Fugitives

Chapter 1-Hidden

Nine months ago

The scream was unholy, primal—a sound that went unheard in the vastness of space. It was felt, elsewhere, the only acknowledgment of an event taking place light years away on a planet, designation Earth. A dream. It had to be nothing more than a dream. But it wasn't. Jarred from stasis, he felt the searing pain of a wound in his chest, fear as he couldn't free himself of the weapon running him through, then cold. . .systems kicked online, reaffirming Earth was indeed his destination. The lifeform waited a few moments, felt the distant echo of another mind, reassuring him, everything was fine, *they* were fine. . .

-----

Earth, today

Judy Witwicky hated funerals. Not because they were depressing, or anything like that, but because of moments like now. The part where the family and friends started talking about what they were going to do with the stuff left behind. Only in this case, "stuff" went beyond a house, personal effects and the affairs left unfinished. In this case, it included her 16-year-old nephew, Spike. His father, her brother-in-law, was dead, killed in battle in Afghanistan. A career Army Special Forces soldier, Irving Witwicky was the youngest Witwicky brother. He'd promised Spike his present tour would be his last deployment, but it was the last promise he'd ever break.

Now, Judy was having to listen to her sister-in-law, Rita (Rita was Ben's wife, Ron's oldest brother) talk about what "they" were going to do with Spike. "They" included Ben, their younger brother Eli and and Ron's sister, Ella, who the boy was staying with while his father was deployed. Except Ella said she couldn't deal with it anymore, and if the boy had another run-in with the law, she was done.

Judy left the room, rolled her eyes at her sister-in-law, Gina, Eli's wife, as she passed her in the kitchen. Gina was on her side, thankfully. Not like it meant much, but at least someone had her back. She passed through the kitchen, headed out to the garage.

Judy found Spike sitting on the hood of his father's pickup, jacket thrown down on the dirty garage floor, tie with it, the sleeves on his dress shirt rolled up, earphones in each ear, eyes closed, shutting out the world. Judy looked over her nephew, couldn't help comparing him to her own son at that age, just a few years ago. Spike wasn't as tall yet, was wider through the shoulders, had straight light brown hair cut short and unlike the rest of the Witwicky clan, sported blue eyes in stead of brown or hazel. Different, yet still family, but no one was treating him like it.

So what the kid made a few mistakes. They all did, her own Sam was no exception, although Sammy's mistakes tended to be just that, or accidents. He didn't go looking for trouble, it found him. Spike was just the opposite. He went looking for it, hence his record. Short, but he did have a record, another shame on the Witwicky name, according to the in-laws. Whatever, Judy thought. If only they knew what she knew. . .

But enough of that. She wanted to check on Spike. She set a hand on his shoulder, startling the boy, causing him to fall off the pickup.

He swore, looked up, saw he was in the presence of one of his aunts and stood, his expression somewhere between sheepish and fear of getting reamed for using foul language.

"Are you all right?" Judy asked.

Spike pulled the earphones from his ears. "Yeah, you scared me," he said.

"I didn't mean to," she said. "I just wanted to know how you are. . .I mean. . .I can probably guess how you're feeling. . .but. . ."

"You know, you're the only one that's asked," he said. "Well, you and Uncle Ron."

"Really?" Judy said, taken aback. What the hell was wrong with the rest of the Witwickys?

"Well, at least school's over now, so what are you going to do this summer?"

Spike shrugged. "I haven't thought that far ahead," he said.

"Are you going to stay with Ella? Or have the others offered?" Judy asked, hopeful.

"No one's said anything to me about it," Spike said. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't care. It's not like they give a damn anyway. . .you know what I mean. . .Aunt Ella thought this whole thing was temporary. And now it's not."

Judy reached out, took one of his hands, giving it a squeeze. "Well, if there's anything I can do. . ."

-----

A hotel room. Ben's place was so full of family and friends who came to pay their last respects to Irving that they were staying in a hotel room. And apparently, "cheap" didn't just apply to Judy's own husband's spending habits. Ben kindly offered to pay for a room at one of Springfield, Mo.'s finest Super 8 hotels. And of course, Ron accepted. She glared at her husband's back as he sat on the side of the bed, looking in the phone book for a decent restaurant.

Judy was kicking off her shoes, heels, which she hated. Give her her sneakers or her Crocs for gardening. . .She frowned. Her garden, now lovely and in bloom, more beautiful than ever, gracing the area around their new swimming pool. And the nursery. All those plants, flowers and trees waiting back in Tranquility, while her staff was probably mucking it all up. The busiest season for the business and she was away. She closed her eyes, counting to 10, trying to get back on track. The funeral was over. She thought it would be the hard part, but what was coming was going to be harder. Irving had been her favorite brother-in-law, the youngest, and the most like Ron. And now there was no one to look out for Irving's son.

"What sounds good?" Ron asked, turning around, looking at his wife, who was also divesting herself of her jewelry.

"I don't know," she said. "Pick something."

"If I pick, you'll just want something else," he said.

Judy picked up one of her shoes, tossed it at her husband's head, smiled as it made contact.

"Like I said, pick. I don't care," she said.

"OK. Get changed and we'll go to this diner--Scrambler's," Ron said.

Judy frowned. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"What? What have I done now?" he asked.

"Aren't you at all concerned about what's going to happen to Spike?" Judy said.

"It's not our problem," he said. "It's all being taken care of."

"They're going to put him into foster care," Judy said. "We can't let that happen."

"Judy, the decision's been made. He needs help. . ."

"Bullshit," she said. "He's been bounced between relatives for the past year—that's why his grades suck and he's gotten into trouble because nobody's bothered to set down any rules."

Ron grabbed his wife's hand. "It's already been decided," he said.

Judy bit her lip, thinking fast. She said the first thing that came to mind. "What if it was Sam?"

-----

NEST Headquarters, Diego Garcia

Sam Witwicky wished he was able to attend his uncle's funeral, but at the moment, he had bigger issues to deal with. Like helping an alien race recover its past with planet Earth. The going was slow, but he'd only been at it a few days. It was his choice to spend the summer with NEST—he'd been offered, and he'd accepted. Plus his parents knew exactly who he'd be with and what he'd be doing—helping the members of his Autobot family in a decidedly non-combat manner for once. Although if it came to that, he'd be willing to help out. Thank God his mother had no problem now turning him over to Optimus Prime and Bumblebee. Having someone die trying to protect her son was one quick way to change Judy Witwicky's mind about them.

Bumblebee was glad to see him, as was Optimus and the others. A few new Autobots had even shown up since the incident with the Fallen last autumn—Sideswipe's twin, Sunstreaker. He smiled at that thought. Epps had taken to calling the twins by the nicknames Lennox gave them—"Silent" and "Deadly." Silent for Sunstreaker because he was a mech of few words and Deadly for Sideswipe because he was that in battle.

Other new arrivals were Prowl and Bluestreak, Red Alert and the engineer Wheeljack. Five in nine months. Not bad, but more were hoped for because there were still plenty of Decepticons on Earth hiding. And looming larger than that was the fact Megatron and Starscream were still alive and unaccounted for. No one had heard or seen anything of them since they left after the battle in Egypt.

Another matter was the artifact now in Autobot possession—the Matrix of Leadership, now carried by Optimus Prime, as was his right and his duty as the last Prime. That, Sam knew, was a misnomer. Optimus wasn't the last Prime—he was the only Prime. In the past months the Autobots had been able to unravel that since the deaths of the original 12 Primes, one Prime existed at a time, or that was what they thought. Others could have existed in the time since the original 13 (including the Fallen) and now, but the knowledge and wisdom contained in the Matrix was vast and mostly unknown.

-----

Making impact with a planet hurt. A lot. More than any injury he'd ever taken in battle, and there had been plenty in his short life. More than some should have to bear. But here he was, alone, slightly dazed and wondering what he was going to do now. So much for the wisdom of vaunted elders, he thought.

He ran a scan, picking up on the primitive network spread across the planet, searching for an acceptable Earth mode, downloading the native local language as well as the rest of them just in case and whoa. . .there. . .the appropriate words to describe just what he thought of his present situation. They weren't directed at anyone he actually cared about, more like someone's error in judgment and the Decepticons.

Decepticons. Anger welled up inside him. They were why he was now on Earth, instead of with those he cared about most. And duty and responsibility. . .all because of the mark on his head and his name. But those two things did not define him. No. He was who he chose to be, and he would not have a destiny he did not desire forced upon him. Although at the moment, it looked like fate had other plans. He knew that now. He was separated from his brother and for all he knew, Kup and Ultra Magnus were dead. But he couldn't worry about that right now. He had other Autobots to find, but first, a little walking to do to find a suitable Earth mode.

Rodimus Prime stared up at the alien sky, just for a second, searching, but he saw nothing. He sighed, started walking in the direction of the nearest settlement, trying to avoid detection.