TITLE: Lock
Down
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned
by
people with a lot more money
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can
do. Any
mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize
FEEDBACK: Loved
Some days it really wasn’t worth getting up.
Sam
Witwicky found that a late September morning was such a day. The night
had been
rather short, filled with last-minute studying, cramming everything
about
theoretical thermodynamics into his brain that was even possible. He
had slept
maybe four hours, then dragged himself over
to the
campus to sit in with a few dozen other hopeful engineering students
who looked
as tired as he did. Professor Matthews was a rather demanding teacher,
allowing
no slacking, and whoever fell asleep in his classes was kicked out. So
he had a
very attentive group of young men and women, all slaving over
assignments.
Sam found that practical courses were as easy as pie, but theory was as
hard as
it was for everyone. He had to study just like the others and there was
nothing
that made it easier for him, not even his new abilities.
Three coffees and one exam later, Sam collapsed into the Camaro that
was
waiting for him in the parking lot.
“Man,” he groaned.
“How did it go?” Bumblebee asked.
“I think my brain’s going to collapse any moment now. I think I’m dead.”
There was a chuckle from his friend. ::Too
tired to go
for a drive?:: Bumblebee asked, using something new between them.
::You drive, I’ll enjoy the rush:: Sam
replied,
smiling.
Their way of communicating had taken a while to settle. At first Sam
had been
slightly freaked that his mind had the ability to uplink to the
mechanoids that
were his friends. It had been because Bumblebee had started to use it
frequently that Sam had gotten used to it. It still was strange, but
not really
all that freaky any more. And since the others didn’t uplink, he could
handle
one of the mechanoids using this way of communication.
Add to it that Bumblebee was always around him, felt comfortable and
familiar,
was a known friend, and Sam was way more relaxed than even around Jazz.
The Camaro joined the late afternoon traffic and headed out of
He was looking forward to the coming weekend. His parents were away for
some
obscure birthday party from a friend of his Dad’s and he would be at
the
Autobot base. Actually he would be working.
Sam grinned.
And it would be fun.
He closed his eyes, felt the continuing thrum. It changed smoothly into
a
pulsing light, into the coolness of the spark that was everything
Bumblebee. It
was the very core of his being, his soul and the home of his mind, his
emotions, his heart. It could exist without a body, but the body could
never be
more than a mindless machine without the spark.
…
He wasn’t one of the tallest Cybertronians, but he was fast and he
knew his
way around. He was a spy. He was a scout. He could think fast on his
feet and
he always made the best of any given situation, be it in battle or
throughout
training.
Testing his wheels, Bumblebee accelerated, new to this planet, but
never new to
a form. As his body took on a new shape, chose a transformation, his
mind
adjusted. It was easy. It was how they functioned.
Everything was so much smaller than he was used to. Sam had been
surprised how
organic this world was, how populated, and how advanced these organics
were. A
lot had surprised him, but he had learned fast with internet uplinks
and by
just watching.
And he had discovered music as communication.
Sam waited in front of a red light, his hologram in place, then drove
across
the intersection to…
…
::“Sam!”::
He jerked out of the deep uplink, blinking in confusion. Sam needed a
moment to
realize where he was and who he was with – and what he had done.
“Bee…?”
“You linked, Sam.”
“Oh. Uhm.
Sorry. Oh god, Bee, I did it again, right? I
deep-linked!”
Bumblebee had slowed down and come to a stop, “Yes, but it’s
okay. You didn’t hurt me.”
“I… I was you again,” Sam whispered, horrified. Not by the fact, but by
his
deeds.
“How did it feel?” the mech asked
curiously.
He thought about it for a moment. “Pretty cool,” Sam confessed with a
small
smile.
He felt Bumblebee’s amusement. “It’s pretty cool to feel you, too,” his
friend
said.
“I just wish I could control it better,” Sam added. He knew he sounded
like a
petulant child.
“It’s like… it’s irresistible.”
“Only as long as you haven’t learned complete
control.”
He sank deeper into the seat. “Yeah. Sucks. What if it happens with the others, too?”
So far it had only been Bumblebee where he had hitched a ride into the positronic mind, riding on memories and emotions
of an
alien being. It had been really cool, true, but it was also frightening.
“You’ll learn,” Bumblebee told him, sounding very convinced.
Sam wasn’t so sure. It had been months now and he wasn’t getting
better. At least in his eyes. But maybe
this was a life-long
learning.
Man, that would suck.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Ratchet was fascinated by the boxes filled with machinery from Sector
Seven. With
the disbanding of the secret government research group, all their
experiments
had been shipped to the Autobot base. Ratchet had
been and
always was the first to unpack something new, scan it, take it apart,
categorize it, and then decide what to do with it. Bumblebee
helped
sometimes, as did Sam, who was the perfect assistant for the tiny
things. With
his interest in engineering and Cybertronian technology, it was a
learning
experience for the college student each and every time.
Add to that Sam’s still-developing abilities as a technopath
and Ratchet couldn’t really complain. Aside from a few little problems,
like
blowing up one of the scanners, Sam had control over his powers.
Sometimes he
was overwhelmed when three or even four of the mechanoids were
together, maybe
even communicated among themselves, but luckily he had Bumblebee as a
kind of
anchor. Ratchet had been surprised and then fascinated by the fact that
Sam
anchored himself in the other mind and Bumblebee felt no averse
reaction. For him it was like linking to one of his own kind.
It warranted more research and Ratchet kept an eye on developments.
The medic surveyed the contents of the latest box. All of it had been
marked as
‘unfinished’ or ‘abandoned’. He had read the files on everything Sector
Seven
had done, and these were the projects the scientists had discontinued
for some
reason or other.
He picked out the first item and began.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Throughout the next hours he was joined by
Sam
Witwicky. Sam remained well into the night and the next morning until
he was
too tired to make much sense of anything any more. He kept on creating
glitches
or little system failures, a clear sign that his mind was exhausted.
Sam had a
penchant for losing himself in research, something,
he
had once confessed to Ratchet, he had never thought he could do before.
He had
never been true geek, though he liked research, and he had never been a
real
jock, but he wasn’t a couch potato either. Now,
not only with
his technopathy but also because the
subject of
Cybertronian technology was so interesting, he forgot time and he had
again
been awake for nearly twenty-four hours.
Ratchet sent him to bed. There were rooms for the human contingent of
allies
stationed with the Autobots, namely Major Lennox and his team. Since
Sam stayed
overnight sometimes, too – whenever he didn’t have to be in school – he
had his
own bed here, too.
Ratchet returned to his work.
He didn’t see one of the objects Sam had catalogued start to power up.
He didn’t hear its soft hum until it increased enough for his audios to
register it as… intrusive.
And then there was a pulse of energy, of something brief but strong,
and
Ratchet’s systems blanked for a nano
second.
The blink of a human eye.
Normalcy.
Ratchet stood at his work bench, confused as to what had happened, and
his
optics fell on the innocent object.
From outside there was a loud yell that
jerked him out
of his stupor.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Ironhide had just rolled into the base when something had pulsed
through him,
briefly blanking his systems, almost locking everything down. He
shuddered, all
functions stopping for a brief, brief second, and then he was back.
“Ironhide?”
That was
“You okay?”
“I’m not sure. What just happened?”
“Your engine stalled, you kinda shuddered,
and now
you’re back.”
Ironhide rumbled, disturbed.
“Ironhide?”
“What in the name of Cybertron’s
Pits…” he
snarled.
His transformation circuits were locked. Nothing gave a single inch.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Bumblebee had
naturally been at the base since Sam was here. They were usually
together. It was an easy partnership, never intrusive, and Bumblebee
pulled
back when Sam needed his privacy.
Their relationship had evolved from car and driver to something
special. In the
beginning, Bumblebee’s job had been to find the Allspark,
and through his research he had discovered the Witwicky family. It had
taken
him three years and a lot of patience to find the one they needed,
Samuel James
Witwicky, the descendant of the man who had discovered Megatron and who
had the
coordinates of the Allspark.
Their first contact had been far from smooth and satisfying. Bumblebee
had
learned a lot about humans in his years on Earth and while they watched
sci-fi
and wrote and read books about fantastic alien encounters, they were
frightened
of something this alien and this new. He couldn’t just contact Sam in
his true
form. He had to be stealthy.
Getting bought by Sam had been the first step. Then he had tried to
show Sam
that he was more than a car. Luring him with him to show Sam what he
was from a
distance as the Autobot had contacted his team had been a first
attempt. Of
course Sam had been frightened – and then he had gotten arrested. So much for a smooth plan. It had backfired a
little.
The second attempt had been even more disastrous. Sam had freaked and
he had
run into Barricade, nearly gotten hurt, and Bumblebee had had to
intervene. But
after that his future charge had known he was more than a car. He had
been less
frightened when they had met eye to optic, and Bumblebee had felt…
proud. Sam was
brave. He had decided that Bumblebee wasn’t a threat, could have hurt
him if he
had truly wanted to and hadn’t, and he had trusted the alien robot.
Yes, he had felt proud.
After
It was like a bond, the Camaro mused. He had never felt what Jazz had
with
Barricade with anyone, and he might never. Resonating sparks were far
and few.
There were Cybertronians who just didn’t have such luck. That Sam was
now able
to touch him like that was… incredible.
Bumblebee smiled to himself as he caught up with what he had missed
while he
was away from the base. He usually got tight data burst now and then
when he
needed to be updated on matters, but whenever Sam was here, he did it
the
conventional way.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
When it happened, Bumblebee was on his way to the lab again. Bumblebee
had
experience with all kinds of uplinks, lately with the addition of Sam’s
mind
anchoring in his, but this was… weird. There was no other word for it.
For a nano-second there had been nothing
but static,
like going off-line, and then… nothing
changed at all.
No information loss, no time shift, nothing.
Ironhide’s yell was unmistakable and Bumblebee hurried into the main
hangar
where a truly furious Ironhide was apparently trying to transform.
Major Lennox
stood next to him, looking stunned.
“He can’t transform,” the human said.
The yellow Autobot stared at his friend. “What?” he blurted.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Barricade had seen no sense in staying at the Autobot base, aside from
the fact
that Jazz was there and recharging at the moment. The Solstice had been
in bad
need of it after running an undercover mission for several weeks that
had
exposed an ex-Sector Seven thief to them. Recharge in that time had
been
limited to a bare minimum, leaving the silver mechanoid in dire need of
a good
recharge without disturbances. Barricade had just stared disapprovingly
at him
until Jazz had relented and walked off to the recharge chamber.
Barricade
himself had been in a lot better shape and he would recharge on his own
time,
out here, without having to watch his back. He would have preferred a
much more
secluded place, but Jazz was here and Barricade felt a kind of
obligation to
stay with his partner.
The obligation didn’t come from a falsely understood sense of loyalty.
Jazz was
his spark-bonded partner. They shared the same resonance. There was no
question
about loyalty. It was just…
Barricade clenched his teeth at the thoughts.
Jazz was part of him. He protected that part just as much as Jazz had
his back.
In the past two years the former Decepticon had been among the Autobots
on
Earth and he had developed a kind of loyalty here, too. Barricade had
served
Megatron, but with the death of his former leader, and with Megatron’s
last
action – killing Jazz – he had forsaken everything. The Decepticons
were
nothing but a memory now. He would never go back. He would be at Jazz’s
side,
come what may, and that Optimus Prime had accepted him had been only a
small
surprise. The Autobots were hopeless in that regard.
Ironhide was one of the few who truly distrusted him and Barricade
found it a
healthy distrust. The former Decepticon couldn’t change who and what he
was. He
had been that mech before he had joined
Megatron and
he would remain it. Maybe he hadn’t been as ruthless – that had been
honed and
formed by Megatron. But he had been built as a hunter. He had been
programmed
with everything he needed to be good at his job. Experience and his
life had
taught him to expand and refine the programming. He was what he was and
no
Autobot could change that, not even Jazz – who had never tried.
Now Jazz was in a badly needed recharge and Barricade was keeping half
an optic
on the base and what was happening, the other half was resting.
He had promised his partner not to get into trouble, which meant
evading
Ironhide and trying to stay inconspicuous. The weapons specialist was
currently
on patrol and Barricade had taken the chance to slip into a brief
half-doze
himself, sitting in the sun outside the base and soaking up the warmth.
When the pulse rattled his systems, he jerked out of his rest mode,
startled. All
systems went online, scanning for dangers, but there was nothing. Dust,
dead
plants, insects…
A loud yell came from inside the hangar and his first response was to
power up
completely. He tried to transform and…
… he was stuck.
Barricade was struck speechless for a nanosecond, then
he attempted a transformation again, but with the same results once
more.
He couldn’t transform. Everything was in lock-down.
Starting his engine he tore away from his parking spot and drove into
the base.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Ratchet was stumped. His scanners ran over the two car forms and he
tried to
understand what had happened. All results he got were the same:
Barricade and
Ironhide were locked in their vehicle alternate modes and whatever he
had
tried, nothing had changed that fact.
Bumblebee and himself had been in robot
mode when the
strange pulse had gone through the base and the surrounding area, and
Optimus
Prime had thankfully already left to meet with the Secretary of Defense, so he had not been affected. Jazz was
still in
recharge and it looked like the lock-down would keep him there for a
while.
Whatever was going on, it affected their abilities to change their
form. Everyone
was in the mode he had been when the pulse had swept over the base.
Curious.
“Do something!” Ironhide demanded.
“I have to analyze what happened first,” Ratchet answered calmly. “I
don’t know
what happened, Ironhide.”
“Typical,” Barricade muttered.
Ironhide growled. “This could be some Decepticon plot!”
“Oh right,” was the acid reply. “I lock myself down in this useless
form with
you and do what?”
Ironhide rumbled deeply. “How should I know how
your slagging brain works, Con!”
“If you would employ yours, you’d find that there is nothing I
can do in
this form,” Barricade answered coldly.
The topkick suddenly surged forward,
upsetting
“Ironhide!” Ratchet bellow and stepped in
front of the
blunt prow, slamming a hand onto the hood, hard enough to leave a
sizable dent.
“Stop it!”
Barricade’s engine rumbled deeply, but he stayed. Ratchet was
hyper-aware of
the Decepticon in his back, but right now he needed Ironhide to keep
cool.
“How do you know it wasn’t him?” his friend demanded sharply.
“I don’t, but why would Barricade harm himself?”
“He’s a Deception.”
That got a hollow laugh out of the Decepticon in question. “You’re such
an
idiot. Such a typical Autobot propaganda.”
Ironhide’s engine roared again, but Ratchet didn’t move and Ironhide
didn’t
risk running him over.
“Enough, you two! Major Lennox, are you
okay?” Ratchet
addressed the human.
“Yeah. Just a bruise.”
Brown
eyes shot the truck a dark look. “I’d kick your ass for that, but I’d
only
break my toes. What the fuck are you, Ironhide? Three years old? My
daughter is
more mature than you!”
The weapons specialist rolled back and while he had no facial features,
he
looked contrite.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Will.”
“How about switching on that big brain of yours?”
“I need to scan all of you,” Ratchet interrupted. “Including
you, Barricade.”
The Saleen shifted on his shocks, not happy.
Ratchet hoped it wasn’t connected to the Sector Seven device, but as
bad luck
went, it probably was. It had activated for some reason and sent out
this
pulse. But first things first. Right now
tempers were
high and they would get higher if it turned out to be something more
than a
temporary matter.
He started with Bumblebee, running a deep scan over his friend, storing
the
data, then continued to the others.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Sam gazed at his friends, speechless.
“You can’t transform?” he repeated.
“No, we slaggin’ can’t,” Ironhide groused.
“I’m stuck
as some kind of oversized truck and my self-repairs
can’t take care of it.”
Barricade was silent, but Sam had the clear impression of the former
Decepticon
smirking at that.
“I believe this to be the source of all problems,” Ratchet said and
held up the
device he and Sam had studied just the evening earlier.
“But… it has no function,” Sam protested.
He had looked that thing over and over and it had seemed like some
randomly
constructed piece of functionless machinery. Even his technopathic
mind had been unable to make much sense of it. Now it was supposed to
have
affected the Cybertronians like that?
“It apparently has,” Barricade stated levelly. “It locked us down.”
“Impossible!”
“It might be shielded from espionage,” the Saleen added.
“How would Sector Seven know about technopathy?”
Sam
challenged.
“Why do you assume they don’t?”
“But I’m a freak of nature! Not even you guys have heard of something
like
that, so why Sector Seven?”
“He has a point,” Ironhide grudgingly spoke up. “Sector Seven might not
have
foreseen technopathy as you have it, but
maybe they
managed to shield the device in a way that you can’t look at it by
chance or
while trying to cover something else.”
Ratchet looked thoughtful. “I haven’t found any technical data in the
files we
received from Sector Seven concerning this particular device. Normally
the
scientists documented each step and their success or failure.”
“You think the data was erased before the military got it downloaded?”
Bumblebee
asked.
“Possible, but Ironhide and I went over all data strings and those who
had been
erased have been tracked down. There is nothing at all in the files.”
Sam looked at the device, thoughtful. “I could look deeper,” he offered.
Bumblebee shifted uneasily. “That’s dangerous,” he said.
“Not if I can anchor myself to you and you pull me back when things get
tough.”
Ratchet shook his head. “You don’t know what this thing will do to you,
Sam. You
didn’t even recognize it, let alone analyze it like you do everything
else. Something
about it keeps it off your radar and that protection might be harmful
to you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you,” Ratchet pointed out calmly.
“You wouldn’t be able to stop me if I wanted to do it,” Sam shot back.
“I don’t
even need to touch the thing to do this. I can just access it from
where I
stand and you wouldn’t have a chance to reverse it.”
The medic looked unhappy. “No, no one could, but it’s too dangerous,
Sam. You
could harm yourself.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
“Like the good little Autobot lover you are,” Barricade muttered.
Bumblebee shot the Mustang a sharp look. “Barricade…”
Sam glared at him, too, but for other reasons. “I’m an adult. I can
make my own
decisions. I want to help you guys and if it means to look into this
device,
I’ll do it.”
There was a chuckle from Barricade. “Autobot lover
with
suicidal tendencies.”
Ironhide’s engine revved and he menacingly rolled closer to the smaller
vehicle.
“Shut your trap, ‘Con, or I’ll do it for
you!”
“How? Run me over?” Barricade taunted. “You’d have to catch me first.”
The engine of the topkick howled again and
“Ironhide, no. This isn’t getting us
anywhere.”
“Leashed,” Barricade laughed.
“And you shut up, too,” the Major barked. “Killing ourselves won’t
solve this
problem.”
The engine of the Saleen hummed quietly and there was a distinct aura
of menace
still around him. No matter how long he had been affiliated with the
Autobots
already, he was an outsider. Sam’s eyes were on the police cruiser,
feeling a
twinge of sadness. Among all of them, and aside from Jazz, he was the
only one
who knew what was underneath all the bristle and barbs. Like Ironhide,
who
liked to maintain his gruff exterior, Barricade used his darkness and
perceived
lethal temper to keep the others from coming closer.
Jazz was bonded to him and knew him like no other, and Sam had touched
the
electronic mind and seen more than he had ever wanted to. Barricade was
aware
of it and they had never touched the topic, but Sam felt the former Decepticon’s wariness of his knowledge.
“Ratchet, please,” the young man addressed the medic that was towering
over
them. “I can do this. Bumblebee will keep me out of trouble.”
The smaller Autobot nodded. “Of course.”
“Neither of you knows what’s inside this thing, Sam,” Ratchet
argued
again. “It might be more than you can deal with. What if it attacks you
both? It
could cripple your mind to get lost inside.”
Sam sighed in frustration. “I know the dangers. It’s like driving,
Ratchet. You
know you can get killed on the road, but you can handle your car and
you gotta trust in your abilities.”
“And he has a safety net,” Bumblebee added.
“You can’t stop me,” Sam drove home the last point.
“I’m painfully aware of that.” Ratchet was silent for a second, then
nodded. “I
will monitor you and at the first sign of life-threatening danger, I
want you
to pull him out, Bumblebee.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t let anything harm
Sam.”
Sam was aware of Barricade watching them – him – closely, but the
Saleen didn’t
say a thing. For a brief moment he let his senses brush over the
presence,
surprised to find Barricade not pulling back, then
he
stared. He had picked up a very clear offer.
::Why?:: he sent.
Sam’s ability to use a kind of internal uplink to communicate with the
Autobots
stood and fell with his own concentration, as well as the willingness
of the
mechanoid in question. He had no problem at all with Bumblebee. He had
only
once tried it with Ironhide and gotten the headache of the century.
Ironhide
was old and his defenses against such
things were top
notch. The same was true about Optimus, though he was a lot more
willing to
train with Sam in that matter. Ratchet and Jazz ranked among medium
problematic,
depending on whether Sam had his mind focused or not. Barricade… he had
only
once touched that mind and that had been an attack. He didn’t want to
risk that
again, didn’t want to risk damaging Barricade. Maybe it was a personal
matter,
maybe it was a Decepticon thing, but whatever it was, Sam didn’t want
to hurt
anyone. He usually stayed within the safe confines of Bumblebee’s
systems. So
this contact was… surprising.
::You are the means to ending this abysmal
state I’m
in:: was Barricade’s simple answer.
And get Jazz out of stasis. It was the unspoken addition.
::So you’ll protect that tool?::
::Exactly::
::Thanks:: Sam answered quietly.
::Don’t thank me, human.::
Right. Never thank him because Barricade hated to be reminded of the
fact that
he was doing something… nice. Jazz teased him about it and Sam knew
more than
anyone, more than Barricade was actually comfortable with. He still
didn’t know
why Barricade really protected him. He was an ally, he was useful, but
the
former Decepticon had gone great lengths in insuring he was safe and
sound
sometimes. Now he actually volunteered to protect him once more.
So Sam just smiled briefly and turned back to the others.
“Ready,”
he declared.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Sam hat never worked with a double security
net. Normally he had only
Bumblebee, who he knew inside out, but now there was something like a
dark
shadow hovering behind his friend, the secondary anchor. Only because
he knew
Barricade had Sam felt well with this. He had already been in contact
with the
former Decepticon’s mind; he knew where he
stood with
Barricade. Like he knew where he stood with Bumblebee.
Bumblebee himself had been wary and surprised to find Barricade there,
but he
hadn’t acted on it.
::It’s okay, Bee:: Sam reassured his friend.
::He won’t hurt me::
::I know. It’s just… even now I need to get used to his… helpfulness::
Sam chuckled. ::Don’t let Barricade hear
that. The
helpfulness part, that is.::
::Never:: the Camaro laughed.
Sliding along the, for others, invisible line that linked his mind to
the
device, Sam explored the outer systems. They were nothing remarkable,
no more
complicated than a human-made computer. There were hints of
Cybertronian
technology, but only in its most rudimentary form. Sam had touched a
lot more
complicated systems already, and he knew mechanoid minds, which were
the most
complex of all.
Going even deeper, he found a few more curious things that tickled his technopathic senses. Nothing bad, though. Just
like a…
tingle. Sam looked around and wondered why this innocent looking device
had
locked every mechanoid in the form he had been in at the time. He
walked along
the programming and poked and prodded.
Nothing happened.
Until he reached for what looked like an uplink.
Sam gave a cry of surprise as his mind was flooded with defense
programs, with information, with spy ware, with everything that seemed
to be
hidden behind the façade of a senseless device. He threw up shields,
felt
Bumblebee take a hold of him, and he grabbed for his anchor, suddenly
frightened.
More programs seemed to wake, like sleepers out of a coma, and they
turned to
face the intruder. Sam yelled in fear and tried to evade what looked
like a
vicious attack.
All his training went out the window.
Bumblebee’s grip tightened even more –
-- and was suddenly joined by another, equally strong grasp. Sam felt
the cool,
logical mind of Barricade briefly bump into his frightened one, jarring
him out
of his rising panic.
I have trained this, Sam thought desperately. I’ve done this
before,
right?
No, not really. He had never defended himself against such viciousness,
had
never counter-attacked what he had just met.
::Focus!:: Barricade’s growl snapped him out
of his
rising desperation.
Sam exhaled sharply, gathering his thoughts, watching the snapping and
hissing
attacks around him, fended off by his natural defenses.
His mind calmed down and he was thankful for the presence of both his
anchor
and his back-up. Even if his back-up was rather
pissed at the
moment.
Sam scanned the new programs and found a certain
logic
behind them. What their real function was, he had no idea, but they
were hidden
deep within the hybrid device and they were vicious.
Slowly pulling back, he turned to Bumblebee. ::You
okay?:: he asked, using a similar connection to the Autobot as the
Cybertronians did amongst themselves.
::Yes. But this felt like the pulse that
locked down
everything inside us::
::I agree:: Barricade rumbled.
Sam found the other mech studying the
programs he
could see through Sam’s mind’s eye.
::They look like guardians, reprogrammed to
invade any
Cybertronian mind touching it, altering the basic programming::
At Bumblebee’s curious look, he laughed darkly.
::Decepticon scientists came up with a lot
of vicious
little invention to make your lives hell, Autobot. This is like a virus
that
handicaps or completely disables certain functions inside the enemy.::
::Like transformation:: Sam said slowly.
::Yes::
He removed himself completely and blinked, slightly disoriented for a
second –
and not really surprised to find himself cradled by Bumblebee, who was
sitting
on the floor.
“That bad, huh?” he murmured.
Barricade wasn’t even close by, still parked across the room, but Sam
was
pretty much aware of being watched closely. Whatever he might call his
relationship with Barricade, it had morphed from naked fear to
acceptance, to
reluctant might-be-friendship.
“You collapsed,” Ratchet could be heard, sounding disapproving and
worried in
one.
Sam felt the scan and winced a little.
“Apologies,” the medic said immediately.
“S okay. So…?”
“Exhaustion and low blood sugar,” Ratchet told him.
“The usual then.”
“It was risky, Sam. I still disapprove.”
Ratchet knelt down in front of him and handed the young man a large
chocolate
bar.
Sam wondered if he now kept chocolate and other sweets as ‘
repair material’ for Sam in his body.
“Yeah, noted. But now we know a little more.” And he told Ratchet what
he had
seen and felt.
“Interesting,” the medic said slowly. “So if the scientists of Sector
Seven
pulled the information out of Megatron somehow, molded
it with something human-made through Allspark
technology, and created a viral program… we need to devise an
anti-virus. I
would have to reverse-engineer a human hybrid-program.”
Sam shrugged. He had no idea about those kind
of
things. Computer programming was not his forte.
Ratchet tapped a finger against his chin in a very human gesture, then
turned
and walked to his work station. Sam smiled slightly and looked at his
friend.
“Normally I’d say we go for a ride, but as things are… how about a
walk?”
He needed to stretch his legs, work off the exhaustion, and on the way
out he
planned to raid his rather large stock of sweets that would ensure his
blood
sugar level would be back to normal levels soon.
Bumblebee rose. “Of course.”
Sam briefly glanced at Barricade, who didn’t say a word, then
they left the lab area.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the Saleen following until he
veered
off to head for what was probably the recharge units. While he couldn’t
physically drive inside, he could get very close, and that’s where he
stayed. Sam
felt sympathy rise inside him. Jazz was still locked down in recharge
stasis
and until Ratchet found a way to fight the virus, he would remain there.
That had to be tough. As much as Barricade proclaimed he was
independent and
needed no one, as much as he had spent the last millennia physically
separated
from Jazz because of the war, he still needed his partner. Sam didn’t
believe
for a minute that Barricade wanted to be alone any more.
Briefly opening his senses he caught a last glimpse of the Mustang and
found
the bond healthy, though dormant. He cut the connection and chewed on
his lower
lip.
Wish I could help, Sam thought.
But right now all he could do was wait and see what Ratchet came up
with.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Optimus Prime had returned immediately after he had been contacted by
Ratchet
and briefed as to what the situation was, and he had brought Tom Banachek along.
Banachek had been with Sector Seven’s
Advanced
Research Division and had been one the head officers. Unlike most
Sector Seven
commanders and head scientists, he had kept his office, though now
working for
a different branch. He reported to the Secretary of Defence personally,
like
Major Lennox, and he served as a liaison of all sorts. With Sector
Seven
disbanded and all information now in the hands of the Autobots, Banachek was contacted whenever something
unforeseen
happened.
The lock down was unforeseen, so Optimus had taken the former Sector
Seven
commander with him. Prime respected the man and they had had lengthy
conversations about the past, about Sector Seven, about the
experiments, about
their motivations, their hopes and dreams and fears. Prime had come a
long way
in understanding humans throughout those talks. Together with what he
had
learned from Sam, Mikaela,
When the former division head arrived, Ironhide was close to losing his
tenuous
hold on his temper. Major Lennox kept a close eye on the truck and
spent most
of his time with Ironhide, alternatively driving around or just sitting
with
him, doing his own work with a laptop and a lot of patience.
Barricade had set up camp, so to speak, near the recharge units. Sam
involuntarily caught intense bursts being sent from the Saleen and
without
trying to pry, he suspected this was Barricade ‘talking’ to Jazz.
“This is demeaning,” Ironhide could be heard. “Whoever is responsible,
I’ll
turn him into slag!”
Which was not Ironhide’s strong side.
Sam had skipped a lot of classes, which he felt a little guilty about
but
couldn’t help it, and he by now knew the strange little device inside
out. Whoever
had constructed it, whoever had thought it up, he had no clue what it
had been
supposed to do. It contained the vicious little spy programs that would
disable
Cybertronians, but whether it had been a possible weapon or just a
fluke, no
one could tell. Those on
Banachek looked calmer than anyone felt,
but there
were worry lines around his eyes as he looked at the device in question.
“I’ve never seen it before,” he said.
“I feared as much,” Ratchet replied. “It’s not in any of the data files
we
received from Sector Seven and so far no one has ever seen it before.”
Banachek nodded. “There were some obscure
experiments. I know the people involved, but none are still with any
government
groups now. I’ll have to track them down.”
“That might be helpful,” Optimus told him.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Sam felt like a world-class idiot. A loser and a moron and whatever
else he
could think of. Loser was the most fitting, he mused. Months of working
with
Barricade, training his abilities, actually getting somewhere, and the
first
time he used them he was smacked in the face and nearly got lost.
Great. Just great.
Loser was so, so fitting.
Sitting in the back of the huge hangar, he wondered what had gone
wrong. The
virus had turned to attack him and he had lost his nerve. Plain
and simple. Instead of bracing himself and using his shields, he
had
turned tail and run. Without Bumblebee and Barricade he would have lost
and
maybe even drowned. He could be a vegetable now.
Sam groaned to himself.
The sound of rubber on concrete had him stiffen and he turned, looking
into the
darkness. His mind reached out and scanned, something he did
automatically by
now, and found the familiar pulse of Barricade. The black prow nosed
out of the
darkness and the police cruiser stopped not far away.
“What do you want?” Sam asked angrily, feeling strangely challenged by
the
other’s presence.
“You have to ask?” came the level reply.
He gritted his teeth. Of course Barricade would rub his nose in it! Of
course
he would tell him how badly he had failed. Typical.
“I know I failed. I know I was busted the moment that thing attacked
me. You
don’t have to rub it in, okay?” His temper spiked, as usual when it
came to his
technopathy and the lack of control he
showed. He
felt like being back in high school, the kid who had no special talent,
who was
no jock, who was not even really a geek.
There was only the barely audible hum of Barricade’s engine for a very
long
time. Sam hunched over, wishing he could just leave. But he couldn’t.
His place
was with his friends.
“You didn’t fail,” Barricade finally said.
Sam snorted. “Without Bumblebee and you I’d be dead now.”
“Yes,” was the simple answer. “That would
be failure
then. Failure is death, human. You expect too much of yourself.”
Sam stared at him. “I should be able to do this!” he finally argued. “I
can do
it!”
“What you can do is invade a mind you already know. You training never
went any
further because you’re not yet ready. Your mind needs time to evolve
into the
powers it has.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m a technopath.
I can do this. I do it on a regular basis!”
“You don’t fight off enemy programs. Our training was about your
control over
your powers. I never taught you battle techniques.”
Sam clenched his hands into fists. “Maybe we should start then.”
There was a low chuckle. “Maybe we should.”
He shot the Mustang a narrow-eyed look of suspicion. “You’re the one
who told
me I’m nothing but a tool.”
“Which is true.”
“So why aren’t you teaching me the stuff that will eventually make me
the
weapon you claim I am for you. I’m completely useless!”
Barricade rolled almost noiselessly closer. “Because
rushing
you will only result in failure.”
In death, Sam translated.
“Your abilities need to be carefully honed. As long as you get lost in
the
simple task of breaking past my barriers, you are not ready for the
next step.”
The young man refused to rise to the bait. Of course he got lost. The
bond to
Jazz was something that side-tracked him regularly. He had never gone
any
deeper than the surface barriers of Barricade’s mind and he had always
been
caught, but he had learned a lot more discipline in those months than
ever
before.
“You didn’t argue when I said I wanted to try this,” he muttered.
“Would it have stopped you?”
Sam sighed. “No.”
“A futile task, then,” Barricade answered matter-of-factly.
He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Sam wanted to be good, but he was
failing
again and again. Maybe he was setting his goals too high, but… but… why
didn’t
it work? Why wasn’t he getting better at all of this?
“Pushing yourself will result in more failure,” Barricade rumbled. “As
you
humans say, it is a learning process. You were not born with those
abilities. Your
race doesn’t know how to handle this.”
“Neither does yours,” he shot back.
It got him a dark chuckle. “No.”
Sam let his head thump against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “This
is like
back in high school. I’m useless.”
“That is a subjective opinion.”
“And yours is so much better? You think humans are insects!” Sam
snarled. “You
would rather erase us from this planet than cooperate or coexist. You
killed
humans!”
“I can’t deny what happened in my past. I won’t.” Barricade seemed to
study
him. “Opinions can be changed. Not in general, but in particular cases.”
He gazed at the police cruiser. How the hell should he take that
statement? As a compliment?
“Your mutation and your subsequent abilities are nothing you can learn
to
control and handle within months,” Barricade went on, voice almost
emotionless.
“Rushing it will only result in pain.”
“I noticed. I just feel so useless.”
There was a kind of huffing noise coming from the former Decepticon. It
sounded
like a snort; an electronic one.
“You are repeating yourself. It won’t make it better.”
“Not worse. This is as bad as it gets.”
“Is moping a human trait or just yours?”
Barricade
asked pointedly. “You have either been with your Autobot guardian for
too long
or you are even more of an Autobot than I thought.”
“I’m human! I’m not like you!”
“Thank Cybertron for that,” was the dry reply.
Sam stopped, then chuckled a little,
shaking his head.
“Yeah, okay, I get it. Get over it. Go on with my life.”
There was no comment from Barricade.
“I think I should go back,” Sam finally sighed. He got up and looked at
the
black and white car. “You okay?”
He could almost imagine the red optics narrowing.
“Okay, stupid question. Forget it.”
“I am functional, human. That is all that is important right now.”
Sam shrugged. That was as good as it probably got when it came to
Barricade. He
pushed away from the wall and walked past the Saleen, heading for the
common
area. He felt hungry. Maybe the guys from
Barricade followed, the engine a reassuring deep rumble now, and he
only drove
off into a different direction when they had reached the main hangar.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Banachek had tracked down some of
the former Sector Seven scientists, but
either they didn’t know anything or they covered for whoever had worked
on the
device. One woman called it a pet project, something she had seen a
former
colleague tinker around with, but she couldn’t remember who. It was
just a
general description of a man.
“Great,” Optimus muttered.
If mechanical life forms could get headaches, he was closest to one.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get more, but I’m on it, Optimus.”
“It looks like whoever it was, he covered up whatever he did. It makes
me think
he knew what this was… or might be.”
Banachek nodded slowly. “In every organization there are the rogues and
those
who play outside the lines. I know we had them, but Simmons and I
caught a
great many. With the evolution of technology, new and more outrageous
experiments
were taken on. Many were never supervised. The temptation to play
around with
alien technology was too great for some.”
Optimus nodded. “I understand the temptation. Our kind is not so
different. We,
too, have scientists without a conscience, without scruples.”
“Now we don’t know who did what and what he created was supposed to do.
I’m
sorry, Prime.”
The Autobot leader smiled a little. “No apologies needed. We will solve
this
problem.”
“What if it is permanent?”
“I never give up hope, Mr. Banachek. There is always a solution.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Alien sensors, too.
Banachek had worked some real magic in getting the equipment there,
setting it
up and using trusted ex-Sector Seven employees to do what had to be a
nerve-wrecking job. Ironhide had had more than just a small part in the
fine-.tuning of the sensors and the weapons specialist was very proud
of them.
They were looking for Scorponok. The drone had been alive after the
massive
airstrike and he had hidden somewhere, probably licking his wounds, and
without
contact to Blackout or anyone else, he would lay low. Being a drone he
followed
his orders unless told otherwise. With Lennox and his men air-lifted
out of
Banachek thought he was still in
“Anything?” Ironhide rumbled.
“No.”
Ironhide downloaded the same scans and he went over them with different
eyes
than Will did. They actually made a pretty good team in dividing the
evaluation
into mechanoid and human view points.
“You really think he’s still there?”
“It’s possible. If he found a safe place to
regenerate his
damaged parts. If not, he moves whenever he can, never staying
in place
because he’s probably almost defenseless.”
“How long?”
“As long as it takes. His orders were to follow you and erase
your team
because there had to be no witnesses of what Blackout did. He failed,
you hurt
him, he fled. Right now survival is the
only thing he
can think about,” Ironhide explained.
“So he’ll move or he has gone deep underground. Maybe
too
deep for our sensors to find him.”
“Possible.”
Will sighed and leaned against the windscreen, staring at the hangar
ceiling. “If
we find him, what would you do? Kill him?”
Ironhide was silent and
Not even if it was a Decepticon? The very one who had killed his men
and the
people of the
He fought back thoughts of revenge. No, that wouldn’t get him anywhere.
“As long as we haven’t found him,” Ironhide finally said, “we can’t
decide what
to do.”
Will smiled a little. Yeah. No decision today. He closed the laptop and
stayed
on the hood, gazing at the ceiling. It was a nice enough place to be
and he had
found that while the mechanoids were made of metal, it wasn’t any metal
he had
ever touched before. As long as Ironhide let him, he’d stay here. Maybe
in an
hour or two his friend would grow restless enough that they had to take
another
drive.
Until then, this was good.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
“I’m not sure this works,” Ratchet finally reported three days later.
Ironhide snorted. “Just get going, Ratchet. Do whatever you need to do
and
unlock us!”
“We have to be cautious,” the medic began.
“I’m volunteering,” the weapons specialist interrupted. “You ran tests,
it’s as
good as it gets, and I want to be out of this cursed vehicle mode!”
“I understand, Ironhide, but the risk…”
“Is understood. Do it.
Ratchet sighed and caught Optimus’ optics, who only nodded once.
“Do it,” the Autobot leader said.
“Before I volunteer Barricade,” Ironhide added darkly.
“In your dreams, Autobot,” the mech in question growled.
Optimus smiled briefly, then watched as
Ratchet
prepared to inject the anti-virus into Ironhide. As the humans would
say,
‘fingers crossed’.
°°° °°°° °°°° °°°° °°°° °°°° °°°°
Ironhide waited.
Nothing happened.
He felt the same as before, no change at all, and the lock down was
still in
effect.
Ratchet’s pinched look said it all. The blue optics were like glued to
Ironhide, then went to the read-out
monitors.
No change.
“Ironhide?”
“Nothing,” the weapons specialist muttered. “Damnit!”
Ratchet looked actually quite guilty, then
scanned him
again, more deeply. He sighed softly. “It’s no good.”
“I can see that, Ratchet,” was the rumbling reply. “I’m still stuck!”
Ratchet walked back into his work area and
“You okay?” he wanted to know.
“Yeah. Stuck, but okay.”
“Want to go for a drive?”
“I’ve done nothing but drive around lately!” Ironhide complained.
“Keeps the wheels lubed,” Will joked.
“Very funny, Major.”
He opened the door and climbed in. “Where to?” Will asked, aware that
distracting Ironhide for just a few hours would be well worth it. “Movie?”
“Anything that blows something up?”
“I think there’s a new
“Sounds good.”
They left the base.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Sam had retreated to one of the underground storage rooms. It was
easier on his
technopathic minds since tempers were rising among the affected
parties. Ironhide
was furious that there was no solution. He no longer voiced that fury,
but Sam
could sense it. Ratchet was losing himself in his work, barely
surfacing for
more than a moment to try something or other, ask someone a question, then he disappeared again. Bumblebee had opted to
help him,
though he was visibly torn between staying with his charge, who was
exhibiting
signs of stress, and help his people. In the end Sam had told him to
go. The
others needed his help.
So now here he was, in the semi-darkness of Storage One, sitting on a
low
crate. He had discovered that being on his own, with a layer or two of
solid
ground and concrete between him and some seriously upset mechanoids
helped his
brain recover his shields.
His eyes were on the transparent container that held the sole surviving
shard
of the Allspark. Optimus Prime had pulled it out of Megatron’s chest.
Sam had
come to look at it often before. It was something that fascinated him, that drew his technopathic abilities like a
moth to the
flame.
At first it had been scary. Now he used the Allspark shard like a mediation focus device, losing himself in it. Like today.
Letting his mind slip-slide along the link it created to a mechanical
or
electronic object, he forgot the world around him. Anywhere else he
would need
the protection of Bumblebee, but inside the base, in this room, there
was no
danger.
The Allspark. Life-giving
source of all of Cybertron. Ancient.
Older than
any life the Cybertronians had ever met. Older than their planet, which
it had
created. Older than their solar system.
Ancient… so very ancient.
Each molecule of the cube was filled with an incredible energy. It was
pure and
raw and still controlled by the total of what made up the Allspark.
Grooves and whorls and ridges and cracks adorned the outer surface. Resistant to heat and cold, to friction and explosive
charge.
Collisions with asteroids, meteorites and even a whole planet couldn’t
destroy
it.
Indestructible…
But still it had perished at his hands.
Sam moved through the molecular structure and it felt like walking
through a
beautiful landscape. It felt like swimming and flying in one. He could
feel the
warmth of life, the perfection of power, everything that the Allspark
was. Everything…
So much.
Overwhelming.
He focused on part of it, pulling himself together to stop his mind
from
spreading too thin.
Around him, the Allspark pulsed.
So beautiful.
Sam smiled and reached out to touch one of the molecules around him. It
was
like a live wire, but it didn’t shock him or do him harm. It didn’t
hurt. He
was just… everywhere.
He saw the universe and he touched life. Such
incredible
power.
Limitless.
Not dead.
He gasped a little and came closer.
The Allspark was still there. Inside this shard.
Dormant, maybe. Waiting.
Gathering power and strength. Waiting to
be reborn.
He shivered.
But it would take time. Too much of it had been stripped away. It was
like a
tiny seed that would grow again in time.
Sam looked around, trying to find more, delving deeper into this well
of life.
What would trigger the growth? When? How? What could he do to help? Did
the
Allspark need power? And if it returned, would the sparks it had
carried return
as well? Were they here somewhere? Condensed versions of before?
There was a distraction from outside and Sam felt himself drawn to
something
else. It was powerful all on its own. It was wonderful and it was old,
and the
beauty was ethereal.
Sam turned to look at the spark. Yes, it was a spark. He knew it. It
was
familiar.
It was…
Knowledge hit him. Like a wave. Unbidden.
Prime's spark was one of the most powerful energy sources after the
Allspark. It
was incredible. It was…
Sam fell forward, felt it pull him close, felt it envelop him. He
soared
through the mind of the Autobot leader.
Something caught him in gentle, but firm hands. He twisted a little,
not
feeling threatened, but it was uncomfortable.
::Sam:: Prime’s voice whispered.
::Optimus?::
He felt the smile and thought he could see Prime’s presence.
::Stop::
It wasn’t really an order, just a suggestion.
::I’m… oh… sorry…::
He knew he flushed. He had entered Prime’s mind, pulled to it because
the spark
was so close to what the Allspark felt like.
::Your spark…:: he murmured. ::It’s
incredible::
And then he was suddenly outside. Sam blinked into the twilight, his
mind
trying to switch back from seeing the inside of the Allspark to reality.
He was cupped in a large hand, held gently, and it was like the hold
inside
Prime’s mind. Blue optics glowed in the semi-darkness, watching him,
studying
him, and he felt a non-invasive scan. Pulling his shields closer, he
met the
concerned gaze.
“Sorry,” Sam said meekly.
“You did no harm.”
“I… kinda got lost.”
“I noticed.”
Sam frowned. “How?”
Optimus smiled. “I was looking for you and I know you like to come
here. It was
a natural choice to look for you. Are you okay?”
He nodded, warmed by the concern he heard and felt. Sam felt no fear
around the
mechanoids, no apprehension. Even sitting several feet above the ground
on
Prime’s hand, he knew he was safe. His eyes fell on the massive chest
plate,
hyper-aware of the spark behind it.
Protected by an incredibly strong casing that
couldn’t be
breached by conventional weapons. It was transparent,
enabling a
medic to look at the spark but not touch the dangerous but
mind-numbingly
beautiful creation of the Allspark.
If breached, the chamber would leak radiation strong enough to kill
life.
Sam blinked again, aware of Prime’s attention on him.
“Optimus? May I ask you a question?”
The Autobot leader set him carefully down and went down on one knee.
“Yes?”
“When you told me to push the Allspark into your chest… it would have
destroyed
you, your spark, releasing its radiation… it would have… could have
destroyed
my world.”
There was a moment of silence as Prime’s mind whirred and clicked,
though there
was no sound to be heard. Sam just felt the thought processes without
hearing
them. His shields still needed time to recover.
“The Allspark’s energy would have annihilated everything I am and ever
was,
Sam,” Optimus finally answered. “As it annihilated
Megatron’s
spark. The fall out would have simply disappeared. I would never
endanger life like that.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Okay. It was just a thought.”
“I understand. And it was a legit thought. You can feel what we are and
you
just touched me as deeply as you touch Bumblebee.”
Sam blushed. It sounded… intimate. Okay, it was intimate, but not like
a human
would define it. It wasn’t sex. It was… a connection.
His understanding of what Barricade had once told him grew. Alien life,
alien
definitions, alien thought structures… and his human mind tried to
grasp it. He
was getting better at it.
Sam looked at the shard again. Optimus’ optics followed his eyes and he
looked
suddenly serious, almost mournful.
“It’s still there,” Sam heard himself say. “I can feel it grow
stronger. It’s
like… like when you have something really, really small and it needs
time to
grow again.”
The Autobot gave him a surprised look. “You can see it?”
“I can touch it. I like to touch it.” Sam shrugged, feeling embarrassed
at the
confession. “It’s… nice. It’s like I know it and it knows me.”
And it sounded like he had sex with it, a mortified part told him.
His blush deepened.
“Very few, almost no one, of our kind felt the Allspark like you
describe it. You
are special, Sam Witwicky.”
“Yeah. Mutated genes,” the young man replied.
“Even before the Allspark energy changed you, it reacted to you,”
Optimus
reminded him.
“Yeah. Strange, huh?”
“We know nothing about humans, Sam. And your own kind hasn’t
discovered
all there is about your own planet, let alone your bodies. Genetics is
complex,
even for robotic life forms. Ratchet is studying the subject and he is
fascinated.”
“I know.” Sam grinned a little. He sometimes became a test subject.
“Do you want to stay a little longer?” Optimus asked.
Upstairs there was only the normal chaos and he would have to leave the
base to
get complete peace and quiet. Sam was no help when it came to
anti-virus
programs. He wasn’t a computer programmer and he didn’t understand the
subject
matter all too well. Actually, not at all.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
Optimus smiled. “I don’t. I’ll have Bumblebee contact you when Ratchet
is ready
to try again.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Because until then it would be nice to just… relax.
Sam closed his eyes and let himself relax again. He resisted the
temptation to
touch the Allspark technopathically, but it was reassuring to feel its
life.
He hadn’t destroyed it completely. It was still there. And one day it
would
recover.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Sam had gotten good at recognizing
the individual mechanoids by their
electronic emissions, as well as their sparks.
Sam didn’t know how long he had sat in Storage One and let his mind
drift, let
his shields recover, but when Bumblebee stepped carefully inside, he
knew it
must have been a while.
“May I?” his friend asked.
He stretched, smiling. “Hey. Yeah, sure, come in.”
Bumblebee got down on one knee and held out a hand. There was a
super-size pack
of M&Ms in his palm.
Sam laughed out loud. “Gee, thanks. Was it that obvious?”
“No. You were very quiet and Optimus told me you were down here. I
figured
you’d need something sweet after everything.”
“Everything?”
“Ironhide’s temper, Barricade’s tension, Ratchet’s hyperactivity.
I
think all tempers are high and we probably flood you.”
Sam opened the pack and ate some M&Ms. He shrugged. “It’s not bad.
Like a
background noise that rises and falls, but the more you guys are
active, the
more I’m pulled to you. I nearly logged onto Ironhide and I’m not sure
what I
would have done. Barricade’s okay. He’s more controlled. But I didn’t
want to
risk a thing.”
Bumblebee sat down on the ground and the blue optics glowed softly. He
was such
a reassuring sight, Sam almost
automatically anchored
himself in his best friend. It was something they had discovered worked
when
the headaches threatened after too much stress or when Sam had slipped
in his
control again. Bumblebee had never said no and he had not shown any ill
effects
so far.
“You don’t hurt me, Sam,” the Camaro said as if he had heard the
question.
Sam just smiled a little. He tried not to. Sometimes he had glitches
that in
turn resulted in glitches in Bumblebee.
::I wouldn’t be that close if it interfered
with my
functions or inhibited me:: the Autobot told him, using the up-link.
That had freaked Sam at first. This connection that allowed them to
talk like
Sam was a mechanoid as well. Now it was… normal. No one else used it,
though
Optimus had responded to Sam’s mode of communication, too. Sometimes
Sam didn’t
know whether he was talking out loud or not.
::Stop worrying. You are doing just fine::
He leaned into the presence and felt a physical touch as Bumblebee ran
a
calming finger over his back.
“We should go upstairs,” Sam suddenly decided. “I think I’m done
brooding.”
Bumblebee chuckled and got up. They walked side by side, back to the
busy world
above, and with each step Sam felt the presence of the Allspark
diminish. It wasn’t a bad feeling. He could come here whenever he
wanted.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Ironhide was a huge, four-wheeled lump of silent metal.
“You don’t have to baby-sit me,” Ironhide
rumbled
after a while.
“I’m not. For one, you’re not a baby, Ironhide. Two,
while I
sit – on you – I’m not sitting you.”
It got him an amused chuckle. “Funny guy.”
“One of the funniest. Ask Epps.”
“I rather wouldn’t.”
Will smiled and patted the black hood. “How ya
doin’?” he asked.
“How do you think I’m doing?” Ironhide growled, anger worming its way
into his
gruff voice. “I’m stuck in a thrice-damned vehicle mode that leaves me defenseless! I’m a glorified computer on wheels!”
“How do you know? Are you what your people call a psychic?” came the
acid
remark.
“No, but I trust Ratchet. So should you. You’ve known him longer than I
have,
too.”
“I trust him.”
“So?”
Ironhide was silent.
“I’m not good at this,” the truck finally muttered.
“I noticed. So how about we drive around for a bit. You let me take the
wheel
and I’ll continue the driving and drifting lessons.” He smiled.
Will had insisted he had to learn how to handle Ironhide should it be
necessary
that he took control of the vehicle. Ironhide hadn’t seen a situation
where
that might be necessary, but he had finally relented. Bumblebee let Sam
drive,
like Jazz let Epps take him for a spin once in a while. It was fun and
it
showed them the capabilities of their human allies.
Ironhide harrumphed. “”What else is there to do?” he sighed.
“Aside from brooding? Nothing
much.”
“I don’t brood.”
“Much.”
“Shut up,
Will laughed and slid off the hood as the engine came to life. He
climbed into
the driver’s seat and when Ironhide showed no signs of driving off by himself, he put in a gear and carefully pushed
down the
accelerator.
They were going almost top speed just a few seconds later, racing
across the
deserted landscape, chasing tumbleweed and dust.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Sam had learned a lot about Cybertronians and their home planet in the
time he
had stayed and studied at the Autobot base. Ratchet had been only too
happy to
teach the young human, and the others had answered his questions when
he had
asked politely. Sometimes the answers were strange when a human mind
thought
about it, but Sam had learned to think ‘alien’. Not everything a
mechanoid did
could be translated into a human equivalent.
Like recharge, for example. It wasn’t really sleep.
The mechs didn’t need to sleep. It was
like a powered
down version of the active status. They were highly evolved, mechanical
life
forms and while they could go into battle and use up a lot of energy,
they
didn’t just shut down for recharge. They powered down redundant systems
and let
the higher ones quiet down.
“Think of it like dozing for you,” Bumblebee had tried to explain it.
“You see,
I can recharge with solar energy. I don’t need much of your fossil
fuel. But I
need time to transform the solar energy into energy I can use. It’s recharge.”
“So why do you have recharge units?” Sam had asked, perplexed.
“Because when there’s no battle and you have the time on your hand, you
give
yourself a complete time-out. You shut down everything aside from the
core
unit, which in turn gives your main processor the necessary time to let
sub
systems run, check the higher ones, etc. It’s not sleep. We don’t dream
and we
don’t need to process anything in recharge. It’s a matter of having the
luxury
to go into a full system check.”
“That means recharge isn’t exactly always the same.”
Bumblebee nodded. “Exactly. I recharge when
I’m
waiting for you in the parking lot. I clean out caches, I run checks, I update my systems, things like that. I can be
in battle
mode in a second.”
Sam had thought it over and over, trying to find a human concept for it
and had
failed. There was nothing comparable. Humans could go without sleep,
but not
without suffering greatly. Humans could doze, but it wasn’t healthy
never to
enter the deep sleep phases. It was just alien.
How long could a mechanoid go without recharge? Days,
weeks,
months? There was no clear answer for it, Ratchet had explained
to him a
few days later, because a lot of factors played into it, mainly how
much
energon the mechanoid in question was using up. They were able to
convert all
kind of matter into fuel, some better some worse for intake, and some
were
constructed to live off whatever was available. Usually
the
drones.
Energon as such was simply the distilled version of any kind of fuel
source. It
was refined, it was packed with what the
mechanoid
needed in one neat serving. Everything else was like a diluted version.
For the five Cybertronians currently hit by the lock down energon
conversion
rate was different.
Ratchet was working without much of a rest and only came up for a break
when he
had something or other to test. Otherwise he was deeply involved in his
calculations and anti-virus development. Like all, he couldn’t power
down a
single system even for a moment, so after a while it showed. What came
naturally,
even throughout the day, to shut down one routine and let another take
over,
was no longer possible. It was like running on a high non-stop. It used
up
energy.
Ironhide had expended a lot of his energy supply in the first few days.
He had
been and still was frustrated, and it showed in what
Will was a constant with the truck now. He didn’t leave Ironhide out of
his
sight, even slept inside the cab. His men had taken to hanging around,
distracting the mechanoid, keeping him busy as his inability to power
down was
really wearing him down – without ever doing so completely.
“He’s like a junkie on a constant high,” Epps had remarked one morning
when
“Yeah, and it’s not getting better.”
Will was worried. A lot. Ironhide and the
others were
wearing themselves out without having any control over it.
Barricade fared no better. He had relied on Earth fuels ever since the
battle
of
Bumblebee’s solar energy converters helped him more than the others and
now and
then he found himself sharing ‘sun space’ with Barricade, though only
he was
recharging his fuel tanks. Barricade was doing nothing at all. Sam
joined his
friend, shooting Barricade repeated looks, his frown getting deeper and
deeper.
Bumblebee studied the former Decepticon and found tremors racing across
the
Mustang.
“You need to expell energy,” Sam finally
said into
the silence.
It got him no reply.
“Your systems can’t take the constant high, Barricade. You need to get
rid of
energy before you blow something.”
“What do you care?” came the snarled reply.
Bumblebee heard the strain the other was under. Himself
he had used up energy helping out around the base, or letting Sam prod
his
unwilling systems into brief periods of shut-down. The problem was that
whatever Sam did was undone within an hour. The lock down made sure of
it.
Neither mechanoids’ systems ever managed to go into the powered down
state that
was called recharge.
Ironhide outright refused to be ‘touched’ by the technopath.
“You either go for a run or…” Sam stopped and Bumblebee knew what he
had been
about to offer.
::Sam…::
::He needs help. Ironhide has Will and Ratchet exerts himself with
research, as
well as some prodding from Prime. And you and I trust each other. I can
help
you. I want to help him, too. Bee, he did so much for me!::
::It’s risky.::
Sam turned back to the Mustang. “I could help you relieve your systems
at least
for a while, Barricade. If you let me.”
The Saleen was silent, then he rumbled
softly. “I
manage.”
“You’re stubborn!” Sam exploded. “I can help and you know it! It’s not
like I’m
out to kill you or something! You’re our ally! Why is it you always
have to be
such a hard head?”
It got him a rough chuckle. “I know you can help, but your help is
dangerous.”
“I won’t hurt you!”
“Sam is right, Barricade,” Bumblebee entered the conversation. “We
don’t know
how much longer it will be until Ratchet finds a way to help us. You’ll
burn
out if you don’t get rid of the pent-up energy. Your main systems need
to
exhaust themselves. You can’t shut them down, but you can reach a state
where
it’s almost bearable.”
“Why would you care?”
“Because Jazz would kill us if you burned out your processors because
you were
a moron,” Sam stated coldly.
For a moment he felt a flutter of fear, then
the low
chuckle broke the tension. “You are growing quite some backbone, human.”
“And I have a mean left hook,” Sam added, then
took a
step further. ::Trust me not to hurt you,
Barricade::
::What can you do that a race across the desert can’t?:: Barricade
replied,
using the uplink like it was the most natural in the world.
By now it maybe was. Their training sessions had paved a way for this.
::You won’t have to leave Jazz:: he answered
coolly.
A year ago he wouldn’t have said those words. Two years ago he wouldn’t
really
have cared that much about Barricade. But now he knew this mechanoid
and he
knew what lay behind the shields. Not all was just cover. Barricade
truly was
dangerous. He would never make the mistake to think of their
relationship
anything but a respectful alliance.
Sam felt the amusement at his words. ::You
learned::
Thank god he didn’t say ‘grasshopper’, Sam thought, or I’d freak now.
Barricade picking up American TV was so… so… alien, it didn’t really
sit with
him at all.
::Let me?:: he wanted to know instead.
“Sam?” Bumblebee asked, sounding worried.
“It’s okay, Bee. Barricade?”
Sam asked out loud once more.
“I’ll allow you access,” was finally the reply, though Barricade
sounded like
he was chewing glass.
Sam nodded. “Thank
you,” he only
said.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Optimus shook his head.
“Ratchet,” he said quietly.
The medic didn’t react at first, but when Optimus repeated his name, he
turned,
surprised. His optics were burning brightly showing his state. His
systems were
probably close to melting.
“Prime? I didn’t hear you come in…”
“When was the last time you took a break?” the Autobot leader asked.
That got him a frown.
“When did you last bleed off what can’t be expelled?”
“Optimus… I can’t! I’m so close!”
He sounded like the human drug addicts Sam had told Optimus about.
Ratchet
needed to take a break, maybe have Sam help him, or just run a battle
simulation
with either Bumblebee or Optimus himself, though Bumblebee would
benefit from
something like this himself.
“Ratchet, don’t have me make it an order. Please?”
“Optimus… if I take a break now…”
“You’ll see everything with fresh eyes,” Prime told him. “Your energy
high is
preventing your circuits from running smoothly. You know better than
anyone
what this will do to you in the long run – and you’ve been running for
quite a
long time. You need this. Let Bumblebee help. Or Sam.”
The medic looked indecisive, then finally nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
Optimus stayed until his friend actually shut down the screen and rose,
optics
still too bright, and he contacted Bumblebee. It was time to get them
both to
exhaust their systems.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Will Lennox looked like someone who had either spent a long time in the
desert
or hadn’t washed himself for weeks. Actually, it wasn’t either of the
two.
Covered in dust, clothes saturated with dirt, sweaty and
grime-streaked, he
still felt exhilarated and like he could still take on the world.
His team looked no better. Epps was dusting off his pants, which
resulted in
clouds of dirt that settled down on him again, and the others were all
a mix
between dirty, grimy and beyond a washer’s capabilities to clean their
clothes
ever again. Still, everyone looked elated and pleased, with some signs
of
tiredness.
The training course for the unit was outside the Autobot base, a few
miles into
the desert and shielded from prying eyes in several ways. Aerial cover
was
given by several nifty cloaking devices that Ironhide had installed
throughout
the first few days of the team living at the base. Whoever flew across
the
desert would not only see nothing, he would also get a pair of F-22s
from
Nellis on his tail, ordering him to land. Followed by an encounter of
the law.
This area was claimed as military and was off limits.
He ran his men through obstacle courses once a week, gave them
different tasks,
and he was pleased to see that even though they came from different
areas,
units and backgrounds, they had found together as a team. Even those of
Sector
Seven that had joined the ranks were no longer viewed as outsiders. His
men had
quickly accepted them and now there was no difference any more. They
were all
one unit, and this one unit had just given Ironhide and Bumblebee hell.
Lennox grinned.
It was a training exercise as good as any to let his men work off some
steam
and simultaneously help their friends get rid of the energy high their
systems
were experiencing, without actually taking in too much energon. Will
understood
the electronics and physics behind the whole problem and if it helped
to get
them back to a normal level, he was all for it.
Ironhide’s engine rumbled softly, almost a purr, and Lennox thought he
could
feel the exhaustion coming off the large truck. He was pleasantly
docile,
though that wouldn’t last long. His systems would go into that
dangerous high
again and Lennox hoped Ratchet would find something soon. Without the
ability
to power down, the mechanoids would sooner or later burn out.
“Okay, guys, wrap it up and let’s go home!” he yelled at his men, who
were
having a good time.
Bumblebee walked over, optics reflecting the same calmed down status as
Ironhide. “Thank you for the exercise, Will,” he said.
“You’re welcome. It’s better than sitting around the base.”
Ironhide chuckled. “Now add a few Deceptiscum…”
“… and you’d be slagged,” Lennox finished dryly.
“Would not!” the weapons specialist argued.
“You would. Even Frenzy could kick your tailgate. Now keep the
arguments down
and get going. I need a shower,” Lennox ordered.
He smiled as Ironhide rumbled, but didn’t continue the argument. The
truck
opened a door and he hopped in. Bumblebee would walk back. Sam hadn’t
come
along, mostly because he feared he would lose himself with all the
action. He
was still at the base.
Will thought the kid had a too low opinion of himself. He had watched
Sam and
he knew how hard he trained his technopathy. He was getting better and
better,
and maybe this would have been a good exercise for him, too. He would
talk to
him, drag him along the next time.
Ironhide hit a pot hole and jolted the Major out of his thoughts. He
glared at
the dashboard, but it had no effect.
“Feeling okay?” Will asked.
“Restless,” was the surprisingly honest answer.
“We’ll get through this,” Lennox only said.
Ironhide was silent for a moment. “Thank you for your help, Will. I
appreciate
it.”
And he didn’t even sound as if something was about to break inside him
at
having to thank the human for something Ironhide shouldn’t really need
assistance with.
“Hey, that’s what friends do. We help you guys. It’s what we are here
for.”
“And we appreciate it.”
The rest of the drive was spent in silence and Ironhide settled in the
main
hangar as Will and his men walked off to take their showers. Lennox
gave the
dusty hood a friendly pat and smiled. He knew that for next few hours,
Ironhide
would feel the effects, something similar to exhaustion, and he would
be okay. After
that they might have to think of something new to keep the high down.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Sam walked into the medical area and found Ratchet running a simulation
of his
latest anti-virus variation.
“Hey,” he greeted the Autobot. “Any luck?”
“Yes and no. It seems to be working better than the first program. I
need to
make a few more adjustments, though.”
“The others are doing fine,” Sam told Ratchet, watching the medic work,
watching the display of computer programming on the screen. It looked
fascinating, but it wasn’t his forte. “Bumblebee and Ironhide played
some
rounds with Will’s unit. Barricade’s… well, he’s Barricade.”
Ratchet smiled briefly, then entered a few more commands, changing
whatever it
was he was changing. Sam let his mind reach out to the medic’s and
found
Ratchet’s circuits already back on a dangerous high once more. He
frowned.
“I know, Sam,” the Autobot said without turning around.
The young man flushed at being caught. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m just
worried.”
“And I appreciate it, but I can’t stop now.”
“Which is why this is called a high and you’re talking like an addict.”
Blue optics regarded him with a bright glow inside them. “I’m close.
Very
close. It might be just a few more hours.”
“Then at least let me bleed some off,” Sam argued.
Ratchet looked torn, then gave an almost human sigh and nodded. Sam
reached out
again, familiar with Ratchet’s mind already, and he scanned over the
outer
systems, then started to manipulate them as he had Barricade’s, though
with
Ratchet it was slightly more difficult. He had never been deep inside,
had
never touched him like that, and when he was finally done, Sam felt
slightly
disoriented.
A large hand kept him from falling on his butt as his knees refused to
lock and
he gave the medic a grateful smile.
“Don’t overdo it,” Ratchet said quietly. “And thank you.” The bright
glow was
gone from his optics. “I contacted Bumblebee. He’ll be here to take you
somewhere to rest. And eat.”
True to the words, Sam’s guardian appeared no minute later and only
because Sam
wanted some of his dignity intact didn’t Bumblebee carry him. He sank
down on
the couch in the common area, ignoring looks from the two Marines
watching a
game on the big screen TV in the corner, and ate a bunch of Mars bars.
“Overdone it again?”
Sam looked up and rolled his eyes at Lennox, who plopped down in the
comfortable armchair next to Sam’s couch.
“I gave Ratchet a little help.”
“You keep doing that with everyone and you end up a vegetable, kid.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ironhide keeps saying the same when I ask him how he is. I believe him
as much
as I do you.”
Sam frowned. “It was nothing serious.”
“Yeah, but if you try to help everyone, you might go into an overload
yourself,” Lennox pointed out. “Stop looking at me like that,” he added
at
Sam’s narrow-eyed look. “I read the files on you. I know what you can
do. It’s
my job to know. I’m the guy in charge of the human allies working at
the base. That
includes you. And since you developed some super-power, I needed to
know
exactly what you could do and couldn’t.”
“Ratchet?” Sam only sighed.
“And Ironhide. He agrees with me.” Lennox grabbed another chocolate bar
and
tossed it at Sam, who caught it. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s all because we
like
you.”
“Uh-huh.”
Sam’s eyes drifted to the game. He felt rather okay. The momentary
weakness was
gone, but the need to help had remained. He knew he couldn’t fix
everything,
but he could try. As long as any of the mechanoids needed his help, he
would
give it.
::Bumblebee?:: he reached out for his friend.
::I’m good, Sam. Get some rest, enjoy the game::
He smiled, then rolled his eyes as he caught Lennox’s knowing look. He
threw
the wrapper at the Major and the older man grinned.
“Sure. You buying?” Sam teased.
“Even better. I’m personally getting them out of the kitchen.” Lennox
winked.
“Stepanek’s cooking today and the only thing he knows how to make are
hamburgers and hot dogs. Today’s dog day.”
With that he disappeared in the kitchen area. Sam sank deeper into the
comfortable couch and let the game lull him in a little. He knew he
might be
getting more action himself soon, so catching some quiet time was
really a very
good idea.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
The other was former NSA analyst Maggie Madsen. SecDef
Keller himself had made it possible for her to belong to the very
exclusive
team that worked under him and had replaced Sector Seven. She and
Whitman
handled Cybertronian codes like they were nothing but cereal box
quizzes. Banachek had been impressed by
Maggie and he had learned to
ignore Glen’s more childish moments. Each worked with a team, mostly
together,
even though Maggie had never been a good team player. At
least not when she wasn’t in charge.
They had cracked some interesting Sector Seven encryptions from
scientists who
had tried to keep their pet projects to themselves.
“I’ve never seen something like this before,” Maggie now said, her
beautiful
face marred by a frown. “The lock down device is the most complicated
of experiments
we’ve run across and the coding is… strange. Glen’s still wading
through some
of it, but it’s really a rather bad mix of everything, and we’re
surprised it
works.”
She and Glen weren’t at the Autobot base in person. An image on the
screen was
all they had.
“Everyone is,” Banachek murmured, not
happy.
“We sent Ratchet some ideas. Maybe he can work with them.”
“I appreciate your help, Maggie,” Optimus said, the deep voice filled
with
those emotions.
She smiled brightly at him. “We do what we can, Optimus.”
“Thank you.”
°°° °°° °°° °°°
Two days after the first attempt of unlocking their systems, Ratchet
sat in
front of his work station, optics on the read-out on the screen. He had
read
over the code a million times and he knew it had to be the correct one,
but he
had been sure before. And it had been wrong.
Maggie had kept in contact with him almost 24/7 and Glen had sent over
several
revised versions of his anti-virus attempts. Ratchet had incorporated a
lot of
their ideas and he had been glad that they were his so-called sounding
boards.
Steps announced the arrival of one of his friends and he turned,
meeting the
quizzical expression of Bumblebee.
“Sam fell asleep,” the medic answered the unspoken question.
The human had chosen the lab as his retreat – for whatever reason – and
had
buried his nose in his school books. Ratchet had let him be. When Sam
had
fallen asleep he had called Major Lennox and the man had gotten the boy
to bed.
“I know,” the Camaro answered.
Ratchet felt tired and on a high in one. It was the curse of the lock
down and
maybe he had the cure. Just maybe.
“Is that the new code?” Bumblebee asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you tried it?”
Ratchet gave an almost human sigh. “No. I’m not sure it will work.”
“You can’t be sure until you try it, Ratchet.”
“I know.”
Bumblebee studied the code as if he knew exactly what every line meant,
what
ever digit stood for.
“Try it,” he finally said quietly.
And fail again? Ratchet thought darkly. How much did they have until
the first
fatal error occurred? What if one of his friends burned out a vital
circuit?
“Ratchet,” Bumblebee prodded carefully. “Try it. On me, if you want.”
There was no way the medic could run simulations since no one knew
exactly how
the device worked. He couldn’t just take it apart and study it. For
one, it was
too dangerous. He also couldn’t have spared the time. This was a live
experiment. He could only try it out on his friends.
“Ratchet!”
He snapped out of his thoughts and gave Bumblebee an apologetic smile.
“Sorry.”
“I’m volunteering,” the smaller Autobot repeated. “Just give me the
anti-virus
program and we’ll see what happens.”
It might be the only way. Ratchet wasn’t happy about his choices, but
he
nodded, making one.
Bumblebee gave him an encouraging look, then
sat down
on the examination table. He was ready.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Barricade stretched and flexed his claws. Muscle cables uncoiled and
creaking
and cracking noises could be heard. It felt good to be out of vehicle
mode and
his joints thanked him. Next to him, Ironhide completed his first full
transformation from bipedal to car to bipedal again.
Sam looked at the former Decepticon, a question in his eyes. It had
become
rather easy to read the human and Barricade felt slightly disturbed by
it. The
ability to uplink to the technopathic mind
had been
disturbing, too. But that had come with their training sessions and he
had
written it off as just another alien thing he had to accept about this
world
and about this particular human.
Without another word, Barricade left the medical area and walked into
the
recharge chamber. He heard foot steps, aware that Ratchet had followed
him. The
medic was carrying the anti-virus disk.
“Well, to use a human saying: keep your fingers crossed.”
Red optics narrowed and Barricade shot the Autobot a sharp look. “What
are you
saying, Autobot?” he demanded.
“All of us were active when the lock down hit us. Jazz was and still is
in
stasis. It might have had different effects on him.”
A soft hiss escaped the Decepticon. He clenched his hands into fists.
His
systems seemed to fizz for a moment and he was close to hitting
something just
to take the edge off.
“Barricade,” Ratchet said softly. “Even if this anti-virus won’t work
for Jazz,
I will find a way.”
For a moment the black mech looked
startled, then his
face shuttered and he turned his optics on Jazz. Barricade still felt
Jazz’s
connection to him, maybe more acutely than ever. Normally the
connection
between their resonating sparks wasn’t on his conscious mind. It was
just
there. He couldn’t follow Jazz’s trail because of the sensation of the
other
spark. In the past days, though, completely alone with himself, he had
found
that the connection was a lot more complicated and deeper than he had
ever
thought in all the millennia.
Maybe it was his willingness to let Jazz so close after their forced
time
apart. Maybe it was just the evolution of a spark bond. Who knew?
All Barricade wanted was to get his
companion out of
the blasted stasis lock. Everything else… it didn’t really matter right
now.
Ratchet inserted the disc into the recharge chamber, then
began to monitor Jazz. Barricade remained where he was, watching.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Banachek had been relieved, and that was a
mild word
for what he really felt, when he had heard about Ratchet’s success. He
had come a little closer in finding the
scientist whose pet
project had caused so much grief. Still, the suspected perp
was in the wind. He had identified two more projects of the same person
and had
immediately ordered them to be destroyed without prior testing or even
scans.
“We’re most likely looking for Dr. Martin Scheffler,”
he told Optimus Prime as they sat in the Autobot leader’s office. “He
and Dr.
Siobhan Lanser are the only two scientists
we haven’t
tracked down so far, but by now everyone is looking for them. Credit
card
trails are being followed and we have an approximate search area for
Dr.
Lansing. She seems to have gone to
“If you need help,” Optimus said, “we offer
it.”
“Thank you, but this was our fault. I was head of that goddamned
project,
Prime! I know I can’t see and hear and read everything, but one of my
scientists actually created unsanctioned devices.”
“I understand your emotions, Tom, but this is our problem together. We
will
help you if you let us.”
Banachek was silent for a moment, then
nodded. “I’ll
give you what we have.”
“And we’ll let you know what we might find.”
“How are your men?” Banachek wanted to
know after a
nod of thanks.
“Everyone is back to normal except for Jazz. Since he has locked down
in deep
recharge, Ratchet had to modify the anti-virus program. The recharge
unit seems
to have been affected and it’s like a continuous loop, keeping him in
stasis. But
we can solve that problem, too.”
The former research division head was thoughtful for a moment, then looked at the large mechanoid.
“What if you can’t?” he wanted to know, voice level.
“As you humans say, we will cross that bridge when we get there.”
“You lost Jazz once before, Prime, but now you have a Decepticon among
you,
someone who is only an ally because of Jazz.”
Optimus leaned closer to the human on his desk. “We will deal with it
when we
get there, Tom. I won’t speculate about what might happen. And I won’t
put a
guard on Barricade. I trust him.”
“Completely?”
“Yes.”
Banachek was silent for another moment,
slightly
surprised. He had never had a personal encounter with Barricade. Seeing
Megatron break free, nearly taking the secret Hoover Dam facility with
him, and
watching the Decepticons hurt or kill innocents had been enough. That
the
apparently lone survivor of the Decepticons on Earth was now allied
with the
Autobots had left him with a bad taste. So far, in the past years,
nothing had
happened. Probably because of Jazz.
“He is my problem,” Optimus added, making a point. “He is part of my
team.”
Banachek bit back his immediate reply,
reminding
Optimus just who he was talking about. The mech
knew
that best. He had fought Barricade in the past.
“I wish you luck,” he only said.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Hours.
It had taken hours by now and while Ratchet looked not too alarmed at
the time
going by, Barricade was ready to maul something, better yet: tear it
apart into
little pieces, then ground them into dust. Accompanied by screams and pleas and cries of pain.
Someone’s pain. Anyone’s.
Preferably the enemy’s.
Being a hunter, Barricade knew patience, but that patience had been
tested
quite severely the last days. He had been stuck in the accursed vehicle
mode
that rendered him useless in a fight. His joints still ached from being
confined so long.
Leaning against the recharge room’s wall, he watched the motionless
form of
Jazz. It was a familiar form and the resonance he felt coming from the
spark
was more than familiar even. It was part of him. He recognized it
instinctively, whatever Jazz looked on the outside. The protoform
underneath the armor was always the same,
but aside
from two occasions, Barricade had never seen it for long. Adaptation
was
instinctual, too, even on Cybertron, and with the war, armor
had become survival.
He had lost Jazz once before. The Autobot had died. Barricade hadn’t
felt it.
The bond wasn’t like that. He hadn’t even been aware of it until he had
made it
to
Torn apart.
By Megatron himself, as he had found out by listening in to the Autobots..
If the Decepticon leader hadn’t been dead by then, Barricade would have
killed
him with his own hands – aware that it would have cost him his own
life.
All he could do back then was hide, remain in the smoky shadows of the
ruins,
watch the Autobots, watch Prime sadly handle Jazz’s body, and he could
have
screamed out his rage. Back then he had left as quickly as was
stealthily
possible, and he had torn things apart. Memories were sketchy for a
while.
Jazz had come back. It was a miracle and his second chance in one.
And now all he could do was stand back and watch again, helpless and
with
rising fury inside him. Barricade had tried to find out the name of the
human
who had constructed the device that had locked them down. The human Banachek had two likely suspects who were in the
wind and
Barricade would be one interested party who would pursue these leads
relentlessly. He was a hunter. He was patient in that matter. He would
find the
one responsible and terminate his existence.
For now he would stay in the Autobot base, though he felt less than
secure
here, and he would watch over Jazz.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Ironhide was rather aware of Barricade’s presence inside their base,
but he
hadn’t voiced his objection so far. He had passed by the recharge
chamber
twice, once running into Ratchet, who had pulled him along and given
him a
stern look.
“What?” the weapons specialist demanded.
“Leave him alone.”
“I wasn’t going to shoot him or anything!”
It got him another one of those looks. Ironhide grumbled.
“How’s Jazz?”
“No change so far, but the recharge bed is unlocking. It just takes
longer.
Apparently the signal was transferred from Jazz into the recharge unit
and
interlocked them. First I need to unscramble the bed controls, then Jazz will wake all by himself.”
Ironhide looked back into the corridor, frowning. His own experience in
lock
down had had him grumpy for the last twenty-four hours and it was a
miracle
“He’ll be fine, Ironhide.”
“Have you told him that, too?”
Ratchet smiled. “Yes. But given their past and the last time Barricade
lost
Jazz, I understand his tenaciousness in sticking around – despite
animosities.”
The last one was said with a pointed edge.
Ironhide huffed. “I just don’t like Cons hanging around our base.”
“He’s no longer serving Megatron.”
“Once a Con, always a Con.”
“Will you ever cut him some slack?” Ratchet asked, though it
sounded
rhetorically.
“If not for the spark bond, he’d still be the enemy, Ratchet. Being
part of
Jazz doesn’t make him the good guy.”
“No. Neither does being an Autobot.”
With that the medical officer walked down the main hall leading to the
office
area.
Ironhide remained where he was, staring after the retreating form, then
snarled
a Cybertronian curse to himself and went looking for Will. Maybe his
friend
would want to go out on the training range with him. It sounded like a
good way
to get rid of his temper flares.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Blue optics flared.
The silver mech sat up abruptly.
“What?” he exclaimed.
A large hand clamped down on his shoulder and he whipped his head
around,
staring at Ratchet.
“Calm down, Jazz. Let me run a diagnostic first.”
“Five days?” Jazz still blurted. “I was in recharge for five days?!
Tell me
there’s something wrong with one of my subsystems, Ratchet!”
The well-known figure of Barricade stepped closer and the serious
expression in
the dark face had Jazz tense.
“Cade?”
“We had a slight problem,” the former Decepticon said levelly.
“What problem?”
Ratchet straightened from his examination. “I’ll tell you in a moment.
Let me
finish first.” He shot Barricade a warning look.
Barricade’s expression was unreadable, but he complied as well, giving
Ratchet
enough room to work.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
The two mechs were outside the base, at the far end of the cracked
tarmac. Jazz
sat on a low building, letting his legs dangle. Barricade was leaning
against
it.
“Five days,” Jazz muttered. “Man… Longest recharge ever.”
Barricade glanced at him, but he didn’t comment. He hadn’t transformed
back
into vehicle mode for quite a while, and if he did, never for long.
Jazz reached out and let one finger trace along the silver letters on
the white
armor. It had his companion flinch, as if in surprise. Touch was still
something Barricade shied away from. They had never done it excessively
before
and touch was like a battle move for the former Decepticon. Jazz liked
it,
though. It was… nice. Especially with a sensitive armor. Humanity could
teach
even a robotic life form new pleasures.
“Miss me?” he teased softly, though with a sliver of seriousness.
Barricade made a non-committal sound. Jazz grinned. He kept exploring
the
shoulder armament and when Barricade started to actually lean a little
into the
touch, he opened their connection.
It got him a startled electronic whisper, then a glare.
“You’re turning more and more human,” the black mechanoid snarled.
“And that it bad?”
“You’re not human.”
“I know.”
“We do not require what they do.”
Jazz tilted his head. “But we can enjoy some things.”
Silence.
“Just… go with the flow, Cade,” Jazz said softly, almost pleading.
Because he knew it was needed. Their bond was evolving. It was
something he had
noticed. They had never spent so much time together before, never been
so
close. Their sparks had bonded before the war, and then back then it
had been
very experimental. And throughout the war they had been on different
sides. Every
encounter had been quick and filled with fear of discovery.
Here on Earth it was different. They could finally be who they were.
Barricade
refused to show it, refused to let down his shields except when they
were
alone. Jazz on the other hand was only too happy with everything. This
was
their second chance. He would use it.
“Stop watching human soaps,” Barricade now rumbled, but he didn’t pull
away
again.
“You learn a lot about someone’s culture with it,” Jazz replied with a
grin.
“It melts your processors.”
“In a good way.”
Barricade rumbled a little.
Jazz smiled more, enjoying their closeness. He knew that none of the
others
could understand it, least of all Ironhide, but they all knew about
resonating
sparks and spark bonds. They respected it. The only one who actually
did
understand what this was, was a human called Sam Witwicky.
And in a way he was developing something similar with Bumblebee.
Jazz smirked to himself.
Now there was a new way of interspecies relationships.
“What?” Barricade growled.
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“That can be dangerous for you.”
Jazz bumped his leg into the black mechanoid’s side. “Bastard. And I
wasn’t
thinking about you or us. I just thought that Sam and Bumblebee are
pretty much
developing something like a spark bond. The boy is logging on to him,
like we
can with each other.”
Barricade frowned a little. “He has no spark.”
“No. But he’s not a normal human any more either.”
“What is a normal human?”
Jazz shrugged. “Don’t know. But no other human was ever touched by the
Allspark
like this. Ratchet said he’s changed genetically.”
“Is he still a human then?”
A good question. What was the definition of a human being? And did that
definition apply to genetics, too?
“How can an organic being bond with a robotic life form?” Barricade
asked
pointedly. “Only our sparks bond. Our bodies, even our protoforms, have
nothing
to do with it. For humans, it is all about physical relationships.
There will
never be a physical relationship.”
“Maybe. And maybe that’s not important, Cade..”
It got Jazz a Look.
“Like you said, there’s no imperative to procreate. This is about a
different
level of friendship. Like us,” Jazz added.
Still no reply, but Barricade didn’t mock him either. Jazz knew the
other mech
respected Sam for his courage in fighting Megatron and the others in
Mission
City, and he had protected him in the past. It was his way of showing
respect.
He would continue to do so, in his own way, and Jazz sometimes felt
little
slivers of pride.
“Hey, I know you spent five days in vehicle mode, but wanna go
somewhere?” the
Solstice changed topics.
Red optics narrowed. “Where?”
“Dunno. Open road, no speed limit, just having fun.” Jazz slid down
from the
building. “How about it?”
Barricade looked at him for a long second, then a smile appeared on his
features.
They were off not a minute later.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Somewhere else, Sam was reclining on Bumblebee’s hood like he had done
so often
before. It was a nice feeling. Not like lying on a normal car’s hood at
all. Bumblebee’s
skin was metal, but none ever to be found on this planet. The alloy was
alien.
And it felt smoother. Warmer. Like skin should.
His friends were all right again. The Sector Seven device had been
taken apart
by Ratchet and Banachek and then destroyed. There was no reason to keep
it,
even in parts. It was too dangerous, that they all agreed upon. The
search for
the brain behind it was still on-going, but they might never find the
person
who had thought it up. Ratchet was busy going through all boxes and
comparing
their contents with the data files. Everything not to be found on the
lists was
immediately placed into high security storage. Ironhide made sure of
that.
Optimus was still debating on whether he would allow any of his men, or
even
Sam, to take a look at the unregistered experiments. It was too
dangerous. For
all of them. Even a technopath could be injured by the electronics and
mechanics of such wild experiments.
“I’m going home this weekend,” Sam said into the comfortable and mutual
silence
between them.
Bumblebee didn’t say anything.
“I think I should talk to my parents.”
“About your technopathy?” his friend asked softly.
Sam nodded. He had kept it all a secret and it was harder and harder to
do so. He
was afraid of what his parents would say, think and do. He would never
leave
his friends, least of all Bumblebee, but they were his parents. Family.
The young man sat up, legs crossed under him. His eyes were on the
horizon. It
was a cloudy day and the forecast had threatened with rain. So far, no
rain.
“They are your parents, Sam. They won’t judge you,” Bumblebee told him.
“I’m not afraid of that.”
“You think they won’t allow you to have contact with us?”
A silent nod.
“They are my parents,” Sam finally said. “I love them. But I love you
guys,
too. I owe you a lot and you’re my best friend, Bee. I don’t want to
give you
up and I know I won’t.”
And he would be torn between his family and his friends. He would never
be able
to choose because he belonged in both worlds, now more than ever.
“You can’t speculate on their reactions,” Bumblebee pointed out.
“Unless you
tell them, you will never know what they would do. ‘What if’ won’t
help.”
Sam sighed deeply and slid off the hood. “Yeah. I hate this.”
“You’ll be fine,” the mech insisted and opened the door. “Let’s get
back to the
base. I’m sure Ratchet has some really interesting toys to distract you
with.”
Sam chuckled. He couldn’t resist playing around with the different
devices and
it was a distraction. In two days he was going home and he was finally
at a
point where his resolve wouldn’t shatter on the way to Tranquility and
another
weekend of lies and obfuscation awaited.
Things would be fine, he kept telling himself. His parents would
understand.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Judy Witwicky looked at her husband Ron,
whose expression probably matched
hers. It was one of disbelief, shock and annoyance. The disbelief was
about
what their son had told them. It sounded like sci-fi. Then again, giant
alien
robots, able to transform into cars and planes had been sci-fi, too.
But they
existed and Ron had actually bought one of them for Sam. The shock was
the
result of the disbelief, but the annoyance was about the fact that Sam
had kept
what had happened to him a secret.
Why? They knew so much already. About the
transforming
aliens, about the war, about their son being the hero and saving the
whole
planet from some maniac called Megatron. They had been told
about
everything and they had digested it all. A lot had made sense.
Judy had been a bit… hesitant, to put it mildly, to approach the Camaro
afterwards. She hadn’t seen the transformations, but having the
Secretary of Defense telling you about
this made it no joke. So she and
Ron had met Bumblebee when they had been reunited with Sam. A
bruised and battered and dirty Sam, with torn or badly singed clothes,
a Sam
who had been shell-shocked at first. Their
son, the
hero.
And he had continued as if nothing had ever changed. With a girl-friend
and a
car that was actually an alien life form.
Judy had to confess she had been frightened of Bumblebee at first. It
had been
the size and the whole concept of a sentient alien life form this big,
but in
the past two years Bumblebee had become part of the family. He was
wonderful in
her eyes. Warm and caring and, as he had told
them, Sam’s
guardian. She trusted him.
The others she had met when Sam had taken them to the Autobot base. It
had been
amazing and frightening and awe-inspiring and terrifying in so many
ways. Bumblebee
had been big, but Optimus Prime had been gigantic. The Autobot leader
had
exuded an incredible steadiness, had talked to them like equals, had promised them to protect their son and that
no harm
would come to him at their hands.
Now he had mutated genes.
Judy swallowed a little and chased the dark thoughts away. It wasn’t
the
Autobots’ fault. Not really.
“Judy?” her husband asked softly.
She looked at him, saw the same indecision
in his eyes
that she felt.
And her eyes were on the empty chair Sam had just recently sat in,
trying to
explain what had happened, what he could do, what this meant. Not that
anyone
really knew that for real.
Telepathy. Concerning
machines.
It was so unbelievable. Their son… was now even more special.
And he had jumped up and ran upstairs, probably holing up in his room.
Judy rose and walked to the window. The Camaro was parked out front.
“He’s our son, Ron,” she finally said. “We love him. He’s still Sam.
He’s not
someone else now.”
“I know.”
She turned on her heels and resolutely walked up the stairs. Sam was
her child,
her baby. She had given birth to him, raised him, watched
him grow into the young man he was. He would be an engineer one day. He
got
fantastic grades. He had friends who were a little different from what
she had
expected, but then even his best friend since first grade, Miles, had
never
been really that normal.
Sam had never been a jock. He had never made it into the football team.
He was
smart, though. He had saved a whole planet because of his smarts and
his
courage and because of his determination.
Judy softly knocked onto the closed door and then opened it slowly. Sam
sat on
his bed, legs pulled up, looking at her
like he was
haunted by his own words.
“Honey,” she said softly and walked over to him sitting down on the
bed. “You
should have told us sooner.”
Sam looked away.
“We are your parents. We love you. We want to know about what happens
to you,
what bothers you. And we noticed something had changed for a while. I
thought
it was the change from high school to college. Your dad thought it was
because
of Mikaela.”
“Yeah, well…” Sam shrugged. “It was that, too.”
She reached out and rubbed gently over one jeans-clad leg. “I’m glad
you told
us now.”
“You’re not angry?”
“A little bit. And a little bit disappointed that
you waited
so long.”
There was movement and Ron stepped into the room as well. Judy could
see her
husband was still chewing at everything.
“So the DVD player and the microwave?” he asked.
Sam nodded, ducking his head a little.
“The neighborhood power outage?”
Another nod.
“I got it under control around household items and simple machines,”
Sam said
softly, repeating what he had told them downstairs. “And I’m learning
with
Bumblebee’s help not to invade their systems by accident.”
“You could do that?” Judy wanted to know.
Another nod. “I don’t want to hurt them.
Sometimes… in
the past… it happened by accident. I got better. A
lot
better.”
She exchanged a look with her husband, not really that surprised to see
her
thoughts reflected in his eyes. The Autobots knew Sam could hurt them
and still
they stuck around. Bumblebee was always there for him. A true
guardian.
“Mom? Dad? I…
it’s really not
their fault,” Sam blurted. “They didn’t cause me any harm and no one
could have
known. I won’t turn my back on them!”
Judy was a bit thunderstruck. Suddenly she understood where the fear
had come
from. Not just because they, as the parents would be angry, but also
from Sam’s
worry that they might not let him be around the Autobots any more.
“Oh honey…” she said softly. “Why would you think that?”
“It’s all because of the Allspark…”
“And nothing can be changed now. I’m more angry about you keeping this
a secret
for so long, son,” Ron added, trying to sound stern, but he couldn’t
really
pull it off.
“Sorry, Dad. Mom.”
Judy pulled her son into a motherly embrace and kissed his head. “Just
tell us
everything from now on. Please?”
He nodded against her shoulder.
“And I think we should talk to this Dr. Keyron,
as
well as Optimus,” Ron added.
Judy gave him a brief smile and he mirrored it. They would get through
this,
like they had gotten through tough spots before, though nothing had
ever been
as fantastic as this.
No sacrifice, no victory, she thought. The
Witwicky motto.
It had never been so true as in the last
two and a
half years.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Ron Witwicky had listened to his son, had watched his face, his
expressions,
and he had seen him suffer from worry and fear as he told his story. It
was incredible
and he had wanted to yell at him for being such a stubborn idiot, but
his
wife’s look had silenced him. She always looked at him like that. It
was her
‘he’s your son, Ron, so shut up. You’re just like
him’ look.
So now his son was a technopath. Not just
the savior of the planet, a hero, and
friends with a bunch of
aliens who were giant robots, but he had been changed as well. Not by
the
aliens but by what he had done.
Walking down the path through his garden, he stopped next to the sleek,
yellow
Camaro. It was already getting dark and his Sam had fallen asleep. His
wife was
puttering around the house, something she did whenever she was thinking
something out. Ron preferred his garden.
But right now he wanted to talk to someone else. Someone
who
was his son’s best friend – and actually not from this planet.
“Bumblebee?” he asked, voice soft. “May I
talk to
you?”
It always paid to be respectful.
The car door opened. Of course Ron hadn’t expected Bumblebee to
transform. So
he sat down on the passenger seat.
“What do you want to talk about, Ron?” Bumblebee asked.
“Oh, don’t give me that. You know what. Sam.”
There was a moment of silence. “He told you everything that happened.
What do
you want to know from me?”
Ron gestured weakly. “Whatever he didn’t tell me. You know him. He said
so. He
said you two trained. Tell me how he really is, Bumblebee.”
“Sam is fine, just like he said. He has his abilities under control.”
“I’m not talking about control. I’m talking about… him. How is he?”
Bumblebee was silent and Ron almost heard processors whirr and click.
When the
Autobot finally spoke, it was a soft voice, a thoughtful and worried
and caring
voice. It was the voice of a friend, of someone who suffered with his
son.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Sam woke in the middle of the night and he lay in bed, staring at the
ceiling. He
wasn’t really tired any more, but he wasn’t all that awake either.
He had finally told his parents the truth.
They had taken it better than he had thought.
Getting out of bed, he walked over to the window and looked outside. He
couldn’t see Bumblebee from here, but he sensed his presence, like he
always
did.
::Bee?:: he probed, careful in case he was
in a
powered-down state.
::I’m here, Sam::
He leaned against the window frame and sighed. ::Went
better than I thought:: he said, almost to himself.
::I think it went very well. Your father
came to talk
to
::He did? About?::
::You.
Now that sounded weird. Because it conjured up images Sam didn’t want
to
contemplate.
::Your father tried to understand what
happened and I
tried to help:: Bumblebee added. ::I think
your
parents are very supportive::
::Yeah::
Sam yawned.
::You should sleep, Sam:
::I know. Just so much on my mind::
::Do you want to go for a drive?::
Sam felt a smile cross his lips. ::Sure::
He grabbed his shoes and snuck out the door. Bumblebee’s engine ran in
what Sam
had dubbed ‘silent mode’ as he pulled out into the night.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
There was no such thing as a Peterbilt
sneaking down the road. There was no hiding a huge truck with flames on
the
side. Especially in a neighborhood
like the Witwicky’s. So when
Optimus Prime
parked across the street from the Witwicky home, Ron wondered where the
mechanoids had their sense of disguise and keeping a low profile from.
This
wasn’t hiding, this was drawing attention!
Thankfully it was already dark.
“Is that…?” Judy started.
Ron sighed. “Yes. I’ll see what he wants.”
It’s not like Optimus couldn’t have called him, told him to meet him
somewhere.
No, he had to come here. Walking across the dark street, he was
surprised to
hear the door open with a soft click.
“I would like to talk to you, Ron,” the Autobot leader said, voice very
low and
quiet.
“You could have called.”
“I prefer a personal meeting.”
“You draw attention, Prime.”
“I know. It’s why I chose nightfall.”
Ron shrugged and climbed into the cab. The door closed almost
noiselessly.
“We can hide ourselves,” the mechanoid said. “As long as I sit still, a
temporary camouflage shield hides my obvious presence. It requires a
lot of
energy, so we usually only employ it in special situations.”
“Like now. Okay. So, what do you want to
talk about.”
“You son.”
“Sam?”
“My data on you shows you have only one child.”
Ron wondered if that was humor or just
alien logic.
“Yes, I have. So you want to talk about my son Sam?”
“He told you what happened.”
Ron was silent for a moment, then nodded. “He was changed by the
radiation of
the Allspark.”
“I came to apologize for what happened, Ron.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he replied, slightly confused.
“We gave the Allspark to Sam. We
endangered him. I
didn’t realize that the radiation was so dangerous to a human being. I
never
would have allowed this to happen if I had known.”
Ron gazed at the dash, silent. “Sam’s alive. He survived something
terrible and
he came out in one piece. That he has changed… I can’t say I’m happy
about it. But
he’s still our son. We can’t change him back. He’s not deathly ill.
He’s not a
different person. He’s still Sam.”
“I’m glad you are his parents,” Prime said quietly. “He needs your
acceptance.”
“He has it.”
“Thank you.”
“Sam’s special now,” Ron said in an equally quiet voice. “But
he’s still
our son and he was always special to us. Meeting you guys changed him, let him grow up in a way I never would have
imagined. He
has plans for the future now, he wants to become an engineer, work with
you. I’m
proud of him. So is Judy. He has an additional gift now.”
“His gift has already helped us in various ways,” Optimus told him.
“I’m honored to have him as an ally and as
a friend.”
Ron nodded and opened the door. “Thank you for looking out for him,
Optimus
Prime.”
He slipped from the cab and stepped back as the massive truck started
his engine.
“Thank you for your acceptance,” Optimus answered.
°°°° °°°° °°°°
Ron watched the truck roll down the street. Judy came out to meet him,
giving
him a quizzical look. He smiled and wrapped an arm around his wife.
“Let’s go inside,” he only said.
Then they could talk.
About the Autobots, about Sam, about the future.
end of Lock Down