Author's Notes: It's been awhile but we are back continuing this madcap series. And I do not have a beta checker, only spell checker. Onward to living alongside aliens, those small fragile organic beings who inhabit planet earth while we await our return to Cybertron.

TF TRANSFORMERS

Rule 8 & Rule 75 (revisited)

Prowl vented softly, weary in his processors of defending Autobot behavior to humans. The white and black armored enforcer wondered if humans had landed on Cybertron in a role reversal as refugees, what would their behavior be? He knew many bots set protocols to slow themselves down and restrain weapons for extra safety while working around their fragile allies. They had accommodated more than their fair share, protecting the humans in Decepticon attacks by choice. In return, the humans kept secrets, kept their existence hid and gave orders instead of acting as equal treaty partners.

"And the human complaints continue to pile up," he noted in a rare moment of irritation. "Avoidable circumstances preventable with awareness. A bill for two broken cellphones, one dropped in surprise after the owner was involved in a near miss. A human soldier in the middle of the road at night and texting wearing all black colored civilian clothes. Our high-speed compensators enabled the racing twins to detect and miss him from a distance. His own emotions caused him to panic. The second phone thrown in anger, again a human lack of control. Both requests denied," he processed, pushing the door to his office open with the end of his foot pad. The data pads were settled carefully on the desktop, neatly stacked in a specific order. The mech shuttered his optics as the message from Ultra Magnus pinged in.

::I have checked the entire route with full sensor scans and can find no external source of holographic activity. Are you sure there are reports of it being 'haunted?' Ghost vehicles or similar human superstitious weirdness? Did you consider the proposition it is an urban myth? If it is holograms, I can safely rule out the twins, either set and our mischievous scouts. Continuing my search until daybreak :: Ultra Magnus, Autobot Commander.

Prowl vented softly, knowing it had to be the work of a fellow Autobot. Decepticons killed humans, not scaring them harmlessly and rarely used holograms. The power needs of the emitter alone drained on a healthy system and Decepticons preferred weapons, not tech toys. "The lack of photo proof with the number of reported sightings, even if the drivers and passengers are of questionable mental status correlate logically. Ghosts, ninja zombies and clown pirates do not exist. It has to be holographic technology and of Wheeljack's advanced design." Processors flashed up previous rules relative.

Rule 8 – Do not provoke unnecessary reactions from other drivers as this causes unsafe driving conditions and potential crashes.

Rule 75 - Do not use holograms to portray famous humans who have offlined from previous historical time periods, are stuck in any transposed state or offlined in any visibly deceased manner.

Prowl, as Second in Command quickly pulled brig records, personnel schedules and cross-referenced his own listing of known activities, official and unauthorized he pretended to not know about but tracked. "Magnus is correct," he murmured upon reviewing the data. "It cannot be the twins or scouts. Calculations specified Bumblebee, Jazz and Sideswipe but they are eliminated. For once, I am at a loss who it could be."

Far inland and north of the city, the large blue, red and white car carrier remained parked, sounds of softly chuckling emanating from the cab. "If only he knew," Magnus processed. His larger size and bright coloring disappeared among the shadows of the moonless night, discernible to Cybertronian tech like a flaming nova. Including the convertible parked across the road.

A government official had once compared the transformers to reckless teenagers sneaking off base. Instead of denial he got an audio full of why as autonomous beings should they obey human laws and curfews? The treaty specified cooperation, not slavery. Optimus may agree to hear their requests, it didn't mean he would give in to them all. Magnus personally felt they should have left orns before. Gone their own way and to slag with military requests on hiding and staying in their narrow guidelines of good and bad, evil and accepted trade partners. "Our civilization flourished for thousands of vorns across the galaxy before they even theorized their planet was round."

:: Target approaching, weaving and erratic :: Elita One, Femme Commander sent. Her pink and white coloring blended into the dark, her energy signature not nearly as strong but powerful for her size. A match to her aged mate and his powerful spark presence. The larger red and gold armored mech crouching by her alt form matched her spark strength, his armor thicker and stronger than Ultra Magnus. His closeness a protection over her in his own simple way. Attempting to sneak off base and they had encountered him, adding him for backup in a fight as a teammate assumed his guard position, a guaranteed way for them to sneak back on base.

::Your turn and keep any damage minimal. I am on official assignment, you two are not. I am not explaining to Prime if we are caught:: Magnus flashed his headlights at her, unnecessary but a reinforcement of his seriousness.

::You worry too much. Like my mech. Soundwave never caught me on Cybertron unlike how many encounters with your Wreckers? :: Elita answered, dropping her official rank off her call sign. The big mech wanted her to run silent? She could play that game, suddenly feeling mischievous.

::He caught us when we wanted him too:: Magnus challenged back.

Sounds of a human built engine, its cylinders sputtering became audible with the vehicle rounding the far curve. One headlight barely functioned, its pale-yellow light contrasting with the newer white one as it swerved back and forth. The four-door sedan had seen better care, dings and bumps down its surface. College school stickers adorned its back window and bumper, the bumper half connected with a coat hanger and silver duct tape. The rock music blaring from the CD rattled the front windows with the enhanced bass, the car back windows down and a youth leaning out, hair blowing in the wind. An empty beer can dropped out of his hand, bouncing down the road.

::Not speeding at least:: Magnus observed, the vehicle well below the posted limit.

:: Littering and impaired judgment while mobile is still dangerous, even if barely moving. Triggering EMP now:: Elita sent.

The fast blue pulse of light lit the underside of car, instantly disabling all electrical systems as it rolled over the small disc in the road. The car's engine shut off, temporarily disabled as well as all their electronics. The safest way to stop them and prohibit pictures or videos, a use of Wheeljack's technology he could not have foreseen.

The music quit, the car rolling to a stop by the edge of the road as the driver maintained a halfway presence to pull over. The four youths got out, more staggering than walking and circled the car. A fading green light began forming at the tree line as they inspected tires and even checked the gas cap, sniffing.

Five minutes later Elita stood in her bi pedal mode, bent nearly double laughing. The youths were rounded up in a green force field down the road, unable to see her or Magnus in the dark other than their bright blue optics. Local police authorities were in route as none of the youths were of drinking age and the car had been stolen during a sporting event. Or so they had hastily volunteered moments before and were still confessing.

Grimlock stood between the Commanders, his form glowing green including the rounded shape holographically over his chest and one clawed finger. "Not escape my sight," he quoted, his toothy grin as a T-Rex on full display.

"When you approached," Magnus admitted, arms crossed and trying to look stern at the Dinobot. "I figured the grim reaper or another dark character while hiding yourself in a simulated cloak. But this? Reveal as green light whatever. And did you have to eat the car? Does secretive not register?"

"Me Grimlock like playing but humans noisy. Yell like Swoop," his massive jaw bobbed up and down, the hologram fading out.

"Scream you mean. You did good pretending to ring the car and actually grabbed it up," Elita patted the side of his muzzle, the force of her hits enough to dent a lesser mech. To him, he felt it as a light tapping.

::Why do you encourage him? The purpose of holograms is to leave no trace. Half an eaten car is noticeable!:: Magnus sent over the command frequency.

:: They can find the other piece and it broke in two, not eaten. He threw it less than a mile away. A halfway reminder to not drink and drive? And Grimlock is big and cute:: Elita answered, still chuckling.

::So am I. You never treat me like that:: Magnus

::He also never said: Gee, how does that little frame support all that? You look like a mini bot wearing Megatron's gladiator armor:: Elita stated, her tone carrying a dangerous growl undertone.

::You remember that? That was...:: Magnus trailed off, trying to compute how far back he had said that to her.

::Right after I got this frame and became Elita One:: Elita

Grimlock's muzzle swung side to side as they argued. He considered telling them he could hear them, since he was the Dinobot leader and had access to command frequencies for battle plans then didn't. He learned a lot when others didn't know he was listening.

::I never implied you were that heavy or big. And your armor is solid for a protoform your size:: Magnus

::My size? Capability is more than armor layers and reinforced struts :: Elita's tone could have frosted a working smelter core as she echoed the words.

::I agree. Its spark size and inherit personality. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are great fighters but incapable of enough self-control to lead. It is taking opportunities and proving your skills against bigger when challenged. That's why you command femmes and I handle the heavy hitters like Megatron and Shockwave. True leaders step up and show what they can do:: Magnus stated, leaning down toward her.

When they returned to Diego Garcia, Swoop asked him why Ultra Magnus had a small fist shaped indent in his jaw as they snuck back in past his patrol area. And dirt and a half-grown tree wedged under his shoulder armors. "Me Grimlock not saying. Ask leader femme wearing small armor."

Rule # 239. Do not let a denied training request limit you. Skills are acquired in more ways than a training class or manual.

Optimus closed the datapad, the mech's vitals reassuring in the med bay report even as he felt concern. Any repairs or upgrades and he fretted, a right he supposed after the horrors of Tyger Pax. The walls of his working office echoed back his own sounds, the faint occasional interruption of outside noises from heavy equipment rolling by or soldiers yelling at each other. "Earth. Home," he pondered. Cybertron would always be his true home, each base or stop a location they rested and recovered before moving further away. The Cybertron he remembered had ceased to exist long before the cold of space consumed its furthest satellites. His family, both by spark and oath provided the strength he needed to continue as Prime to fight for its rebirth.

A high priority signal flashed, the sender hidden by encryption. The alert self-deleted leaving bounce relay coordinates behind. Intrigued, he typed the coordinates into his datapad. Arcee's image appeared, the young femme waving at him.

"Med bay is clear. Ratchet is recharging elsewhere," Arcee stated.

"Really? Ratchet does not abandon his patients," Optimus challenged. He had used deep cover transmission via his best spies, especially by Jazz but Arcee should not have had the tech or knowledge of it. Granted, the human worldwide web's mass of files made it easy to hijack files and transmit data over the bit streams. Accessing through his level of protected receiver as Commander of the Autobot forces to hide her sender id took a master level programmer.

"When Moonracer temporarily tanks his aft and drags her spark mate down the hall Ratchet does. Our CMO needed to recharge while his only patient recovers in recharge himself. And you did not hear that from me. You can sneak in and check on him."

"A Prime does not sneak. He enters boldly," Optimus corrected, having speed reviewed the hallway footage. After saving a few screenshot images of the dragged medic and sending them to Elita One, he deleted the footage.

"Then boldly visit me and Bumblebee please. I need the company. Arcee out."

Entering med bay Optimus relaxed as protocols slid his rifle back into subspace across his back. Ready for a trap he had come prepared. The metal spikes on his left hand retracted into the wrist holder as the small throwing dagger slid back under his right arm panel armor. Not even a Decepticon could disable med bay safeties but stabbing injuries dissipated a spark as quickly as a well-placed ion blast. His or theirs.

"My name is Arcee and you can feel my link into your Prime matrix. I will not move as you verify it and that only the three of us are in the room. Surprised you I knew the bounce relays?"

"Why would you process that?" He relaxed, tilting his helm to the side as he confirmed.

"Boldly means striding in, you paused before the doors and crossed your arms behind you to walk past the doors. Taking precautions? Hiding sharp pokey things?"

"You are observant."

"Like a scout which Ultra Magnus denied my training for. Wreckers and femme strike teams made more sense after the fall of Iacon. Here on earth we have scouts plus," she smiled, no criticism intended.

"We never have enough. And you wanted company?"

"Bumblebee and I play word games and create lists on Tuesdays. We practice earth's different languages and Cybertronian scout frequencies. He taught me the bounce relays as a last resort if trapped in the field and no other way to call for help," she explained. "Now he is getting weapon modifications to increase the power under his hood. Dual rotating cannons and more flexible joints for spin fighting. I miss the fun youngling he was."

"All things age with time," Optimus comforted.

"Not humans. Will and Epps are hiding from Ironhide over their latest youngling level prank. Hiding in my quarters while I am here monitoring," she commented.

"Ironhide was the target?"

"They dared Wheelie, who agreed. They needed his skill in hacking systems, and he is the only mech small enough to sneak through their ventilation systems to install it. And have the skill to modify the attachments to add. Traces of his energy signature remained on the parts when Ironhide pulled out of recharge however," she explained.

"He never learns," Optimus chuckled.

"Learned where to hide and might appear here in mad bay later. You are a better example. Bumblebee wants to be like you," she admitted quietly, her focus on the mech's increasing vitals on the machines.

"It takes more than desire to be a leader or a Prime. Perhaps you should start a list to remind our youngest that Prime is a title earned and comes with heavy responsibilities," he stated.

"Heavy like a Matrix under your chest plates?" She looked up at him, meeting his optics.

"Unless you have carried the burden of leadership, it is hard to explain," he stated with a solemn tone even as he felt his spark soaring. The list of candidates he could pass the Matrix to had narrowed over time even without the Matrix rejecting several. Some bot would lead after him, in war or peace and he prayed the choice would be the right bot at the right time and willing to accept it. Tapping sounds focused him as Arcee pondered, her hand tapping the berth edge via a practice she had learned around the humans. His optics narrowed as he decided, training approvals sent to the rest of the command staff. Arcee would get scout training, effective immediately and four of their own including Bumblebee would start Prime training, the curriculum hidden as lessons in database retrieval and archiving.

"Let me try explaining with a list. Anything goes when we make these, and I do not mean to offend," she offered, displaying it on a med bay monitor.

"I have no doubts on that Arcee."

It is good to be Prime when:

a. You roll down Silverbolt's cargo ramp to cheers and salutes.

b. The mechs walking behind you are carrying the spare gear.

c. Prowl and Ultra Magnus meet you on the tarmac for congratulations.

d. You never tire of showing the honor and tradition behind the Autobot symbol.

e. NEST soldiers' wave at you as you roll by.

f. Government officials gasp and look awed as you transform.

g. The twins welcome you home, sneaking you a cube of high grade over for a job well done.

h. When you get new battle gear and weaponry and another chance to change your paint design.

i. Your nickname is the "femme magnet."

j. You can introduce yourself as "I am Optimus Prime."

k. Elita One welcomes you back, tugging you towards your quarters you share with her.

l. The new liaison is excited to meet you and help the Autobot cause.

m. If you had a theme song, it would be a dramatic and powerful with a hard beat of orchestrating.

"Not bad," Optimus admitted. "How about a list that is a little more accurate to my duties? Perhaps with humor?"

It is bad to be a Prime when:

a. Silverbolt dumps you into the lagoon and you swim to shore, drop through the air or parachute into a dangerous situation that requires stealth. From a large flame colored truck.

b. The mechs walking behind you are carrying your parts for Ratchet to reattach. The ones they could find at least.

c. Red Alert, First Aid or Jazz are the first mechs you see, and they are not smiling.

d. The Decepticons ask if you want to change symbols and factions.

e. NEST soldiers flee in terror and a command officer says, "We need to talk about what happened while you were gone."

f. Government officials gasp because you transformed with his laptop, briefcase and cell phone still inside, all making crunching noises. The moon landing data needed however was in the laptop.

g. Your troops are happy and buzzed on high grade while you are the designated driver, err trailer hauler. Please do not let them purge back there again, you process while driving. Roller hates his area being messy.

h. When you are trapped in power lines and construction cablings upside down as Shockwave is flying off and you realize that adding flight tech after being a truck on the ground all your life wasn't the best idea. And here come the Wreckers to see it all.

i. Your nickname is Mister Free Leader of the Galaxy, while you are hiding and being hunted.

j. When you are battling and get tired of Sam yelling "Prime!" Or "Optimus!" Every time he needs saving. Does he not know any other Transformer name?

k. You challenged your mate with 'show me what you can do femme,' and she did.

l. The new government contact starts the conversation with "That was a galactic size mess! Good thing I am in charge now."

m. Your action theme is bold and dynamic until it mixes with a Decepticon melody.

"Top that," he challenged.

"Hold my high grade," Arcee teased back, altering a human challenge line.

It chokes major energon to be Prime:

a. When Unicron arrives as the Harbinger and Destroyer of the universe and every bot steps back and says, 'Prime, you're up. He is all yours.'

b. The mechs are carrying you towards med bay.

c. Megatron is looking at you and is suitably impressed by the mayhem you just caused.

d. You are under the control of Tessa, a Quintesson and factions are unimportant. But oh the explaining you will have to do later and apologizing.

e. The Autobots fled with the humans and you try to find anyone around to explain what happened and why buildings are missing.

f. The government official gasps and you yell for Jolt to restart him with an electric shock as he has a heart attack.

g. You realize there is not enough high grade in the universe to forget the last week. Time to recharge, find your mate and face the morning with courage and hope because that is all you have left.

h. It would be easier to transfer your spark into a new shell frame than repair the one you have, again.

i. Your nickname is now your alias as you are hiding from the assassins trying to earn the price on your head.

j, When you feel Megatron's sword go through your core, then suffer the power burst as your spark shatters and the being you are offlining to protect is still standing there. Did Sam not understand what "hide and run' meant?"

k. Elita is staring at you through the brig bars with traces of red in her optics and you are tempted to let your other officers be the ones to release her tomorrow morning.

l. When you return to online in the desert and who is the tall creepy looking silver mech yelling, "Mine!" as he stomps on your chest plates?

m. The theme music is now titled, Prime's misery, A Great Loss, History Broken, Pain Revisited and Those Deserted.

"That is more accurate than I would have anticipated," he acknowledged, feeling a mix of emotions.

::I like them all:: Bumblebee sent, his optics opening slowly.

"You're online! How long?" Arcee hugged him, careful of the cables strung under his hood and into his chest joints.

::Not long. Your tapping woke me. Bad habit to be tracked by sound:: He leaned his helm into her side, feeling her spark pulse as she lay across him and warbled happily.

Optimus leaned down, wrapping his larger armored arms around both. Arcee held still, enjoying the feeling of family she had missed as an orphan born into the war on Cybertron. Times changed, their love for each other stayed. Later she would give Bumblebee pit about his upgrades but not yet. She needed her best friend more.

One End, Two Paths (cont.) part 2

Post fall of Cybertron

BX 442, Grand design spiral galaxy, Right ascension 23h 46m 19.35s, Declination +12° 48′ 00.0″

"Did I miss an agenda change for additional personnel at our meeting? I do believe others were assigned Bumblebee sitting today," Optimus began, tilting his helm sideways even though his height allowed him to see up and over as he entered the office. His optics twinkled as he smiled, the smile mostly hid under his battle mask. The large red and blue armored mech then stood tall and regal in front of the desk. "We have serious matters to review on this temporary base and our forces. That soft clicking might distract."

Prowl looked up, sitting at attention in the chair two times larger than he would normally have required, the massive shape worked out of the asteroid itself and already in existence when he chose the room. The desk and smaller chairs he had fashioned from spare metal, making a working office as Second in Command of the Autobot forces. The focus of his ingenuity to the other was something different. Suspended between Prowl's wing doors was the mech sparkling recharging inside a soft hammock made of fine cargo mesh.

"He could be considered a guest speaker. Committee report on organizational morale and wellness and he is safer here than with his original watchers. My wings are locked and layered with triple protocols," Prowl commented, amused at how their Prime could be filled with tenderness at the mere sight of their youngest. The weariness of battling and their hard survival on the run distant and almost forgotten.

"Safer? What happened?" The instant change of tone, narrowing of the optics and Prowl winced, seeing more Megatron than Optimus in the leader's reaction. He had served under both brothers, choosing to switch when their conflict exploded into full out war across Cybertron and now the galaxy.

"He was left unattended in the recreation room," Prowl stated calmly, his memory files opening.

"The hallway needs cleaning again," the Autobot enforcer noted, adding an entry to the next punishment detail. While they all shared cleaning duties at the temporary base, maintaining certain heavily trafficked areas were listed as redemptive chores instead of brig time. Any activity near an entrance and the grey asteroid dust accompanied them everywhere. From drifting into their smallest armor cracks to shifting inside the equipment to being tracked into the furthest rooms they found it annoying and easily smeared. Mixed with any moisture and it became a paste. Any energon and the grey material hardened enough chipping it off worked best. Wheeljack theorized the age of the asteroid surviving impacts and collecting other space debris and dust made it a layered mess for them to deal with externally.

Internally, the giant asteroid station provided them a secure base for repairs and rebuilding, the Cybertronian built facility a reminder of their distant home. The metal floors overlaying stone decorated in designs and glyphs created during their world's Golden Age, the base deserted vorns before its discovery by the Autobots. "Primus knows Jazz only could have found it, recognizing an isolated beacon signal as belonging to the Matrix Templars." His processing turned to the legends, the Matrix knights and guardians who protected Cybertron's history and culture while serving as the private defense forces under the Council of Primes. A cluster had departed on a sacred quest, creating sanctuaries across the universe for their descendants never knowing safety and not knowledge would be more prized. Or that only one Prime would remain, seeking refuge while coordinating scattered followers pursuing the Allspark.

Giggling and a metal crunching sound caught his instant attention from the room alongside. A quick peek inside confirmed no other Autobots present, at least standard size. His optics narrowed in, seeing a remote controller ball with an indent mark on it. Closer to the recliner couch a twisted piece of metal bent in two with a compression mark lay on the floor. "Both cybellium materials," he noted, creeping into the room in stealth mode. Sensors confirmed the tiny shape sitting behind the stone couch even as the giggle turned to a mournful warble, the soft metal clang sound accompanying another metal object discarded. A rare smile formed on Prowl's lip plates as he felt a sudden quirk of mischievous.

"Sideswipe? Sunstreaker? Red?" He called, tapping one foot to identify his location to tiny audios. "Where are those Autobots? They are supposed to be here doing something important. But the room appears empty." A thermal ripple on his sensors imaged a hiding Bumblebee crouching down, hands over his tiny optics. "All these energon chips and no bot to share with." Faster than Prowl would have calculated, a yellow blur climbed the porous stone back and balanced precariously, waving stubby metal arms and warbling. Energon chips were his favorite to the point he would overindulge and purge them back up. Optimus threatened to brig the next bot who over treated the little mech, a hard temptation for some to resist. Ratchet's penalty was more creative and not repeatable around tiny audios.

"Where are your watchers? They better be close by and return shortly," Prowl stated.

Reaching out, Bumblebee over balanced and fell forward, warbling as large armored white hands caught him and swung him up close. Prowl held still, letting the sparkling pat across his rounded hood as he was explored by touch. Still in his first shell, Bumblebee learned from all senses and was blissfully unaware of the dangers surrounding them. "Hey! That's attached."

The disappointed crooning sounds from Bee when he was swung away into the air made it hard to stay serious or hold him at a distance. The large blue optics spun slowly as little yellow helm vents flattened down in disappointment before rising as he was cuddled again. "My battle grill reinforcements are not edible. Autobots do not bite each other."

"Unless you are Ironhide chomping on Chromia's wires," a familiar jaunty voice corrected from the doorway.

"Jazz, he is too young to understand that. Was your mission successful?"

"Yes and no. Did I find the mapping directional beacon for the next location? Yes. Did it tell me where? Not so much. Space damaged and missing half the assembly. Brought back pieces for Perceptor and Wheeljack but I ain't too hopeful. And you been holding out on me about some hidden framework buddy?" His optic visor blazing blue, the spy and saboteur pointed at the sparkling again gnawing on a piece of Prowl's front assembly.

"I calculate he is missing metal additives and attempting to secure them his own way. You did complete all recommended decontamination procedures?" Prowl asked. The Third in Command was dusty grey over his normal white and black armored parts and injured with deep rends in the armor on one leg plate.

"Cycled twice and full radiation screening. I like all my parts attached and working without cosmic rust eating them off. Did I mention the time Elita bit Optimus on his back panel for a comment while they were lying together?"

"Jazz! Inappropriate!" His hand instinctively covered the tiny bot's audios as if blocking them from listening.

"Lying together in med bay for repairs and he called her midline thick plated after a blast failed to puncture it? I ain't corrupting our youngest," Jazz teased, liking the deep venting sounds from the higher officer as Prowl felt sheepish.

Wordlessly, he handed the sparkling over, letting Jazz distract him with energon treats while he began collecting the discarded metal parts.

"Ya quizzed Ratchet on what chomper here might be needing?"

"Not yet. I am however going to have a priority discussion with Red Alert and the Twins relative to needing shortly."

"Let me guess, needing to be here and are missing?"

"Affirmative and they will be missing in the brig when I am done with them, pending a valid reason. Med bay if not," he corrected with a frosty tone. Two more bitten metal objects were secured by the far counter, one having rolled partially underneath. Half twisting, he slid his hand underneath to get it. A gust of air in his lower vents and out through his lip plates blew the asteroid dust and fuzz off it.

"Then talk to our CMO when he returns, and he can add supplements. Don't want you cracking a jaw gear on those and sets a bad example for junior here," Jazz intoned as though comforting a friend.

"I what?" He looked up, suppressing a glare as First Aid and Wheeljack stood behind the spy. He realized it probably appeared as though he had been about to take a bite as they walked in. Wheeljack's sidebars were flashing rainbow colors, indicating their civilian inventor was already speculating on the mix of minerals needed but for the wrong bot. "I was cleaning the dust from it."

"Schedule a med bay appointment tomorrow and we can talk fuel requirements. Even clean that is not enough for a mech your size to sample," First Aid instructed, pulling out a medical datapad. The medical officer under Ratchet took his duties serious but his previous attempt to work on Prowl had ended in near disaster and messing with the logic glitch did not bear processing about.

"My system is operating normally. Bee is the one testing all these." He held a piece up to demonstrate the tiny size of the indent.

"Is he blaming you baby bot? You haven't been out of my arms since I arrived back." The mech rubbed helms with the tiny bot, happy humming and chirps echoing back.

"Jazz!"

"Prowl! Never be ashamed of needing help," he kidded.

"I only require an energon bottle to be dropped off in my office later," Prowl stated then added the obvious. "Sparkling size and properly diluted."

"You sure? I have offered to make mech size bottles and drinking one might be more relaxing than chugging a cube and keep you out of trouble," Wheeljack began, his sidebars flashing soft blue and green with amusement.

"Only if they come twin size and deliverable to the brig," Jazz chuckled then paused, not seeing what they suddenly gaped at. Looking down, he saw only the little yellow mech leaning against his armor.

"Wait, is that the glyph for?" Prowl approached, as Bee finished drawing in the dust on Jazz's armor.

"Prime? Kind of."

"Squiggly wiggly lines on the lower indent and half mark instead of straight," Wheeljack added.

Baby Bee chirped, looking at the dusty tips of his fingers before patting his own shell, leaving small faint circles. Prowl vented lightly, pulling out a cleaning cloth from a leg panel and handed it over.

"Why that glyph?"

"Why not?" Jazz chimed in, running a gentle caress over the mech's helm vents before cleaning the dust off the sparkling. "Symbol is everywhere around here from the Templar Knights, on all the doors, the big mural on the command deck and even a ceiling or two. Smart bot here echoes what he sees. That makes him a scout then. My next trainee."

"Scouts are loner by personality and little mech there has us all wrapped around his servo," Wheeljack commented.

"Ambassador for alien contacts? Could use more of those, sadly."

"Cheer up Aid, we will find more of our kind and this war cannot last forever. Our return to Cybertron could happen before Bee reaches third frame."

"Primus willing," Prowl stated softly, his expression softening as the sparkling's optics began shuttering. Jazz's armor shifted slightly, allowing his system heat to seep out. Warm against the mech's front, a tiny hand reached up to wrap around his bumper edge before soft clicking signaled recharge.

"Little bug needs his recharge times," Wheeljack cooed, his larger metal form overshadowing them.

::My office now and no more problems you :: Prowl ordered on a heavily encrypted line to Jazz, nodding at the others as he passed them and out into the hallway.

::I get under your bolts? Harmless teasing Prowler:: Jazz sent, stepping out and around his own dusty prints in the hallway. Moving in full stealth mode, not a sound emanated from him least any noise wake the sparkling.

::That was embarrassing and unprofessional to a command officer and I do not like appearing less than capable :: Prowl admitted. He kept his motions controlled and smooth until his office door opened, the grey stone walls and yellow metal intermixing.

::Unprofessional like baby bot nibbling on your grill or them processing you are not taking care of yourself? Wasn't it last orn we found you stasis locked in your office on energon fumes?:: Jazz sent.

::That was a rare event:: Prowl reminded, pulling out soft material and stretching it to make a hammock shape as he sat behind the desk, his wing doors far from the massive chair back.

::Not rare enough. Care to guess how many times I have found you?:: Jazz started, blinking behind his visor as Prowl growled. A deep dangerous sound from an enforcer with the strength of Prime and near legendary control of his emotions. Jazz backed up instinctively, battle systems on lining as his arm shield flowed out of subspace. The sparkling he tucked against his chest under the blaster center of the shield, the heaviest reinforced part.

::The twins answered, they departed exploring the lower level and left Bee in Red's care. Red says he left Bee in the twin's care to review an errant signal pulse on the arrays. Does no bot understand what could go wrong in a momentary lapse of watching? This base is not secure for a sparkling unattended. Could have jammed his gears biting the wrong metal and no way to call for help or worse :: Prowl grumbled, pulling his frustration back under control. He held still while Jazz relaxed, returning the blaster shield to holding and moved closer.

::We will always be there to protect:: Jazz laid a comforting hand on Prowl before helping stretch the hammock into place on his best friend's wing doors. Still clicking in recharge, the little one never feeling his frame settled down into the flexible material.

::You need to get clean:: Prowl noted, the dust prints left across his spotless office floor.

::Come clean? I ain't telling no bot all my secrets. Oh, you meant wash racks? Got it:: Jazz sent, waving jauntily before sliding out the door, letting it close behind him.

::Hey! You left a dusty aft print on my desk!: : Prowl sent before hearing cackling laughter across the comm line.

::Sorry, didn't know you wanted my autograph under it:: Jazz

Prowl's memory file closed, focusing his processing back on Optimus and the status report. He suspected the connection the aged Prime had to the sparkling that had never been confirmed but probabilities were near a hundred percent he was the parental mech. The femme or lack of one he had discussed with Ratchet and researched without confirmation. Ancient powers and Prime relics existed but outside his scope of responsibility or full understanding, leaving that to Jazz and the others. If Prime acknowledged any relationship, Prowl would act surprised but for now it was one more secret to keep.

"While under my care, Bee has played, drank half an energon bottle and been in recharge since. And if you would assist," the enforcer turned, gesturing over his shoulder at the sleeping bot. "He needs to awaken and finish his bottle. I can update you on the current joor reports and recon notes while you hold him. Our meeting will be more efficient and less time consuming."

"For the sake of efficiency," Optimus vented softly, reaching and cradling the tiny yellow shape across the palm of his hand, releasing the hammock catches with his other hand. Cradling him against a simulated glass panel, blue armored fingers capable of crushing a Decepticon spark held a mini size energon bottle.

"Now now, little one. The base has a trouble alarm," Optimus chuckled as the sparkling's high-pitched yowl filled the room before quieting. Tiny blue optics widened at the mech's face close to his, before tiny hands reached out to grasp the bottle.

Bee sucked the blue thinned fluid steadily, his optics never leaving the deep sapphire blue optics above him, or the silver engraved glyph down the side of the armored face. Prime.

To be continued:

Author's Notes: For a great baby bee fic read "Sparkling" by karategal. For Bay movie verse, Transformers the Last Knight had baby Dinobots, and the Transformers animated movie had Wheelie, who referenced having lost parents, and Cade in movie verse complaining about raising a child and issues and Optimus saying, "Yah, I went through that too with Bee."

In the Transformers Prime cartoon (2010) Smokescreen was offered the Matrix as Optimus lay dying and refused, saving Optimus with a relic. Bumblebee then became the next Prime, Smokescreen calling him the right bot for the job.

The Cybertron Templar knights and guardians are canon, mentioned in the comics.