Chapter 4
Call me a yellow-plated coward, but I am NOT going down there.
On second thought, his frame was already yellow. But what he was about to do was still cowardly, Bumblebee couldn't deny it.
The former human was in a hallway, on his way to the washracks. He knew nobody else would be in there this time of orn right at shift change. And he would bet his rear axle there were no cameras in there, either. Surely the aliens had some modesty.
In his subspace he had an energon dagger swiped from Ironhide's personal weapons stash in their shared quarters. He'd put it back later. Right now he knew what he had to do.
As predicted, the washracks were empty. Bumblebee turned on one of the showers, to make it look like he had actually come in here for a wash before his mission. Then he unsubspaced the blade.
Okay, you can do this, Bumblebee thought, trying to work up his courage.
He was damned if he didn't and damned if he did, but at least this way he was buying himself a little more time. If he went through with the mission Jazz had given him, he would likely die and possibly get Mirage killed as well. Really, he was doing them a favor.
Here goes nothing. The yellow mech sucked in a deep vent and dug the dagger into his leg, yanking up to create a gash.
He bit his lip to keep from crying out too soon. Damn this hurt.
Slashing it again across his chest plates, he made sure to make it deep enough to look bad but not deep enough to be life threatening. For the finishing touches he lacerated his arm as well, but actually severed the joints (no problem though, the robots could just replace their body parts. He didn't need a permanent setback, just a temporary one). The dagger was quickly washed off and stored in his sunspace.
Only then did he jump into the shower to get decently wet. His own energon dribbled mingled with water down his frame, and Bumblebee yelled like he was being attacked. The floor was slippery so he purposely let himself slip, creating a tremendous crash to go with the shouting. Half a minute later the washrack door slid open and two random soldiers rushed in. They had heard the commotion.
"What's going on?" One demanded while the other immediately commed Medbay. Bumblebee groaned, "...Ravage...I didn't see him..coming."
One of them transformed his hand into a gun. "Where did the coward go?!"
"That vent." Bumblebee mumbled, clutching his arm. He didn't have to fake being in pain. That was real.
Ratchet arrived shortly after and about blew a circuit at all the energon on the floor. He lifted Bumblebee in his arms and carried him back to the medbay.
"Ravage! If I had a credit for every time that fragging slaghead has broken into base…." Bumblebee listened to the medic rant as he was hooked up to an energon IV. It seemed Ratchet was buying the story.
"Slag, this arm will take joors to repair. I don't know if I have the necessary connectors." Ratchet said, examining the torn up appendage. "Perhaps Wheeljack can fabricate the parts."
Bumblebee didn't know who that was, though the name sounded familiar. Was Wheeljack another medic?
"How long will that take?" Bumblebee asked, feigning disappointment. "I have a mission coming up-"
WHAM. "Not any more you glitch."
"Hey!" Bumblebee yelped, rubbing his helm where the medic's wrench had hit it. "What the hell Ratchet! The frag was that for?"
Bumblebee's optics widened minutely. He hadn't meant that outburst, or to use an English word. Everyone knew to beware the Hatchet's wrench. H-he knew that.
On his part, Ratchet just stared at the little mech for a moment. Had he heard right? Had that little shit just yelled at him? At him? The mech who was repairing his sorry aft?
It actually kind of hurt. Bumblebee never yelled at anyone.
But then the moment was gone and he smacked Bumblebee a second time for good measure. "Don't make me fuse your vocal cords you ungrateful glitch!"
Man, Bumblebee thought. Shouldn't have said that. It seemed like Ratchet was going out of his way to be NOT gentle with the rest of his repairs. Bumblebee clenched his denta. Damnit, you're an alien warrior, you've been through worse. And you asked for this.
Jazz never came to visit him, though some time later Mirage did. The streamlined noble regarded him with a cool look.
"What?"
"You are aware this means you will not be able to complete the mission?" He said quietly, aloof.
Bumblebee put on his best glare. "I fragging realize." He tried to look disappointed. Really he was thinking You bet your ass this means I'm not going on that mission and you can't make me.
Mirage raised an optic ridge. He had worked with Bumblebee a long time, and had never really known him to needlessly swear. For a split second, he thought he saw fire in the scout's optics, an emotion that was quickly hid but not in time to go unnoticed. And he knew. There was no Ravage.
Stiffly the noble said, "Jazz sends his regrets as well, but he is unfortunately busy at the moment," before taking his leave. As he strode away, his thoughts swirled.
He knew that emotion. It was smug satisfaction. Like the little mech was proud to be getting away with something. Mirage had played politics enough times before the war to see through a facade now.
But getting away with what? Why had Bumblebee reason to lie? Was he protecting the true culprit of his injuries? Had he caused his injuries? Too what gain? Mirage, dare he say it, had grown to be friends if not an ally of Bumblebee. If this was some kind of personal problem telling their superiors - and wouldn't Ratchet be mad - wouldn't fix it. Then again, by jeopardizing his role in the mission Bumblebee had put the Autobot's cause second to whatever was going on. If Bumblebee was a traitor it was Mirage's duty to report him. Couldn't have one of those loose in Special Ops.
No, he would wait. Observe for now, then report his findings. Maybe. After he went on this mission.
It was a slow day in the medbay. Ratchet was apparently fed up with him because First Aid had attended him the rest of the time since his outburst. Did Ratchet suspect…? No, he was probably just angry.
The scout was released in due time with a brace on his injured arm, since that Wheeljack guy hadn't yet finished the necessary parts to fix it. First things first - Bumblebee went to the rec room. He'd had it up to here with medgrade energon.
"Hey, Bumblebee." Someone called behind him, and Bumblebee turned away from the dispenser to see who it was. A short, red mech was waving him over to his table, where two other minibots also sat.
"What's up Cliffjumper?" Bumblebee said easily, sliding into the booth across from him. If this is Cliffjumper the brown guy must be Brawn, he surmised.
Cliffjumper briefly glanced up. "I dunno, the ceiling?"
"Nevermind, dumb joke." Bumblebee recovered.
Brawn elbowed him. "Looks like you've been having some fun."
"Damn mech, what happened?" The third guy, who Bumblebee couldn't quiet put a name to yet, asked. Bumblebee shrugged.
"This? This is nothing. Ravage thought he could get the jump on me, but he won't be coming back any time soon. That's for sure."
"Then that scum got away? Too bad." Cliffjumper sympathized. "If he'd attacked me there wouldn't be enough pieces for even Ratchet to put back together."
"Please."
"What's that supposed to mean Windcharger?"
Brawn interrupted, "Speaking of fun, guess who's back in base?"
"Ooh, oooh, pick me!" Cliffjumper laughed, raising his hand. "One of the femme squads."
"It's a damn shame most of them are already taken." Windcharger lammented.
Brawn shrugged. "But I know there at least ten femmes on base that aren't, since Elita's group is also here."
"Nine. I have dibs on that one." Cliffjumper corrected, shrugging a red shoulder to the right. Everyone at the table subtly glanced in the indicated direction, where several femmes sat at a corner table enjoying their evening rations.
"Which one? The red one?" Brawn asked, taking glances.
"No no, That's Firestar, she's already sparkmates with Security Director. I ain't about to be put in the brig for life. I'm talking about the green one."
"She's cute." Nodded Windcharger amiably. Brawn grinned. "Eh, not my type."
"Pffft, you have a type?" Cliffjumper choked, nearly spitting out his energon. "Do tell."
"That's business."
Cliffjumper pressed, "What business?"
"None of yours." Brawn snapped.
"You're being awfully quiet 'Bee, what's that matter? Ravage got your glossa?" Windcharger said, having noticed the scout's unusual silence. Bumblebee just squinted at him. Wat.
"No?"
"You seem upset."
"I'm not."
"He's probably mad 'cause he knows he doesn't have chance with the ladies while I'm around." Cliffjumper snickered.
Bumblebee smirked. "If I did have a problem, that definitely wouldn't be it."
Everyone (minus Cliffjumper) laughed, and Brawn chuckled, "That's the Bumblebee I know."
That was when the brilliant screech of the base alarms went off. People throughout the rec room immediately jumped up, a few spilling their energon on accident.
"Slag it, not while I'm refueling." Whined Brawn, gulping down the rest of his cube like a mech. Cliffjumper agreed, capping and subspacing his own while adding "This better not be another one of Prowl's drills."
Bumblebee was an idiot and had knocked his energon over. As everyone else quickly went to man their assigned stations, he bent over to pick it up off the floor. When he got up he bumped into someone.
"Sorry." A red and orange femme said out of habit though she kept moving, even quickening her pace at the slip.
It took Bumblebee all of .3 seconds to realize he had heard an English word, and then he was fighting through the crowd after her.
"Hey, wait!" He yelled, but it was drowned out by the excited talking of everyone else. Were they being attacked? Was this an intruder? A drill?
The crowd thinned out as people turned off into different hallways and directors to get to their stations. Bumblebee had no intention of going to his, nor did he even know where it was in such an emergency. That femme...that femme had said "Sorry" to him. In English! He had heard, damnit!
He was catching up to her. What did those doofuses say her name was? Flame-Star? Starfire? Firestar?
Running up to her he grabbed her arm. "Firestar!"
Her momentum forcibly halted, she spun around and snatched it back, barking "What?"
Bumblebee gulped - man he better not be wrong.
"You...what did you say? When I bumped into you an Astro-second ago back there-"
"I said I was sorry you creep!" She snapped, turning away from him.
"But in English."
She froze midstep at those three, damning words. Slowly faced him. A look of horror graced her cream colored faceplates. "H-how do you…?"
"Not here" Bumblebee said, shaking his head. He switched back to Cybertronian. "We can discuss this later. Not in the open like this, and besides. I'm guessing you need to be at your station to keep up the charade, right? Meet me at room 34 on level 7 when this is over. Okay?"
Her optics went as wide as they would go. She nodded dumbly, saying "O-okay" over the alarms.
Her comm buzzed and she mentally clicked it on, still staring at this yellow stranger who stared back and also somehow knew.
-Firestar where are you? Are you okay?-
"I'm fine!" Firestar told Chromia a little too quickly. The yellow guy was leaving, probably going to his station or whatever.
-You coming to your post or what?-
"I'm on my way. Firestar out."