Mikaela, 'Trice, and I all buckled into Trailbreaker's middle bench, and I drew a shaky breath as the plane began to move. Our suped-up C-17 nicknamed Daisy lifted off the runway, but this wasn't the nerve-wracking part yet. Our flight plan was to climb to the five miles or so of altitude that C-17's typically fly at, activate some 'bot-built human-protecting force fields so advanced (and, frankly, experimental) that they may as well be magic, and then add some energon-based fuel to Daisy's secondary propulsion system. That would result in us shooting up another thousand miles, basically following the same flight path as an ICBM (or Optimus). From there, we could fly wicked-fast all the way to New Archon (and, if all went well, not get squashed like bugs). I couldn't decide if Daisy had been reengineered into an X-class space-plane-in-disguise or if she was a cheap knock-off of the Iron Will. Maybe somewhere in-between.
"Primus," I muttered as my ears popped. The C-17's cargo bay was pressurized right now, but even with all the fancy Cybertronian tech, Daisy was far from perfect.
"Okay, we're flying now," 'Trice announced with all the annoyance a seven-year-old is capable of. "You said we could watch a movie when we were in the air, Breaker!"
"Yes, I did," his Troy Breaker holoform easily agreed from the front seat, and the BluRay-player screen folded down from the ceiling. "What would you like to see?"
"Frozen 1!" she happily exclaimed. "Then Frozen 2!"
"We'll probably only have time for one movie," Breaker said, "if that."
"Hm. Let's watch Frozen 2, then. Daemon's missing just like those Arundel soldiers, and he's going to come home just like they did."
I glanced over at Mikaela, and while her eyes were grim, she swallowed hard and pulled 'Trice just a little closer.
"Frozen 2, it is," Breaker announced.
…
I should have insisted on a different movie. I got all choked up over Olaf (okay, not really over a cartoon snowman but over all the other very-real losses we'd recently faced that he managed to remind us of).
Just when we were getting to the part where the dam breaks, it felt like the world exploded. Trailbreaker rolled, and then we were all loose in the hold. I hit a bulkhead hard, knocking the wind out of me and ringing my bell.
"I've got this!" I heard Trailbreaker say, sounding strained. "It was a Seeker missile."
'Trice screamed "MOMMA! DADDY!" and, gasping for breath, I looked around, squinting and trying to focus on her. It didn't help that we were suddenly in zero-gravity.
"TRACKS!" I heard Bumblebee shout. "Stabilize the plane!"
I blinked several times and shook my head before I could finally focus. RaFly was in her root mode and had caught both 'Trice and Mikaela in her hands, while Bumblebee had Annabelle. She was curled up in the fetal position in his palm and sobbing uncontrollably. Tracks was already launching himself out of the rear hatch, and I gasped for air as he took all the oxygen with him before it closed behind him. Bumblebee started making his way toward me, his feet magnetized to the floor.
"It's okay," Mikaela was saying to 'Trice as she, too, struggled for air until the hold pressurized again. At least that part of the plane still worked.
Memories of red optics and sparks shattering swarmed me, and we were close enough to New Archon for Optimus to sense it all.
You need to focus, he told me. I'm in no condition for battle, but I can take this for you, Sam. Give me those memories.
How? I demanded, opening my own spark even more.
Instead of trying to explain, he just reached across the bond and sort of…siphoned off all those trauma memories from my conscious mind. It left me a lot more clear-headed.
"You're bleeding!" 'Trice shrieked, and sure enough, blood was pooling in a bubble on Mikaela's arm in the weightlessness.
"I'm okay," Mikaela said. "It's just a little cut. Are you okay?"
Eyes wide, 'Trice nodded.
Looking up at RaFly, Mikaela asked, "First aid kit?"
"In a second. Hold on!"
Bumblebee dove the last few yards to catch me in his other hand, and then we were tossed around again, though less violently than last time. Still, I fought down the bile, trying to keep the contents of my stomach where they belonged.
After a few seconds of that, I opened my eyes to see droplets of blood and energon floating around the hold, but Mikaela was reaching out to hug an eager 'Trice and Annabelle was still sobbing, so I figured they were okay for the moment.
Reassured, I looked around a little more. Bluestreak held a pale-but-unhurt al-Sharif and Leo, who had a head-wound that was contributing a lot more of the free-floating blood than Mikaela. For once, the chatterbox of a mech was silent, but Leo was reciting a "Nuestro Padre" prayer, and that was its own kind of freak-out.
All the 'bots were magnetized to the floor, but Trailbreaker was holding his arms in a funny way, and his optics were offline. I suddenly realized he was shielding us – the whole plane. An entire C-17. How long could he keep that up? I also realized that's why he'd dumped us loose in the hold after rolling – he needed to transform to be able to turn on a shield that large.
There were sounds like explosions, and I winced. "What hit us?"
"It's Starscream's trine," RaFly announced. "Prowl believes Skywarp is warping past the BINDS satellites."
"How in the name of Primus does he have that kind of range?" Hound demanded.
"Unknown, but Skywarp was present both when Daemon was kidnapped and now," she said in quick, clipped tones. "We've only detected the three of them. We are currently in free-fall. Tracks reports that the fire on what's left of engine four was extinguished due to lack of oxygen, but the hull has been compromised. Wheeljack reports that the secondary propulsion system is slagged to the Pit, but he and the pilots agree that, with minimal repairs, the C-17's original hardware can probably get us home – or close enough. What are your orders, Commander Bumblebee?"
"We're in free-fall from a thousand miles up!" I shouted. "How minimal are the repairs we're talking about?"
"We've got a little over five minutes before it would even be possible to use primary propulsion."
"I'll flatten the bottom of the forcefield," Trailbreaker ground out, "make it less aerodynamic, see if I can't buy you just a few more minutes."
"That should let me complete the repairs in time," Evac said, "if someone else can take care of Mirage." Somehow the partition had mostly survived us pinballing around the hold.
"Go!" Mikaela ordered. "I've got him." To 'Trice, Mikaela said, "Annabelle's really scared. Can you help her be brave for a few minutes?"
Again 'Trice nodded, wide-eyed, and Mikaela leaped from RaFly's hand toward the makeshift med bay. In the weightlessness of freefall, she all but swam there, Wheelie following. Serious as death, 'Trice accepted being handed off to Bumblebee and cuddled up to Annabelle.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said, stroking Annabelle's hair like Mikaela had done to 'Trice so many times after bad dreams. "Shhh. It's okay." 'Trice was totally proving herself to be Mikaela's daughter today, even if the continuing explosions outside contradicted her.
Evac ducked out through the rear hatch, and I struggled for air again for a few seconds.
"Trailbreaker," Bumblebee said, "you got another five minutes in you?"
"I'll have to," he grimly answered.
Hound pulled some kind of kit from subspace and retrieved a small spool of tubing from it. "I'll make sure he has the energon, one way or another. I've given him a walking transfusion before, and hopefully I'll have a chance to again someday."
Only Hound would turn that into a silver lining.
"For the C-17's propulsion to work correctly, Trailbreaker will have to drop all shielding," RaFly announced. "We will have to exit the shield almost nose-down and the pilots will have to pull us out of the dive. From that moment, I estimate that we'll have roughly another twelve minutes before we will be in range of New Archon's defenses. It will be a firefight the entire time. Again, awaiting your orders, Bumblebee."
"Right," 'Bee said. "RaFly, you organize us and coordinate our defense of the plane. Let the pilots know the plan, too."
"Understood. I'm also coordinating with Prowl. Bluestreak, your sniper rifle is our greatest asset."
"I'm used to firing from behind cover," he hesitantly said, "not from the roof of a plane going more than 500 miles per hour."
"I'll provide cover," Bumblebee reassured him.
"As will Tracks and Evac," RaFly said.
"Then count me in. Umm…" Bluestreak looked uncertainly at the two humans in his hands, and RaFly opened her own hands, silently offering to protect them.
Only then did I remember that RaFly was a defensive strategist for the 'bots. That's why 'Bee had delegated all that to her, and why she wasn't taking up arms herself.
Bluestreak transferred al-Sharif and Leo to her and then pulled an enormous rifle from subspace. Immediately, he began tinkering with it.
"If you see anything unexpected out there, it's one of my holograms," Hound added.
"Trailbreaker," RaFly continued, "half of one of our plane's wings is gone. Prowl calculates it's the weakest point in this strategy. Can you reinforce it with your forcefield?"
"I can try."
"Once we're ready for you to drop the defensive shielding, then do. Hound, what's the shield's draw on your own energon reserves?"
"Minimal right now, but we've both been topped off recently. We're going to be okay. I'm just insurance."
RaFly briskly nodded. "Understood."
Turning her attention to me, she said, "We'll need the rear hatch open for this firefight, which will not leave you enough oxygen. All humans will need to shelter in anchored seats on the other side of the triage where there are tethered oxygen masks."
"What about Mikaela?" I demanded. "She's treating Mirage."
"There are a limited number of portable oxygen masks aboard. The pilots are finding one for her right now. Retreat to the seats, Prime. That's an order."
It wasn't often that a 'bot pulled rank on me, but I nodded in agreement this one time. "Keep Mikaela safe for me," I pleaded as 'Bee set me on my feet. One step sent me flying in the weightlessness, and 'Bee caught me again. RaFly set Leo and al-Sharif on 'Bee's shoulder where they could hang on to him and pointed toward the front of the plane.
Firmly, RaFly said, "We're trying to keep you all safe. Go!"
'Bee brought us past Mirage and Mikaela, who already had the oxygen mask and a backpack-tank or something on and was hooking into a harness that tethered her to the ceiling. Mirage was disturbingly still on the repair berth, but it was the shocking image of him missing a quarter of his torso that was burned into my brain.
One by one, 'Bee set us down just beyond the triage. There was a line of comfortable-looking airplane seats there, all facing forward at the hold's front wall. I knew that the pilots were just on the other side of that wall – all us humans were being grouped together for our protection. "We'll keep you safe," 'Bee promised me, but it was 'Trice who answered, "We know. Thank you!"
Al-Sharif helped Annabelle, who had pulled herself together enough to stop crying – get settled into a chair and buckled in. Then she covered her eyes again with her fists. How she was going to make it through this, I had no idea.
Mikaela checked in on us just seconds after 'Bee left, mostly to examine Leo's head wound. (I was relieved to see that her own cut had already been treated.) "I caught bits and pieces," she said, cleaning his wound almost viciously with an alcohol wipe. "We're going into a firefight?"
"Yeah," I slowly said.
"Wheelie," she declared, pulling an oversized bandage from her first aid kit, "I need something that would let me take down a 'con."
"Ya got me at your side, Warrior Goddess," he said, and I aimed a kick at him. Since he was magnetized to the floor and I wasn't, it didn't work very well.
"When Shockwave attacked and captured Annabelle and Sarah, there was a bazooka-like thing we used to shoot grenades at them," she said, carefully applying the bandage to Leo's forehead. "Give me something like that."
"If ya don't trust me to keep ya safe…"
She wheeled on him. "Beatrice is the only child I have left in the entire universe and I'll die before I lose her, too, so I need something to fight back with."
With ill grace, he transformed and produced the kind of launcher I remembered from that ambush. Wheelie presented it to her with a bow, and she hefted it and the first-aid kit. "I've got a patient to monitor, but those 'cons won't get to you unless it's over my dead body."
With that less-than-encouraging thought, she returned to the triage area, Wheelie in tow.
Leo pressed his hand against the bandage on his head to help slow the bleeding. "How we gonna know what's going on out there?
Al-Sharif took his seat beside Annabelle. "If we're still alive in twenty minutes, we won. Buckle in."
Suddenly remembering 'Trice, I turned to her, but she was buckling herself in as instructed. "You okay, sweetheart?" I asked as I sat down beside her and reached for my own belts.
She looked up at me, her dark eyes serious but unafraid. "Bluestreak and Tracks are protecting us?"
"They will be in a minute."
She confidently nodded. "Then we'll be okay." Looking at her seatbelt, she tugged at the loose shoulder-straps. "Is it supposed to be like that?"
"No, 'Trice, let me help you…" I made the belts snug on her while Leo and al-Sharif also got strapped in. Then I pulled the oxygen mask from the wall and showed her how to put it on.
I could tell when Trailbreaker dropped the shielding because I could hear the wind rushing over the plane. Annabelle started sobbing again when, a couple of heartbeats later, the pilots started pulling Daisy out of that dive and the G-forces pressed us down into our seats. The metal of the ship groaned ominously, but the plane's motion was steady.
Outside, though, it sounded like we were flying through fireworks. It was pitched battle, and the explosions did rock us from time to time, though nothing like that impact that took out one of our engines.
It felt like an eternity before the explosions stopped. Thankfully, Annabelle quieted when they did. I still didn't dare take off my oxygen mask just yet.
What felt like ages later (but was probably just a few minutes), Mikaela joined us again, without an oxygen mask. Seeing her, 'Trice threw off her mask, unbuckled her seatbelt and ran to her. Mikaela met her halfway, kneeling to hold her tight. Then 'Trice gestured with one hand, waving me in.
Smiling, I caught them both in a group hug. We all held each other for half a minute, grateful to be alive and to be under New Archon's protective firepower.
Annabelle whimpered and Mikaela's head shot up again. "Annabelle."
"I tried to help her be brave, Momma, but she's really scared."
"You did good," Mikaela assured her. "Let me see if I can help, though."
I felt it as we again started to descend, and 'Trice and I buckled ourselves back in, too.
Like with commercial planes, we had to stay in our seats for the first few minutes after we landed. Unlike with commercial planes, the reason we lingered was so that Ratchet and Evac could unload Mirage first and whisk him away to New Archon's med bay. Will and Sarah were the first people to enter our little seating area and human medics followed hard on their heels and began looking over Leo.
I guessed the treaty about hiding the 'bots from minors was out the window now, partly because they'd already gone public and partly because 'Trice had already seen them all in their base modes already. So with 'Trice between me and Mikaela and holding one of each of our hands, we made our way through the hold and toward the New Archon community center. It was more of a pavilion at the moment, though, since so much was still under construction.
Bumblebee was a few steps ahead of us as we descended the C-17's ramp, and he caught Arcee's hands in his, resting his fore-helm against hers as kin.
I could hear Beatus excitedly talking to his father over their bond.
Surprising me and Mikaela, 'Trice let go of both of our hands and ran past us to Arcee, throwing her arms around her leg and babbling, "You were right, Besty! You were right! Daddy's new friends kept us safe."
Arcee looked down in surprise, more than a little amused by Beatrice's enthusiasm, though she was as confused as everyone else by this reaction. Wait, isn't Besty…
Her imaginary friend, I said, my brow furrowing in confusion.
Bumblebee looked at me, even more puzzled. Her imaginary friend is an Autobot?
A female Autobot, Arcee smugly corrected. But not me.
You told her?! Ironhide demanded, his indignation swelling across our clan-bonds. (He and Chromia had been operating gun turrets on opposite sides of the island to protect Daisy on our way in and were just now headed our way.) After making us wait 15 years to tell Annabelle, you told her about us?
I didn't, I protested. None of us did!
"You're not my Besty," 'Trice suddenly declared, puzzled but still not scared.
Shock poured over the clan bonds from Arcee as she asked me, What does Besty look like?
I pulled up a memory of one of Beatrice's creations from a couple of weeks ago. It was a red body with a head, arms, and legs and…bright blue eyes…
Elita. Arcee's shock was drowned out by a roar of joy. Kneeling down closer to my daughter, she softly said, "You're right, little one. I'm not Besty. I'm her sister."
"Oh!" 'Trice exclaimed like that explained everything. Then, even more suspicious than before, she asked, "Are you the one who likes to play or the one who likes to fight?"
A jumble of emotion tore through the clan – hope, amazement, disbelief.
Arcee managed to say, "The one who likes to play."
"Whew!" My daughter relaxed in obvious relief, and Chromia's indignation flared over the clan bond at that.
Oblivious, 'Trice grinned up at the femme. "I should have known that! You're wearing pink!"
Chromia pulled up and, transforming, all but stormed to her sister's side. "What the frag has Elita been saying about me?"
Beatrice's eyes widened and she shuffled around behind Arcee's leg a little. "She said to tell you that I like your guns and you'd be nice to me?"
And then it finally hit us – the entire clan. Though extinguished, Elita had somehow been communicating with my daughter. The stunned silence echoed in a half-dozen minds.
Mikaela was the one who finally broke the silence, walking to 'Trice and kneeling to be level with her. She searched her eyes, and I saw the grief on my wife's face. "Besty looks like them?"
'Trice solemnly nodded.
Chromia was still fuming, though. "What did she tell you to say to her?" she demanded, nodding toward Arcee.
Almost shyly, she said, "That she has a secret. A really big, really important secret, too secret for even me to know. But Besty knows all about it." Looking up at Arcee, she added, "She's really happy for you."
Silence fell again – worry overflowing from one spark to another as our thoughts turned to protecting Beatus and keeping him hidden, especially with Daemon's kidnapping.
Prowl shouldered his way into the loose circle of humans and 'bots surrounding Arcee and 'Trice. "Report. What's the delay here?"
Mikaela straightened to her feet. "Apparently Beatrice's imaginary friend is Arcee's sister."
Prowl glared at Chromia, but before he could say anything, she raised her hands in surrender. "Don't look at me, Prowl. It's Elita One she's been talking to."
"Prowl…" 'Trice said, tilting her head like she was puzzling over something. "...Prowler?"
"What did you call me?" Prowl demanded, looking sharply at 'Trice.
Suddenly 'Trice waved her hands excitedly. "Oh, oh, oh! Prowler! Prowler! Fancy says, 'Hi'!"
At that, the light in Prowl's optics blinked out and he tipped over.
"Is he okay?" 'Trice asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
"Yeah," I said, recovering a little from the shock. "He was so happy he...fainted."
"So let me guess," 'Bee said, crouching low. "Besty's 'little brother' is called Fancy because he does everything with style?"
"You know Fancy, too?" 'Trice asked, delighted.
Slowly, Bumblebee said, "Yeah…except we called him Jazz."
Shaking herself into action, Arcee said, "I'll start Prowl's reboot sequence."
While we waited for him to come around, Chromia asked 'Trice, "You've really...talked with...her? With your imaginary friend?"
She cheerfully nodded in answer.
"When?" Arcee asked, incredulous.
"Oh, I dream about her all the time. She shows me such pretty things. She's a queen, so I get to be a princess. She said so, and she makes the rules. Or some of them, anyway. Fancy listens to her, but only sometimes."
Ironhide snorted in amusement. "That sounds like Jazz."
Optimus came striding in from the direction of the med bay. One of his legs was unpainted still and he limped slightly. But I could feel the waves of disbelief and eager hope washing off of him, and I knew he wouldn't miss this conversation, no matter how much he might piss off Ratchet.
At the sound of his shuffling gait, 'Trice turned and looked up. "Wow, you're huge!"
Optimus crouched down (his partially-repaired leg creaking ominously) so that he was on his knees and elbows. "Welcome, little one," he softly said.
Her jaw fell open in surprise and her head bobbed with it for emphasis. "You sound just like Uncle Optimus!"
He chuckled as he turned the tables on her. "That's because I am your Uncle Optimus," he answered and activated his holoform.
She looked from the holoform to my brother's optics a couple of times, and then a slow smile spread over her face. "Besty likes you, I think. She always asks about you. Do you know her?"
"She and I are…close."
"Like best friends or boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Both," he rumbled.
She tilted her head dubiously – Disney cartoons had not prepared her for that. Actually… "Like Anha and Kristoff," I added.
Her eyes got wide again. "Have you kissed her?"
Trailbreaker stepped closer. "'Trice, you said our new friends would keep us safe. How did you know?"
"Breaker?" she asked, looking him over.
"Yes, this is the real me."
She nodded, taking it all in stride. "Besty told me."
"How did she know?" Hound demanded.
"Fancy told her. He knows lots of stuff. He has the dandelion-fuzz dreams, too, and he's teaching me how to steer."
Over the bond, I asked, Did that make sense to anyone?
I got a chorus of Nope and Afraid not and Negative.
Prowl sat bolt upright and looked at 'Trice. "Report."
Her brow furrowed in confusion, and Optimus' quiet amusement swept through all his kin. "Yes, a one-on-one interview will probably be wisest."
"Most coherent, for sure," Trailbreaker said.
"I need to be there with her," Mikaela insisted.
"It will be best if you stay with her," Optimus agreed. "Sam and I will likely be required elsewhere."
"As will I," Prowl said, climbing to his feet. Turning to RaFly, he ordered, "Don't bother with a full report; just give me an info dump of the battle and then get to the bottom of…" He waved vaguely in Beatrice's direction. "...this."
"Did Besty or Fancy tell you anything else about our future?" Arcee asked as Mikaela and 'Trice moved closer to RaFly.
'Trice hesitated and then slowly shook her head. "No, not really."
"Come on," RaFly invited. "Let's go somewhere a bit more comfortable."
Mikaela and 'Trice only made it a few steps before 'Trice turned around and asked Optimus again, "Did you ever kiss her?"
Sudden and very-human bashfulness swept over him, but he admitted, "Not as you probably mean the term, but you could say we were romantic partners. I was… affectionate with her. Quite often, actually."
"I knew it!" she crowed and then continued on with RaFly and Mikaela.
Author's Note (Eowyn77): Just in case anyone thinks Sam and Mikaela were kind of dense for not figuring out sooner that there was something big going on with "Besty," my own daughter had an imaginary friend at Beatrice's age, and she spoke so often and so convincingly about her friend that for about six months we thought she was real. (It wasn't until we tried to contact the parents of my daughter's friend to arrange a playdate that my Faramir and I figured out what was really going on.) Once Sam and Mikaela found out Besty wasn't actually enrolled in Beatrice's school, it was a logical and natural assumption that she was just an imaginary friend. Kids do a lot of strange, improbable, and even spooky things, and as parents, we just learn to roll with it. Nobody expects that the kid they're potty-training or teaching to not pick their nose is really a mystic and seer.
