Disclaimer: Not mine.
If you're expecting cannon Sam, sorry but there's no way I could write him outside of copying the script for his every scene because his whole family is given dumb lines and reactions.
Chapter 5
Bumblebee watched the paved routes, seeing vehicles traversing them, there was no Spark or intelligence within, in fact scans and his own optics revealed organics operating the vehicles. It was all so strange. He finally spotted something he could work with, liking the colours and trans-scanned it quickly, transforming before joining the other vehicles.
He didn't know that he was only ten minutes ahead of a mass of official vehicles who arrived at the crash site to find familiar energy readings off the charts and burning plants.
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An Orn later, Bee was still lost, the planet just had too many signals to try and isolate those he was looking for. He'd nearly been in trouble several times until he managed to get his holographic systems up and running, using one to mimic a driver. He'd learnt a lot, like the dominate species called themselves humans and their planet Earth, not very creative. They were a young species compared to his and didn't even live two Vorns. To make up for that short life they did everything fast. He also found the way they procreated rather…messy and not at all nice.
Their technology shared similarities with his which meant he had to be on the right track, the AllSpark was either here or had been here in recent history since history said technology like computers had only been around for around what they called a century. If the Cube was hidden, he wasn't sure how he would find it.
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Sam Witwicky slumped back on his bed, frustrated. His Dad had promised him a car which was great! He'd managed to save the $2000 which was his contribution, but he needed one more A and the only assignment coming up was the genealogy project for Mr Hosney, not his favourite subject or teacher. Who in his family tree was actually interesting? Both sides were equally crazy…and he knew he shouldn't think that, but it was true. He was honestly embarrassed by his parents, it was like they'd never grown up or something. He blinked from his position across the bed as he spotted an old box under his bed. He wriggled forward and yanked it out, flipping it open to see a pair of cracked old glasses and some brass instruments. Well, guess he knew who he was doing the assignment on now and…it wasn't like the family wanted this stuff. He got up and turned on his computer, snapping photos of everything he logged into eBay and began putting them up for sale. He was just glad he'd managed to change his username from the joke one Miles had given him. LadiesMan217 was not his idea of a sensible username and was asking for trouble if his Mom or any female ever saw it.
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Bumblebee was surprised when he got an alert from a background search he was running, he brought up the results to find an eBay page, an electronic marketplace. And right there for sale was a pair of human eyewear with Cybertronian glyphs etched into the glass. He began digging into the accounts, searching for the user data.
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Sarah smiled as her husband finally appeared on the computer screen, holding Annabelle up to so Will could see her and he smiled, looking tired, dirty but also happy.
"Ahahaha! My ladies!" he greeted them.
"Look," she shifted Annabelle who cooed at her Dad.
"Oh, my goodness. Look at her. She's getting so big. Look at those cheeks. I just wanna chew on them. Baby, we made a good-looking kid. I know that people say that all the time, but... Wow, we made one good-looking kid. Nice work."
"She has your laugh," Sarah told him, it was something she missed a lot with him gone. It had been hard, having Annabelle without him at her side but he had been unable to get leave for the birth.
"She laughed?"
"Her first one, yeah."
"You la- you sure she didn't just fart?" he asked warily, and she laughed.
"No, she's a lady," she chided him as Annabelle began to cry. "She doesn't know you yet, but she will." The image began to break up and she frowned, why now? "Will?" the screen went back but she could hear scratchy noises.
"Sarah? Hey, Sarah, if you can hear me, I love…" it went silent and she sighed, standing up to go get Annabelle a bottle to settle her. She hated being so far apart and she had this sick feeling in her stomach.
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"Okay, mister Witwicky, you're up," Hosney called, not looking at all interested.
Sam took a deep breath and gathered his props, walking down to the front to set it up. "Sorry, I got a lot of stuff."
"Watch this," Trent whispered to Mikaela.
"Oh-kay. For my family genea- ah-" he was going to be sick, he hated public speaking. No, he needed that A! the students laughed as a spit ball hit him and Hosney actually sat up and looked around.
"Who did- who did that? People! Responsibility."
"Okay. Um." He paused for another deep breath, trying to ignore the other students. "So, for my family genealogy report, I decided to do it on my great-great-grandfather, who was a famous man, Captain Archibald Witwicky. Very famous explorer. In fact, he was one of the first... to explore... the Arctic Circle, which is a big deal. In 1897, he took forty-one brave sailors straight into the Arctic Shelf." He held up the old map, showing the route they had taken and explaining how hard it had been for them to try and cut the ice from around the ship to move deeper. "No sacrifice, no victory! That was what he would tell them, it kind of became the family motto. So that's the story, right? And here we have some of the basic instruments and tools used by nineteenth century seamen." He paused as they laughed. "This here is the quadrant, and this is a sextant." More laughter, wonderful. "These are pretty cool. These are my grandfather's glasses, they've seen many cool things. Um, unfortunately, my great-great-grandfather, the genius that he was, wound up going blind and crazy in a psycho ward, drawing these strange symbols and babbling on about some, uh, giant ice man that he thought he'd discovered…" and the bell rang.
"Okay. Might be a pop quiz tomorrow. Might not. Sleep in fear tonight."
"It's all for sale on eBay if you're interested," Sam said as the others rushed by before packing it all up.
"Sam?"
Sam grabbed his bag and offered a hopeful smile. "Yeah. Sorry, sorry. Okay. Pretty good, right?"
"Uh... I'd say a solid B-minus."
"A B-minus?"
"Well there wasn't much to the story, it was more show than tell."
"Okay, you see my father? He's the guy in the green car," Sam pointed out the window.
"Nh. Yeah."
"He said, "Son, I'm gonna buy you a car. But I want you to bring me two thousand dollars, and three As." Okay? I got the two thousand dollars and I got two As. Okay? Here's the dream. Your B-minus. Poof. Dream gone. Kaput. Sir, please, I did look for more information but it's like he vanished after being put in the looney bin." Sam argued. Hosney stared at him before finally nodding and Sam grinned. "Thanks!"
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"I got a little surprise for you, son," Ron offered, driving towards the Porsche store and Sam shook his head, used to his Dad. 'Yeah, a little surprise."
"You think that's funny? Where are we really going?"
"Yeah, I think it's funny. You need to relax a bit Sam."
"What's wrong with you?" he groaned. Instead they drove into a rundown lot and Sam sighed, he should have known this was coming. "Here? You said- you said half a car, not half a piece of crap, Dad."
"When I was your age, I'd have been happy with four wheels and an engine."
"Do these things even run? I'm going to be spending more on fixing it and never get to drive it. You want me to live that life? Hmm?"
"No sacrifice-"
"Yeah, no victory."
"No victory."
"You know, I got it. The old Witwicky motto, Dad." He got out of the car, pushing away the disappointment.
"Right." Ron got out and looked around.
"Gentlemen. Bobby Bolivia, like the country, except without the runs," he laughed at his own joke. "How can I help you?"
"Well, my son here... looking to buy his first car." He clapped Sam on the shoulder and Sam managed a weak grin.
"You come to see me?"
"I had to."
"That practically makes us family. Uncle Bobby B, baby. Uncle Bobby B."
"Sam." He slipped out of his Dad's grip, eyes scanning the lot for something that might actually run.
"Sam, let me talk to you. Sam, your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods. Let me tell you something, son. A driver don't pick the car. The car'll pick the driver."
"Mm." Sam wasn't really listening as he wandered the rows. None of them noticed a faded yellow and black car drive itself into an empty spot.
"It's a mystical bond between man and machine. Son, I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of them. Especially not in front of my mammy. That's my mammy. Hey, Mammy! Ooh don't be like that. If I had a rock, I'd bust your head, bitch. I tell you, man, she deaf, you know? Well, over here, every piece of car a man might want or need."
Sam finally stopped in front of a Camero, running a hand over the paint job. "This ain't bad. This one's got racing stripes."
"Yeah. It got racing- Yeah, what's this? What the heck is this? I don't know nothing about this car. Manny!"
"What?"
"What is this? This car! Check it out!"
"I don't know, boss! I've never seen it! That's loco!"
"Don't go Ricky Ricardo on me, Manny! Find out!"
Sam ignored the yelling to settle in the driver's seat, finding it was perfect. He ran his hands over the steering wheel, finding an odd symbol. "Feels good."
"How much?" Ron asked, seeing Sam was finally getting interested.
"Well, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job..."
"Yeah, but the paint's faded," Sam argued, great, the guy was a conman.
"Y-yeah, but it's custom."
"It's custom faded?" he snorted.
"Well, this is your first car. I wouldn't expect you to understand. Five grand."
"No, I'm not paying over four. Sorry," Ron shook his head.
"Kid, come on, get out. Get out the car."
"No, no, no. You said cars pick their drivers." This one, it just felt…right.
"Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass father. Out the car. Now, this one here for four Gs is a beaut." He turned to the one next to it and Sam grimaced as he finally gave up and got out.
"There's a Fiesta with racing stripes over there," Ron offered in consolation and Sam shook his head.
"No, I don't want a Fiesta with racing stripes."
"This is a classic engine right here. I sold a car the other day-" Bolivia yelped as the door slammed shut, hit by the passenger door of the Camero which had apparently swung open when Sam shut the driver door.
"Geez. Holy cow," Ron winced in sympathy.
"No, no, no. No worries."
"You all right?"
"I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this right out. Hey, hey, Manny! Get your clown cousin and get some hammers and come bang this stuff out, baby!"
"Greater than man..." the radio crackled, and Sam looked down, frowning, no…that was crazy.
"That one's my favourite, drove all the way from Alabamy."
"Go..." the radio crackled again and then there was a pulse of noise and they all hit the deck as windows across the lot exploded. Sam stared at yellow paint with wide eyes.
"Woah!" Ron covered Sam, protecting his son. It stopped and they all stood up, staring at the damage.
"Four thousand!" Bolivia gasped and Ron frowned but Sam nodded.
He quickly signed the paperwork and accepted the keys. "I'll meet you at home Dad."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, got enough to fill the tank and get a basic wash," Sam assured him, so Ron left, and Sam got in. he ran his fingers over the wheel and then started the engine and drove off the lot. There was something odd about this car, but he didn't mind, he felt safe behind the wheel.
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Bee was very happy with himself, he'd gotten himself bought as the boy's car. He just had to work out how to go about first contact with him, to ask for the glasses. It would be so much easier if he had his voice back, but he could work with the radio. But not yet, let the boy get used to his presence first, besides he had said he'd get him a wash and that would be nice. His good mood was helped by the fact he'd received a transmission last night, the advanced group was approaching. He'd see his Caretaker again soon! He didn't know who was in the group, but he didn't care, he just wanted to see his friends again.
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Sarah dropped into the chair, eyes locked on the screen, hand over her mouth to keep from screaming in denial. No….not Will, please not Will.
"At this time, we can't confirm whether there were any survivors."
"Oh, my God," she choked before reaching for her daughter, seeking comfort. "Daddy's gonna be okay," she whispered, praying it was true. He had to come back to them.
TBC….