Disclaimer: Anyways, I don't own anything from the Transformers franchise, be it characters, movie/cartoon plot, setting, and/or other fictional elements.
Shut Up and Drive!
1
There comes a day in every guy's life when he has to sit back and ponder, Am I that good of a friend to do such a bizarre favor? For Miles Lfffancaster, that day had definitely arrived. He had always been pretty sure that if Sam was ever in trouble— real, life-threatening trouble— Miles would be right there to help his buddy out. Now, sitting frozen in his desk chair, listening to his best friend rant like a madman, Miles had to ask himself: Am I that kind of friend?
"Miles buddy," Sam spoke quickly, like he always did when he was in stressful situation. In the background Miles could hear the throaty chorus of diesel engines. "I'm down to my last quarter, so I need you to listen to me very carefully. I need a favor."
Miles frowned. "Dude, what's the matter?" His friend had gone on a road trip with what's-her-face Mikaela to Eastern were supposed to be visiting relatives, do a little sightseeing, and were due home before spring break ended. Miles' first thought was, Damn, they're having car trouble.
"What's the matter?" Sam retorted. "I'll tell you what the matter is: We're stranded in the hairy armpit of nowhere, my carjust had a mechanical meltdown, we had to get towed into town by a log truck, and we just barely escaped a Decepticon ambush!"
Okay, Miles thought, scratching his head. I was sort of right.
"Wait, Decepticons? What?"
"Forget it," said Sam. "Listen, what I'm about say is going to sound totally nuts, but you're the only person I trust with this, and I need this favor. It's a matter of life and death, okay?"
He sounded serious, and kind of desperate. What else could Miles say but, "Um, okay?"
Sam took a breath. "Right, so I need to you to go find someone for me. His name is Reggie Simmons. He's an ex-government agent. His family owns a diner downtown on 59th and Barley Street. You got that? 59th and Barley Street. Just look for a big rusty sign with the name, Do-or-Dine."
Miles frowned, confused. This sounded as absurd as the nonsense Sam had spewed about the infamous 'Satan's Camero.' Funny, because afterward taking that trip to Mission City to get the car 'revamped,' he didn't seem bothered by it any more.
"Whoa, dude, slow down," Miles said, sitting forward in his chair. He clicked out of the computer game he had been playing. "All Spark? Starscream? Optimus? What is going on?" He paused. "Where's Mikaela? Did she like brainwash you or something?"
"Brainwash…No, I'm not brainwashed. Will you focus? This could easily into a turn into a life and death situation here. Life and Death, Miles. Go to Simmons, tell him you got information about the All Spark, and that you have to talk to Optimus. He'll take it from there."
Miles ignored him. "Ever since you started dating that hoe, you've been saying weird things."
Miles couldn't help his irritation. He was cool with Sam dating a gorgeous girl like Mikaela, even if they didn't always get along, but honestly, she was all Sam talked about. Whenever they hung out, it was always 'Mikaela can do this, and Mikaela said that, and isn't she incredible Miles?' Man, whatever happened to the spring breaks filled with videogames and zombie movies?
Miles could almost hear Sam rolling his eyes. "She is not a hoe, Miles," he said lowly, probably so Mikaela wouldn't hear. "Don't ever talk about her like that. But seriously, this is probably the most important thing you'll ever do in your life."
"Dude, what kind of trouble are you in? Where are you?"
"I think we're somewhere near Redmond— oh, wait, scratch that we're in some hell-hole called Sisters. Listen, I need you to give Optimus a message for me. Tell him that Starscream also found a fragment of the Cube. There was a second piece lodged in Megatron's chest, and now it's rebuilding itself from scratch. I don't know how or why, but unless he wants to deal with two All Sparks he better—"
"You not kidding about this, are you?" Miles asked, falling back into his chair.
"Bro, listen to the sound of my voice— okay, you listening? Does it sound like I'm kidding?" Well, no, but the context was utterly unorthodox. "Good, I didn't think so. This is probably the very last thing I would ever kid about. You'll do this for me, won't you?"
Miles stared searchingly at the carpet, as if the answer to this new predicament was written in its split-pea green fibers. Even if the likelihood of anything being true was rather small, Miles wished Sam would just tell him what was going on.
Even if I want to help, he thought, transportation is an issue. For one, I'm broke, and Dad would never let me drive the Datsun.
"I don't know if I can," Miles said finally. "I mean, I don't have a car—"
"Easy, you can take a bus. I'll pay you back threefold, I swear."
Miles opened his mouth to say no, but then he thought about Sam stranded in the middle of rural Oregon, where the population consisted more of cattle, trees, and sagebrush than people. He sighed, feeling guilty. "Sure, I'll think of something."
"Thanks." Sam sounded relieved. "I appreciate it."
Miles shrugged. "Yeah, well, buy me lunch sometime and we'll call it even," he said. "I'll have my cell phone, so just you know, keep me updated okay?"
"Right, thanks again."
It wasn't until after the conversation ended with a click that Miles pulled up directions to the diner's location on Google-maps. "That jerk," he muttered. "That's all the way across town. What does he expect me to do? Walk?"
Sitting in his chair, Miles thought his options. He hated public transportation, and while His mother had a car, she was at work and her shift ended at eight. He could also beg, plead, and grovel at his father's feet to borrow the Datsun, but Mr. Lancaster never let anyone near his car.
He said the vehicle was dangerous, uninsured, and much too easy to get distracted while driving it. If given the choice of offering Miles a ride to school or letting him walk, Mr. Lancaster would make him walk. He was even less likely to believe the story about Sam. Even I don't believe it.
Yet you agreed, nonetheless, a snarky thought retorted. So, what are you going to do about it? He spun around in the computer chair a few times, watching images of his bedroom slur together in a whirlwind of motion. Think, Miles, you just need to think. Dad always says that no matter the problem, there's always a solution. So how do I solve this?
To be honest, Miles wasn't much of a problem solver. He wasn't like his father, who could finish complicated equations in a matter of minuets, or like Sam, who could talk his way pretty much into anything. He got average grades and led a pretty simple life. When danger came his way, he pretty much did the opposite of the clever (like shimmy up a tree).
I can just…lie. Tell him Sam's stranded at the theater and needs a ride. His parents won't answer his calls. May I borrow the car? He paused, liking that idea. Then, when he had the keys, he could just drive downtown. Mr. Lancaster would never be the wiser, but first Miles needed to get him to say yes.
And that could be a challenge.
* * *
"You've got to be kidding me," Mikaela said, looking up from Bumblebee's open hood. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, and she wielded a wrench. "You called him?"
Sam hung up the payphone. "No one else is answering my calls," he said. "Will, Maggie, Glen, Fig, and Epps…it just goes straight to voice mail."
"Maybe their cell phone batteries died," Mikaela suggested. "Yours did."
Sam watched her dig around in the engine. There was a narrow hole in Bumblebee's hood— big enough that he could watch her working with the hood up— where Starscream had stabbed him with that chunk of All Spark, just barely missing his spark. The blow had sent mechs stumbling backward, after a burst of blue electricity, ironically leaving Starscream unresponsive and Bumblebee stunned.
The fragment was at least a hundred times larger than the tiny sliver of metal it had once been. Apparently, they had retrieved it from Megatron's spark chamber, and shortly afterwards it started spontaneously zapping energy from nearby sources— cell phones, cameras, Decepticons and Autobots— so that it could regenerate itself to its former glory.
It can give life, even to itself, he thought grimly, and take it away, too.
Then there other fragment that Optimist had found, which was supposed to be locked up in the base's most protected vault system. So, if one fragment was regenerating itself, who was to say the others weren't doing the same?
Mikaela was right. It explained why no one was answering his calls. Maybe the base was out of power. "Two All Sparks," Sam muttered, climbing into the front seat. "Great. And they're both evil, life-zapping alien relics."
He sat there for a moment, feeling the noon heat against his skin. Living in California his entire life, Sam was used to constant sunshine. This was a different kind heat, a desert heat that was arid and full of dust. When he inhaled, it made his throat dry and scratchy.
The setting was almost as bad as the heat. Crumbly volcanic rocks were baked into the red soil, and you couldn't walk a hundred feet out of town without seeing a copse of ponderosas. The town itself had a bit of a western theme, with square saloon-looking buildings, and everywhere he turned there were horses— real ones and decorative motifs.
He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. The truckers had been kind of enough to tow them to the nearest gas station—appropriately titled, Pump-It-Up— and one had even offered them a place to stay. But that was the least of Sam's worries.
"Is Bee okay?" he asked.
"Actually, everything looks intact," she said, sounding surprised. "His spark casing isn't damaged, so I don't know what's wrong."
After the fight, they had fled the sight, leaving behind Starscream and the All Spark piece, which, being too dangerous to carry around, the Autobot insisted on leaving it behind. Then, just two miles out of town, Bumblebee had slowed to a stop; he turned off his engine in the middle of the highway and fell into an unresponsive silence. He hadn't said anything since. No music, no clicks, beeps, or even a word of reassurance.
"But he's okay, right?"
"Ratchet said that Autobots can take serious damage, as long as their spark is intact, so he should be fine," Mikaela said. "His processor, on the other hand, could be totally fried for all I know. That jolt he took was pretty incredible."
Puffing out his cheeks, Sam sighed. "Can't you check?"
"Computers and cars are two completely different subjects, Sam, and I failed tech class with a solid F."
Sam ran a hand through his hair. He didn't like sitting around twiddling his thumbs, doing nothing, asking questions and not knowing…
…just waiting for answers.
"You know," he said after a moment. "I don't think we should have left that All Spark thing behind."
Mikaela closed the hood. "You heard what Bumblebee said," she told him. "The All Spark is made up of raw energy. Right now, it's just too unstable for anyone to handle, including us. Someone could get electrocuted."
"Well, what if Starscream's buddies come looking for him? What then? Are we just going to sit around and wait for them to pick it up? I don't know about you, but I don't fancy the idea of a Decepticon army."
Closing the hood rather roughly, Mikaela crossed her arms and gave him a dangerous look as he climbed out of the car. "He said not to touch it, Sam."
"I'm not going to." He put his hands in the air. "Sheesh. I just want to see if I can break a five. You want a soda or something?"
She watched him for a moment and then said, "Yeah, I could use a Pepsi. Are you going to try calling base again?"
"Yep. You like those, uh, peanut butter M&M things too, right?"
"You know me too well, Sam."
Sam walked away, rolling his eyes. Yeah, like he was actually going to walk fifteen miles back to where they had left Starscream, who for all they knew wasn't completely inactive. How stupid did she think he was?
Okay, okay, so he was totally thinking about it, but that was all he was doing, just harmlessly contemplating his options. Because honestly, the last thing he wanted was to end up smack-dab in the middle of another alien war over multiple All Sparks!
He shook his head, pushing open the door to the Chevron minimart. Aliens these days.