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Serendipity	By : AkashaEmily Category: S through Z > Transformers (Movie Only) > Transformers (Movie Only) Views: 5248 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters of the Transformers franchise as well as the franchise itself are licensed and owned by Hasbro. I do this for entertainment purposes only and do not profit AT ALL- monetarily or otherwise- from the writting of these stories.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer:
I do not own �Transformers.� All recognizable
characters of the Transformers franchise as well as the franchise itself are
licensed and owned by Hasbro. I own nothing and make absolutely no profit-
monetarily or otherwise- from the posting of this story in any way, shape or
form.

A/N: I just want to say before anyone
gets offended (if anyone gets offended) I have nothing against Honduras but I
think that, if this were real life, N.E.S.T. would consist and coordinate
through the larger global powers. As far as I am aware, Central America, while
a political power in its own right, does not play a large role in the grand
scheme of things. I think that, in a situation like this, where an organization
that doesn�t officially exist suddenly lands in your backward to conduct an operation
that they won�t tell you about to fight something else that technically doesn�t
exist, a smaller country may use the opportunity to make a very loud, very
clear point. The specific locations actually identified in the story are chosen
mostly for geological features as part of the plot, not because the author is
making a statement about something greater happening- or not happening- on the
world stage.�

If you like the story, please review. They keep me
going.

Serendipity
Chapter Five

Bumblebee couldn�t concentrate
beyond the rage burning in his spark and Jolt seemed to sense this since the
electricity manipulator was keeping a wary distance between them as the pair
continued their surveillance of the small dilapidated farm in the valley below
the hill they lay hidden against. The urgent message Ratchet had sent them felt
seared into the scout�s processor, haunting him, making him restless and
impatient as he lay in wait to spring the trap they set up to capture Skywarp once
the teleporter returned for Scavenger.
Sam had been hit by a car and
Skywarp had him.
Come Unicron
himself, Bumblebee would not fail Sam again and so he waited, forcing himself
to be still even when every nanite of his frame vibrated
with tension.
::Do
you think she knows his side tried to blow up the sun?::
Jolt asked over
the radio, optics focused on Scavenger as the Decepticon wandered around the
yard, a human female perched on his shoulder and a large bovine following in
the mech�s wake. It was quite a sight and the fact that
Scavenger seemed to be having a conversation with the human was� well, very unDecepticon-like. ::And why isn�t he trying to squish her?::
Bumblebee rolled one shoulder
assembly, optics never leaving the Decepticon, audio sensors barely registering
the angry tone in the voice of the N.E.S.T. soldier assigned to be the liaison
between their operation and the Honduran military forces. The scout only
actively began paying attention once the soldier, cursing vehemently, slammed
the satellite phone back in its holder with enough force that a regular phone�s
casing would have cracked under.
�The Honduran government is
taking a �Just say no� approach.� The soldier, an American named Grant,
growled.
��Just say no?�� Jolt repeated, a
lilt in his voice making it a question, even as he looked the phrase up on the
internet. �Are they being pressured to consume narcotics by peers?�
Grant stared at the blue Autobot
then did one of those long, slow blinks humans were fond of performing when
they encountered a situation that required additional seconds of thought to
fully process. The familiar gesture tore into the yellow scout�s spark; it was
a habit Sam had, one he�d shown often after Mission City when Bumblebee, still
adjusting to life on Earth, had asked complex questions about human behavior
and culture.
�Uh,� Grant shook his head
slightly then continued on in a much more confident tone. �No,
not exactly. I meant that the Honduran government is simply refusing to
cooperate in any way. They�re trying to make this into an international
incident as payback for our refusal to provide intel about both our organization and mission. Because
of internal conflict, they aren�t major players on the political power stage
and they are really, really pissed about being left out of the whole Decepticon
threat issue.�
Before Jolt could ask another
question, a N.E.S.T. soldier named Williams spoke up,
awkwardly sidling through the tall grass closer to the little group on his
knees and elbows. �How badly are their knickers in a twist?�
Grant thought about that for a
moment. �They�re trying to turn this into their version of the Falklands war.��
��Bloody Hell!� Williams hissed, eyes wide until he blinked and looked through his
binoculars at the Decepticon.
�Yup, but that�s not the worst of
it.� Grant nodded, expression grim as he pointed at
the hilltop. �They want us out of here, like now, like right-this-very-second
now. They are sending in their military to go Biblical on this area whether
we�re here or not. If they come back to salt what�s left after they blow it to
Kingdom Come I won�t be surprised. They want to make a statement- �Don�t fuck
with us because we are bad-ass motherfuckers.��
If they killed the Decepticon,
there was a high probability that Sam would never be recovered. Spark twisting
in on itself in its chamber, Bumblebee never thought he�d ever hoping for such
a thing but he found himself praying fervently to Primus that Skywarp appeared
before the Honduran military arrived.

��
In
a world that existed outside the realms of space and time, life and death, one
lone human teenager was fighting a losing battle against twelve well-meaning
Primes.
�Improvements? What do you mean, �improvements?�� Sam asked, voice dripping with suspicion as he eyed the
Primes warily. They had already had the requisite preliminary conversation
demanded by his current situation, the �Oh my God I died again!� one and were
now moving on to dubiously more interesting conversation subjects. He shifted
his footing absently, his toes curling nervously, and was forcibly reminded
that he was standing in someone�s hand when the metal shifted, the cool pieces
of plating catching his skin painfully. With a yelp, Sam yanked his foot away,
shifting his weight and hopping up and down on his other foot as he began
checking the damage of the injured one. Primes or not, these beings had had
very little contact with humans and Sam was forcibly reminded of how damn pampered
he was by the Autobots in comparison.
�We are augmenting some of the
abilities the Allspark granted you,� One of the Primes, the one Sam strongly
suspected they had elected group leader, said. It was the same Prime that had
greeted the human during Sam�s first visit here and had been doing most of the
talking during his current one while the other Primes remained predominantly
silent except to clarify certain points. As if being stared at by looming
massive aliens weren�t weird enough, the remaining Primes seemed to find some
genuine fascination with Sam�s presence and the teenager found himself having
to constantly force down the urge to snarl at them to stop fucking touching him!
As if summoned by the thought,
a� long spindly finger began stroking his
head lightly in what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting or apologetic
gesture but it only made him angry. It reminded Sam strongly of how he would
try to sooth Mojo after accidentally stepping on the
Chihuahua�s tail or how his mother would baby Frankie after some perceived
injury. Sam was human, damn it, not a fucking animal, and he jerked his head
out of reach each time the stroking attempted to resume.
�The ones you currently have will
be insufficient and you will need the upgrades in the near future.� The Prime
added, almost like an afterthought.
Sam was so not liking where this conversation
was going. Though he put considerable effort into ignoring this fact, he knew
that the Allspark had changed him in ways he probably would never understand.
This unfortunate reality had been made all too clear during the events that led
up to and during the battle in Egypt. What he had told Optimus on the aircraft
carrier was true; the symbols that had made him borderline psychotic were
indeed gone but other things had taken their place. His ability to retain
complex information had grown exponentially- probably the main reason how he
had made it into a school as prestigious as Princeton- as well as the annoying
habit of taking things apart and suddenly being able to empathize� or something
with his alien friends. The last had nearly triggered a mental breakdown at
Diego Garcia for both himself and Optimus and Sam subsequently had had to flee
the company of his Autobot friends which was not helpful when there was a
homicidal machine out there somewhere gunning for his ass.
�Augmenting how?� He asked, not
bothering to hide the irritated tone in his voice. Glancing down first, Sam
gingerly set his foot back down on the Prime�s sparse palm plating and, beating
back the urge to twitch, looked back up at the lead Prime as someone stroked a
digit down the teenager�s spine. �Because, you know, if you think there�s
someone more deserving of them, then I totally understand if, you know, you
need to take them away or something.�
�It was hard to tell but Sam was fairly certain
that the look the leading Prime gave him was reproachful and the wave of vague
disappointment- the only slip of emotion he�d had from the Primes- that rolled
over him only helped solidify the idea. Guilt tried to surface and the teenager
ruthlessly suppressed it- he was not going to feel bad just because he wanted
to have some semblance of normalcy, damn it�
The memory of Optimus telling him
to run as Megatron speared him through the chest abruptly roared to life,
making Sam shutter so violently that he had to sit down before he fell down. It
was a potent reminder of what had happened the last time he�d tried for a
normal life and, feeling ill, Sam took shallow breaths as he swallowed back his
sudden nausea.
It was time to grow up and face
reality, he told himself, and whether he asked for it or not- whether he wanted
it or not- this was his life now, giant kickass robots and world saving
adventures and all. If he really had wanted a normal life, he realized with
sudden clarity, then he should have bowed out after
the Mission City battle. He should have said good bye to the Autobots, even
Bumblebee, packed his things and moved to another area to go live a quiet life off
the grid and under the radar of anyone and everyone. As it had at the time and
since, that option had been unthinkable, as undeniable as the awe and wonder
that filled him every time he saw the Autobots that had seemingly adopted him
as family. Give up the Autobots? Turn his back on an alien culture that
considered him important even though they talked to the freaking Secretary of Defense on a regular basis,
who, by all rights, had to be much more intelligent on most matters than a
lowly high school junior?
He was sure that some part of him
would wither away and die shortly thereafter if Sam did. It would be like
giving up a part of himself, something pure and raw that was absolutely
essential to who he now was. It would require a strength
of willpower beyond what he had and Sam couldn�t imagine what his world would
be like if the Autobots vanished from his life� But that�s what normal life
was- go to school, go to college, get a job, get married, continue the family
line, die. No Decepticons, no running for his life, true, but no awesome
kick-ass guardian, no trigger happy Clint Eastwood quoting weapon�s teacher, no
misanthrope doctor, no second father-like figure, no military barbeques with
those in the know, no rubbing elbows with the SecDef.
His life would be normal and, though normal was safe,
it would also be incredibly dull now that he had seen beyond his limited world
view to what his life could be, danger and all.
In a blinding epiphany, Sam
realized that weirdness was just going to have to be part of the Autobot package
and that in turn meant that what he had considered normal simply wasn�t going
to happen ever again if he refused to give them up. Not for him, not for
Mikaela, not for their children if they ever got married and had any. The
knowledge of the Cybertronians� existence was, for lack of a better analogy, a
double edged sword- it would at times separate him from the rest of humanity
but at the same time he was a part of something so much more, so much greater
than himself even if his role was minor and unimportant at best - and there
were some people out there who would commit heinous acts in a heartbeat to
trade lives with him. He was blessed, Sam thought with a strange mix of
trepidation and excitement, and he should not squander the experience.
�Normal life� may have been the
safe option, the known path, but if �normal life� equaled no Autobots, then Sam
didn�t want any part of it.
As Miles would say, normal was
overrated anyway.
�We know we have asked a lot of
you,� Another Prime said, gaining Sam�s attention as he stepped into the
teenager�s line of sight and leaned close, the multiple spike-like fins on
either side of its conical head fanning gently. This one had not spoken until
now and in contrast to the booming voice of the first Prime, its voice was
softer, gentler, though no less confident. �And we regret having to do so again
when you have already given so much, youngling.�
Practically swamping the teenager
with the sincerity pouring off him, the new Prime extended a long, talon-like
finger toward Sam. Warily, the teenager grasped it and found himself
being pulled gently to his feet, clinging to it as a peculiar sensation of something warm bloomed in his chest, making him
wobble dangerously.
�What�s happening?� Sam hated how
tiny his voice was, how unsure he sounded. He soothed his ego with the
knowledge that anyone sane in his position would react the same way to fifty
something foot tall robots messing with their body. �What are you doing?�
The warmth was spreading, moving like
liquid from the region around his heart out to his shoulders, to his hips,
trickling into his hands and feet and making them tingle in a way that would
have been pleasant if acid-like fear hadn�t been following in its wake. Reflexively,
he clung tighter to the Prime�s talon who responded with placid calm, picking
the teenager up and placing Sam in his palm.
With a voice that was thin and
reed-like, another Prime spoke from somewhere behind Sam. �Guardians have been
chosen for you and they will keep you safe as you carry out your mission.�
The warmth was in his head now,
and he shook it in an attempt to chase away the sensation as he spoke, having
trouble focusing on the words. �I already have a guardian, Bumblebee. Don�t
want another one. Don�t need another
one.�
�Bumblebee will be ill equipped
to help you in your task.� The same Prime said dismissively. �As would any
other Autobot.�
It took a few moments for that to
sink in and when it did, a shock of ice cold fear made Sam shiver
uncontrollably, and he backed away from the Primes until he was in the center
of the giant palm, feeling betrayed and trapped. He wrapped his arms around
himself, growing panic making him feel faint. They were going to make a Decepticon his guardian?� �Are you nuts?!�
�One has already accepted, though
he doesn�t know it, and through him you will gain two more.� A new voice, one
that reminded Sam of his Astronomy professor, said blandly, blatantly
disregarding Sam�s fear as something beneath notice. �They will keep you safe
as you help Lord Megatron reclaim his title.�
I
was hit by a car, Sam
reminded himself, feeling the skin around his eye sockets stretch in shock to
the point that he was surprised his eyeballs didn�t fall out. I was hit by a car and suffered massive
brain damage. Or an aneurysm. Or� something else
that�s making my brain malfunction because there is no way he just said what I
think he just said. �Huh?�
�Megatron is finally free of our
brother�s influence,� The Prime who held Sam explained in its gentle voice.
�But he will need your guidance��
�NO!� The word seemed to explode
out of Sam with a vehemence that was stunning in its conviction. Holy shit!
They were serious!? Live among Decepticons? Help Megatron?! �What Megatron NEEDS is a fucking hole in the head
and a trip to a smelter No! Hell no!�
In response to his outburst, the
Primes froze in place. Sam remained silent, familiar with the odd behavior
since the Autobots had a tendency to do the same thing when discussions had hit
a snag of some sort. Sam liked to think of it as the Cybertronian equivalent of
the �deer in the headlights� look and he�d seen Optimus and the others do it
fairly regularly, especially after the Mission City battle, usually in response
to a human cultural component or concept that didn�t translate well, like sex
or personal space to a species that really didn�t have either. During these
instances, the Autobot held absolutely still in a way that no human ever could,
as if afraid to move and risk making an offensive gesture while they tried to
understand the issue. You would think that the abrupt cessation of movement
wouldn�t be terribly troubling to an observing human, but to the humans who
worked with the Cybertronians, who knew that they were not mere machines, it
was incredibly disconcerting. The Autobots had worked very hard to behave in
recognizably human ways but the freezing thing only served to undermine all
their work, making them seem more alien, more other, and Sam had had to work hard to explain the problem before
Optimus had gotten it. As far as Sam knew, they were still working on stopping
themselves from doing it but habits, especially ones ingrained over millennia,
were hard to break.
With little to no actual contact
with his species, Sam doubted the Primes were going to bother playing human.
Defiantly, Sam glared hard at the
nearest Prime�s chest plate in an attempt to ignore the rising tide of panic
inside him. The Primes may think they knew the best course of action for the
future but being sent to the Decepticons would be a death sentence for Sam- a
very messy one he was sure- and there was no way in hell that he was dying a
second time by Megatron�s hand. He wasn�t going and they couldn�t make him so,
ancient and wise or not, the Primes could just suck it if they didn�t like it.
Rubbing his chest awkwardly as
the warmth continued to invade his body and willing himself to calm down, Sam
sat down on the palm of the gentle voiced Prime to wait, his left hand idly
drifting up to finger the mark inked into the skin of his upper arm. To say
that after his ill-fated visit to Diego Garcia, Sam had been left emotionally
reeling would have been an understatement of gigantic proportions but, when all
was said and done, the teenager had wanted some sort of physical connection to
the Autobots, a symbol that he still counted himself in their corner even if he
couldn�t work up the nerve to return to their base. He didn�t want it to be
flashy or too attention getting, just something subtle that he and a select few
would understand the meaning of, and, once he finally figured out how to do it,
Sam had done the preparation work with an enthusiasm that should have scared
the daylights out of him.
The tattoo shop had had walls
lined with more designs than the teenager would have thought existed, most of
which made him stare, caught between admiring the artwork for its beauty and
horror at the content of the image depicted. There were flowers and animals,
skulls and crosses, the faces of famous people both alive and dead, eyes,
unique magical themed tattoos, hearts and bands that ranged in design from
simple barbwire to complicated Celtic knots that made Sam�s eyes hurt trying to
follow all the threads, scenic images that were peaceful and some that had to
have come from a serial killer�s art class. And all of that was just a handful
of what Sam saw as he crossed the short distance from the door to the counter,
a folded piece of notebook paper in one hand and his ID in the other. The clerk
behind the desk was well groomed and, aside from the black muscle tee he wore
and the nose piercing, looked like he belonged more in a grocery store than a
tattoo parlor at least until he turned around to lead Sam to an unoccupied
chair further in, intentionally (or unintentionally) displaying the multitude
of tattoos covering his back, the images peeking out around the shirt�s fabric
as they flowed into one another seamlessly.
�
After the first few bites of the
tiny ink filled needles, the stabbing pain had became a slow burning, as if the
tattoo artist was using a lighter to brand him instead of the usual tool. To
distract himself from it and to keep from squirming, Sam had considered the
strong similarity between the work station and his former dentist�s office- except
for color, the chairs were identical, the movable lamps were almost the same
though the tattoo artist�s one wasn�t as glaringly bright, and the tray holding
the instruments nearby was the same. The familiarity was unexpectedly soothing
in the otherwise foreign environment, enough so that Sam could almost forget
that he was technically mutilating his flesh and watch with curiosity as a
balding, leather clad male that could looked as if he could bench-press a truck
practically threw himself into the chair of the open workstation in front of
Sam�s and sobbed, the sound quickly swallowed up by the buzzing of the
tattooing needle.
Sam didn�t know what to make of
that but he didn�t want to jump to any conclusions either so he shifted his
gaze away to allow the illusion of privacy to settle into place and stared at
the mirrored ceiling until his artist told Sam he was done. Bandage in place,
Sam had fussed with his rolled shirt sleeve, listening with half an ear to the
care instructions his artist was telling him. As they passed by the other
occupied workstation, Sam had peeked inside, nodding solemnly when he
accidentally caught the other�s eye. The man had been holding a picture, the
edge he tightly gripped creased and worried in a way that suggested he�d done
it many times before, and Sam realized immediately that the little brunette
haired girl in the photo had to be the man�s daughter. There were dates at the
top of the picture and that struck Sam as odd because his mother had always
printed dates on the back� Oh.
Sam abruptly stopped as the
pieces fell into place. It wasn�t a photograph the man was holding but a
memorial card and suddenly the full color tattoo of the little girl being
etched into his skin took on a whole other meaning.
�I�m sorry.� The phrase slipped
out and the moment it left his mouth, Sam wanted to take it back because it
sounded so pathetic and incredibly inadequate. Bumblebee had told him that
different cultures had multiple ways to apologize, that there was a specific
phrase that expressed a specific level of regret and Sam hadn�t appreciated
that fact until the aftermath of the battle in Egypt. The English language only
had one catch-all phrase to use when a speaker wanted to express that they felt
bad about something and, until then, that had been perfectly fine for Sam until
now and he felt frustration gnaw at him because there wasn�t a damn thing he
could do about it.
The man�s lips had pressed
together tightly, his face flushing and making the tear tracks stand out all
the more but, just as Sam prepared himself for a barrage of angry words, the
man relaxed, looking wan and tired and grief filled. He had nodded at Sam but
his eyes were on the memorial card as his thumb smoothed carefully over the
face of his daughter.
Sam had had nightmares that
night, a mish-mashed jumble of some of his worst memories from Mission City and
Egypt and somehow the man�s daughter kept popping up in all the worst roles,
shrieking that her death was Sam�s fault, that it was all his fault...! It was a bad way to start the day and it simply went
downhill from there once Leo had opened the door to leave and had had a pile of
hate mail spill over his feet. The other male had groused and kicked the lot
inside to deal with later, making disparaging comments about ninja mailmen
before slamming the door behind him only to open it again a second later and
stare at the door where some bastard had painted �MURDERER� across the wood in
the middle of the night.
Needless to say, Sam hadn�t gone
to class that day, had instead stayed in the dorm to scrub the door clean and
study. ��
�Samuel?� He looked up,
recognizing the voice of the Prime who held him, and felt his anxiety and guilt
melt away under a fog of emotion that he knew wasn�t his own. It wrapped around
him, insulating him, and the more he fought to free himself, the less progress
he made to do so. The worst part was that, after a few seconds, most of him
didn�t want to fight it anymore, just
wanted to bask in the unshakable belief pouring off the Prime that everything
was going to be alright� But that only served to make Sam fight all that much
harder against it, mentally packing everything he had against it, kicking,
punching, lashing out in any way he could, feeling the curious sense of his
body moving even though he remained still in the Prime�s grasp. The sensation
of his body moving, of the reminder that he could move, reinforced his efforts,
giving him more power to drive the Prime�s influence out of his head. It wasn�t
real and what he felt wasn�t his will- it was false, foreign, and he denied it
with everything he had but, just as he was making some headway, just as he had
almost forced the fog out of his head, his physical self stopped responding to
his commands. The lack of movement seemed to cripple his ability to defend
himself and his concentrate slipped away, dribbling through his fingers like
water until there was nothing to protect him as the Prime�s will rolled right
back in.
Sam had thought that, like the
Autobots, the Primes fought for the forces of good, that they were a protective
presence that respected and acknowledged sentient life. He had thought that the
Fallen was an aberration, the fluke that every group seemed to have, but as
images/sensations/thoughts that weren�t his own began flooding into his mind,
part of him wondered if his assumption had been wrong from the very start. This
certainly didn�t feel very protective or respectful and Sam certainly didn�t
feel acknowledged at all as
information continued to be forced into his head, making it ache until he was
sure it would explode at any second. He couldn�t move and he couldn�t speak but
he knew they could hear him screaming for them to stopstopstopGodSTOP but they
continued anyway and Sam could do nothing to stop it, just as he couldn�t stop
the flashbacks that were being triggered in response to the casual manhandling.
Dimly he could feel them petting him but, unlike before, there was too much
pressure behind the touch and very quickly pain was added to the mix as their
talons sank into his body, scoring his form with complex patterns that burned
in a way his tattoo never had.
He should never have worried
about the Decepticons killing him- the Primes were going to do it themselves
and even if they didn�t, Sam doubted he�d be sane enough to carry out whatever
mission they had for him afterward. Or maybe that was the whole point, that, since
Sam had refused to cooperate, they were essentially reformatting his brain and
installing a new personality, one that would be more obedient. A puppet that
would do their bidding without question, one who would act like Samuel James
Witwicky, would look like Samuel James Witwicky, but would not be Samuel James
Witwicky. It would be a robot� a Sam robot�
A Sambot.
It took a disgusting amount of
effort to process that thought to the end and when Sam finally did, he
screamed, wordlessly, nearly incoherent with terror as he prayed for someone to
pleasepleaseplease
make the Primes stop-
And then, mercifully, someone did
by snagging his hand and pulling him from the Primes� domain.

Skywarp and Onslaught vanished
from the cold of Russia and reappeared in the considerably warmer climate of
Scavenger�s location.
�Where
are we?� Onslaught
asked, immediately scanning their surroundings no doubt searching for hostiles,
taking in the Constructicon�s scrap metal �artwork,� the barn, Melosa who mooed
at them, the cement mixer to their left and the dry soil beneath their pedes.
Skywarp appreciated the latter because as his power and fuel levels dipped
considerably it suddenly felt as if his pedes weren�t going to hold him. His
HUD a mass of angry red error messages, the teleporter wobbled unsteadily and the
Seeker sagged heavily against the Combatacon�s squat, solid frame, practically
draping himself over the other�s shoulders.
��Nacaome,
Honduras, Central America.�
Skywarp said thinly after looking up what the geographic area was referred to
by Earth�s inhabitants as Onslaught easily took the Seeker�s additional weight.
Silently cursing to himself as his ventilation fans
began to whine loudly, red-lining, Skywarp brought up his internal systems
display and dialed back his heating settings. To prevent both his internals and
Sam from being harmed by the freezing cold while fetching the Combatacon,
Skywarp had automatically boosted his internal temperature but now that he was
in a warm climate, the mechanism was working against him, putting him in danger
of overheating. It didn�t help that his power plant was suddenly adding to the
problem by fritzing out for no apparent reason
either, generating more heat but less power for his systems to use. �Here for Scavenger.�
�There
you are!� As if
summoned by his name, Scavenger exited the barn, the cargo container held in
his humanoid hand and Alicia sitting in his shovel-like one. �You�re late! After giving me that time
limit it�s not fair that you�re late! Mixmaster and I should get another
container- Oh, hi Onslaught! So �Warp went to get you�� Scavenger came to a
stop in front of them and set down the cargo container next to the cement
mixer, nearly folding double as he lean forward until he blocked Skywarp�s
optical field. �Hey, �Warp, you don�t
look so good.�
�Low on fuel.� The tactician explained, visor
never wavering from the hill in the distance it was centered on as he comm.�d Skywarp. ::Mixmaster? Didn�t he die in Egypt?::
Scavenger�s optics winked out
briefly as he shuttered them. �Oh. No
problem then. Hold on a sec and I�ll get you some then we can all head out.�
:Yes. Scavenger is not
taking the termination well.:: Skywarp answered distractedly,
feeling his processor stall as he stared at the excavator incredulously. Fuel? Scavenger had fuel?
�You have some?�
Scavenger shrugged, holding his
shovel appendage out to the Seeker, Alicia sliding easily into Skywarp�s
waiting palm. �Yeah. I mean, it�s not
perfect or anything but your frame should be able to process it without
problems.�
�Hello Skywarp!� Alicia called,
using a hand to shade her eyes as she peered up at him, waving with her free
hand before shifting her attention to Onslaught who continued to ignore them
all. �Hello Skywarp�s companion.�
�Oh, that�s Onslaught. He�s, ah,
quiet.� Scavenger said awkwardly, labial plates turning down into an expression
of displeasure as the Combatacon�s focus remained elsewhere. �Anyway, Skywarp�s
hungry. Wanna keep �em company while I go get him a
snack?�
Before she could reply, he was
already striding away and disappearing into the barn.
�Did he make it?� Skywarp asked
the human as he set her on his shoulder assembly near his head, the tactile
sensors of his armor registering the sensation of her small hand grasping his
audio finial to keep herself steady.
�The fuel?� Alicia asked before shaking her
head. �No, he came with it to the farm. One excavator and
many barrels of some sort of liquid. It�s still the talk of the town
about how the port officials nearly had heart attacks after the barrels
vanished, worried about hazardous waste dumping in the area. They do armed patrols
out here occasionally, looking for dump sites.�
�How often do they do those
patrols?� Onslaught asked suddenly, startling both the Seeker and the human.
Skywarp didn�t question why the Combatacon knew the local language, simply
assuming that downloading it as part of the usual preparation rituals Onslaught
always preformed when entering hostile territory. It wouldn�t surprise the
teleporter in the least if the tactician had a translation file for every
recorded human language stored in his processor. Onslaught was notorious for
planning and preparing for every mission eventuality.
Skywarp suddenly had a very, very
bad feeling and he forced his pedes to take his weight, straightening though he
kept a firm grip of Onslaught just in case. If forced, he�d be able to move but
if he hoped to do anything more than stumble around, he needed Scavenger to
hurry the Pit up.
�Onslaught,� Alicia peered at the
Combatacon curiously from under Skywarp�s chin. �What is your occupation, if it�s
not classified, that is?�
�Tactician and
team leader�Ma�am.�
The short Decepticon answered with neither pride nor contempt but he did turn
to look at her, cocking his head. �Are you aware you have a parasite?�
Alicia smiled widely at him and
put a hand on her belly, patting it lightly. �Yes. His name is David, thank you
for asking.�
�She�s gonna be a mommy.� Skywarp
snickered despite himself. �Humans reproduce sexually and they carry the
offspring internally.�
Onslaught turned his head away to
look at the hill again. ::Internally?::
::Yup! They have a special organ that basically acts like a
pod as the baby- a human sparkling- develops to maturity.::
The Combatacon turned his head
until Skywarp�s optics were reflected in his visor and
the pair stared at one another intensely, worlds of meaning being exchanged.
::�Hope it works,
�Warp.::
Onslaught sent at length then did a visual sweep of the area.
��Got it!� Scavenger
called, walking carefully so as not to spill the sloshing contents of the
barrel he clutched. �It�s oral intake
only� �Warp- you�re shaking!�
He was right, slag it. The Seeker
took the proffered barrel and felt his labial plates twist in disgust as his optics
focused on it since it had to be of considerable low quality if he had to
run the liquid through his entire internal refinery. Still fuel was fuel and, after
priming the system, he drank the concoction, swallowing hurriedly against the
immediate reaction to spit it out. If possible, he felt even worse as he shakily
set the barrel on the ground but his refinery hummed away as it did its job,
converting the fuel into something his frame could manage since his HUD began
to clear of the low fuel and power warnings. His power plant was still giving
him errors but at least Skywarp wasn�t in immediate danger of going into
involuntary stasis.
Onslaught abruptly reached out
and grabbed Scavenger, jerking him closer to them so hard the excavator nearly
tripped over his own pedes. ::We have multiple contacts closing in on us, including
Autobots. We need to leave .::
But even as he nodded in
agreement, Skywarp had his optics on the barn behind Scavenger, was thinking
about the fuel the Constructicon had managed to horde here. No it wasn�t the
best quality, but it was fuel, real, usable fuel
and the more he thought about it the less he could stand the thought of simply
leaving it here! The Autobots would never let it go once they found the cache
and more sparklings would die and Skywarp would have to make sure Starscream
didn�t terminate himself when the grief got to be too much for the Air
Commander�s spark to bear.�
That fuel meant that most of
their problems were solved and it was right there, not half a klik away from
where he stood. Skywarp couldn�t leave the fuel behind, he couldn�t!
�Do we have time to move the fuel
out here?� The Seeker demanded suddenly, carefully grasping Alicia and handing
her to Scavenger. His processor was in overdrive, trying to calculate how much
energy he would need to teleport the weight of three mechs and so much fuel.
An alert popped up on his HUD
about Sam, informing Skywarp that the electrical output of the human�s brain
had increased significantly, raising Sam�s oxygen consumption and metabolic
rate. Skywarp was suddenly inundated with reports on the human, irregularities
and movements and the subsequent strain on the pod�s systems they were causing
as well as a report noting the measures instituted to compensate for it all.
And then, abruptly, an alert appeared in response to the detection of a spark
in the human, something that wasn�t even possible, Primus curse it! Frustrated
with what the Seeker deemed unimportant and false information, convinced that
the whole mess was a glitch or electrical short, Skywarp simply canceled all
the alerts and simply manually triggered the pod�s refresh cycle, this time
adding an injection of a sedative into the mix. Skywarp ignored the resulting warning
alerts and the red-highlighted video that appeared in the corner of his HUD of
Sam�s thrashing body abruptly ceasing movement and dismissed the subsequent
report, thoughts fixed solely on transporting Scavenger�s fuel. ��
Onslaught stared at him but
answered anyway. �No. Moving them into the open would only make them targets
during the bombardment.�
Slag. �Scavenger, show me where the
rest of it is. That fuel comes with us.�
Scavenger tilted his head, facial
plates twisting into an expression of confusion. �But you�ve already seen
them��
Skywarp looked at the blue barrel
by his pedes and finally realized where he�d seen it before. �The mosaic��
The one that
took up the entire wall of the slagging barn.
The Seeker resisted the urge to
scream in frustration because even on a full tank there was no way that Skywarp
would be able to take the whole barn and the other Decepticons all the way to
Mars-
Ping.
Skywarp barely
had time to register the soft sound of the projectile hitting his helm as several
things seemed to happen simultaneously.
The humans hiding along the
valley�s walls opened fire on the trio of mechs, the bullets bouncing off their
armor and doing very little damage. Scavenger practically leapt on Skywarp, the
Constructicon clumsily grabbing Alicia and clutching her to his chassis
protectively as he abruptly turned and ran with her into the barn, Melosa
mooing anxiously in their wake. The Autobot scouts Jolt and Bumblebee moved out
from their position and began firing in short bursts at the humans- no, Skywarp
corrected himself after a moment of observation, firing in the area on either
side of the humans, making the attack on the Decepticons cease as the humans
turned on the new threat. Onslaught fired into the scuffle, using his ballistic
missiles to take out sections of the valley wall above the human�s hiding
spots, creating avalanches of dirt that buried the humans and the Autobots.
The silence that abruptly
descended was oddly deafening and Skywarp�s peripheral sensors easily detected
the incoming missile barrage, the ground exploding into deadly plumes of debris
that got closer and closer to their position. The Seeker was already moving,
his HUD tracking the trajectory of the incoming bombs and plotting a safe
course through them, his capacitors and power plant humming as his systems primed.
Skywarp grabbed Onslaught without thought and ran for the barn, uncaring that
he fouled the Combatacon�s shot at the two Autobots suddenly tearing down the
valley�s walls right for them. Onslaught snarled at him, his infamous temper
appearing, but Skywarp ignored it and threw the other through the barn doors
into the building, the tumbling piles of Scavenger�s junk quickly burying the
short Decepticon.
Skywarp stretched a hand upward
and wrapped it around the upper most support beam of the barn as his other hand
moved out until it touched one of the barrels, his HUD already cluttered by his
pre-warp check list as he fed information into his teleportation algorithms,
altering the code as needed when the equation was refused, expanding the
parameters, circumventing the safety restrictions.
�Hold on to me!� The Seeker commanded, his engines cycling on as he
boosted his power output, bolts of energy sparking into existence and dancing
over his frame.
Onslaught hand wrapped around his
ankle as Scavenger grabbed hold of Skywarp�s nearest wing, denting the metal as
his grip tightened just as something warm and organic pressed itself against
the Seeker�s leg.
The image of Melosa the cow
crowding against him appeared on his HUD and his targeting system automatically
hunted for the other organic life form he�d become acquainted with and finding
Alicia clinging to Scavenger�s audio finial, reeking of stress hormones and
fear.
Both of them would explode once
he rematerialized at the base.
Slag
it! �Toss them out!� Skywarp ordered,
elaborating when Scavenger just looked at him. �Throw Melosa and Alicia outside!�
�They�ll
be killed!� Scavenger
said, outraged, his grip on Skywarp�s wing tightening painfully. �They�ll be shot!�
�The
Autobots won�t shoot them!�
The Seeker yelled in frustration even as a plasma blast took out a chunk of the
far wall. Someone was really, really fragged off out there.
�They
fired on those other humans!�
Primus don�t let Starscream
find her! �Put Alicia in!� Skywarp popped the latches on
his cockpit, the amber glass sliding open in invitation. �She�ll be safe inside when we reappear.�
�Whadda mean, she�ll be safe? Where are we going?� But even as the excavator
questioned him, he was deftly placing Alicia into the pilot�s chair and urging
her to buckle up. When she was secured, the amber glass closed, locking,
Skywarp�s ventilation fans cycling on and pulling in as much air as possible.
It wouldn�t last for long and as the Seeker automated her need for oxygen into
his primary systems, Skywarp decided that, if worst came to worst, Sam would
have to share the liquid oxygen substitute.
�Mars.� Skywarp said, electrical charge
spreading up his forearms and over the wood of the barn as it shuddered
ominously, threatening to buckle as something slammed into the side of the
construction.
Scavenger balked, rearing back
before thrusting his facial plates into the Seeker�s. �What about Melosa?! She�ll die!�
Chest plate locks popping open
loudly, Onslaught grabbed the animal with his free hand and placed it inside
the revealed compartment, the hiss of air alerting them that it was sealed
air-tight once the plating slide back into place. �Can we go now?�
Despite the situation, Skywarp
grinned and stopped forcibly retarding his teleportation systems. �Yeah, we can go now.�
�He�d set his teleportation field beyond its
maximum, having to customize it so that when he jumped, Skywarp would be taking
the whole barn. Onslaught began clicking quietly as the field shimmered into
view, expanding exponentially around them and the structure, bolts of blue
electricity swarming over the surface, making the air crackle in preparation.
Here
goes nothing. Destination
locked in, Skywarp triggered the jump, ignoring the flood of critical error
reports and warnings that blocked out his visual field, telling him that he was
exceeding his power output, that the massive field was consuming too much
power. He had to try, had to make it work because their very future as a
species was at stake!
But it wasn�t going to be enough-
he was putting all the power he could into activating the jump and beyond the
flashy lightshow nothing was happening!
At least until the Autobot pair
crashed through the wall on his right side. A burning plasma blast to his chest
made Skywarp teeter backwards but the whip that wrapped around his arm jerked
him forward again even as high voltage current blew the fine servos in the
joints of his legs, locking him in place. Scavenger pulled him back upright,
acting as support even as Onslaught, hidden by the mess on the floor, fired
several shots, blowing Bumblebee back outside as Jolt sent another electrical
burst through the whip into Skywarp.�
Systems began shorting out, the
wiring and fuses overloaded as the jet sucked up the extra energy. The
appendage protesting, Skywarp forced himself to grip the whip and gave it a
hard tug, earning himself another, higher powered zap to absorb, diverting the
energy to his teleportation systems to make that final push through to their destination. His visual field and audio feed
blanked out and he felt himself sag under the strain of trying to move all that
mass, his turbines firing on in a stress response, pulling in more air to cool
his internals as pain tried to overload his cortex, fluid lines rupturing,
secondary systems shutting down so that the primary ones could keep
functioning. But he kept pushing, forcing the displacement, the pressure of the
process building beyond his frame�s capacity, stretched out into an endless
eternity of prolonged torture as the world bucked and quaked, shuddering in stubborn resistance...
In that suspended moment, Skywarp
thought he could feel someone screaming in agony, the presence familiar yet not
as it reached his spark. Teleporting always made the bond he shared with his
Trine mates sharper but strained, allowing clear flashes of emotion but with no
identity or context associated with it, and, thinking it was one of them in
distress, he reached out through the bond, grasping blindly, sending as much
comfort and reassurance as he was capable of even as he felt his own internals
failing.
Though he couldn�t hear it, he
knew the exact moment they landed on Mars because all that pressure abruptly released, the lack of the crushing grip a new kind of pain
all its own. Hands grabbed at him as suddenly everything pitched sideways, an
avalanche of debris bouncing off his armor as the metal buckled under the
weight of the two large shapes sandwiching him between them, protecting him as
something large and irregular landed on top of them.
I
did it, Skywarp
thought, a tiny drop of pride spurting through him even as the stasis lock
countdown engaged. I got the fuel so now
the sparklings�ll be okay� Oh, I gotta
tell �Screamer� �bout the... the�
He managed to send the data burst
before the countdown hit the end of its tally and the relief that washed through
him when notification came that it had been received a nanoklik
later was the last emotion Skywarp knew for quite some time.
- 4
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