Finding Home
Chapter 27
By Voodoo Queen
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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! Sorry, I'm running super late on the update this time. I tried to make it up to you guys in length. Kind of dark at the beginning of the chapter but necessary to further our plot. A sign of things to come, maybe? Perhaps... At any rate, I'm happy to have you all along for the ride. Thank you everyone who has added this story to their faves and alerts. Extra special thanks to those who have taken time to leave a review: DaLadyofSouls, ElleGirl19, Tonythecool, MysticFire101, YaoiPrincess12, Stickaroo, KayleeChiara, Autobot-Bre-Lightblast, Chippr, Annie, sakurawriter, 0Colossal Cupcake0, adelphe24, Songbird's Spirit, Pixiekatt, Watto not, Delphine Pryde, HenriettaDarlington
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.
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The mech lurched, confused and uncoordinated, operating on only the basest of systems. Who was he? Where was he? How had he come to be? Pain fired continually along immature neural synapses, further confounding an already agonizing experience. Optics flickered a sickly orange-yellow, unable to properly focus on the darkened surroundings. Fear layered over top of disorientation. Fight or flight protocols activated. His processor, glitched as it was, demanded he flee and save himself.
One shuffling step. Two shuffling steps.
Faltering, unbalanced.
Falling.
The impact with the cold, concrete floor was jarring, sending white-hot lashes of agony along his prone form. Escape...must escape. This place..it was...wrong, dangerous. Warnings flashed in front of unfocused optics. Systems were malfunctioning,, threatening to send him into stasis. It was tempting, to succumb to the darkness that pressed at the edges of his wavering vision, to let the pain carry him into oblivion, but the need for self-preservation would not allow it. Metal fingers scraped against the floor, scrabbling for purchase as he dragged himself along. Inch by excruciating inch. Not fast enough.
The sound of laughter reached his audio receptors. They glitched, causing the sound to echo ominously inside of his head. Over and over the sound looped. Louder. Faster. Over and over again until it was a continuous cacophony of noise. He swallowed a scream, gritting his denta together in a rictus grin and slammed his shaking hands down over his audios. Everything in him was screaming at him to run, to flee, to save himself. He redoubled his efforts.
A great weight suddenly descended upon his back crushing his chassis into the floor. The meager, would-be spark housed inside of his chest cavity stuttered, threatening to extinguish under the intensity of the pain that swamped his receptors. He couldn't even cry out, only writhe in anguish as the weight ground down, compressing his spinal struts and driving him into the ground. He wanted to offline but couldn't.
Why?
His processor demanded an answer as to what he had ever done to deserve this torment.
Why? Why? Why?
"What is your function?" A voice demanded, harsh and uncaring, devoid of all sympathy.
The mech opened his mouth. He couldn't process straight, not with the pain threatening to split his head wide open. He made a garbled sound, his optics closing tightly and causing cleansing fluid to leak down his faceplates. That wasn't the answer the voice was looking for. The weight pressed down harder. His spark felt as though it would burst beneath the stress placed on his frame.
The voice, losing patience, demanded again, "What is your function?"
The mech flailed, trying to gain enough traction, leverage, something...anything to get away. It was a futile action. The laughter came again, callous and unaffected by his suffering. Hoping for some kind of relief, he stuttered out in a weak, gravelly voice, "I-I s-serve..."
"Who?" The voice demanded. "Who do you serve?"
"I-I ser-r-r-ve..." His vision was darkening, becoming a dark tunnel with only a flicker of dingy light at the end of it. His spark flared painfully once, then twice, before dying back down to barely an ember. "I-I-I s-s-ser-r-rve Me-Meg-Mega...tron..."
The voice cursed as the mech's eyes suddenly went dark, it's faceplates hitting the floor with a sickening crunch as it went slack.
"Useless," the voice seethed. "Just like everything else around here."
"It must be frustrating," a new voice mused, "having everything you touch turn into a festering pile of slag."
"Barricade," Starscream growled, kicking the lifeless body at his feet. "I'm certain you would know all about that, wouldn't you?"
The black and white mech snorted, pushing off the wall where he'd been observing the Decepticon SIC's efforts, and approached the other mech. He rumbled darkly, toeing the empty shell on the ground and causing it to flop limply. "So this is a sample of the great army you're creating for Megatron."
"No," Starscream spat. "This is a waste of my time and talent! Our illustrious leader demands an army." The Seeker ranted on, "He has no concept of science, no appreciation for the time and skill it would take to carry out a feat like this properly!"
Barricade hummed, "Yet the Science Division had no problems utilizing this method to produce extra bodies to work the energon mines. Perhaps you're just incompetent."
"I'd be offended if you weren't such a dim spark, Cade." Starscream sneered, "The Science Division had their program shut down by the Council for reasons you just witnessed. Those that survived the incubation process were little better than drones. I suppose that's acceptable if all you're doing is digging energon up out of the ground, but war fighting? That takes some actual processing power. Then again," he leveled a condescending look at the mech, "You've survived this long, haven't you? Now, what do you want?"
Barricade narrowed his optics, "How did you manage to spark him?"
"Aren't we curious today?" Starscream vented, "Why do you want to know?"
"I don't." Barricade shrugged. "I don't really care in all honestly. I'm not the one that's going to get the scrap stomped out of me when this mighty army fails to materialize."
The Seeker made an indignant sound. "The only one getting the scrap stomped out of them is you if you continue to speak to me in such a manner! I'm your superior! You need to learn your place!" He lashed out at the fallen mech, kicking the lifeless frame with enough force to send it sliding across the floor to collide with the smelter. He seemed to gather his composure a moment before continuing. "If you must know, however, I used this."
Barricade watched as the mech pulled something out of sub space and held it pinched between his talon-like fingers. In the dim light of the room, he had to step closer to see it properly. He squinted his optics as he considered the small, twisted, gray piece of metal. It was only about the size of what the humans called a 'baseball' and appeared burned and twisted as though it had been exposed to extreme heat before being rapidly cooled. His olfactory receptors picked up the slightest scent of ozone. He shook his head, stepping back.
Curious now, the interceptor asked, "What the frag is that?"
"A piece of Megatron's chassis." An almost-giddy gleam entered Starscream's optics. "It was a piece that was blown off in Mission City when the Witwicky boy shoved the Allspark into his chest. When the energy from the Cube combined with Megatron's spark it created a mini fission reaction. Atoms from the Cube split and recombined with some of Megatron's own spark energy. The residual contained in this piece of scrap when combined with a concentrated electrical current has allowed me to recreate the sparking process minus the presence of a willing creator."
If Barricade could have gone pale, he would have. "Megatron's spark energy..."
"It provides a modicum of stability in an otherwise unstable reaction." The SIC stated as-a-matter-of-factly. "It helps to bind the free radicals. Though there isn't much I can do about the extreme energy degradation rate with the tools I have on hand. They tend to...burn out fast."
Barricade's optics strayed to the crumpled body laying next to the smelter. "But that would make them..."
"His sparklings?" Starscream grinned maniacally. "I suppose...in a manner of speaking. I can't begin to tell you how satisfying it is to toss them in the vat and watch them melt. Rather poetic, don't you think?"
"Does he know how you're doing this?"
"Do you think he cares how it's being done?" Starscream smirked, "Come now, Cade, even you aren't that naive. In absence of a viable alternative, he'd rip the sparks out of his own creators to get what he wants. You should know that."
Barricade mulled this information over for a moment. As much as he disliked Starscream, he couldn't really argue with the Seeker. Their leader was, in all honestly, just insane enough to go along with an atrocity such as this if it furthered his goal of destroying the Autobots and putting an end to Optimus Prime. That thought brought him back to the reason he had sought out the SIC in the first place.
The interceptor cleared his vocal processor as he pulled a data pad out of sub space and passed it to the other mech. "If it matters, I may have some information regarding your...viable alternative."
"Mmm..." Starscream hummed thoughtfully as he scrolled through the data. "This may just hold some promise. You may not be as useless as I've come to believe, Barricade." A smirk twisted his mouth. "Now prove it and help me throw this one into the smelter."
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It felt as though a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. That's really the only way Amy could explain the way she'd felt over the last couple days. For the first time since she'd set foot on Diego Garcia, she felt clear-headed and in control of her faculties. She could focus and think of something other than the perpetual strangeness that seemed to have taken over her life. It was amazing to her what a huge difference the subtle shift in her life had made. Maybe it was the satisfaction of knowing she wasn't simply going crazy or the fact that, honestly, she didn't quite feel so alone as she had her entire life but, exhaustion and lack of sleep aside, she was guardedly optimistic.
Of course, it wasn't all rainbows and sunshine. She hadn't really had much time with the twins since they'd come to an agreement to cautiously explore whatever it was that had developed between them. They'd snuck a few minutes together here and there but duty had to come first. There'd been no noise from the Decepticons but that only served to make the entire base tense and anxious. That said, everyone had begun doubling down on training and combat drills, including the Autobots, just in case the enemy did decide to rear their ugly heads. They were smack dab in the middle of a war, after all. Being military herself, Amy understood but it didn't mean she had to like it.
The twins had voiced similar sentiments but had still managed to find ways to exert their presence.
She wasn't sure if it was a cultural thing or what but it seemed that the pair were rather fixated on proving that they were capable of 'providing for her needs' or something like that. Over the last couple days, it wasn't unusual for her to come back to her desk to find assorted odds and ends left there for her. Little things that she had only casually mentioned in passing that she wouldn't even remember until they were sitting in front of her. New pens. A bottle of her favorite soda. Flowers...she wished she knew where they had managed to scrounge up irises on the island. No one had ever given her flowers before. She had to admit, they were beautiful. She also wasn't sure which one had noticed her fondness for chewy chocolate chip granola bars but she'd returned from dropping off the 8 o'clock report to find an entire case of them sitting on her desk.
Jazz had been at his desk, feet kicked up, working on recalibrating some of Teletraan's telemetry settings. One look at her confusion and the mech had chuckled. "I'll tell ya one thing, D," he'd quipped, "I'd never have pegged those two as bein' the old fashioned type."
Amy had mock glared at him, taking his good-natured teasing with a grain of salt. "Old fashioned?"
"Yeah," Jazz grinned. "You know, tryin' to woo their lady love with tokens of their affection." He waggled his brows suggestively. "Is it workin'? Are ya feelin' wooed?"
Amy tried to remain stern looking and failed. She burst out laughing, "You're horrible! You are so not helping this situation at all."
"Sure I am," Jazz turned in his chair to look at her and asked, "Do you have a puppy?"
"What?" Amy looked at the mech, confused. She shook her head, "Uh, no..."
"Exactly! See? I'm helping!" The TIC pushed away from his desk and carefully stood, stretching out his limbs as best he could. In a more thoughtful tone he added, "Seriously, D, all kidding aside, I've never seen those two put this much effort into anything before, not even slaggin' the Decepticons. I'm not gonna lie," he continued, "I have my concerns but I have to give credit where it's due. They're really tryin' hard. It's...surprising."
"Really?" Amy wondered, "Surprising how?"
"Just surprising." Jazz chuckled, "What can I say? I've known them a long time, D. Anyway," the mech shrugged, "I'm gonna head on over to that meeting with Prime and Prowler. They want to discuss the logistics of putting a secure storage unit down here."
Amy let his mysterious analysis of the twins slide, focusing on work instead. "Like a safe?"
Jazz clarified. "More like...a containment unit."
"That sounds ominous."
"Not so much," Jazz shot her a crooked grin. "I'll fill you in on all the details when I get back."
"Yeah," Amy nodded and smiled back at the mech, "Okay."
Jazz gave her one final wink as he headed to the door, "Call me if ya need me, scraplet."
"Will do," Amy agreed.
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Amy sat at her desk, furiously pounding away at her keyboard as she updated tactical information according to Teletraan's latest satellite sweeps. A quick check of her watch told her that Jazz's meeting had run long. No biggie. It happened sometimes. She wasn't too worried. She had plenty work to keep her busy and that was how she liked it. She was nearly finished with her current task and just about to move on to the next item in her to-do list when the phone on her desk rang. Barely even pausing from her work, she reached for the device and pressed it to her ear.
"Combat Information Center, Petty Officer Doe speaking. How may I help you?"
"Hey, D!"
"Boss," Amy smiled, pushing herself away from her computer. "What's up? Do I need to send out a search party or what?"[
"Nah," The mech chuckled, "Just got caught up with Prowler and all his charts. Are you busy?"
"I'm almost finished updating the boards," Amy informed. "I was going to do a sector sweep and update the maps before I went to lunch."
"Do that later," the TIC insisted. "Come on up to the main hangar. There's someone here I'd like you to meet before he gets dragged off into Prowl's office for debrief or disappears into the med bay never to be seen or heard from again."
"Oh," Amy sat up straight in her chair. "Uh, sure. I'll be right up."
"Great," the mech's smile could be heard in his voice. "I'll see you in a few."
The line went dead in Amy's ear. She sat there for a moment chewing her bottom lip, wondering who Jazz could possibly want her to meet. Meeting someone new always caused a flare of anxiety in her, a byproduct of the way she grew up, she supposed. Jazz seemed pretty nonchalant about it, though, happy even, and if this mystery person was cool with him she figured she didn't have too much to be anxious about. She shrugged to herself and pushed away from her desk. Standing, she followed Jazz's earlier example and stretched, relishing the sensations as her spine snapped and popped back into alignment. Grabbing her cover, she made her way out of the bunker and headed back above ground.
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The main hangar was, for all intents and purposes, empty when she arrived. Save, that is, for the military and DoD personnel that scurried about. Even Lennox was absent from his usual perch up on the catwalk. Amy's brows scrunched together in confusion. Hadn't Jazz told her the main hangar? She second guessed herself. Maybe he'd meant the hangar where the Autobots had taken up residence? Perhaps the one that housed the med bay and Prime's office? She took a quick glance at her watch and wondered whether or not she should try to book it to one of the other locales. Sure, she could have called the mech to confirm but of course in her haste she'd left her cell sitting snugly in her desk drawer.
"Good job, Amy," she sighed. "Keep it up."
"Are you Petty Officer Doe?" A carefully-coiffed head of glossy, red hair suddenly popped up over a partition that separated the hangar proper from a bank of individual computer stations that monitored radar output and communication channels. The bright red hair was followed by a pair of baby blue eyes, framed by stylish purple, cat-eye glasses. The woman's full, red lips parted slightly as she stared at Doe with something akin to awe.
Amy had started a bit at the other woman's sudden appearance. "I...I'm sorry?"
"No," the woman blinked and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Macy." The woman extended a hand over the partition. "Macy Harmon. I'm a tech analyst working for the DoD. Are you Petty Officer Doe?"
"Uh, hi." Not wanting to be rude, Amy shook the woman's hand. "Yes, I'm OS2 Doe."
"So nice to meet you." The woman, Macy, smiled widely. "I just wanted to let you know that Jazz called ahead to say that he's running a little behind but he'll be here as soon as he can. He said for you to just hang out till he got here."
"Oh," Amy gave a small sigh of relief. "Thanks, I appreciate you letting me know."
"No problem." Then, in a breathy voice the woman added, "You're so lucky. You must love your job...getting to work so closely with the aliens."
"Sure," Amy honestly answered, though she'd long stopped thinking of them as alien. They were people. Large metal people, who were a bit weird at times, but people nonetheless. "It's...very interesting to say the least."
The woman continued. "They're so...amazing. I bet Jazz is a dream to work with, isn't he? He just seems so...suave."
"Suave?" Amy shifted a bit uncomfortably at the tone she'd taken on. This woman was, well, she was beginning to sound a little strange. "He's...a really nice guy. Great boss..."
"I bet." The woman flushed and began to fan herself with her hand, "I'd polish his chrome anytime."
Amy nearly choked, "Excuse me?"
"Oh!" Macy exclaimed, completely ignoring the other woman's discomfort at the unexpected turn the conversation had taken. "Have you met the scout yet?" She squealed, "Adorable! I could just eat him up. And Prime," she shivered, "That voice alone could turn me into a quivering puddle of goo..."
"Well, then," Amy gave a nervous chuckle, looking around herself for some legitimate route of escape. "I...suppose he does have a really nice voice. It suits him at any rate...Uh..."
Just then, the doors at the far end of the hangar began to roll open in their tracks. The sun was bright outside, making it difficult to distinguish anything other than the silhouettes of those entering. Fortunately, those were in the unmistakable shape of Cybertronians.
"Thank you, Jesus," Amy muttered as she racked her brain for a way to excuse herself.
"Just look at them," The woman, Macy, sighed, propping her chin up in one hand and gazing dreamily across the hanger where the bots were coming in at.
They were far enough out of the sun's glare now that Amy could easily see Prowl and Jazz were leading the pack. They were being followed by the twins who seemed to be engaged in a friendly conversation with a mech she wasn't familiar with. Her heart did a funny, little flip at seeing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and the energy in her chest heated pleasantly. A soft smile pulled at her mouth. "Yeah," she conceded. "They're something, aren't they?"
"Did you know," the woman whispered conspiratorially, "that those two are brothers? Twins, actually."
Amy's smile morphed into a closely guarded look. "Yes," she cautiously acknowledged, "I did know that, actually."
"I mean," the woman giggled, "I know they're alien robots but, you have to admit, they're well-built." She sighed, "Those shoulders...and have you seen their backsides? I'd gladly go for a ride with either one of them...if you know what I mean."
"What?" Amy's head whipped around to glare at the woman. The warmth in her chest flared hot, uncomfortably so, and a feeling of...well...she didn't really even know what to call it...seemed to originate from the center of her being. It wasn't jealousy, not really. It wasn't so much even possessiveness. It was an almost territorial feeling that was hard for her to even pin down. She wasn't even sure where it was coming from. It certainly wasn't coming from any conscious part of her self that she was aware of. She clenched her teeth together in an attempt to hold her tongue, schooling her face into a look of professional disappointment. The woman must have noticed and realized her comments were beyond what was deemed acceptable in their current setting.
Macy paled, shrinking back behind the partition slightly. "I'm sorry," she quickly uttered. "That...that wasn't appropriate was it? I'm so sorry..."
"This is a military base, Ms. Harmon." Amy used her no-nonsense superior enlisted ranking voice on the woman. "It isn't 'Fantasy Island'. It probably isn't a good idea to go around telling people that you don't even know that the sound of an alien faction leader's voice turns you into jello. There's people wandering around in here from way up in the government food chain. If I were you I'd be careful who I let hear me talking like that."
"You're right," the woman swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Hey, D!"
Amy turned to see Jazz beckoning her from across the hangar where the bots had gathered near the catwalk. She waved back, letting him know she'd only be a moment. She turned back to the woman, calmer now, and flashed her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I have to go. It was...nice meeting you."
"Yeah," the woman nodded, looking chastised and more than a little embarrassed. "You, too."
Amy turned on her heel and took off in the direction of the mechs, thankful to escape the strange conversation. She noted that the twins and their mysterious comrade had hung back near the catwalk, still engaged in their conversation, but the pair had definitely taken note of her approach. Sunstreaker had an amused, not-quite-smile, on his face as he watched her get closer. Sideswipe, always the charmer, grinned and winked at her. The unknown mech, who seemed to be observing her with wide, curious eyes, surprised her by raising his hand in a friendly wave. Amy, not knowing what else to do, waved back at him and gave the twins a nod of acknowledgement as she came to a halt in the center of the hangar to speak with Prowl and Jazz.
"Hey," she smiled up at the SIC and TIC. "How'd the meeting go? Get everything hashed out?"
"Maybe," Jazz gazed down on the woman warmly. "You're not too attached to the rear storeroom, are you?"
"Nope," Amy shook her head. "Not at all."
"Then, yes." Jazz elbowed the mech next to him. "You heard the lady, Prowler, it's all your's."
Prowl nodded, "I'll have the engineers come down and take a look later this afternoon so we can start ordering materials for the containment unit."
"Uh," Amy raised her hand like a kid in school waiting to be called on by a teacher. "Question."
"Answer," Prowl stated, the corner of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly. "Ask away."
"What are we, eh, containing exactly?"
"Ah," the mech nodded. "Yes, Jazz was telling me he hadn't had a chance to brief you yet. This all came up rather suddenly." He looked to the other mech and received a nod to continue. "How well versed are you on the history of our conflict with the Decepticons?"
"Not very," Amy answered honestly. "It's never come up in conversation."
"That's understandable. A quick lesson, then." Prowl began, "At one time, the Autobots were in possession of an artifact called the Allspark. It possessed certain...properties...that we believed could be used to heal our planet from the toll our war had taken on it. The Decepticons, however, wanted to harness those same properties in order to expand their army and grow their empire. Optimus had it jettisoned into space to prevent that from happening. It drifted and eventually ended up here on Earth."
"And so did you guys," Amy finished. "So, you found it right? That's what we're locking up downstairs?"
"Not exactly," Prowl frowned. "Your government came across it some time before Optimus and his expedition arrived. While we were eventually able to regain possession of the artifact, it ended up being destroyed during the Mission City incident."
"I'm sorry I missed that," Jazz mused. "Woulda loved to see Meg's face when it got shoved into his chest cavity but I was too busy tryin' not to permanently offline."
Prowl shot the mech a look that clearly said he wasn't amused by recalling the mech's near-death experience.
Amy shook her head. "I'm sorry. That must have been a huge blow. I mean, if you could have used it to fix your planet..."
"It was," Prowl agreed. "But Prime felt it was a necessary sacrifice and I'm inclined to agree. The alternative, for your planet to meet the same fate as ours, is unacceptable. It seems, however," he continued, "that a small piece of it was found intact. It's not nearly as powerful as once was but certainly enough so that we're concerned about it falling into the wrong hands given that Megatron is still very much alive. That, Miss Doe, is what we're containing. Question answered?"
"Yes," Amy smiled softly. "Thank you."
"My pleasure. I'm sure Jazz won't mind filling you in the details I've omitted. Oh, and before I forget," Prowl looked down on the woman, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. "I wanted to thank you, as well."
"Me?" Amy pointed at herself, confused. "What for? What did I do?"
The mech's doorwings shifted in amusement. "It appears that Advisor Galloway has located his missing property."
Amy's eyes widened in surprise. "He has?"
"Indeed," the SIC confirmed. "Strangely enough, he returned to his stateroom the evening after you and I had our brief discussion to find it sitting on his bed." His optic twitched. "Gift wrapped, bow and all."
"Gift..." Amy shook her head. "Gift wrapped?"
"Yes."
"Well..." Amy wasn't even sure what to say. She was fighting the urge to simply turn around and ask her twins how they managed such a feat but managed to control herself...if only barely. "That's...that's good news, I guess. But," she insisted, "like I told you before, it doesn't have anything to do with me."
"I'm sure it doesn't." The mech cut his optics over to where the twins were loitering before looking back down at the woman and giving her a knowing look. "Thank you, regardless. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have a meeting with Prime to get to. Have a pleasant day."
"See ya, Prowler!" Jazz looked thoughtful as he watched the other mech leave. Then to Amy, "Come on, scraplet."
Amy turned to follow as the TIC limped his way back toward the trio of mechs hanging out by the catwalk.
"Squishie," Sunstreaker greeted the woman as she drew close.
"Ames!" Sideswipe grinned widely, "Did you find the present we left you?"
"I did," Amy chuckled. "Thank you. It going to take me a while to eat all ninety-six of them."
"Well, there's plenty more where that came from," the mech assured. "Let us know when you run out."
Jazz shook his head in amusement. He nudged the woman. "Hey, D, I want you to meet Bumblebee. Bee, this is OS2 Amy Doe. I had her pulled from her previous command for the Operations billet."
Amy pulled her attention from the twins to take in the scout. She supposed Crazy-Macy was right...he was pretty adorable with his large, expressive optics which more than made up for the fact he was lacking the oral components his peers possessed. Briefly, she wondered how she had come to a place in which she could look at a giant robot and declare it cute. Then again, she also had to remind herself that she was essentially being courted by a pair of them which, she reluctantly admitted, she was beginning to consider quite handsome in their own way.
Life was surreal.
She recalled the twins mentioning that he was a 'youngling'. She hadn't asked but in her mind she had equated that with a human teenager but, what did she know? Robot teenager or no, she reminded herself that he was still many, many lifetimes older than she was. A staggering thought, that was. She tried not to dwell on it. Instead, she smiled up at him brightly, "Nice to finally meet you, Bumblebee. I've heard a lot of great things about you."
The mech's optics crinkled. If he had a proper mouth, he would have been smiling. A burst of static came from his vocalizer followed by a mashup of different voices ripped from music and television. "Always nice...to meet a...friendly...face."
"His vocal processor was damaged," Jazz explained to the confused woman. "Ratchet's been tryin' to fix it as time permits but, as you can see," the mech chuckled, "he's already found a way around the problem."
"Oh," Amy frowned. "I'm sorry that happened to you."
Bee shrugged, a 'what can you do' type gesture as a recorded clip announced, "It's all good in the hood..."
Jazz continued, "He's been actin' as a guardian for the kid that helped us out when we arrived but he has some kind of school trip thing and won't be around for a couple weeks so Bee's gonna be helpin' us out around here till he gets back."
"Nice...to...be home...for...a while," the Scout played.
"I can only imagine." Sunstreaker snorted, "Like Pit I would stay in some fleshy's garage and chauffeur them around on demand."
Bee looked from the human woman to Sunny skeptically and made a soft whirring sound.
Sunstreaker growled, "That's a completely different situation and you know it."
Bumblebee merely shook his head and rolled his optics.
"Well, don't get too comfortable just yet," Jazz warned. "The Allspark shard is currently being held in a secure facility until we can send a team to pick it up. Optimus, Prowl and I have discussed it and have decided to send you three along with Ironhide to transport it back here. We don't have any reason to expect any trouble but we want to err on the side of caution."
Sides inquired, "Where is this shard being kept, exactly?"
"The United States Bullion Depository."
"Fort Knox, Kentucky," Amy supplied. "That makes sense. That place is locked down like a fortress."
Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest, looking slightly perplexed about the arrangement. "When are we leaving and how long are we going to be gone?"
Jazz nodded, understanding his foremost concern even if he didn't voice it. "As soon as we can get transportation arranged. We're shootin' for tomorrow mornin'. If everythin' goes smooth, you should be back in two or three days, four at the tops."
"Fragging great," Sunstreaker vented and looked to his brother who looked just as bothered.
"Jazz," the silver twin reasoned. "You know us, we're down for the cause but...our circumstances have kind of changed. There are other factors we need to think about before we go traipsing off to the other side of the planet."
"And we've taken all of that into consideration," Jazz assured. "Given the low risk of the mission and the fast turnaround time, we don't feel it's an unreasonable assignment. She'll be fine while you're gone. I'll see to it personally."
"Whoa," Amy's eyes widened. "I sincerely hope you guys aren't talking about me. Because if you are, I'd like to remind you that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I've been doing it my entire life, long before I met any of you. Believe it or not, I've become pretty self-sufficient over the years."
"Ames," Sideswipe placated, "We don't doubt your ability to take care of yourself..."
"Good," Amy cut him off. "Then you two shouldn't have any problem going and doing your job."
Sides pouted, "Why do you have to sound so eager to get rid of us?"
Bumblebee made a chirp of amusement which earned him a hard glare from Sunny. Instead of being intimidated, it only served to tickle the mech even more. His shoulders shook in silent mirth. A warbling voice asked, "Can...we...keep her?"
Sunstreaker grunted and looked away, "That's the plan, apparently."
"Anyway," Jazz chuckled, "Imma go work on securing your ride and help Prowler round up the engineers. You've all got the rest of the day free to get yourselves squared to leave. You too, D." He winked at the woman, "Knock off for the day."
"But," Amy protested, "I haven't even updated the maps yet..."
"I'll take care of it. Trust me," the TIC insisted, "You're gonna want this time."
Amy's face scrunched in confusion. "Oh...okay. Are you sure?"
"Positive," Jazz smiled. "And Bee, Ratchet would like to take a look at you sometime this morning. I suggest just goin' and gettin' it over with. Don't want the doc bot trackin' ya down...believe me."
The scout's face fell. He made a sad, keening sound and brought one of his hands up to rub his throat nervously. After a couple seconds, he reluctantly nodded in agreement.
"Great," Jazz vented. "Now that that's all settled. Plan on mustering on the tarmac at 0600. If anything changes, I'll comm you and let you know."
The three mechs nodded in agreement and watched as Jazz slowly made his way across the hangar to his next destination.
Amy, however, chewed her lip worriedly. She'd meant what she said. She could take care of herself and certainly didn't want to be a distraction. That she'd apparently been a consideration in the planning of this particular mission sparked to life an ember of anxiety within her. She didn't want to hold the twins back from doing their jobs or be a hindrance to the campaign. Despite this, she reluctantly admitted to herself that the idea of them leaving her, even it was only for a few days, made her feel slightly off kilter.
"Well," Sideswipe clapped his hands together. "You all heard the mech. Let's get out of here." He turned to head back out the way they'd come in. "Come on, Ames."
Amy asked, "Where are we going?"
"Does it matter?" Sunstreaker shooed the woman along. "We don't have the time to be wasting it." Over his shoulder he called to the other mech, "You coming, Bee?"
The mech scrunched up his face and shook his head, a kissy sound coming from his speakers, as he threw his hands up in a 'no-thank-you' gesture that had the small femme's face burning scarlet in embarrassment. He pointed to his neck, "Going...to go...see...if...the doctor is in."
"Suit yourself," Sunny shrugged. "We'll see you in the morning then."
Bumblebee nodded and waved at Amy, "Hope to...talk...to you again...soon."
"Yeah," Amy answered once she'd found her voice. She smiled softly at the mech and waved back, "Me, too."
The scout gave a happy chirrup before folding himself up into the form of a shiny, yellow Camaro. As he drove out of the hangar, he honked his horn in farewell.
"Aww," Amy commented offhandedly, "He seems really sweet."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sideswipe rolled his optics. "We know, we know...everyone loves Bumblebee. He's cute and cuddly and all that slag."
She couldn't help but laugh at the mech.
"Now can we please go?" Sunny vented in impatience, "We'd like to actually get to spend some time with you before we have to leave in the morning."
"Fine," Amy snickered. "Lead the way."
As she followed her mechs from the hangar and chanced a glance back over her shoulder. The odd woman from before was in her chair, leaning around the partition, and watching their exchange with an almost envious look. The strange, quasi-territorial feeling from before bloomed in Amy's chest once again but this time it was accompanied by a small flicker of almost smug satisfaction. This would have concerned her had she not been so intent on getting out of there and actually having some quality time, albeit brief, with the twins. She'd take what she could get and try not to think about the morning.
End of Chapter 26
