SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: R for suggestive scenes later on
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
This bunny is Sapphire's fault, who I traveled to Iceland with. While driving through the volcanic landscape we figured that the mechs could easily hide there... or crashland and never be discovered. :)
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Vatnajökull. The glacier of water.
Located in the south-east of the island of Iceland, covering more than eight percent of the country, it is an impressive sight. A gleaming white landscape that, upon closer inspection is riddled with cracks and deep lacerations, is far from smooth, and the whiteness is actually far from just white. Volcanic ash and sand is enclosed in the eternal ice, giving the glacier darker streaks. Air bubbles and debris are locked inside. With a size of 8100 square kilometers it is the largest glacier of Europe.
Throughout tourist season people hiked, climbed, drove past or flew over the massive formation. It was a magnet for everyone visiting the northern island. With the end of summer silence descended once more, though.
It was in late September that Dr. Einar Magnusson and his team started on their expedition to explore a specific area of the glacier. He irregularly took students and part of his science team up on glacier walks that would push everyone, even science, to their limits. They would set up camp near a central service station town and fly to their sites each day. The very hardy spent one or two nights in heavily insulated tents up on the glacier as long as weather permitted.
On this expedition the team consisted of only
four people, including Magnusson, and none was a student. They were all
senior scientists and glacier experts. He was looking for traces of
Earth's history in glacial ice and his aim was to remove ice core
probes and get them back to his lab. The plan was to take five probes
out of four different locations. The first had already been
successfully handled and the six foot long tubes, about five inches in
diameter, had been shipped back to the lab. Inside was a perfect
vertical slice through the ice.
The helicopter set them down as planned and the men and one woman went
to work.
It was near dusk that one of his men, Dr. Lars Sveinsson, called him over. He sounded excited. And not just that. Also perturbed. Maybe even a little scared.
The others gathered, too, and what Magnusson saw let him gape.
Underneath a thin layer of crystal clear glacial ice was... metal. A long stretch of metal that first reminded him of the wreck of an old fighter plane, but then Magnusson frowned more. Of course planes had crashed in Iceland throughout World War II, but he had never heard of any speculation that it could have been up here. And the 'wreckage' looked too futuristic to be an old war plane from that time.
"Einar?" his colleague asked, unsure.
"Call the base. We need a chopper up here at first light," he decided.
Until then they would cordon off the area, mark the place of the strange metal inclusion.
Out of a whim he scraped snow off a covered area and Dr. Becca Asmundsdottir, their only female team member, a renowned professor at the University of Reykjavik, gave an exclamation of surprise as she ran the flashlight over the place.
The metal continued. It wasn't just the two by two foot area, it was a lot bigger. A lot! Everyone started clearing snow off the ice until they stood panting in the cold, breath frosting before their faces.
"What is this?" Lars whispered, looking frightened.
Magnusson didn't know. He could only stare at the roughly spherical shape under the ice.
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"I don't need a vacation!" Sam said forcefully.
Ratchet's expression was unyielding. "You have been under a lot of mental pressure lately, Sam. Helping the Constructicons tired you out and you need to recharge."
"I'm not a mech, Ratchet, and you're not a human doctor. You're not my doctor!"
"But I am," a very human voice said and Dr. Mark Keyron frowned at the younger man. "Ratchet is right. You're tired out, even if you don't feel it yet. You need some time away from all of this and a vacation would do you good."
Sam rolled his eyes. They would probably have brought in his parents if they hadn't decided to go on a month-long trip to Europe. His mother had called it their 'romantic vacation', his father had complained about the airline charging horrendous prices for first class and he wasn't about to pay for it, even if Judy insisted.
::Sam, please?:: Bumblebee sent. ::You feel tired to me::
"Now you're being unfair," the technopath growled and directed a new glare at the yellow and black Autobot behind him.
"I have a very unique connection to you," Bumblebee added, sounding just a little bit smug.
"I'm okay! I don't need to relax!" He looked into the three stern faces. "And I'm not winning this one, right?"
"No," Keyron told him. "Get away from technology, Sam. Let your brain recover. You helped five severely injured minds and you had multiple migraines. You need this time out."
Sam threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay. Do I at least get to choose?"
Bumblebee shrugged. "Of course."
"Fine! I'll pack." With that he whirled around, steaming off.
Ratchet whirred a sigh. "Humans can be so stubborn."
Keyron chuckled. "You have no idea."
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Bumblebee followed his charge into the house the technopath had on base – one big enough for Bumblebee to comfortably enter in his bipedal mode -- reaching out to the upset mind.
::Sam?::
::Leave me alone!::
::You know you need to unwind::
::I am unwinding! Every time we're together!::
Bumblebee radiated amusement. ::That's a different unwinding. This is about letting your mind relax, be away from temptation::
Sam stopped in the process of stuffing various articles of clothing into a duffel. Narrowed eyes pinned the Autobot.
"Temptation? You want to send me off alone?"
"No." Bumblebee knelt down, feeling the waves of upset and betrayal. "I know you want to be useful and you are. You're very important to us, Sam. Even more to me. You know that. Giving in to the need to be away for a while is no weakness. What you did for the Constructicons was incredible. It was beyond what anyone thought you'd be able to endure."
Sam looked away. Gentle metal fingers touched his face, forcing him to look into the understanding optics.
"You need this, Sam. We need this."
He cupped the large finger with his hand, feeling the smooth, alien metal under his touch.
"We?"
"Yes, we."
He breathed in slowly, then let it go in a calming exhalation. "We," he echoed. "Bee…"
Bumblebee's presence flowed around him in a very real hug and Sam closed his eyes, enjoying the simple expression of togetherness.
Them. Yes, they needed time away. He had felt it. He had been tense, he had been prone to migraines more often from simple things, and touching Bumblebee hadn't been as smooth and familiar as before. He needed to get everything into order once more.
"Any suggestions?" he asked his partner, looking into the bright optics.
Bumblebee gave a hum of amusement. "I can think of a few remote places where technology isn't very pronounced."
Sam smiled. "I'm ready to be surprised."
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The room was filled with electronic equipment top to bottom, artfully hidden underneath smooth panels. Huge viewscreens formed a semi-circle around the main control station and up on the opposite wall a display the size of a theater screen relayed the most vital information. Different screens showed different times, locations, data streams, and alerts. People moved efficiently, typing, talking on phones, sitting together and going over matters, and in the middle of it a dark-skinned, heavy-set man in his early thirties regarded the condensed version of what the men and women had collected so far.
An alarm went off. Silent, just a screen turning red and catching the attention of the controller close by.
Commands were typed in.
There was a brief waiting period, then the typing was faster, more serious.
The heavy-set man walked over to the screen and leaned over the controller's shoulder. He whistled softly as an image appeared, taken by a digital camera no more than twelve hours ago.
"Track it," he ordered.
"On it," the controller replied.
"YouTube?"
"Nothing yet. It's an official site. Glacial Expedition."
He nodded. "Confirm this, then block whatever else they're trying to send anywhere."
"Got it."
Two hours later a call was made to Tom Banachek, head of Project.
Another three hours after that international relations with Iceland took on a different tone.
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tbc...