"Whoa, whoa, back it up!" Trina's hands were waving in the air as if she were trying to shoo away a bug, and Mikaela found herself laughing out loud for the first time in what seemed like months. "You saw Ratchet and Ironhide doing what now?"

"Clanking it up."

"Oh, God….the way you say it makes it even more wrong than it already is!" she draped the back of her hand over her eyes. "Oh, the horror!"

"It was only a glimpse. And, I mean, Ratchet admitted it later."

"Good for him."

Mikaela shrugged, her lips curving downward as she frowned and thought for a moment. Tapping her finger against her chin, she said, "you know, I didn't think Cybertronians's had those parts…."

"Ponder it, but don't speak it," Trina raised her hands, looking as if she were silently chanting for Mikaela to stop talking. "If I want a lesson, I'll go to school."

"The school of Ratchet?"

"Oh, God," Trina moaned and covered her face with her hands. Mikaela laughed, her shoulders rising and falling with each beat. Trina eased down in front of her, sitting on the large mat where Mikaela, months ago, had stood, huffing and puffing as she tried to life weights that weighed a ton.

Now, the room was mostly bare. Trina had no use for it anymore, and a part of Mikaela wondered why she was even allowed to stay on the base anymore.

She didn't know. As long as Trina stayed right where she was, she didn't care. She was the last human friend Mikaela had left.

"Alright," Trina stared up at Mikaela with twinkling eyes. "So you and the boss are, like, an item?"

"I dunno."

"You have to know!" she exclaimed. "It's the first step!"

"I don't bother with steps. I'm more of a….go with the flow kind of bot.'" Mikaela leaned back, lounging against the wall with her arms and legs crossed, staring down at the human in front of her.

"I've noticed."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mikaela asked, leaning forward.

"I mean, you're different."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Trina rolled her eyes, shuffling so she could scoot forward a few inches. She stared up at Mikaela, mouth pulled into a tight line as she contemplated over what to say next. Finally, she gave up and slapped the palms of her hands against the mat, the noise echoing off the walls.

"You're independent," she said with a shrug. "I mean, you go off and do your own thing, which is good and all, but it gets you into situations you'd rather not be in. And it pisses you off."

"And you know this how…."

Trina tapped the side of her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I know these things. I have a way of getting into peoples heads."

"Yeah, that's not concerning."

"I don't mean to go all creepy on you, but I'm just stating the facts," Trina concluded. "No matter how shitty they may be."

"And shitty they are, Trina," Mikaela added. "But I get what you're saying."

They were silent for a moment. Then, Trina's shrill laugh broke the air, shattering the stillness around them.

"Look at me," Trina said. "I'm sitting here discussing my feeling with a human turned alien. No offense."

"None taken," Mikaela said. "You know, the first time I saw Bumblebee, I was thinking 'oh, my God, this monster is going to step on me,'" she paused. "And next thing you know, I have the little thing hooked to the back of a pickup truck, and I'm screaming at him to shoot and he's shooting…." She trailed off.

"Pretty weird, huh."

"What about you?"

It was Trina's turn to pause, fingers going to scratch the back of her neck. It occurred to Mikaela that her circumstance for meeting the Autobots was completely political.

She had done some research regarding the Garrison family before. It hadn't really started out as research, more like seeing Jude Garrison on the news, the paparazzi's newest fixation, running around and flaunting his newest suit. It had never once occurred to Mikaela to ask Trina for a last name. It had never crossed her mind that she might be talking to Jude Garrison's daughter, the heir to one of the largest fortunes in the world.

Even with her size, her superior strength and speed, Mikaela still felt small. Her she was, talking to a girl who, with her father's money and power, could have her shut down in less than a minute.

But here Trina Garrison was, talking to her with complete ease, no hint of a snooty, spoiled rich girl showing through her seemingly imperturbable demeanor.

"I barely got into college before deciding that it wasn't for me. My dad was furious. Said he would disown me if I didn't get a good job that made me – technically him, at the time – lots and lots of money," Trina began tracing patterns in the ground, her fingers moving different directions in unison with her words. "Not good. So I went back, got really interested in certain types of therapy and working with others, and it kind of took off from there."

"So you're a brainiac?"

"Let me finish!" Trina snapped, and then settled down. "N.E.S.T found me. Said they wanted me for something big."

"And I'm assuming that 'something big' was me?"

"You," Trina said. "It was a bogus project. Yeah, like alien robots exist. Like a human had been in an accident, her mind had been transplanted, and she was lying in a hospital, a gigantic metal heap that would wake up soon."

"Nice description."

"It's true!" Trina raised her voice. "I got to see you, asleep. You talked some, even, and moved, but you never woke up."

"I guess I was pretty boring to look at, huh?" Mikaela said.

"No. I had never seen the Autobots before. But I had heard stories about how you helped the aliens save the world."

Mikaela's gaze didn't leave the ground.

"And Sam. Oh, man, Sam was freaking out, Mikaela," Trina shook her head sadly. "He wouldn't stop…he was crying all the time. And Optimus, too."

"He cried?"

"He did the closest thing a Prime can do to crying. He sat in the corner with his head in his hands and stared at the wall. Didn't even want to move."

Mikaela felt her throat go dry, even though it wasn't moist. It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of sand down whatever type of esophagus Cybertronians's had, because she couldn't speak. Her tongue was made of molasses, and when she tried to make a noise, nothing came out.

Finally, she whispered, "the past is irrelevant."

Trina did not say a word.

"You talked to her?"

"I did."

Optimus didn't meet her gaze, but his fingers were curled around hers and his shoulder touched hers, almost causally. There wouldn't be any more touching tonight, Mikaela thought.

They had already done that. But it hadn't been a lot.

"Do you find her company enjoyable?"

"Meaning, do like her? Yeah."

"I supposed you two would have a lot in common," Optimus said, his hand tightening around hers. "She's cares for you, Mikaela. Do not forget that."

They walked down the empty halls and towards the vidroom, where Ratchet was, sure enough, waiting for them with a scowl on his face and in wrench in his hand. His back was turned to the couple as they entered, his eyes glued to one flashing screen on the wall.

Mikaela tried not to make a noise of disgust as Fisher's voice filled her ears, his honeyed words feeding his followers with lies as they listened eagerly, like obedient dogs, clawing at the side of the stage.

He was at the podium, standing proud with the Lincoln Memorial behind him. He had drawn quite the crowd of crazies, as he always did.

He was shouting into the microphone, at the crowd.

"We are so close, my friends!" he proclaimed. "So close the reaching our objective! So close to vanquishing these mechanical devils from the planet! Our planet!"

"Our planet!" the crowd roared in unison.

Optimus and Mikaela stared.

"We're going to have to do something, Prime," Ratchet said, shaking his head. "This is getting out of control."

"It is out of hands whether or not the humans decide we should stay on their planet."

"Out of our hands? For Primus' sake, Optimus, we've been protecting this planet since 2007 - "

"We don't run this Earth, Ratchet," Optimus said, his eyes fixed on the screen. Beside him, Mikaela pressed herself against his arm, staring worriedly into his blue optics. "We never will."

"But the Decepticon's will, Prime," Mikaela said, stepping forward. Ratchet stared at her with what appeared to be pride. His chest puffed out and he stood taller, his usual grumpy demeanor abandoned. "If we leave, the humans die."

"I never suggested that leaving was an alternative," Optimus said. "The government really can't succumb to Fisher's temptations, can they? Even back on Cybertron, bribery got you nowhere."

Mikaela could see the worry mixed in with the anger. She glanced at Ratchet, who was staring worriedly in their leaders direction. He went back to the screens, and, like the good analyst he was, began to flip through different footage of Fisher proclaiming his hatred towards the bot's.

"They want us to either leave, or make sure we gain no rights," Mikaela said. "They don't trust us."

"I think we've established that," Ratchet grumbled.

"But how? What are they promising the legislature?" Optimus said softly.

"Fisher is riding this as far as he can," Mikaela said to him, and then glanced at Ratchet, honestly wanting some of his advice. "Right? His followers may be crazy, but he's not. He's good. He'll find something big enough, something important enough…." She faltered.

You didn't have to be a scientist to figure it out. Fisher had everything. The money, the political power, the intelligence. But he needed something to bribe with. Something N.E.S.T had denied the government long ago, when the Autobots had first been discovered.

Their weaponry was strictly off limits to human hands.

Apparently, Fisher was an exception.

"That's impossible," Optimus shook his head, and then looked at Ratchet as if expecting to get a different answer. "I never shared anything about our basic programming. Only the basics of our culture were revealed to the humans."

"Unless the Decepticon's are in on it."

"Someone give her a gold star," Ratchet said, barking a laugh. "It's not likely, but it's not impossible, either."

Megatron would never do that. Megatron despised Fisher, almost as much as Mikaela did. He would never be dumb enough to ally himself with a radical like Caine Fisher. Even Starscream would know better.

"We have to act, soon," Ratchet said, booting up more footage of Caine and his followers, his optics never leaving the screen. Optimus shifted beside Mikaela, leaving her and going over to Ratchet, but not before shooting her an apologetic glance.

"It's okay," she murmured. "Work, if you need to. I'll be waiting."

She left the vidroom with her arms crossed over her chest and his processors stuffed with thoughts. It wasn't a surprise that Fisher had gotten ahold of Cybertronian technology. It wasn't even a surprise that he was using it to bribe Congress. It was how he worked, apparently.

But where had he gotten it? Mikaela had already made a list of Decepticon, checking it twice and then double-checking to make sure.

The one mech not on her list, she realized, was the one mech she hated the most. Barricade was the only logical answer.

She stopped, her lips curling down into a frown.

She was going to investigate, she decided. Attend a rally, undercover. Look for Barricade, watch Fisher spew crap to people who were already full of crap, and maybe get a glimpse of her father while she was at it. But she wouldn't do it alone, and she already had one mech in mind who would be perfect for a task like this.

Starscream wouldn't be pleased.