"Do you realize, do you have any clue at all, any idea, any concept of what we're looking at?" the words tumbled out of Jax's mouth, "Any notion or inkling?"

Bumblebee didn't respond. They were close to the human settlement, and he had little control over the volume of his voice. He wished silently that Jax would display a little more control of his own. They didn't want to be noticed by the humans, who were camped near a river.

Jax fidgeted while Bumblebee gazed at the humans, not sure what he was expected to see. He noticed several retrieving water from the river. Pieces of animals and plants made up the majority of their tools and shelters, though rocks came into play at baffling times and in befuddling ways. The concept of throwing rocks was so far back in Cybertronian history that Bumblebee had never even heard of it.

"We're seeing prehistory!" Jax exclaimed, shaking Bumblebee by the shoulder.

Bumblebee disentangled himself from his exuberant companion. He wasn't accustomed to being mauled by those on his own side. Actually, he'd grown used to being alone, and quiet. He wasn't sure how to respond to Jax, or what Jax was actually talking about.

"History barely records weapons that aren't installed by a mechanic," Jax gestured to Bumblebee's arm.

Beneath the armored shell lay the blaster he'd possessed for almost as long as he'd been in military service. He'd taken good care of his weapon, and never had to replace any part of it. He sometimes forgot that it hadn't always been a piece of him.

"There was a time when we built weapons and had to carry them by hand."

Bumblebee followed that far. He knew that. Jax might think it a thing of the past, but Bumblebee had actually seen it before. Archaic as the concept seemed, those weapons were sometimes pretty effective, though never as much as an installed blaster or blade. The fine control and awareness of the weapon that was inherent to it being a part of you was more than a match for any separate weapon. Bumblebee's blasters were a true extension of himself.

"But I never thought... I mean, energon based weapons have been the core of our military and civilian technology for as long as recorded history," that much, at least, was true, "But these creatures... they haven't even discovered the atom yet. And that's just basic science. Why, they've got projectile weaponry! Who ever heard of such a thing?"

Bumblebee tilted his head, taking in the various weaponry in the camp anew. Projectile weapons? What did that mean? And what significance did it have? Had Cybertronians once been like this? He couldn't see how, though part of him wanted to believe it. After all, there was a critical difference between bots and men. Humans were organic. Their world was organic. It was different. It always would be.

That was good, right?

Bumblebee shook his head. He was a soldier, not a scientist or philosopher. Jax was the expert in these matters. And if he thought that using devices to throw objects at fleeing animals was historically significant, who was Bumblebee to argue with him?

"Projectile weapons," Jax laughed, "Of course. It's obvious, once you think about it. Naturally that would have been what came prior to blasters. I wonder if there was an intermediate step... I mean, that's a pretty huge gap to leap, technologically speaking. But sometimes big leaps happen if you have a genius at work, or a spectacular accident that leads to research. Ha, they're just like us!"

Bumblebee stiffened instinctively. The last time he'd heard that, the sentence had been spoken by an Autobot in reference to Decepticons. In the end, he'd had to shoot that bot in the spark himself. But this was different. These were humans, not Decepticons. It was different. Still, he looked on the humans with new wariness. They were primitive now, but one day... one day. If Jax was right, it was only a matter of time. He felt a tremor run through him as he filed away that information. It was a dangerous thought he'd just had. Perhaps someday it would be valid, but not now. Right now, the humans were harmless, fragile, easily crushed. Right now, he had standing orders not to harm them, nor to let harm come to them as a result of the Cybertronian war. They were not the enemy. Not now.

And what of Jax?

Jax made him uneasy. He was too enthralled by humanity, too inexperienced, too unpredictable. But Jax also reminded him of a part of himself he'd left behind long ago, and only started to rediscover here on Earth. That part of him that had fun, that could be excited, that was really alive. That part of him had been suppressed, because it was not conducive to survival in a war zone. But out here... well... maybe it was okay to be a bit enthusiastic about the extraordinary.

"And you said, in your reports, they actually... consume that liquid chemical substance?" Jax asked, gesturing towards where some humans appeared to be gathering water.

Bumblebee said nothing. Humans would immerse themselves in water. They drank it by the gallon. They gave it to the animals they tethered, and put it in pots with meat and plant materials which they then consumed. As far as Bumblebee was able to guess, it was either their lifeblood, or a key component of it. And not just humans, but all organic creatures on Earth. Considering the percentage of Earth that was water, it made sense. The water would either kill you or you would learn how to use it to your advantage. With so much water all over the planet, even in its driest parts, there really was no other choice.

Bumblebee wondered if perhaps energon had once flowed on Cybertron like water on Earth. Had it ever rained from the sky? Had there ever been plenty for all? He wondered.

But these were idle questions. He had neither the knowledge nor the experience to answer them, or to even compose a theory. Besides, Cybertron and Earth had little in common. Though if Jax was right, maybe Cybertron had once been like Earth. The Cybertron Bumblebee knew had been a dying world. This world, Earth, it was very much alive.

"Do you like it here?" Jax inquired suddenly.

Bumblebee didn't answer. He'd never really thought about it. True, he had noted the differences between Earth and Cybertron, and he had been both excited and frightened by how very alive Earth was, and there were many things about Earth he had learned to love (though many more he had learned only to tolerate). But did he actually like being on Earth? He wasn't sure how to answer that, mainly because he wasn't sure he knew the answer. So he said nothing. He was good at that.

"Oh come on," Jax persisted, "You're not like those others, I can tell. You're not stuffy like Axle or high-handed like Throttle, even if you try to pretend to be. You've got the spark of an explorer. You've still got feelings underneath that armor plating. You're still alive inside."

This startled Bumblebee. He didn't realize he'd been giving off any kind of vibe. He knew there was a gulf between himself and the other Autobots, but he was skeptical that Jax was correct as to what was causing that distance. Certainly he did not feel particularly close to Jax either. They didn't have much in common, and so far he'd spent most of his time wishing Jax was a little more careful. And a lot quieter.

Finally, mostly to get Jax off his back, Bumblebee shrugged.

"A shrug? That's all you've got?" Jax demanded, "Five years on an alien world, and you give me a shrug? Come on, I've read enough of your reports to know there's a lot you aren't saying."

Bumblebee just sort of looked at him, offering nothing else.

"Okay, okay," Jax backed off, "If it's all you've got, it's all you've got. But I'm telling you right now, I know there's more to you than what you let the others see. You're not just a Scout. Not anymore. Your time here on Earth has made you into something more, even if you weren't before."

Again Bumblebee could offer him nothing. Nothing but silence.

Over time, Jax seemed to grow used to Bumblebee's silence. He filled that silence with an endless chatter that Bumblebee at first found irritating, but then gradually got used to and even found a certain kind of companionable comfort in. He didn't need to say anything, because Jax said it all, every trivial insight, random theory or stupid thought that came into his head.

They were together a lot, because Jax had a way of ticking off the Warriors every chance he got. Axle sent him out to conduct his research, and Bumblebee went along as guide (and also to keep Jax out of trouble). It was easier dealing with Jax than it was dealing with a lot of bots at once. Besides, all the Warriors looked at Bumblebee as something less, or at least something... other.

Not just because he was a Scout, or because he was damaged, but because something had happened to him on Earth, something he couldn't explain or describe, but which was plain for all to see somehow. And this in addition to his experiences as a Scout, which had trained him never to get too close, never to learn the faces or the names of the soldiers he would probably have to leave behind when duty called him to run, to gather intel, or to deliver that intel from Point A to Point B without delay or regard for what might be happening between here and there. It had all combined to create a distance between himself and the Warriors which was insurmountable.

Jax was nothing at all like Bumblebee, but he was even less like the Warriors.

Not that Jax was particularly interested in making new friends most of the time anyway. His primary interests were research, scientific study (which was different for reasons Bumblebee was unable to grasp), and writing reports to send back to colleagues on Cybertron. When he wasn't doing any of that, he was generally harassing the Warriors, who could not possibly have been any less interested in the things he was studying if they'd tried and, unlike Bumblebee, were not inclined to be silent about it.

As for Bumblebee, he was sometimes sent to scout areas assigned to him by Axle, but he never really knew if they were potential cache sites, landing sites, or something else entirely. Axle didn't tell him much, probably because it didn't occur to him. Likewise, it didn't occur to Bumblebee to ask. It was a holdover from Cybertron.

The less the Scout knew about why he was doing something, the less he could tell the enemy if he was captured. He needed to know just enough to acquire the correct intel and make sure it got back to the party that needed it. There were no Decepticons here, but long military habit was hard to break, and neither Axle nor Bumblebee saw any particular reason to try.

More Autobots arrived from time to time, though most of them did not stay. They were merely transporting supplies and energon, as well as delivering news. It seemed both sides were caching energon off-world now. There was only one Prime left now, the one Bumblebee knew. A minor, low-ranking Decepticon had wrecked havoc on a base, going on a destructive rampage before finally being captured and locked into stasis. Speaking of wrecking things, the Wreckers were doing a real job on some Decepticon outpost, or so said the reports. More news, all of it distant, and Bumblebee filed it away only because it was his habit to do so.

It was amazing how irrelevant it all felt this far away from the war zone.

Cybertron

"I don't like asking it of you, old friend, but I'm afraid I see no alternative."

"Really... Optimus, Earth? You can't be serious. I'm a medic, what do I know of organic life?"

Optimus shook his head wearily. He could not argue that point. But he also saw in Axle's report that the Autobots were ill-equipped to handle Earth. Obviously, the reports of Bumblebee hadn't been enough to go on. He did not blame the Scout, he could see from the reports that Bumblebee was attempting to describe things he had no experience with. It had been folly to think it would be enough.

"These Autobots are Warriors, fighters. They know nothing of medicine. Ratchet... you and I both knew this was inevitable. You are the best -and one of the only medics- we have left. You know too much to be lost now."

"And so you're sending me to this alien world we know nothing about," Ratchet huffed.

"Here, read this," Optimus handed Ratchet a report.

"What is it?" Ratchet asked, holding it like it might be toxic.

"I sent our Earth Scout a message just before the first squad left for there. I was, and still am, concerned that those sent to Earth might have difficulty adjusting. The world is strange, and so far removed from our own and the war these soldiers are trained to fight that I fear damage to this world that is not our own may be inevitable. From our Scout's description, the Earth is fragile, which matches our initial intel scans. Cybertronians are far more powerful than anything the planet has to offer, and it would be all too easy to crush the lifeforms to which the planet belongs."

Ratchet cocked his head, but did not formulate a response. He had been in the field at the time the Scout was sent out, and had only just returned. He was wholly in the dark about Earth and absolutely everything to do with it.

"I gave the Scout instructions. Really it was more of a question. I asked him to defend Earth. If any of his fellow Autobots intentionally caused harm to any part of it, he was to stop them by any means necessary. I don't like giving orders of that nature, as you well know. But there is no telling how Autobots may react to having power where before they had little or none."

"Power corrupts," Ratchet muttered, now skimming the Scout's response to Optimus' orders.

"Indeed, old friend," Optimus said, "And our Scout is the only one who has been on Earth long enough to be hesitantly trusted. And too, there has been a shift in the nature of his reports. It was apparent from the first that he despised the world. But something has changed. His response exemplifies that."

A chill ran through Ratchet when he saw the name attached to the report. He hadn't known until precisely that moment that the Scout on Earth was the same one he had treated in the field, the same one he had failed. The Scout had lived, but Ratchet had been unable to repair him. He hadn't the skill, nor did he have the time. He'd saved the Scout's life, and then been forced to abandon him in favor of another patient. He could have done better. Should have... he shook his head. This was no time for regrets.

"When do I leave?" he asked quietly.

"As soon as possible," Optimus responded, "I fear it may not be long before the Autobots on Earth are in dire need of your medical expertise."

"Because of the weather?" Ratchet inquired, baffled.

"Because of the Decepticons," Optimus corrected, "Make no mistake, Ratchet; they are headed for Earth, even as we speak."