Guys...I'm so sorry. I have to explain= I wanted to see where the third movie was going with the story line and if I could incorporate it into True Moxy!...I can't. I tried. I rewrote and rewrote and gave up. I can't let go of Mikaela as Sam's girl...even if Meg is a big mouthed dumbass. So...i've gone back to the original. Again, I'm not a writer by trade.
There are mistakes, try to ignore them. I'm sick of this chapter sitting idle in my file so I'm throwing it out to you for consumption.
True Moxy!
Who is protecting whom?
Diego Garcia was a pint sized, pancake flat, island located in the southern seas of the Indian Ocean. A place crawling with acronym stamped U.S. Aircraft, ships, and the occasional submarine, Diego Garcia was the N.E.S.T. team launch pad that doubled up as Autobot secondary headquarters. Only essential personnel were allowed free run of the place, which basically included all of the one Non-Biologics Special Operations Unit and them alone when the big mechs were actually present. Coming and going units were kept as segregated as possible from the Autobots when they were on the island for safety reasons. Most people do not handle the presence of thirty foot tall, sentient beings from other worlds very well. That and the U.S. government had not initially wanted to openly admit to N.E.S.T. and Autobot existence.
Well the cat was out of the bag now.
The aircraft carrier from Egypt slowly made berth along one of the only deep docks that could handle the massive ship. Men were scurrying about unloading various bits of equipment and crates full of who knew what, while the only other large 'cargo' unloaded themselves. Optimus Prime was still in questionable condition and had to be propped up on a vehicle slate to be pulled out gently. Ratchet had appointed himself overseer of this process, much to the dismay of everyone present, including the Autobot leader.
"Seeing that big truck mucked up so bloody bad is quite a real shame." Graham commented to Epps as he watched several dozen men and Ironhide pull the trashed Peterbilt down the dock ramp toward their special hangar. The United Kingdom's Special Forces agent was totally blown away by the giant mechs, and after the shock of seeing them wore off, like all the men everywhere it seemed, was instantly taken with the big alien machines. Only a man could swoon over pieces of animated machinery that were equipped with an impressive array of weaponry that glowed and created instant gratification in the demolition department.
"Ratchet said it'd take a few weeks for him to fully recover." Epps rattled off like a mantra the words spoken days ago to them. Just because it seemed like written law of the Universe that Optimus be better now, didn't mean he would be. "He took some major damage; we all did."
There in the blaring tropical sunlight, was a grudging reminder of the recent battle. Besides Optimus' obvious distressed state, Ironhide and Ratchet both had major dents and ripped metal plating. The black paint of Ironhide's Topkick was nearly completely scraped off on one side, and the tailgate door was missing. The Arcee triplets were worse for wear as well, one of them- Epps wasn't sure which as he could never seem to keep their names straight- was virtually a pile of scrap; completely unrecognizable as the bike she was supposed to be. And it just went on and on. Several fine men had been killed and many more injured. The casualties had been unloaded first and were already on flights home to their loved ones.
"The Feds are going to go ape shit over this." He finally commented into the silence between them. Epps was so sick of the pencil pushers sticking their novice noses into every nook and cranny, just looking for a way to harass the armed forces more and more.
"Morshower was already working the angles last time I checked in on the bridge." Graham mumbled as he watched the chrome yellow camaro of Bumblebee transform in order to pull apart the constantly squabbling twins, who couldn't even manage to make it down the dock ramp without starting something. "The suits were already looking for 'goats' to sacrifice to the bloody public. Morshower politely told them to piss off I imagine."
Epps sighed in frustration "I hate politics."
"No kidding, mate. Double edged sword, they are. Can't do nuthin' it seems like without enraging some busy body with an agenda." Graham bobbed his head in agreement. Everyone seemed to be a Monday morning quarterback in matters of conflict. After the decisions had been made and the consequences already trickling down, some smart ass politician had to stand up and hassle the guys that were just following the orders that were originally demanded on by that same smartass not more than two weeks prior.
"Hey Bobby! Graham! What is this, a tea party?" bellowed the unmistakable voice of the Major across the docks. "Get over here, ladies, your assistance would be much appreciated!"
"You scheduled for leave soon?" Epps asked, ignoring the jeering hollers and whistling from the rest of the men working alongside the Major, as they meandered over.
"Leaving today actually. Figured I stick around here a few hours more before going home for a lil' R'n'R." Graham grinned at the thought. "Let you boys handle this mess on your own while I spend my time fishing on a quiet lake somewhere and kicking back a cold pint or three."
"Graham, you fish? And here I thought all you English types played polo, watched soccer for kicks and guzzled tea like it was going out of fashion." Lennox intoned as he tightened the tie-down clamps on a Humvee laden slate.
"Soccer!" Graham squawked, deeply insulted for his country's national past-time, "It's called football, you barbaric American hick!"
Lennox opened his mouth to argue, but was distracted by Stevie, the base's main communications operator, who was sprinting up the ramp straight for the group. Pausing to snap off a crisp salute, Stevie puffed out a solid "Major Lennox, sir!"
Stalled in his verbal assault on Graham, Lennox straightened after seeing the somewhat nervous look on the normally easy going man's face, "At ease, corporal. What seems to be the issue?"
"The Commander and Chief, his Secretary of State, and General Morshower are on the line for you, sir." Stevie rattled off hurriedly between puffs of breath. He must have run from the other side of the island.
"The who?" Epps choked, not believing his ears.
"What the devil could the first two want with you?" Graham asked in a wary voice.
"Dunno, but I best not keep them waiting." Lennox hoped off the Humvee rack, and hit the ground running with the still panting corporal at his heals.
Trading apprehensive looks with the rest of the guys, Epps grunted to the group at large. "How much you wanna bet this isn't a congratulatory phone call?"
The low whirring of Ironhide's favorite canon was music to his processors after having spent the entire trip back unable to work on the damaged weapon. This was the last time he allowed that flying glitch, Starscream, to get that close to him ever again. Granted, he practically blasted the seeker into next week, galactic time, even though the coward had managed to disabled the big gun by ripping the energon line and cracking the revolving plates in a sneak attack. Ironhide took it as professional pride to have intact weaponry at the culmination of a skirmish, and was deeply irritated that a Decepticon had pulled a fast one on him, of all Autobots.
He's just lucky Ironhide's attention was split between several other opponents at once, or Starscream would have been scrap in five seconds flat for just grazing the paint.
Resting a large metal webbbed hand against the repaired canon and just feeling the radiating heat was like coming home for the weapon's specialist. Without the proper tools, Ratchet was only able to reattach the vital energon line and mend the torn outer shell. Serious interior surgery for his canons was something Ironhide did himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ratchet's quality of work, but the medic never spent the extra time re-tweaking everything up to Ironhide's insanely high standards of precision and expectation.
If you wanted your legs reattached and your face mended, you went to Ratchet.
If you wanted your weapons repaired, cleaned, reassembled and tuned up or just plain up graded- Ironhide was your Autobot of choice.
Hell, he even put his unique talents to good use for the N.E.S.T. team a large portion of the time. Human guns were simple but efficient for such a young and, in his opinion, 'primitive' race. But frag, did they have a stock of courage and loyalty behind that slight downfall.
If there were more humans like Sam and the Special Forces unit out there, then there was hope yet for this planet.
Lifting the heavy component, Ironhide reattached the ensemble completely back into his right forearm and practiced raising it to the 'ready' position and back down again. Feeling complete for the first time in over a week, the black mech released a sigh from his vents in pure bliss.
"You stupid son of a-"
"Don't go there, we're brothers after all. "
"Quit telling me what to do! "
"Try and stop me-"
A crash and a loud burst of blisteringly profanity caused Ironhide to groan. Those twins were something else. How Bumblebee put up with them by himself, for as long as he did without rendering them offline permanently, was truly remarkable.
Ironhide wasn't even remotely close to being that patient.
"Cut that out you rat bastard!" Skid's green body was pinned under Mudflap, who was trying to squish his brother's face into a twisted pile of junk.
Swiveling from his seat, Ironhide had his repaired darling out and pinned on the irritating sparklings in the blink of an eye. "Boys." He growled low and rough, hoping that they'd ignore him so he'd have a reason to test his repaired canon.
Even they weren't that stupid.
Pausing in mid-scuffle, their optics widened as they took in the warm rotating light from Ironhide's largest canon.
"Maybe you should show yourselves out." The weapon's specialist rumbled, thoroughly enjoying the slightly wild looks of panic on their sparkling faces.
"Uh…" Skids choked.
"Good idea!" Mudflap was off like a shot, his alternate form speeding away like the Con's of Hell were after him.
"W-wait up Mudflap!" the green Chevy Beat wasn't far behind his deserting brother's tailpipe.
Chuckling darkly, Ironhide off lined his weapon before someone caught site of him taking aim at the twins and tattled on him. Optimus could be touchy about things like that sometimes. Turning back to his work bench -the largest work bench in the history of the planet Epps once said- Ironhide sorted his tools into their special compartments and organized his excess parts into their holding bins. The quiet of the hanger was preferable to those loud mouth glitches any day.
It wasn't long before a small blip in his sensors alerted him to another's presence. Careful not to turn around and accidently step on someone, Ironhide twisted his upper body and swept his optical gaze across the monstrous hangar. Epps was strolling towards him with a strange look on his face.
The Chief Master Sergeant, Major Lennox, and a small handful of others were really the only humans that conversed with him regularly, which if Ironhide was honest, was completely fine with him. He was a warrior, not the town gossip. Conversational skills were more Optimus and Ratchet's prerogative anyway, so he usually left it up to them to be diplomatic. He could do it too, when he felt like it, but he'd just rather let his guns do the talking.
"Yo, 'Hide." Epps called up to the large black 'bot when he realized he already had the mechs blue 'eyed' attention. "The Major needs you over in communications since Big Blue is still out of commission. We need an Autobot Representative."
Communications? "What seems to be the problem?" Ironhide asked unfolded to his feet and started to move towards the Sergeant in even, ground trembling, steps.
"Ah…I'm not entirely sure. I was just ordered to retrieve you on the Majors orders." Epps reported, the peculiar look on his face never really dissipating. Ironhide wasn't an expert on interpreting human expressions so he didn't really know what to do about it if the human wouldn't divulge information willingly.
Glancing back behind him as if checking for someone, Epps turned back and craned his head to look up at the stocky mech, "Actually, Billy was called in there earlier because the President of the United States, his Secretary of State and General Morshower were on the line." He confessed. "I'm not sure why but it's probably nothing good."
Politics then. "Where's Ratchet?"
"With Optimus still." Epps said, rubbing his neck in a tired fashion. "He was the one that said you were the official Autobot liaison if Big Blue wasn't available."
Damn it all.
Seeing the obvious displeasure in the stocky mech, Epps could only offer an apologetic shrug, "Sorry man, we tried to avoid making you do this."
"It's my responsibility as second." He said with a small shake of his head. Well, his conversation skills were going to get a good work out today after all. Frag it.
"You seem uncomfortable with this." Ironhide said pointedly as Epps fidgeted with nervous energy.
Epps stilled before throwing a look over his shoulder again. "The suits back in Washington probably mean well, but they always have…motives for everything they ever do." Catching Ironhide's blue gaze, Epps frowned "I don't like civilian desk jockeys messing around with my men and comrades like they were just…expendable property in monetary value alone."
Ironhide understood perfectly as he started moving toward the bay door. "You think they're going to be coming after us again?"
Epps turned and started to jog in union with Ironhide's lumbering gate, "Probably. Don't let them try and push you guys off Earth, Ironhide. Optimus was polite about it, but we're serious! This is you're home now too!" Epps wasn't kidding. Guys across the forces loved the Autobots like the brother's-in-arms they were.
"Understood, Sergeant." Ironhide watched as Epps turned on his heal and marched off to presumably go waste time until this meeting was over, while the black mech continued on his path towards the HQ.
Coming in to the main hangar that housed Autobot and Communications alike, Ironhide immediately noticed that two computer techs and the Major were the only other occupants in the building; the other Autobots must have scattered to give the humans space in their negotiations. Lennox seemed to be getting antsy and as he spotted Ironhide pacing toward the elevated communication platform, the major gave him a slightly strained grin before he turned his attention back to the discussion he was supposed to be following. Ironhide immediately decided he'd wait before announcing himself to see where this was all going.
"…-General, we highly recommend you consider our suggestion." A voice Ironhide didn't recognize stated over the speakers.
"Absolutely not." General Morshower intoned sharply.
Lennox's stance was stiff, "I agree with General Morshower, sir. I don't believe it would be the best course of action."
"I was speaking with only the General, Major."
Lennox didn't respond and Ironhide watched the techs shoot the video screen a few dirty looks before turning back to their work.
"General, you need to look at the big picture! The public is demanding answers to their questions. Not just our own country either. The nations of the world are demanding those same answers! Egypt is absolutely furious about several ancient buildings being completely demolished and they are blaming us!" the same voice fired off. Ironhide did a voice scan and came up with a picture of an unremarkable looking, middle-aged human male that happened to be the current Secretary of State.
"The right people in Egypt are aware of what transpired. As like with the Chinese government in relation to Hong Kong with the factory and highway incidents, we are working with them to come up with appropriate solutions and answers to keep their people calm for the time being." General Morshower patiently explained. "This was an unavoidable situation we found ourselves and it couldn't be helped."
The scoff was discernable from Ironhides position "Unavoidable? We were prepared for diplomatic intervention before your men took matters into their own bumbling hands and went Rambo all over the place!"
"What do you purpose we do then? Parade the Autobots before the public like a horse and pony show? I repeat, absolutely not."
A new voice entered the heated discussion and Ironhide was quick to place the voice with an image of the Commander and Chief of the United States. "The secret is out, Hank. I'm at a loss for a way to explain this without acknowledging their presence here. We can't keep deceiving the masses anyway since the videos of this recent occurrence are all over the major news networks and internet already."
"Mr. President, I just don't believe making a huge production of the Autobot's existence will help matters. Most nations will think this a hoax put on by the United States military." The General reasoned as calmly as he could. "We've been issued several threats of retaliation if we don't lay down 'these new weapons'. Hell, the United Nations issued two sanctions on us already!"
"I'm well aware General, but as far as I'm convinced, there's no way around this." The exasperation was palpable in the President's voice.
"Mr. President, sir, the Autobot's residency will most likely be met with heavy opposition. They've worked-"
"What makes you think that the well being of those aliens should have any clout in our decisions?" the Secretary interrupted with an angry snap. How did a clown like that come to hold an office where subtlety and finesse were required anyway?
The silence that followed the politician's tirade was tense as Ironhide watched Lennox curl his hands into white knuckled fists.
"Because they saved this planet, sir, and therefore deserve our respect and gratitude. They've sacrificed much to defeat an enemy that has been here longer than our own race." Lennox vehemently spat at the secretary as he swallowed most of his rage over the cheap shots taken at the Autobot's expense. "If you have such an aversion to them-"
"Major." The quiet reprimand from the General wasn't lost on Lennox and he went silent immediately.
"We need someone to work with, gentlemen so why not the boy?" the president suggested after a bloated pause. The shuffling of papers was heard over the line as he searched for some tidbit of information. "Samuel Witwicky?"
Ironhide stiffened.
"If the global community isn't going to believe the political leaders of the United States, what could a teenaged boy possibly hope to accomplish?" General Morshower immediately cut the foundation out from under that idea.
"Nonsense." The unreasonable Secretary sounded off, "His face was plastered on television sets and computer screens across the globe for days after that creature made his announcement. He-"
Ironhide shifted his great weight in agitation. Dragging the human child into another political power struggle was not something Ironhide would allow. "It would be a public execution for the boy, Mr. Secretary. And that's something I won't allow with or without his consent." He'd rumbled off, his guttural voice freezing the previously unaware men in their places.
He could see the surprised faces of both the President and the Secretary of State from his newly shifted angle. The General seemed to be unaffected and allowed the proceedings to continue, apparently unconcerned as he took a slow sip from his coffee mug. The Secretary opened his mouth a few times before the President took the initiative. "Ah, yes…who…to whom are we speaking?" his voice was strong despite the slight, almost imperceptible, tremble.
Lennox shot the weapon's specialist a grateful look before turning back to the screen to address the men. "Gentlemen, Mr. President- allow me to introduce, the Autobot's Second in Command, and Chief Weapon's Specialist- Ironhide."
There was another bloated pause, which the Secretary recovered from first this time. "Who are you to give orders to us, Ironhide?"
A soft snort met Ironhide's processors as Lennox and the computer techs exchanged eye rolls. Amused, the big mech moved to address the irritating human on the screen, out of view of the camera lens. "The child is under our protection, Mr. Secretary. I won't allow him to be pushed into a potentially harmful situation that he doesn't have a say in or no prior knowledge of, again."
"Your protection?" Scoffed the insolent man barked with a laugh. He was more annoying than the twins and twice as dense. "You about had him killed several times over for your own gain-"
"He, on his own, decided to aid our cause. For which you should be exceedingly thankful for. You're lack of bravery in facing your own race is boldly displayed in your efforts to cower behind a child. A child who had managed to stand up to complete hostiles without a twitch or the luxury of a 'shield' of his own, might I add." Ironhide smoothly interjected, interrupting without a care. "If you wish to pursue your little plan, you will need to speak with the boy and get his permission first. Be warned though, we won't allow you to bully him into being your scapegoat just so you can save your own hides."
The stunned silence was rather gratifying if Ironhide did say so himself.
Lennox and the techs didn't know whether to be horrified, or to start cracking up. The General had a mild look about him, not agreeing with, but certainly not denying the Weapon's Specialist's statement. The President looked affronted and the Secretary of State seemed ready to explode.
"I will be throwing my vote in with Ironhide, gentlemen." The General commented lightly as he eyed the other men on the screen, "We owe the Autobots much, and should respect their decision."
"Wait one min-" When would that man learn to shut up?
"They are our allies, Mr. Secretary, and should be treated as such." Morshower was getting tired of playing word games with this man.
The Secretary sputtered in anger for a moment before the President decided to speak, "I think a recess is in order for us to consider everything that has been discussed." -Fought over more like it- "We will continue this brain storming session soon and hopefully in person. Major Lennox, would you pass the message on to Mr. Witwicky? I would like to be able to speak with him as soon as we can get him back to the states."
"Of course, Mr. President." The Major agreed politely.
Nodding his thanks, the men said their-strained- goodbyes and cut the connection.
Lennox sighed loudly before sagging against the guard rail facing Ironhide. "That Secretary Gates is a pain in the ass to deal with."
"They wish to use Sam."
It was a statement, not a question.
Dropping his eyes from the giant mech, Lennox exhaled. "It's…complicated. More so than it should be."
The weapon's specialist just waited in dead silence.
Rubbing a tired hand over his face, Lennox paused to think for a second before responding. "An explanation. They need someone to be a flagship for this little war of ours and Sam is a perfect pick simply because he was there, and his image had been splashed across the sphere and he's a just a simple civilian teenager." Shaking his head, the Major made for the latter to climb down. "I believe you called them on it though. They want someone to cower behind when the backlash hits, which it already has. And since Sam is just an average Joe in the crowd without a title or an official affiliation to someone, he can be sacrificed in their eyes if the dealings go sour."
"That's an unacceptable solution, Major." Ironhide rumbled disapprovingly.
"That's what the General and I have been fighting against since the moment we boarded the ship. I don't want the kid anywhere near those cut throats either, but there's little I can do without removing myself from my current position, and I'm more useful where I am than if I were court marshaled or dishonorably discharged." Lennox hated the spot he currently found himself. Sticking up for someone like Sam was near impossible when one is at the bottom of the pecking order. "I'm counting on the Brass sticking up for and recognizing Sam's sacrifices, but if they fall through, we're going to find ourselves backed quickly into a corner."
"The boy needs to be protected, regardless of how it's accomplished." Ironhide carefully turned to leave the hangar. "Optimus needs to be made aware of what's going on…so does Sam."
Nodding, Lennox tiredly started to job to keep pace with of the stocky black mech's clicking gate as they headed for the Med Hangar where Optimus and the other Autobot's were currently parked, after being evicted by the Major's longwinded phone call.
"This sucks." Lennox bitterly commented into the warm afternoon air. "I was hoping the world would keep for a while longer so we could relax a bit."
"Hn."
Sam could be found moseying about the surprisingly large military base in the company of the only civilian members on the entire island. His parents hovered and fussed, Mikaela snuggled and teased, Simmons grumbled and reminisced, and Leo complained loudly about being hungry.
"I wasn't allowed breakfast at all because someone had a fit over the misplacement of her precious boyfriend."
Raising an eyebrow at the disgruntled college student, Mikaela rolled her eyes, "Aww, poor bay-bee." She cooed in his direction. "I didn't realize how sensitive you'd be to missing your snack time."
"No respect." Leo threw his hands up in exasperation. "Your girlfriend is in serious need for some mannerism lessons, Sam."
Sam looked down at the dark brunette wrapped around his arm "You think so? I thought she was behaving much better than normal."
"Sam!"
Leo and Simmons quickly swallowed their ill-concealed snickers as Mikaela turned a frosty scowl in their direction. Moving over a few feet more, they proceed to continue their merriment in safety.
Sam grinned as he bumped her with his shoulder to reclaim her attention. "It's nice here." He commented softly, so as to not be overheard.
Mikaela hummed noncommittally. What would have been a calendar shot, million dollar view was marred by distant metal ships skirting back forth under the Thomas the Tank Engine blue skies that were liberally blotched with fluffy cloud banks. The rolling rumbles of jet engines blasting off to who knew where every few minutes like clock work wasn't winning any points with her either. "I suppose you could say that."
"I wasn't exactly talking about the scenery, but yeah, that's kinda nice too."
Shifting her grip, she hugged his arm to her while she turned to rest her chin on his shoulder, "What did you mean?"
Sam had a far away look in his eyes that hadn't been there moments ago, but Mikaela waited for him to pick up where he left off in his own time. Watching him, she couldn't help but be struck by the picture he made. The mid-morning sun glittering off the aquamarine water painted a mosaic of heavenly colors that danced behind him, had her war worn Sam looking more rugged then she had ever remembered seeing him. Then again, he'd been looking infinitely more…studdly since this whole escapade began.
Sam wasn't handsome in the more traditional sense of the word. He was no sports star. He didn't have muscles on his muscles like most of the ape-like losers that she had always managed to attract (but he had gained enough to leap the line from scrawny to 'hello, sir!'). His nose was a little too large for his face and his chin wasn't as strong as it could have been, but when you stepped back and looked at him, his features worked to mask his 'imperfections' and create a pleasing visual image that firmly dabbled in the cute to good-looking range.
Pursing her lips a little as she continued to study him, Mikaela tried to put her finger on just what made girls take second and third looks. He didn't seem to really notice unless they came up to him, but she was well aware of every one of them every time they stepped out. She would have honestly felt a little threatened if it wasn't for his seemingly oblivious state of consciousness towards all female attention except hers. A little itch in her memory had the whole college dorm incident coming to the forefront and she had to bite back a scowl and force down the little bit of doubt that started to sprout in her mind.
He was insanely loyal…he had been set up.
This she had to tell herself over and over.
Sam wasn't a player. He honestly loved her…she could overlook that one blunder. She was bigger than that. Although she would bring it up from time to time to harass him if he was ever being dicky.
He turned to look at her as if sensing her heated gaze. "I actually meant this." He gestured with his free hand to the space in-between and around them. "Just being here with you…our friends…" He trailed off a little, as if his thought pattern had blanked unexpectedly, leaving an adorably confused look on his face.
Or it could be because Sam was just an overall nice, likeable guy that the ladies sensed. He wasn't a tool or a frat boy wannabe. He didn't do the normal 'young and wild' thing with the drinking and near non-stop partying that guys his age normally reveled in. He cared, and loved, without hesitation and said the sweetest things because he actually believed them. And to think, she finally won the lottery in men, and had nearly lost him…
"Oh, Sam…" she sighed as she slipped under his arm to snuggle gently against his still tender and bruised ribs. "I love you." She said thickly.
He wrapped his arm around her waste and pulled her tight against him without any regard for his battered body. "I love you too." He murmured by her ear, a note of surprise in his voice. "Mikaela? Is something-"
The loud bleating of a car alarm startled the group badly, enough so that Leo and Simmons were in a half crouch. Sam was rubbing his side, having jerked something. He turned expecting 'Bee to be churning up the beach, but was surprised to see Ratchet blazing toward them. Surprise quickly morphed to panic. Ratchet refused to leave Optimus earlier. What could have happened to change that? What happened to Optimus?
"Ratchet!" Sam called as he broke away from the group and ran to meet the slowing rescue Hummer. "Ratchet, is it Optimus?"
If Optimus died again…
If they lost him…
The Autobot medic skidded to a halt and Sam almost slammed into the vehicle's front grating in an effort to stop. "Ratchet? What's wrong? Optimus, is he okay?" He fored off quickly as he used the large Hummer's hood and side to help hold him up as he hustled around to the driver's side.
"Easy Sam," Ratchet's steady voice called through the speakers in the cab. Even with the window rolled down, Sam yanked the door open to here better. "I'm here to collect you. Optimus has requested a meeting."
Exhaling loudly, Sam sagged and dropped his head onto the arm that propped the driver's door ajar. "Man, Ratchet, you sure know how to scare the crap outta me."
"You seem anxious, Sam. Are you well?" A bombardment of lasers flashed across the slouched teen, and Sam could only groan.
"I'm fine, Ratchet! You just freaked me out. I thought something had happened to Optimus…" he trailed off.
"Optimus is in stable stasis, Samuel. You need not worry." The hummer responded. "However, I do need you to come along with me."
Leo and Simmons reached them first, but it was Mikaela who barreled through the guys, that asked. "What's wrong? Is it Optimus?"
Sam straightened up, already shaking his head. "He's fine, Optimus is fine." He quickly said.
"So what was with the dramatic entrance?" Simmons snapped, giving away the fact that he actually cared about the Non-biologic alien leader, despite normally appearing otherwise.
"Sam needs to come with me, for a meeting with Optimus." Ratchet's voice rumbled around them.
"Why?" Leo huffed shuffling over a little to allow Sam's mother and father into their circle around the Autobot and boy in question.
Ratchet released a 'sigh' from his vents. "Apparently, Ironhide and the Major had a meeting with your American President and a few advisors earlier." The medic relayed, barely contain the contempt in his voice. Sam knew for a fact that Ratchet, while good at politics, had very little patience for them.
"And?" Sam's father asked when the medic trailed off. "What does this have to do with my son?"
The Hummer shifted its weight, and Sam felt a chill race up and down his spine.
"The President of your America, wants to talk with Sam" the medic reported in a clipped, heated tone.
Sam swallowed a lump.
"Why, Ratchet?" Mikaela snapped.
"To discuss the boy's future."
Oh balls! We be movin' folks!