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Part Seven: In which The Sector makes its move. "No one's going to know what they've done. There won't be a trace left of us."

Favours

7: The Sector

"So you've actually had contact with humans?"

"Yes."

"Dewbot told us to never come into contact with humans. He said that they were dangerous. That's why we had to move all the time, so they'd never find out about us." Spike nestled in the crook of Bumblebee's arm. She drew the line at cuddling up next to the big 'bot, even though it really was that comfortable, being there. It felt right, somehow. Not the he-is-my-spark-mate kind of right. That was Sparkplug's area, and Sparkplug's alone. It was more like…more like…whatever. Spike could figure it out later.

"Some are, but some are different, like all sentient beings. Some are kind. There were two humans who were like siblings to me." Bumblebee said it with such fondness that Spike felt a sudden urge to know more about these humans. It was too bad that she didn't pick up on the hint of sadness, and it was very bad that she didn't really know about a little thing called tact.

"Were? What happened to them?"

Silence met her query, and after an awkward pause, she knew that she had asked the wrong question.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Dewbot and Fury-9 and Kitt and even Sparkplug say how I always ask the wrong questions."

"No, your question…is perfectly alright," Bumblebee said with some difficultly, shifting his grip on her as he ducked another tree branch. "It's the answer that is hard."

"We don't have to talk about it…if you don't want to."

"It's been five years, eleven months, three weeks and two days now," Bumblebee said sadly, speaking almost to himself.

"I'm sure that…wherever they are, they don't blame you," she said suddenly. Bumblebee stopped in his tracks, and looked at her. She looked back up at him solemnly. He was about to reply, when the sounds of weapon fire, followed by screams, filled the area.

X x X

Silence met Simmons' words.

"And you didn't think," Will finally managed to say through clenched teeth. "You didn't think that we had the right to know this?"

Simmons just shrugged. "Hey, you're the highly advanced alien type things," he said carelessly. "Why do you need anyone to tell you anything?" The tension radiated in the air as everyone looked at Simmons with anger and hatred. "Yeah. I'm gonna go now," he announced, and did just that. No one moved. Not even Ironhide. They were pretty sure that if they did, Simmons would, in one way or another, end up as splatter. And whilst none in the room would have minded, they really didn't need another national fiasco. Not when they had a much bigger problem.

Will let out an unsteady breath as soon as Simmons left. "Optimus," he started.

"I know. We must contact Dewbot immediately."

But they were already too late.

X x X

Sparkplug awoke to screams and shouts and flickering lights. Waking with the thought that Spike's escape must have been found out, he bolted upright, saying, "Kitt, it isn't what it looks like—"

"Where's Spike?" Kitt demanded. But his voice wasn't angry. It was urgent, and was laced with panic.

"What's wrong Kitt? What's happening?" Sparkplug had to yell through the pandemonium. The Newsparks were screaming; something was moving swiftly through the woods. The glaring lights were coming. It was coming in their direction.

"Something's here. They're taking Newsparks." Kitt yanked Sparkplug to his feet. "Did they take her, Sparkplug? Where is she?"

"No, Kitt, they didn't—"

"There's one over there!" a voice said, coming from the direction of the lights.

"Run, Sparkplug," Kitt commanded.

"But, but what about—"

"Sparkplug! If there's one time in your life that you obey your elders, let it be this time!" Kitt gave him a forceful shove towards the road. "Make sure that Spike is okay!" Kitt added, knowing that without that motivation, Sparkplug wouldn't leave his fellows behind. Kitt turned to face their attackers, and Sparkplug, though all his instincts told him not to go, did as Kitt ordered him to.

Spike…have to find Spike. I'll make sure that she's okay, and then we'll come and—and what? sneered his doubts and his fears. Two younglings going up whatever it was that was hunting them down?

Sparkplug broke through the forest. A glaring light blinded him on his right. Looking, he caught a glimpse of their attackers—humans, in black suits. "There's one!" one of them yelled. Sparkplug made a forceful twist, transforming at a speed that made him wince, and tore into the road.

No good. The black cars came after him. They were shooting at him. Their pulse guns were shooting the equivalent of lightning at him. He weaved blindly in the road, barely missing the shocks that left sparks crackling in the asphalt, but no other evidence. No one's going to know what they've done. There won't be a trace left of us. We are so—

He changed lanes too early, and one of the sparks grazed his front tire, immobilizing it. Screeching to a stop, he transformed, the sparks going up his circuits making transformation painful. Left with no choice, he raised his cannon at the attackers.

"Aw, little baby robot wants to play," mocked one of them, aiming the pulse gun at him. They surrounded him, bringing with them a heavy black net. Sparkplug readied his cannon.

Suddenly, a look of horror overcame their faces, just as the moonlight was covered by a large shadow that swallowed their frames. "Dammit. We are so fucked," muttered one of the men. Sparkplug turned around the same time that the men in black pelted away.

His first thought was: Damn that's a big cannon. The second thought was: That paintjob is an eyesore. The third thought was: Why is Spike…being held like a doll? It was the sparks getting to his processor, of course, because in the next second, he blacked out.

X x X

"Sparkplug! Sparkplug!" Spike yelled to her fallen spark-mate, wriggling out of Bumblebee's grasp and landing on the asphalt. She yelped when she fell on her already abused leg. Bumblebee picked her up again, holding her more firmly this time. She tried again to get to her spark-mate, but Bumblebee was not going to let her fall. So she settled for yelling at him. "What happened? What did they do?" she demanded. Bumblebee kneeled next to the red youngling.

"Charge weapons," he hissed, upon seeing the little blue sparks that danced mockingly on the youngling's relatively thin armour. "It must have overloaded his processor. He's in stasis lock—equivalent of a human coma," he added, seeing Spike's confused look. Then her look turned to one of fear. "Ratchet can get him out of it," he added hastily, thinking Way to comfort a youngling, Bee.

"Bumblebee. This is Optimus. Come in."

"Bumblebee here."

"Bumblebee, I don't know what you are doing out there, but the Newsparks need assistance. Our emergency message to Dewbot was interrupted by the Sector. We are already on our way, but you are much closer to where they—"

"Optimus, it's too late. They've already struck."

On instinct, Bumblebee covered Spike's hearing processors as Ironhide's voice could be heard over the communication link, cursing. Spike only gave him a look that said, Please. I've heard much worse.

"Have you apprehended any of them?"

"No, sir. The ones I've encountered got scared off."

"Have you found any Newsparks who managed to escape?"

"Two younglings, sir, both in need of medical care. One's leg was hurt in a blast, and the other got grazed with a charge weapon."

There was a pause on the other end of the line as the adult mechs processed the words "younglings." "Do what you can. We'll be there shortly."

"The Sector?" Spike asked quietly after a while, afraid to ask the question to which she knew no safe answers lay. Bumblebee could only nod. "Sector Seven," she continued, her voice full of fear and dread. "Spark killers. Murderers." She looked up at him. "Check the woods. There can still be more of us!"

"But—"

"Please! I'll stay with Sparkplug." Her look continued to beg him long after her words were spoken. Please, please, please.

Bumblebee gently moved the younglings over to the side of the road, being extremely careful with the one in stasis lock. Ratchet would have told him not to move the youngling…but the risks of them being caught out in the open by a moving vehicle outweighed the risks of moving them to a relatively safer location. Bumblebee briefly touched Spike's head as he transferred his frequency over to her. "This is my frequency. If any of them come back, call me right away, got it?"

"Got it."

As Bumblebee turned away, he didn't even register the thought that trudged its way from the deepest corners of his processors. It was the thought that: Unless it was a life-or-death situation, I never really could say no to either Sam or Mikaela. Ever.

X x X

The forest was in ruins. Trees had bent and their remains were scattered everywhere. There were no traces of the Newsparks, except…

There was the fearsome one there; the one that had threatened them in the alley after they had scared Spike. His optics looked up unseeingly into the sky, and sparks jumped from wire to wire. He had taken a full blast from a charge weapon.

He was only in stasis lock…but unlike Sparkplug, who had only been grazed by the weapon, Kitten's stasis lock could last a long, long time.

They weren't interested in the big ones, Bumblebee realized as he looked sympathetically at Kitt. That's why they left us alone. That's why they didn't waste their ammo on a secluded area with only one youngling. Because I was there.

And…and he recalled how the Sector had run at the sight of him. Bumblebee had thought that it was the sight of his large weaponry that had scared them. But that couldn't have been the case. They certainly blasted Kitt without much thought. It was because…because…

They recognized me. They knew I was an Autobot. Bumblebee could only bitterly think of them as cowards.

X x X

"Can you heal them, Ratchet?" Optimus asked gravely. Ratchet looked up from his scans. Spike winced at the tirade she knew—she somehow knew—was coming.

"Slag it all, Optimus! I'm a medic, not a miracle worker! We don't have the materials here to fix her leg, let alone get those two out of stasis lock!"

"If we bring them back to the base?"

"Well, then we'd have a different story—"

"We'll go," Spike said quietly, knowing what they were struggling with. "We'll go to your base." Her optics looked into those of Ratchet and Optimus, and they were struck by the familiarity…with…with something they just couldn't put a finger on. "We trust you." She then looked at her comrades, who were quite out of it for the time being. "Well, I trust you," she amended, and then rushed her words to get her meaning across. "But I think that I can safely say that when I say I trust you, that I trust you with them, so in extension, we trust you." Her optics looked up to meet theirs again.

Optimus looked at the youngling, her rambling sticking something deep within him. And may we be worthy of that trust, he thought, the memory of two other younglings—albeit human younglings—placing their trust in him coming back to him, unbidden and still painful.

He nodded. "Autobots, transform and roll out." And with a purpose for the trailer attached to his alt-form, Optimus took the Newsparks back to base, heralded by a very cranky medic, an angered weapons specialist, a saddened lieutenant, and a scout who was very, very anxious about the precious cargo that Optimus' trailer was holding.