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Description
When Ratchet isn't busy working in the repair bay scrapping together Lambo twins or patching up Wheeljack, he finds himself repairing Teletran-I. Well, one thing's better about repairing the Ark's computer: it doesn't gripe or complain like Sunstreaker or Tracks, or anyone else for that matter.

Pencil and inked by me.

(C) Ratchet is property of HasTak not me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For once, for one whole fragging day, the repair bay was blissfully empty.

A gust of hot air exited Ratchet's exhaust pipes as he examined Teletran-I's sparking boards. Prime had reported earlier that morning about overexcited Dinobots scrambling all over the Ark. But Wheeljack never mentioned that the Autobot's main computer had been playfully 'nudged' during that mad chase.

With a grunt, the CMO (now turned Ark repairman and engineer since the actual engineer was out showing off his stuntdriving to the twins) set to work in the unusally quiet control room. A few meters away, Prowl sat quietly tapping through his datapad. Ratchet guessed that it would take nothing short of an emergancy to shake the thoroughly engrossed Datsun.

Meanwhile, a hum of motors throttled through the entrance of the Ark.

"He's going to throw a fit, you know?"

"Shut up, Sunstreaker."

"Hush you two, can't you do anything quietly? I'd rather not let Ratchet hear about this."

"Mr. Cranky-Pistons would chew you out real good too, Wheeljack." The sound of flailing. "Hey! Sunny! I'm slipping here!"

"Stop pawing at me, you're going to ruin my finish!"

"Guys! Guys! Shush!"

Clank

Silence.

The noisy trio froze in midstep and jerkily turned their heads towards the direction of the Command Deck. Furious blue optics stared right back at them.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!"

Wheeljack's fins flashed spastically as he looked sheepishly towards the Lambo twins. "It's been nice knowing you guys...see yah!" With that, the engineer dropped into his alt-form and peeled away to his lab leaving Sunstreaker and a mangled Sideswipe to Ratchet's tender mercies.

"WHEELJACK! COME BACK HERE, YOU SLAGGING WASTE-PILE OF A TURBO-RAT!"

"That would be our cue to scram 'Sides!"

But before the twins had any chance to move, a familiar commanding tone arrested them.

"What did you two do this time?"

Prowl stood rigidly before the two Lamborghinis, arms crossed and datapad dangling from one hand. His doors twitched uncontrollably as the 21C eyed the miscreants.

"Run for it!"

"OH NO YOU DON'T!"

Later that day, others would shake their heads in confusion as they watched Red Alert review security tapes of Sunstreaker dragging a well-dented Sideswipe down the Ark's corridors as a raging Ratchet chased after them.

Description
When Ratchet isn't busy working in the repair bay scrapping together Lambo twins or patching up Wheeljack, he finds himself repairing Teletran-I. Well, one thing's better about repairing the Ark's computer: it doesn't gripe or complain like Sunstreaker or Tracks, or anyone else for that matter.

Pencil and inked by me.

(C) Ratchet is property of HasTak not me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For once, for one whole fragging day, the repair bay was blissfully empty.

A gust of hot air exited Ratchet's exhaust pipes as he examined Teletran-I's sparking boards. Prime had reported earlier that morning about overexcited Dinobots scrambling all over the Ark. But Wheeljack never mentioned that the Autobot's main computer had been playfully 'nudged' during that mad chase.

With a grunt, the CMO (now turned Ark repairman and engineer since the actual engineer was out showing off his stuntdriving to the twins) set to work in the unusally quiet control room. A few meters away, Prowl sat quietly tapping through his datapad. Ratchet guessed that it would take nothing short of an emergancy to shake the thoroughly engrossed Datsun.

Meanwhile, a hum of motors throttled through the entrance of the Ark.

"He's going to throw a fit, you know?"

"Shut up, Sunstreaker."

"Hush you two, can't you do anything quietly? I'd rather not let Ratchet hear about this."

"Mr. Cranky-Pistons would chew you out real good too, Wheeljack." The sound of flailing. "Hey! Sunny! I'm slipping here!"

"Stop pawing at me, you're going to ruin my finish!"

"Guys! Guys! Shush!"

Clank

Silence.

The noisy trio froze in midstep and jerkily turned their heads towards the direction of the Command Deck. Furious blue optics stared right back at them.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!"

Wheeljack's fins flashed spastically as he looked sheepishly towards the Lambo twins. "It's been nice knowing you guys...see yah!" With that, the engineer dropped into his alt-form and peeled away to his lab leaving Sunstreaker and a mangled Sideswipe to Ratchet's tender mercies.

"WHEELJACK! COME BACK HERE, YOU SLAGGING WASTE-PILE OF A TURBO-RAT!"

"That would be our cue to scram 'Sides!"

But before the twins had any chance to move, a familiar commanding tone arrested them.

"What did you two do this time?"

Prowl stood rigidly before the two Lamborghinis, arms crossed and datapad dangling from one hand. His doors twitched uncontrollably as the 21C eyed the miscreants.

"Run for it!"

"OH NO YOU DON'T!"

Later that day, others would shake their heads in confusion as they watched Red Alert review security tapes of Sunstreaker dragging a well-dented Sideswipe down the Ark's corridors as a raging Ratchet chased after them.