Chapter 3 NASA Launchpad meeting
Author's Notes: Previously in Bay verse mayhem: Sam is being monitored by a mini Decepticon tracker on his wrist, electric shocking his arm muscle. The remaining Autobots have been ordered to leave the planet as Sentinel Prime and the Decepticons have betrayed them. NASA took an old Cybertronian ship, the Xantiam of the Wreckers and locked it into on a space shuttle booster rocket combo to maintain control over it. The morning of the launch everything appears in motion for exile.
Please set story alert as this fic will be updated as inspired. And I do not own Transformers. Sadly. Be so much more fun if I did. Please review and let me know what you think. I have plans to do a spin off fic on how the Autobots brought Ironhide and Wheeljack aka Que back but it's in progress, too many others currently posting.
And I apologize if the action bounces back and forth, but it works (hopefully). Onward to never really dying and having to explain how you did it rather than celebrate the fact you pulled it off.
"There is no plan."
Any other time and Sam Witwicky would have been gawking like the young geek he was. The buildings of NASA, high ranking government officials paying attention to him and the Autobots arriving shortly seemed like a dream. "It's a nightmare," he muttered, glaring down at the metal spikes spiraled around his wrist. "Security thinks it's a bracelet. Like ya, I wear metal spiky things that should set off the energon detectors but nope. Still stuck on."
Up ahead, Seymour Simmons rolled after the woman in the suit. Her name escaped Sam other than his profanity filled nickname for her. He blamed most of the current mess on his girlfriend's Con aft kissing boss Dylan and the rest on the suited lady. Her assigned position over the Autobots and not with them had created a situation that infuriated even the patient Prime. And left Sam with the threat of prison for life for treason if he breathed a word of what he knew.
"I will rip your heart out," Charlotte Mearing threatened, leaning in close to Simmons.
"You already did," he retorted, feisty as ever in the wheelchair and cast bound leg.
"Mine too," Sam sighed, seeing echoes of him and Mikaela. The current love Carly was sophisticated, smart and the girl he had dreamed of talking to as a teenager. Now his talking could save her, if he betrayed the Autobots.
"No dignity here fleshy! Centuries old and you handle us like rats in a cage!" Metal rattling sounds had him turning, his attention focusing on the caged mini bots. Brains and Wheelie stared back at him. "Don't let them take us Sam. It's a Decepticon trap."
Words of understanding and acknowledgement remained unspoken on the human's lips. The wrist drone recorded everything, and any acknowledgement could cost him and Carly. Wheelie reached out pleading as they were carried by, guilt hitting Sam.
"Don't let them take us."
Take? He was powerless to save. The car dealer had taken four thousand dollars in exchange for a yellow and black striped aged Camaro turning his life upside down. Sector Seven took his family and Mikaela. Then they took Bumblebee from him. The Decepticons took the shard to revitalize Megatron, the very mech Jazz had sacrificed himself to block. His chance to start over, to build his life in college taken by a worldwide broadcast while hiding from everyone. The Fallen took the Matrix to destroy the sun and nearly cost him and Prime their lives. Take? Sam's existence with the Autobots had been nothing but taking.
He wanted to take them all away somewhere safe, to hide and forget about what bound them together in fate or destiny or whatever twisted plan the ancient primes watched over. Instead, he trudged towards the waiting SUV, white in color and one of several parked neatly in a row, contrasting men in black suits with dark glasses and large handguns waiting by each one. The enforced escort to the launchpad itself.
"The Autobots are here," a man's voice called out, every monitor showing the Autobot cavalcade rolling up to the main gates.
"The Autobots are gone."
The hushed announcer's words bouncing through Sam's mind, the sheer shock of the disaster literally stopping time for him. The burning pieces fell, Starscream triumphant soaring arc unnoticed as the Seeker climbed back to a sub earth orbit. The first rocket booster from Discovery splashed down, sinking and disappearing under the waves of the ocean as designed. The burning, tumbling second stage boosters fell before the shattered wreckage of the Xantiam. The Discovery shuttle tumbled out of control; the underside shredded apart in the attack. Pain ripped through Sam, grief at the loss of Prime. Not the proper funeral pyre of a great warrior but chased out and rejected like a cur mutt, no kind words for all he had sacrificed among his own kind to keep earth safe. "We were already too late." Optimus words echoed through Sam, the launchpad discussion forgotten.
Locked inside the first booster rocket falling and spinning, Ratchet's grip on Optimus arm plating tightened to painful levels as their internal systems struggled with what they were feeling but unable to see. Optimus magnetized his back against the alien metal, keeping Bumblebee tightly wrapped in his arms and next to his spark. The Matrix of Leadership hummed under his chest plates, adding power as Bumblebee shivered. The confined space setting off the yellow mech's personal nightmares of being tortured by Megatron and unable to move. Ratchet stood at Bumblebee's back, his green yellow armored arms wrapping around him to Prime. Ironhide should have been there instead, his large arm cannons wedging them tight in a family embrace.
No comforting words could be spoken and heard over the terrific screeching and whistling as their booster rocket descended. Internal communications were forbidden lest the Decepticons somehow register it. There could be no warning, no chance of detection if their plan was to succeed. The Autobots were still targets until they reached dry land, Starscream's rockets a moment before an apt demonstration of the danger they faced. Optimus reached the only way he could, as their Prime. Startled blue optics up and down the booster flared, feeling his love and reassurance through their command link. Their emotions flowed back, mixing into strong resolve and a need for vengeance. Ratchet started first, the soft bass hum that was their deepest call. A melody without words and powerful, easing the fussiest sparkling with its rhythm. The Wreckers added their vocal tones as the higher pitched Wheelie overlapped. Que's tenor offset the mid-range of Sideswipe as they wove their tones in. The shivering stopped as their youngest heard them, pulled back into current reality among his treasured own kind.
Back at NASA, Sam stomped at the drone unlatched and fleeing, angrily watching it slither into the metal grating and slink away. Blinking, he realized the glyphs were back. The ancient Cybertronian symbols the Allspark shard had dropped in his brain overlaid the sky. 'Bravest'' and 'Faith' floated in the air before him. "Really? Now you show me. What? Haven't I suffered enough? To live the rest of my life knowing I failed! I brought Optimus back for what? To be slagged!"
The symbols changed, brightening into 'Guardian' and 'One.' The further glyph not meaning a first starting number but the end. The final remaining culmination of an event or time.
"Guardian?" Sam sputtered, twitching and nearly falling over. "Bee is gone! Never coming back! Not out of sight in my garage or off the college property but gone!" Crumpling, he slid to the metal floor plating with tears sliding down his cheeks.
Optimus groaned, the back and forth motion as their container descended to the sea floor offsetting him faster than his compensators could reset. The flight tech from Jetfire remained offline least the power signal flare on scanners, unable to help. His trailer filled the bottom fourth of the booster, willing discarded in a micro breem if other Autobots had needed the space to hide. 'Thank Primus I sent Arcee, the minor twins and others off world already to meet with Magnus.' Below his blue feet pads, the Wreckers were stacked upon each other with Wheelie and Brains clinging to arm plating. Above him, Optimus tilted up to see Sideswipe bracing Que, the inventor's previously blast damage affecting his balance systems as well. Energon surged in his lines and Optimus vented deep while focusing on the song tones echoing in the confined space to reassure. 'Process on anything. No purging in here. The energon must stay in my lines and down. Focus and remember.' Memory files flash back to our arrival.
The entrance gates of NASA's landing field swings wide as our convoy approaches, more symbolic than defensive as the weakest of us can roll through the fragile metals. Bumblebee leads the way as Scout and the one mech most likely to lag, Sideswipe following to guard him and his bright red color a focus for Que. Our inventor can be easily distracted by the tech of the humans and needs a point to lock onto, even if the rear bumper of a teammate. The Wreckers are midline, ready to disburse any direction on the slightest sighting on a Decepticon attack. One to the front to help Bumblebee and Sideswipe, two to the rear to protect their medic and me as Prime. We drive down the yellow double line, taking up the center of the road in another defiance of the humans' rules. I tow my trailer, the transforming edges sealed against any moisture. The heavier weight barely registered against the heaviness of my spark. We are all gambling on a single decision of mine. A plan made years before on the day the Xantiam arrived carrying more Autobots. My trailer a bonus as all our spare supplies, weaponry and gear hide inside. Whichever bot survives can access it. I pray silently it will be all of us. I do not know if I can handle another loss.
The helicopters overhead and the armored vehicles before and surrounding us are an irritation. A show of supposed human enforced strength that I allow. The government demands falling on closed audios. The Matrix of Leadership and flight tech trailer are mine. As are the two spark shards nestled in among shell casings, their energy signature masked and unknown to the humans, even Sam and Will Lennox. Backing my trailer in under the rocket tubes, my sensors register the convoy of white SUV's approaching, Sam and Simmons inside. Leadfoot and Roadbuster grab my trailer to wrap it in force fields, sliding it on end and up onto the lift, grumbling to themselves about having to angle it in and down into the space once inside. Topspin transformed the instant I had, taking the vows to guard a Prime seriously. The long sword carried openly on his backplates erases any doubts. Another defiance of human rules banning any of our weapons.
::Only Bee and I will communicate with Sam and no other. Topspin keep your distance please. We do not want to agitate the humans further until we leave:: I order, knowing our communications are monitored. I will my troops silently to remember my lessons to them as Prime. You have many plans and when the enemy is near, you never discuss them. Only those you trust and need the help of know the plan. Megatron does not know Sam is a human Prime. If he did, Sam would be dead not controlled. I must not show how important the boy is to us.
The soft enemy signal wrapped around the boy's wrist sends my spark flaring as Sam steps out of the vehicle. The very thing I feared is happening. Humans are being used to hurt me. Not with their weapons but by compromising them. Early in the war mechs I knew turned on me. Some by choice, some by force. Their processors jacked; control coding slapped into their systems. I want to rip the drone off his wrist and dare not.
The growling sound a profanity of Megatron's name, the hated for my own spark brother growing at the sight of the abomination. My optics narrow in, almost shuttered as I face forward and deny the need to strike out, locking down control with enforced protocols. I must appear calm as though complying. We are leaving, isn't that enough? Why torture Sam? Ah, Megatron's way of rubbing my faceplates in the Decepticons apparent victory. I have not one stray line of coding that Sentinel won't hesitate to order our ship shot down, the same as his had been on earth's moon. A former Prime breaking the legacy of the last Prime in treachery.
"What your leaders say is true," I began. "This was all my fault." The speech and its variations ran through my processors continually, picking the right words. Echoes of Megatron's boasting early in the war, our location betrayed by a Decepticon spy we never suspected. My team survived but the fighting cost us dearly, losing medics and femmes in the attack.
"You trust too easily Prime. It will be your downfall," Megatron warned that day, raising his arm cannon to fire before I slammed into him, tackling him hard to the floor and buying the wounded time to escape.
Now I echo those words, knowing they are recorded by another from our shared past. "I told them whom to trust. I was so wrong."
Sam tried comforting saying it is not my fault. My fault? Sentinel betrayed us all, his entire race. True Primes are never defeated, even in death. The legacy of our line carried onward in legends, in our sacred implements carried by future generations and those we know and love. The Matrix of Leadership I carry is a brutal reminder of Primes sacrifice to ensure peace of future generations, on or off Cybertron.
"Remember this," I state, seeing Sam wince. The first week of college and I had asked Sam for help as one equal to another. That memory file reopened, the moments flashing by.
Bumblebee rolling to a stop, letting Sam open the door and step out at the cemetery yelling about being bothered.
"I'm sorry Sam. The Allspark shard has been stolen," I explain, needing the boy to understand the situation was dire. "But I'm here for your help Sam. Because your leaders believe we brought vengeance upon your planet." The pleas for Sam to be a living example and remind the leaders of their friendship and teamwork at Mission city. The sacrifice of the Allspark and Jazz when we could have hidden or run and let the Decepticons blast across the United States. To make them understand and remember more than casualty lists and broken equipment. And I was refused.
Now I face Sam, the roles reversed. The human needing help in a war not his own as we stand in front of the space shuttle Discovery, bonded with our ship Xantiam. And nothing matters. The human could shout to every TV station and leader conference in the world and be ignored. No amount of words on our friendship will undo the decision to cast us off world. "You may lose your faith in us but never in yourselves."
::Their arrogance you mean:: Ratchet's snide remark interrupts across my personal frequency, the overtone of hurt interlacing it. ::Ironhide's remains are stowed and we are ready::
My use of "yourselves," another hit on the humans. Two different races, no longer sharing as we had done. Without looking I feel Ratchet's presence nearby, the mech pacing as his agitation grows to match his sorrow. The Wreckers work further back, continuing last minute touches before signaling their readiness. Their rough mannerisms dropped, no longer a masquerade to keep the humans at bay. 'Who wants to work with a smart aft problem mech?' Ironhide's plan to minimize interference. The equipment at NASA allowing us Autobots to monitor the world in ways we could not have at NEST military locations and garner equipment. Enough to build and prepare for today.
"Faith," Sam mutters.
I want to explain Sentinel had lost that, giving up too easily. A mech that had seen our race rise from slaves into a civilization. Honored with the highest calling of Cybertron at the heights of its glory and technology. Sentinel tried defining the situation and not who we were. Victory or defeat. Win or lose. Us or them. He forgot we are alive. Yes, we were powerful with the universe before us. But we were not gods. We do not define right or wrong by our words or actions. Sparklings know love in their tiniest shell. They need to feel another's spark near to their own, comforting and protecting. Sentinel lost that important lesson. He believed in his own power, his own wisdom that he knew what was best for Cybertron. We, his friends and family became an entry on a list. Our lives part of a plan to be removed or ignored.
Flaring across my optics, the restriction against battle protocols trigger again. My battle mask edges quiver in the side locks, wanting to engage and hide my expression as Sam twitches in pain. I banned torture on prisoners as one of my first edicts as Prime for this very reason. It serves no purpose except to the sadistic delight of the torturer.
"No other human will ever know," Sam gasps out. The meaning clear. In his own way, he is trying to signal me with his behavior and words.
"There is no plan."
The simple statement bitter on my vocal processor. To save a race that lies, I lie. My spark burns with everything I hate and confronted humans on. Concealing the truth. They did it for power and I do it to save them today and the earth later but no less a violation of my own ethical protocols.
Sam makes one last plea, using 'we' and 'ourselves.'
A strong and familiar Decepticon signal pings across my tracker relay. Starscream, in near earth orbit. I was right. Programming calculations upgrade, determining our success factor achievable. Megatron's powerful blast lessening our chances significantly but he sends another. The only question is when the seeker would attack. Will we reach high enough orbit for the boosters to break off? Time to find out.
"You are my friend Sam," I lean down, wondering if he realizes the Cybertronian meaning I am implying, more than the human term. "You always will be. But your leaders have spoken. From here the fight will be your own." The last eight words not directed at the humans but myself. Words spoken by Ironhide soon after my first battle leading as Prime.
"I can teach you to shoot, take faces and scale up fancy battle plans," the black armored mech continued lecturing. Sitting on the medical berth while getting a hand replaced as Orion, now Optimus Prime I listen. "Troops can be burned through like high grade and the best technology is no match for courage and drive. You have that. Now you need to use it wisely. I can only teach so much. The wisdom of the Primes are guides but don't cover how to empty a wash tank or counter a surprise attack. That falls to you. Every orn normal stuff and making hard decisions. From here, the fight will be your own."
Sam's tears began falling and I stomp on my emotions seeing them. Now is not the time to feel but to act. The humans needed a lesson that only pain and despair can teach them beyond my eloquent words. They won't believe our intentions, let them suffer under the Decepticons unrestrained. I have a team to lead.
Striding towards the Xantiam, I step in front of Bumblebee with a reminder. "Make it short. We're loading up." The weakest link, the Guardian wanting to stay and comfort Sam and unable to. His concern the Seeker would strafe the field in a show of strength and Sam will die among the humans. Or with the Autobots gone, he would serve no purpose other than a trophy and be executed. Carefully Bumblebee chooses the few sentences to guide and reassure as he could. Tough men who faced impossible situations and won.
"We're going to do whatever we can to make it like it was," John Wayne's voice starts Bee's quotes. Finishing, the mech joins his own kind and we climb up into the ship. Humans will target us until the first moment of lift. A waste of their resources. We would have better served to defend them instead of their defenses targeting us. No matter. They will learn.
5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
Fires flared as the ignition boosters engaged, the smoke rolling to the sides as metal strained against gravity's pull. The combined ships began rising as those gathered watched. Most were inside the control room, buffered from the noise and heat. Sam perched on a communications tower, unwilling to join them. The drone on his wrist had heard enough. All that was left for him to do was watch. And take the call from Dylan. "Sure of what?"
"That they would leave without a fight," Dylan stated.
"Tracking an incoming object." The simple sentence causing ripples of emotions in the gathered humans at NASA. Inside the rising shuttle, Optimus closed his optics and prayed to Primus for a few more seconds. The harsh snap of a sudden stop and rapid tilting to the side answered his prayer. The first stage boosters were falling away, heading for the ocean and removing them out of the line of fire. They only had to survive stray debris hitting and puncturing their booster as it fell.
Two emotions, contrasting in their simplicity flow into his spark for a second. The pain of loss, deep and unbelieved from a weak source. "Sam," he realized wonderingly. The human reacting to the destruction of the Xantiam. And gloating arrogance, familiar and instantly blocked. Only his brother Megatron would savor destruction deep enough to reach through their closed off bond.
Sentinel's presence was nonexistent, the Prime bond erased as the day his ship disappeared. And Optimus knew why. The greyed corpses of the mechs on the crashed ship proof enough once he reexamined Ratchet's footage from the moon. His medical protocols running automatically recorded everything, stored in a holding file for later review. While retrieving Sentinel, Prime's emotions for his mentor clouded his judgment. The mechs on the ship should have survived, even if only a few the same as Sentinel. Megatron had taught Sentinel more than betrayal of those he loved and swore to protect. He taught him to take sparks. The ship mechs spark spires were smashed, the energy drained out. Not the sacrifice of those under him but used to extend his own spark. The last online, he sealed himself and the pillars in the hold. The power of the pillars could have increased their call for help upon crashing, the power denied and stored to bring down the ruin of two planets. A preserver of evil same as the systems keeping the Fallen online while Cybertron darkened with its own destruction. A past evil stored to cause future destruction.
"The destruction ends today," Prime settled. The thudding sound and rocking motion stilled as their container rested on the ocean floor. Gravity pulled downward on his systems and he released his magnetic hold on the metal to lay on it.
"We made it," Ratchet vented deeply, resting his helm forward against Bumblebee.
"Not yet we didn't," Leadfoot corrected, angling to reach the release hatch and open the installed double doors.
"Got to survive reaching the surface and sharks," Topspin added.
"Aye. Don't forgot those wee meanines like metal. Don't wanna lose your license plate to one," Roadbuster grabbed the second handle, ready to pull and release them.
"Really? That is the least of my worries right now," Ratchet snarked.
"Need to move," Optimus teased, wiggling with their combined weight trapping his frame down.
"We like to move it, move it," jaunty song clip played out Bumblebee's speakers. Small blue optics met large blue optics before they shuttered, the pain contained behind firewalls. The time for battling was now.
To be continued…