Part 1 – From a Dying World

"I dig 'til my shovel tells a secret; swear to the Earth that I will keep it. Brush off the dirt, and let my change of heart occur."
-Earth (Sleeping at Last)

The Scout was tired.

He was tired of traveling long distances in short periods of time, a courier of scant information delivered from one stranger to another. He was tired of spending nights in camps full of Autobots whose faces and names he did not know, would never know, and dared not care about because they might all be dead tomorrow. He was tired of running from fights because the intel he carried was too precious to risk losing. He was tired of watching soldiers fall and cities burn. He was tired of seeing everyone he met as a possible traitor, as someone he could not trust with anything, because trust was how the enemy got you. You let your guard down for a second, let something slip, let someone in, and then that person you trusted turned out to be a traitor, or -perhaps worse- they were killed for information they never should have had.

But, most of all, he was tired of watching his planet crumble around him, looking on helplessly as it was slowly but inexorably destroyed bit by bit by the very ones battling for control over it. Cybertron was dying, and nobody seemed to be noticing. Nobody seemed to care. The world had gone mad, and nobody cared that it was imploding around them as the streets ran with the spilled energon of the fallen.

Not a week ago, he had gone into a POW camp, too late to save too many. They were dead, and the one who wasn't, she was broken, shattered, lost. Her partner had been murdered right in front of her, and The Scout hadn't been fast enough to stop it. He'd been too busy sulking, pitying himself. If he'd gotten there faster, the one who'd died might have lived. That one's name he knew, because the survivor had more than once cried out, calling for him, the one with whom she had shared that closest bond.

Tailgate.

That was his name. And he was dead. All because Bumblebee and Cliffjumper -Scout and Warrior respectively- hadn't moved fast enough. And Bumblebee hadn't even managed to take out the one who'd done it. The murderer had scuttled off into the shadows unscathed, and that made him angrier than anything, because he'd heard the pain in the survivor's voice.

Her name was Arcee, and she would never be the same.

Bumblebee could do nothing for her now. In fact, he knew it wasn't at all likely that he would ever see her or Cliffjumper again. That's how it worked when you were a Scout. The job was to get into places you weren't wanted, to learn things you weren't meant to know, to take things that didn't belong to you, and then to report back to your superiors. You didn't have a regular team when you were a Scout like Bumblebee, you couldn't afford the risk of exposure. Scouts worked alone, off the grid, and often only their commanding officers knew what they were doing. The worst part was being asked to spy on your own people. It wasn't in the nature of Autobots to be deceptive, but the fact that the Decepticons infiltrated their ranks, posed as Autobots or managed to blackmail them into working for the other side necessitated soldiers with skills like Bumblebee to remain impartial, to observe, to spot and eliminate traitors before they could harm the Autobot cause.

It was dangerous to trust anyone. As an Autobot, Bumblebee found that harder to take than anything else. Autobots were trusting by nature. They were honest and open. But Bumblebee could not be those things. This was war, and sacrifices had to be made. To protect and serve the Autobots to the best of his ability, Bumblebee had to give up some of the things that made him an Autobot.

The worst of it was how easy, how terribly easy, it had been to become this distrustful, vindictive being, and how hard it was to remember why this was how it had to be. The duality of silence being required, and also being his enemy was a difficult burden to bear, and Bumblebee was tired of carrying that weight of responsibility. It was too hard to maintain two separate personalities: the one that knew why he had to do this, and the one who was actually able to bear the strain of doing it.

For reasons beyond his interest or knowledge, Bumblebee had been summoned to the operational headquarters of the local branch of the Autobot military. It had been a long drive to get there from his previous posting, an exhausting epilogue to his previous mission, in itself an immediate sequel to his own time as a POW, with barely enough breathing room for a physical recovering from that trauma. Or as near a physical recovery as Bumblebee would ever be able to make. His voice had not seemed so precious to him when he'd had it, but losing it had all but crushed him.

Time was putting him back together psychologically, but he knew that he was still mentally and emotionally hemorrhaging, leaking sanity and stability from every crack in his battered armor. Too many pieces of him were broken or missing for Bumblebee to ever go back to the way he'd been. But he was healing, however slowly and painfully.

There had been a time, long ago, when a soldier as beaten as Bumblebee would be retired and sent home. Not so long ago, he would at least have been spared active duty for some time. But the Autobots were up against a wall. Their numbers were few and dropping rapidly. The war was being lost, the Decepticons were gaining ground inch by inch every minute of every day. There weren't enough Scouts left for even one of their number to go down for any length of time. It was cruel, yes, but it was an evil done by the universe itself -or the Decepticons if you wanted to look at it that way- not the Autobot commanders. For the Autobots, everything was about survival.

So, tired as he was, Bumblebee did not resent the message containing his orders. He was not bitter about the long, hard drive he'd been forced to undertake. He was not angry with the Prime who had summoned him, knowing that what few Primes were left had no time to spare. Based on how long he'd been out of touch, for all Bumblebee knew, this Prime might well be the last left standing, because the Decepticons had long targeted Primes above all others, taking insane risks at times, because the reward for them was worth the price if they could take even one Prime permanently off the battlefield.

Bumblebee knew this Prime, at least indirectly. Even without proof, Bumblebee knew this wasn't the first time Optimus Prime had asked for him by name. The missions Bee had gotten from this particular Prime weren't always the most dangerous, but often they were the most demanding and time sensitive. As a carrier of intel, Bumblebee didn't always know what his information would ultimately be used for, but he did know that he often carried intel that few Autobots -let alone Scouts- would be trusted with.

Since his capture and torture by Megatron, that had only become more true, because now the Decepticons knew him by name and by sight. They would not bother trying to torture him a second time, because they had learned that he could not be broken. It had been Megatron's intention for him to die, and if the Decepticon leader ever saw him again that was exactly what would happen. The Decepticons would never capture him again, because there was no use in capturing an Autobot that could not be broken. If they caught him, they would kill him. That meant any and all information was now and forever safe in Bumblebee's mind, permanently inaccessible to the Decepticons because they didn't understand how very close they had come to breaking him, didn't understand that he wasn't just a machine that could be rebuilt to the same specifications as before, that he was weaker now, wounded, and vulnerable (this primarily because they refused to believe it was true of themselves). Because they didn't understand that, the Decepticons could not use it to their advantage. Bumblebee preferred it that way. He would rather die than suffer again at the hands of Megatron.

The Scout drove through the smoking husks of long-abandoned cities, evacuated before the fires of war had reached them. If they were lucky. They looked better in the dark, because then you couldn't see the damage so well, especially if you didn't use any lights and left it to the stars to give you enough light to see. Then, if you used your imagination, you could pretend the cities weren't just ghosts of their former selves. Not that Bumblebee had much experience with cities. By the time he'd come online, the only thing left to do was to pick a side, Autobot or Decepticon. There wasn't much of anything else left.

It was strange, that he could long for and miss something he'd never really known. But he did.

Finally he reached his destination. After so many hours driving, it felt good to finally transform and stretch. He loved to drive, and especially to drive fast, because everything looked better going by at a hundred miles an hour, but even he got cramps after driving too long.

Bumblebee didn't stop to engage with his surroundings though, but headed to the first Autobot he could find and asked after the Prime. He'd been told to report immediately, and that meant not only reaching the destination quickly, but tracking down the Prime as rapidly as possible as well. The Autobot waved him towards a building, or what was left of one, and Bumblebee shortly located the Prime within.

It wasn't hard. Primes weren't difficult to identify. You could just feel a power to them, a controlled strength that radiated from within that nobody else from the newest recruit to the oldest veteran possessed. You didn't find that in Scouts, Warriors, Medics or anything else. Only Primes. Not even Megatron was so strong a presence. And of course being in the presence of Megatron one knew only fear, nothing else. In the presence of a Prime, there might be a case of nerves, but it was more awe and respect that struck Bumblebee when he was around a Prime. And this Prime was on another level altogether. This Prime, called Optimus, was in a class of his own, Bumblebee could feel it.

Bumblebee forgot to identify himself, barely managing to say, {Reporting as ordered, sir.}

Long habit had taught him to keep information, including his name, to himself, even though it was protocol to identify yourself to a Prime when reporting in. Even if they had seen you before. Primes had contact with so many, they couldn't be expected to remember every lowly Scout's name. Bumblebee was not only overwhelmed by the feeling surrounding this Prime, but also by the knowledge that he had been asked for by name. Optimus Prime knew his name, and had gone to some lengths to contact him specifically; pulling him almost directly out of the field.

The Prime elected to let the evident impertinence slide. There were more important matters.

"Cybertron is dying," the Prime said, his voice a low rumble of sorrow that Bumblebee felt to his core. He must have looked startled, because the Prime added, "You shouldn't look so surprised. It was you who drew my attention to that fact, which has gone ignored for too long. You know that you are among the youngest Cybertronians in existence, one of the last to have come online. You know as well as I that the end is near, regardless of who strikes the winning blow in this war."

Bumblebee knew that. How could he not? But he couldn't imagine how it was that he'd drawn the Prime's attention to it. Must've been some bit of intel he'd delivered and since forgotten about. Bumblebee seldom knew the significance of what the intel he carried was, and practically never knew what the end result of it would be.

{I am aware,} the Scout admitted, yet felt the need to quickly add, {But I choose not to dwell on the negative. We are not dead, not yet, and so we have no right to act like we are.}

"Be that as it may, we need a contingency plan. In case evacuation becomes necessary."

{What would you have me do?}

He suspected he already knew. But with Primes, one should never assume anything.

"There is a planet some distance from here, known as Earth. I need you to scout it, determine the nature of its lifeforms and methods of evasion. Make no mistake, this is a planet belonging to others, not us. We cannot behave as Decepticons. We must coexist, or conceal ourselves. We must not interfere with the lives of these creatures, or hinder their development. It is their planet, not ours. Do you understand?"

{Covert op. Observe and report back,} the Scout said crisply, even though inside he was churning with excitement and fear, {Do not engage. If captured, do not resist with violence. Understood, sir.}

"Bumblebee," Optimus Prime said slowly, "I have to make sure you really do understand. You cannot, for any reason whatsoever, harm the creatures of that planet. No matter what."

The Scout nodded, this time saying nothing. He understood.

"Take a good look around, because you may never see this planet again. Get some rest, you leave in the morning. Dismissed."

Bumblebee nodded again, turned and walked out. He didn't ask how he was meant to communicate his findings over such distances, or how he was supposed to get there in the first place. He was putting his complete faith in the Prime that those details were taken care of. If asked, the Scout would have replied simply that he'd go where he was sent, do what was asked of him, everything else be damned.

To his mind, that was what Scouts did.

Unlike the Scout, Optimus had doubts. He hoped he was making the right decision. If he was not, there was no telling how high the cost might be, especially for the Scouts he was sending out into the unknown.

That's what Scouts were for. It's what they did. But that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous.

There were many reasons to send Bumblebee rather than any other Scout to Earth, the farthest flung planet to which any Scout was being dispatched. Bumblebee was experienced, and was exceptionally skilled. But he was also dangerous since narrowly surviving torture at the hands of Megatron.

A recent report on him detailed a Scout teetering on the edge of becoming a Rogue. Optimus hoped some distance from the Decepticons and the war itself would help stabilize the Scout. He didn't want to lose Bumblebee, Optimus was convinced he was the best Scout the Autobot army had.

The Scout did not know -but could easily guess- that Optimus had another motive in sending him, beyond the seemingly inevitably coming death of Cybertron itself. Energon was in short supply and constant demand. Worse, the Decepticons were better at taking it than the Autobots were. They were at once stealthier and more aggressive. And their numbers were greater.

There seemed only one course, and that was to hide energon somewhere beyond Decepticon reach. Bumblebee was not the only Scout being sent out to find a place to hide energon. But he was one of the few who knew that the real reason for doing so was that Optimus anticipated the end of Cybertron.

Bumblebee knew the score, perhaps better than anyone. He would know that energon must be taken to locations off world for the Autobots to stand a chance of surviving without Cybertron. The specifics did not need to be discussed. He either knew them, or did not care to know them. The fate of the Autobots now lay in the hands of Bumblebee, and other Scouts like him.

Perhaps, Optimus thought reflectively, it always had.