Alien By Perspective

"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race" – H.G Wells

Chapter 3

The journey to Tranquillity was tiring to me; it had taken 17 hours, with only one stop at a refuel station that smelt heavily of watered down gas, peeling paint and piss. Apparently, normal gas isn't too good for my engines. I was clumsy enough trying to make my holoform pump some into me, and then I had to deal with the clumping slush that was giving me what I guess was the Cybertronian equivalent of indigestion. While my energon readings had lowered, it seems that I can convert this more primitive form of fuel to energy, with some nasty side effects. I hoped that I would find the Autobots soon, so that I could consume what I was built for, and not suffer from something so miserly.

It was actually a really nice ride after entering Nevada, which was all desert dust and acrid coloured skies. Soon the roads became busier when I passed into the highway by Mission City, but after another hour or so, I started to pass into the suburban towns. Tranquillity was easily the nicest. The residents had made a valiant effort of planting hundreds of trees, and there was naturally more vegetation as well. Most of the houses were idealistic looking, with wooden arched doorways and emerald green lawns. The town centre itself drew my attention; I hadn't really spent much time in domesticated communities, and the open doored coffee shops, fountains and parks were so simplistically lovely.

Quite frankly, I blame me being at peace here on growing old.

Facebook yielded me more information on Samuel Witwicky. 19 years old, in his final year of college at Princeton University; however, being that it was half way through the summer holiday, my best bet would that he would be at home with Judy and Ron Witwicky, married for 23 years. He was a tanned, dark haired boy with matching brown eyes that gazed back at you in my profile picture; an equally tanned girl with a large smile had her arms around her face as her black bangs fell slightly into his face. This, I assumed was the girl he was dating, named Mikaela Banes. They had been together for a few years, so I knew it was possible that she knew all about the Autobots as well; if the Witwickys held no answers, then the auto shop her family owned in the same town would be my next stop.

I felt the urge to walk around people for a moment, to get accustomed to this body before trying to interact with my targets. Déjà vu was creeping up on me; I remembered the smells of pastries, the grinding of walking on pavements, however my view as an infant was significantly lower. Along the long drive that had me wanting to shoot at every granny driver on the road, but I also gave me time to think. Various trivia bounced around my brain, as well as the time to mess about with my holoform and other functions.

Ironically, once I viewed under the helmet, I noticed that the holoform was an exact replica of my old body. It was…I couldn't really grasp the freakishness of it to be honest. It was comforting, and unnerving. In a way, becoming a Cybertronian had given me the best of both worlds. Even if I hadn't particularly cared whether I was human or not, I had just spent my entire life being one. As a matter of fact, the familiarity was nice, thank you very much.

Rather than keep the automated black, full body biker suit that my holoform had been in before, I decided I might as well revert back to what I usually wore, with some adjustments that didn't shout 'off-planetary'. My 'work' suit was essentially a get up of dark green, almost black leather and fabric like armour, extremely flexible and breathable. A soft fabric hood hangs around a thin visor that's moulded into my brow and nose bridge structure. The gloves are fingerless and rough from long usage, as well as a burnt red colour and frayed. A thick belt holds up the skin hugging leggings, clamped down and bulky in all its pocketed glory. My top is like that of a thermal, the light plating fitting around my chest so that the waist isn't restricted. The boots are worn and dog-eared, nothing special about them but for the gravity compressors underneath the rubbery soles. They could pass for combat boots. I don't modify much; the visor like glasses are pushed into my hair and the hood is down; for the hell of it, I add a red liner around the seems of my suit, and add steel caps on my toes, knees, elbows and knuckles. I've always wanted steel-toed boots.

It was calming in the town centre; laughter, snippets of conversation, proving that I was truly on Earth. I sat on a street bench, whose handles had a row of pansies planted in. They were soft, like most other native flowers I had touched.

After a while, I walked into a local café, where most customers were clutching books and crème lattes, a few BLTs in sight as well.

A lanky teen asked what I wanted, his fashionably dyed silver hair glinting in the light.

"Um, coffee?"

He paused at pressing button on the cashier screen, to give me a dubious look. "You got a preference…?"

Great, cover cracking already. Good job 'Lanta, real smooth. I desperately looked around, and spotted a customer retrieve a large cup that held a black liquid with wisps of frothing gold swirl around the top in abandon. My tongue tingled its approval. "Whatever that is, I'll have."

"Okay…A large black with a shot of ginger." He gave a lopsided smile, showing that my helplessness was apparently cute to him. After tapping at the screen a little more, he said, "Do you want that to go?"

At least I knew what that meant. "Yeah. Please."

"That'll be…$3.50 please."

God I felt like an idiot, especially since the idiot serving me found it so funny. After making a show of pulling out my wallet, I pulled out my holoform money and handed it to him. I felt no guilt that it would disappear when my holoform did.

Rogue ex-bounty hunter, remember?

Grumbling, I walked out of the café and made my way back to my bench. I tentatively brought the drink to my lips, pausing to deeply inhale the blend. God, it was heaven! So thick, rich and dark! I groaned audibly when I drank it. Who the hell knew humans could make something so gooood!

A few passer-bys looked at me oddly as I practically inhaled the drink, a Cheshire grin hanging from my face. Holy shit, I really wanted more. I even started walking back to the café, but then stopped myself and sighed. As much as I wanted to spend the entire day exploring, I needed to find the Witwickys, and ultimately, the Autobots. A rush of excitement hit me; I was going to meet the Cybertronians, my kin. That was all I needed to convince me to turn around and walk my holoform back to my true frame. With a colossal snarl from my engine, a ripped away from the curb and follow the route to the Witwicky's residence, internally smirking with pride at the gasps and squeals that came from onlookers.

As she turned into the street, her scanners relayed a message to Atalanta, telling her that a Cybertronian signature was close by. Her engine revved with anticipation. This was it; she was going to meet one! Suddenly, Atalanta felt a wave of nerves wash over her; if she could detect the Cybertronian, then they most certainly could detect her. Should she park outside and wait for them introduce themselves? She grimaced at that idea; most likely, they would consider her a hostile; she would need to be cautious to show her passiveness quickly, just in case they were trigger-happy.

She noted that this area was filled with wealthier houses, the effort of maintenance noticeable, as well as the competitive nature of neighbouring gardens. The Witwicky's residence was slightly out of view because the drive way led you behind a large gathering of evergreen trees, surrounding the property. The house itself was constructed of dark wood and grey brick, with a well-kept expanse of grass and a porch. There was also a balcony and various colourful creepers growing around it, as well as delicate ornaments distributed across the garden. Atalanta tuned in her audios, noting that someone was inside the house. The Cybertronian signature originated in an extension of the house that was only one floor high, with two large wooden doors holding it closed.

Tentatively, Atalanta rolled to the end of the driveway, stopping 3 metres away from the garage door. Somehow, even if you didn't factor in logic, she knew that the bot inside was aware of her proximity. Like a cowboy standoff, each waited tensely for the next move.

Oh fuck this!

Atalanta growled with impatience, and as loud as she could, revved her engine like a snarling beast. The explosion of air from her vents rattled the stones on the concrete, and the nearby potted plants bent away with the air. She let her engine run as she waited for her reply. Finally, after a pregnant pause, a smoother, but still powerful rev answered her from the confines of the garage.

Then suddenly, her HUD screen flashed as her communications channel opened, her COM link receiving its first message from an unknown frequency.

: A neutral, huh?

Atalanta sagged with relief that she hadn't been attacked full out yet. Knowing of the two fractions, she could easily guess what neutral meant.

: You betcha'. My names' Atalanta, and I'm looking for the Autobots. Think you can help me out?

The same light and cheery vocals replied instantly, the loud chirping on the other side of the door revealing his excitement.

: I think so. My designation is Bumblebee, Autobot scout.

: Do you mind if I open the door?

A pause followed her message, before Bumblebee replied in a slightly suspicious tone.

: I got it. Step back.

To my surprise, instead of activating his holoform, the door was unlocked and pushed open by a black and sunny yellow hand, the mech it was attached to in the centre of the room. His entire bodywork was a blend of these two colours, with the silver and grey protoform underneath peaking through. His helm was covered by a yellow helmet with a thick, dipping chevron and a symmetrical chin cap that covered where his mouth would be. A cross hatching of gratings over a circular speaker was placed where his mouth would be. His chassis armour was made up of the front of the car he transformed into. While a pair of wheels acted as extra shoulder blade protection, other made up the heel of his feet. Thinner thighs and upper arms were covered in a lighter black plating, as well as his waist.

Atalanta transformed smoothly, her vain side coming out as she took her time to show off her transformation sequence. She stood up just outside the doors, back straight and hands on her hips, her tail curling lazily around her left leg. His large, rotating blue optics lit up the youthful planes of his face, his shock evident even without a mouth.

: You're a…femme!?

"Is that a problem?" Atalanta spoke with a smirk. "Is there room for one more, or do you want to come out to say hi?"

After the house had been turned into a warzone by the Allspark shard turning the electrical appliances sentient and Bumblebee blasting away the supports of the house to save Sam from the mini terrors, Ron and Judy Witwicky had taken the opportunity to renovate the entire property, making use of the government taking care of all costs. Sometimes, it paid to be one of the only civilians who knew of the Autobots.

While the main building had been build as a near replica of the old house, more bushes and huge trees had been packed together around the garden that the house sat in the middle of. An extremely tall wooden fence hid most of the back garden, so that impromptu visits from the younger and bored bots could be achieved in relative secret. Judy's dream hot tub had been added by the back stone patio, and Bumblebee's garage had been upgraded so that he could easily stand up and move about, much to his relief. While Ironhide and Ratchet could barely crouch in it, and Optimus would never be able to fit, Bumblebee was small enough to relax at ease, with room to spare now as all the old tools of Ron's had been moved to a small shed at the back of the property.

Bumblebee couldn't believe it.

In front of him right now, was a Primus forsaken femme with a giant, dinosaur like tail! If it weren't for the fact that she had spoken so well, he would've assumed that she was a dinobot, or more likely a predacon; but considering that he had never heard of one that was female or even neutral, he knew that that couldn't be true.

She practically had an aura of danger, with sharp edges all around her armour. Bumblebee had never seen a femme like this; most femmes, even military built ones like Chromia or Elita were made up of smooth, interlocking armour with soft paints and a lighter frame. While this femme had an hourglass frame that was making Bee's crotch plating heat up, she was made up of pure muscle, and her paintjob was a lethal looking grey. Her helm armour was miniscule, like a headband, and she actually had flexible, long curls of hair like a human! The wires themselves looked extremely soft, like the metal fur of Cybertron's wildlife, especially the Cyberwolves.

If it wasn't for her blue optics, he would've have assumed that she was a Decepticon. Her tail was now swinging behind her, and her dark lip plates wore a friendly, wide smirk. Bee's cooling vents decided at that moment to turn on loudly, and if he had been in his holoform, he knew it would be blushing badly.

Bumblebee shook his head and blinked a few times at Atalanta when she spoke. He whirred in confusion, apologetically asking her to repeat it, and she did so with amusement sparking in her eyes.

: Y-Yes! Come in!

Atalanta walked into the garage and held out her hand to shake his. Eagerly, he did so, a stupid grin shining through his eyes.

"So, how long will the others be? Or are you going to take me there?" She inquired.

Bumblebee chirped, looking bashful now that he'd been caught. Atalanta laughed and shook her head. "Don't worry, I would've done the same."

: Sorry, you know, standard procedure. A few bots are en route to our location now.

She cocked her head when he answered, and Bumblebee could help but feel like he had been upgraded to his teenage frame again. "Why are you only answering through the com links?"

: Wha-oh! My vocal cords are damaged. Our CMO Ratchet is still working on it, but the materials needed are hard to obtain on Earth, and he usually is really busy with battle injuries and such.

Atalanta grimaced. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked, you probably get that a lot." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chevron and head.

: You have no idea!

She laughed. This bot certainly was perky, and so cute! Not all of the mechs were like this, were they? Atalanta remembered his part so far as Sam Witwicky's guardian fairly easily, so it made sense that he would be the one on site. Bumblebee seemed that he would be 18 or 19 in human years, or an extremely childish young adult. She absently thought about him as a soldier; her gut twisted a little. Sure, she had been fighting for as long as she could remember, but that was only for herself, not because of a duty to your goddamn planet!

: You know, I've seen a femme like you before. I mean, you're like, tall! And the err, tail's different as well.

She chuckled. Definitely a teenager. "Yeah, my CNA's a little freaky. Am I tall for a femme?"

: Well, most are under my height or the same, I guess. How tall are you?!

Atalanta laughed at his begrudging expression. He truly was easy to read. "Over 20 foot, I think."

: That's…really unfair. So how long have you been on Earth?

Atalanta briefly opened the log that she'd been keeping in her HUD. "Just under a day. I landed in some forest, luckily not too far away. I have to say though, humans as so fucking slow!"

: That's weird…I would've thought that you'd been here a while; I mean, you seem to know a lot about Earth talk and customs.

Atalanta noticed how his frame had tensed once again. Ever the soldier she thought. Her best policy here would be to be as honest as possible without sounding like a loon. "I've been here before, lets just say."

: Really.

She turned a hard glare at him. "You calling me a liar?"

Bumblebee fought the urge to look away from those optics.

: I think you're being vague on purpose, femme.

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Look, I know that you don't trust me, which is frankly comforting; I'm glad I'm not going to the side that would train their scouts that badly. My past is…complicated, and I'd rather explain that to your Prime. You can look in my processor and everything, I'm not lying and I genuinely don't mean you any harm, and not your human allies either."

Idiot! Atalanta thought as she saw the clasps on Bumblebee's wrists open, his cannons coming onto standby. Bring up his role as a guardian while you're at his house, why don't you?

: What do you mean by that?! And how did you know about the Witwicky's if you only landed yesterday?

She held up her hands in surrender. "I'm really sorry, but if I tell you now, you'll think I'm lying and shoot my spark out, okay? I'm not here to hurt your charge, I just didn't know how to contact the Autobots without alerting the Decepticons as well, and this was my best lead."

Just as Bumblebee was about to answer, the sound of approaching vehicles made them turn. A bike and two cars sat in the driveway, all three with bright Autobot tattoos on the paintwork. The bike was a Ducati 848 with a violent magenta colour and Cybertronian glyphs worked into the custom paintjob. Next to it was a red Dodge challenger with a set of bullhorns on the bonnet of the car, and behind them a blue Ford Gt-40 with white racing stripes.

Bumble gestured for Atalanta to move, and she did so, trying to keep a neutral face even though her nerves were crackling. She had the horrible feeling of being trapped, and had to remind herself that these were the ones who wanted to save sentient beings.

A feminine voice from the motorcycle cut through the silence. "Alright bot, you're going to have to transform and follow us. Any funny business and we'll offline you faster than you can transform, you got it?"

Atalanta nodded. "I understand. I'm not here to start something." She transformed quickly and rolled forward to indicate that she was ready.

The motorcycle blinked her lights and then backed up to turn. "Ok. Bee, you take the rear, Cliff and Blue, take her sides while I'll lead. You got that, neutral?"

"Clear as day."

"Autobots, roll out."

Voila! The Autobots meet Atalanta! Well, some of them, anyway. So it's not the best of hellos, but what can you expect, eh?

Another AU note of sorts. For the biker femmes, I'd rather base the on their two legged models, rather than the wheel balancing type. Also, I've decided to make them taller, for example, Arcee would be a tiny bit small than Bee, while Chromia and Elita would be a bit taller as more mature and military build femmes, especially 'Mia. Moonracer is going to be portrayed as a very sweet femme (apart from when she's throwing wrenches back at Ratchet!) so to match that, she's going to be unusually small and reach Bee's chassis.

Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think!

Love,

Renzin ox