"Hey, isn't that your truck?"
Lennox scowled. "No," he snapped, in the defiance of the evidence. Turning, he gestured for Epps to take the squad they'd brought back out to the muster point. With a bit of luck, the signs of activity might keep Ironhide quiet. Yeah… right.
The throaty engine revving outside was a hurry-up Lennox didn't need. Silently, he cursed the impatient weapons mech and fixed his scowl on the police detective in front of him instead. The woman gave him a considering look, not entirely convinced, before shrugging it off.
"Look, major. We're doing our best to be cooperative here, but this was our best lead."
Detective Frye waved a hand, her gesture taking in the oil-streaked concrete underfoot and the half-dismantled vehicles in the bays on their right. A scattering of stab-vested officers moved between them, checking for VIM numbers or other ways to identify their legitimate owners. The garage workers, techs and assorted, leather wearing, teenage hangers-on had been taken to the nearest precinct for processing. It was faintly possible that one of them might leave off spewing profanities for long enough to say something helpful. Lennox wasn't holding his breath.
Their eyes hadn't so much as flickered when he shoved a picture of Sunstreaker's wheels in their faces. A few had whistled in admiration. One young punk had left off insulting the cop arm-locking him for long enough to wonder aloud what the major was compensating for. There had been avarice, sure, and jealousy, but no hint of recognition.
Lennox glared across the garage at the yellow sports car sitting on jacks by the far wall. It had a car-killer attached to the undertray, but there any resemblance to his target ended. Before meeting the Autobots, he might have thought it a pretty neat car. Now he knew there was no comparison.
He turned back to the detective, acknowledging her with a brief nod. "Right, so this tip was a bust. What's the next step?"
"There isn't one." The detective shook her head, running a hand back through her hair. "Look, I don't know what kind of tech you guys have stashed in that vehicle, but this wasn't just our best shot, it was our only one." Frye shook her head. Her voice didn't rise, but instead dropped, becoming a harsh and carrying whisper as a little of her frustration showed. "You won't tell us where the vehicle was stolen from, you won't tell us who left it there, or what's in it. How the hell do you expect us to track the thing down if you can't even tell us what borough we should start in? We can't follow the trail when there isn't one to follow."
"We need that vehicle found! Now!"
The other officers in the place had fallen silent, watching the low-pitched confrontation. They looked away as Lennox scanned the place with ice in his blue eyes. Nothing the detective had said was untrue, and none of it was under the NEST major's control.
He moderated his voice, pinning her with a look of complete sincerity.
"Lives depend on it."
"And that's the only reason I'm still spending time on Grand Theft Auto. But I need you to tell me more. Just give me something to work with."
Frye sighed, reading his taut muscles and clenched fists. She rubbed her brow.
"Look, Major Lennox, I've got the uniforms keeping their eyes open. Traffic enforcement are asking around, and I'll make sure any hint of a clue gets followed up. If we ask the right crowd enough questions, we might shake something loose, but – honestly? – your best bet is to wait for parts of whatever the hell you're looking for to show up on the black market."
There weren't many mental images that could make a special forces major blanch. He swallowed convulsively, feeling the blood drain from his face. Instinct kicked in, and he avoided the detective's touch, swaying backwards before her hand could make contact on his arm. Defensive, and angry with himself for being defensive, Lennox glared at her.
"I'm giving you all I can, Detective. If I knew where Sun… where the car was when it was taken I'd tell you."
His hesitation was a mistake. He saw the detective's eyes harden and knew she'd caught it. She'd suspected he was holding something back before, now she was certain. She stepped back, putting space between them, as she folded her arms.
"My people will keep their eyes open, Major, but if you're serious about lives being at risk, then talk to the FBI, NSA, someone you trust enough to be straight with. 'Cause I've got to tell you, lives depend on everything I do – every two-bit low life with a gun, every scumbag husband who thinks a marriage license gives them a power of life and death, that I put away. I've got a dozen case files on my desk, and at least ten of them have what we like to call a shred of evidence to go on, which is more than I've got now."
There was nothing he could say to that. Detective Frye had promised to do what she could, and nothing more. He could respect that. He nodded, curt and expressionless and turned on his heel. Her voice carried after him as he headed for the wide door and the light that streamed through it.
"We'll call you if something comes up, Major. Don't call us."
Ironhide revved as he stepped, blinking, into the daylight, and Lennox headed for the Autobot. 'Hide already knew that Sunstreaker wasn't here – had known that before he'd even rolled to a stop outside. Even so, he'd want an update, and back on base, Optimus and Ratchet would grill them all for details.
Lennox had no fragging idea what he was going to tell them.
"You're giving up?"
Ironhide's cannons rumbled, the big black mech rotating them in his agitation. He stared down at the humans, and Epps sidled over towards the frowning soldier at the guard station, careful to give the impression that he was acting out of duty rather than, you know, fear. Even Major Lennox swayed a little, trying very hard not to step back in the face of the angry Autobot. The major's shoulders straightened and he didn't look away. He was a hell of a lot braver than Epps was to stand up to that glare.
"No! No… but, 'Hide – "
"You're going to tell Ratch you're giving up on the twins with a 'but'?"
"Ironhide," Optimus Prime's voice fell across the argument like a heavy blanket, the sheer weight of his exhaustion making all who heard it feel guilty for their own part in it. Epps already felt pretty damn guilty and knew that Lennox did too. Prime raised a servo, bringing it to rest on Ironhide's shoulder. "As the Major said, our human allies have exhausted their resources. That is not an abandonment of the search, simply its completion."
Epps fists clenched on the back of the guard's chair and it was a struggle to listen to what the man tried to tell him and focus on the screen. Behind him, Lennox dropped back into his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. Epps winced. Will preferred to stand to speak to the 'bots, particularly when they were angry. Right now though, it looked like the major couldn't stop himself slumping. No kidding. The scant sleep the man had got lately, he had to be aching all over.
"Damn it, 'Hide." Lennox bit off the words. "We've pulled what CCTV we can find from the entire city. We've searched every satellite image we could get our hands on. Hell, I even diverted a nuclear submarine to search empty water! There's nothing more I can do. Even if I had the authority to put every cop in the city on this, they'd be searching for a needle in a haystack. Do you have any idea how many places there are that can hide a single sports car? Whoever took Sunstreaker they had him under cover and out of there long before we started looking. We could spend a decade raiding the chop shops within the city limits, across the state, across the whole country even, and still be no closer to finding him!"
Epps couldn't bring himself to look up. He clamped his lips shut before he could snarl the profanity that tried to escape them. Tapping the guard on the soldier and gesturing him to one side, he slipped into the man's chair, and concentrated on the anomaly in front of him in an attempt to shake loose the imagery.
Like the foul 'car-killer', the term 'chop shop' had taken on a whole different meaning since meeting the Autobots. The mere thought of grease-streaked garages littered with the wreckage of dismantled vehicles made him nauseous. The idea that Sunny might even now be held in one, chained in place and watching the sparks fly from cutting torches was horrifying. Worse still was the nagging fear that Sunstreaker might already be a mindless hulk, his processors and memories torn from that beautiful shell. Epps' troubled imagination could find no comfort in the chance the Autobot's complexity had defeated the organised gangs of car thieves. It was all too easy to imagine Sunny's yellow streaked with energon-pink as a metal cube fell from a crusher, or obscured by the muddy waters of some ditch or pond, left to rust until cold water finally flooded his spark chamber and extinguished him for good.
He was sure that similar pictures, far more vivid for the millennia he'd known the twins, were playing out in Ironhide's processor. He didn't blame the mech for being angry. He was pretty damn angry himself.
Judging by the heat in Lennox's voice, the major felt the same.
"Tell me, 'Hide! Tell me what else you want me to do, and if it's humanly possible I'll find a way to do it, but I can't keep chasing my tail. I've got a responsibility to every man and woman who serves with me to keep NEST functioning, and at the moment it's not coming close! Okay, so we can let this week's exercises slide, but we haven't even talked about the rumours coming up from South America or that last report from Poland!" Will's momentary fervour drained away, leaving him shaking his head. "I want to find him, Ironhide. But I can't make it happen by willpower alone. Ratchet's the only damn miracle worker on this base."
Ironhide stared at the gantry for a long moment before turning away. Arms folded across his chest-plates, the old weapons officer grumbled what sounded like a string of Cybertronian curses, not directed against the human but rather railing against the Universe as a whole.
Optimus Prime watched his old friend with dim optics, his glimmer of amusement at Lennox's last comment bittersweet and fleeting. Venting a sigh, the Prime looked down at the human on the gantry in front of him.
"Major, while I understand your point, and acknowledge the futility of keeping your personnel in the field, I must advise you that the Autobots will continue to search for our missing friend – at least until all hope is gone, and perhaps for some time even then."
Lennox gave a brisk nod, and Epps felt an equal lack of surprise. They hadn't for a second expected any different.
"Optimus, I'm just sorry…"
Prime raised a hand, stilling his counterpart's weak apology.
"You have nothing to apologise for, I assure you." The tall mech vented another sigh. "You are correct that NEST duties cannot be neglected. I shall endeavour to pay them due attention."
"You can start with this." No one expected Epps to speak up at that point. Epps hadn't really intended to himself, but he was fragged if he knew what he was looking at, and changing the subject seemed like a slagging good idea right now. At least, he thought so until human and Autobot alike turned to face the sergeant with varying degrees of surprise and curiosity. He waved a hand up at the monitor he'd spent the last few minutes studying. The picture there was unsteady, taken from a hand-held camera and, as the distortions in the field of view made clear, through a long-range lens. At first glance, the vehicle centre screen didn't seem to merit the effort. A big, black sedan car, it sat motionless, pulled to one side of the dusty desert road.
Lennox raised an interrogative eyebrow, frowning at his subordinate.
"It's a couple of miles down the road." Epps glanced up at Optimus and Ironhide. "Sitting just outside the range of those fancy perimeter sensors of yours." He gestured at the brief text report scrolling up the screen beside the image. "The guys on the gates down there say it's been hanging around near an hour. Just barely in view and not looking like it plans to go anywhere." He shrugged and then hesitated, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful gesture as he glanced up at Lennox. "Gibbs is on the gate guard. He says the only way it could have a stronger undercover-cop vibe would be if it was parked next to a donut stand."
Optimus Prime leaned forward to inspect the small monitor and even Ironhide seemed to be paying grudging attention. They cast both Epps and Lennox an inquiring look, not fully understanding the reference.
"This is your reformed youngling?" Ironhide asked with a frown.
"That's him." Epps leaned back in his chair. He waved a hand distractedly, not quite sure why the still, black car bothered him so much. "If he says the car's watching us, I'd take his word."
Ironhide's cannons whirred. The big mech folded them across his chest and scowled at the screen. "Doesn't look like anyone we know about. Could be a new arrival. Basic mass and frame size would suit a whole range of folks."
Lennox nodded briskly. "You think it's Cybertronian? Not just humans who've heard more than they ought?"
"There've not been any planet-falls we've tracked," Epps added dubiously. "Not in the last few days anyway, and an Autobot wouldn't have stuck around longer than that without saying anything, would they?"
Prime's optics narrowed, his expression betraying brief concentration before a live satellite view of the base's surrounds appeared on the screen, a graphic overlaying it to show the Autobots' sensor grid. The car, stark black against the dusty concrete in the high definition images, was sitting precisely in the hollow between two overlapping circles of sensor coverage, mere feet from being in range. A car width to either side, and they'd be able to scan it. As it was…
"Tell me that's coincidence!" Ironhide demanded. "If those are humans they know a truck-load more than anyone should about our defences."
"I would be equally concerned if the Decepticons have mapped our perimeter so precisely." Prime's unsettled look had morphed into a full-blown frown. "Although I doubt a spy would be so obvious in their chosen surveillance point."
"It really could be a coincidence, you know?" Lennox offered, not believing it himself. Folding his arms across his chest with a sigh, he glanced sidelong at Prime. "You want I should send a patrol out, see if they can spot any occupants? Just in case it really is just some jurisdiction poachers trying to figure out what we're about?"
The giant Cybertronian stood rock still for a moment before shaking his head. "No, Major. It remains possible that this is a Decepticon making an unusually bold move – either through their own arrogance or in the attempt to draw us out into a trap." The uncertain tone of his voice suggested he didn't believe it either. He vented a sigh. "Perhaps the simplest solution is merely to ask the question."
As he spoke, a new signal appeared on the NEST gantry's rolling readout of the public Cybertronian channels. Judging by the headers, Prime was using one of the most basic and general data channels – one that Autobot and Decepticon alike would use to exchange insults freely at the height of battle.
- Unknown mech, please identify. Respond with designation, faction/neutral status and intent –
There was a brief pause, although it no doubt appeared far longer to the two Autobots standing by the gantry. Epps was drawing in his breath to speak when an answer finally appeared.
- Autobot requests permission to approach –
Lennox blinked at the brief message. "Not humans then," he mused. Ironhide was peering more closely at the monitor showing a visual of the distant vehicle. Prime's frown grew deeper.
"Ratchet?" he spoke into thin air. "Would you join us in…?"
"Unless it's a matter of life and death, it can wait." The medic's voice cut him off ruthlessly, its tone flat. "Or you can come here. I'm not leaving medbay."
Prime didn't press. Ironhide shifted his weight a little to stand closer to his leader. The weapons master scowled at the screen.
"Not even Ratch has the sensors to tell Autobot from 'Con at that range, Optimus."
As Ironhide spoke, the coms pinged again, the statement repeating without change.
- Autobot requests permission to approach –
- Autobot: identify. Send designation and confirmation –
This time Ironhide snorted, glancing incredulously at Prime. "You're going to take this guy's word for his faction?"
"I asked for confirmation, Ironhide."
"And if it's an ID file we don't have on record?" Ironhide challenged. "It's not like we have a full database here. It's been hard enough keeping track of the Autobots we're still in contact with, let alone every stray 'Con, since we lost Cybertron. Unless it's someone we already know…"
The speculation was redundant. The reply came without the encrypted data file that would confirm a mech's identity. Instead it was just as blunt as the previous message.
- NEST base Autobot: please identify –
Epps rolled his eyes. "Why do I get the impression this could go on all day?"
Ironhide cycled his weapons, not disagreeing. "Whoever it is, he's a stubborn fragger."
Prime shook his head. "However I am not."
He spoke his Earth-translation name and, as he did, it appeared on the screen, broadcast to the newcomer. Accompanying it a Cybertronian name glyph denoted a quantum locked, unalterable file that was sendable only by a mech with the same spark resonance as that encoded within. The emphatic declaration of identity announced that this was Cybertron's Prime, leader of the Autobot Army and charismatic guardian of all that was left of the Cybertronian race.
The response was brief and to the point – a single name glyph that represented the mech's own identity file.
Epps didn't really expect the glyph to find a match in their limited database. His hands hovered over the keyboard ready for one of the 'bots to fill him in, and waiting to enter the human-equivalent name. He wasn't expecting Prime and Ironhide to fold down into their alt modes as one mech, heading to the hangar door at top speed, or for Ratchet to burst out of medbay a moment later, following them with sirens blazing. He was already blinking in surprise when the computer console beeped, a line of human-written code following the Cybertronian communications.
Name glyph match found. Faction: Autobot. Designation: Prowl.