Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional.


With minimal effort and a little time spent observing the goings on of the organics – whom Bumblebee learned referred to themselves as humans – in the city they called Houston, the scout was able to distinguish which buildings housed official government offices. The ability to covertly monitor their communications helped tremendously. These humans seemed obsessed with bureaucracy, but then, there were so many of them, they probably had to be in order to keep any level of order at all in their society.

It did not take long for Bumblebee to determine that the general population was blissfully ignorant of most that was going on around them and that nothing resembling the AllSpark was even an imagined possibility. Bumblebee quickly narrowed down a possible location to find out about the intercepted vaguely Cybertronian signal, however.

It was a complex of buildings that seemed dedicated to monitoring and communicating with many of those satellites in orbit. A place proudly highlighted on every public map of the area as the Johnson Space Center. Bumblebee did not know who or what a Johnson was - though it sounded like one of their peculiar personal designations. "Space Center" was at least a useful descriptive title.

Slowing as he approached the entrance to the designated facility, Bumblebee scanned the area. All entrances were gated and posted with human guards position to screen incoming vehicles.

He did a slow, long block around the fenced in area curious as to why such a large amount of seemingly untouched land was included inside the fence. It was clear, however, that he would not easily gain access to anything within the fence without drawing attention to himself. He could do it, but as an Autobot there were other options available to him as well.

Circling back around to the Space Center's primary entrance, Bumblebee pulled into the parking lot of a small organic food preparation building called Wendy's and shut off his terrestrial engine.

He then set about mapping the flow of information signals to and from the Space Center. Bumblebee was surprised all over again to see that many of the buildings outside the complex were communicating closely to the main collection of buildings. While doing so he idly noted all human buildings appeared to be rather uniform and were relatively feebly constructed block-like cement structures with internal ferrous support beams. Thinking of the architectural achievements and diversity of Iacon, Polyhex, Praxia and even Kaon he could not help but wonder; did the species lack creativity? But then, the redundant building modalities was probably related to their level of technological development: they were rather primitive after all.

With speed that would have made the progenitors of NASA's fastest super computer shake their heads in sheer disbelief, Bumblebee filtered through everything he found.

Though most was rather mundane and ordinary – not to mention ridiculously simple in logic if not erroneous in some of its scientific conclusions – there was one thing that caught Bumblebee's attention. It was not the information that was transmitted, but in how it was transmitted. Most of the signals were fairly open and unprotected. But there was one line of communication that was more closely guarded. At least it was more encrypted than anything else he had seen. Not that it was difficult for him to decipher: it was not. But it was also packaged in a way that would have made it blend into the background traffic of the multiplicity of signals that almost polluted the area so as not to draw attention to its self.

In many ways it seemed beyond what these humans were capable of – almost like it was a pitiful attempt to mimic something they could not fully understood.

AllSpark!

His enthusiasm for this heretofore seemingly fruitless search spiked.

With ease, Bumblebee traced the stray transmission and found it lead to a collection of relatively low-slung, asymmetrically shaped buildings several blocks away all of which were made of a particular red-ish colored brick, all smooth lines and no sharp angles on its exterior. At least it was an attempt to do something different.

To Bumblebee's further surprise – and initial disappointment – the parking area was smaller and immediately and easily available from the road. Surely nothing of any significance and secrecy would be so publically accessible. But he had come this far, might as well follow this lead through entirely.

Careful to keep the sound of his terrestrial motor low enough not to attract undue attention, Bumblebee entered the parking lot that would take him closest to the source of the signal.

Then he waited.

As planetary nightfall approached his current location, the building began to empty of its human occupants. Several hours after the sun had disappeared, most, but not all, of the human vehicles were gone. With a quick scan of the area to ensure no one was in a position to witness his next action, Bumblebee eased himself forward, over the curb and right up to a simple metal box that housed the buildings external telecommunications wiring.

Making contact, it was a matter of seconds before he had established a connection. He was quickly sifting through the information when one of the images caused him to pause his searching. One of the human's painfully simplistic survey drones named Beagle 2 – what ever a beagle was – sent to the planet they called Mars had discovered something before it ceased transmitting. It was an image that none of the humans could have hoped to correctly identify not having the requisite frame of reference.

But Bumblebee did.

Starscream!

He considered the related file more closely and found a reference to something called NBE 1. A nanosecond spent digging revealed a historical reference to the same object but called "Ice Man" reportedly discovered near the planet's northern pole by a man named Archibald Witwicky. And an image of this Ice Man.

Had he been able, he would have gulped as old memory files flashed their contents through his cognitive processors. Images and sensations of that same being standing on top of him, one pincer like hand wrapped around his throat as one massive foot had pinned him, helpless, to the ground. Only the desperate onslaught of renewed fire from his colleagues had driven Megatron away. But in leaving he had ripped Bumblebees vocal processor out of his neck causing the only damage Ratchet had not been able to fix entirely.

Megatron was here, on this planet.

The thought filled the sun-bright mech with dread.

Megatron would not have come to Earth without a reason, Bumblebee knew that for sure. And Starscream would not be here for his former master, seeing as the other Decepticon enjoyed his vaunted position as the de facto Decepticon leader. But there was something that could draw both of them.

The AllSpark

But obviously they had not discovered it yet, for the Autobots would have found out about that rather quickly if they had. That meant there was still hope. Bumblebee had to find out more, and he had to do so before Starscream could.

Some instinctual subroutine alerted him that the thirty seconds he had spent in contact with the building's communication portal was likely to draw attention at any moment, so he disengaged and slowly eased himself away from the building. So distracted was he by his unsettling discovery, Bumblebee failed to notice the alert signal that had started to silently pulse from the building.

Once a safe distance and surrounded by the vehicles belonging to a rather rowdy group of humans occupying a building garnished with flashing multicolored lights with extremely loud, pulsating sound waves emanating from every opening, Bumblebee accessed the human's World Wide Web.

An ingenuous creation really, the Internet was, especially for organics. Who would have thought that and organic species would think of making such a mass of information so readily available. It was almost Autobot like.

Once online, he did a search for the Witwicky man in the historical record he had accessed from the government building. If he still lived, he might be able to help. But the man had disappeared. Shortly after the record was made a group of humans going by the unit appellation "Sector Seven" had seen to it he was admitted into a holding facility designed for those with some form of dysfunction to their organic cerebral processors. He had not been heard from since. And considering the human's ridiculously short lifespan, it was doubtful he was evens till alive.

Frustration threatened to rev Bumblebee's engine just when he came across another handful of references. It was distantly connected, but worth the nanoseconds it took to examine it. This one was on a domain called EBay. It was some kind of electronic marketplace.

An interesting concept, Bumblebee allowed as he perused the short list of entries that had drawn his attention.

That entry consisted of a collection of even more archaic equipment – if they could rightly be called such – touted as having belonged to the "Famous explorer, Archibald Witwikcly: one of the first men to explore the Arctic Circle."

Bumblebee browsed the primitive collection, most of which was useless to his cause, but did lend support to the possibility that they did belong to the same Witwicky. Last on the list was a pair of human artificial visual enhancement adapters. Bumblebee's excitement intensified as he looked at the magnified image with the help of his superior ocular acuity.

The lenses were cracked, but clearly etched on their surface were microscopic reproductions of Cybertronian script. He could not read it, but knew Optimus Prime would be able to.

Revving his engine, and completely oblivious to the strange looks some passing humans cast in his direction, Bumblebee sent a summery of his discoveries to Optimus and the others.

Optimus' reply was quick in coming, transmitted almost instantaneously from their orbit well past the eighth planet in this system. /Excellent work, Bumblebee, you must find the human that is in possession of those glasses and guard him no matter what. If you can discover the connection, so can Starscream./

There was a pause and Ratchet's voice took over. /Startscream seldom operates in isolation./

/Ratchet is correct./ Optimus continued. /There are doubtless more Decepticons on the planet. We are on our way. When you find the human, send appropriate coordinates and we will join you. Try to avoid open conflict if you can until we are there to support you. None of us want to loose you./

Bumblebee had no argument there, he was a scout after all, not the heavily armored warriors that Optimus and Ironhide were. He knew he would not have a chance against Starscream.

He sent back another second and a half's worth of transmissions asking, /Do I make it known to this human who I am?/

There was a thoughtful pause before Optimus replied. /Proceed carefully, but if possible, prepare said human for our arrival. It seldom takes much to overload delicate organic cognitive processors./

/Understood./ Bumblebee acknowledged

/And Bumblebee, since these humans are sentient, it is important that we do nothing that will harm them./

Bumblebee accepted the admonition without dismay, it was what made them Autobots: A respect for the dignity and sanctity of all sentient life.

/May your mission meet with success, Bumblebee./ Optimus broke the connection

Had Bumblebee been a human technical specialist, he would have hummed to himself as he set about the task of finding the person currently in possession of those glasses. But the annoyingly repetitive sound waves emanating from the nearby human building were proving distracting. He opted to relocate to a more secluded location.

Once he found a sufficiently quiet area, he again accessed the Internet through the nearest Wi-Fi signal. The individual going by the title Ladiesman217 claimed to be a direct descendent of the Witwicky who had found Megatron. None of his personal information was readily available on the EBay site, but Bumblebee sensed it was there somewhere. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a violation of a sentient being's freedoms to pry and manipulate like he was about to do. But Ratchet's observation had merit. Startscream would not operate independently. Nor would he have any qualms about doing anything to this Ladiesman217 if he discovered the linkage.

His job was to protect this human, which was exactly what he would do.

It took very little effort to hack EBay's servers – hardly enough to even mention – and discover the human's true identity; a juvenile it appeared, by the name Samuel James Witwicky. His address was also easily uncovered. Using the human's own simple but effective search program, Bumblebee looked for the address. It was in a place called Tranquility.

A promising, hopeful name even if rather unusual.

He did not have much time to waste. In his present disguise it would take at least a day to reach that part of the human continent called America. Assuming he followed the posted speed limits.

However, before he left the quiet parking lot, Bumblebee did one more thing. It required only a simple adjustment to the underlying computer coding and he ensured that no one would be able to place a bid on those glasses. Ever.

Satisfied with himself, Bumblebee pulled out of the parking lot and onto a road the local humans called Interstate Forty Five and accelerated into the night. In the coming days he would regret the fact that in his enthusiasm, he did not think to delete all references to Ladiesman217 completely.

… … …

Blackout's hands squeezed into fists as Starscream continued his tirade. Of course, he knew he had failed to discover the information he had been sent after. Did the pompous Air Commander not think he realized that? He accepted this type of humiliation from Megatron because he knew the former Lord Protector would make good on his threats. Actually, Megatron did not even have to make many threats because his followers knew what he would do. They put up with it because he was a powerful and effective leader.

But Starscream… Oh what Blackout would not do to take the fool's helm and shove it up his aft.

Why did he put up with it? Actually, why had he put up with it for the eons Megatron had been missing?

"And you let some of those pathetic little vermin escape!" Stray tendrils of lubricant whistled out of the Seeker's mouth. "Of all the incompetent, glitched-proccessor things to do…"

"Scorponok still tracks them." Blackout cut the Air Commander off with a snarl. "They won't get away."

"If they do, the insects will know that we are here!"

"What would it matter if they did?" Barricade's scratchy base voice cut in. "They cannot stop us. They are weak and pathetic. I think it would be fun to see them try."

"But we still don't know where the AllSpark is located!" Starscream spun to face the smaller Decepticon.

"Or Megatron." Barricade growled.

"Right." Starscream added with an almost dismissive wave. "Or Megatron."

"We can find out that information." Barricade's voice had almost turned into a dangerous purr.

"Who is we?" Blackout demanded, his pride still stinging from Starscream's rant he was not interested in tolerating the same from the young upstart.

"Frenzy and I, of course." Barricade turned away from Blackout, as if dismissing him. "Blackout went for too obvious a target. Clearly it is time to hand this assignment over to one who will be able to accomplish it." It was almost a challenge

Blackout growled.

Starscream hesitated only a moment. "See that you do or you will be begging me to send you to the Pit."

Barricade made an inarticulate sound dismissing the Air Commander's threat. "Save your breath."

Then the former Enforcer folded himself into his alt-form and a moment later the sleek Saleen police cruiser shot off into the night.

"I'll end him." Blackout ground, his fists still clenched.

Starscream huffed. "I doubt you'd be able to. You couldn't even deal with a few measly little insects." More lubricant splashed against Blackout's face plating.

Before Blackout could respond Starscream leapt into the air, transforming into an F-22 and was rocketing away.

Blackout growled again even though nothing but a few stray samples of organic wildlife were present to hear it.