Sam stared at the scout in disbelief.
"It passed?" He asked incredulously, "Formally?"
"Formally." Bee confirmed, obviously delighted by Sam's reaction.
Sam was blindsided by the tidal wave of emotions that rocked into him—shock, relief, joy. He dropped his head into hands in an effort to get himself under control. Ever since he had learned that he had been denaturalized, Sam had struggled with his sense of identity. No longer a citizen of any nation on Earth, but still human. A ward of Cybertron, but entirely other—nothing like the Transformers who claimed him, despite the Allspark energy radiating from his cells. Now at least, he had a tangible connection to the planet that he called home, which was both legislatively binding and globally recognized.
After a moment, Bee chirped at him concernedly.
"I just need a minute, Bee." He assured the scout, his voice unsteady. He took a deep breath, and then another, before he was capable of speaking. He looked up at the two holoforms, clasping his hands together.
"I wasn't sure it would pass. I'm so relieved." He admitted.
Bumblebee smiled at him understandingly, but Ratchet spoke before the scout could reply.
"It will be a lot of work and unnecessary bureaucracy, in my opinion, but I can understand the appeal it holds for you."
Sam glanced at the medic, taken aback by his dismissive tone before understanding dawned on him. "That's right, you were a senator before the war. I guess you'd know a thing or two about bureaucracy."
Ratchet snorted, "Don't remind me. The grandstanding and corruption of American politics pales in comparison to the Cybertronian Senate during the height of the Golden Age."
"I can only imagine."
Ratchet crossed his arms, his features pulling down in a seriously put-upon expression.
"You will find out for yourself shortly. Prime has requested that his senior staff report to the command center immediately. Against my better judgment, his request includes you." Ratchet gave him a long, appraising look before he continued, "Bumblebee will walk with you; turn around at once if your dizziness returns."
With that, the holoform fizzled and vanished. Sam glanced at his guardian quizzically.
"I'm senior staff now?"
Bee smiled at him and shrugged, "You are our Ambassador and Prime's ward."
Sam grimaced at the scout, who winced apologetically and said, "We should go, they will be waiting on us."
"Give me a minute to get dressed." Sam said, pushing himself to his feet. He walked briskly to his closet and pulled out the first pair of slacks and shirt he saw. Less than five minutes later, he was dressed and striding towards the North Quad door, pulling his lanyard around his neck as he walked. Bumblebee kept pace beside him, glancing sidelong at him in obvious concern.
"I'm fine, Bee." He huffed, "Never better."
"You don't look it." The scout replied uncertainly.
"Bee, are you saying I look like shit?" He asked, with a quirk of his lips.
The scout snorted in a decidedly Ratchet-like fashion, and Sam grinned at him in earnest. It was less than ten minutes later when Sam stepped through the North Quad door as Bee's holoform vanished from beside him. He smiled at the sight of the sleek Camaro waiting in the bridge. The driver's side door popped open as he approached, and Sam ran a palm over the yellow exterior.
"Hey Bee." He murmured affectionately, as though he hadn't spent all morning with the scout. Bumblebee pulled the driver's door against him, ushering him into the cab. Sam complied, climbing into the driver's seat without complaint. As soon as he was seated, the door closed shut behind him and the scout accelerated towards the West Quad. Bee's radio flickered to life, and the sound of good-natured comm chatter spilled into the cab.
/Bumblebee and Sam, en route./ The scout reported, dutifully.
/Sam-my-man, glad you're back!/ Hot Rod's cheery voice replied. Sam smiled affectionately at the dashboard.
"You too, Roddy."
/He's not back yet./ Ratchet cut-in peevishly, /So don't go making any plans./
/Me? Perish the thought./
/Hot Rod./ Ratchet said, warningly.
/Cross my spark./
/Hot Rod!/
/Primus, Ratchet, calm down. You'll give yourself a spark-attack./
There was an unflattering burst of angry-sounding Cybertronian in response, but Sam could barely hear it over the sound of his own laughter. He was still grinning when Bumblebee rolled to a stop by the stairs of the metal scaffolding in the command room a short while later. Sam climbed out of the cab and started up the steps as Bumblebee transformed. Hot Rod jogged over by the time he had made it to the top of the stairs.
"Hey Roddy." Sam smiled at the scout earnestly, and Roddy whistled in return.
"Hello Sam." The scout said, leaning close, "Forgive me for saying so, but you look… mottled."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Thanks buddy, I appreciate it."
"Do not be concerned by your appearance. It is no more or less strange than usual." Sunstreaker said dismissively, from his spot beside Sideswipe at the table. Something about his tone raised Sam's hackles, and he narrowed his eyes at the mechanoid. Sam had spent little time around the yellow warrior, but that time had been sufficient to underscore the fact that (somehow) Sideswipe was the congenial twin. Sunstreaker was vain and abrasive on a good day, and a self-righteous prick on a bad one.
"You're telling me not to be concerned about my appearance?" Sam snorted, "Pretty bold, coming from a Maserati."
Sunstreaker stiffened in affront, but Roddy laughed delightedly before the warrior could respond.
"Props Sam." Hot Rod said approvingly. Sideswipe murmured something to his twin in Cybertronian, and the yellow Autobot turned around without another word. Sam's attention was pulled away then by the arrival of Dave and Will. He turned and smiled at the two men as they stepped onto the platform.
"Sam, how are you feeling?" Dave asked concernedly as he approached.
"You look like shit." Will said in his usual succinct manner. Sam rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
"Thanks Will, very helpful."
"Are you sure you're up for this?" Dave continued uncertainly.
"I look worse than I feel."
Before Dave could say anything else, Optimus stepped up to the Autobot-sized conference table in the center of the space, Prowl at his right-hand side. The room fell silent by fits and starts, and the three of them stepped up to the railing as they waited for him to speak.
"By now you will all have heard that the vote by the General Assembly was passed in our favor." The Autobot leader began, stately and dignified, "With the passing of the vote, Diego Garcia has officially been recognized by the governments of this world as a Member State of the United Nations—and we as citizens of this planet."
Sam felt a shiver run down his spine at the Prime's auspicious tone.
"This is an opportunity for our people to find on Earth something of the home we lost on Cybertron. To find kinship and belonging, here among our human allies, and to begin the process of recovery and recuperation." He paused, his piercing blue optics moving around the room, "So too is this a grave responsibility. It is our duty to ensure that the war that tore apart our planet does not infect this one, any more than it already has. Megatron will view the passing of this motion as an insult to his perceived superiority. I fully expect that he will retaliate against the humans—and against us—in response. With his command trine here on Earth, he has the capacity to cause terrible destruction. We must be vigilant."
"In the coming weeks and months, we will work to strengthen the ties with our human allies." Prowl continued, "We have already begun negotiations with the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, and China. As part of these negotiations, we are drafting cooperative agreements and political and commercial treaties. Prime has also ratified the United Nations Charter, the Geneva Convention, the Vienna Convention, and the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change."
"Have you signed an extradition treaty with the United States?" Will asked abruptly, interrupting the strategist. Sam glanced at him, surprised to see the tightness in his jaw.
"No, Will, nor do I intend to." Optimus replied solemnly.
Will worked his jaw for a moment before nodding silently at the Autobot leader. Sam looked at him confusedly, but the older man stared straight ahead, avoiding his questioning gaze.
"Over the next several months, I will be receiving Ambassadors from various Member States of the United Nations. I have given orders for Administrative Building 22 to be converted into an embassy for their use and convenience. The United States Ambassador will be first to arrive, later next week. Her Excellency will be afforded every courtesy during her stay."
Sam frowned, shifting uneasily, "Is that safe?"
Brilliant blue optics met apprehensive brown eyes.
"The Ambassadors and their governments have been informed of the potential for a Decepticon attack. Every precaution will be taken to ensure the safety of the visiting dignitaries." Optimus glanced at his second-in-command, and Prowl stepped forward as he began to outline the security measures being implemented on the island. First, he described changes to shift rotations, patrol movements, and sentry details, and then Wheeljack was speaking, describing his efforts at developing an improved Energon-detection grid. The engineer was creating a complicated buoy system to place around the island that would give them an additional warning about an incoming attack. Unless (the engineer clarified, worrying his servos together) they used trans-dimensional warp capabilities to teleport to the island, as they had three days ago.
Sam blinked slowly, leaning against the railing as Wheeljack talked, on and on about engineering specifications and equipment modifications. He felt the first stirrings of a headache, and he winced his eyes closed as he raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes an interminable time later, he jerked in surprise to see that Wheeljack was nowhere in sight. Ironhide was standing in the engineer's place, a three-dimensional holographic projection of the island floating above the table. The weapon's specialist was speaking gruffly, something about perimeter defense.
Sam's heart lodged itself in his throat as he realized that he had lost time again. Simultaneously, Ratchet and Bumblebee looked in his direction. His guardian's optics were bright with sudden concern, whereas Ratchet's optics were narrowed in consideration. Sam stepped close to Bumblebee, pitching his voice low.
"How long ago was Wheeljack talking about the buoys?" He asked, his voice tight with anxiety. The scout's optics brightened in sudden understanding.
"Not long, perhaps five minutes." His guardian assured him, and something inside Sam slowly unclenched. Only five minutes, that wasn't so bad. He exhaled softly, wrapping his hands around the metal railing of the scaffold.
"What's he talking about?" Sam asked after a moment, motioning to Ironhide with his chin.
"He is outlining the improvements that he and Kup have made to perimeter defense by the munitions depot." Bumblebee informed him, quiet and concise, "You haven't missed anything of significance."
Sam made a noncommittal sound in acknowledgement, turning his attention back to the weapon's specialist. When Ironhide finished speaking, the holographic projection disappeared and the house lights came up. Evidentially, the briefing was over. He glanced over at Dave and Will, who had similar thoughtful expressions on their faces.
"Have you been working on this, Dave?" Sam asked the personal aid in genuine curiosity, gesturing vaguely towards the conference table. The agent crooked a smile at him.
"Yeah, for months now. We started the paperwork for the petition to the Secretary-General before you arrived at Diego Garcia."
Sam shook his head wryly, "Well, congratulations. Seems like your work paid off."
Dave laughed lightly, "I had almost nothing to do with it. Optimus has a team of policy analysts who wrote up the majority of the petition. I just made sure the T's got crossed and the I's got dotted."
"You are being modest, Dave. I could not have done it without you." Optimus chided as he and Ratchet approached. The agent inclined his head, graciously accepting the praise. Optimus looked from Dave to Sam, his optics searching.
"How are you feeling, Sam?"
He felt a flash of irritation at the now too familiar, unwelcome question.
"I'm fine, Optimus." He assured the Autobot leader, his voice sharper than he intended.
"How much time did you lose?" Ratchet asked, pointed and knowing. Sam didn't flinch, but it was a near thing.
"Five minutes." He replied casually.
Optimus looked at him for a long moment, as though trying to come to a decision. Ratchet glanced at his leader meaningfully, and Prime inclined his head slightly in response. Sam realized abruptly that they were communicating over a private comm line.
"Ratchet has informed me that you are recuperating well. I am pleased to hear it."
Sam tilted his head at the Autobot leader. He could hear the caveat hanging at the end of that sentence as loudly as a foghorn. He looked at Optimus expectantly.
"And? Or But?"
Something warmed in Optimus' optics.
"But you're on medical stand-down for the next three weeks, and therefore will not be participating in the visit of the American delegation."
Optimus' tone was reassuring, rather than proclamative, but Sam found himself conflicted by unexpected emotions. On one hand, he had no interest in playing Ambassador for an alien species. He was woefully underqualified, for one, and lacked any sort of social grace for another. Yet Sam found that Optimus' words rankled him, and he felt a flash of contrarianism.
"Yeah, that makes sense. Standing and talking are obviously beyond my abilities right now."
Optimus looked taken aback by his sarcasm. "I was not aware that you had changed your mind about your role as our Ambassador."
Sam huffed, feeling as though he were painting himself into a corner.
"I haven't, not really, but it's not like I'm physically incapable of attending." He frowned, trying to put his objection into words, "If I don't meet with them, it will be because that was my choice, not because of Ratchet's say-so."
If the look on the medic's face was anything to go by, he very much disagreed with Sam's assessment of the situation. Optimus directed a pointed and quelling look at his Chief Medical Officer, and then glanced back to Sam.
"Do you want to meet them?" Optimus asked considerately, and the directness of the question caught him off-guard. Sam surprised himself by answering candidly.
"Do I want to meet them? No. Do I feel obligated to meet them? Yeah, obviously."
Optimus tilted his head questioningly, and Sam sighed.
"Come on, Optimus, the psychology isn't that complicated. The last time you asked me, I turned you down and it got you killed. I owe you."
Optimus' optics widened slightly in surprise, before his expression grew troubled. Dave and Will exchanged a significant glance and surreptitiously withdrew, leaving Sam alone with the three Autobots.
"You owe me nothing, Sam." Optimus rumbled reassuringly, "Least of all, this."
"Yeah, I remember, thrice-indebted." Sam said, frustrated by his inability to articulate himself clearly, "But you saved me too, alright? The weight of that obligation swings both ways."
Optimus' helm jerked back slightly, and the Autobot leader looked at Sam as though seeing him for the first time. The weight of his regard made Sam flush with emotion, but he did not look away. After a long, charged moment, the Autobot leader inclined his helm.
"I will respect your choice in this matter, Sam. Unless your physical wellbeing prevents it, you may participate in the delegation's visit at your discretion—as much or as little as you desire."
Sam glanced at Ratchet, expecting a blistering protest from the medic. Instead, he found that Ratchet was looking at Optimus with a gravity of expression that he could not decipher. In the absence of an objection, Sam shrugged in acknowledgement. Optimus nodded at him and then turned on his pede and walked towards Prowl and Ultra Magnus. Ratchet lingered a moment longer, before he followed his leader.
Sam watched them go, breathing a gusty sigh that he had not realized that he had been holding. He glanced at his guardian, who was staring back at him with bright optics.
"What did I just do?" He asked, mildly.
Bee chirped at him affectionately, "You followed your conscience."
Sam sighed, pushing his hands into his pockets, "Yeah well, my conscience better know what it's doing."
The following week passed by in fits and starts.
The mood on the base was jovial, following Optimus' senior staff meeting. Dave and Will cornered Sam before he left the command center, and asked him whether he wanted to grab lunch to celebrate. Seeing no reason why not, Sam agreed. Together they drove to the Hall, Sam with Bumblebee and Dave and Will with Ironhide. They weren't three feet inside of the building before Sam's phone buzzed with an incoming text message.
Ratchet: No alcohol.
SamWitwicky: it's 1 in the afternoon.
Ratchet: It's five o'clock somewhere. No alcohol.
Sam rolled his eyes at the phone as they crossed the airy dining room. They found a table next to a large window, which overlooked the road and part of the parking lot. As they sat down, Sam caught sight of Bumblebee and Ironhide, who had parked not far away.
"Hey guys, sorry I'm late."
Sam glanced up in surprise to see Williams crossing the room towards them. There was an open and friendly expression on the soldier's face, and Sam awkwardly moved over to make room for him to sit.
"No problem, we haven't ordered yet." Lennox said, leaning back in his chair.
"Hey Sam." Williams smiled at him as he sat down, "How've you been?"
Sam blinked at the man in surprise. He knew that Williams had transferred to NEST in September, but he hadn't seen him since the Theodore Roosevelt.
"I'm good." He said, taken aback by his casual manner, "How've you been?"
Williams shrugged, "Good, though I was in the western quadrant when Starscream blew the fuel tanker. That was quite the education."
Sam laughed, shaking his head.
"Yeah, tell me about it."
They talked over wings and waffle fries for over an hour before Dave announced that he had to be getting back. Lennox sighed, tossing his napkin on the table, and echoed the sentiment. The four of them stood together and made their way to the front of the Hall where they waited as the host swiped their badges, and then they stepped into the hot mid-afternoon sun. Sam was halfway back to the Hive before he realized that Robin hadn't asked him about his injuries. The knowledge made him smile in appreciation.
Sam slept a lot over the following days. He was often asleep by seven or eight in the evening, and slept through until morning—something he hadn't experienced since before he had left for Princeton. He also found himself nodding off in the afternoons, whether on his couch, in Bee's cab, or once, during a senior staff meeting. He woke up to the feeling of Will's elbow jabbing into his ribs, yelping in surprise. To his intense mortification, the sound had drawn Optimus' (and the room's) attention. Blushing crimson to the roots of his hair, Sam stammered an apology and then spent the remainder of the briefing slouched low in his chair, wishing the floor would swallow him alive.
Three days before the American delegation was due to arrive, Sam asked Dave to speak with him privately. The agent had agreed, and so Sam found himself sitting across from Dave in the agent's office in South Quad, trying not to fidget.
"Can you give me a crash course on not making an asshole of myself?"
Dave blinked at him in surprise, before leaning back in his chair.
"Come again?"
Sam huffed in embarrassed frustration, "The American delegation is arriving on Thursday, and I think I'm going to meet them. I have no idea what to say or do."
Something softened on the agent's face, and Dave leaned forward.
"Prime isn't expecting anything from you, Sam. Just be yourself."
"Yeah, well, myself is an awkward nineteen-year-old who tends to put a foot in it. I don't want to humiliate myself. Or Optimus." Sam admitted.
Dave looked at him considerately.
"There's really not much to it, Sam. The current United States Ambassador is Kelly Craft. You should refer to her as Her Excellency or Madam Ambassador. She's a Republican with a longstanding history with international diplomacy. She served as Ambassador to Canada for years before she was appointed as the United Nations representative. Her job is to represent the interests of her country, including sowing the seeds for peaceful cooperation between the United States and Diego Garcia. Fifty percent of diplomacy is smiling and nodding, the other fifty percent is statecraft. No one expects you to be an expert in the finer points of statesmanship, Sam, so just be friendly and polite."
"What's she like? Personally?"
Dave shrugged, "She's Republican, so there's that. As you know, her party has been conflicted on human-Autobot relations over the last two years, although she herself has not spoken against us. Personally? She seems intelligent and capable."
Sam sat back, shifting in his chair.
"So that's it? Be polite?"
Dave shrugged, "Diplomacy is nuanced and layered, Sam. It's not something that can be explained, you have to learn it as you go. Just remember that you're not alone in this. Ambassador Craft has her team, and you'll have yours."
Sam groaned, shaking his head minutely.
"I can't believe I'm doing this."
Sam echoed those same words three days later, on the morning of the arrival of the American delegation. Freshly showered and shaved, he stood in front of his closet staring disapprovingly at his clothing. His first inclination was to wear something business casual, but he dismissed that notion out of hand. He knew that Optimus was rolling out the red carpet, and he didn't want to rock up to the reception in khakis and a button-down shirt.
What would Dave Carter do?
He knew the answer immediately. Sighing in resignation, Sam pulled the garment bag out from the back of the closet and laid it on the bed. Unzipping it, Sam saw it contained a dark blue suit, with clean lines and sharp seams. The garment bag also contained a white button-down shirt and a steel blue tie. Sam got dressed slowly, feeling ridiculous and uncomfortable as he did so. He couldn't remember the last time he wore a suit—no, that wasn't true. It was his cousin Samantha's wedding last summer.
After he was dressed, Sam glanced at himself in the wardrobe mirror, unsurprised to find that the suit fit him perfectly. He stared at the tie in his hands, trying desperately to remember what his father had taught him. After a few abortive attempts, he managed a shitty-looking simple knot. Sam was in the process of tying his ridiculously expensive-looking leather shoes when his door chimed. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was already ten in the morning.
He jogged towards the door, pulling it open with more force than necessary. Dave Carter stood in the hallway beyond, wearing a sharp-looking black suit that was grades above his usual business attire. Dave's eyebrows rose to his hairline when he saw him, and Sam found himself reddening in embarrassment.
"Can I come in?" The personal assistant asked, and Sam stepped aside without a word.
Dave walked into his living space, and smiled at him approvingly.
"I'm glad the suit fits." He said, and then his mouth did something complicated.
"What?" Sam asked, warily.
Dave hesitated.
"Want me to re-tie that for you?" He asked, gesturing towards his necktie. Sam's eyes winced shut, and he nodded. The personal aid stepped forward, smart fingers untying the silk material and pulling it off him. Dave popped the collar of his shirt, and then draped the tie around his neck. His hands looped and tugged, and then he smoothed the tie and pulled down his collar.
"There you go." He said approvingly, and Sam murmured his thanks. Dave looked him over once and nodded, satisfied, before he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to him. Sam glanced down curiously at the small cube-shaped jewelry box. He popped it open to see a lapel pin in the shape of the Autobot insignia staring back at him. He recognized the pin immediately, as it was the same one that Dave wore affixed to his suit at all times.
He glanced up at the agent, who crooked a smile at him with a shrug.
"May as well make it official."
Sam stared at the insignia for a long moment, before he tugged it from the jewelry box and pinned it to his lapel. He tried to ignore his racing heart as he glanced at the agent.
"Alright, we going?"
Dave nodded, "They're due to arrive in thirty-five minutes. Weather out of New Delhi was rough, and they were delayed."
Sam sighed internally, steeling himself up.
"Let's go."
Dave and Sam walked together towards the North Quad door, the agent talking the entire time.
"Ambassador Craft has a team with her, including personal assistants, a security detail, and the White House press." Dave glanced at him sidelong, "There will be a photographer."
Sam's head snapped around so quickly that he almost gave himself whiplash.
"A photographer?" He repeated, aghast.
Dave shrugged, "It's politics Sam, there's always a photographer. Pretend like he's not there."
Sam struggled with the impulse to turn around and walk straight back to his apartment. He might have done so, had they not stepped onto the bridge to the sight of Bumblebee waiting in his alt mode. The Camaro flashed his high beams at him and popped open both of his doors. Sam grimaced and climbed into the cab. As soon as he and Dave were seated, the doors closed shut behind them and Bumblebee's radio flared to life.
/Bumblebee reporting in with Sam and Dave. We are on our way to the runway./
/Ironhide and Lennox, reporting in at the airfield./
Lennox's voice cut across the comm channel a second later.
/Optimus, the Lancers are prepped. Do you want a full deployment?/
/Stand by, Will./ Prowl answered immediately, /We need to clear the runway of local fauna./
/Curse these pit-spawned fragging crustaceans!/ Kup barked angrily.
It was less than ten minutes later when Bumblebee rolled to a stop at the end of the runway. The reception was markedly different from the one that Optimus had assembled to receive the Trion and the Ark. Rather than a full military deployment, only Optimus, Prowl, and Ultra Magnus stood waiting at the tarmac. Beside them, Sam could see a cluster of humans, including Will Lennox, and a number of sleek-looking black SUVS. In the distance were two rows of soldiers, perhaps twenty in total, standing at attention in full uniform. Sam glanced at the dashboard in confusion.
"Where is everyone, Bee?"
The scout chirped at him reassuringly before speaking, "Full military reception is often associated with dictatorships on your planet, an image Optimus does not want to present. The delegation will meet with a number of us over the next two days, in staggered intervals."
Sam nodded slowly, glancing in Bee's rearview mirror. The bruises on his face had almost completely faded over the last week, much to Ratchet's consternation—there was no longer any doubt that he was healing faster than normal. Sam hadn't admitted to anyone, not even Bumblebee, how much the knowledge unsettled him.
Sam and Dave climbed out of the cab, and Bumblebee rolled back several feet and transformed. Sam tugged his suit jacket down, smoothing it back into place, and followed Dave as he approached the assembled group. He was immediately glad that he had erred on the side of caution and wore the suit, because all of the humans present were smartly dressed, either full service uniforms or formal business attire. Optimus turned as they approached, his optics lingering on Sam for a long moment. The quiet approval on the Autobot leader's face made him flush in embarrassment.
"Hey Sam, welcome to the party." Lennox greeted, stepping towards them.
"Hey Will." He greeted, glancing around the airfield, "How long until they land?"
"The plane is making its final approach now. They'll be on the ground in ten minutes." Prowl answered.
"Any sign of the Decepticons?"
"Nothing so far, but we are on high alert." The strategist replied.
As promised, it was only a few moments later before Sam could make out the sleek white aircraft as it made its approach. The C-37A jet touched down smoothly, and taxied towards them before coming to a complete stop on the tarmac. Sam felt his heart start to pound inside his chest, and he took a calming breath. He had faced down Megatron, twice. He could handle a middle-aged dignitary.
Probably.
It was the space of several minutes before the door to the jet was opened and lowered to the tarmac, and then the delegation was making its way down the steps towards them. First came two serious-looking men in dark suits with coiled earpieces. They were followed by the Ambassador, which Sam recognized from the dossier Dave had provided him. She was an attractive older woman, with short-cut blonde hair and a razor-sharp skirt suit. She was followed by a younger woman carrying an attache case and an armful of folders. Three others trailed behind them, one carrying a large equipment bag and a camera.
Sam carefully schooled his features into a polite, neutral expression.
Optimus stepped forward to greet her, inclining his head gravely before lowering to one knee. The position would have seemed submissive by anyone else, but Prime maintained an air of stately dignity.
"Your Excellency, welcome to Diego Garcia. I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots."
Craft inclined her head in return, a professional smile warming her face.
"Thank-you for receiving us, Optimus Prime. It is my honor to be here."
"The honor is ours." He intoned solemnly, and Sam realized distantly that Optimus Prime was one suave motherfucker. He snapped back to attention as Optimus gestured with a large servo towards him.
"It is my pleasure to introduce our Ambassador, Sam Witwicky."
As if on autopilot, Sam stepped forward and took the Ambassador's proffered hand, shaking it firmly.
"Your Excellency, I am pleased to finally meet you." He replied, distantly aware of the snap of a camera.
She smiled at him brightly, "Please, your Excellency, call me Ambassador Craft."
Something possessed him to reply in the same friendly tone, "Then you must call me Ambassador Witwicky."
She inclined her head in warm acquiescence, and then Optimus was motioning to Lennox.
"This is Major William Lennox, head of the human contingent of NEST."
Will snapped off a crisp salute, and then stepped forward to shake Craft's hand.
"Your Excellency, welcome to Diego Garcia."
She inclined her head graciously, and Optimus stood, gesturing next to Prowl.
"This is Prowl, my second-in-command and Chief Strategist."
The Autobot crossed his arm across his chassis and bowed deeply from the waist. Optimus gestured then to Ultra Magnus.
"This is Ultra Magnus, my Chief Lieutenant and City Commander. He will be responsible for your safety during your stay."
Ultra Magnus bowed at the waist as Prowl had, and the Ambassador smiled collegially.
"Thank-you all for this warm reception. I look forward to developing a relationship of mutual trust and prosperity between our peoples."
Optimus inclined his helm once again, "As do I."
After the reception, Sam accompanied the Ambassador as she toured Diego Garcia. The tour was kept close to the base, mainly the downtown area and Simpson Point. The Ambassador was flawless in her diplomacy, hitting all of the social graces with no apparent effort. Sam was friendly and polite, but kept quiet unless the Ambassador asked him a direct question. Dave did the majority of the speaking, repeating the same speech that he had given Sam when he had first arrived at Diego Garcia. Unlike Sam's tour, however, Dave led them through several of the buildings he showed them—most notably the now re-purposed Embassy. Afterwards, they had lunch at the Officer's Club, an upscale dining facility located by the water.
Sam noted with curiosity that Dave did not take the Ambassador to see the Hive.
Over the following two days, Sam participated in a smattering of meetings, discussions, and meals with the Ambassador and her delegation, including introductions with some of the other Autobots. As Dave had predicted, diplomacy was a lot of smiling and nodding. The one awkward moment of the visit occurred when the Ambassador asked him about Tranquility over lunch, and Sam had frozen in surprise. She recognized her slip-up immediately, and gracefully changed the subject before he could stammer a response. It was no time at all before the delegation had wrapped up and the Ambassador's jet was taxing back down the runway.
Sam breathed out a sigh of relief when the jet disappeared into the distance. Bumblebee crouched beside him, running a digit down the length of his spine. He looked at the scout with a half-smile.
"That was exhausting." He admitted.
"You did well." Bumblebee praised.
Sam laughed self-deprecatingly, "Dave did all the work. I just tagged along."
"I think you know that's not true." Optimus rumbled from beside him, and Sam glanced up at the Autobot leader in surprise, "You did well, Sam. You should be pleased."
Sam felt himself flush at the quiet praise in the Autobot's voice.
"Thanks Optimus. It wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be."
Optimus' mouth plates curved up in an amused smile, "I am glad to hear it."
Bumblebee stepped back and transformed into his alt mode, rolling forward to press his bumper against his legs. Unbalanced, Sam sat back against the car with a laugh, patting the hood affectionately. Bumblebee's engine rumbled loudly in response. Optimus watched the two of them with an intensity of expression that Sam couldn't place. He smiled up at the Autobot questioningly, but Optimus merely inclined his head in valediction and transformed into his alt mode. Sam watched in bewilderment as the Autobot leader accelerated away, driving back towards the base in silence.