Author's notes: Now before you all kill me, let me explain why this chapter is a bit late. To be blunt, I was hit with the mother of all writer's blocks. Now those of you who are as into writing as me, you will know what kind I mean. The kind that cripple you to a stop and make you wanna bang your head against something hard and made of concrete. Now I have this story planned out pretty thoroughly, but whenever I try to write...it's like my mind turns to goo and no matter what I write feels forced and terrible and there is no way I'm gonna post that stuff. So there's my exlanation. If anyone has any ideas on how to break a writer's blocks, please share. Because this suck...

Phase Twelve: Saved by the Bell

Chapter Twenty-five

"Brea you might want to sit back down, it's not safe for you to be up there," Perceptor's voice drifted through the cabin, but she wasn't listening. She was kneeling on the narrow ledge lining the bottom of a window, smushing her face as close to the glass as she could in an attempt to see the city as it passed below them. Their craft flew high above the ground floor, but even from their height she could easily see the walkways interlacing through the city and buildings. Mechs and femmes walked along the pathways; talking, walking, running, laughing… behaving very normally…very humanly. It was startling and invigorating all at once. She felt absolutely giddy and was suddenly very glad she decided to come. Blow the ledge where Brea was kneeling, Craig was making himself comfortable on the corresponding chair—or in as much s he could given it was made of metal. He'd commandeered Brea's foil-coat as well as his own and was using them as a cushion and was now quietly snoozing. Beside their chair was an empty one with space enough between them for a Mech to walk. Ahead near the controls, Perceptor and Bluestreak sat, the older Mech being in control of the craft. Bluestreak twisted in his seat to watch the two humans, especially Brea, and would do so every minute or so. He saw her on the window ledge and he called for her to sit down as well.

When she made no motion that she had heard him or Perceptor, he got up from his seat and walked over to the window. He tapped her lightly in the shoulder. Brea turned around with a start, having been so engrossed in her window-watching she seemed to have blocked out all of her surroundings. Her start turned into a squeak as she lost her footing and slipped off the ledge, with Bluestreak having barely enough time to snatch her up before she hit the metal chair.

"See?" He admonished her, "We told you to get down."

"You scared me," Brea replied, confused as to why he was using such a tone. What did she do?

Instead of setting her down next to Craig, he took Brea up to the front with him, setting her on his thigh. "How far is it?" She asked, looking to Perceptor.

It was odd and slightly comedic to see a Mech seated in a large metal chair and holding onto a steering wheel as if driving a car; seeing the mundane in an extremely bizarre situation. Brea felt the need to restrain herself from giggling inappropriately.

"Not too far, three breams or so," Perceptor replied, never taking his optics off the road. Such a diligent driver he was. Brea turned her attention to the controls stretching across what she assumed would be considered the 'dashboard' of the vehicle. There knobs and buttons and dials and switches of every fashion imaginable along with the steering wheel, a couple levers, and a screen with a set of key controls below it. They blinked and glowed and flickered and Brea found herself easily distracted by them.

"What does that do?" Brea asked, pointing to a lever close to Perceptor's hand.

"It controls deceleration, for when we land." The scientist replied, still without looking away from the 'not road'. Whether he was just flying around at his discretion or there was some invisible marking or whatnot, she wasn't sure, but it seemed like he knew what he was doing.

"And that?" She pointed to another lever.

"Landing gear."

"What's that?"

"Turn signal."

"Oh." A pause. "And that?"

"I…am not sure."

Brea nodded and looked towards the little screen and keypad. "What's that screen for?"

"Autopilot controls," Perceptor replied. Brea lit up.

"Oh, neat! Lemme see," Brea said, getting to her feet and walking carefully across Bluestreak's thigh. The Mech's hands rose up on either side of her as if to steady her should she loose her balance and fall. Brea hopped off of his thigh and onto the raised median between the driver and passenger seats, striding up to get a better look at the screen and keypad. A collective of strange graphs and diagrams were splayed on the screen with the distinct letters of Cybertronian script. "How does it work?"

She wasn't sure if Perceptor was somehow becoming irritated with her questions or something else entirely, but Bluestreak hastily answered her, "Oh, you just type in the address to wherever you want to go or you can press this button," he pointed to a long button at the top of the keypad, "And say where it is you want to go and the auto-pilot will take you there."

"Really? Neat."

"Yeah it's pretty useful if you don't know where something— No, don't touch it!"

Brea was admonishingly returned to the back seat where she spent the rest of the trip next to Craig who continued on with his nap, dozing away without a care. She continued to send hopeful yet apologetic glanced back up towards the front of the craft, but neither Mech took notice of her. Her stomach churned with remorse.

Perceptor and Bluestreak had been close to near panic when she tried to touch one of the buttons on the auto-pilot's keypad, with Bluestreak snatching her up and holding her away from the controls as if her mere presence would send the whole array into meltdown and send them crashing to their deaths.

Feeling as if she were five years old again and having been unceremoniously dumped into Time Out, she sat quietly and mopped. Hopeful that the silence would dissipate any irritation she'd generated from her lack of forethought, she continued to remain that way while still glancing up hopefully.

"I said I was sorry…" She mumbled pitifully after several minutes of stifling silence, still feeling guilty.

For a second there was no answer.

"It's quite alright," Perceptor told her, though his tone revealed his lingering resentment of her actions. Their reactions were well enough to tell her she had done something very, very…very stupid. "At least you know not to do something like that again, right?"

She nodded, "Yes sir."

Glancing back at her, Bluestreak sent her a small smile, but didn't say anything. Craig woke about ten minutes later to a quiet cabin, thoroughly unaware of prior events and everything was quiet for five or so when Perceptor announced they were almost there.

"The Iacon Academy is just beyond these buildings," He said. Not wishing to incur anymore of their chaperones' annoyance, Brea stayed where she was and ignored the desire to climb back onto the narrow window ledge and peer outwards. Craig however had no such qualms and swiftly rose to his feet and walked over, being tall enough to be able to actually see outside without having to climb up on the ledge.

"That's a school!?" Craig blurted a moment later of gawking. "It's a fortress!"

Curiosity piqued, Brea motioned to rise to her feet, but looked with caution up at the backs of Bluestreak and Perceptor's chairs as if seeking permission; neither of them were paying the two humans any mind. Brea got to her feet and rushed to the window, hoping to see the 'fortress' for herself and Craig oblingingly stepped aside to allow her room to see. She was able to see the tops of towers and what looked like parapets, but not much else. What she did manage to peak at was more then enough for her to realize how big the academy must be. And then the craft turned…away from the school.

"Where are we going?" Brea asked, confused.

Bluestreak turned around towards them, "We have to land first."

Brea blinked. "Oh…right."

He chuckled. "There's a walk way from the landing pad and the garage, then there's a guard who let's you in the building."

"But we'll be taking the staff entrance in order to maintain a low profile," Perceptor replied. "Prowl had placed in a request for an escort as well."

"Oh, we're using the Tram?" Bluestreak asked, glancing at the scientist. "I've only been on it once...well I've been in it lost of times except it was just the tunnel back then, there weren't any cars or tracks. I never went to the Academy actually; I wasn't around when it was a school then and when the war ended there wasn't really a reason to go. But we used the main building as our head quarters during the war. That's why it looks like a fortress. We built it up and everything over the vorns."

It was hard to imagine the war that everyone spoke so often of and even more difficult was attempting to see them in such situations. Looking at them and speaking with them, Brea would never have guessed they were war veterans. Especially Bluestreak, she couldn't imagine him with a gun…no, wait. She could.

He did shoot Swindle did he not? Twice! And saved her in the process, but it was true she did not actually see him do it. She could imagine Prowl in battle easily enough and even the twins…but Jazz and Ratchet? Sure the medic had a mean throwing arm, but could he ever take a life like a soldier? He of anyone, she supposed, seemed the most world-worn. What about the Micromasters? If the war they fought in was so terrible, how could they seem so cheerful? Did Mechs' suffer from shell shock or PTSD like people? If so, she never saw it. In fact, looking at herself and the other humans…she felt sort of frail.

How weak humans must seem to them, she wondered. She felt slightly ashamed at the thought and then a sense of invigoration took its place. No, she wasn't going to think like that…not anymore. No. Brea rallied herself. It was like Fixit was always telling her, she had to look on the bright side and look for another way…there was no use in wallowing in doubt and self pity. And this was her way! The more she thought about it, the more she began to feel a growing encouragement, like a swelling of energy in her belly. Of all the humans on Cybertron she was likely the only one who could speak Cybertronian, she could do something no one else could. Excitement began to crawl through her, running down her arms and into her hands, causing a faint tingle at the tips of her fingers.

A hand clasped her shoulder broke away her thoughts and Brea jumped. She turned and saw Craig looking at her. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Brea nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking…" she said, adding with a giggle, "Too much maybe."

Craig nodded, humming noncommittally.

The craft rocked slightly, jolting the pair. Craig grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her down onto the seat to better center themselves, least another rock of the craft send them flying off their seat. Perceptor called back to them, "You two alright?"

"We're fine," Craig answered.

"Don't worry, just hold onto something," he advised.

"What was that?" Brea asked, holding onto Craig's arm for anchorage.

"Another craft's landing and the thrust from their engines blew us around a little, but don't worry. Perceptor's a good pilot." Brea couldn't help but notice Bluestreak's hands clamp onto his chair's armrests, though.

A minute or so later, and much rocking, the craft was safely landed. Expecting to depart from there, Brea was stymied when Bluestreak instructed her to remain seated. Then their little ship began to roll forward. Ignoring Bluestreak's instructions, Brea hoisted her upper half onto the window ledge, allowing the rest of her to dangle, in order to see outside. Perceptor drove it through what appeared to be some sort of parking garage and she and Craig seemed to have had the same thought and they exchanged glances, both trying to suppress their amusement. She couldn't help but notice all the other crafts they passed were larger and looked much more…fancy then their humble little transport.

When their craft was finally parked, Perceptor told them to put on their foil-coats. With a groan, Brea reached for hers, which had been thoroughly squashed with it having been recently used as an impromptu cushion. Thankfully, Craig was a mature adult and not Sean or Rodney, and therefore she wasn't subjected to unnecessary teasing. Her tune, however, changed when the door was opened and a wave of cold air swept in. Her face and legs stung with chill and she wrapped her arms around herself, willing heat to go to her legs. Perceptor scooped them both up while Bluestreak fetched their supplies. Curling into a ball, Brea pulled the bottom of her coat over her legs.

Noticing this, Perceptor smiled down at her. "I suppose you aren't so resentful of those thermal insulators anymore?"

Brea shook her head and huddled closer to the Mech's body.

Thankfully the inside of the Tram wasn't as cold as it was outside. It was still cooler then she would have liked, but Brea didn't feel the need to huddle in a ball any longer, although she kept the foil-coat on and appreciated the extra warmth. The Tram was essentially a short subway, short in the semse that it did not go very far. Used by staff and guests, it ran from the parking garage to the school, and from there they were to meet their escort. Then they were to be taken to the room where they would be housed throughout the duration of their visit. Brea was beginning to feel excited, but not without her usual apprehensions. She knew not the number of young Mechs (and femmes?) they would be meeting when the ball got rolling and the thought of being surrounded by so many staring faces made her a little dizzy.

Upon entering one of the Tram's empty cars, Perceptor gently placed both humans onto a seat before taking up the one beside it with Bluestreak occupying the one on the other side, effectively sandwiching the two humans between them. There was not anyone else inside the same car as them, although the one ahead of them seemed to be quite full. While they were waiting for the Tram to arrive, Perceptor and Bluestreak had stood to the side and away from the other Mechs who gathered at the loading station, as if to shield them from sight, but Brea could still see the hovering crowd. She had glanced round the throng ahead of them, studying the beings that, despite being surrounded by them for so long, still seemed utterly alien when she stared long enough. And long enough she must have for after a moment of staring at a brown and silver Mech closest to them, he randomly looked their way and locked sights with her. She felt her heart freeze in her chest, but eased a little when the Mech smiled warmly at her. His gaze flickered up to Perceptor and Bluestreak, who had noticed the Mech too, and gave them a courteous nod which they returned. The Tram arrived not a minute later and the crowd filed into the first two cars, leaving the third void and empty. So their party opted for the third.

"Who's our escort?" Bluestreak asked as he leaned back into his chair. The Trams doors closed with a hiss and the car began to move along its tracks. Perceptor glanced idly out the window directly behind him, the docking station disappearing as the Tram entered the tunnel, before answering.

"His name is Brainstorm," Perceptor replied. "I believe he was part of Chromedome's squad during the war. I've only met him a few times. Brilliant mind. Very nice."

The car was enveloped in darkness for a moment before the lights kicked on, a line of them dotting the ceiling all the way down the length of the car. Bluestreak nodded, not seeming to notice the light change. "When's the first seminar?"

"In half a joor. We'll have enough time to set everything up before then. I sent the thermal and atmospheric specs to the maintenance department ahead of us so they should be comfortable."

"How long are we staying here again?" Brea asked. She already knew, but felt the need to fill the dim and empty space with idly conversation so she played forgetful. The muted light gave the car an ominous atmosphere that was beginning to ebb her earlier anticipation.

"Half an orn, not too long," Perceptor replied in a tone that sounded as if to reassure her.

"So about…" She counted on her fingers. "Six days?"

"Six and a half," Perceptor replied idly. He glanced down at her and a faint smile turned his lips. "Nervous?"

"A little," she said meekly. Reaching out for her hand, Craig sent her a smile and gently squeezed. "You'll do fine," he said. "Just remember what Ratchet said."

Brea nodded, the enthralling invigoration churning in her stomach and morphing into anxiety. "Right…what did he say again?"

Craig laughed lightly, shaking his head and giving her hand another gentle squeeze. "We don't have to answer any questions we don't feel comfortable enough to answer and if we get scared or want to leave for any reason, we just got to let one of these guys know."

She nodded. Right, she remembered him saying something like that. "And no talking about the trial…no names."

Craig nodded. "Right. S'you're gonna be OK?"

She nodded, despite her heart leaping into her throat as the Tram began to slow and light from the loading station filtering into their car. The Tram dawdled down to a crawl, easing into a smooth stop and the doors opened.

Author's notes part 2: Now while I bang my head against this wall trying to dislodge whatever's stuck, how about a review, huh?