Though not explicitly stated in the reports, it was obvious to those with the experience to know that things were not going well on Cybertron. Bumblebee had read enough dispatches from bases about to be overrun or destroyed to recognize the choice of words.
Cybertron was not only dying, she was nearly lost.
Evacuations were underway all over the planet, ships were being sent out in their hundreds, carrying energon, soldiers, POWs, advanced weaponry, historical records, prototypes and scientific research notes. They were scattering to the stars, to the remote outposts and far-flung planets where the Autobots would be making their final stands. The plan was as ancient and simple as it was effective. The Decepticons could only closely pursue so many ships. They could only take over so many outposts. They could only locate so many hidden planets.
The war for Cybertron was now one for the galaxy... for more than one galaxy, in fact. Unfortunately, even as the Autobots fled and the Decepticons pursued, Megatron was wise enough to be planning ahead. Undoubtedly he too had secret bases, and hiding places for the energon the Decepticons had, and for any they managed to steal from the Autobots.
Already both sides had many and secret facilities where they conducted scientific research. Of course, the Decepticons had more secret camps for POWs, because they had less tendency to try to retrieve their own, so the Autobots didn't have to go to such extensive lengths to secure such locations. It would be nice to say that this was because Autobots treated their prisoners better than the Decepticons did, but the reality was simply that -with a few jarring exceptions- Decepticons didn't care about their own. The difficulty was in keeping the prisoners in, rather than keeping rescuers out.
Back on Cybertron, it had more than once been Bumblebee's job, as a Scout, to seek out such locations and report back, though a few times he had been sent in either alone or with Warriors backing him, to derail a particularly nasty operation of that type. He'd seldom been sent farther than that, however. But it seemed that was over now, all of it left in the past.
As Bumblebee read it, the world was lost, but the war was far from over.
It did not come as a surprise to him. He had known that it was coming long before that day when the Prime had called him in, and given him his assignment to Earth. Even so, it struck like a blow.
But it did not hit Bumblebee so hard as it hit Axle, and any others wise enough to read between the lines. They had known the war was grim, knew casualties were suffered often, knew the battlefields were stained with energon spilled upon the broken husks of former cities. Many of them were old enough to remember a time before. But they hadn't really known the worst. Now, even without being told in so many words, they understood. Cybertron -their home- was dead.
And then there was Jax. Older than Bumblebee, he was nonetheless far less experienced in the field. The reports that came in seemed to mean nothing to him, and he obliviously continued his research, asking only when certain supplies were due and if any of his colleagues had sent responses to his first notes. He seemed disappointed that they had not, and somewhat surprised. The rest of them imagined that these colleagues were likely too busy evacuating to write correspondence.
Finally, one day, Throttle had had it.
Throttle wasn't the most grizzled of veterans, but he'd seen his share of combat, and he particularly resented that everyone else was doing something he could perceive as useful, and Jax would sit somewhere making notes on the annual needle shedding of a nearby fir tree. Everyone else was setting up energon caches, defensive systems and more reliable communication devices. Even the least tech-savvy Warrior could carry heavy things from here to there with a minimum of instruction. Bumblebee was often helping to carry, when he wasn't scouting and reporting on locations or babysitting Jax to make sure he stayed out of trouble, so Throttle's only real complaint was Jax himself, who always claimed to be too busy to help do almost anything.
On this particular day, the sun was a bright, blinding disk in the sky. Throttle and Bumblebee were working in tandem hauling the larger pieces for a new radio tower, and Jax was making notes on the ravens who flitted boldly among them, where most birds shied away while the Autobots were in motion when they were in robot mode. Aside from the report where he explained the predicament he was in during the time he was stuck as a bird's nest, Bumblebee had not mentioned the ravens. Assuredly Jax had read that report, but the birds fascinated him anyway, for reasons Bumblebee didn't care to guess at.
"You could be just the slightest bit helpful," Throttle grunted at Jax, something which had been said a hundred times over in just the last few days alone.
The prompt for this remark was that Throttle and Bumblebee were carrying between them a heavy piece of metal support structure, which they were taking up out of the canyon where they'd made their most recent camp. The long distance communication array was to be set up at the top, where it would encounter the least interference. The stronger but less agile Throttle was taking the back end of the project, while Bumblebee took the front. Bumblebee had his back to the narrow cliff path they'd been using, because this particular object was too heavy and awkward for him to keep hold of if it was behind him. Throttle was the stronger and therefore took more weight as Bumblebee worked his way up, but his ability to give directions left something to be desired. More than once, giving a bad direction, Throttle had nearly sent Bumblebee tumbling off the path. It would be much easier if a third party, not hindered by weight or bad angle, could observe and give instructions to direct them up the path. But, of course, Jax came back with his constant refrain.
"I'm busy right now."
Thus far, largely because of Axle's instructions on the matter, Throttle had let Jax be. Autobot soldier or not, Jax answered to a different chain of command from Throttle, though of course ultimately they both answered to the same Prime. And technically Jax was carrying out his assignment. But the rest of them found time to go above and beyond their job description. For instance, it was not in Throttle's (or Bumblebee's) job description to build the frame for this radio tower. But Axle had assigned whoever wasn't otherwise occupied to aid in the construction of the device, it being of import and benefit to all. Throttle and Bumblebee had in part volunteered, and in part been told to participate. Jax, however, somehow always eeled out of these sorts of jobs.
However tolerant he might normally be, in Throttle's hot brain, the grief at recently realizing his home was now and forever gone combined with the frustration of having been given this backwater planet as what might well be his final mission, and annoyance at having participated in a series of tasks for which he lacked the proper training was added to the fear that the Decepticon might actually come here before the Autobots were adequately prepared, and wipe out the garrison on Earth almost before it was established, leaving the Autobots with that many fewer soldiers to fight back with, that much less energon to survive on, and one less planet on which to survive. That and a thousand other minor discomforts and inconveniences that had manifested since they'd landed on Earth came together like something of a mental lightning bolt, and Throttle lost his temper.
Over the buzz of frantic protest from Bumblebee (which upset the ravens enough that they flew away, scolding indignantly), Throttle dropped his end of the frame material, ran over to Jax and knocked the notes aside with one hand, lifting Jax by the chest plate with the other.
"Don't you get it!?" Throttle shouted, "Cybertron is dead! Earth may be all we have left! If we don't get this damned radio set up, we won't have any warning when the Decepticons come to try and destroy what's left of us! And we won't be able to warn or direct any incoming Autobot ships, either! Great Cybertron, what's the matter with you!? Aren't you an Autobot at all!? Don't you get it!?"
While Throttle was shouting, Bumblebee lost control of the metal bar, it being too heavy for just one bot. Despite his efforts, it slid back down the path, undoing all the progress of almost half an hour of work, and then clanging brutally against a rock. Still buzzing, too agitated to even form words, Bumblebee pursued the bar and inspected it briefly for damage, before turning on Throttle and Jax, just as the latter began to yell his rebuttal.
"What you don't get is that my work is more important than ever!" Jax shot back, "If we are to live here, we have to understand the intricacies of this world, to make sure we don't damage it irreversibly like we did Cybertron, and so that we know how to use it to our advantage. Did you know that, under the present conditions, a blaster shot here and now risks starting a fire large enough to endanger not just the local fauna and flora, but us as well? I bet you didn't!" this might have had a more desirable effect on Throttle, had Jax not sounded so smug and superior as he said it.
Jax then proceeded to make a bad situation worse by adding arrogantly, "No! Of course you don't know! You're just a big, dumb soldier who does whatever he's told, without once stopping to think for yourself! You're probably only an Autobot because someone told you to be, because you couldn't possibly be bright enough to have made that decision on your own!"
That was too much to ask Throttle to take. He drew back his fist and prepared to strike Jax. However, Bumblebee had by this point abandoned the damaged building material, and took a leap at Throttle, managing to arrest the movement of his arm by essentially wrapping his legs around Throttle's torso and his arms around Throttle's shoulder and upper arm.
For a moment, his wild buzzing was fully incoherent, then he managed to start babbling, {Stop it! Fighting each other won't help anything!} as Throttle resisted, Bumblebee persisted, {You're both morons if you can't see that acting this way is worse than pointless! We are Autobots, and Autobots don't turn on each other! Not like this!}
One of the ravens that had flown off in a panic at the start of the altercation had plucked up its courage and come back. It tried to land on Bumblebee, just as Throttle shook him loose, knocking him to the ground. Bumblebee struck the bird on his way down. The pained shriek of the raven when Bumblebee hit it froze all three of them. Bumblebee felt as if his spark had been stopped cold and let out an incoherent wail. Shaking off the shock, Bumblebee rolled himself upright and went to the fallen bird. It was so small he had difficulty scooping it off the ground. Unconsciously, he was burring wordlessly, a sound of shocked horror and pain at the damage they had just caused.
"Now look what you've done," Jax spat, but Throttle wasn't paying attention to him any more.
In fact, Throttle had dropped Jax in the dirt and walked over to where Bumblebee knelt.
"Is it... is it alright?" Throttle asked meekly, "I didn't mean to hurt it. I didn't know it was there."
{Go away,} Bumblebee snarled, {Both of you! Just... go.}
He didn't even noticed when both complied. He was unaware of it as they picked up the support beam and resumed work on the communication array, leaving him to his grief. He didn't notice that other Autobots had been drawn to the sound of the scuffle, arriving after the altercation was already over, and then quietly departing. They were accustomed to the presence of the ravens. They too saw the damage that had been wrought. They too were grieved by it, as only Autobots can be.
They knew, of course, that destruction of Earth and its creatures was unforgivable. This was only a bird, and it was realized by Autobot Command that some damage was unavoidable, Autobots were too big and powerful for it to be otherwise, so there was not likely to be any rebuke for such a minor offense. But they knew the ravens were living beings, and that they were as helpless as they were harmless in the face of the Autobots. Both scientist and soldier were wounded deeply by the incident, but none so much as Bumblebee himself.
The ravens had remembered that he had served as a safe haven for them, passed that knowledge from one generation to the next, to their entire flock it had seemed. They had trusted him. It had been such a stupid fight, just frayed nerves striking each other. A minor scuffle, a brief loss of temper, and this raven had became collateral damage. And that was just a disagreement between three Autobots. What would happen when the Decepticons arrived? The numbers greater? The stakes higher? Bumblebee's pain was for much more than just the single bird that had suffered from their momentary carelessness.
An even deeper agony that cut into him was the realization that there was no choice. Cybertron was dead. The war was moving outward. Even if the Autobots were to leave the Earth right now, today, the Decepticons would eventually claim it for their own, conquer and destroy it to achieve their own ends.
It was a cruel reality that Bumblebee faced as he came to understand that, however hard they tried, the Autobots would still end up by their presence causing damage and death, but that leaving would only result in even more extensive destruction. It wasn't right. But the nature of existence itself did not care for right or wrong; giving life and death, advantage and disadvantage to each with cold impartiality. That was true fairness, though no one liked to admit it.
As he looked at the broken body of the raven, its black feathers blown by a stirring wind, Bumblebee wondered if Earth would have to die for the sake of the bloody war between the Autobots and Decepticons. Even if the Autobots were willing to die to prevent that from happening, it might not be up to them in the end, he knew.
The deepest pain he felt was for the Earth he realized he could not protect.
I do not want this world to die, the thought struck him to the core.
And then a still small voice seemed to answer, The Prime would never allow it.
Bumblebee had sworn service to Optimus Prime. He had given his word, placing all of his devotion, and his trust, in a leader who was right now very, very far away. Despite that distance, he had to have faith in Optimus, otherwise all of this meant nothing. He had made a decision so long ago to become an Autobot, and he must now live or die with it. He had to trust in Optimus to make the right call for Earth. He had to have faith in the wisdom of the last of the Primes.
For him, there was no other option.