Author's Note: This was originally published as an individual story. However, since I'm going to publish one-shots in form of a collection from now on, "Prepare to 'Bee Inspected" moved over here.

Title: Prepare to 'Bee Inspected

Summary: Bumblebee and Sam have an encounter of the different kind – one that no one really likes but has to face every once in a while…

Characters: Bumblebee; Sam Witwicky

Universe: life-action movies

Point in Time: set some time after Dark of the Moon

Genre: Humor

Rating: G, K

Warnings: none

Notes: Just a little one-shot that came to my mind when I overheard my grandfather and brother-in-law talking about car inspections.

It's common knowledge that the Germans are strict about rules and their enforcement, especially when the safety of the population was concerned. However, when Sam and I went to the central-European country for ambassadorial work, none of us expected to be checked that the rules are followed.

It happened on a Tuesday morning. Sam and I had more or less just arrived on the military airport of the Ramstein Air Base on Monday. It had been late at night already on touch-down; due to a tropical storm holding Diego Garcia in its grasp, our departure from the naval base had to be rescheduled, so we could only leave about six hours later than planned. Of course we had recharged on route, but Sam's bio-rhythm had gone havoc because of the time differences and our already tight schedule having tightened even more when we received note that three more meetings with politicians had been arranged. Therefore, upon arrival at Ramstein, Sam was still fast asleep and no one wanted to wake him just yet.

But as soon as he woke up at about four in the morning, we were on our way toward the capital of Germany, Berlin. We would, among others, meet with the Minister for Foreign Affairs as well as the Secretary of Defense (or whatever the official title translated from German) before meeting with the chancellor.

While waiting for Sam to wake up I had done some research and found out that the drive from Ramstein to Berlin would take about six hours on a good day, depending on the traffic. I of course intended to have Sam be in Berlin earlier than needed to give him time for a breather, but I quickly found out that the international image of Germans loving their cars and using them often was a hundred percent reality. It therefore didn't really come as a surprise that at five-hundred hours we were stuck in our first German traffic jam.

I tried my very best to find a route around it, but GPS failed me. It wasn't so much that it didn't work for me, but rather that everyone local knew about the alternatives and used them rather than be stuck in the traffic jam – with the result that the reroutes were packed with cars as well.

Sam was still relatively relaxed. We had lots of time left and he knew I would get us to our goal in time – I always did – but I grew slowly worried when zipping through the various radio channels and listening to the news reporting traffic jams of averagely five miles length all around the area. I hoped that the traffic jam would vanish quickly.

Today didn't seem to be my lucky day because instead of the traffic jam vanishing, it instead grew even thicker – and longer. A lot longer. At seven-hundred hours we were still stuck, not having made more than twenty miles in the last two hours.

Sam drumming his fingers on the steering wheel was the first indication of him growing nervous. The second was the rising level of stress hormones. "This doesn't seem good," he mumbled to himself, sounding anxious. I had to agree with him.

We continued to crawl forward in silence for about five minutes before Sam sighed heavily. "Can't you do something, 'Bee? I'll be otherwise too late for the meeting with the minister."

Zipping through quotes, I played back, "I'll try…" I didn't have the slightest idea what to do though. I could hardly transform and walk around it, and the traffic rules explicitly state that you mustn't drive on the breakdown lane. That one was for emergencies only. But if our pressing schedule wasn't an emergency, I had no idea what was.

Carefully easing myself through the cars whenever there was space, I eventually managed to free myself of the surrounding inanimate vehicles and gave speed. We quickly drove past the traffic jam and arrived at the origin: an accident, blocking two of three lanes. The police was busy directing the cars by while the ambulance took care of the injured people.

I used a truck as cover to get past the police unnoticed, and luck seemed to have returned for after the accident the road was all clear. I gave even more speed and quickly brought us out of Frankfurt's larger area.

Several hours later, just after driving past Jena, there was a police control signing for us to pull over. That Sam had noticed them too I realized when he mumbled, "Oh, no, please, not now," followed by a deep sigh.

"Guten Tag," the man said. "Ihre Papiere bitte."

Sam didn't know German – at least not much – so he replied, "Eh, um, hi. Do you speak English?"

The police man nodded. "Yes." His next words I thought were the translation of what he said earlier in his mother tongue. "May I see your papers please, sir?"

"Sure." Sam grabbed his driver's license (which he didn't need any more since I was the one driving) and the papers (which were faked because I didn't need papers – but the humans insisted on all of us having papers for such cases).

The police man looked them through quickly but efficiently. "Your license indicates you're American?"

"Yeah, from the southwest," Sam replied politely. My sensors, however, told me how stressed he really was; it wasn't every day that an Autobot got pulled over by the police. But Sam hid it well from the officer.

"I see…" was the reply. The papers and license were handed back. "Well, young man, you drove too fast. I have to give you a ticket."

Sam blinked in astonishment. "I thought there were no speed limits on the highway."

"People might think, but the speed limit is 130 kilometers per hour."

Sam sighed. "All right, give me the ticket. But can you make it quick please? I have an appointment in Berlin and need to be there on time."

The police man frowned. "I hope you go without driving too fast again." There was an unspoken warning in his tone.

Sam patted the steering wheel nervously. "I'll drive carefully." Which was a very ambassadorial answer for him.

The police man seemed to realize that the moment Sam spoke. So he held his hands out again. "May I see your papers again please?" Unable to refuse, Sam complied. And this time, the officer took his time. Eventually, his frown deepened and he glared at Sam. "Are those the real papers?"

"Of course," Sam hastened to reassure but my sensors recorded the havoc-wreaking hormones in his body.

The police man waved them in Sam's face. "Then why is there no note about the TÜV?" Sam was confused because he apparently had no idea what the police officer was talking about; it clearly showed on his face. So the man added in explanation, "When's the car been checked the last time?"

From Sam's expression I knew the same thought that ran through my processors was on his mind; just yesterday, by Ratchet. And he declared me fully operational. But of course, Sam couldn't say that to the officer. "Uh…"

"Young man, I'm afraid a ticket won't do it. I'll have to confiscate the car."

That, however, had the wrong effect on Sam. "No," he firmly said, his mind set. "You can't confiscate it."

The police officer crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Says who?"

Believing it was now or never, I answered before Sam could speak. "Says I." Quickly zipping through the stations for another quote, I played through the radio, "Thoroughly checked and ready to go." And for good measure, I added a recording of Prime. "Let's roll out!"

The officer stared at the radio, gaping like a fish. "What—?" he stammered, unable to articulate properly.

Sam sighed. "Great, 'Bee, now you've done it," he admonished, hitting the steering wheel once for good measure. To the man he then said, "That's Bumblebee, one of the Autobots. You surely have heard of them?" Sam didn't wait for the officer's nod or shake of the head, continuing, "Officer, see, as ambassador to the Autobots I really need to be in Berlin on time. It's a really important meeting I have to attend and I can't afford to lose any more time than I have already. So if you could please let Bumblebee and me continue on our way? I can't promise to stay under the speed limit, but we'll be careful and not endanger the other traffic participants."

Unable to deny Sam the wish after he spoke with such determination – but looking like he very much wanted to do so – the officer nodded. "All right, go on, and stay safe." Then he handed back the papers.

When we were a couple of miles away from the police officer, Sam said, "'Bee, remind me to ask NEST to provide the – how did he call it – 'TÜV' note in the fake papers the next time we come to Germany."

"Ay ay, captain!" I quoted through the radio while speeding down the motorway toward Berlin.