They stood there together, in the cool shade cast by the building, for a long moment. Eventually, Sam leaned back as far as Bumblebee's arms would permit him, looking up at the holoform.
"So, you're not a beard man, then?" He teased softly.
The holoform's lips twitched in amusement, as he moved to card his fingers through Sam's short curls. The palms of his hands were warm where they rested against the sides of Sam's face. His grip firmed long enough for Bumblebee to bend down and press their lips together. It was a soft kiss, chaste and affectionate.
"Your physical appearance doesn't matter to me. You're you and you're—" Bumblebee cut himself off abruptly, consternation knitting the skin between his eyebrows. Sam's expression softened at the contriteness written all over the holoform's face.
"I'm yours." He agreed, finishing Bumblebee's sentence, "Say it."
The consternation in Bumblebee's expression deepened, a faint frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Sam huffed in response, reaching out to pinch the skin of the holoform's side between his thumb and forefinger. Bumblebee jumped, yelping in surprise.
"Say it." Sam repeated pleasantly, his lips twitching at the surprised disbelief that he could feel across their bond.
Bumblebee dropped a hand to rub where Sam had pinched him. When he finally replied, his voice was decidedly exasperated, "You're mine."
Sam laughed at his dry tone.
"I am." He agreed, grinning unrepentantly, "And you're mine."
Bumblebee huffed softly, as though in annoyance, but Sam could feel his amusement. Before he could reply, however, the sound of an engine caused them to glance over as a large military jeep trundled down Nimitz Road. Suddenly self-conscious, Sam stepped away from the holoform. Bumblebee let him go without protest.
"Do you want to go back to the Hive?" Bee asked. Sam paused, considering the question seriously, before he shook his head.
"I think I want to go for a walk." He replied, surprising himself. Although it was cool in the shade provided by the squat, brick building, it was a beautiful afternoon—sunny and hot, with the smell of the ocean lingering in the air. Bumblebee's expression warmed, becoming openly pleased.
"Would you like some company?"
"Always." Sam agreed, his lips quirking up in a smile.
The holoform returned his smile, falling into step beside him as Sam started walking. They made their way through the base, nodding at the people they passed on the dusty shoulder that served as the sidewalk. The vehicle traffic was heavy, given the hour, with a stream of Humvees, Jeeps, and other light armored trucks passing them as they walked.
The sunshine was intense, without any cloud cover, and they had barely made it to Britannia Way before Sam was rolling up his shirtsleeves. By the time that they had made it to the edge of the Downtown area, his forehead and neck were beaded with perspiration. Thankfully, the water was much closer to the road at this part of the base, separated from them by only a narrow strip of well-manicured lawn and a thin beach. The cool breeze coming off the ocean was refreshing whenever it brushed across Sam's skin.
As they left the main part of the base behind, the island's vegetation became more pronounced. It began with reedy grasses and low-lying ferns that eventually morphed into thick, green shrubs dotted with white flowers. The shrubs acted as a natural barrier, growing in haphazard bunches all along the littoral zone. As they walked further away from the base, the shrubbery became interspersed with short, thin trees that were not more than eight or ten feet high. The shade cast by their large fronds was weak but welcome, all the same.
As they approached Simpson Point, the better part of half an hour later, Sam happened to notice Bumblebee's alt mode trailing silently behind them. The Camaro flashed its high beams once, and Sam gave the holoform a friendly shove.
"Stalker."
Bumblebee scoffed lightly, as though he were offended.
"Please. If I were stalking you, you'd never know it."
Sam laughed, turning to make his way over the low dunes that separated the gravel road from the beach. The dunes were small and thin, barely more than half a meter in height. His shoes sunk into the white sand, warming his feet through the synthetic leather. The yellow Camaro came to a stop at the roadside behind them, metal pinging audibly in the hot, afternoon sun.
"Yeah, right. What about that first night in the junkyard?"
Sam could feel a wash of incredulity through their bond, and he glanced towards the holoform. Bumblebee's expression was openly sardonic.
"You don't seriously think you had the drop on me, do you?"
Sam stopped, halfway up the dune, as he turned fully to look at him.
"Oh, bullshit. You didn't know I was there."
"Sam, I'm an—"
"Infiltrator." Sam said at the same time, "Yeah, I know, I know."
Bumblebee rolled his eyes, "I intended for you to watch my transmission. I had hoped it would ease our first contact."
Sam shrugged good-naturedly, cresting the dune and making his way down the other side. Sand, loosened by his footfalls, cascaded in small slides down the slope of the hill.
"Yeah, it really didn't."
Bumblebee huffed a laugh, following after him, By the time that they made their way over the dune, Sam's shoes were filled with sand. He frowned in consideration for a fraction of a second, before he sat on his ass on the beach. As he pulled off one shoe, he squinted up at the holoform.
"I'm just saying, I'd notice you anywhere."
The holoform grinned, lowering into a loose crouch beside him. He balanced on the balls of his feet, arms resting on his knees, with his hands clasped loosely together.
"How long do you think I was following you before the used car lot?"
The question took Sam by surprise, and he glanced back at the holoform. Bumblebee was smiling at him, a smug, confident expression. Sam turned his shoe over, emptying out the sand.
"I don't know… a couple days?"
"Three weeks. Back and forth to school, to the grocery store, to the mall—you were never outside of my sensor range."
Sam's eyebrows rose to his hairline, a moment before his face scrunched in tolerant annoyance.
"You're full of shit."
"Nope." Bumblebee said, popping the 'p' with enthusiasm, "I was in Tranquility twelve hours after you first posted the eBay ad."
Sam stared up at the holoform, searching for any sign of deception in his expression or through their bond. Finding none, he huffed quietly as he pulled off his other shoe.
"Are you jerking me around?" Sam asked, curious and amused in equal measures.
Bumblebee laughed, shaking his head.
"I'm very good at what I do."
Sam smirked, certain that there was a double-entendre in there somewhere. He upended his shoe, giving it a good shake, before he frowned down at himself. Shoes or bare feet?
In the end, it was the gentle wash of water over sand that made his decision for him. Sam rolled his pants up past his knees and stuffed his socks into his shoes, leaving them by the dune. He pushed himself to his feet, reaching down to offer his hand to Bumblebee. The holoform humored him, grasping Sam's hand and pulling himself into a standing position. Together they padded across the beach towards the foreshore. The dry sand bordered on uncomfortably hot, but the sand that was wet from wave run-up was cool.
They walked together side-by-side, Sam nearer the water and Bumblebee nearer the beach. Every time the waves broke over the sand, water rushing around his feet, Sam grinned like a child. Unlike the beaches near Tranquility, Simpson Point was pristine—soft, white sand as far as the eye could see, unmarred by rocks or debris. Although coral reef posed a risk to feet and shins in the deeper water, walking along the foreshore was entirely pleasant.
Sam glanced sidelong at the holoform, suddenly possessed by a feeling of contentment. He reached out his left arm, tracing his fingertips over Bumblebee's hand. The holoform looked down at the point their hands touched, his expression becoming openly fond. Before either of them could say anything, however, the Creator bond shivered in his mind. A moment later, Ratchet's mental presence brightened forebodingly across their connection.
"Avenge my death." Sam said dryly, bracing himself. Bumblebee's lips quirked in sympathetic amusement.
/Where are you?/
Sam heaved a loud, put-upon sigh.
/I'm at Simpson Point./ He replied, before adding helpfully, /Dr. Anderson said that I should exercise./
Almost before the thought had crossed his mind, Ratchet's presence swelled with disapproval.
/Did your therapist also suggest meeting with Knock Out?/
Sam hesitated, affecting his best mental impression of wide-eyed innocence.
/They say it's better to ask for forgiveness than for permission./ He tried.
/Not from me./ Ratchet replied sharply. Although their bond was not as open as it had been the night before, Sam could still feel the medic's abject displeasure.
/It's alright, Ratch./ Sam tried to placate him, /Optimus went with me./
/The fact that you wheedled Prime into taking you to the Ark in no way improves your position./
Sam scoffed, mildly affronted.
/I didn't wheedle him, I reasoned with him—because Optimusis reasonable./ He replied, sharper than he had intended.
/Optimus is neither your physician nor your Creator./
All at once, Sam realized that Ratchet's objection to his meeting with Knock Out wasn't medical in nature. His expression softened, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
/Do you want me to come back?/ He asked hesitantly.
Ratchet's mental presence shifted, as though taken aback by Sam's sudden meekness.
/The damage is done./ Ratchet grudgingly replied, after a moment, /You might as well get some fresh air and sunshine. Do you feel up to returning to the neural-net?/
It took Sam a second to realize that Ratchet was asking whether he wanted to be free of the confines of the Creator bond. He shrugged, before realizing that the medic couldn't see the gesture.
/I defer to your medical opinion./
Ratchet snorted loudly.
/All evidence to the contrary, but very well. Let me know at once if you feel overwhelmed./
Sam felt the medic's presence shift in his mind, and then a moment later, he was back within the neural-net. The sudden influx of sensation was intense—numerous signatures glowed at him from the darkness of the network, brilliant and enticing. After years of solitude and silence, the experience was indeed overwhelming, but in a most exquisite way.
"Sam, are you alright?" Bumblebee asked, concern furrowing his brow as he brought up a hand to steady him.
Sam laughed softly, stretching his mental presence as far as he could manage. His range was significantly greater than it had been before his captivity. Insofar as he could tell, it encompassed most of the base now. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating. There, at the edges of his awareness, Sam could make out Hot Rod's rosy-gold signature. It was faint, but unmistakable.
"Where's Roddy?" He asked, glancing at the holoform in building excitement.
Understanding dawned on Bumblebee's face a moment before his expression smoothed into a pleased smile, "He's at the munitions depot."
Sam grinned broadly, reaching out to brush against the familiar signature. There was a start of surprise, and then Roddy pushed into his mental space, crowding his mind with great enthusiasm. Sam laughed delightedly, giving his presence a friendly shove, before turning his attention outwards. The neural-network was brighter, more alight with sensation and impression than he had previously realized.
"This is wild." Sam breathed, looking back at the holoform, "It's so… different."
"It will continue to change as you gain experience. The more your neural connections develop, the better you will become at interpreting the input you receive."
"I don't know how you guys get anything done. It's like having instant messenger in my head."
Bumblebee laughed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
"There's good reason why I was never bored sitting around in your garage all day." He teased.
Sam chuckled lightly before turning to continue down the beach. Bumblebee kept pace at his side, walking closely enough that their arms brushed together. The quiet solitude of the seashore was entirely at odds with the bustle of activity from the neural-net. Sam was surprised to find that the juxtaposition was strangely soothing: it was privacy and companionship, serenity and sensation.
Sam walked closer to the surf, so that the waves washed up past his ankles when they broke upon the shore. Even though the sun was relentless, the combination of the water and the ocean breeze left him feeling entirely comfortable. As he stared out at the water, Sam made the decision to go swimming the next time that Ratchet let him outside.
As they rounded the bend in the beach, Sam saw an unfamiliar mechanoid sitting cross-legged in the sand. The blue and white Autobot was surrounded by an assortment of debris—rocks, palm fronds, coconuts, and branches. He was holding a large coconut crab in his servos, staring at it with intense focus.
"Beachcomber." Bumblebee supplied helpfully.
Sam turned to grin up at him, "Yeah, I was able to put two and two together, thanks."
"You're welcome." Bumblebee replied dryly.
Beachcomber didn't acknowledge their presence until they were almost upon him. When at last they caught his attention, the geologist lowered the coconut crab to watch them approach.
"Good afternoon to you both." He greeted politely. His voice was deep and serene.
"Hello Comber." Bumblebee greeted back, before gesturing towards Sam, "This is Sam."
Beachcomber turned his brilliant blue optics in Sam's direction, "Your reputation proceeds you. I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance."
Sam felt himself flush to his hairline. He glanced towards the holoform, who lifted his shoulders in a sympathetic shrug.
"Your planet is fascinating. I have learned much during my time here." Beachcomber said, motioning with the coconut crab that he held gently with both servos, "I would enjoy the opportunity to speak with you about it."
Sam glanced at the mottled red and brown crustacean, who did not seem particularly enthused to be the object of scrutiny of the metal titan. When he looked back at the geologist, he was surprised to see keen interest written all over his faceplates. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
"I'm happy to chat, but I don't know anything you couldn't find with a Google search."
Beachcomber tilted his helm, as though in consideration, "I find that doubtful to believe. I am certain that your training in the geosciences would provide a unique perspective."
"My training in the geosciences?" Sam repeated, uncertainly.
"I was informed that you declared a major in geography. It is my understanding that geographers seek to understand the complexities of your planet."
Sam huffed in understanding.
"Oh, that. Yeah, I took some introductory courses on physical geography, but I'm studying to become a political geographer." Sam said, before adding wryly, "Or rather, I would be, if I could stop getting attacked every semester. It's really harshing my GPA."
As Bumblebee made a strangled sound of exasperation, Beachcomber transferred the coconut crab into one servo so he could wave the other one dismissively.
"Your personal experiences combined with your familial desire to understand the natural environment will surely provide me all the prospective I require."
Sam turned back towards the geologist, tilting his head in confusion, "My familial what-now?"
Beachcomber set the coconut crab onto the sand, before picking up a large rock from the semi-circle of debris around him. The stone was large, about the size of a laundry basket, chalk-white and covered in lumps and protrusions.
"Your grandfather led the National Arctic Circle Expedition, did he not? Your interest in geography seems highly appropriate."
Sam huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He had never thought about that before, but it was true that his grandfather was a navigator and explorer. Sam opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say a word, both Beachcomber and Bumblebee's holoform stiffened from head to toe.
"Sam!" Bumblebee snapped, grabbing his shoulders tightly, "We have to—"
A sonic boom cracked through the air, drowning out the rest of Bumblebee's sentence. Sam ducked back reflexively, his heart lodging itself in his throat. As Sam turned towards the direction of the noise, Bumblebee's grip tightened to the point of pain. Two sleek-looking jets streaked through the air, banking to curve around the island. Sam's surprise and fear morphed into mortal terror in an instant, and he turned panicked eyes towards the holoform. Before Sam could open his mouth to speak, he felt a presence brush gently across his mind. The touch was inquisitive, non-hostile, and entirely familiar.
/Hello Sam./ Thundercracker greeted.
Sam's breath stuttered out of him, his lungs freezing at the Seeker's voice. All at once, Ratchet's presence filled his mind, yanking him back inside the Creator bond so quickly that it made his head swim. He swayed precariously, lightheaded and dizzy, and Bumblebee's holoform pressed steadily against him. His expression was one of abject fury, his eyes following the jets as they cut across the sky.
In the distance, Sam could hear the steadily growing roar of a familiar engine. He glanced towards the bream as Bumblebee launched over the dunes, yellow plating gleaming in the early afternoon sun as he landed hard on the beachfront. The holoform pulled him towards the alt mode, his fingers digging into Sam's upper arms. He was so stunned that he staggered after him without protest. A moment later, Sam found himself inside the cabin, the door slamming shut behind him as Bumblebee accelerated back towards the road.
A riot of noise spilled from the Camaro's radio.
/I've got him./
/Kup, Hot Rod, and Ultra Magnus are two breams out./ Prowl's calm voice replied.
Sam twisted against the seat, turning to stare out the back window towards the beach. He could make out Beachcomber's hulking bipedal mode, shrinking in the distance, but he couldn't see the jets.
/Air defenses are primed and at the ready./
Sam's breathing was ragged, his fingers digging into the supple leather of Bumblebee's seat. Distantly, he was aware of his bonded's laser focus, his tightly leashed rage.
"What… what are they doing?" He managed, his voice harsh.
Prowl answered immediately.
/They are skirting the edges of our air defense, neither pushing in nor falling back./
Sam turned in his seat, staring at the radio uncomprehendingly.
"They aren't attacking?"
/Not yet./ Ironhide growled, and the dark edge to his voice made Sam shiver.
Bumblebee's engine revved loudly, the speedometer needle burying in the red. As they turned onto the paved road in the direction of Downtown, a Lamborghini, a semi-truck, and a dilapidated pick-up truck roared passed them. Bee slowed only marginally as they drove down Britannia Way towards the Hive. The Downtown area was a riot of activity. Soldiers and civilian personnel ran along the side of the road, some heading in the direction of the airfield while others hurried towards the Hive. Light armored vehicles filled with NEST soldiers passed them as they drove.
/There is an incoming ping, Decepticon identifiers, classified urgent./ Prowl reported, voice calm.
/What are those fraggers playing at?/
Bumblebee pulled into the bunker, rolling to a stop on the lift. The heavy blast doors shut behind them with a resounding clang of metal on metal. A moment later, there was a dizzying lurch and the lift began its descent into the Hive.
/Are they glitched?/ Sunstreaker snapped, disbelief and rage mingled in his tone.
"What?" Sam demanded, looking at the radio, "What did they say?"
"They want to parlay." Bumblebee replied, his voice tight.
Sam stared at the dash, anxiety mingling with disbelief.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"I am not." Bumblebee refuted grimly.
The sound of a strident alarm became audible as they passed through the floor, growing louder as they descended into the receiving room. All at once, Sam was back in Ops as the same alarm cut across the din of the command post. White-hot panic slammed through him as the flashback consumed him. He could smell the stale coffee in the air, feel the sweat prickling on his skin. He was totally unaware of his surroundings, the shrill klaxon of the alarm burrowing into the recesses of his brain—
Ratchet was there in an instant, his rock-steady presence filling his mind as he forcibly pulled Sam out of the memory. He came back to himself, shaking with adrenaline and desperately trying to pull breath into his burning lungs.
"Oh, shit." He gasped, his hands braced against the driver's side door and the center console, "Fuck!"
Bumblebee pulled into the medical bay, transforming as soon as he came to a complete stop. Before Sam realized what was happening, he was clutched tightly against Bumblebee's spark casing as he rose into his bipedal mode. Ratchet stood directly in front of them, while First Aid and an unknown Autobot stood a short distance away.
"Throttle down, Bumblebee." Ratchet ordered sharply, "You're holding him too tightly."
It was true, Sam realized. He could barely breathe from the force of Bumblebee's grip. At the medic's words, the hold around him gentled, and Bumblebee whistled at him apologetically.
"It's fine." Sam said, after he caught his breath. He glanced towards Ratchet, brushing against his mental presence, "Thanks for the assist earlier."
Mercifully, the klaxon wail of the proximity alarm was fainter in the medical bay. Sam glanced up at his bonded, who was looking at him with an intensity of expression that he understood all too well. He pressed his palm against Bumblebee's spark casing.
"I'm alright." He soothed, aware of the tension in Bumblebee's chassis, "I'm alright, Bee."
First Aid chirped concernedly, glancing at Ratchet.
"But he has radiation burns."
Sam's head jerked towards the medic before he looked down at himself in confusion, "What?"
"A sunburn." Ratchet clarified dryly, "You'll live, I'm sure."
Sam glanced down at himself again, and he realized that Ratchet was right. His arms were pink where he had rolled up his shirtsleeves.
"I think we have bigger issues." Sam said, before adding, "What the hell do they want?"
"They want to talk to Prime."
"What for?"
"I can hazard a guess." Ratchet replied, pinning him with a level look.
Sam frowned, anxiety blooming in the pit of his stomach.
"Will Optimus agree to it?"
"I have no idea." Ratchet said honestly, but his voice was sharper than normal, "It seems unlikely that Prime would refuse their request to speak on peaceful terms."
At the CMO's words, Bumblebee's mental presence darkened forebodingly. The naked animosity in his bonded's demeanor sent a shiver down Sam's spine. It was sometimes easy to forget that his best friend and bonded was also a soldier with a lifetime's worth of combat experience. First Aid glanced sidelong at Ratchet, his expression meaningful. The CMO looked back, nodding faintly.
All at once, Sam realized that the four of them were having a silent conversation.
"What is it?" He demanded sharply, "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing of consequence, Sam." Ratchet replied, before he gestured towards the familiar berth, "Bumblebee?"
Sam narrowed his eyes in response.
"Ratchet." He started, warningly, "I swear to God—"
Before Sam could finish his threat, however, the unknown mechanoid stepped towards him. He was bulky and broad shouldered, similar in frame type to Ratchet, but his plating was forest-green and gray.
"We haven't been formally introduced. My name is Hoist, it's nice to finally meet you."
Sam's voice trailed off in surprise. The medic's accent was distinctly British, his tone warm and friendly.
"Uh… hello to you too." He said, awkwardly, as Bumblebee placed him on the berth. The tips of his bonded's digits lingered on his back for a long moment before he withdrew.
"I asked Ratchet if I might assist with your care this afternoon." Hoist continued, "I would welcome the opportunity to get to know you, as I've been tasked as your secondary care provider."
Sam stared at him for a long moment, feeling terribly wrong-footed at the unexpected turn of conversation, "My what?"
"Your secondary care provider, in the unlikely instance that Ratchet is unable to respond during a medical emergency."
Sam glanced in Ratchet's direction in time to see the CMO transform into his alt mode. He frowned faintly, the feeling of anxiety sharpening in his stomach as Ratchet accelerated towards the hangar doors. He turned his attention inwards, reaching for the medic's mental presence. Ratchet brushed against him in response, patient and reassuring.
/I will be back shortly./
"Sam, if you would please?" Hoist asked, motioning towards the hospital gurney. A moment later, an unfamiliar holoform flickered into existence beside him. He was of a similar height to Sam, middle-aged with short brown hair that was peppered with gray. As with Ratchet's holoform, Hoist's was dressed in military fatigues with the insignia of the medical corps pinned to his shoulder. Unlike Ratchet's holoform, however, he also wore a white coat and had a stethoscope slung around his neck.
Sam looked at him uncertainly, before glancing up at Bumblebee. The scout whistled at him reassuringly, nodding towards the gurney. Unable to see an alternative, Sam climbed up onto the mattress, sitting with his legs hanging over the side of the bed. Hoist hummed approvingly, moving to reconnect the tubing to the cannula taped to the back of Sam's hand.
As Hoist turned to inspect the bag of saline hanging from the rack beside his bed, Sam realized just how efficiently he had been maneuvered.
Ratchet slowed to a stop inside of the command center before transforming into his bi-pedal mode. As soon as the last component slid into place, he strode towards the large conference table that dominated the center of the room. Ironhide stood at one end of the table, his arms crossed over his chassis and open irritation on his face. Kup and Ultra Magnus stood side by side at the other end of the table, their expressions similarly closed-off and inscrutable. Ratchet stopped beside the Weapon's Specialist, brushing against his electromagnetic field in greeting. The ping that he received a moment later was a wordless pulse of frustration and anger.
Prime and Prowl stepped up to the conference table as soon as Ratchet took his place at Ironhide's side. Before Prime could speak, however, Ultra Magnus ex-vented loudly.
"I don't like it."
Prime turned his helm to regard his City Commander, his optics narrowed in consideration.
"Nor do I, my friend." Optimus rumbled, "But I cannot in good conscience decline an offer for peaceful parlay."
"You saw the memory files, Prime. Megatron will never agree to a peace so long as we have Sam." Ironhide ground out, "This is a misdirection at best and an ambush at worst."
Optimus' mouthplates turned down, his expression contemplative.
"I am not convinced that the Seekers are here at Megatron's command. If he were to offer parlay, he would do so himself."
Prowl shuttered his optics, turning to regard their leader.
"Not necessarily. Neither Megatron nor Starscream came to deliver the message. It is unlikely to be a coincidence that the two Seekers with whom Sam formed an attachment are the ones to make contact."
Ultra Magnus rumbled lowly in his chassis, a sound of deep disquiet.
"Thundercracker, Skywarp, Ravage, Knock Out. He has formed many bonds with those who would claim to be his enemies."
Ratchet stiffened at the insinuation underlying the City Commander's words.
"What are you implying, Ultra Magnus?" He asked coldly.
Ultra Magnus leveled him with a pointed look, unflinching in the face of Ratchet's rising temper.
"I am implying nothing. I am speculating as to whether the boy was compromised."
Ratchet bristled in offense, "I would remind you that I have been in Sam's head every minute since he came through the ground bridge."
"Knock Out tortured him for two years, and that boy stepped into his cell without a flicker of fear or uncertainty in his field."
"That 'boy' is a ward of Cybertron and a Prime. Watch your tone." Ironhide growled.
Ultra Magnus' optics narrowed minutely.
"Your judgment is clouded because of your emotional attachment to him."
Ironhide scoffed loudly, "I have been accused of many things, Ultra Magnus, but being overly emotional is not one of them."
"Please, be at peace." Optimus rumbled, before directing a solemn and dignified look at Ultra Magnus, "I am certain that Sam has not been compromised. The Creator bond and spark bond notwithstanding, he is faithful to a fault. Disloyalty is not in his programming."
"That may be so, but it piques my concern that his rescue was so easy—and now, Thundercracker and Skywarp have come to request parlay? Can you be certain that his rescue was not orchestrated for this very purpose?"
"You've seen their memory files, you know that it was not." Ratchet growled.
"Memory files can be altered or deleted."
"Not two years' worth and not for all three mechanoids."
Rather than reply to him, Ultra Magnus turned towards Prime.
"I am your City Commander. It is my duty to protect the 5500 humans who are stationed on this base, including Sam himself. I believe that accepting the Decepticon's request will only pose a risk to the humans and to ourselves."
Optimus inclined his helm a fraction of an inch, "Your objection is so noted."
Ultra Magnus ex-vented again, his agitation and displeasure obvious in his electromagnetic fields.
"As you say, Prime."
Their leader looked slowly around the table, "If there is a chance, no matter how insignificant, that our agreement to parlay leads to peace, I must try. We can minimize the risks to the island with careful planning."
"Megatron is not coming within a thousand kilometers of him." Ratchet said, voice tight.
Optimus rumbled lowly, his optics narrowing in carefully controlled emotion.
"No. He is not."
"If you insist on following through with this processor-glitch of an idea, then there will have to be concessions." Kup cut in, speaking for the first time since Ratchet had entered the command center.
"I agree. I have instructed Thundercracker that we will transmit our response within the cycle. That gives us ample time to strategize."
Prowl stepped up to the large table and a three-dimensional projection of the island flickered to life. As the second-in-command began to speak about troop positioning and tactical advantages of terrain, Ratchet reached towards Sam's signature, which glowed softly at him from across their bond. There was a start of surprise and exasperation as he made contact, but before Sam could say a word, Ratchet tucked him close to his spark. As he turned his attention back towards the briefing, the steady thrum of Sam's presence served to soothe the stark concern pinging through his processors.