Lessons in Exile

Chapter 2

It had been a pretty sucky couple of weeks for Daniel. Well, most parts of it. It was nice that he'd been yanked from the middle of grad school and immediately given a job with the government. When he'd gotten the call, he hadn't questioned it in the least. Who cared what they wanted from him- It was the freakin' government! Maggie and Rob had been ecstatic. Sure, it paid chump change for the long hours they put in but it would sure as hell look killer on his resume.

Then, just as suddenly, he'd been handed a supplemental check and herded out the door with a brief handshake and a thank-you-kindly. No explanations, no offers to continue somewhere within the system…none of the things he'd been expecting at all. Except for Maggie. Maggie gave them an apologetic look, told them she'd see them in a few weeks, and saw them back to their planes. Maggie was staying in Washington for a while. Maggie had a job. Maggie knew exactly what was going on.

Daniel, Danny-boy as Rob called him, was not. And he didn't like it at all. He was okay with not being given a job, but to not be given any answers as to what he'd been working on in the first place? The military had brushed it off, said it was a "strange anomaly". Strange anomaly his poor tech-analyst ass. If it'd been an anomaly, the trained-within-an-inch-of-their-lives analysts the government had working for them would've figured that out within a few hours at most and there would've been no need to call in so many different analysts from so many different specialties: as if they were covering all of their bases. In short – they were flying blind.

So it'd been something serious, something big. And Daniel felt gypped for not knowing what.

That had found him holed up in his little crappy dorm room surrounded by wires and USB plug-in devices, smoking for breakfast while he tried to hack Maggie's files. There wasn't much in there that was incrementing – nothing he could even laugh about later. Until he found the file marked: NBE 2.

Well. So that's what'd happened. His eyes wide open, he'd rocked back in the chair to take it all in. An alien robot from another planet – if it'd been anyone but Maggie he would've laughed in their face. But it all matched up with the military's paranoia…so it had to be true.

He wrote about it on his blog. No one read it, he was sure, but he wanted to vent his frustration somewhere. He'd made it snarky, bitter, all of the things he felt for being left out of the goddamned loop…and three days later, he'd gotten the call.

The French apparently treated their people right. They'd been more than willing to pay up for all that he knew, provided he take down his blog and never breathe a word of it to anyone again. From the way his bank account had blossomed overnight, he would've been willing to whore himself out as the personal ass slave to any Frenchman on the planet - much less take down a journal that virtually no one read. He provided the middleman with everything he knew, the middleman gave it to some politician, and in one business day Daniel was a rich, rich man.

He looked down at the blonde girl petting his thigh under his Armani suit and grinned, sipping his cocktail. Life didn't get any better than this, he thought. Luck was a Lady, and that was a fact.

If you'd asked him if he felt guilty, he would've laughed in your face and paid you a fifty for the joke.

---

In the time he spent in the Witwicky driveway, Bumblebee made all kinds of interesting discoveries about humans from their primitive, yet informative World Wide Web. He read an awful lot of pages on the database of human youths known as "Myspace", attempting to learn the teenage vernacular. He was, he somewhat grudgingly admitted to Sam, the youngest of the first troop of Autobots sent here to Earth. In a ratio of comparative years, he was only a few Earth years older than Sam himself. It was a joy to learn that his best friends from Cybertron, Hotshot and the twins Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, would be part of the next troop arriving on Earth within the week. However, as much as he'd missed their company, he was more interested in learning about human youth than in how the youth of Cybertron had changed in his absence.

He talked to people in "chats", played a mysterious online game called "Chuzzle" and owned a Uni and two Aichas on the website Neopets. He could "lol" and "brb" and he was even starting to grasp the concept of "omg"; he knew the names of all American presidents, how to make an excellent cheese crepe and even the right time to plant begonias in the backyard. He could calculate trajectories of basketballs, could make logical predictions in NASCAR and knew the strategies Franklin Roosevelt had used to pull America out of the Depression. He knew that Sawyer's name was really James Ford and that he secretly loved Kate, knew that someone always had to be the Weakest Link, and when it was wise to make a Deal with the banker. He knew so many small little idiosyncrasies of the human race…but it was all useless.

Nothing could explain to him why Sam's eyes were brown, but sometimes when he smiled they turned almost mossy green. Or why he worried at his lower lip when he was thinking until it turned glossy and red. Why he had what Bumblebee had read was described as a 'pirate smile' but neither of his parents shared this trait. Why he liked blue but always wore brown, why he listened to one band on repeat for days but often didn't notice if he lost the CD, or why he was good in English and bad in History. Most of all, neither Wikipedia nor Yahoo nor Google could explain to him why Sam said he 'loved' ice cream but also 'loved' his mother.

That was what Bumblebee could never really find any solid information on: the human emotion 'love'. Humans were so contradictory with everything they did, throwing words around until the meanings were as mixed up as the emotions they described. Nothing could be simple, nothing could be clear.

Most of all, this question kept Bumblebee occupied in the driveway while the source of his ponderings snored in the bedroom upstairs. Bumblebee could hear him through the window every night, as the arid Nevada breeze teased his curtains, and inwardly he wondered why he really cared.

It was scientific, he told himself. Reconnaissance for the other Autobots, since that was what he did best. He was merely gathering information so that they all might integrate as smoothly and peacefully as possible.

But if there was one thing that machines were bad at, even autonomous sentient nano-organic ones from different worlds, it was lying. So Bumblebee did something only he would ever know about: wrote the truth down, saved it as a file in the deepest recesses of his CPU, and promised himself not to think of it again. It was there, it was acknowledged, and that was all that needed to be done. To use a human phrase, Que sera, sera.

So he pulled up Netflix online, bypassed their security codes, and spent the remainder of the night watching Casablanca, waiting for his human to wake up and smile at him, providing him with new questions to ponder over in the infinite nights to come.

---

Stakeouts were long, boring processes and Gerard wasn't thrilled in the least that he had to share his time with two other goons paid for by Duquesne's paranoia. He stared forward through the rain, trying very hard to ignore the voices in his head.

"Gerry? Gerry, you listening? Gerrrrr-rrryyyy…"

He ground his teeth. Especially when one of those goons was an uppity tomboy ragamuffin of an annoyingly young fifteen years old.

"Remind me," he droned. "Why are you here?"

"Because," her irritatingly high-pitched voice squeaked over the Bluetooth. "I'm the best hacker you'll ever meet, and Duquesne wanted-"

"No, in a grander sense. Why are you here?"

"Ha ha, very funny." Just to be a brat, Max sent a burst of static into his ear. He gripped it and cussed as she laughed.

"Damn kid sonofa-"

"Hey, boss, we got movement." Gerard shut up as the other guy, Didier, came over the line in his deep, unoffending baritone. Gerard snapped his head around and looked at the door. Sure enough, the kid was clamoring down the steps, turning the corner to climb into his Camaro.

"Alright, kids, lock on to his signal. I'm on my way to get you; Our client wants decisive action tonight. Try to keep it in one piece if you can. And for god's sake, Maxine, don't talk to me unless it's to tell me something important."

"You're the light of my life, Gerard."

He couldn't think of words strong enough to respond to her, so he just clenched his teeth and didn't say a thing.

---

Sam clamored down the steps of his house, tugging his jacket on as he ran. In his mouth he still had half a hot dog, hastily having eaten the other half in one huge bite. Bumblebee hated when he ate inside of him, which Sam found kind of vain and fussy although guessed he couldn't really judge, but this was a food emergency. He had about two minutes to get to Mikaela's house before he was late for the umpteenth time this week and he was absolutely starving. He slammed Bee's door harder than he should have and swallowed.

"Sorry, buddy."

Bee's engine started and he backed out of the driveway as Sam buckled his seatbelt. "You should not eat like that, Sam. It's bad for you."

Sam made a face at the dashboard. "Thanks, mom. I'll file that away for later."

"You'll shoot your eye out!" the radio chirped at him, and he laughed.

"Just get us to Mikaela's ASAP, okay? She's already gonna murder me as it is."

Bumblebee found that he was surprisingly reluctant to comply. He didn't say much of anything as they drove out of Sam's community, obeying the ridiculous 15 mile an hour speed limit. Sam finished his hot dog and wiped his hands on his jacket.

"You…have not been out on a date with Mikaela in some time, Sam," Bee said in what he hoped was a conversational voice.

"Yeah," Sam sighed and reclined his seat, not really in the mood that night to drive. "She…it's…I dunno. I love hanging out with her, she's an awesome girl, but…you know, she's kinda getting impatient with me."

Bee was respectfully silent, waiting for Sam to continue. He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I guess…I mean, we went through a lot together, but…that doesn't mean that we have to get married and everything, right?"

"No logical equations exist to support that scenario, no."

Sam grinned ruefully and scratched his nose. "Yeah, that's what I said. But she's a girl, she wants some prince to come protect her and all I seem to be able to do is drag her into trouble with national security and level up her Warlock in WOW."

Bumblebee turned this over thoughtfully. "Perhaps…" he said slowly, "It would be better for you to remain…friends?"

"I guess…we'll just have to see," Sam replied, chewing his lip. "Put on some cruising music, Bee, you're depressing me."

"I'm sorry, Sam," and the radio came to life, playing Kanye West. Pleased, Sam tapped his fingers in time to "Stronger" while Bumblebee kept quiet, thinking to himself.

Mikaela, as usual, looked fabulous. No matter what Sam thought of their relationship, he never ceased to be amazed with how freaking gorgeous Mikaela really was. She was wearing jeans, just as she always did, paired with a red v-neck t-shirt – a simple outfit that Mikaela made look like a million bucks. He knew he was grinning like a dork when she slid in next to him and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek.

"Hey, handsome." She grinned and patted the dashboard, something neither human found strange anymore. "Hiya, Bee!"

"Hello, Mikaela," Bumblebee said, shutting his own door by himself. "My sensors tell me that you are releasing a new chemical scent. It is registering as very pleasant."

Both occupants sat in silence for half a second, translating that into English, before they both laughed. "Aww, thanks, Bee," Mikaela chuckled. "It's a new perfume. I appreciate the compliment, but what did I tell you about speaking normal English if you guys are going to be living here?"

Bee flashed his seatbelt sign at her, and she obediently clicked the belt into place. "Apologies, the slang of your youth is not something that our translators were programmed to speak. I have been working on it."

Sam, smiling at his best friend, rapped teasingly on the radio with a knuckle. "C'mon, you mean to tell me that XM satellite radio speaks perfect English? Try – 'You smell nice, Mikaela. Is that a new perfume?'"

Bumblebee pulled away from the curve, setting a course for the local cinema. "You smell nice, Mikaela. Is that a new perfume?" He paused for a few seconds before attempting to further the conversation on his own. "It is bitchin'."

There was dead silence. Then hysterical laughter from the two teens. Bumblebee made a distinctly annoyed noise.

"That was great, Bee. Keep it up. In fact, tell that to Optimus. Jazz would've loved it," Mikaela said affectionately. The mood shifted, not to depression but a quiet acceptance and content that they all felt keenly because they knew that – yes, he would have.

"So, remind me again why I agreed to see Ghetto Tarantula Samurais from the Outer Rings of Mars?" Mikaela asked, leaning against Sam's shoulder. He laughed and adjusted his grip, putting his arm around her.

"Because, it's going to be a complete classic. We want to say that we were there the night it opened to raucous applause and Guinness Record box office sales," he said, nodding sagely.

"I was wrong, I realized now that I was wrong…"

"Hey, you keep your bumper outta this." Sam kicked lightly at the door and heard Bumblebee chuckle.

As they pulled off the main strip of road they passed a grocery store where a Nissan Sentra had been waiting for them. It turned right out of the parking lot to follow them.

"Got them," the driver said. In the passenger seat, a girl dressed all in black, her spiky hair shoved under a baseball cap, typed away on a laptop.

"All set, Deeds?" she asked into her Bluetooth.

"Affirmative. Alleyway on 5th and Broad. Make sure they get here, and I'll be in position."

"Ten four," Max said cheerfully. "Ready, Gerry?"

"Don't call me that," Gerard murmured, and held up his gun.

"You know, I don't think any movie with the word 'Samurai' in it automatically qualifies as-"

The gunshots surprised all three of them. Bumblebee immediately adjusted his momentum, careening around a corner on two tires like no earth vehicle should be able to do. Sam looked back over his shoulder to see two people pointing guns at them through the back window.

"Bee, there are guys shooting at us! Three of them! They're right behind us!"

Mikaela gripped her seat. "What did you do now?"

"I don't know!" Sam protested. "They're not Decepticons! I dunno why regular people would want to shoot at us!"

"Hold on," Bumblebee commanded, coming to an abrupt halt three blocks from an alleyway. His doors flew open and his seats tilted up, depositing his passengers outside. "Go! Into the alley! Run and take cover, I'll call you when it's safe!"

They didn't need to be told twice. Both humans were on their feet running, making it to the alley and nearly falling over when they were met face to face with another, taller man pointing a gun straight at Sam's forehead. Sam swallowed, sweat working down his collar as he squeezed his eyes closed.

Nothing happened.

When he opened his eyes again, the man was pointing the gun down the street instead- straight at Bumblebee. He shot once to get his attention. The Camaro swung around when he heard Sam yell his name.

The bullet lodged itself into one of his doors. Bumblebee completed his turn in time to see the man point the gun at Sam once more.

"Bee! Bee look out! They-" His words were cut off by the gun being fired and his howl of pain. Mikaela screamed and tried to fling herself at the man as Sam crumpled to the ground. He threw her off and leveled the gun at Sam, but turned to look straight at Bumblebee as he did so. He smirked.

Bee's radios nearly short-circuited with the burst of ear-splitting electronic noise they blared, his tires skidding on the pavement and sending up dust as he rushed to Sam's side.

"Bee, don't, he'll-!" The man cocked the gun and moved his aim from Sam's bleeding shoulder to his head. Two seconds later, three things happened. Mikaela knocked the man's arm so that the gunshot fired out into the street. Sam managed to roll out of the way to the left, and Bumblebee's front fender slammed the man with the gun into the brick wall of the building forming part of the alley. His engines reversed, tires squealing as he backed up and slammed into him again. His radios were still blasting frantic noises, but in Sam's mind he understood.

Leave. Him. ALONE!

The man bent limply over Bumblebee's hood. When Bumblebee backed up, he fell to the ground, dirty and unconscious. By that time, they heard the approaching rumble of the two other gunmen's car. Mikaela looked behind her in time to duck the first bullet, which bent Bee's right mirror. Hastily she scrambled to her feet, dragging the half-unconscious, bleeding Sam into Bumblebee's passenger seat.

"Get him outta here, Bee!"

"Sam!" Bumblebee wailed as soon as Sam had collapsed into his interior. He wasted no time, peeling onto the highway and swerving to dodge more bullets. Sam panted and curled into a ball.

"Shoot it! Shoot the tires!" a man in a black jacket yelled. A flurry of shrapnel littered the ground as the two tried to pop the Camaro's tires, but within seconds it was long out of their range.

From around a corner, a police car started blasting its sirens. Immediately the shooters gathered themselves up and grabbed their bleeding companion, piling into their getaway car. They took off in pursuit of the Camaro just as the police vehicle pulled into view. It came to a sideways, screeching halt beside Mikaela and threw open its door.

"Get in," a deep, commanding voice thundered from inside. Mikaela shot a glance over her shoulder and hesitated.

"Do you want to live to see your male companion again?" The voice was decidedly more impatient this time. "GET IN!"

Her body reacted without thinking and she hastily buckled herself in as the car tore away from the curb, leaving skid marks and smoke in its wake.

When Mikaela turned to thank the driver, it was already too late. Locked in, tearing down the highway at a ridiculous speed, the only thing she could do was press herself to the window in horror.

"Barricade!"

"Hello, human," Barricade said grimly. "It's been a while."