Midas Touch

Chapter Four

It was a week later that it happened, and there was absolutely no warning. It started off as a perfectly normal Saturday evening.

Sam and Mikaela had been out in Bumblebee that day, enjoying a drive about, and a stop at the Lookout to stretch their legs and talk a few things over. They had been discussing where their friendship had been, where it currently was, and where it was going to head. As it was turning into something more between the three of them, they had felt the need to discuss it frankly and honestly. It was a good idea, for they had now all been able to be honest with each other, and from the discussion had emerged a decision that felt right for all three: a decision to move further on, but not too far or fast for any of them.

They dropped Mikaela off at her Mom's house, and then Bumblebee drove Sam home, playing a cheerful and upbeat tune on his radio. Sam got out, and gave Bumblebee a sweeping, loving stroke down his hood, and as he went past his father's green Porsche, gave its hood a light stroke, thinking how much he'd coveted one of these cars and had ended up with Bumblebee-although, of course, now he wouldn't trade Bumblebee in for a Porsche, or even a whole fleet of them. Who needed a Porsche when not only could your Chevy Camaro update itself to the latest model in a few seconds, but was, to boot, an alien who was also your best friend, and one of two significant others?

Sam didn't notice the tingle that ran down his arm as he slid his fingers along the Porsche's hood, so preoccupied was he with thinking about the conversation that he, Bumblebee, and Mikaela had had at the Lookout. Even if he had noticed it, he would not have thought it anything worthy of note, and certainly would not have known what it would presage.

As Sam went inside, it was Bumblebee who noticed the Porsche shudder, but even he did not understand what was going on, at least not until the Porsche unexpectedly shifted, and unfolded into a (to Bumblebee's shocked optics) very attractive, but confused, uncertain, and scared, femme bot.

Sam, in the meantime, was unaware of the happenings outside, his mind on only one thing: filling his stomach. He walked through into the kitchen. His parents were out, visiting some almost-neighbours a few doors up, a visit they had been putting off for weeks and could not now get out of.

Sam's mother had put his food on a plate and covered it with film wrap: all Sam needed to do was put it in the microwave oven. He put it in, and decided to put some toast on as well, for if there was one thing Sam liked food wise, it was hot buttered toast. Grabbing two slices of bread from the bread basket. He dropped them in the toaster's slots, neither noticing the microwave behind him transforming, nor the toaster give a shake as his fingers lifted off the lever that lowered the bread and activated the toaster's elements.

It was only as he turned back to the microwave, as it 'pinged' at him urgently, that he noticed what had happened to it.

"Oh shit. Oh SHIT!" he said, as he heard the sound of the toaster transforming, and turned in time to see it tilt forward, and fire the bread at him. He ducked.

"SHIT!" he swore, dodging to one side as the microwave, feeling threatened, threw its door open and spun the plateful of food out, which hit the wall with a crash, as the plate shattered and dropped to the floor in a squidgey mess.

He put his hands out, one towards each terrified appliance. "STOP!" he cried, but his words were followed by the same sort of odd clicks and purrs he'd somehow produced at the electrical store. However, it had the desired effect: both the microwave (red optics) and the toaster (blue optics) turned to look directly at him, and, thankfully, did not try to fire anything at him.

"Shit." he muttered again. How was he going to explain this to his Mom? First things first: for some reason, these two new AllSpark babies seemed to trust him. He beckoned to them, held out his arms, and opened his mouth to say something to reassure them that he'd take them to people who could look after them, but instead, all that came out was some more of those odd clicks and whirrs.

The microwave responded first, by leaping into Sam's arms. It clicked, and somehow Sam knew that it was content and, although still not totally at ease, it was no longer so scared. The toaster also leaped to him, managing to scramble up his arm and perch on his shoulder, holding on with skinny but long arms.

Shaking his head in confusion - and hoping to get a drink soon so he could ease the ache in his throat that the odd noises had caused - Sam headed out. As he exited, only then did Sam notice what had happened to his Dad's car.

Bumblebee was holding out a hand towards the green femme, beckoning gently, making encouraging clicks to soothe her. She took a step forward, put her hand in Bumblebee's. Bumblebee reached his other hand slowly over to pat hers, and made more noises of reassurance.

"Crap!" said Sam. Explaining the toaster and microwave to his mother would be easy compared to explaining to his Dad what had happened to his car. Bumblebee patted the femme bot's hand a few more times, and then turned his head to look at Sam, gesturing his way and making some more strangely harmonious-sounding noises. The femme bot looked his way, and even Sam could see that as her blue gaze settled on him, it was anxious and wary. Her other hand reached out to grasp the forearm connected to the hand Bumblebee was using to clasp her other hand.

"Sam, we have to take her to the Base." Bumblebee said, his optic lenses rapidly expanding and contracting in a fashion that Sam knew was indicative in an Autobot of distress. "You know the Autobot view on freedom, and she is no exception. She must be given the choice of whether she wants to stay with your father and be his car or not. She was a Sparkless, non-sentient drone when he first got her, but now that has changed, so must your perceptions, and your father's perceptions of her."

Bumblebee reached his hand back over to the femme, stroking her hand, for she was shifting her weight from one leg to another, that left Sam himself in no doubt that she was agitated.

"She may choose to stay with your father, but at the moment, she is scared. She does understand, in her own, currently limited way, the concept of slavery, and it terrifies her. Would you have her believe that she has no choice, that she must be a slave to your father's wishes?" Bumblebee asked, as he switched his attention between Sam and the increasingly restive femme.

"No, of course not!" Sam said, honestly and fervently. "It's gonna cause me a major headache, but of course she must be allowed to choose her own destiny." He nodded to the two appliances snuggled trustingly in his arms and on his shoulder. "Just like these two. Can we get to Ratchet now, though, before we attract more attention than we need to?" Sam asked.

"Yes, Sam, and I'll ask Optimus if he can clear it with the government to reimburse your father so he can get another drone car to drive-although if I were he, I'd wait till you get this problem sorted out, or it'll just happen again." He patted the femme's hand comfortingly. "It's all right, you'll get to choose to do what you want, just like anyone else." he reassured her. His optics dimmed as he databurst something to her. She silently folded back down into her Porsche form again, and looked no different to before, even though Sam squinted like mad to see any sign of a change. Even her logo was still that of a Porsche. Sam guessed that she either didn't know about the factions, or hadn't decided to choose a side yet, or maybe just wanted to be neutral.

Sam watched as Bumblebee too folded back down into Camaro form, and once he was done, Sam moved over, placing the two other AllSpark babies in the back, and then taking his customary place in Bumblebee's driver's seat.

Bumblebee pulled out of the drive, and the Porsche, as Bumblebee's databurst had advised it to, followed on behind.