A/N: I'm preparing to move out again, hence the delay on this chapter, and RL will probably continue to delay things for a bit. Please stay tuned!

Renewal

Part Three

"Man, this is gonna take forever! Why can't you just buy the part from a store?" Miles stared around at the piles of junk, unsure whether he wanted to even step closer or pick something up to throw at Sam. "There must be a zillion wrecked bikes in here."

"Because it's cheaper than buying it at the store. And it's good to get some fresh air." Sam was already poking around, moving over a stack or two as instructed by the voice coming from the headphones hanging around his neck. "C'mon, Miles, we might find something cool to add on and make it even better."

"You have lost your mind." The other boy sighed then started looking, although not putting much effort into it.

Sam ignored the comment. At the same time he felt guilty for deceiving Miles. When the ban on contact with humans was lifted he owed a major explanation.

"It's by Miles," Broadcast suddenly hissed through the headphones. Sam tapped his pocket quickly, hitting the button on the disguised receiver that signaled an acknowledgment.

"That's great," Sam muttered through clenched teeth. Miles was the unwitting decoy. He wasn't supposed to find the bug.

"Now it's closer to you. Sam, keep on it."

He tapped the button and shuffled sideways, pulling out random bike parts and pretending to study them while actually trying to get a glimpse of an insect in between everything else.

"Should be close."

Sam wished he could reply. He didn't see anything even vaguely insect-like under, around, or inside the haphazard piles of junk. He tapped the button twice to convey as much.

"Hey man, check out this freaky bug."

Sam sat up, head back, imploring silently at the sky. Over the headphones came a, "Well, sh—"

"Huh, let me see?" Sam stood, brushing off his jeans, and meandered over without appearing to be in a hurry. The other boy had his hands closed over something. He grinned slyly when Sam crouched beside him.

"Check it out." Miles slowly moved his hands apart. Sam didn't see anything at first, but then Miles moved one hand in quickly, and the insect was revealed -- it was blending with its background color more skillfully than a chameleon.

It's a 'Con all right, Sam thought to himself. He tapped his pocket three times.

"Get the jar," Broadcast hissed.

At the same time, Miles called, "Find a jar -- gotta be one here somewhere."

"Yeah." Sam scrambled up and again pretended to look, while putting his hands right on one of several mayonnaise jars he had stashed in places the morning before while the bug had been following Arcee around, spying on her as they had hoped. "Found one!" He jogged back over, glad the bug had been near one. He knelt and quickly scooped the insect into the jar. It immediately turned all gray in color with two pinpoints of red on its head. Sam clamped the lid down before it could move to jump out.

"Wicked grasshopper." Miles stared into the jar. He then grinned. "What should we do with it?"

Before Sam could make a suggestion, a voice growled, "Hey, you kids! Get out of my yard!"

Sam jumped despite himself and whirled to look at the tall, reedy old man coming toward them. He gulped to keep from laughing. Someone had watched the wrong TV channel to get an idea for a hologram. He assumed they had seen Monster House or some other cliche spooky movie. "Oh, uh, sorry, sir," he stammered. "We were, uh, just trying to find a part for a bike, and--"

The jar was snatched out of his hand. "This doesn't look like a bike part! Get out of here! Now!"

Sam nodded and grabbed Miles, who was staring, by the shoulder. As he dragged him away, Miles blurted, "I swear I've seen that dude onScooby Doo."

The man chuckled as soon as they were out of earshot. When it appeared they had left the vicinity, a random pile of junk stood up and Thundercracker took the jar from his ultra-saturated holographic human. "That was fun. They never even saw me come out here. Thank you for the distraction." He held the jar up to one optic as he addressed the bug. "But don't get any ideas. I am not onyour side, either. You are intruding, so I decided to be a good tenant and help with a pest." He lumbered into the base, closing his hand around the jar with enough force to almost crack it, more than willing to imply he would crush the spy without hesitation.

Broadcast leaned out of the comm room door as he heard Thundercracker come down the hall and gave him a thumb's up. The Neutral grinned, not exactly a friendly sight, but Broadcast understood his intent. Thundercracker then continued on to the med bay. "Delivery," he rumbled when he walked in. Ratchet gestured to a spot on one of the tables cleared for the occasion. The Neutral set the jar down with meticulous care.

The Insecticon within immediately kicked the side of the jar with its hind legs, sending its prison rocking forward toward the edge of the table. Ratchet's hand shot out to catch it. "You just earned yourself an incapacitation." He released part of his right arm's tool array, using a set of forceps to unscrew the lid while an electric pulse laser hovered ready to dart inside as soon as the lid was off. The laser tip jabbed against the insect and overloaded it on contact. Ratchet replaced the lid and frowned. "Hmm..."

"Are we going to interrogate it?" Thundercracker asked, crouching to peer into the jar at table level.

"No. I want to get into its database without worrying about it escaping. If we can find where its signal is going, we might get an idea of where the Decepticons are hiding." Ratchet suddenly glared at the jar, his instruments alerting him to a vibration from within it. He grabbed it and dropped it into another container just as the jar shattered. "Charming. Resistant to common human materials, and not susceptible to that particular dose of electrical overload."

"They have added some features since you captured Bombshell," Thundercracker noted.

Ratchet sighed. "Which you would think I would expect by now." He began to pick through a bin of spare parts. "Soundwave needs a new hobby."

"Hello!" Bluestreak called as he walked in. "I hear we have a new guest. Maybe we should start putting up signs to invite them in. It might be more effective and save some time and energy." Thundercracker moved over to let the gray Autobot have a look inside the container. "Wow. That is small. They shouldn't be allowed to make Decepticons that tiny, don't you think?"

Ratchet harumphed. "Size does not stop it from being deceptive."

Bluestreak nodded. "So I heard from Broadcast. It can mask its outgoing signal and blend with the color and texture of whatever it's standing near. Except glass, it seems." He looked up and grinned. "That was convenient."

"Hopefully not too convenient." Ratchet opened a line to the comms hub. "Broadcast, let Prime know of our latest guest. I will commence a study to find out what this one knows. Tell him to be on alert. Who knows how many of these Insecticons could be out spying."

"Prowl, someone is following you," Firestar warned over the group frequency. The four Autobots had been traveling along a northern California highway toward an emergency call, none of the humans around them stopping or questioning a highway patrol vehicle leading a firetruck and a sports car labeled as "fire chief". They assumed the helicopter that made repeated passes over the highway was simply in communication with the vehicles as per formation.

Sometimes the ignorance of humans was a blessing. However, Firestar suspected that the one following them was not in that category. She stopped keeping pace with her teammates and flew ahead toward the location of the wildfire. "They are matching you mile for mile. No markings on the car to indicate they need to be going where we are. All of you, keep your holo-drivers active."

"Acknowledged," Prowl replied. "Inferno, multiply mode."

While it had been a vague assumption before, the firetruck now clearly appeared to have three different men inside its cab. "Gotcha, Prowl."

"Sirens," was the next order. All three turned on their lights and sped up.

Red Alert adjusted his sensors to pick up the human's car. "Vehicle not accelerating. It appears the driver will adhere to the law."

"Good," Prowl replied. "We will assume it's a traveler until proven otherwise."

"And if it isn't?" Red questioned. "What if it's a Decepticon?"

"We see what it does, and deal with it without transforming." Prowl slowed, letting the other two pass him.

"Without transformin'?" Inferno sounded disappointed. "How do we defend that way?"

"I agree," Red Alert said, his tone wary. "That seems ineffectual, and we should not encourage the humans to try such stunts."

"Correct. I merely want to show the Decepticons that they can't trick us out of hiding," Prowl explained. "I reviewed the previous incidents and I believe they will continue to use that tactic to expose us."

Red Alert raced ahead of Inferno. "While I don't mean to question your decisions, Prowl, I must admit I don't feel comfortable with the plan. Only specialized humans have the ability to adapt to our presence -- ours and the Decepticons. I suggest that you factor in that element."

Prowl went silent as he considered Red's words. "You are correct. Take care of the fire. I will deal with our tail." He braked and turned, blocking the road while the other two hurried onward. He switched off his siren, waiting only a few seconds before a red compact car came in range of his scanners. The windows were tinted so he couldn't get an image of the driver, but it registered as a human without doubt. Prowl had his holo-driver prepare to step out when the car approached -- although equally ready to chase him down should he try to drive around him.

Fortunately, the red car halted a few feet away. The driver stepped out and Prowl decided it would be polite to do the same. His holo-driver was a non-descript brown haired man, standard uniform and sunglasses. He offered a tight smile to the red car's driver, whose hand went to his shirt pocket then jerked back with a quiet curse -- which Prowl easily heard.

"Sorry for the sudden stop," the pseudo-cop apologized. "Got an uncontained wildfire up ahead. I need to stop people here and wait to see if the road is clear."

The man had sunglasses on and Prowl wasn't certain where he was looking, but the human did nod, scratching at his dark, curly hair. "Yeah, stopping people before the exit is always good, so they can get off and back on the highway again." The man's voice and somewhat stilted manner of talking registered to Prowl's memory bank, matching data he had input from Autobase's files. He kept the information at the front of his processor, debating how to confirm it. "Usually," the man continued dryly, "The blockade happens after the exit so we're all stuck until the road ahead is clear. Glad to see someone has consideration."

Why would officers purposely hinder the people like that? Prowl wondered to himself. He had his holo-driver look sheepish. "Sorry. I can't speak for other officers."

The man smirked very briefly. "I suppose you can't."

Prowl's driver stepped closer. "I couldn't help but notice you were checking your pocket. Did you think I was stopping you and needed to see your license?" He chuckled to show he was joking around; just all part of the disguise.

"I was looking for my badge. A reflex born of old habits, you might say."

"Oh. Well, I apologize if you are also an officer. I haven't met everyone in the area yet."

The man smirked again, leaning in to whisper, "You need to study more. Your dialogue stinks."

Prowl's driver drew back. "I beg your pardon?" At the same time his internal computer gave an alert. Voice print match confirmed. The holo-driver gave a tight smile. "So, which department is that badge of yours from?"

"One that doesn't exist anymore, but your buddies are familiar with it."

The holo-driver went stone faced as Prowl dropped all facade of a friendly human. "Reginald Simmons, there is currently a search for your whereabouts being conducted by the ARROW organization. You have failed to report in and your absence has incurred suspicion."

The man tore his sunglasses from his face, revealing angry brown eyes. A scan of them completed the computer's match. "Suspicion of what? I got kicked out but they wanted to keep tabs on me -- what, did someone think I was going to blab about all the crap Sector Seven uncovered? That was my life! Like hell I'd spill to anyone about it!"

Hypersensitive in response to accusations. Yet I need to make one more inquiry. "What about the grocery pattern? We have evidence that you were attempting something."

Simmons snorted in disdain then laughed. "That? That was nothing."

"It did not work, you mean."

The human shrugged. "So? Are you going to haul me in for that? I'm sure you've already alerted someone to my whereabouts," he added sarcastically.

"Actually, no. I haven't. I would prefer if you told us willingly. We were concerned that you had been captured by the Decepticons."

"You, or the government?"

"All of us. According to the accounts, you were just as much a hero to the cause at Hoover Dam as the soldiers in Mission City. We would like to consider you as an ally."

Simmons gave the hologram a flat look before glancing past it to the police car, then he looked over the hologram's left shoulder before his eyes fell to the imitation badge. "Let me ask you, Mister P. Rowl -- maybe I don't want all the recognition and responsibility that may come with those ties." He spread his arms out in an exaggerated shrug. "Sure, I'm grateful that everyone considers me a hero, and I'm touched by your concern for my wellbeing." He placed one hand over his heart, then flung it outward again. "But maybe I don't want any part of it. Maybe I want to be left alone..." He lowered his voice. "...to do things my way."

Prowl's holo-driver frowned. "That is your prerogative. However, for your own safety you should have reported in. For a while there was reason to believe the Decepticons were hunting for any of the humans involved with us, and they still have reasons to be looking for Sector Seven members, former or not. Just because you would not purposely tell them anything does not mean they would not find a way to get the information out of you."

Simmons scowled, folding his arms over his chest. "I'd like to see them try."

"I don't," Prowl said firmly. "Whatever has you feeling so confident will not last once you are in their clutches. Do you still not have a complete file on what they are capable of?"

"On the contrary..." Reginald smirked and took a CD case from an inner jacket pocket. "I think I know plenty more than you."

"Such as?"

The human's smirk grew. "We call it N.B.E. One."

Prowl's holo-driver did not reflect the surprise in his voice. "You found the Decepticons? How?"

"I have my ways," he replied smugly. "Question is, will anyone believe me since I've been so disobedient?" Reggie feigned a pout, looking down as he turned the CD case over in his hands.

"This is a matter of not just national security, but world-wide," Prowl said, his tone severe. "We will investigate any leads you can offer. The Decepticons endanger this entire planet wherever they are hiding."

"Escort me to your ship, and I'll show you how to access the data on this CD." Reggie glanced up, grinning slyly.

"My team is currently on a mission. Can one of us access it with our personal processor?"

"Nope, I want to be the one at the keyboard."

"Then you will not cooperate? I'm disappointed."

The human shrugged. "I'm not looking for your approval."

"What about that of your government, and the gratitude of your people?"

Simmons shot the police car a frank look. "Don't forget it's your government, too. Just because you've got the fancy guns doesn't mean you don't have to follow the laws. Sticking to the speed limits, I hope?"

"Of course," Prowl replied, wondering where the human was going with all of this. He knew he should send a message to ARROW, but was waiting for further information from Simmons so they would know what else to expect from him.

"Do you also know the one about impersonating an officer?"

"We have been given permission by the President to do what is necessary to remain under cover."

"Because," Reggie said with another smirk, "No one else needs to know how many giant alien robots are running loose on our planet. Well, some are giant. Did you know the 'Cons have two of those freaky little Frenzies?"

"How did you find them?"

"Intuition." Simmons tapped the side of his head. "You get a sense for these types of things after working around alien artifacts and scientific mysteries for years."

"I see." Prowl's holo-driver looked past Simmons toward the two cars that had just pulled up behind his. "We should continue this discussion later. If you remain here when I let the others pass, then wait for the rest of my team to return, I will do as you say."

"Good." Reggie reached out and made a perfect show of shaking hands with thin air. "Even if you still have the disadvantage of knowing my name. I know I can't call all of you 'N.B.E.-insert-number-here."

"My designation is Prowl. I will introduce you to the others when you can see them and associate name with form."

"Riiiight." Simmons laughed and put the CD case inside his jacket then strolled back to his car. He pointed over his shoulder as the other drivers gave him questioning looks. "Wild fire up ahead. Officer says to sit tight."

Lennox couldn't believe his eyes when he and Markhail walked into Reginald Simmons' apartment. He had never expected it to be so...pristine. Reggie had struck him as the type of bachelor who didn't care a whit about dusting regularly, but there it all was, coffee table spotless, sink empty, floor vacuumed...in short, no evidence of his status in sight.

"Steve, check the bedroom." Will pointed to the back of the apartment as he glanced through the kitchen. There was a small amount of food, all non-perishable. He had a sinking feeling before he even opened the refrigerator. As he had expected, there was no food in it; instead he found several oddly-shaped rocks and a half-dozen unidentifiable electronic devices. "Well, the weirdness was hidden but it's still here."

"There is plenty in here," Markhail reported from the bedroom. "Check this out. I'll bet you've never seen this many maps."

Lennox closed the fridge and slapped a bright pink piece of tape on the front before heading for the back room. He stopped short in the doorway. "Where does he sleep?"

The bed, the dresser, the floor, the end table -- and, of course, the desk -- were layered in maps of all kinds. States, countries, continents, labeled aerial photos, topographic, and more. Steve, standing carefully by the desk, held up one depicting the Earth's climate regions. "I'm actually hoping we don't find one labeled with Areas One through Forty-nine. Is your impression that he's a collector, or should we start sorting them by type?"

"Let's start sorting. Looks like this will be the only clues we have unless there's something else hidden in here." He glanced around the room, noticing that aside from the maps everything else was clean. "He hasn't been here in a while and I don't think he'll be back soon."

"Pick a corner, any corner," Steve joked. He scooped up an armful of maps off the desk. "I'll organize them in the living room."

Will nodded and went over to the dresser. "Question is," he pondered out loud while flipping through the maps there, "why did he clean everything else and leave this a mess?"

"Maybe it's always like this," Steve offered on his way out. "Maybe he sleeps on the couch."

"Nothing would surprise me." Will gathered up some maps and carried them out, helping Markhail set up the first few piles then returning for more. By his third trip he was seeing a pattern. "The majority of the focus is on the arctic, the Pacific, and the Atlantic. How many Areas does that cover?"

"Too many for my comfort. The Bermuda Triangle, the Devil's Triangle, the Iceman discovery..." Steve glanced from one set of maps to another. "Maybe Reg was working on a theory. Who knows what the influence of either Triangle was back then. Could be a reason Megatron's internal instruments were thrown off and caused him to crash. We still don't understand their effects, so no reason why they wouldn't affect Cybertronian technology."

"Think he hoped a flight to Miami?"

"As you said, nothing would surprise me. We'll find out if he charged tickets to anywhere when Eugene calls with the trace on his cards."

"Which should be anytime now." Will studied the topographic maps while Steve went back for more. "C'mon, Simmons, you had to have left something obvious..."

"Hey, Will? If he went to Miami, he forgot his scuba gear." Markhail stepped out of the bedroom holding a wet suit on a hangar in one hand, a pair of flippers in the other. "I guess wherever he went it wasn't by the coast."

"But at least he might have a normal hobby." Lennox inspected the wet suit for telltale dirt or damage. What he did find was a Sector Seven logo. They traded disparaging glances. "Keep looking around. I'll work on the maps."

Steve nodded and lead the way into the back room, returning to the closet while Will grabbed more pages. He stopped when he lifted the stack and saw one that traced the routes of various aircraft carriers through the Pacific Ocean. Sticking out from beneath it was one marking the same type of routes in the Atlantic. He pushed the stack aside and pulled out the two, placing them side by side. His gaze was drawn to the lines that centered around the Laurentian Abyss. He swore quietly. "This had better not be what it looks like."

As she walked up the ramp to the garage entrance, Arcee reviewed the data Ratchet had sent to her on the captured Insecticon. Based on the tips Rattlelatch had passed on to the medic to get at the information, they found the bug was designated Kickback and, like Bombshell, had been spying on them -- but hadn't learned anything that wasn't already plain to see. Her concern was that it would escape inside the base and gain the data it was seeking. Ratchet had so far ensured that it remained under lock and key.

She halted when she heard a conversation in Cybertronian. She leaned around the bend just far enough to see that two bots stood inside the entrance, backlit by the dawn. She stepped backward, not wanting to intrude or unintentionally eavesdrop. She then heard a quick clatter of metal and an electronic trill followed by a soft rumble. Then came the sound of one of them transforming and then an engine revved before the vehicle drove away. Arcee stepped around the corner and walked up to the entrance without a word.

"You are late," Chromia said critically.

"I thought you two would prefer to be alone." The smaller femme glanced at her from the corner of her optics, mouth forming a small smile.

"He would have bid you goodbye as well. You've done him proud."

Arcee allowed her smile to broaden. While it had been a long time since she had to wait on Ironhide's approval, she always held her mentor in high regard. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No."

"I thought for sure you would end up going with him."

Chromia shook her head, her face stoic.

"Where do you think he will go?"

The other femme lowered her gaze to the ground, this time with a thoughtful look. "I don't know," she answered quietly. "I may be older than him, but I don't claim to be wiser. He will go where he feels he needs to."

"Well, as long as he returns," Arcee offered cheerfully. "There are many interesting things to see and learn on this world."

"As long as he returns," Chromia repeated, raising her optics to the sunrise.

To Be Continued