(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The rest of March passed by uneventfully. Shortly after Sam was cleared for return to normal activities, he registered for his spring classes. Although he had less than three weeks until the beginning of the semester, he was determined to make up for lost time. He spent his afternoons in front of his computer, reading syllabi and organizing his planner. By the first day of the term, Sam had fallen back into his familiar routine—patrol in the morning with the scouts, schoolwork until late afternoon, supper in the mess hall, and then evenings spent unwinding.
There were, however, several significant changes to his schedule. First, Optimus began meeting with him once or twice a week, as his duties permitted, to continue their lessons on Cybertron. The knowledge that he was technically a Prime put these lessons into an entirely different perspective. As always, Optimus was endlessly patient with Sam's questions, which often led them down the garden path of history, politics, and religion. Optimus was also tolerant of Sam's tentative inquiries into his time spent as a data clerk in Iacon, particularly as it related to his becoming Prime. Sam was moved by Optimus' willingness to share details about his life as Orion Pax, which he knew that the Autobot leader kept close to his chest.
The second significant change to Sam's schedule came in the form of governance lessons with Dave Carter. The personal aid had been the de facto point-person for Optimus since Diego Garcia was recognized as an independent state. Once Sam was cleared for return to active duty, as it were, he and Dave began spending long hours in Dave's office in South Quad as the agent brought him up to speed on all that had happened over the last seven months. Dave was a patient teacher who focused on the pragmatics of statecraft over diplomacy. Owing to Dave's busy schedule, they often found themselves meeting at strange times—early in the morning one day, late in the evening another—but Sam didn't mind. He had come to regard Dave as a close friend, despite the differences in their age and experience.
The third change had less to do with Sam and more to do with Hot Rod. In late March, Kup had recommended to Prime that Hot Rod join him on the Elite Guard. Owing to the disproportionate number of scouts on base, Prime had agreed. By April, Hot Rod had officially transitioned from scout to cavalier, under Kup's direct authority. Although this was an advancement for Roddy, he bemoaned the inability to join them on their patrols, often at great length and volume.
Although, Sam mused privately to himself, his complaining probably had less to do with missing out on patrols as it did with being under Kup's command. The older mechanoid was serious and strict, and he held Hot Rod to an exceptionally high standard—an unrealistically high standard, if you asked Hot Rod.
So it was that, on one morning in late April, Sam made his way to the receiving room to find Cliffjumper, Bumblebee, Hot Rod, and Sunstreaker talking animatedly amongst themselves. Sam crooked a smile at the sight of them, a riot of technicolor plating, as he approached. The receiving room was busy, with an assortment of soldiers, officers, and civilian administrative staff coming and going as they prepared for the start of the morning shift. Sam cut across the room, sidestepping around a cluster of Air Force personnel and nodding in acknowledgement at their polite greetings—he had long since given up correcting people who referred to him in some form of honorific address.
He brushed against Bumblebee's mental presence as he approached, smiling at the swell of welcome and amusement that he felt in response. Sunstreaker, Hot Rod, and Cliffjumper paused in their discussion, greeting him good-naturedly as he stopped in front of them. Sunstreaker crouched down, his arms resting lightly on his knee-struts.
"Good morning, Sam." He greeted, and Sam smiled at the warrior in return.
Of all the things that had happened as a result of Ripcord's attack, perhaps the most unexpected was the change in his relationship with Sunstreaker, and by extension, Sideswipe. The usually caustic mechanoid had softened considerably in the weeks since Sam on-lined. Although he never again pressed in on him as he had at Simpson Point, Sunstreaker stayed as close to Sam as polite convention would allow. He was endless tolerant of Sam's fumbling attempts to improve his firewalling and navigate the neural network, offering to assist him in this way or that. Although Sunstreaker's short temper and cutting sarcasm remained, they had all developed something of a comradery since Ripcord's attack.
Bumblebee had been cool and reserved at first, but he had eventually thawed out.
"Hey guys," Sam greeted cheerfully, "What's up?"
"I'm here to escort Hot Rod to the Ark." Sunstreaker said dryly, "As he is incapable of following orders in a timely manner."
Sam laughed, "What did you do to deserve Roddy duty?"
Hot Rod glanced at him, pantomiming an expression of injured surprise, "Ouch. What's with the drive-by?"
Sam grinned at him unrepentantly, "Is it really a drive-by if you're committing career suicide?"
"It's not career suicide. I'm a conscientious objector."
"To what? Work?"
Hot Rod gasped dramatically, turning to look at Cliffjumper.
"Are you going to let him talk to me like that?" He demanded. When Cliff shrugged noncommittally, Hot Rod crossed his arms and complained, "Jolt would kick ass for me."
Before Cliffjumper could reply, a strident alarm cut through the din of the receiving room. Its shrill wail was accompanied by the bright strobe of the emergency lights, and Sam stiffened from head to toe. He recognized the alarm—Prime had put the base on preliminary activation. He reached for Bumblebee across their bond, trying not to betray his sudden anxiety.
/What is it?/
/Possible Decepticon sighting./ Bumblebee replied, transforming into his alt mode in a blur of rapidly shifting metal. Once his wheels landed on the concrete floor, he popped his door open and Sam climbed into his cab. By the time that Sam settled into the driver's seat, the other Autobots had also transformed. They accelerated together towards the bridge, making it to the command center in record time. Humans and Autobots alike were streaming into the large room, taking their positions according to their station. As Sam ascended the metal stairs of the scaffold, he was surprised to see Dave Carter and Will Lennox standing next to middle-aged, heavyset Indian man. The stranger had thin-framed glasses and a thick mustache, and he wore a charcoal suit that practically exuded upper management. Optimus was standing in front of them in his bipedal mode, his countenance unusually serious.
Sam hesitated, unsure whether he should approach them or make his way around the group, when Optimus turned brilliant blue optics towards him. He had only a brief moment to lament his Bermuda shorts and five o'clock shadow, before Optimus gestured in his direction.
"Minister, allow me to introduce our Ambassador, Samuel Witwicky."
Sam steeled himself, arranging his face in the polite expression that he had come to think of as diplomacy-neutral as he approached the group.
"Sam, this is Minster Doval, the National Security Advisor to the Prime Minister of India."
"Good morning, Minister. It's a pleasure to meet you." Sam greeted, shaking his proffered hand.
The older man hummed noncommittally, "Mr. Witwicky, the pleasure is mine."
Although the man's reserved nature did not betray any distaste, Sam had the distinct impression that he had been measured and found wanting. Sam resisted the urge to frown, well aware of the weight of Optimus' regard.
"To what do we owe the honor?" He asked instead, well aware that the Minister was in some way connected to the suspected Decepticon sighting that had prompted the NEST activation.
Doval pushed one hand into the pocket of his trousers, waving the other towards Optimus dismissively, "Your leader will explain shortly."
It took effort to keep the grimace off his face, but Sam managed it.
Less than ten minutes later, Optimus stepped up to the large conference table and the room fell quiet of its own accord. He nodded to Prowl, who typed quickly on the data pad in front of him, and then a grainy camera feed came into focus. The video showed an eight lane divided highway in a major metropolitan area. Traffic was heavy on both sides of the median, and the air was hazy with smog. The video clip played for ten seconds, froze, and then repeated itself on loop. Sam frowned, tilting his head in confusion. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking at.
When Optimus spoke, his voice was solemn and serious.
"Yesterday, at approximately 6:42 PM local time, speedometers on National Highway 16 recorded an anomalous reading of 588 kilometers per hour. Less than three minutes later, a highway camera recorded this video over 30 kilometers away."
Sam glanced back to the camera feed, still unsure what he was supposed to be seeing. Prowl's digits flew over the keyboard in front of him, and then two stills appeared beside the continuously looping footage. One image showed a sleek blue car in the far distance, the next image showed the same car in the immediate foreground.
Minister Doval stepped up to the scaffold and cleared his throat, "The cameras on our major thoroughfares take pictures every three seconds. This car, make and model Koenigsegg Agera, would have been traveling over 600 kilometers per hour to cross that distance in that time."
Sam felt his eyebrows raise of their own accord. Bumblebee had once told him that his top speed was somewhere in the ballpark of 450 kilometers per hour, and he was one of the fastest scout's under Prime's command. He leaned forward as Prowl typed something on the keyboard, and a second set of image stills appeared on the other side of the video clip. Once again, the blue car was visible in the background of one image and the foreground of another. This set of stills was notable for the sizable increase in congestion—not only had the car traveled half a kilometer in three seconds, it had done so while weaving in and out of heavy traffic.
"How is this possible? It's like it teleported." Sam muttered in confusion.
Optimus glanced in his direction, "That is the crux of the question. No known ground frame has the ability to teleport, yet the unknown mechanoid was traveling at speeds that far surpassed even our fastest infiltrators."
Doval frowned minutely, "So it's definitely not one of yours, then?"
Optimus shook his helm, "It is unlikely, Minister."
The frown on Doval's face deepened, his eyes narrowing in thought, "As you can imagine, the Indian government will not permit a Decepticon agent to travel with impunity within our borders."
Prime nodded, his countenance unusually grim.
"I understand, Minister. I will dispatch my soldiers to investigate immediately." Prime turned to look at the scouts who had assembled at the other end of the conference table, "Bumblebee and Sideswipe, you will travel to the mainland and reconnoiter this unknown mechanoid."
Sam's breath stuttered out of him in surprise, and he felt Ratchet's sudden censure across their bond.
"Why Bumblebee?" He blurted, interrupting Optimus mid-sentence. The Autobot leader turned to regard him for a long moment before he replied.
"As you are aware, Bumblebee is one of the fastest scouts under my command. He and Sideswipe have the best chance of tracking the unknown mechanoid without being detected."
Sam's surprise was quickly turning into ice-cold fear, and he struggled to keep the waver out of his voice.
"Send Cliffjumper instead." He said, his voice sharper than he intended.
Optimus' expression barely changed—his optics narrowed minutely and his mouthplates tightened—but Sam could feel his disapproval, and he flushed in response. Sam had seen Optimus direct that look at others, but never before had it been directed towards him. He dropped his gaze, gripping the railing of the scaffold until his knuckles turned white.
"Bumblebee and Sideswipe, you have your orders. Be prepared to depart within the hour." Optimus ordered, as though Sam had not interrupted him. When Sam hazarded a glance up, he saw Bumblebee staring at him from across the room. His expression was inscrutable, but Sam could feel the scout's frustration and restlessness across their bond.
/You said that bonded pairs are kept off the battlefield./ Sam accused, feeling inexplicably betrayed.
/I'm not going into battle, I'm going into the field./ Bumblebee corrected, and Sam could feel the irritation in his words, /This is what I do, Sam./
Sam understood then that he had not just disrespected Optimus in front of his entire senior staff, he had also undermined Bumblebee's competency as a scout and a solider. He felt nauseous with mingled shame and dread, and he wrapped the egress filter around his mental presence as tightly as he could manage. The pressure-bordering-on-pain was a welcome distraction.
Distantly, he realized that the Indian Minister was speaking again.
"The government is anxious to handle this quickly and discretely, Prime."
Optimus inclined his helm minutely, "My scouts will track the unknown mechanoid from a distance. If they are discovered, they will retreat rather than engage in battle. The wellbeing of civilians is a concern that we share, Minister."
Sam listened as Optimus and Prowl arranged for the scout's departure. Bumblebee and Sideswipe would be traveling by C-17 aircraft to the mainland, where they would travel north on National Highway 16 to the last known location of the mechanoid. From there, they would attempt to track its Energon signature and determine its affiliation. If the mechanoid turned out to be a Decepticon, which seemed most likely, then they would monitor its movements and radio for reinforcements.
When Optimus finished speaking, the room erupted into carefully coordinated chaos as technicians and support staff hurried to follow Prime's orders. Optimus gestured for the Minister to follow him, and the two dignitaries left the command center together. Shortly thereafter, he felt a tentative touch in his mind, contrite and disquieted in equal measures, and Sam glanced back towards Bumblebee. Although the scout was not looking at him, Sam knew that he had his full attention.
/I know that this is difficult, but I'm good at what I do. I'll be okay./
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to keep his fear and anger under control. He wanted to plead with Bumblebee—to beg him not to go, to be safe, to come back in one piece—and he wanted to yell, to vent his anger at the scout's seemingly cavalier attitude at being sent away, at being put into danger yet again. He wanted to tell Optimus exactly what he thought about sending Bumblebee into the field and putting them both at risk. He wanted to scream until he was hoarse, to hit something until his outside felt as shitty as his inside.
He could do none of those things, however, so instead he steeled himself before he replied.
/You should get going. You're due at the airfield in twenty./
He felt Bumblebee's disquiet sharpen into concern, and Sam projected calm acceptance to the best of his ability.
/Go on./ Sam encouraged, giving him a little nudge across their bond, /I'll see you soon./
Bumblebee hesitated for a long moment before he brushed against Sam's presence in acquiescence. It was clear that he had not deceived his guardian, but Bumblebee had clearly appreciated his effort all the same. He glanced towards the scout in time to see him transform into his alt mode and accelerate out of the command center, followed a moment later by Sideswipe.
Sam set his jaw, his grip on the railing tightening until the metal cut into the soft skin of his palms. Over the next twenty minutes, he stared at nothing in particular as Prowl prepared for the C-17's departure. His attention was focused inward, towards Bumblebee's spark signature that glowed at him distantly. He stayed like that, silent and intent, as Prowl gave the green light for departure. He watched the large cargo jet trundle towards the runway on the large monitors at the back of the command center. As the C-17 prepared to take-off, he felt Bumblebee's gentle touch in his mind—a farewell and a promise.
/Good luck. Bring me back something nice./ He murmured across their bond. He felt a swell of amusement from his guardian, and then the C-17 was accelerating down the runway. Moments later, the large plane was wheels up, and Bumblebee's presence faded until it was a pinprick in the distance of the neural network—and then it was gone.
Their bond felt quiet and still. It was a deeply disconcerting feeling, like homesickness. Like loss.
Sam pushed back from the railing, walking towards the stairs without a backwards glance. He was aware of Ratchet's presence through the bond, equal parts serious and stern. Sam withdrew as far as the Creator bond would allow him, hoping that Ratchet would take a hint and leave him alone.
Not that he could do anything about it either way, Sam thought grimly.
He took the stairs two at a time, and then walked briskly towards the command center entrance. He didn't look at anyone as he passed, staring resolutely ahead as he pulled the veil tighter still around his mental presence. He had no desire for anyone to know about the maelstrom of anger, fear, and shame that was churning through him. Before he could reach the exit, however, Sunstreaker crouched down beside him.
"Do you want a drive?"
Sam bristled, offended that the warrior would presume to step into Bumblebee's place in his absence. Before he could tell Sunstreaker to fuck off, however, the yellow Autobot raised his servos placatingly.
"Nothing like that Sam. I just thought that you might want to talk—I know something of what you're going through."
Sam exhaled slowly, his cheeks pinkening in embarrassment. Of course Sunstreaker would understand; he had been separated from his spark twin for thousands of years. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, before glancing up at the warrior apologetically.
"Thanks Sunny, but no thanks. I don't feel like talking."
The yellow mechanoid lifted his pauldrons in a shrug, "Let me know if you change your mind."
Sam searched the warrior's face, looking for some sign of judgment or mockery, but he could find none. He nodded slightly, murmuring his thanks, and then walked out of the command center. West Quad was a flurry of activity as human soldiers and support staff hurried to complete their orders. Sam sidestepped around a cluster of administrative personnel, and headed in the direction of the bridge. He was half-way to the West Quad entrance when Optimus' holoform shimmered to life in front of him.
Sam pulled up short and pushed his hands into his pockets, well aware of how defensive he must look.
"Do you mind dressing me down someplace less public?" Sam asked flatly.
"May I walk with you?" Optimus replied instead, and Sam could do nothing to hide the grimace that pulled at his face.
"It's a free country." He replied automatically, before realizing his mistake. Rather than correct himself, however, Sam continued walking as Optimus fell into step beside him. Sam waited for the Autobot leader to say something, a sense of trepidation building in his gut, but Optimus was quiet. They were almost to North Quad before the tension had become intolerable, and Sam was driven to speak to alleviate his discomfort.
"I shouldn't have questioned your orders." He said, unable to look at the holoform, "I was out of line."
Optimus sighed, and it was a long moment before he replied.
"You can always come to me with your concerns, Sam. I value both your perspective and your feedback." Optimus said, turning to look at him solemnly, "But there is a time and a place to voice your dissent, and that was not it."
"I know, I'm sorry." Sam replied, resisting the urge to flinch away from the quiet reprimand in Optimus' voice, "I guess I panicked."
They stepped through the North Quad doors together, and continued towards the Officer's section.
"Your bond with Bumblebee, although a gift from Primus, has complicated matters." Optimus admitted, apropos of nothing, and Sam glanced at him in surprise.
"What?"
"Bumblebee is one of my most valuable soldiers. His loss on the battlefield will be a significant detriment in our fight against the Decepticons."
Sam turned his head to frown at the Autobot leader, "You won't send Bumblebee into battle again?"
Optimus glanced at him, his expression solemn, "No, Sam. To risk Bumblebee is to risk you both."
Sam's frown deepened. He should have been elated by the news that Optimus would no longer send Bumblebee to the frontlines, but Prime's remorseful tone had pulled him up short. After a moment, Sam understood. Bumblebee was the most loyal being, human or Autobot, that he had ever met. It would kill him to sit on the sidelines while his comrades risked their lives in battle.
"Is that why you sent him?" Sam asked quietly. It would be like Optimus to give Bumblebee the chance to contribute to their cause in ways other than battle—he had done the same for Sam, after all.
"That is part of the reason, yes, but Bumblebee's capabilities as a scout make him the obvious choice for this assignment."
Sam nodded slowly, falling silent as they approached his apartment. He pressed his badge against the card reader, hesitating a long moment with his hand on the door handle.
"I am sorry, Optimus." He said at last, voice quiet.
Optimus' face softened in a smile, "I know, Sam. You're long since forgiven."
Sam nodded slowly, murmuring his thanks before he pushed open the door and stepped into his apartment. When he glanced over his shoulder, the holoform was gone.
The following days passed by in a miserable blur.
The longer that Bumblebee was gone, the more that their bond ached in his mind. It was like an angry bruise, tender and sore, and it served as a constant reminder of his absence. At first, Sam tried to distract himself with schoolwork, but after re-reading the same paragraph for half an hour, he had tossed his textbook aside in disgust. He spent the rest of the afternoon flipping through channels on the television and browsing the Internet, but to no avail—nothing he did could take his mind off the emptiness of their bond.
By the following morning, Sam had completely lost his appetite. He spent his time alternating between the bed and the couch, but he did not step foot out of his apartment all day. He became aware of Ratchet's presence across their bond shortly after noon, pointed and concerned, but Sam resolutely ignored him. It was just after seven in the evening when Ratchet's holoform appeared in his living room, pinning him with an openly disapproving look as soon as he solidified. Sam glared back at the holoform from his spot on the couch, pulling the throw blanket up to his shoulders.
"Could you knock for once?" He snapped.
"Knock, knock." Ratchet replied sarcastically, "Get up."
"Ratchet—" Sam started, a threat in his voice, when the holoform yanked the blanket off him. Sam sat up at once, anger replacing the miserable apathy that had shrouded his mind all day, "What the fuck, Ratchet!"
The holoform tossed the blanket into Sam's bedroom, looking back at him expectantly.
"I said get up."
"I heard you the first time."
"Sam, I've given you all day to exercise some modicum of self-preservation." Ratchet said, not unkindly, "Now you're going to the mess whether you like it or not."
Sam stared at the holoform in disbelief for a long moment, before the fight abruptly went out of him. He dropped his gaze, rubbing a hand over his mouth before he could speak.
"This is bullshit, Ratchet." Sam said quietly.
"We can talk about it on the way." He replied, handing Sam his shoes. Sam sighed, toeing on his sneakers and climbing to his feet without further protest. Ratchet gestured towards the door, giving Sam his badge as he passed. Sam pulled the lanyard over his head and stepped into the corridor, Ratchet following close behind him. They walked in silence, but Sam was aware of the medic's quiet regard through the bond. When they arrived at the mess hall, he glanced at Ratchet in surprise as he followed him inside. The holoform lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
"You could use the company."
Sam huffed quietly, but he did not voice a complaint. He picked up a tray and moved along the galley, grabbing items indiscriminately as he walked. The mess hall was quiet that night, quiet enough that he could hear the buzz of the flat screen television mounted to the wall a short distance away. In a strange twist of déjà vu, Sam realized that Bob's Burgers was playing on the screen.
It was not a welcome association.
Sam sat at the nearest empty table, working through his tray methodically. Ratchet sat across from him, his expression inscrutable, as Sam finished his meal. When Sam put down his fork, he glanced at the holoform in mild exasperation.
"Satisfied?"
"Not in the least." He replied seriously, pushing his chair back and standing up. He took Sam's tray and nodded his head towards the mess hall entrance. They walked together to the trash and then out into the corridor. Sam could feel Ratchet's mounting introspection, and the holoform eventually sighed.
"I understand how difficult this has been for you. I'm sorry."
Sam glanced at him in surprise, taken aback by the sympathy in his voice. All at once, Sam realized that Ratchet was certainly able to feel the omnipresent ache in his mind. Sam pushed his hands into his pockets, raising one shoulder in a haphazard shrug.
"When Bumblebee told me about spark bonds, he left out the part about the shittiness of separation." Sam replied dryly, "It takes a lot of the shine off it, let me tell you."
"My vicarious experience has been an unpleasant education." Ratchet acknowledged, "But I am sure that it will get easier with—"
"Ratchet, if you say this will get easier with practice," Sam interrupted him dryly, "I might actually commit ritual suicide."
The holoform's lips quirked in amusement, "I was going to say that it will get easier with time. I have it on good authority that as your bond strengthens and as you gain experience with separation, it will hurt less."
Although his words failed to comfort Sam, they did pique his curiosity.
"Sunstreaker?" He guessed.
Ratchet nodded, "He has been concerned about you. They both have."
Sam sighed softly. He was no stranger to depression, having struggled greatly when he had first arrived on base. The bleakness of the last two days had reminded him of those first painful months, and he was forced to admit that the twins' concern was not entirely baseless. Sam felt Ratchet's intense scrutiny through their bond, and he was surprised by his sudden urge to reassure the medic.
"I'll be fine." He murmured, glancing at the holoform, "Like you said, it'll just take time, and apparently I have that in spades."
Ratchet made a considerate noise, but his scrutiny did not abate in the least. They walked the rest of the way to his apartment in companionable silence, passing by officers and soldiers with terse nods of acknowledgement. When Sam pressed his badge against the card reader, Ratchet pulled open the door for him. Before Sam could step into his apartment, however, the holoform abruptly reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder.
"You'll be fine, Sam." Ratchet muttered, giving him a little shake, "Doctor's orders."
Sam's lips quirked, "Thanks Ratch. I don't know what I'd do without you."
The holoform stared at him for a long moment, and it did not take a mental bond for Sam to understand what it was that Ratchet was thinking. He smiled at the holoform affectionately, nudging him from across their bond.
/Right back at you./
Ratchet huffed loudly in the silence of the corridor, dropping his hand away.
"Get some sleep." The medic ordered, and then a moment later his holoform disappeared.
Sam laughed quietly, stepping into the apartment and letting the door close behind him. He made his way around the space, tidying up the mess that had built up over the last two days, before he walked into the bedroom. He grabbed a pair of sleep pants, and then stepped into the bathroom. He had just turned the shower value to hot and was about to shuck his pants, when a familiar alarm cut through the silence of the room.
He jerked back in surprise, his heart leaping into his throat. Before he could reach out to Ratchet, however, the medic's voice was already cutting across their bond.
/The scouts have reported back and it does not look good. Make your way to the command center as soon as you are able./
Sam slammed off the shower value, refastening his pants as he jogged into his living room. He was dressed and making his way towards the bridge only moments later.
/Is Bumblebee alright?/ He demanded, and he felt Ratchet's wince in response.
/He's fine, and lower your volume./
Sam pulled the veil tightly around himself reflexively, stepping through the North Quad entrance before quickening to a jog.
/I'll be there as soon as I can./
He felt a thrum of acknowledgement from the medic, and Sam sidestepped out of the way of a harried looking officer. It was the better part of ten minutes before he jogged into the command center, out of breath and anxious. The large room was unusually quiet, and Sam could tell by the atmosphere of tense anticipation that whatever the scouts had found was cause for serious concern. He took the stairs of the scaffold two and a time, hurrying to meet Will and Dave who were standing at their customary position at Ops.
"Sorry I'm late." He apologized as he came to a stop beside them, "I was just getting into the shower."
Dave shook his head, "You're not late. We're still waiting on a few people."
Sam glanced towards the large conference table in the middle of the room. Optimus, Prowl, Ratchet, and Ironhide were present, but Kup and Ultra Magnus were conspicuously absent. So too were Sunstreaker and Cliffjumper, and when Sam checked the time on his phone he realized that the scouts were certainly on patrol.
He glanced back towards his companions, "What do we know?"
"Bumblebee's message was terse, they can't send large data packets when they're reconnoitering, but they have found evidence of multiple Decepticons in the area."
Sam frowned, "What would they be doing in India? Staging an attack on Diego Garcia?"
Will shook his head minutely, "It's not outside the realm of possibility, but it's unlikely. They're too far north to be converging for an attack on the island."
Before Sam could reply, he heard the distant roar of engines and the remaining Autobots made their way into the command center. As soon as they transformed and took their positions around the room, Optimus stepped up to the conference table. He nodded once to Prowl, and after a short pause, a topographic map of India appeared above the table. It rotated slowly, and Sam could see two blue dots on the eastern part of the map. As he watched, five red dots appeared scattered across the east coast.
"The scouts travelled to National Highway 16, where they picked up the trail of the unknown mechanoid. They followed its signature all the way south to Chennai, before the trail disappeared. However, in and around the city, they found traces of numerous Decepticon signatures—including Barricade and Shockwave."
Sam felt his stomach fall into his feet, dread twisting in his gut at the Autobot leader's foreboding tone. Optimus gestured to the holographic projection, and it zoomed in on the east coast where a red dot blinked ominously.
"The signatures appear to be converging around the Madras Atomic Power Station, located here approximately 80 kilometers south of Chennai. The Indian government is treating this incursion as a threat to national security."
"They going to attack the reactors, Optimus?" Will asked, matter-of-factly. Sam grimaced deeply, the Major voicing the question that sat heavily on his mind.
Prowl stepped forward, tilting his head considerately.
"That is a possibility, Major. A meltdown of the Madras Atomic Power Station would cause widespread destruction on the Indian subcontinent, and the prevailing winds would carry nuclear fallout into western China, Nepal, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. It would be a humanitarian disaster of untold proportions."
Will's expression darkened, his body going very still. Sam recognized that look—he had seen it before in Mission City and in Egypt.
Sam glanced back towards the holographic projection as Prowl spoke, something niggling at his mind.
"Why there, though?" He asked hesitantly. Optimus turned to look at him, and Sam could tell by his expression that he was encouraging him to continue, "How many nuclear power plants does India have?"
"Twenty-two." Prowl replied promptly.
"So why this particular power plant? And why now?"
"Both good questions. The Madras Atomic Power Station is the only station in India that is a part of the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor program, an international effort to achieve low-energy nuclear reactions—or cold fusion, as it is often called. It is also the least guarded facility involved in the program."
Optimus rumbled lowly, an ominous sound that made the hairs on the back of Sam's arms stand up.
"As a result, the power station has a host of equipment and materials to support cold fusion research. If a nuclear meltdown is not their objective— or at least, not their only objective— it is conceivable that the strike force may have been ordered to obtain these materials."
"Megs does have fusion canons, and we haven't seen him since Egypt." Will put forward, and Sam did not miss the grimace that pulled at Optimus' mouthplates at the epithet, "Could he be using those materials for repairs?"
Prowl inclined his help in acknowledgement, "It is possible, Major."
"So it's all bad news, then." Sam muttered grimly.
"Regardless of their motivation, we cannot allow the Decepticon forces to attack this power station." Optimus asserted, his countenance equal parts serious and resolved, "The repercussions would be inconceivable."
His optics swept slowly across the room, "We will go to intercept the Decepticons and prevent whatever it is that they are planning. I am ordering three strike teams for deployment." He nodded towards the map of India, and it zoomed in to an area surrounding the nuclear power plant. Three staging areas were marked on the map, designated with team labels, "Ratchet and I with join Strike Team Alpha in the northern quadrant. Ironhide, Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe will join Strike Team Bravo in the southern quadrant. Arcee, Chromia, Elita-One, Mudflap, and Skids will run interference on the periphery, providing reinforcements as required."
Sam chewed his lip, a deep sense of foreboding settling in his gut. He hesitated a moment, and then brushed against Optimus' spark signature inquiringly. Prime turned to look at him, inclining his helm permissively.
"Yes, Sam?"
"Could this be a feint?"
Prowl nodded at once, "Although Megatron is most likely to engage in a full frontal assault, false flag operations are not outside of his modus operandi." He turned to look at Optimus seriously, "It would be prudent to prepare for that contingency."
"I agree, Prowl." Optimus rumbled, "The remainder of our forces will stay on the island to coordinate defense. We will also bring the ground bridge to India to establish at the rendezvous point, in case the island is attacked or we are overwhelmed." He turned once again to survey the room with a solemn and dignified expression, "NEST in on high alert until further notice. You have your orders."
The next few hours passed by in a dizzying blur. Optimus and his team departed by C-17 aircraft shortly before ten o'clock that evening. By midnight, Sam found himself in the command post of logistics, a large room filled with computer terminals and monitors located deep within South Quad. Dave stood at his side, a grim expression on his face as he adjusted the coiled tube earpiece in his right ear. The agent had been coordinating with Will ever since the Autobots departed.
The command post was a bustle of reserved activity. Technicians worked at their stations, as officers walked up and down the aisles, relaying orders and checking for situational updates. Sam and Dave stood on the squat walkway of the upper level, which was separated from the main floor by only three steps and a narrow railing. Sam was watching the screen of the technician in front of him, which displayed the video feed of a body camera from Alpha Team. He could make out the power plant in the distance, illuminated in the bright green of a night vision camera.
Sam fiddled with the headset that he had been given when he had arrived, adjusting the mic and double-checking that it was muted.
"Strike teams, confirm your positions." Prowl's cool voice cut through his headphones. There was a loud crackle of static, and then the confirmations began coming in.
"Strike Team Alpha, in position. No Decepticon activity observed."
"Strike Team Bravo, in position. No Decepticon activity observed."
"Floater team, in position." Sam recognized Chromia's voice, "We can detect some faint trace signals, but nothing that we can get a lock on."
Sam glanced up at the monitors that took up the entire back wall of logistics; each screen displayed a different angle of the power plant. He could make out Optimus Prime in one, his countenance focused and serious. There was Sideswipe and Sunstreaker in another, waiting in their alt modes in a large, empty parking lot. Another screen showed Ratchet, waiting on the fringes of a heavily vegetated area not far from Optimus' position. The sight of the medic caused Sam to reflexively draw the egress filter around his mental presence, a motion that was becoming second nature to him by now.
An officer stepped up to Dave, handing him a single piece of paper. Dave nodded, glancing down contemplatively, before handing the paper back to the officer with a murmur of thanks. He raised his hand to his earpiece, catching sight of Sam's confused expression.
"Sitrep." He explained, and then he was speaking to Will.
"Lennox, the Lancers are ready to depart. What are you orders?"
Dave paused for a moment before nodding, stepping forward to tap the technician in front of them on the shoulder. The man turned in his seat, glancing at Dave expectantly.
"Lancers have the green light. Lennox wants them in the air."
The man nodded, before turning back to his computer station. He typed briefly, before speaking into his headset.
"14th Fighter Squadron, you are cleared for immediate departure from the western airstrip."
Suddenly, Prowl's controlled voice cut across the chatter coming through Sam's headset.
"Unknown mechanoid, make and model Koenigsegg Agera, spotted 10 kilometers east-southeast of Kalpakkam. Bravo Team, be advised that the mechanoid is closing fast on your position."
"Acknowledged." Ironhide growled in response.
Although nothing changed outwardly, the tension in the room became palatable. Sam crossed his arms over his chest, as Dave leaned against the railing in front of them. Neither of them spoke a word. All of a sudden, there was a loud crackle of static and the sound of rapid gunfire burst from his headset. Sam felt his heart leap into his throat, and his eyes snapped to the center display on the back wall. Bravo Team scrambled out of the way as the blue Agera slid into their formation, transforming as it came to a stop. Its canons were already charged by the time that it finished its transformation, and it began firing indiscriminately into the team.
"Confirmed Decepticon presence, designation Detour," Prowl's calm voice cut over the sound of battle, "Infiltrator and saboteur. Armament includes arm-mounted laser cannons and vibroblades."
The video feed shook dizzyingly as the soldier ran for cover. Sam could make out Ironhide attacking the Decepticon before the solider slid in behind a concrete barrier. His eyes skipped from screen to screen, trying to see what was happening to Ironhide. Abruptly, the large screen in the center of the wall snapped to another angle of the battle, showing Ironhide and Detour pummeling each other. Detour disappeared as though he had teleported, before appearing a short distance away and unleashing a volley of laser fire into the midst of scattering NEST soldiers.
As Sam watched, two soldiers hit the ground hard. They did not get back up again.
"Fall back, reposition!" Ironhide barked over the channel.
"Prowl, orders?" Chromia cut in sharply, her voice strained and tense.
"Maintain your position."
All of a sudden, a loud roar ripped through the speakers of Sam's headset. He yanked it off his head, swearing viciously, as others in the room did the same. His eyes were drawn to the main screen on the center of the back wall by a flash of bright light. After a moment, the light faded until he could make out flames engulfing a structure in the foreground of the video feed.
"Is that the power plant?" He demanded urgently.
Dave shook his head, but before he could reply, Optimus' voice cut commanding over the channel.
"Shockwave and Barricade have attacked the diesel generator building. Alpha Team is moving to intercept."
"Acknowledged, Prime." Prowl replied, "Dispatching first responders and search and rescue now."
Before the strategist had finished speaking, there was a loud crackle of static and then Chromia's voice broke into the feed.
"Knock Out and Rampage are coming in hot—moving to intercept."
Sam turned to look at Dave, the first stirrings of genuine fear licking up his spine. The agent returned his gaze grimly, before looking back to the video feeds. Neither of them spoke as Prowl started to issue rapid-fire commands with his usual implacable calm, moving troops and resources into position to respond to the changing threats.
The well-oiled bustle of the command post was suddenly interrupted by a strident alarm that Sam had never heard before. The piercing klaxon cut to Sam's bones, and shortly thereafter, the emergency lights began to strobe rapidly. The reaction in the room was instantaneous—heads snapped up, bodies stilled, and voices died away as the command post fell into dead silence.
Suddenly, a loud boom shook the room.
As though flipping a switch, the command post burst into frantic action. People shouted orders across the room at one another, as technicians spoke urgently into their headsets. Major Greer, who was the commanding officer in the room, yelled for people to focus up and pay attention.
Sam turned panicked eyes towards Dave, who was reaching into his suit jacket and unholstering his service pistol. The agent raised his other hand, and pressed it against his earpiece.
"Agent Carter, en route to the bridge with precious cargo. ETA, ten minutes."
"Dave!" Sam yelled, voice strangled, "What the fuck was that?"
Dave's expression was grim, and he answered matter-of-factly, "Decepticons."
Sam's heart was pounding against his ribcage, as Dave grabbed his upper arm and pulled him towards the door. Immediately, Sam yanked his arm away and fell into step beside him. As they made their way through South Quad, an assortment of officers, soldiers, and civilian personnel rushed around them. All of them had serious or stricken expressions on their faces, and they hurried passed a cluster of civilian support staff that were openly weeping.
There was another loud boom, which caused dust and sand to float down from the ceiling. Sam could tell from the percussive force of the blast that it had been much closer than the last volley.
All of a sudden, Sam felt something brush against the egress filter in his mind. The touch was light and exploratory, almost curious, but indisputably hostile. Sam stumbled as he focused every ounce of his willpower inwards, establishing a filtering firewall between himself and the hostile presence.
"Sam?" Dave asked concernedly. After a moment, Sam blinked his eyes open and looked desperately at the agent.
"Megatron's here."
Dave's expression shuttered immediately, betraying nothing of his emotions, as he pushed Sam down the hallway. They ran, side-by-side, until they were out of logistics and back in the main part of South Quad. They were almost to the bridge entrance when thousands of small, silver balls began streaming out of the vents in the walls. Sam glanced down in confusion, pulling up short, as the metallic balls rolled across the floor in front of them.
Dave grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, pushing Sam behind him as he yelled into his earpiece.
"Microcons, eastern portion of South Quad, I need reinforcements!"
In a matter of seconds, the small, silver balls had coalesced together, transforming into a strange two-dimensional insect-like mechanoid. The Decepticon came at them fast, and Dave squeezed off three rounds as it approached. The mechanoid squealed loudly before shooting several razor-sharp pieces of shrapnel at the agent. The metal discs caught Dave squarely in the chest, and he went down hard. Sam was on him in an instant, his hands pressing against the bloodstains already blooming across his shirt.
The mechanoid darted to one side of the corridor and then the other, continuing its approach. Sam shook Dave desperately, but he remained motionless on the floor. Sam reached down and pulled the gun from his hand, turning to level the weapon at the approaching Decepticon. Sam had never fired a weapon in his life, but he instinctively braced one foot against the floor as his hand came up to steady the stock of the gun. The first three shots went wide, but the fourth hit the drone, spinning it around. The next three shots knocked it backwards, but the Decepticon kept coming.
Sam squeezed the trigger again, but it clicked uselessly in his hand. Empty.
Oh fuck.
The sound of heavy boots on concrete cut over the klaxon wail of the proximity alarm. Sam glanced behind the drone to see Will Lennox, Killian Anderson, and two unknown soldiers round the corner. Will raised his M4 as Killian shouted for him to get down!
Sam threw himself over Dave's prone form, tucking his nose into the agent's neck and raising his arms to shelter both of their heads. The loud, staccato roar of semi-automatic gunfire filled the corridor. It was deafening, louder than he remembered from Mission City or Egypt. The Decepticon drone squealed, high-pitched and pained, and then it shattered into its requisite parts. The sound of gunfire died away as the silver balls scattered across the hallway—lifeless and still.
Sam pushed back onto his heels, his hands flying to Dave's chest to apply pressure to his wounds. Will grabbed him roughly by the bicep, hauling him to his feet.
"Move your ass, Sam. Megatron is about thirty seconds from peeling open the Hive like a fucking orange."
"Will!" Sam shrieked, "We can't just leave him!"
Killian stepped forward, kneeling beside the agent and checking his pulse.
"I got him, Sam. Go!"
There was another percussive blast, louder than the first two explosions. Will shook him roughly.
"Come on, Sam!" He growled, and Sam nodded in acquiescence. With one last look at Dave, he followed Will as the Major ran for the bridge entrance. The two unknown soldiers followed behind them, protecting their six. When they stepped onto the bridge scant minutes later, they were greeted by pandemonium. Soldiers streamed towards the large receiving room, dressed in full combat gear and sporting semi-automatic rifles. Civilian support staff and technicians ran in the opposite direction, expressions of abject terror on their faces.
Before they could take a single step, Jolt squealed around the corner and slid to a stop in front of them. Sam and Will threw themselves into his cab, as Will ordered the two soldiers who had accompanied them to get Dave to the hospital ward. They nodded in acknowledgement, stepping back through the South Quad entrance as Jolt's doors slammed shut. The shock trooper's tires spun against the concrete until they found purchase, and then the Chevrolet Volt shot down the down the bridge at blinding speed.
Sam sat in the passenger's seat as they drove, with his eyes squeezed shut and breathing heavily. The strain of the filtering firewall was making itself felt, and he was sweating profusely before they made it to West Quad.
"You okay, kid?" Will asked, and he could hear the tension in his voice.
Sam shook his head minutely, "I can't keep this firewall up forever."
"Deep breaths, Sam." Will said encouragingly, "Just a little longer."
The large blast doors of West Quad closed behind them with a resounding boom. Jolt accelerated hard down the corridor, taking a corner and coming to a stop within one of the Autobot hangars. He popped his doors, and Sam and Will climbed out of the cab. The hangar was large and empty, except for Wheeljack and Perceptor.
"Where is everyone?" Sam asked, voice small and strained.
"Topside. Megatron has launched a full frontal assault."
"What's the situation?" Will asked grimly, checking his weapon.
"Not good." Jolt replied, "The command trine has attacked the airfield. Ultra Magnus, Kup, and Hot Rod have engaged. Their objective seems to be the Trion and the Ark. Megatron and Acid Storm have breached the outer perimeter of the Hive. It won't be long until they're in."
"What about Optimus? How soon can he get back?"
"Optimus is currently engaged. They are trying to make it back to the rendezvous point, but Shockwave is keeping them occupied."
Will scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away sweat and grime.
"We have to get you out of here." He said at last, turning towards Sam, "If Megatron breaches the Hive, we're finished."
Sam grit his teeth tightly, but he did not reply. Every ounce of his attention was focused on maintaining the firewall. Will turned to regard the researchers expectantly.
"Which one of you is the smallest and fastest?" He asked.
Wheeljack stepped forward, shifting from pede to pede, "I am the only one of us with a bipedal alt mode."
Will nodded in response, "Take Sam and go. Use the southernmost emergency exit and head towards the southeastern quadrant. It's thickly wooded, so the Decepticons will have trouble navigating the terrain. With any luck, the dense organic matter will also help to confuse their sensors."
Wheeljack bobbed his head in acknowledgement, before transforming into his motorcycle alt mode.
"Can you mask your spark signature?" Will asked, motioning for Sam to step forward.
"No, I cannot. I am not a stealth build."
Will raised one shoulder in a resigned shrug as Sam climbed onto Jack's seat.
"Then you'll just have to be fast and quiet."
"We are going to be sitting ducks out there." Sam managed grimly, as he grasped Jack's handlebars.
"You're sitting ducks in here, but in here you're trapped. We just need to buy ourselves some time for Optimus to get to the ground bridge."
Sam nodded stiffly, and Wheeljack accelerated forward without another word. The engineer drove out of the hangar and down the corridor towards the far end of West Quad. Sam couldn't spare the focus or the energy to ask him where they were going—the strain in his mind was an agonizing pounding now, and Sam knew that he didn't have long.
Wheeljack turned down a nondescript corridor, before chirping at him urgently.
"Brace yourself, Sam."
Sam barely had the time to squeeze his legs around the motorcycle's frame before Jack drove straight through the wall at the end of the corridor. The wall shimmered around them, and then they were speeding down a dark, narrow corridor beyond. Wheeljack accelerated rapidly, and soon Sam was forced to duck low over the handlebars to avoid the wind slashing against his face.
Sam squeezed his watering eyes closed, focusing on his breathing.
In, and out. In, and out.
There was a sudden jarring bump, and Sam's eyes flew open in surprise. They were outside, the sound of Jack's engines cutting out abruptly as they accelerated down the packed dirt road. He realized that they were not far from Simpson Point, heading south. He hazarded a glance towards the base, and he froze in horror at the sight. The glow of numerous fires illuminated the Downtown area, as clouds of acrid smoke billowed into the night—the smell of burning wood and fuel wafted towards him as they drove. A sudden loud explosion caused him to startle violently, his head snapping towards the airfield to see a large fireball swell upwards into the night's sky.
Please, don't let that be the Ark.
Sam gripped the handlebars tightly, the trees on either side of the road blurring as they drove. They made it to south-central in no time at all, and Wheeljack turned off the road and drove into the dense forest cover before coming to a stop. Sam climbed off, his legs shaky and weak, as Jack transformed into his bipedal mode. Without speaking a word, the two of them made their way deeper into the forest. It was strangely peaceful here, with the chirp of nocturnal insects and the distant sound of the ocean. They walked slowly, allowing Jack to make his way around the tangled undergrowth. Eventually, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of a distant explosion and the illusion of serenity was destroyed.
"Any ETA on Optimus?" Sam asked, and his voice sounded pained even to his own ears.
"Nothing yet." Wheeljack replied softly.
They came to a stop by a fallen palm tree, and Sam leaned heavily against its trunk. He was soaked in sweat, his shirt clinging to his body as he trembled from head to toe. Jack's optics shone brightly in the darkness, washing their surroundings in weak blue light. Sam's harsh breathing was the only sound to be heard this deep in the forest.
Suddenly, Sam felt warm wetness trickle out of his nose. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, surprised when it came away smeared with blood. With dawning realization, Sam understood that his time was up.
"You have to go, Jack. You can't stay here." He rasped harshly, looking up at the engineer.
Wheeljack whistled at him urgently, rocking back and forth on his pedes, "I won't leave you, Sam."
"Jack, I can't keep this firewall up any longer, and as soon as it drops, Megatron is going to know exactly where I am. You can't be here when that happens."
Wheeljack's dorsal fins turned a sickly yellow-green, "No, Sam. Either we both go or we both stay."
Sam looked at him in anguish, "Don't argue with me, Jack! Please. I don't think Megatron wants me dead, but he'll kill you."
To his dismay, Jack merely shook his helm, his expression resigned but determined. Sam felt a moment of heartsick panic, before he understood what he had to do. Sam grit his teeth, pulling himself up to his full height, as he pinned the engineer with his severest expression.
"Optimus says that I am a Prime. Do you believe him?"
A stricken look flashed across the engineer's face.
"Sam, please—"
"Head to Cust Point—the vegetation is sparse there, but you can hide along the rocky bream."
When the engineer failed to move, Sam injected every ounce of steel into his voice that he could manage.
"Wheeljack, do as I command."
Jack's dorsal fins flattened to his helm, turning rusty red before the engineer ducked his head in acquiescence. He turned to go, hesitating only long enough to say, "Please, be careful."
"I'll be fine, Jack. Go, now."
With a mournful-sounding string of Cybertronian, the engineer obeyed him, disappearing into the thick foliage of the tropical jungle without a backwards glance. Sam waited until he could no longer hear Jack's tires on the gravel in the distance, before he lifted his shirt to wipe the blood and sweat off his face. He waited for an additional count of twenty seconds, breathing deeply and steeling himself, before he let go of the filtering firewall. The neural network brightened in his mind for a brief second, brilliant and chaotic, before Sam drew the egress filter over his mental presence like a blanket. He immediately set off in a quick jog, making his way through the underbrush as fast as he could given the terrain. He was determined to put as much distance between him and that location as possible.
He had barely gotten two hundred feet before the roar of a jet engine shattered the night. Moments later, he heard a heavy impact a short distance behind him.
"Where are you, boy?" Megatron's voice reverberated through the foliage. The Decepticon's words were razor sharp, screaming predator to the deepest recesses of Sam's primitive hindbrain. He moved as quickly through the vegetation as he could manage without making any noise. It was slow going, but hopefully Megatron did not feel inclined to wander through the forest.
After a long moment, he heard the Decepticon leader's voice again.
"If you turn yourself over to me, I will be merciful with your fellow insects. They do not need to suffer the same fate as the Autobots."
His voice was closer now, drawing up on Sam's right, although there was still a good hundred feet between them. Sam pulled the veil tighter around his mental presence as he continued making his way through the forest. If Megatron knew where he was, he would attack—that the megalomaniacal dictator was inclined to barter suggested that his plan was working.
"So be it."
Sam ducked under a fallen palm tree, doing his best to stay low to the ground. His nose had stopped bleeding, but he could feel his blood sugar dropping—his hands were clammy and he was breaking out in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with his firewalls. Just then, he heard a loud snap several dozen feet behind him. Sam flattened against the tree trunk, going still instinctively. He strained his ears but he could hear nothing beyond the distant sounds of battle. After a long moment, he forced himself to his feet and jogged deeper into the undergrowth.
Suddenly, there was a loud screech from the canopy above him. His head snapped up, and he caught sight of a flash of movement among the palm fronds, glinting silver in the moonlight. Sam broke into a run, heedless of the noise that he might make. His feet sunk into the soft loam of the forest floor as he ran, maneuvering around obstacles as best as he could in the dim light. There was a sudden sound of cracking wood behind him, and then something heavy slammed into his back, knocking him off his feet. He landed face-first in the sand with a grunt, and then there was quiet growl above him as razor sharp teeth grabbed him around the neck.
Ravage.
He gasped in exertion and in fear, waiting for the symbiont to sink its teeth into his throat, but nothing happened. Sam struggled to get his hands under him, but Ravage's jaw tightened in response—not enough to injure him, but enough to send a message.
The earth shook as Megatron landed hard in front of him. Trees as thick as his waist snapped like twigs or were pulled out by their roots as the warlord approached. Suddenly, the weight on his back disappeared and Sam rolled over desperately. He found himself staring up into Megatron's narrowed optics, the Decepticon leader's face less than a meter from his own.
"There you are." He purred, pressing a servo into the soft loam on either side of Sam's body as he leaned closer. Fear unlike anything Sam had ever experienced in his life surged through him in an instant. He twisted his head, looking for an escape route, only to see Ravage stalking in a wide semi-circle a short distance away.
"There is no escape for you, boy." Megatron assured him, before tilting his head considerately. He stared down at Sam for a long moment, his expression almost curious, before Sam felt an intense pressure against the veil in his mind. He gasped in surprise, pulling the veil closer in on himself, but it was all for naught. The veil shivered and then disappeared, and Sam found himself back within the neural network.
"This is unexpected." Megatron rumbled, his tone equal parts surprised and thoughtful, "But not at all unwelcome."
Megatron's bloody red optics suddenly narrowed in concentration, and then his mental presence invaded Sam's mind. Sam cried out in surprise as Megatron crawled over every inch of his spark signature. The Decepticon leader's mental presence was focused and confident, and although Sam struggled in his grasp, Megatron held him easily. After a horribly long moment, there was a sudden sense of pressure in Sam's mind, the brightening of a connection, and then a Creator bond flared to life between them.
"No." He whispered through numb lips.
/Yes./ Megatron purred, his dark triumph swelling across their bond.
In that moment, Ratchet's presence filled Sam's mind as their bond flared brightly. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, for the mute terror that gripped him. He realized that the Autobots had returned, but he knew with certainty that it was too little, too late. It took less than a second for Ratchet's presence to swell with rage and horror.
Sam reached for the medic desperately, when he felt Megatron shift forward.
/Sam—!/ Ratchet cried, but Sam did not hear the rest of the sentence. There was a sudden feeling of pressure in his mind, and then everything telescoped away as Megatron forced him into stasis.
That night on the beach was the last time that Sam would see Diego Garcia for almost two long years.
Notes: Of course this story had to end with Megatron capturing Sam! It was where Steelfeather's Instability ended, and so too was this story destined to end on a cliffhanger. Please be warned: the next story will be markedly darker than Signature, including tags such as: captivity, torture, non-con, Stockholm Syndrome, abuse, suicidal thoughts, and (in later chapters) graphic sexual content. Thanks for sticking by me all this time. You guys are truly wonderful! If you're interested, please drop by [my blog]. I use it as a space to share fan art, geek about the series, and discuss all things Transformers.