= Sweet Vibrations =

By Ayngel

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers.

Warnings: Adult themes, course language, slash, sexual references and descriptions. A bunch of randy Autobots, all after poor Bee!

This chapter is ALL Autobot crack! A little longer than usual. Hope you enjoy :-)

~ Chapter 7 ~

As a result of the Decepticons 'going to ground,' mechs enjoying 'time out' also filled the recreation room in the Ark.

A collection of Autobots lounged in comfortable chairs. On a table in the corner, a television blared - but most were not watching it. Instead, they read datapads, chatted or allowed themselves a rare 'nap.' Haphazardly strewn tables contained various paraphernalia, along with empty cubes and plates of half eaten snacks.

It was all testament to a well earned rest after so much 'con action for so long. It was also the means by which the Autobots had avoided too much running through their processors about what had become 'the unmentioned subject:' Bumblebee's 'first.'

On a table in roughly the centre of the room was a large roulette wheel, and it was around this that most of the furniture was angled. And now, Smokescreen was on his feet again, having stashed the not inconsiderable pile of credits he'd managed to accumulate from the day's main entertainment.

"Say," he smiled at them. "Anyone up for another spin?"

But they all shook their heads. It was late in the day, and they were nicely inebriated, some even thinking about recharge. And others were - to be honest - a little jaded at Smokescreen's apparent string of good luck, and certain it was more than this, but thought it best not to raise the issue. Easier to just relax and drift off ….

One mech, however, was not so soporific. Sunstreaker, particularly, had been eyeing Smokescreen's piles, and now he got to his feet, an angry expression on his handsome face. "It's a travesty!" he roared, his hands balling into fists.

A few of the Autobots sat up. And Sideswipe, of course, was on his feet in an instant. "Hey, Sunny!" he said in a soothing voice, laying a hand on his brother's arm. "C'mon now. We talked about this! Smokey's just – a lucky mech!"

There were murmurs, only some of which sounded like agreement, while Smokescreen looked a little sheepish. "Say, that's right! No hard feelings, huh Sun?" he ventured.

But Sunstreaker was not so easily pacified. "I'm not talkin' about that!" he roared.

He had their attention, now. He darkened, glowering. "I'm talkin' about the fact that I'm so full o'charge I'm sizzling, and that my spike feels like Megatron's fusion canon!" he growled.

"I'm talkin' - about Bumblebee!"

….

Bumblebee had remembered just in time to pull his door shut, catching a glimpse of Gears' furious face just before the door slammed into it. Now, as he took off up the corridor, he activated his private locking mechanism.

A loud banging came from behind, amid shouts of: "Get your sorry aft back here …. that's an order ….!" Bumblebee winced. He was relieved, at least, that he hadn't knocked out his ex cousin. But it was good that the noises receded as he got further away.

But once he had gone a few hundred yards, the minibot slowed. He had a problem. Inside his codpiece, his new equipment jarred and rattled, sending out sharp stabs of pain. "Try and not to move around too much!" Ratchet had barked. "It don't do to subject it to too much stress before the first time!"

Bumblebee despaired. He was doing the opposite! Maybe he should comm Mirage again. But no – he was sure Mirage was still busy doing whatever he'd been doing before, and he'd sounded - well – a little irritated by the comm.

Besides, was he going to run to Mirage for everything? What about his 'independence?' Concentrating, Bumblebee managed to tighten down the locking gear. Encouraged, and thinking Mirage would be pleased with him for doing something he hadn't even been taught – and maybe less grumpy when he did comm him next – Bee hastened on.

Now - he must think what to do. He could not just charge directionlessly along! But this way, he was headed for the control room - exactly where Optimus Prime would be. And that was suddenly the best idea he'd had so far. Yes – of course! Optimus Prime was all 'goodliness' and 'understanding!' Bumblebee would simply explain to their leader that he'd made a mistake – and ask for Mirage's selection to be reinstated.

But he'd forgotten to turn off the secret minibot comm frequency! And now a familiar voice broke in, loud and furious: /BEE! When Prime finds out you disobeyed his orders you're goin' straight in the brig. And that ain't all …./

Bumblebee snapped it off, his optics widening in alarm. How could he even have thought it? One simply did not tell Optimus Prime he'd 'made a mistake.' However nice he was. Besides, if Prime changed his orders, he would lose 'face – and it would look like favouritism. And did many not already 'go on' that he was Prime's 'special little mech!'

No – there was nothing for it. Bumblebee would have to get out of the Ark. He would comm Spike. Yes, straight away! As he'd been going to before. Yes - that's what he would do!

Flipping off the Gears frequency, and activating the special one he shared with the human, Bumblebee took the fork in the corridor which led to the entrance. But as he rounded the corner, and before he could make the call, a surprised exclamation sounded, and an orange form leaped to one side. Bumblebee dodged himself, tripped, and fell on to his hands and knees.

"Hey Bee …." Gentle hands were helping him up. "Where's the fire, Grapple asked.

…..

"I'm sorry I'm sorry." Bee stammered. "Look I – uh – I'm late for an appointment." He felt instantly terrible about the lie.

Grapple laughed. "Oh I think it can probably wait," he said. "Hadn't you heard – Prime cancelled all appointments and gave everyone some R and R. It's all been happening in the rec room – not that it's my scene. I guess you might not have heard, though, because of your er … err …"

And then, the Crane was looking at Bumblebee's codpiece. Grapple's faceplates went a more reddish shade of orange. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he said.

But Bumblebee brightened. He'd always liked the crane. And now he was so close, Grapple was suddenly 'not bad' in other ways! Maybe they could go and hide somewhere, and Grapple could 'show him the ropes.' Then by the time Gears caught up, it would be too late.

He looked at Grapple's long, crafty fingers. Under his codpiece, components shifted. Bumblebee made a point of jutting it out. "Say - it's OK!" he said.

"Uh Bumblebee, of course I'm not interested in you - in that way. Not like some of those randy others. So you can relax on that score …."

Oh well, so much for that! Why did all the ones he wanted not want him? But Grapple's hand was on his arm, a gleam nevertheless in the crane's optics. "I wouldn't mind your opinion on something else, however!" he said.

"Uh – no worries …" Bumblebee looked anxiously around. He should get on his way – before somebody who knew he was confined to quarters appeared and told Grapple this. But he felt guilty now, as the crane was very nice, and Bumblebee shouldn't have just 'assumed' things.

Grapple appeared oblivious to his anxieties. From subspace, he was producing an intricately put together model. He held it up proudly. "It's a replica of the new improved solar power tower I've designed!" he said proudly.

Bumblebee thought, then, that he heard something in the distance. Was that a roar? And footsteps? "Uh – yeah!" he said, looking around again. "It's fabulous!"

Grapple put it on the floor and stood back, looking at it. "I know Prime's opinion!" he said, his voice taking on a 'strained' quality. "Especially after what happened with the Constructicons. But I can't stop myself!"

"Right!" The noises came again. Bumblebee imagined Gears roaring up the corridor with Brawn at his side. Alerts fritzed across his sensor net.

"But actually …" Grapple now also looked around. "What I really wanna know, Bee is ….." he leaned close. "Do you think Scrapper will like it?"

At that, Bumblebee's processor have a slight 'hitch. "What?"

Grapple looked disappointed. He sighed. "Yes I know," he said ruefully. "Its shameful! But you see - I've just always had a thing for big green mechs! Look – I only ask because you strike me as - discreet - Bumblebee!"

Did this mean that some Autobots did actually do it with Decepticons? Was that why Grapple's mind wasn't on Bee's new spike? For a fleeting moment, Bumblebee thought of the cassette with the piledrivers. But he had no time to ponder the matter further. There were more sounds – this time sounding like a commotion. It it was coming from the direction of the rec room.

"Yeah. I reckon he'll love it!" Bumblebee squeaked. "Sorry – gotta go!"

Grapple's optics glowed bright blue. "Really?" he said. "You see, I can't stop thinking about him …." But Bumblebee was already stepping over the model and taking off, ignoring Grapple's cry of: "But at least let me tell when you think I should give it to him!"

Bumblebee really didn't know the answer to that!

…

Back in the rec room, there was indeed unrest. "Now why'd ya have to bring up Bumblebee?" Seaspray rumbled throatily, his hand straying to his now heating groin. He was not the only one with this predicament. "Yeah Sunny!" Bluestreak scolded. "A whole day that I'd almost forgotten!"

Sideswipe sighed, shifting awkwardly to relieve his own pressurising appendage. "Yeah – why, Sunny?" he asked.

The golden warrior began to pace, angrily. "Keeping him locked up! Making his choices for him … getting Mirage to be his 'mentor' - its outrageous! Whatever happened to good old 'may the strongest crack the newbie?'"

Now there were sounds of agreement, and: 'Yeah's!' and 'It ain't right's!' "It could have been worse!" somebody said. "How?" somebody else wailed.

Smokescreen had been more than a little anxious at Sunstreaker's 'outburst.' Now he was relieved – too much so to have problems with his own equipment. Besides, he 'knew things.' And now he felt a little sorry for his fellow Autobots, as he could tell from the awkward stances and bulges, that they didn't. And now Sunny confirmed that they far from considered the 'quest' to be over.

Maybe they deserved some 'enlightenment.' Besides, a return to the distraction of good honest gambling would be good. As far as Smokey was concerned, the night was young.

"As it happens, I heard a rumour!" he said, loudly enough for them all to look at him and for Sunstreaker to stop pacing and stare at him.

"Notice there's no minibots with us today!" Standing up, he walked out among them. Sunstreaker glared at him. "Well – what of it?" he growled.

"I heard …" Smokescreen looked around the now interested set of optics. "That there were anomalies with the ancestry data. That 'one of them' is to be Bumblebee's first!"

There was silence. Several mechs looked at each other. Then there were horrified exclamations, and several cries of 'surely not!'

Sideswipe chuckled amiably. "Now come on Smokescreen!" he said. "Bumblebee's different. He ain't gonna want one of those little fraggers." But there was dirty laughter at that. "They ain't so little, believe me!" Blaster guffawed. A few others appeared to agree.

But Sunstreaker looked as though he might explode. "What'd I say would happen if they let Mirage on it?" he roared.

There was more agreement. "Hey – maybe it's a 'red herring!'" Trailbreaker suggested. "Maybe Mirage is in Bee's room 'coaching' him right now!" The others chortled, but there was now an angry quality to the laughter. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions!" Hound said. But it went ignored. "What's a herring?" somebody asked.

Sunstreaker moved so he was right in front of Smokescreen. "Yeah! Trailbreaker's got a point! I don't suppose you know where our esteemed intelligent agent is?" he snarled. Sideswipe put a hand on his arm, and Blaster rose to do the same, whilst the others now looked nervous. But the red and blue Datsun remained relaxed.

"That episode with the wheelchair kid? It got recorded," he said. "I heard a rumour that Mirage is – uh – doing a little damage contro!" Sunny still glared at him, but there were sounds of interest from the others. "Heard a rumour – just a rumour, mind – that he went to the Nemesis." And then, Smokescreen grinned. "Now I'm starting at twenty to one: That he ain't doin' Bumblebee, and he's back within the cycle!"

Now the others muttered between themselves, as serious consideration was given to this. Arm compartments were searched, and credits appeared. They were, indeed, pleased to be distracted again – although the name 'Bumblebee' was heard several more times.

Sunny, however, was less easily pacified. Raising his fist, he brought it down heavily on the back of the chair Perceptor was seated on, making the poor scientist – who had been trying to study datapads and just mind his own business - rise in alarm. There was a splintering sound and chunks of wood hurtled across the room.

"That's bullshit!" Sunstreaker roared. "Why send Mirage? We coulda all just gone and levelled the joint!"

Sideswipe's hand was on his arm again, and now Sunstreaker was being pulled over to one side. "Sunny – c'mon now!" Sideswipe hissed. "We talked about this too!" he looked over at Bluestreak. "Look, why don't we just grab Blue an' turn in?" he said. "Forget about this whole 'Bee' thing?"

But Sunstreaker shook him off. "I ain't done yet!" he growled.

…

A loud 'bang' made Bumblebee's spark flare in alarm. He quickened his pace, relieved that the entrance was only just around the next corner. But apart from his now tingling equipment - the effects of Grapple's revelations having started these up again with curious intensity - a new problem confronted the yellow minibot. A very large problem; with three horns and a tail.

The Dinobot had his back to him. With some relief, Bumblebee recognized the probable source of some of the noises. But with his bulk, the triceratops entirely blocked the corridor. A large armoured tail lashed from side to side.

He looked, to Bumblebee's dismay, to be in his usual state of 'good humour. "Slag!" mumbled Bumblebee to himself. Meaning not just the Dinobot's name.

There was nothing for it. Bumblebee would just have to try and appease him. At least all the Dinobots liked him 'Dino-sitting.' He always gave them treats, and played games, and scritched parts of them, and played 'tickles.' Perhaps he could do that now.

Bumblebee cleared his throat. "Er – hi!" he said.

Slag whipped around in his direction with surprising speed, and the Dinobot bristled, his optics flaring. He snorted, and a plume of smoke puffed out of his nose. He looked far from 'appeased.' Bumblebee despaired. If only he's brought some treats! Had he not vowed to keep some on his persons at all times, in the event of encounters like this? "You – uh – wanna play a game?" he suggested.

But the Dinobot's anger seemed to evaporate. He made a decidedly pleased sounding noise. And now he was transforming - and walking towards him. Bee relaxed. Until he looked at the Dinobot's face; for there he saw - oh no, surely it couldn't be - the same kind of lecherous leer that Bumblebee had seen on Gears face. And now, so many others.

"Little Bumblebee!" Slag growled. "Hey you new popped mech. Me Slag LIKE new popped mechs!"

Oh Primus - this was one possibility Bee had never even considered! And he also felt wracked with guilt for doubting Ratchet and Mirage's wisdom. No wonder they'd kept him locked up!

Now Slag was advancing, his hands in front of him. The fingers waggled, as though Slag couldn't wait to get them into – well Bee knew exactly what!

A shudder of horror went through the minibot, the only positive outcome being, once again, the absolute cessation of feelings under his codpiece. He held up his hands in defence. "Noooo!"

….

"I understand," Ironhide was saying. "They make my circuits sizzle. But Prime's got his reasons. We gotta go by his book!" he had just entered the rec room, following a most worried sounding call from Perceptor.

Sideswipe was looking gratefully at him. Sunstreaker had calmed down a little, but the golden twin still simmered. "Still doesn't solve the issue o'Bumblebee!" he growled. "Or my spike – knowing there's a newly 'popped' mech out there for the picking! I mean, I'm not saying Blue ain't good. But Bumblebee …. rawrr darn ….." at this point, he had to turn away.

Ironhide rolled his optics. He was about to say he'd had quite enough of the small yellow one and his 'popping,' and that it was sad enough when not even superior officers could keep themselves under control, let alone esteemed warriors. But the door burst open, so hard that it nearly flew from its hinges. A small red figure strode furiously in, followed by another.

The other Autobots, who'd returned their attention to a delighted Smokescreen now Ironhide appeared to have things under control, looked up in alarm. "Now what!" groaned the veteran.

If they thought Sunny was 'getting mad earlier, it was nothing on how Cliffjumper, ordinarily cantankerous enough anyway, looked now. He put his hands on his hips, a picture of small red fury.

"Where is he? He yelled. Even Sunstreaker took a step backward.

Bluestreak, who had had a few more 'grades, decided to be helpful. "Bumblebee? He's in his room!" he turned to the others. "Now we were just saying - weren't we, guys, about how wonderful it was that one of the minibots …" he stopped when he caught sight of Smokescreen frantically running his fingers along his mouth, telling him to 'zip it.'

But Cliffjumper didn't hear it all. "I don't mean Bumblebee!" he yelled. "I mean Gears! Where's Gears?" He started to pace the room, looking around as though he expected to see his fellow minibot crouched in a corner somewhere. His gaze fell on the roulette wheel. Smokescreen and the others shrugged.

"GEARS!" Cliffjumper wandered into the store room annex next to the TV.

Windcharger now spoke up. "I'm sorry about this!" he said. "He's a bit upset. Gears is to be Bumblebee's first! I mean, I don't mind so much, cos - well - I still think of Bee as a cousin. But you know what Cliffjumper gets like if he can't get first pick at something!"

"You're too accepting Windie! This is bullshit!" Came Cliffjumper's voice. "Gears! Come out and face me like a minibot!""

It was Sunstreaker who again strode forward. "Cliffjumper! He ain't in here!" he snarled.

The minibot reappeared. And now the golden twin's face was darkening again. "Uh – Sunny …" Sideswipe began.

"No – this is something we didn't talk about!" Sunstreaker roared. He turned to Cliffjumper, fists balling. "You're darned right it shouldn't be Gears. But who says it should be YOU?"

Cliffjumper turned so red he virtually glowed. Even from a few feet away, the others could feel the heat coming off him. "Because I'm a minibot!" he yelled. "And anyway, who else should it be?" His own hands balled into fists. "Surely not YOU?"

"Why not?" roared Sunny.

"Can't you see I'm not in the mood for jokes!" Cliffjumper snarled back, puffing out his bumper.

Then, Cliffjumper was advancing towards the much bigger golden mech, Windcharger's cries of 'no Cliffie!' going unheeded. And Sideswipe tried to hang on to Sunny, but it was to no avail. There was a splintering of concrete, and a great groove appeared in the floor where Sideswipe's heels were dragged along.

"Put em up!" yelled Cliffjumper.

"No problem!" growled Sunstreaker.

The Autobots had fallen silent. But Smokescreen grinned delightedly. "Well – the yellow one's big, but the red one's angrier. Taking bets right now on who pulls this one off!" he proclaimed.

There was pause; followed by a fumbling to get credits, as the two mechs began to circle. Ironhide -who had watched the whole sequence in the hopeless hope that he would not, in fact, have to do anything - decided enough was enough. Walking into the centre, he pulled out his very large canon. "Now if you'd all just CALM DOWN ….."

But the door opened again. And this time all the Autobots jumped, and even Cliffjumper and Sunstreaker drew back. For it was Prowl who strode crisply in, closely followed by Jazz. Prowl looked from one mech to the next, to the next.

"Autobots!" he snapped! "Your attention, please! I have an announcement!"

…..

"Now c'mon, Slag! Look at the size of you and the size of me!"

But the Dinobot only grinned wider. "Me Slag don't mind size! Me Slag like small popped bot!"

By chance, Bumblebee noticed an alcove at the side of the corridor, usually full of surveillance gear but today, conveniently empty. If he pressed himself at the back, it might make it harder for Slag to get him. He edged into it - just as heavy tramping feet noises sounded, and around the corner came more Dinobots - Grimlock , with Sludge at his side.

Well that was 'it,' thought Bumblebee. If they all got hold of him he would have to call for help. And not Mirage or Spike, but somebody here! Meanwhile, he shrank back, fumbling with an arm compartment in which he now recalled was a small handgun. It wouldn't do any of them any damage. But it might give him time – to get past them and to the entrance.

But Grimlock and Sludge evidently hadn't even noticed him. They came to a halt. "Wheeljack got special job, you come with us, Slag!" Grimlock said.

Slag folded his arms. "Me Slag no wanna come. Me Slag want popped minibot!"

Grimlock sounded cross. "Wheeljack say no popped minibot!" he growled. "Me Grimlock no have time to look for popped minibot! Wheeljack say he got other treat for Dinobots. Me Grimlock in charge. Me Grimlock say we go to Wheeljack - NOW!"

Slag went to protest again. But Grimlock strode forward, and Bumblebee watched as he grabbed Slag by the scruff of the neck. They tramped past, Grimlock and Sludge - to Bee's overwhelming relief – dragging the protesting Slag and ignoring his cries of: "But he Bumblebee, he here! Slag see new popped mech right here!"

Relieved, Bumblebee stuck his head out of the alcove. But only for a split second – for more footsteps echoed, and around the corner came none other than Prowl and Jazz.

The minibot froze. 'Game up!' He thought. This really is 'it.' He thought of comming Mirage again. But what could Mirage do? No – he simply had to face his fate.

But the two special ops team members appeared to have other things on their minds. As they passed the alcove, Bee saw that Prowl had his arm around Jazz – and then his optics widened at the sight of Jazz's hand firmly on Prowl's aft. A little further along, Jazz made a grab for the tactician, pushing him against the wall. "It's all over – its gonna be Gears!" Jazz was saying. "An' it's left me horny as the crack o'dawn!. You know I like doin' it in these kinda places, Prowlie …."

Bumblebee froze. All it would take was for one of them to turn their head and they would see him right there! But no – Jazz was kissing Prowl passionately – and now Bee's other problem returned with a vehemence. As pressure began to rise inside his codpiece, the minibot concluded that this really had not been an easy day in his life.

Bumblebee squirmed in the alcove, looking at Jazz's oozing curves, and warring with an intense urge to run out and say: 'Hey! Gears didn't get me. I'm still up for grabs!' But no – Prowl was too much a stickler for duty to allow that. He'd be marched straight back to Gears! If they didn't arrest him for 'peeping' at them.

With an effort, Bumblebee managed to retract his spike; and then, to his relief, Prowl was pushing Jazz away. "Jazz, please! We have to inform the others!" Prowl said crisply. "Think about our image!" Jazz laughed. "I am thinkin' about yours. Too much!" And he kissed him again. But only briefly; and then they were on their way.

Just before they vanished from sight, Bumblebee heard Mirage's name mentioned and wondered again about the spy. But there was no time to comm him now. All efforts absolutely had now to go into getting out of the Ark.

Ignoring his throbbing equipment, Bumblebee sprinted the last hundred yards or so and then. there was the exit dead ahead. But it was closed! And, worse, stopping in front of it, evidently putting yet another layer of detectors in as if there weren't enough already, was Red Alert.

There was nothing for it. Shameful though this was. Pulling out the handgun, Bumblebee advanced on the security chief.

…..

There was now a tense silence in the rec room. "A decision has been made - about Bumblebee!" Said Prowl. It has been decided that a fellow minibot will best suit his needs, and this is why – er - Gears has been selected for that purpose."

A mumbling followed, interspersed with comments of "Yeah, we know!"

Prowl's optic ridges furrowed. "You do?" he said.

"Yeah!" Sunstreaker and Cliffjumper said together; and then looked at each other and glowered. It was only through a great effort that they had managed to keep off each other since Prowl had entered the room.

"Yeah, they know!" Ironhide spoke up. "It was on account o'Gears being 'the one' that these two here – had a little difference of opinion!"

"I see …." Prowl looked flustered. Well in that case – I have some other news. There was an – incident – as you know – at the Minibot Presentation Parade. Some footage was taken …"

"Oh we know about that too! Bluestreak piped up. "Mirage has gone to the Nemesis …." The others nodded in agreement.

Prowl's normally composed equilibrium was now sadly uncomposed. "Well I'm wondering if there's anything you don't know!" he snapped.

"Yeah!" Jazz spoke up now. "And I'm wondering how you found out!"

All heads turned towards Smokescreen, who had, to his great relief, managed to conceal the fight 'takings' whilst Prowl was talking. The Datsun shrugged. "Just a rumour!" he said.

Prowl now noticed the roulette wheel. He looked at Smokescreen sternly. There will be words!" he said.

"Anyway," Jazz went on, "Mirage has not returned. And here's th'good news all. It's lookin' like this is the end of our ceasefire with the Decepticons!"

The cheer which went up was almost deafening. But it was cut short. For Windcharger was suddenly yelling for everyone to be quiet. And this was so unusual, coming from the shy and rather retiring minibot, that everybody instantly took notice.

His optics widened. "Gears just commed!" he said. "He said Bumblebee's – escaped! A little while ago!" A gasp went up, then there was silence as Windcharger evidently listened some more. "He's stuck in Bee's room!" he said incredulously. "He says he was too ashamed to ask us to get him out, but now he's got no choice. Bee jammed the door!"

Mouths fell open as everyone looked at each other aghast. But they had no time to reflect, for even as Windcharger finished talking, the emergency voice-comm blared from the wall with the frantic voice of Red Alert. "Autobots, help!" the security chief wailed. "I have come under attack. It's Bumblebee. He's gone raving mad! He threatened to kill me! He's left the ArK"

And now a clamour broke out. All this news at once – it was just too much to handle. Prowl held up a hand. "Autobots please! I'm sure there's an explanation for all this. We know how Red can overreact …."

"I'm not overreacting!" Red Alert wailed.

"Anyway, the point is – the Decepticons …." Prowl tried to continue.

But now there was a new excitement in the ranks, a bubbling over of hope previously thought vanquished. "The hell with the Decepticons!" Sunstreaker roared. "Bee ain't mad – we all know what'll sort him out. And it obviously ain't Gears!" For once, Cliffjumper didn't appear to disagree. "May the best mech win!" he roared.

Any further attempts by Prowl to regain order were drowned out as there was a rush for the door. "Autobots please!" he cried. And then the tactician saw, to his dismay, that Jazz was among the throng. The black and white mech turned at the door. "Y'know what I always say, Prowlie!" he grinned, wickedly. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!"

Prowl considered this for a brief moment. "You're right!" he said. Before taking off after them in long strides.

…..

Once outside, Bumblebee transformed, taking off up the rough desert surface in a cloud of dust. And now, he commed Spike. After all, what else was there to do? After all that had just transpired, he was more than just a wanted newly popped mech. He was a criminal! on a par with the Decepticons. He would be court-martialled - and probably shot!

Bumblebee didn't know what Spike could do about the now miserable state of affairs, and part of him felt terrible for even involving the human – especially after so long since he'd commed him. And worse, uppermost in Bumblebee's mind was a need even greater than that of telling the human everything. The need, oh the burning necessity – something he absolutely must do before it was 'all over'- he must use his new gear. At least once.

To his relief, Spike answered straight away. "

/Bee! Where are ya?/ he chirped, delightedly. /I've been chewing myself up with worry. What the hell went on at that parade?/

Bumblebee crashed his gears as he negotiated the sharp bend which led on to the bitumen track to the town where Spike lived. /Spike I gotta see you!/ he wailed. /I'm so sorry for what went down. I gotta explain. I need you!/

Now Spike sounded worried. /Say - calm down, Bumblebee!/ he said. /I'll meet you at the south canyon, OK? I'll get my Dad to give me a lift!/

/No!/ Bumblebee howled. /No Dads! I gotta hide somewhere! I'm headed for the warehouse!/

Spike would know where that was. He had to know. It was a deserted building on the outskirts where they had rendezvoused before. It wouldn't serve as a hiding place for long. But the others - who surely were after him by now - would, indeed, head first for the south canyon. The warehouse would be a temporary refuge.

/Sure thing, Bee! Say - we'll go to Chip's place!/ Spike was saying. And now he was breathless; he must be running.

/Noooo!/ Bumblebee yelled, feeling his temperature rise to dangerous limits as his speed rose to a hundred and eighty, and the two hundred miles an hour. He winced as pain in his 'equipment' overrode arousal again. /Chip must hate me. After what happened!/

/He doesn't, Bee!/ Spike reassured him. /He's been as worried as me!/

Bumblebee supposed this was something. /Well - tell him to cut off all connections with Teletraan one!/ he squeaked, cringing as he overtook several vehicles and hoping fervently none of them was a police car. That would be all he needed!

/Geez - that's a tall order, Bumblebee!/ Spike said.

/You have to!/ squeaked the yellow minibot.

/I'll do it, OK? I'll do it!/ Spike yelled back, puffing.

And now, as Bumblebee approached the warehouse, he saw Spike running up. The human paused to get his breath. And now he was smiling and waving. /Spike, get inside!/ Bumblebee yelled. /This ain't the usual kinda situation!/

Even as he said it there was a roar in the distance. A familiar roar. Which usually would have been oh so welcome but at this point in time, filled the minibot with nothing but complete dread. Autobots' engines. En masse.

"It's OK, Bee" Spike called out as he skidded to a halt. "I know y'like to be independent an' all, but I couldn't let ya do it. The Decepticons won't get you. I called the Autobots!"

Transforming, Bee looked at him in despair. "You don't understand!" he wailed. "They're who I gotta hide from!"

….

Next chapter: How can Mirage aid this situation from his own predicament on the Nemesis?

Thanks all for reading. Reviews always welcome ;-)