Bogey Chapter 2, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

Optimus Prime had never openly requested to be kept in the loop of every step of the way when it came to the construction of the Ghost-2, as well as the selection of the crew that would fly the human vessel into position. He had offered the help of his team and it had been gratefully accepted, though. The Ghost-1 had been a purely human construct, derived from reverse-engineering Megatron's technology. It had reeked of Decepticon influence. Ironhide had been the first to protest against using the specs of the primary interplanetary vessel to build its sister ship. Ratchet had agreed.

So both began to work closely with the human engineering crew. It was a top secret project located in the Arctic where the first Ghost had been built. The Autobots could only get there by transport plane. Ratchet had almost set up camp there.

Sam was brought into the picture a year into the project. He provided valuable help with the interface of human and Cybertronian technology. Three months later, Optimus Prime was presented with the crew of the new ship in person for the very first time. The two men and two women had been trained at different sites ever since they had been chosen, but they hadn't yet laid eyes on their future ship. That would change within the next months. While they knew about the Autobots and had met Jazz and Ratchet, Optimus Prime knew he was still an impressive and awe-inspiring sight.

Blue optics looked at the future captain of the space vessel. Recognition had come when he had first read the name of the man, had seen the father's name and occupation.

Kyle Walker, son of Samuel Walker, the captain of the Ghost-1, the man who had sacrificed himself, his crew and the ship to keep his own planet safe. They had provided an invaluable distraction for the Autobots. Because of them, Prime and the others had made it out alive. At the time Optimus hadn't known much about humans, but with the time on Earth he had come to respect the self-less act of the crew of the Ghost-1 even more.

Now he was looking at the very man's offspring. He wondered whether Kyle had ever been told what his father had done, what he had prevented. Probably not. Until Prime had debriefed Keller on the events in a different galaxy involving the Ark, the Nemesis and the Ghost 1, no one had. He would know now, but the question was, how much?

It was up to Prime to find out and rectify any open questions.

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Three days had gone by since the explosion of the power conductor and nothing had happened since. Work in the labs continued as usual, though Tomczyk had insisted on double checks and sometimes triple checking even those. Sam was in the middle of it all, rechecking what machinery sensors had already cleared with his own abilities. Test sequence upon test sequence was run until the engine was no longer as much as creaking the wrong way.

They had a schedule to match.

Laura wiped sweat off her brow, then switched on the new model. She eyed the power conductor warily, expecting it to explode, but nothing happened. Ratchet was on stand-by, his optics fixed on the read-outs, his audio receptors open for the slightest wrong hum. Sam stood with his eyes closed behind a security wall made up out of transparent material that should theoretically be able to take a blow from a malfunctioning engine. His mind was open for every little blip.

Nothing.

Smooth running.

When nothing happened throughout all phases of the final test, Sam nodded and gave Ratchet a thumbs-up.

They were back in business!

Life at the Autobot base was so very different than NASA, a normal Army base or any kind of military installation Kyle Walker had ever been. There was the night-day-schedule, which meant lights were dimmed in some areas with nightfall. Shifts were always six hours and rotation was hardly visible. The Autobots moved freely among the humans, clearly aware of the much smaller life forms and taking care of not stepping on them. They didn't really have night-day changes, aside from recharge periods, and apparently didn't need full lighting.

The training of the Ghost-2's crew was mostly theory for now. It meant getting to know about the ship they would fly and the ship they were supposed to maneuver closer to Earth. None of them were expected to fly the Ark, but remote control was a lot more difficult than many people thought it might be. Since the Earth vessel was a hybrid construction interfacing with an all-alien network, a lot of tests had needed to be run.

Kyle knew he was staring. The man smiling faintly at him was probably used to being stared at, but it was rude nevertheless. He was about Kyle's size, with dark blond hair, brown eyes, a healthy tanned look, and the build of a runner. Slender, not too bulky. He was dressed in faded blue jeans and an old, washed-out Army t-shirt. He held himself with a confident air, the smile friendly and open, and Walker had been among enough Army guys to recognize one even when dressed in civilian clothes.

"I'm sorry," the future commander of the Ghost-2 finally managed. "You surprised me."

The man smiled more. "I bet. Sorry, Commander. Wasn't my intent. I'm Will Lennox."

"Kyle Walker, but I guess you know that already."

They shook hands.

"Word gets around. You looking for something?"

Kyle chuckled. "Yeah, actually I am. Coffee."

Lennox motioned at him to follow. "We have a kitchen here. You and your men are welcome to use it while you're at the base."

Walker and his men had been shown around the base by Epps, but so much had happened, so many shocks had still needed to be digested, he had simply gotten lost in thought while looking for a source of coffee.

So Kyle followed, still a little shell-shocked as to how Lennox looked. The strange script on his skin was moving, for God's sake! It was on his hands, on his bare arms, on his neck and face, and probably all over his body. Banachek had mentioned that Kyle and his men might get a few surprises and to be open-minded, but he could have warned him at least a little! Damn.

The kitchen was moderately sized and currently there was no one there. The adjoining, quite large and comfy looking common room, equipped with sofas and a large screen TV, was empty.

"Black?" Lennox asked.

"Yes, please."

He took the mug from the other man, eyes straying to the runes again. They were alien but quite beautiful, he mused briefly. A dark golden color, some a burnt orange, some bronzed. There were letter-like ones, squiggly lines, straight ones, dots and squares and spirals. They moved slowly, lazily, sinking into the skin and reappearing.

"You can ask," Lennox said quietly. "I'm part of the same top secret stuff as the Ghost-2 or the Autobots."

Kyle smiled dimly. "I was trying to be polite."

That got him a laugh. "Don't try. Here you either ask or you learn to live with not knowing."

"All right. Still learning. And since this might be a private matter…"

Another laugh. "As private as it gets with runes all over your skin, visible to all."

"I can see your point. So, what happened to you?" Walker asked openly.

Lennox gestured at the couch. "Let's sit down. This'll take a while."

The almost space-ready ship was impressive for a human vessel, Barricade mused. Not the rickety, patched-up look of its sister ship. Ghost-1 had been single-stage, sleek and winged, with noticeable bulges and technology protruding in various places. And technologically it had been of Decepticon descent.

Ghost-2 was clearly influenced by the Autobots. The basic design had been kept, sleek and winged. Humans liked their repetition. Aerodynamically it was a nightmare too, but in space aerodynamics were secondary. The hull was better shielded, it had basic weaponry to fend off an attack should an enemy approach, and it was able to masquerade its origin quite well.

Her launch procedure would be unlike anything the humans had ever shot into space. The ship would be launched on top of a specially reconstructed cargo plane, flown as high as the plane was able to go after its modifications -- sub-orbital space -- and then dropped off. With the engines firing up, the Ghost-2 would leave Earth's gravity completely.

The ship wasn't large enough to allow a Cybertronian entry. Frenzy would have fit, but that was about it. Jazz and Bumblebee might be able to peer inside, but there was no crawl space. Human engineers were all over the new space ship, testing and retesting, making sure everything was in order.

Barricade had accessed the human history of space flight and found that the Ghost-1 had been a revolutionary design and idea. Back at that time it had been more than anyone had ever dreamed off outside Sector Seven and their secrets. Even today the space shuttles looked like children toys compared to the Ghost-2, which was still nothing like the Cybertronian ships.

As former pilot of the Nemesis he had given some input into the construction of the Ghost-2. Not that he would confess to any kind of interest in the project. The Autobots wanted their ship back, so they had to work on it alone. Barricade still believed that the Nemesis was long gone and Starscream was busy finding new troops. Still, having the Ark here would give the Autobots an advantage. Hiding the ship would be problematic, though. The planet had undergone quite some changes in the past forty-plus years since the launch of the Ghost-1. Landing a ship that size anywhere would be near-impossible. There were too many eyes in the sky, too many private watchers, too many alien fanatics who just wished for such an encounter.

He hadn't brought that up directly, but his partner had noticed.

"The humans have people working on the best possible day to move the Ark out of hiding," Jazz told him. "Solar flares, the like. We might just get her to the Moon."

"They'll notice eventually," Barricade replied levelly.

"Maybe. But we gotta take that chance."

"Why?"

"Because we might need the Ark."

Red optics narrowed. "I still doubt it. Your ship is no war cruiser. The best you can hope for is a new base."

And this one was sufficient in Barricade's eyes.

"We also get access to our technology on a far broader scale."

So much was true.

"Do you have better ideas?" Jazz asked. "Where to hide her? How to get her down?"

"Like I said, it's difficult. The humans are too far advanced to ignore such a huge ship."

Their own arrival had been explained as meteor impacts. The craters had been there to prove it. But the Ark was too big.

"If you want the technology, salvage what you can from where she is. Take the computer core and the materials you need, disable the weapons and secure her," Barricade went on. "Should the Decepticons return, booby trap her."

Jazz looked thoughtful.

"Go tell Prime," Barricade rumbled.

It got him soft laughter. "You're in on all of it, too. You can tell him just the same."

"I know," he grated out. "I'm reminded of it every single day."

Jazz only smiled. "It's not that bad, Cade. You're still alive."

It was said lightly, but a lot of meaning carried in these few words. Barricade refused to answer, just looked at the schematics of the guidance controls on the screen. The humans selected to fly this ship would need training in handling the unfamiliar controls. He had told Optimus Prime as much and his advice had been heard.

Jazz gave him a friendly pat, and then walked away, probably to talk to the Autobot leader. Barricade knew he could approach Prime just like any other mech, but he didn't. It would be like a confession as to his new status among the Autobots. He was a fringe ally, nothing more. He would give his opinion if asked, but he wouldn't bring in any more input than what was really necessary.

Looking up the name of the human pilot, Barricade called up the service records and training schedule of the second-in-command and pilot of the Ghost-2.

Lieutenant Commander Barbara Tanner gazed into the red optics of the mech known as Barricade and she had to hold onto herself not to visibly shiver. Barricade wasn't at all like the other aliens. He looked meaner, more dangerous, like something inherently lethal and evil. It wasn't just the color of his armor. Ironhide was black, too. It was everything, the whole design. He hadn't done anything bad to her, hadn't spoken more than a few words – which hadn't been mean either, but the voice… she still shivered – and still she had pegged him for 'evil alien robot'.

But he worked with the Autobots. He was an ally. Allies were friendly, right? As friendly as mean looking robots could be.

And Barricade was the one to teach her about controlling a semi-alien space ship.

Lucky me, she thought morosely.

A lone figure was jogging along the well-trodden path, chest heaving in regular intervals, his body moving like a machine, always the same speed, always the same motions. The man was dressed in a khaki tee-shirt, black sweat pants and wearing running shoes. He looked like any other jogger, though out here, in the desert, there were usually no joggers at all. If someone should take a closer look would he see the tattoos on his body, swirling gently, some almost resting in place where they were.

Ironhide had found Will outside the base, jogging across the airstrip. His human friend claimed it cleared his head. He watched him for a while, the followed the lone figure, engine humming softly, almost purring. Lennox glanced at him as he continued his path.

Finally he stopped, shooting the black Topkick an almost annoyed look.

"You want something?" the human wanted to know.

Ironhide refrained from scanning his friend, though it was an almost instinctive move. Will could block him if he wanted to when he felt scans, so it would probably annoy him even more. Whatever the source for the already present mood was, Ironhide could only make it worse with caring too much.

"You disappeared," he remarked. "It had me wondering."

Lennox expelled a breath, shaking his head. "Just needed to get out. With the new crew getting acquainted with everything Cybertronian, it was getting crowded."

"You didn't mind talking to Commander Walker."

"He's an okay guy."

"So was his father."

Will was by now walking, heading further out instead of back, and Ironhide followed on almost silent wheels.

"You knew him," the hybrid human simply stated.

"Yes. He gave his life to save his planet and, in turn, us. I didn't understand humans back then. Now I know what it took to do what he – they – did."

Will was silent, one hand resting on a black fender as they walked.

"What are you thinking about?" Ironhide asked quietly when the silence stretched on.

Will stopped and his hand dropped away. Brown eyes briefly strayed over the black Topkick, then Will shrugged, eyes on the desert again. "The mission."

"Why?"

"Why not? It's something big for everyone."

Ironhide was silent, trying to think ahead of his friend, discover what was disturbing him so much. Because Will Lennox was disturbed. He might not be flashing runes like wild fire all over his skin, but his whole body spoke of it nevertheless. He was tense, coiled, ready to bolt for no apparent reason. At least none that was apparent to Ironhide.

"If this is a success," Lennox went on, "you'll get your ship back."

"In a way."

Will laughed humorlessly. It sounded like a bark. "I doubt you'll have any trouble getting from here to the Moon somehow. Or to find a good enough cover to land the Ark. You'll think of something."

Ironhide felt confusion rise. He transformed and went down on one knee, trying to peer into the averted eyes. "Will? What's going on?"

The human scrubbed a hand over his face, then through his already so very tousled hair.

"The Ark is your way back," he finally said.

"Back to Cybertron?"

"Yes. You can go home."

Ironhide still couldn't really make out Will's expression, but he recognized the tone of voice. Loss. Desperation. Frustration. Fear.

"There is no home to go back to," the mech said softly. "Cybertron has most likely died by now."

"You don't know that. No one does."

Ironhide reached out and gently tilted Will's face up with one finger. There was a faint pin point of blue light in the brown depths. Ironhide almost sighed.

"I know, Will. I know it in my spark. When we left Cybertron, the war had already destroyed so much. We searched for the Allspark for millennia and even before we came here, so much time has passed on our homeworld. Without the Allspark there is nothing to return to. We have chosen to remain here."

"Would you go if there was a chance?"

"Yes. I would."

Lennox seemed draw back a little. "You still have that chance," he said, voice strangely far away. "The Allspark merged with me. Maybe… maybe on Cybertron… I might function."

"You're not the Allspark, Will. You never were and you never will be. You can't create life," the weapons specialist contradicted. "You are Will Lennox, my friend, my partner. I would be honored should you want to come with me, return to a Cybertron that is alive and able to support more life. But there is no such Cybertron left. It would be a dead metal husk."

"You would want me along?" Lennox sounded almost surprised.

"Yes. Why do you doubt that?"

"Because what we have and share… is limited. Being among your own kind would be more liberating for you, Ironhide."

"Who I share with is my decision, Will. Mine alone. We have adjusted to this, to our situation and limitations. We made compromises. I don't feel like I miss anything. Do you?" Ironhide wanted to know, almost dreading the answer.

"No," was the soft reply. "As strange as it is, it's… enough. Your way of sex is rather addictive," he added with a grin.

"We don't have sex," Ironhide rumbled.

"I know, I know, big guy." Lennox looked at his wrist, the one with the Cybertronian name of Ironhide around it.

Ironhide followed the look and wondered what Will thought about it. They had never talked about that particular tattoo.

"Will?" he queried.

"Nothing. Just me thinking human thoughts."

Ironhide chuckled. "I'd be afraid of your thoughts were anything but."

"Hey, Allspark hybrid here," Lennox joked, smirking a little. "I'm entitled to weirdness now and then."

"So what weirdness is it right now?"

"Your name."

Ironhide's optics narrowed a little, waiting.

"It's been here for a while. Not moving. Sometimes I want to know why I bear it. I keep thinking up explanations. Then again I wonder if I want to know. Really know."

"What are your explanations?" Ironhide queried neutrally.

"That it signals the others that you and I are compatible," Will said carefully. "But that would be foolish because the enemy might see it. It's exposed."

"It is."

"It's the explanation?" Will asked, looking a bit shell-shocked.

"No. It's exposed. It would make no sense to show everyone just who your partner is. Jazz would have been in grave danger in all the time I've known him had he shown Barricade's name on his skin anywhere."

"Makes sense. So why?"

"The Allspark was never understood by my people," the mech replied. "I've seen you display all kinds of texts, signs and words, Will. Part of you responds to triggers and the runes show it."

"You triggered me," the human said softly. "You taught me. You helped me. You're my friend. You're always there. So I show my allegiance?"

Ironhide was silent for a moment, the nodded once. "A fitting interpretation."

"But I don't have the Autobot symbol anywhere on me."

"Neither do you have a Decepticon one," came the wry reply. "For which I'm grateful."

"I hear you." Will shook his head, sighting. "I think I'll never understand what I am."

"But you know who you are. That's a lot more important."

"Deep, Ironhide. Very deep."

That had the weapons specialist chuckle. He rose to his feet and transformed. Lennox took the wordless hint and got inside, behind the wheel, and Ironhide drove off, back to the base.

Matters sped up with the near completion of all tests. Barricade spent most of his time teaching the pilot and co-pilot, showing a lot more patience than anyone, aside from Jazz, would ever have given him credit for. Simulations were run continuously and Barricade noted that the performance of both humans was getting a lot better.

It wasn't just a matter of handling human and Cybertronian technology in the Ghost-2, it was also important to understand the Ark's systems. Barricade was no expert on Autobot ships, but he found a co-trainer in those matters in Jazz. While Ratchet had handled the Ark just as frequently, it fell to the silver Solstice to interact with the humans.

The humans weren't untalented. They had been chosen for a reason and that was their background, their experience, and their talent. They adapted fast, even if they walked warily around him.

Good for them, he thought darkly. He would have had to wonder about their sanity and logic if they trusted him like they did Jazz, for instance.

"You're a pretty good teacher," Jazz remarked at the end of another simulator lesson.

Barricade's optics narrowed a little.

"Never figured you'd be this patient," his partner teased, optics alight with amusement. "Then again, you taught Sam before this. You have experience with humans, huh?"

"Shut it," he growled.

Jazz chuckled. "Your image is crumbling, Cade."

The glare intensified.

Jazz's smile only widened and he elbowed him lightly. "I won't tell anyone."

And with that he was gone. Barricade kept glaring daggers at the retreating mech.

Barricade insisted that all the crew had to learn about the systems and be able to fly the Ghost-2 and, if necessary, maneuver the Ark. There was a lot of arguing from the systems engineer and the communications officer. Their job descriptions had never included learning to fly.

The former Decepticon just stared at them hard. "Should your pilot and co-pilot be killed, survival depends on your abilities," he said cold, chilling the humans.

"It's just a brief mission," Gabe Craig, the systems engineer, muttered.

"So was that of Ghost-1."

"That was an accident."

Barricade's optics ridge moved in a rather good impression of 'raising an eyebrow'.

"They tried a slingshot maneuver," Freddy Hamilton, the communications officer, added. "We're just heading for Mars."

"Your people 'just went to the Moon'," Barricade rumbled. "And they had more than enough accidents."

"Not the same. Different technology," Hamilton continued arguing.

"Reverse-engineered from Megatron."

They looked exasperated. Barricade just waited them out.

Finally, "Okay, okay, we can't get around it, right?" Craig muttered.

"Hardly."

So training for all four it was.

"They learn really fast," Jazz remarked after the end of another long and intense simulation session. "Humans are so incredibly adaptable. It shows us our limits, huh?"

Red optics narrowed, but Barricade didn't really object to that statement.

"It's risky to leave them alone aboard and give them control of your ship," the former Decepticon finally answered.

"We discussed it already, Cade."

Barricade's optics flared, showing his misgivings.

"They are our allies," Jazz added.

"Allies can betray you, too."

"I know."

"Still you're too much Autobot."

"Not necessarily a bad thing."

"Not necessarily good either. Humans would call you naïve."

"They call you scary as hell and chilly."

Barricade smirked. "I know."

Jazz chuckled. "And you enjoy it."

There was no answer, but the smile grew.

"Ironhide and Ratchet came up with a fail-safe."

Barricade shrugged.

"Hey, it'll be okay, okay?"

His partner didn't deign it with an answer either, but Jazz knew him too well anyway. Barricade never trusted anyone without having very good reasons. He had fought alongside many Decepticons and never trusted a single one, not even Megatron, though he had put more trust in the Decepticon leader than anyone else.

"Sam suggested he fly along to help should matters go downhill."

Another flare, this time for a different reason. "He wouldn't be able to last against the Ark's systems," Barricade answered flatly. "He may have grown and learned, but he's still young."

And you feel responsible for his training, Jazz thought, suppressing a smile. Barricade would rather cease to function than confess that he had taken an interest in the young human's development.

"It's why Optimus and Banachek vetoed that idea. The plan is to give Sam the chance to get to know the main system from a safe distance when the Ark is closer."

Barricade didn't comment, but there was a misgiving expression on his dark face.

Ironhide and Ratchet kept track of the test results of the Ghost-2 and when she was declared ready, they agreed.

It was late summer and Cape Canaveral was getting ready to launch the last shuttle. The media circus was big. Decades of shuttle space flight was coming to an end, accompanied by old footage, reports, interviews and documentaries about the early stages to today. It was the best that could ever have happened to Project because no one paid any attention to what was going on further up North.

There was a lot of talk what would follow the shuttle program, but all of it was speculation and NASA wouldn't let anyone know of their plans. There were several possibilities known to the media, and one not known to anyone, and that was a model based on the Ghost-2. It would be years until something with Cybertronian technology would be launched, and if it was, the technology would be camouflaged beyond recognition.