Do your eyes deceive you or I have actually updated this?
Many thanks to Epona Harper, who despite me failing 3 times to get it to her in any legible order (and can I just say how much I HATE whatever hotmail has done to its file attachment procedure now?), managed to get this done so quickly after New Years. Enjoy.
Oh, and Transformers (still) doesn't belong to me.
Prime Number
Four Years Later...
"Wheelie, stop chatting up the kitchen utensils and help!"
"What? I wasn't doing nuthin!"
Sam glared at the little mech. "That's exactly the problem!"
Thin arms wrapped around his waist, and Sam found himself being pulled back into a smaller frame. "Oh, let him be," Mikaela soothed. "He'd be more trouble if he actually helped out. Trust me on this."
Sam turned in her arms and pulled her into a kiss, experience helping them ignore Wheelie's retching in the background for some time. When they finally pulled away, Sam sighed.
"Are you sure we can't just get a dog?"
Mikaela smiled, knelt down, and lifted up a box by Sam's side.
"You have your pet, I have mine," she joked, dumping the box into Sam's waiting arms. "Now go set an example for the impressionable toy."
Sam gave a mock bow before heading through the door of the new house, bought and paid for on the government's dollar. It was times like this (which were, admittedly few) that being an alien ambassador had its perks.
His university years had been...thorough if nothing else. He'd been a campus legend by the time he graduated, with not one club or class that hadn't at least seen him around. He'd graduated full honors in more subjects than he bothered to count, and far more than the university knew about thanks to online courses under fake names. And the number of beautiful cars rolling into his dorm's street had resulted in a rather virulent rumor that he was an undercover secret agent.
Leo had laughed for a good fifteen minutes when he heard that one.
But now he was free...to be thrust into the gig full time.
Joy.
"Head's up!"
Sam's head jerked up and he yelped, hands leaping out and grabbing the box that had been thrown through the balcony doors. Something in it crashed, and Sam winced.
"Oh yeah!" Mudflap yelled. "Bulls eye!"
"My turn, bro!" Skids called. "Whoa!"
Sam dumped the box and stormed to the balcony, staring into the 'garden' – which, thanks to experience and planning ahead, was more like a car park with tarmac and a miniature hanger at the end. He glared at the twins, and threw a look to Bumblebee who was storming over with equal ire.
"Skids! Flap!" Sam yelled. "There is a balcony RIGHT HERE! Just lift the boxes up carefully and leave them!"
The twins looked at each other, before grinning and picking up a box each, bending back to throw. Bumblebee bolted and grabbed the two, but not before the boxes went flying through the air.
Sam sighed, and the boxes froze, before gliding towards him with easy grace. The Camaro just groaned, and began dragging the twins towards the hanger, muttering Cybertronian curses all the way.
The two boxes landed next to Sam with ease, and, seeing that his 'help' couldn't be trusted or was otherwise occupied, Sam leaned over the railing to eye the rest of the boxes in the drive. They trembled slightly before floating up, following him as he walked back inside.
Mikaela was in the doorway, an eyebrow raised.
"Thought you weren't going to use that for simple stuff?"
The boxes fell to the ground, and Sam raised his hands in mock surrender.
"We're using Skids and Mudflap as moving men. What part of that was ever going to be 'simple?'?"
His girlfriend shrugged. "No worse than the last removal men my Dad used."
The moment was broken by the sounds of "The Doom Song" from Invader Zim. Sam broke away and pulled his phone out of his pockets.
"Hello, Edwards."
"I know it was you!"
Sam smiled and walked back to the balcony, putting the phone on speaker and gesturing for Bumblebee to come closer. From the hanger, he could see the twins peering out to hear.
"Seems to me we've had this conversation before," Sam replied. "What exactly have I done now?"
"You know damn well!" the voice screeched, and Sam raised an eyebrow. He didn't normally manage to bug the man to this extent until at least five minutes into a phone call. "NBE 25. Air show. Texas. Smoke writing that stupid symbol into the air in front of thousands of civilians!"
Bumblebee turned away, scratchy laughter echoing from his voice box.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam said in false innocence. "I thought Air Raid was with the Delta team in Canada hunting down-"
"You're not getting away with this!" Edwards interrupted. "This isn't a game!"
"I never said it was," Sam answered. "See you tomorrow, Edwards."
"Dammit, Witwicky, if you hang up on-"
Sam ended the call, and quickly turned off the phone.
"You're a bad, bad, monkey Mojo," Bumblebee offered, and Sam smiled.
"Gotta admit, the air show was a stroke of genius. Knew it was a good idea to try fitting Warp Gate technology on the flyers."
Bumblebee wagged one of his fingers. "I'll get you, I'll get you all!"
Sam shrugged. "Come on, Bumblebee, everyone knows I'm behind it, but nobody's actually stopped me. What does that tell you?"
Bumblebee cocked his head, and Sam grinned, before his phone went off again. This time to the sounds of 'Never Gonna Keep me Down.'
"Just a sec, Bee. Gotta talk to my client," he said, flipping open the phone. "Hey, Leo."
"How could you do this to me, man!"
Sam smirked. "Leo, we had a deal. You got the heads up that Mirage was gonna crash the Auto Show, and Simmons got Air Raid's latest event.
"Oh come on, Sam!" Leo snapped. "How is that even remotely fair? Have you seen the Air Show footage? My site is dying in the hits here!"
"Don't be such a drama" Sam warned, and his phone began to beep. "Oh, look who it is – let's put this on conference...Simmons."
"Kid, thank you so much."
"Oh great, just who I needed to hear."
Simmons laughed. "Don't feel too bad rookie – there's no shame in losing to the better man."
"The next stunt is mine, old man!"
"And yet, it really won't surpass my crown jewel."
"Dead, Reggie! And you're dead too, Sam, if you don't get me something juicy!"
Sam pulled the phone away from his ear. "Why don't I leave you two to discuss it?" he replied, and snapped the phone off.
He was really starting to understand why Simmons was such a bastard most of the time. There was a genuine gratification to omnipotent power...
A few days later, and one house fully settled, Sam and Mikaela were headed for Diego Garcia. They sat together in the hanger, eyes on Bumblebee, stored in his Camaro form for the ride. Mikaela rolled her head onto Sam's shoulder, smiling.
"You really should let Edwards in on your plans, you know."
"Should I?"
Mikaela rolled her eyes and leaned over, shifting in the uncomfortable seat. She gave a half glance over to Bumblebee securely stored just across in the carrier and silently bemoaned the rules that claimed it was unsafe to ride in him during flight.
"It's been four years, Sam. Frankly I'm surprised he hasn't quit yet."
Sam just laughed. "Are you kidding? Look, do you know anyone who has actually quit NEST? They moan, they complain, and sometimes they get fired, but no one ever quits. The five year old boy in them loves it too much.
"Even when cocky post-teen graduates make their lives a bigger hell than the giant robots?" Mikaela teased.
"Especially then."
They sat in companionable silence for some time after that. It wasn't until the pilot commed in their descent for Diego Garcia and Bumblebee revved to life under the netting that Mikaela spoke up again.
"People don't like being kept in the dark, Sam."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Please, Mikaela, you really think Edwards doesn't know what I'm doing? After all these years? He's not that dumb – Simmons goes to his Poker games every month. They could stop me if they really wanted to, but they don't. Because what I'm doing, whether they like it or not, is working.
He stretched and stood, pacing with his arms gesturing wildly.
"Okay...say...say people round out – and I mean hard-cannot-be-denied evidence – that Area 51 existed? Or that the Loch Ness monster was real? Both are ridiculous, impossible ideas, but how much would people really care if they did?
"Why don't you tell me?" Mikaela answered with a smirk, and Sam matched it.
"Not all that much. Why? Because the 'idea' of them existing is already so strong that the actual proof isn't required. So many people believe they exist without proof, that they wouldn't actually see actual evidence as that big of an issue. It downplays the impossibility of it all."
Mikaela stopped and stared at him in disbelief.
"So you've got Autobots doing cameo appearances at air shows, creating fake websites, gate crashing live TV footage and god only knows what else...to make people 'think' they exist?"
Sam grinned. "And when the cat finally comes out of the bag, there's only going to be a handful who didn't already suspect."
Mikaela shook her head in disbelief. "I don't know what's crazier. The fact that you think this will work or the fact that it actually is."
"I know. It's a conundrum."
"So why the constant screaming down the phone?" Mikaela argued.
"So that if it doesn't work, they can all wash their hands and say it wasn't their fault," Sam quipped. "Gotta love politics."
A man in an immaculate, pinstriped suit and hair slicked back with a touch too much gel was waiting for them when they stepped off the plane, moments after Bumblebee have sped down the ramp.
"Witwicky," he stated, keeping out enough ire to keep it non-threatening. Sam pasted on a grin and waved.
"Hi, Edwards. How's things?"
"You don't want to know," the man snapped, and the smirk slid of Sam's face as he noticed just how stressed the man looked.
"Okay, what happened?"
Edwards had gritted his teeth, lips back, before he turned and stormed on his heels back to base, leaving Sam and Mikaela to shrug and follow, Bumblebee cruising behind.
They entered the main hanger, where the multiple screens were a glow with different angles of the same view. Sam paled as he saw the masses of crowds, the TV cameras and the clearly very busy street, where a giant smoking crater was taking up all attention.
"Crap..."
Edwards threw up his hands. "They're saying it's one of theirs but it didn't pay any attention to our landing procedures."
"Who is it?"
"No frickin' clue. Hasn't poked his head up yet."
"Whoever it is, it can't be good."
Sam whipped his head around to see Optimus and Ratchet entering the hanger. Bumblebee transformed as they entered to salute.
"At ease, Bumblebee," Optimus ordered, and turned his attention back to the screens. "It could be any one of my men – not all of them are patient enough to bide their time and follow procedures."
"Now he tells us!" Edwards snapped.
"He could also be injured," Ratchet snapped. "He may not have had a choice."
"Of course he did, he could have landed ANYWHERE but Manhattan during rush hour!"
Sam's phone chose that moment to begin playing 'Never Gonna Keep Me Down.' Leo didn't even wait for him to reply.
"Dude, tell me you're seeing this!"
"I'm seeing it, Leo."
"This one's reserved for my site right?"
"Leo, this isn't my work."
"...Well sh-"
"Hold on, other call."
He swapped the lines and Leo's excited pitch was replaced with an equally familiar tone.
"Tell me this is your work, kid!"
"Can't, Simmons."
"Don't say that! Say that this was all planned and you have it all under control."
"Didn't, don't. Gotta go – mass hysteria to avoid."
"It might not be that bad," Sam could hear someone saying optimistically as he turned off the phone. "A crashed satellite, a military experiment...so long as whoever it is stays inc-"
Everyone froze as something loomed from the crater on the screen. Something big. And angry. With Teeth.
"Me Grimlock has arrived!"
Sam wasn't sure what was louder. Bumblebee's pained whine or Ratchets screams of retribution.
His phone rang again, and he answered without even bothering to check who it was.
"No, this is not my work. Yes, we are sending someone out to deal with it. No, I have no clue how we're handling this. Yes, you can start freaking out now."
And then hung up.
"Who was that?" Lennox asked, still focused on the screen.
"No clue."
His phone rang again. He didn't even bother to answer it this time. Instead he switched it to silent and tossed it on the table, walking out and gesturing to Bumblebee to follow him. Throughout the base, men were assembling, taking orders and heading out. But Sam headed deeper, to a quieter area of the base, before turning to Bumblebee with a frown.
"This is a little ahead of schedule, but I think we're gonna have to go with the worst-case scenario plan. You in?"
Bumblebee saluted.
"Good. Now let's see if we can't get a ride to Manhattan."
Nine hours, several thousand miles of airtime, five streets levelled, a front page photo on every newspaper on the planet and one unconscious, battered and bruised robot T-rex later, Ronald Edwards was danger incarnate for anyone who got in his way. Doors crashed open as he glared at the inhabitants.
"Where is he!"
Optimus winced. Edwards had stormed into the room with the rage of Megatron on his worst day.
"Where is he? Where is that snot-nosed, post-pubescent pain in my ass!"
"Sam?" Jolt questioned, and actually jerked back when the man sent the full force of his glare in the volt's direction.
"No, the other snot-nosed, post-pubescent pain in my ass that the lot of you so wisely made your ambassador. Yes! Sam!"
"Thought you'd be more worried about the Godzilla that made camp on Broadway," Will mused, long since used to Edwards rantings. The man simmered, teeth clenching loud enough to hear.
"Oh, the entire world is freaking out over him. I at least want to chew up the guy that can't step on me first!"
They all spun round when the door opening again, and Edwards glared at the soldier that had arrived with enough force to make him consider stepping back.
"What!"
"Uh sir" the soldier began. "You really want to see this..."
Both the Autobots and the man followed the soldier through to the media centre, where every screen was showing a crowd gathered in an open area. A yellow Camaro was rolling to a stop next to a podium, and Edwards made a strangled noise when Sam stepped out, carrying a suitcase.
"What does he think he's doing?"
"I honestly have no idea," Optimus promised, locked on the images. Sam was walking to a podium, opening the case in his hands, and the crowd began uproar when a small creature jumped out, shook and sat on its edge.
"Wheelie?" Ratchet snapped. "What on Cyberton-"
"Quiet!" Optimus ordered.
Sam was holding up a hand, a silent request for peace. It took a few minutes, but eventually calm descended, though every eye was glued on the small, smirking little robot, moving with too much animation to possibly be a mere machine.
"I know you all have questions," Sam began. "The answers to which the entire world probably should have known a long time ago. But sometimes secrets have to be kept, until we can better accept them. I ask that you listen to my story before you pass judgment.
"I won't pretend I know the exact dates, or just how it all came about, but when human civilisation was just starting, this planet was visited by an alien race known as Cybertronians…
…And long story cut short, machine no longer works, Decepticons were defeated, and humanity lived to see another day. Sadly, Megatron has pride issues, and the Decepticons aren't leaving. Thankfully, neither are the Autobots, who have been the only thing standing in their way. They have tried to remain as hidden as possible at our world leader's requests, but an event like the one this morning was always going to be inevitable. So now it's time for them to step into the light. Any questions?"
There wasn't a hand left down.
At Diego Garcia, the shock and disbelief was almost palatable. Journalists as a whole, are not a quiet group. And that Sam had kept them silent throughout his explanation (with the tiny exception of the shrieks when he 'introduced' Bumblebee) was nothing short of incredible even to those watching the news feed. As they watched Sam take and deflect each question with the practiced ease of a pro, sometimes aided by the foul mouth of Wheelie, it was all they could do to watch.
Finally, from the back of the room, a small ripple of laughter came from somewhere, echoing round the room, until every man and mech was laughing and cheering the boy on the screen.
"Atta boy, Sam!" Will shouted. "Here we are chasing our tails and he's off doing more damage control that Simmons did in his whole life!"
Edwards didn't seem to be sharing the sentiment, wringing his hands and shaking his head.
"This is going to backfire. I know it is."
"Oh, calm down, Edwards," Will mocked. "If nobody's fired at him yet, I think we might actually get away with this."
Ratchet, who was paying more attention to the screen than the antics in the room, visibly jerked as Sam explained plans to make the Autobots for more public.
"Optimus, he wants you on Good Morning America."
"That's nothing" Volt added. "I think he just mentioned Skids and Oprah in the same sentence."
"...Primus."
Optimus kept silent, choosing to watch Sam as Bumblebee knelt behind him to better answer a question forwarded to him. Sam's eyes caught the camera just for a moment, and smirked.
There was no question that the victory look had been meant for the other Prime, and despite knowing he wouldn't see it, Optimus couldn't help but smile back.
To be continued...
Two chapters to go and this will finally be complete! Lets see if I can't get some New Years Drive and get this polished off in the next month...