"Me like this world," Grimlock said, cheerfully, as Mikaela navigated traffic towards the base. Bumblebee had expressed a bit of nervousness about it, but had been required to leave her and Grimlock alone together because greater duties called: a mission. He'd left very early the morning before to catch a flight to God-knew-where. She had not been entirely sure if Bumblebee was worried about leaving her alone with Grimlock, or if he was concerned about a possible attack ...
"Yeah?" She asked, then hastily hit the brakes to avoid an erratically lane-changing SUV. Ratchet had not been kidding about Grimlock's mass -- when she stomped on the brakes, the tires locked, and the mustang lost traction and started to spin out. Her heart caught in her throat and she tried frantically to steer out of the spin, but knew she was going to lose control ... and then the car took over and with better-than-human reflexes, Grimlock fishtailed a couple of times but managed to avoid a wreck.
"Sorry," she apologized, feeling horribly embarrassed.
"Me drive." Grimlock said, decisively. "Me hit someone, they hurt. You teach traffic laws, now. Human reflexes not good enough for this. Smash not good if not in battle."
"Yeah, sure." She slumped back into the seat, hands in her lap and nowhere near the steering wheel. "Sorry. I'm a good driver, I swear, you just have a bit of a learning curve."
Grimlock did not handle like a normal car; there was just too much inertia. Acceleration was okay, because Autobots were never short of power. He was only a little slower than a normal Mustang. However, stopping was a problem, as was, sometimes, steering. Basic physics came into play -- she was trying to stop or turn forty thousand pounds on tires that only had about a scanty few square inches of contact with the road each. Even Autobot tires, which were emphatically not like human-made tires, had their limitations.
"It okay. No smash anyone. All good." Grimlock assured her. Then, with what she swore was a mischevious chuckle, he added, "Me save smash for Megatron, later."
"Well, hit him once for me, will you, when it comes time?"
"Me, Grimlock, will do that," Grimlock promised. Then he said, "Uh-oh. Break traffic laws?"
They had, unexpectedly, a cop car on their tail, lights flashing away. Mikaela said a rude word. "No, not you. You're fine. It's probably the crack in the windshield and the lack of a hood. Just pull over, and I'll talk to him. Hopefully, he'll let us go with a warning ..."
"Make problem go away." Grimlock said, and did just that. Suddenly, his windshield was completely intact and the hood appeared to be in place. She wasn't sure if he'd thrown up a hologram or if he'd materialized a new hood with nanotech. He certainly had the mass to spare for the latter, but not the energon -- she felt guilty about that. Hopefully their supplies would arrive soon. He said, firmly, "Better."
"Yeah," she blinked, then added, "I probably should have told you to do that before we left the garage. The cop will most likely just assume he was seeing things ..." A bad thought struck. "Do you have an Autobot emblem anywhere?"
"Me make?"
"No!" That was asking for trouble they didn't need.
She leaned over and popped the glove compartment open even as Grimlock was finding a place to pull over beside the highway. And then she started swearing, concluding with, "... insurance card! It's in my glove compartment in the real Mustang! Damn it!"
"Papers important?" Grimlock asked.
"Don't tell me you can materialize a copy for mee?" she said, hopefully.
"Sorry. Not do paper. Not detach from body. Hologram, cop can't hold. Sorry." He added, somewhat sourly, "Stupid humans. Better to put insurance info in central database. Have cops check database. Simple. No paper."
"Damn." She had no idea what they'd do if she didn't have her insurance card on her. It would probably be a hassle, however, and one she wasn't looking forward to.
"Sorry," Grimlock repeated. He didn't sound truly apologetic. He sounded a trifle annoyed.
"Ah, it'll work out. Not the complete end of the world ..." She was starting to understand the mixture of affection and frustration that the other 'bots had towards Grim. Even Optimus didn't seem to be immune to it, which spoke volumes about this 'bot's lack of agreeability.
At that instant, as Grimlock was pulling to a halt, she looked in the rear view mirror and saw a rather familiar face -- actually, a hologram -- driving the vehicle. "Grimlock!" she said in alarm, "That's not the police, that's Barricade!"
"Protect girl!" Grimlock said, with what sounded like glee, and accelerated so hard they left a cloud of smoke behind. He fishtailed violently, swerved into traffic, crossed four lanes of rush hour gridlock with amazing agility, then dove through the median, whipped around, and zoomed across traffic in the opposite lanes. Mikaela was not a woman who was inclined to scream, but she did issue a startled and frightened, "FUCK!" as he kept right on going -- up an embankment, through a chain link fence that parted like cobwebs, the wrong way down a highway access road, through a bowling alley's parking lot at a very high rate of speed, down an alley where he sent garbage cans flying and garbage into the air like confetti, and then he whipped out into traffic on a busy road.
Lights flashing, a cop pulled out of a side street in front of them.
"Me, Grimlock, smash!"
"That's the real thing!" She was dry-mouthed with terror as he rocked up on two wheels to fit between the police car and a light post, without slowing down one bit, and with no more than an inch to spare. She saw the real police officer's startled blue eyes as they zoomed past his squad car.
It was official: Grimlock was a better driver than she was.
He careened around a corner so hard that he probably violated a few laws of Newtonian physics, and he pulled enough gees to dim her vision in the process. With only a slight fishtail Grimlock straightened up, hit the gas like he had rockets under the back bumper, left a cloud of black smoke behind, and sent jaywalking pedestrians scattering in front of a bus stop.
"Don't hit the people!" She said, genuinely scared. "They're not extra points, I swear!"
"Grimlock no hit people," he sounded offended at the idea, "Make mess of new hood!"
And then a second cop car zoomed up behind them, so fast that it could only be Barricade. He screamed past Grimlock at a very high rate of speed, executed a neat sliding stop, and started to transform in front of them. She expected Grimlock to turn aside, or slide to a stop. Clearly, so did Barricade.
Grimlock accelerated, somewhat to her surprise: she would have sworn he was going flat out already!
Forty thousand pounds of Autobot packed into a Mustang-sized body hit Barricade in mid transformation. The noise was deafening, the impact sent Grimlock spinning down the street and her shoulder was bruised by the seatbelt, but Barricade was thrown into the air. He hit the street with a crunch and stayed down. Grimlock silently stopped in the middle of the road for a moment, watching the Decepticon -- or possibly gloating, she wasn't sure. She did a quick inventory of all her body parts, and was shocked to discover she was totally uninjured, though she figured she'd have plenty of whiplash later. Given the wrecks and general physical abuse she'd experienced in the last few weeks, it was probably time to see a chiropractor ...
Barricade was broken and mangled and motionless, with one leg folded backwards underneath him, and the other actually detached. He looked like he'd been hit by a bomb blast.
"Isn't physics grand?" She grinned, deciding she wasn't sorry in the least if he was permanently down for the count.
Grimlock said, with satisfaction matching her own, "Me, Grimlock, smash!"
Optimus answered his cell phone on the second ring. "Hello, Mikaela."
"Hi, Optimus," she said, unable to keep the good cheer out of her voice. "Hot Shot just took down Barricade."
"Are you uninjured?" He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. She noted he didn't ask about Hot Shot, err, Grimlock.
"I'm fine. I'll be stiff tomorrow, but okay. Barricade never knew what hit him."
Optimus sounded a little quieter than she would have expected when he said, "I imagine he did not."
She added, "You might want to send a team down to pick the mess up -- I decided sticking around to talk to the police wasn't the greatest of ideas, given that there could be more Decepticons around."
"Wise thinking. A fight between Hot Shot and the Decepticons could put more lives in danger." Optimus paused, as if considering the problem for a moment, then said, "I would appreciate it if you would pick Sam up from the college."
"He's in class until noon -- do you think he's in danger?"
"Please pick him up after his last class. And, Mikaela, my assumption with Sam is that he is always in danger," Optimus said, in a voice that sounded far too calm, and somehow unusually reserved, "but Megatron must know by now that we are guarding Sam very carefully, so I am not overly concerned that he is in imminent threat of an immediate attack. That danger will grow as Megatron's forces regroup and recoordinate after their last defeat. This attack on you was most likely intended simply to be a statement, as it is too early for Megatron to try a scenario involving a strategic kidnapping. If Barricade had killed you it would have sent a powerful message to us that he was very displeased."
"Optimus," she said, deciding to come right out and ask, "is there something wrong?"
Belatedly, she remembered they were talking over cell phones -- and Optimus was highly suspicious that the Decepticons could monitor their calls. He said he'd analyzed the battle two weeks ago, and the pattern of attacks clearly indicated that the level of Decepticon intelligence was too good for there to be any other reasonable explanation. However, he didn't seem to think that this was sensitive information, because he simply said, "The reason I ask that you pick Sam up is that Bumblebee was badly injured. While he has suffered no permanent damage, I suspect it will do his spirits good to see both of you. He will be in the repair bay for several days. Also, I believe that Ratchet could use your assistance, Mikaela, as much of the work needed is in very tight spaces."
Optimus hesitated, then added, "The attacking Decepticon was a mech named Fangface. He was once a very good friend of Bumblebee's."
"... Oh." She thought that one through, and realized that Optimus was likely worried about Bumblebee's emotional state. Friends would help. However, Mikaela had a very good idea about how Optimus felt about Bumlebee -- he valued all his warriors, but Bee was somehow special to everyone, including Optimus. Though she doubted he would give her anything resembling an honest answer, Mikaela asked, "How are you doing, Optimus?"
He surprised her. She wasn't expecting a real response. However, he said, in a very tired voice, so weary it surprised her, "Mikaela, Autobot emotions are very similar to human ones. It has not been an easy few weeks for any of us, including myself. Do not forget that there was a time when Decepticons and Autobots were one people, and Megatron and I ruled together as brothers."
Forget that? She had never known it. Brothers? However, before she could ask anything further, he said gently, "This is not a conversation to have over the phone, Mikaela. Please retrieve Sam and come to the base. I believe Bumblebee will be very glad to see the two of you."
Sam's last class of the morning was Astronomy, and on Tuesdays, he did not have afternoon classes. She left Grimlock parked in the lot between the '78 Thunderbird and nearly-as-ancient Geo Metro with eco-political bumper stickers and headed over to the Astronomy class to meet him.
"Obviously," she overheard Sam say as she rounded the corner, "interstellar travel is possible because the Autobots do it. Routinely."
"I'm just saying there is no way to solve the energy needs," the other voice belonged to a short, unkempt man wearing tweed. "It's seriously a violation of multiple laws of physics to travel faster than the speed of light. In theory it's possible, but in reality, you'd have to solve some very basic problems involving energy needs that I'm not sure are solvable."
"Oh, professor, this is my girl friend," Sam said, and he draped a friendly arm around her waist. Arcee, who was "leaning against her motorcycle" behind the professor, waved at her.
The professor was giving her a look of appraising interest. "Looks like the publicity's done well for you, boy."
Sam flushed dark red, going from annoyed to angry in a heartbeat. She could feel rage pulse through him in a tense, furious wave, and he started to say, "I'll have you know ..."
Mikaela interrupted Sam before he could get a good mad rant going, "Actually, it was the crappy POS that he was driving that got us together."
Sam choked down a laugh, relaxing against her. This, between them, was a longstanding and very old joke. The professor didn't get it, didn't have the context, but Sam did. He squeezed her in a sideways hug and said, "Obviously, the 'bots have solved those unsolvable problems."
"Are you sure?" The man shook his head. Behind him, Arcee's hologram rolled her eyes. He continued, "I mean, it would be just as plausible, if not moreso, that they are truly government machines that have gone rogue, perhaps another government. The Japanese are doing amazing things with robots."
Arcee snickered openly at this point, and then said, "Hey, Sam, the big boss wants you and Mikaela to pick it up a bit. Ratchet needs some help from little humans with little hands and he doesn't want the military poking around in Bumblebee's innards."
"Oh, yeah, sure," Sam said, "let's go."
"Hey," the professor said, indicating Arcee with a wave, "you know this bombshell is always hanging around for your man?"
Sam froze, eyes flashing dangerously dark. "You ..."
Mikaela wouldn't release his waist, effectively stopping the confrontation from becoming physical -- and Sam was angry enough for that. Sam was loyal, her insecurities and the occasional molestation by a pretender aside. He took it very personally when someone implied otherwise. She snorted, "If I was going to be jealous of a robot, it'd be the POS Camaro, not Arcee."
Arcee threw her hologram's head back and laughed audibly, and Sam relaxed again, grinning as well. He said, "Professor, meet Arcee. I'm afraid you'll have to look but not touch on this girl, though because that's not a person -- that's a hologram."
Arcee blew him a kiss, then disappeared in a blink. The man stared, then said in disbelief, "Was that ... how did she ..."
She reappeared, and said calmly, "My people were traveling the stars when your ancestors still had tails, buddy. We solved the problems you were describing a long time ago. -- C'mon, Sam. If you're not going to ride with me, catch a ride with Hot Shot and Mikaela, but we do need to roll out."
Mikaela had expected to see Bumblebee with, perhaps, parts missing, but awake and coherent and conscious. If not talking, she figured he'd at least be playing clips of music and quotes from movies, making expressive motions with his hand, and generally being Bumblebee.
When they stepped into the repair bay, however, he did not even look up. He was seated on the floor, one arm gone, and a huge hole in his chest. The Camero's bumber had been completely removed, what was left of it, and behind it was an open cavity full of Autobot innards. The light in his blue eyes was very dim, and he seemed to be staring off into space a thousand miles away. He was propping himself up with his good hand, and tubes ran from his chest to a bank of equipment behind him.
"Bee," Ratchet said, voice curiously gently, from his position at an Autobot-sized work bench, "Bee, you have visitors."
Bumblebee looked up at that, saw them, and then shifted his weight so that he was seated without support of his hand, and then extended that hand beckoningly in their direction.
Ratchet said, in a somewhat snarky tone, "He's feeling a bit sorry for himself, I think."
"What's wrong with him?" Mikaela asked, as Sam simply threw his arms around Bee's neck and gave him an awkward but heartfelt hug while carefully avoiding all the tubes and wires. Bee carefully returned the embrace, then waved her over so he could hug both of them together. Hugging an Autobot was something like snuggling with a pile of scrap metal, but the sentiment was there. He was very glad to see them.
"He can't talk," Ratchet said, "which may actually be a good thing, or I'd have to listen to him complain. His voicebox decided to crap out again, no surprise there. And he doesn't have access to the memory module containing his MP3s, so he really can't communicate much by sound. He's still got radio frequencies." Ratchet tilted his head sideways, as if listening to something, then said, "He says to tell you that he'll be fine, and you shouldn't worry."
"What happened?"
Ratchet shrugged. "Lack of maintenance parts. He had a coolant line cut during battle, which isn't a big deal. We lose those all the time. We have about three times the actual cooling capacity that we need -- redundancy is a good thing. However, we also have valves that are supposed to stop the leaks, and one of his was corroded, and it leaked massively. He ran out of coolant, and then his main pump, which is supposed to last several thousand years, sucked air. Turns out that part is a thousand years past its expiration date too, and we've been using substandard fluids on top of that, because of the war. It won't come back online now."
"Yeesh. Can you replace it?" Mikaela didn't like the sound of that.
Ratchet made a noise that sounded like an obscenity in his native language. "If I were on Cybertron, easily. I can't even keep the damned external chiller running here fast enough to keep all his processors online. We've got a bigger one on order."
"And the pump?" Sam promptedly, with a hand still resting on Bee's shoulder.
"I'm about ready to go kill a Decepticon for parts." Coming from Ratchet, who was morally opposed to killing and had made this clear on multiple occasions in their earshot, the comment was simply pure and unadulterated snark stemming from extreme frustration. "Unfortunately, the two I'd most like to kill have parts that wouldn't fit."
"Barricade no need his," Grimlock suggested. "Me, Grimlock, smash."
Bumblebee greeted this news with a thumb's up and then a salute in Grimlock's direction, and a good bit more animation than they'd seen since they'd walked in the door. This, however, quickly subsided.
Ratchet sighed, and said, "Grim, you didn't blow your cover, did you?"
"No transform."
"He ran him down at about a hundred miles an hour and nailed him in the middle of a transformation," Mikaela said, "I'm not sure that he knew what hit him. We're also not totally sure that he's dead, but Grimlock did turn him into a nice pile of scrap metal."
Ratchet shook his head in mild disbelief at this news, but his next words confirmed he already knew about the incident. "Optimus said he took a trailer and went to pick the body up, and it was gone. I'm guessing he's probably not dead. Barricade's pretty damn tough. However, I sure wouldn't want his repair bills. Grimlock's probably got several times the mass that Barricade does."
"Mm. Guess we'll find out eventually." She patted Bee on the arm then stood on her toes to look into the hole in his chest. Morbid, yes, but she was curious about how Autobots ticked. She could see a hole where parts had obviously been removed, quite a bit of yellow fluid sprayed everywhere, and a fascinating assortment of wires, mechanical bits, and the occasional shimmering swirl of nanobots. Bee didn't seem to mind her looking; he reached up and moved some of the tubes aside so she could see better.
"Can't his nanobots fix the problem?" She asked, watching as they swarmed a dent in his chest plate and it smoothed out before her eyes.
"Beyond their design specs, I'm afraid," Ratchet glanced up from his work. He appeared to have a water pump in his hands of human make, one that he'd dissembled down to its component parts.
"Are you going to be able to use human-made stuff to fix him?" Sam asked.
"I'm hoping the supply ship has the parts we need. Anything we do with human equipment is a temporary fix, and it's a hell of a job to make anything work." Ratchet picked up a sautering iron and did something to the water pump that required his complete attention for a moment.
"The problems," Ratchet explained, when he had a chance to pause and look at them, "are manifold. First off, Autobots ground positive -- has to do with how our weapons work -- and most earth equipment grounds negative. Then we use different standardized physical measurements: diameters, thread count on screws, that sort of thing. This means I have to machine every single part to fit and that counts for time and aggravation, if nothing else. And most electronic parts need to be rewired or I need to design a workaround due to the grounding issue."
"So it's a compatability thing?" Mikaela said. This didn't sound like an insurmountable problem, particularly given Ratchet's skills.
"Then," he continued, "most earth electronic equipment is designed for either 115 or 220 volts alternating current, or twelve volts DC, for the input. There are standardized amps, too. Autobot processors run at a much higher amperage and a much lower voltage than almost any earth design -- the higher the voltage, the farther a spark will travel, and trust me, you do not want stray arcing when your neurons are silicon and are so closely spaced that the tolerance between them is measured in molecules, and you've got the power demands of a small thermonuclear reactor. Arc-out is analogous to a stroke in humans and usually happens because there's an electrical problem somewhere is in the 'bot's body."
"That's why you're having problems fixing Bee's voice box with a human equivalent?" she guessed.
"Solved those problems," Ratchet said, "They are just just aggravating, not unfixable. Bigger problem is human equipment simply isn't durable. The average human computer? If you drop it from human waist height to the floor, it breaks. The first solution we tried for Bee's voicebox lasted one day and then gave out when he was dancing to some music. Just jumping up and down a bit. It simply couldn't take the inertia. You can imagine what the stresses of a decent battle do to human-made bits. We build things to last millenia, and humans build things to be disposable. Different mindset, different needs."
He rested his forehead in his hand for a moment. "I think I have the pump problem solved, but the bigger problem is his valves. They're all corroded and the same thing could happen in the next battle. I've been trying to come up with a solution using human technology, but it's not as easy as it sounds -- the digital sensors have to be able to detect a number of different inputs, talk to his processors, and react appropriately, but they also need to be able to react independently in case he's in stasis lock, or a wire's cut. They don't just cut off flow when there's a leak, but also send coolant where it's needed, when it's needed."
Mikaela tilted her head sideways, considering. She could see what he was talking about -- and that did sound like a custom job. Particularly if there was the voltage problem he'd mentioned. Then she frowned, and said, "Basically, you need a valve that shuts off the flow of fluid if the pressure drops below a point, but allows the flow of fluid when it's needed?"
"Yeah." Ratchet poked the pump with a screwdriver a couple of times.
"Hnh. Might be able to make something out of some plumbing parts, as a temporary fix, for that one valve. Better than broken parts, anyway. Just do it all mechanical."
Ratchet stared at her. She had no idea what he was thinking, if he liked the idea or not. She could usually figure out a 'bot's emotional response to something from their body language, and she was getting good at figuring it out even when it was alien body language because they weren't making a point of "seeming human" -- but when they were being nearly motionless, as Ratchet was, she was left clueless.
"Don't know if that would work or not," she shrugged diffidently, "it's just an idea."
He was still silent. By now she knew when to suspect that an Autobot who was thinking hard, and possibly doing some hasty google searches. Which meant he was likely at least considering the idea. She hoped. Alternately, he could simply be thinking about how to gently break it to her that she was being a complete idiot or -- given this was Ratchet -- possibly coming up with the absolutely most sarcastic thing possible to say to her about her stupidity.
It turned out that neither was the answer, however. He suddenly started moving again, and said briskly, "Mikaela, that's actually not a bad idea, and it's something I've considered. My concern with that approach, however, is that most of the parts you mention are comprised of materials which have some oxidative tendencies and which would have functional lifespans measured in months or years, not centuries. As a stopgap measure, they may work, however." He was still for a moment, again, then said, "Something's going on at the North gate. Optimus said for you and Grimlock to go check it out."
"Me?" She stared at him, a bit dumbfounded. Apparently, he had been carrying on two conversations at once, one of which had been over either cell phones or inter-robot frequencies. "What if it's Decepticons?"
"He thinks it's probably media or fans. Apparently there's some cars at the gate that are asking to speak to him." He chuckled. "If it were Decepticons they wouldn't be asking nicely."
"And he wants me to check it out them?"
She might have trouble reading Autobot emotions at times, but the reverse was clearly not true. Ratchet made a snorting sound reaction to her incredulity. "Don't worry, reporters do not bite. Just give them Bumblebee's gmail address and advise them that he'll review any requests for interviews -- he's been acting as our PR point of contact. Don't promise interviews; Optimus says that we are not going to overdo it in that regard as it's too time consuming. And as soon as I can get this pump installed Bee'll be functional again, and can review things."
"Can't the soldiers at the gate do it?"
"They tried. They're being very persistent. Short of arresting them, there is no getting rid of them. They're demanding to speak to Optimus, and Optimus is in a meeting with some heads of state right now. Ironhide and Arcee are an hour from here running an errand for me. Sideswipe is running an errand for Optimus. Inferno's running some drills with the human troops. Jolt and Doc are off doing a circuit of talk shows, which is why Doc's not helping me here. And Optimus says he trusts Grimlock to behave more than he does the twins."
"Optimus has to be insane ..." she muttered, walking back to the Mustang.
"To do his job?" Ratchet assured her, "Absolutely."
She shook her head, and waved at Bee. "Hang in there, buddy."
He gave her a thumb's up in reaction to that.
There were three vehicles politely waiting behind the low wooden bar across the road. One was a Mack truck with metallic blue paint and beside it was a DeLorean. The third car was a Porshe. The three barely fit side by side.
A freaking DeLorean, gleaming stainless steel in the sunlight, looking distinctly retro. "And Ratchet thought he already had parts problems ..." she regarded the DeLorean in amusement from the Mustang's driver's seat. Somebody liked to be noticed. And a bright red Porsche. And a Mack Truck. And yeah, those were mechs. Had to be. No doubt in her mind at all.
"Me use thermal imaging, no see people drive. See mechs, maybe." Grimlock didn't sound particularly concerned as he stopped, facing the others, and this was not news to her. She'd figured out what she was looking at as soon as she saw the trio. A DeLorean? Right. Gotta be a robot."Decepticons wouldn't be polite," she decided, and hoped she was right when she opened the door and stepped out. This could be an ambush, but that Mack rig was big enough to be concealing an Optimus-sized 'bot. They could have steamrolled right over the two soldiers, with their puny little guns, at the gate. Decepticons would: she'd yet to meet a Decepticon who had any respect for human authority.
The soldiers looked relaxed. They hadn't figured it out yet, and Optimus and/or Lennox probably needed to have a chat with them about being aware of robots in disguise pulling up to the gate.
Grimlock didn't warn her to be careful, which meant that either he wasn't worried, or he figured she knew to be.
She ducked under the low wooden gate, and approached the DeLorean. The hologram in the driver's seat said, "Hey, beautiful. We're here for Optimus."
"He's in a meeting. Who am I talking to?" She ignored the hologram and glanced into the DeLorean. The vehicle's back seat was crammed full of metal boxes, and there was a large crate of some kind strapped into the passenger seat. Supplies, she thought. Oh, wonderful. The supply ship must be here early. Wonder why they didn't radio ahead? Maybe they are keeping radio silence.
"Fred," the hologram said, giving a name that was almost certainly fake.
She snorted. "My name's Mikaela Banes. Ratchet said for me to run interference out here because we thought you were reporters. I'll be perfectly happy to run interference anyway, if you're not going to give me your real names."
"Ratchet said ..." the 'bot trailed off, and the hologram stared at a point somewhere past her head. The image's lips did not move when the car said, "Do the soldiers know ... Optimus has mentioned you, I believe."
"Ayup."
"Wish I'd gotten that memo. Last I heard, they were deep undercover," the truck said, on the other side of the DeLorean, and she stepped back as all three transformed. The DeLorean was about as tall as Bumblebee, and Decepticon-silver, but there was a reassuring Autobot emblem on his chest plate. "Wheeljack," he introduced himself, sounding disgruntled. He gestured behind him at the Mack Truck. "This is my boss, Ultra Magnus, and the kid's Hot Rod."
"And we understand you have some wounded?" Magnus asked. "We are here with parts."
"Yeah, Bee's in pretty bad shape. Maybe you two should head straight for the repair bay -- just follow me." New Autobots! She thought, giddily. She wondered if she should call ahead ... nah, if these three wanted to plow past her, they could, so it was unlikely they were unfriendly. They were still standing around waiting for someone to remember to lift the gate -- the soldiers were gaping and not reacting. And cell phone transmissions could be intercepted. As far as she knew, Grimlock didn't yet have the ability to use the inter-robot radio system due to his damage.
"Will do," Ultra Magnus said, in a tone of voice that made her look way up at him and squint. He sounded quite a bit like Optimus. "The wounded should be attended to first."
Grimlock hadn't said a word, obeying Optimus's orders not to break his cover -- the human guards were not "in the know." However, as soon as the passenger door shut, he said, "Autobots kick butt now!"
"Friends of yours?" she asked, grinning at his tone of voice.
"Wheeljack fix Grimlock lots of times!"
"So Magnus is a leader?"
Grimlock said, sounding disgusted, "Worse leader than Optimus. Me, Grimlock, better leader than that. Artistocrat not warrior." He paused, then allowed, "Magnus friend. Optimus just jerk."
