Decepticon ways" and tear the helpless sparkling limb from limb. He let out a scoff of disgust.

"Look," he snapped at the hesitant mechs, "I'm not going to bite, okay? Just back away from the vent a bit and let me talk to the kid."

The femme averted her gaze, ashamed that her prejudice had been noticed. But she motioned for the other mechs to move. The three caretakers retreated to the doorway, leaving Knockout to take care of the problem. The medic huffed again and turned his attention to the vent. Crouching, he could see the vague shape of a sparkling curled inside the duct, just out of arm's reach. The medic sat down with his back against the wall, purposely not looking into the vent. He took a moment to summon an air on nonchalance, as if what happened next had no importance to him.

"…So," he said, "You don't want to go to your examination."

There was a moment of silence.

"Don't need a 'zam-in-a-shun." A sulky voice muttered from the duct. "I'm fine."

Knockout nodded. "Yes, I hear that one a lot."

"Not comin' out." The voice said bluntly, as if there would be no argument on the matter.

Knockout had expected as much. He shifted on the floor, stretching out his legs to get more comfortable. "What's your name, sparkling?"

There was no answer from the duct. Knockout looked to the caretakers. "What's his name?"

The hopeless-looking mech fidgeted. "Sideswipe."

"Sideswipe." Knockout tapped his chin as if in thought. "That name sounds familiar—oh yes! Some of the other sparklings mentioned him!" he said, making sure he was loud enough to be heard down the duct.

The caretakers looked puzzled, but Knockout ignored them and went on. "I guess they were right, he was too scared to go through with a medic visit." He took on a faux sympathetic tone. "Yes, there's always one or two bots like that… He needs a light on during the night, too, doesn't he?"

A scraping came from inside the vent, as if its occupant had stiffened in indignation. Knockout smirked. He gave the befuddled caretakers a wink, continuing. "And he worries about monsters under the berth, most likely. I think one sparkling said he leaks transmission fluid during recharge—"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" More scraping, and suddenly a tiny head popped out of the vent to glare at Knockout. The medic raised his optic ridges, feigning surprise.

"Are you sure? I could've sworn that's what they said…"

"It's not true! They're lying!" The sparkling jumped to his feet. Now that he was in the light, Knockout could see the little mech had a red paint job and a helm that resembled a spiky hairstyle. His little optics blazed with righteous fury.

"I don't leak transmission fluid," Sidewipe said again, stomping a foot. "And I'm not afraid of anything! I'm the bravest mech in the sparkling center!"
"Really? I guess I was misinformed, then." Knockout inclined his head in apology. He looked the sparkling up and down appraisingly. "You do look rather intimidating."

Sideswipe puffed himself up at the words. "I'm braver than any mech here," he boasted,. "The other kids get scared when the lights go out, or when there's noises at night or when the big mechs tell spooky stories. But I'm not afraid of anything."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. One time, there was a cyber-roach in the play room and the other kids were all screaming and running away from it, but I just walked up and squish-ded it." He looked Knockout straight in the optic and stomped his foot for emphasis. "Splat."

Knockout whistled. "That is impressive! You must be a very courageous mech." The medic looked around, and then leaned forward as if to share something secret. "I bet the other sparklings are jealous of how brave you are."

Sideswipe nodded grimly, and Knockout took the cue to continue "You know, the other sparklings are scared of medics. They don't like getting examinations; they cry, or try to run away. But a brave sparkling like you wouldn't do that, would you?"

Sideswipe started to nod, then stopped as Knockout's words sunk in. Knockout pressed a bit more. "If you went to your examination without putting up a fuss, the other sparklings couldn't say you were afraid. If they hear you tried to get of it, though…" He trailed off, letting the sparkling make his own connections.

Sideswipe furrowed his brow. He was clearly still torn; Knockout could see fear and stubborn pride fighting for dominance on his squinched face. He was so close, he just needed something to tip the scale… time for a tactic change.

"Oh! And your paint!" The medic exclaimed, making Sideswipe jump.

"What?"

"Your paint!" Knockout gestured to the sparkling's paint job. "You got it all scuffed up crawling in the vent! That's no way for a brave warrior to look." Knockout looked into the sparkling's optics earnestly. "All the greatest mechs keep their armor polished and pristine. Optimus Prime never went out in public with scuffed paint."

Sideswipe's eyes widened at this new information. He examined his paint job with new concern.

"Tell you what," Knockout said, "I have wax and a buffer in my tool kit. Come with me and we'll have you looking proper in no time."

"Okay!" Sideswipe agreed excitedly. He raced for the door, not even waiting for the medic. Knockout got up and hurried to catch up with him. He allowed himself a smug grin upon seeing the caretakers' expressions. Autobot or Decepticon, he was still clever enough to outwit a sparkling.

Author's notes: I'm not totally pleased with how this came out. It's the brainchild of a crazy idea I had after seeing the 2015 "Robots in Disguise" series, and while I like the idea, I'm not sure I executed it very well. I'd like to add onto this-this chapter is only half the story-but knowing me, I'll probably never get around to it. If you like it, please let me know; reader praise is great motivation.