Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro, Paramount, Michael Bay and so forth. This is just a free work of fiction. Also, I have made mention of some of the ideas established in Karategal's Little Bee stories (a highly recommended read), which I reproduce with permission.

Warnings: Violence, Intense Situations, Very Mild Bad Language

Authors Notes: Back again! Sorry about the delayed update; the week has been very, very, very hectic.

I don't know if I'm entirely happy with this chapter – it didn't have quite the action I was looking for and was mostly explanation and so forth. However, there were certain points that had to be made, and I didn't want to make it too long. Things should move along a bit in the next chapter. Besides, I liked writing interactions between the Autobots.

Please read and review

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Chapter Two – Enemy Descends

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The bus made it almost halfway there before the engine nearly shot out of the frame.
Literally. Its pipes and wires were bent and deformed, its battery blackened, it had left dents in the engine compartment. Dents on the inside.

It was as if, the driver chuckled uneasily, it was as if the engine had tried to walk out of the bus. The mechanic they had called out had stared at it like a man planning to take up abstinence.

The stowaway had run off into the woods.

"Just some kid," the driver had told the depot. "It happens sometimes. They think they can get a free ride in the baggage compartment. He's lucky he didn't freeze to death, actually. His hands were blue. Didn't catch his name. He just took off through the smoke while we evacuated the bus."

Sam was on his own, in the darkness, alone. He had never felt this low before. Not when his first dog died, not when he failed getting on the football team, not even when he realised Mikaela really didn't know who he was and likely never would. That had been pretty low.

But this was new. He had killed someone. His best friend, his guardian; the quirky being with whom he shared an almost mystical bond. The wonder and awe of reaching out across the stars to connect with an entirely different but oddly familiar race was brutally and abruptly ripped to shreds, with no fanfare, no final goodbyes. In two minutes, Sam's life had turned into a nightmare he wasn't sure he was strong enough to live through.

The Autobots would kill him. He didn't know what punishment they reserved for people who killed their people, but after watching them deal with the Decepticon's, he was pretty sure they didn't go in for slaps on the wrist.

Whatever. Sam was too grief stricken to care. Even if the Autobot's forgave him, Sam would never forgive himself. He'd somehow killed Bumblebee, his friend. He couldn't live with that. He couldn't rationalise it. He couldn't justify it. He couldn't say it hadn't been his fault, because whatever this was, it came from him. All he could do was keep anyone else from getting hurt.

What was happening to him? This was a new terror that was worse than the Decepticons, worse than his shiny new fear of heights. How was he supposed to defeat his own body as it turned on him?

Cursing, he suddenly flattened himself to the ground, spread eagled on his stomach, as the throbbing pulse inside him jumped again. It was his only warning. It came in cycles, he had learned. The power came up, out in a burst, and then settled again. As the sparks began to arc from the wire he'd wrapped around his hands, he shoved the barbs into the ground, trying to earth as much of the power as he could. Thank goodness he was now away from the city, which was too full of metal and cable, making him feel like a cigarette lighter in a fireworks factory.

The electric strikes were only small this time, but it was still enough to split a tree in half, smoke rising. The stink of smoke was on Sam's clothes and hair, and wouldn't come off. Like blood on the hands.

The throbbing in his chest was so much worse now – it burned like someone had lit a fire in there, and was jabbing hot irons in for good measure. He curled up around the pain, willing it to still long enough for him to continue. He had to tell her goodbye. He owed her that much. He had to keep going for that one last thing.

Sam breathed, and breathed, and breathed until the pain lessened and used his considerable grit to get up and keep going. It had taken him all day to get this far, but he wasn't giving up now. And when he was done, the Autobot's would decide.

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The beacon of light in the sky had been noted, and drove the Autobot leader through the woods as fast as his alt mode could go. The explosion heard after that had him felling trees.

Optimus Prime was not the oldest Autobot in existence – that mantle was firmly on the cannons of his closest and loyalist friend, Ironhide. But he was no youngling, either. He'd been around the galaxy a few times, so to speak, and had seen much of the strange, repulsive, wonderful and weird. Not only that; as the leader, he'd had to actually deal with most of it. So it followed that his threshold of surprise was pretty high. Insurmountable, almost. One does not remain as respected a leader as he without being able to deal with whatever mess the situation doled out with aplomb.

Optimus finally roared into the clearing, transformed without actually breaking momentum, stopped, and nearly dropped his jaw plate onto the ground.

Bumblebee was skipping across the clearing, chirruping cheerfully from his damaged voice box, gleefully dodging Ironhide's grasping arms. Robo-cat and glitch mouse. Prime remembered that game. Some of Optimus' oldest memories of Bumblebee rose to the surface watching him jump around – back to Little-Bee times, the tiny, tweaking, trouble-making terror being playfully and exasperatingly chased through whatever situation he'd cheerfully wandered into this time by his league of caretakers, which was essentially every big bad macho warrior mech aboard the flagship. Optimus remembered those times with such a fondness in his spark; it does however have to be said that he was mostly glad they were over, too.

Optimus was blindsided by the whole thing. He watched his weaponry expert sidle slyly up to the little yellow 'Bot and make a heroic grab, but Bee darted away, high pitched whine ringing from him in lieu of a voice.

"Come on, little 'un, time to on 'charge," Ironhide grunted exasperatedly, and Optimus was even more shocked. He hadn't heard Ironhide use that tone, stern but achingly gentle, since Bee's younger days.

What was going on here?

Captain Lennox, Optimus noted suddenly, was riding on Ironhide's shoulder, expertly moving with the old mech to maintain his balance. He was yelling down to the black clad humans Optimus tracked on the ground, who were scrambling and darting around the giant mech feet. Armed, Optimus noted with sudden grimness.

"Will you just goddamn well hold it? Get back, damn it, get back! Let them handle this!" The Captain yelled down Ironhide's back. He switched handholds absently as Ironhide shifted his weight, readying for another grab at Bumblebee.

"That NBE fired on us!" Simmons screamed from the ground, incensed. In the distance, giving the clearing a dim glow, a battery truck with mounted guns was overturned and roasting in it's own juices. Ratchet was fanning the ground nearly with a circular cutter, throwing up a storm of dust and dirt to contain the flames.

"You were firing first, agent," Ratchet interjected, and Optimus heard worry, exasperation and sharp anger in the usually calm medic's voice. "Please refrain from doing so again."

Ironhide made another lunge for the bouncing Bee, who launched, flipped and rolled, and evaded him again, voice box clicking in what Optimus assumed was laughter. He nearly landed some of the humans, and that made Optimus' optics narrow. Bumblebee was never careless with small living things, which wasn't something you could say about most mechs. He hadn't seemed to realise they were there.

"Right, that does it," Simmons waved at a second truck, which was manoeuvring around the stricken abandoned one. "Ready!"

"Stop!" Optimus stepped in, turning surprised heads, and it was a testament to how tense the situation was that no one, even his own soldiers, had noticed his approach.

Too late. The cable net had already been shot loose, parachuting behind it's small-caliber launchers. It didn't get very far. Moving with a speed that made him such an able medic, Ratchet lunged into its path, ducked under the leading edge and caught the snagging device by it's trailing edge in a fan of sparks, yanking back and killing it's forward momentum. Swift hands disabled the launchers with simple squeezes and the twisted metal mesh dropped to the ground in a folded, scraping tangle. Then Ratchet, taking entirely too much pleasure in it, gently dragged the net up and high, and lowered it over the scattered group of humans like a blanket. It wasn't heavy enough to crush them, but judging from the swearing and yells coming from under the mesh, it was enough to pin them and difficult to struggle out from under. "This is for your own good, you know," Ratchet admonished his unimpressed captives.

Then he was forced to duck, because Bumblebee opened fire.

Bumblebee felt like his head was on overload. Everything was too bright, his processors smoked taking in ten times the things they usually handled. Disorientated, he called desperately on his memory banks as he instinctively tried to figure out where he was and what had happened. So many different things registered. Ironhide was here. Was he late getting in again? He wasn't tired enough to go on recharge! He just had to stay out of the bigger mech's grasp, that was the key to the game. Then there were explosions. Tyger Pax! Battle! Decepticons! Panic washed his systems as he tried to find friend and foe, but his sensors were giving him conflicting information. His cannon loaded up…

Optimus lunged. Ironhide lunged. They just barely managed to get Bee's cannon pointing at the sky before it discharged a fourth time. The first blast had singed the truck and taken out of row of woodland behind it. The second one had shot a crater in the ground, and third made showers of burning leaves swirl around the clearing like fireflies.

"Get him on the ground!" Ratchet boomed, moving towards the tussling mechs.

"Simmons! Don't you dare!" Will yelled down to the agent from his grim handhold on Ironhide's back as they agent signalled a second strike.

"Ratchet, report!" Optimus ordered as he shifted his legs and knocked Bumblebee's supports out from under him, gently getting him to the ground with Ironhide's bracing help.

"Surge weapon," Ratchet replied, pulling out equipment. "We drained most of the power but it's still playing havoc with his systems. His sensors are overwhelmed and his memory banks are sparking randomly. When Ironhide spoke to him, he regressed to childhood. When the humans shot at him…" Ratchet shrugged. Bumblebee was a soldier.

Bumblebee gripped the edges of Optimus' chest plate and shook him agitatedly, giving off a series of whines and clicks and tortured groans which were the only sounds he could really make from himself. He was trying to speak, but couldn't.

"Easy, little 'un," Ironhide whispered soothingly, tracing his immense finger joints over the smaller head of his one-time ward, just like old times.

"It's alright Bumblebee. It's safe. You're in the stronghold," Optimus spoke firmly and clearly, gently prising loose the yellow 'Bot's hand. "The Decepticon's are retreating. You are safe. You are home." He squeezed the digits to send the message. The voice of the Autobot leader was the tipping point; Bee stopped struggling against the two mech's restraining him. "Ratchet needs to take a look at you, little one," Optimus added as Bee relaxed.

Ratchet knelt down and the other mechs tentatively released their holds. Will took this opportunity to climb athletically down off Ironhide's crouched form and onto the dusty ground. "Optimus. Good to see you," the captain meant that sincerely. Optimus had a way of restoring order about him.

"And you, captain," Optimus gave the human soldier a nod of acknowledgement for help received.

Will sensed movement before him, and without ever really thinking about it, dove for an abandoned sidearm and came out straight armed at the dishevelled Agent Simmons, who had also drawn his gun and his cell phone. "Don't." Captain Lenox's tone was frost covered steel. The two guns crossed each other in a Mexican standoff.

"We have a national security situation here…yes I'll hold," Simmons grunted into the phone, streaked in grease. He glared at Will. "Once I finish reporting this I am arresting you for breech of national security. ET, Marvin and the rest of them will be contained. By firing on a US official, they've…officially…declared war on the US."

"One of their own was attacked, jackass," Will felt like punching the man. "You would never have been fired upon if you hadn't shot first, and I'll be sure to tell the people that matter exactly that. In the meantime you and your doped up posse can back the hell off before you make it any worse."

"The US Air Force does not have any authority here, Lennox. We have jurisdiction over the NBE's, we have jurisdiction over the kid, and there's nothing you can do about it. You're just an outranked grunt. I am here under the NSA's orders and have the authority to take down any potential security breech, by any means necessary," Simmons wouldn't budge.

"I'm here under the Sec Def's command," Will produced his shiny new Autobot staff card. "And I have the authority of three giant robots." He saw Simmons face twist sourly as he read the Secretary of Defence Authority ID.

"We'll just see about…" Simmon's enraged reply was interrupted by a ring tone. It was loud, it echoed strangely in the sudden quiet. Even the Autobot's looked around. Simmons glanced at his own phone next to his ear, but it was still on hold.

With a nagging sense of recognition, Will started to pat his pockets with his free hand, keeping his gun hand steady. "I'm sure I turned that damn thing off." He kept patting, but the sound wasn't coming from him

The other Autobot's, save Bumblebee, were all looking at Ironhide, who was mirroring the captain on a massive scale. The older mech sighed and, performing a contorting half-transformation that made the others wince, extracted a shrilly ringing phone from somewhere near his left shoulder. Realigning his body, he irritably chucked the tiny buzzing device at the captain. "You did. You also left it in my glove compartment. My transforming reactivated it." He shot the human a pointed look.

"Sorry big guy," Will caught the phone at the end of it's precise arc, and punched the answer button. "I can't really talk now, honey."

"That's okay, I have a headache, sugarmuffin," was the wry answer.

"Epps?" Then Will remembered himself. "Rob?"

Tech Sergeant Robert Epps chuckled again. "The one and only." The voice suddenly sobered "We may have a mechanical problem, Cap."

Mechanical, as in mech. "Yeah, got a few of them here myself," Will forced his eyes to keep from sliding to Simmons, who was eavesdropping suspiciously. Will kept the gun up.

"We might have a vulture circling overhead. Satellites picked up something that doesn't look friendly."

Damn, damn, damn. "Are they sure?"

"Sure enough to get me out here to do recon. The GPS network picked up something entering the atmosphere but as far as we can tell, nothing has crashed…yet. The tech's and I are going out to see if we can track it. This could turn hostile. You want a transport or are you coming in your new truck?"

"Neither. I have another situation here, could be connected. Stay with the techs, contact the rest of the team and keep me informed. I'll see what I can find out here," Lennox ordered crisply.

"You got it, Cap'n."

"Did the Sec Def call you?" Maybe they did have the authority here.

"Nah. The tech did – Maggie."

"How'd she know to call you?" Will asked, puzzled.

"Uh… Blonde, nose stud, killer legs? I gave her my number."

Will shook his head. He'd been married too long. "Keep thinking with your brain, Sergeant. Check in every thirty minutes."

"Yessir."

Will snapped off the phone, feeling a tense knot settle in his gut.

Simmons was watching him. "What was that about?"

"Call home, Simmons," Will advised brusquely. "Things have changed."

He spun around and stalked back to the Autobots, who seemed to be conferring.

"Ratchet, are you certain? That's impossible," Optimus' voice was grave.

"I ran a dozen scans, Optimus. They're all telling me it's almost the same as Cube energy," Ratchet's hands worked methodically on the prone Bumblebee, who's optics were dim.

"The Cube?" Will hissed, knowing there were prying ears nearby. "The Cube's gone, isn't it?"

"Yes," Ratchet said quietly, looking down at Bumblebee. "And yet…"

"That might be it," Will mused.

"Be what?" Ironhide asked, surprised.

"There's a Decepticon lurking around," Will reported grimly. "We're trying to pin down his location. Could they do…what you do?" He waved a hand at Ratchet. "Track energies?"

"They can pick up Cube energy. And once they did would stop at nothing to seek it out," Optimus replied, his voice flat. "We must find the source immediately."

"Faster than immediately – I think it's in the area. We have to find Sam," Will said grimly.

"Sam?" Optimus looked surprised. "He is not here?"

"No. And the NSA is real interested in his whereabouts. They've 'tagged him for confinement' – that's a fancy way of saying they're planning to lock him up and throw away the key. Either he's seen something or he knows something – do we know where the energy attack happened? Can we find out where it came from?"

"It shouldn't be hard to trace the energy trail, the residuals are still in the air," Ratchet sniffed experimentally.

"Ironhide and I will track this energy and try to find Sam," Optimus nodded. "Ratchet, stay here with Bumblebee. Follow us when you can."

"He should be up and around soon," Ratchet confirmed.

"Captain," Optimus extended a hand. "Will you join us?"

Will grinned. It was a humbling thought that such battle hardened being put such faith in so frail a creature as himself. "Let's go track some Cube."

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"Have you got the laptop?"

"Yep."

"Spare batteries?"

"Got 'em."

"Cheetos?"

"We'll stop on the way, Glen," Maggie rolled her eyes. "Are you sure we can find this…bogey?"

"Look, the Decepticon's frequency plays merry hell with anything electrical in the area. More than that, it's a very rare high frequency white noise that's produced. The antenna's will be tuned to that frequency, and wherever the frequency appears on any network, we'll know it." Glen shrugged. "Probably."

Epps slammed the trunk closed. "So basically we're tracking static."

"Yes. Alien static," Glen hauled himself into the back seat of the SUV, already crammed with gear.

"Is this it? Isn't anyone else going out?" Maggie looked apprehensively at the one vehicle that was supposed to find a hostile entity that could be anywhere within a thousand square miles.

"The Sec Def's readying forces for deployment in case this turns ugly, and we don't have men to spare with the security clearance for this," Epps snorted. "The rest of the team's all we got, really."

Glen stuck his head out of the window. "The rest of the tank techs are going to give us IT support. Once we have a trail, it won't be hard to get a position. One of the satellites picked up the entry, so we have a starting point."

Maggie bit her lip. "Here's hoping we don't meet them in person," she muttered.

"Ready?" Epps called from the drivers side. "Let's go track some Decepticon."

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Miles walked alongside his bike slowly, frustrated. Mikaela was out of town, damn! Finding Sam would have been easier if she'd been here. Her aunt had been very helpful, and had given Miles a phone number after hearing that 'that nice lad Sam' was missing. Miles fumbled for his phone.

"Hello?" a voice mumbled after three rings.

"Uh…hi," Miles found himself flustered faced with talking to an unknown girl on the phone. "Is this, uh, Mikaela?"

"Yeah. Who is this?" she replied.

"Look," Miles rubbed the back of his head nervously. "You don't know me or anything, but my name's Miles and I'm Sam's friend…" there was a silence of the other end, and Miles rushed to fill it. "Uh…you might have noticed me that day at the lake? I was the one in the tree."

"Oh…oh, yeah, I remember. How did you get this number?"
"Your aunt. Look, has Sam called you or anything? Something happened at school today and now he's missing."

"Missing? Since when?" There was a pause, and then a sharp "Was he picked up by a car or something? Like a police car?"

"What? No! Look, there was this giant accident, okay, and now Sam has up and disappeared and…I think it has something to do with why he's been missing for the last few weeks. Okay? So has he called you, have you seen him?"

"I …no. He hasn't called me or anything," Mikaela's tone was guarded. She hazarded. "Maybe you should just leave this to the cops."

Miles was incredulous. "Are you nuts? He's my friend, and I don't think the cops can help him. I know something happened to him in the last couple of weeks. What kind of trouble is he in?' Miles demanded.

"He's…he's not in any trouble. Just stay out of it, okay? Sam's fine, I'm sure he is," Mikaela tried to keep her tone light. She was hiding something.

Miles gritted his teeth, frustrated. "Does fine include shooting lightning? Because I saw Sam do that, and it wasn't okay, okay? He's in real trouble. I need to find him."

"Shooting…this had better not be some stupid joke!"

"Turn on the news! It's all over the headlines! Half the school was wiped out! Tell me what's going on here!"

Mikaela sounded concerned and sceptical. "I'll find Sam – you don't have to worry about that. I…I can't tell you anything. Just keep out of this. We'll find him."

"We…who?" Miles was answered by dial tone. Frustrated, he slammed the phone shut.

He wasn't dropping this.

He picked up his bike, and pedalled furiously towards Sam's house.

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There was a shrill scream from the equipment in the SUV.

"We got something" Glen yelled, tapping away. "It's an actual alien signal. What the hell? It just appeared all of a sudden. There was no trail!" He punched the coordinates into the GPS anyway.

"No trail?" Maggie tapped from the front seat. "How can that happen?"

"If it's that flying bastard," Epps broke in, stepping on the gas pedal. "If he's flying high enough, he might be able to avoid leaving frequencies or appearing on radar anywhere. A lot of our jets do that."

"Damn, I didn't think of that," Glen cursed. "He can drop out of the sky anywhere he likes!"

"Oh no," Maggie breathed at her screen. "An attack confirm just got sent by the defence network."

"Attack?"

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"Optimus," Ironhide sent to his leader, speeding up.

"I know. I felt it too, old friend." Optimus had taken the rear on the road, and kept pace easily.

"Felt?" Will prompted from the drivers seat.

"Starscream has revealed himself." Optimus replied, voice grim.

"An attack? On American soil?" Simmons tinny outrage came through Ironhide's speakers from Optimus's cab.

"Shut up! Just be glad they decided to bring you along," Will snapped back at him, rolling his eyes. "How close?" He asked Ironhide.

"Too slagging far away for us!" Ironhide howled in fury.

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Starscream could almost taste the raw energy still in the air after the maelstrom. He descended through the clouds, dropping like a stone until he could expertly hover over the high school parking lot, casting his ominous shadow.

There men working on the cables even so late at night, and they were knocked off their cherry pickers and cranes by the downdraft. Those that could ran for cover as the hideous whining engine descended to within inches of their heads, lights flashing, lasers probing.

All Spark. All Spark.

Then the terrible jet thrust upwards again, so fast it was almost like it's momentary intrusion never happened. For a moment the fleeing workers, already blocks away, relaxed. Any moment now someone was going to make a crack about the idiot proof air force.

The missiles streamed down before anyone could even register the threat. In one minute, silence was filled with deafening slabs of destruction sound that took out windows a half mile around; flames billowed out like an orange and red rose, bleeding smoke and shrapnel – the lot, the school, and several other buildings nearby were nothing more than smoking, glowing holes in the ground.

Mission accomplished, Starscream vanished into the clouds again, scanning for the energy again, prepared to follow the tracks wherever they went.

All hail Megatron

Sam, oblivious to any of this, stumbled onwards, getting closer to his goal.

And to his end.

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