Archive of Our Own ^beta

Some days it really wasn’t worth getting up. Sam Witwicky found that a late September morning was such a day. The night had been rather short, filled with last-minute studying, cramming everything about theoretical thermodynamics into his brain that was even possible. He had slept maybe four hours, then dragged himself over to the campus to sit in with a few dozen other hopeful engineering students who looked as tired as he did. Professor Matthews was a rather demanding teacher, allowing no slacking, and whoever fell asleep in his classes was kicked out. So he had a very attentive group of young men and women, all slaving over assignments.

Sam found that practical courses were as easy as pie, but theory was as hard as it was for everyone. He had to study just like the others and there was nothing that made it easier for him, not even his new abilities.

Three coffees and one exam later, Sam collapsed into the Camaro that was waiting for him in the parking lot.

“Man,” he groaned.

“How did it go?” Bumblebee asked.

“I think my brain’s going to collapse any moment now. I think I’m dead.”

There was a chuckle from his friend. ::Too tired to go for a drive?:: Bumblebee asked, using something new between them.

::You drive, I’ll enjoy the rush:: Sam replied, smiling.

Their way of communicating had taken a while to settle. At first Sam had been slightly freaked that his mind had the ability to uplink to the mechanoids that were his friends. It had been because Bumblebee had started to use it frequently that Sam had gotten used to it. It still was strange, but not really all that freaky any more. And since the others didn’t uplink, he could handle one of the mechanoids using this way of communication.

Add to it that Bumblebee was always around him, felt comfortable and familiar, was a known friend, and Sam was way more relaxed than even around Jazz.

The Camaro joined the late afternoon traffic and headed out of Mission City. Sam leaned back, hands on the steering wheel to keep the cover. He let his mind drift, felt the powerful thrum of Bumblebee’s engine, was aware of every moving part in his robot friend, and it felt… really good. Normal. Nice.

He was looking forward to the coming weekend. His parents were away for some obscure birthday party from a friend of his Dad’s and he would be at the Autobot base. Actually he would be working.

Sam grinned.

And it would be fun.

He closed his eyes, felt the continuing thrum. It changed smoothly into a pulsing light, into the coolness of the spark that was everything Bumblebee. It was the very core of his being, his soul and the home of his mind, his emotions, his heart. It could exist without a body, but the body could never be more than a mindless machine without the spark.

…

He wasn’t one of the tallest Cybertronians, but he was fast and he knew his way around. He was a spy. He was a scout. He could think fast on his feet and he always made the best of any given situation, be it in battle or throughout training.

Testing his wheels, Bumblebee accelerated, new to this planet, but never new to a form. As his body took on a new shape, chose a transformation, his mind adjusted. It was easy. It was how they functioned.

Everything was so much smaller than he was used to. Sam had been surprised how organic this world was, how populated, and how advanced these organics were. A lot had surprised him, but he had learned fast with internet uplinks and by just watching.

And he had discovered music as communication.

Sam waited in front of a red light, his hologram in place, then drove across the intersection to…

…

::“Sam!”::

He jerked out of the deep uplink, blinking in confusion. Sam needed a moment to realize where he was and who he was with – and what he had done.

“Bee…?”

“You linked, Sam.”

“Oh. Uhm. Sorry. Oh god, Bee, I did it again, right? I deep-linked!”

Bumblebee had slowed down and come to a stop, “Yes, but it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I… I was you again,” Sam whispered, horrified. Not by the fact, but by his deeds.

“How did it feel?” the mech asked curiously.

He thought about it for a moment. “Pretty cool,” Sam confessed with a small smile.

He felt Bumblebee’s amusement. “It’s pretty cool to feel you, too,” his friend said.

“I just wish I could control it better,” Sam added. He knew he sounded like a petulant child.
“It’s like… it’s irresistible.”

“Only as long as you haven’t learned complete control.”

He sank deeper into the seat. “Yeah. Sucks. What if it happens with the others, too?”

So far it had only been Bumblebee where he had hitched a ride into the positronic mind, riding on memories and emotions of an alien being. It had been really cool, true, but it was also frightening.

“You’ll learn,” Bumblebee told him, sounding very convinced.

Sam wasn’t so sure. It had been months now and he wasn’t getting better. At least in his eyes. But maybe this was a life-long learning.

Man, that would suck.

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Ratchet was fascinated by the boxes filled with machinery from Sector Seven. With the disbanding of the secret government research group, all their experiments had been shipped to the Autobot base. Ratchet had been and always was the first to unpack something new, scan it, take it apart, categorize it, and then decide what to do with it. Bumblebee helped sometimes, as did Sam, who was the perfect assistant for the tiny things. With his interest in engineering and Cybertronian technology, it was a learning experience for the college student each and every time.

Add to that Sam’s still-developing abilities as a technopath and Ratchet couldn’t really complain. Aside from a few little problems, like blowing up one of the scanners, Sam had control over his powers. Sometimes he was overwhelmed when three or even four of the mechanoids were together, maybe even communicated among themselves, but luckily he had Bumblebee as a kind of anchor. Ratchet had been surprised and then fascinated by the fact that Sam anchored himself in the other mind and Bumblebee felt no averse reaction. For him it was like linking to one of his own kind.

It warranted more research and Ratchet kept an eye on developments.

The medic surveyed the contents of the latest box. All of it had been marked as ‘unfinished’ or ‘abandoned’. He had read the files on everything Sector Seven had done, and these were the projects the scientists had discontinued for some reason or other.

He picked out the first item and began.

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Throughout the next hours he was joined by Sam Witwicky. Sam remained well into the night and the next morning until he was too tired to make much sense of anything any more. He kept on creating glitches or little system failures, a clear sign that his mind was exhausted. Sam had a penchant for losing himself in research, something, he had once confessed to Ratchet, he had never thought he could do before. He had never been true geek, though he liked research, and he had never been a real jock, but he wasn’t a couch potato either. Now, not only with his technopathy but also because the subject of Cybertronian technology was so interesting, he forgot time and he had again been awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

Ratchet sent him to bed. There were rooms for the human contingent of allies stationed with the Autobots, namely Major Lennox and his team. Since Sam stayed overnight sometimes, too – whenever he didn’t have to be in school – he had his own bed here, too.

Ratchet returned to his work.

He didn’t see one of the objects Sam had catalogued start to power up.

He didn’t hear its soft hum until it increased enough for his audios to register it as… intrusive.

And then there was a pulse of energy, of something brief but strong, and Ratchet’s systems blanked for a nano second.

The blink of a human eye.

Normalcy.

Ratchet stood at his work bench, confused as to what had happened, and his optics fell on the innocent object.

From outside there was a loud yell that jerked him out of his stupor.

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Ironhide had just rolled into the base when something had pulsed through him, briefly blanking his systems, almost locking everything down. He shuddered, all functions stopping for a brief, brief second, and then he was back.

“Ironhide?”

That was Lennox. His friend had been sitting in the driver’s seat and was now gazing worriedly at him.

“You okay?”

“I’m not sure. What just happened?”

“Your engine stalled, you kinda shuddered, and now you’re back.”

Ironhide rumbled, disturbed. Lennox got out and stood back to let his friend transform, but nothing happened.

“Ironhide?”

“What in the name of Cybertron’s Pits…” he snarled.

His transformation circuits were locked. Nothing gave a single inch.

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Bumblebee had naturally been at the base since Sam was here. They were usually together. It was an easy partnership, never intrusive, and Bumblebee pulled back when Sam needed his privacy.

Their relationship had evolved from car and driver to something special. In the beginning, Bumblebee’s job had been to find the Allspark, and through his research he had discovered the Witwicky family. It had taken him three years and a lot of patience to find the one they needed, Samuel James Witwicky, the descendant of the man who had discovered Megatron and who had the coordinates of the Allspark.

Their first contact had been far from smooth and satisfying. Bumblebee had learned a lot about humans in his years on Earth and while they watched sci-fi and wrote and read books about fantastic alien encounters, they were frightened of something this alien and this new. He couldn’t just contact Sam in his true form. He had to be stealthy.

Getting bought by Sam had been the first step. Then he had tried to show Sam that he was more than a car. Luring him with him to show Sam what he was from a distance as the Autobot had contacted his team had been a first attempt. Of course Sam had been frightened – and then he had gotten arrested. So much for a smooth plan. It had backfired a little.

The second attempt had been even more disastrous. Sam had freaked and he had run into Barricade, nearly gotten hurt, and Bumblebee had had to intervene. But after that his future charge had known he was more than a car. He had been less frightened when they had met eye to optic, and Bumblebee had felt… proud. Sam was brave. He had decided that Bumblebee wasn’t a threat, could have hurt him if he had truly wanted to and hadn’t, and he had trusted the alien robot.

Yes, he had felt proud.

After Mission City, Bumblebee had wanted to stay with Sam. He wanted to watch over the boy because he liked him. Optimus had agreed and the past two years had been special. Now that Sam was also technopathic, their relationship had become even tighter.

It was like a bond, the Camaro mused. He had never felt what Jazz had with Barricade with anyone, and he might never. Resonating sparks were far and few. There were Cybertronians who just didn’t have such luck. That Sam was now able to touch him like that was… incredible.

Bumblebee smiled to himself as he caught up with what he had missed while he was away from the base. He usually got tight data burst now and then when he needed to be updated on matters, but whenever Sam was here, he did it the conventional way.

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When it happened, Bumblebee was on his way to the lab again. Bumblebee had experience with all kinds of uplinks, lately with the addition of Sam’s mind anchoring in his, but this was… weird. There was no other word for it.

For a nano-second there had been nothing but static, like going off-line, and then… nothing changed at all. No information loss, no time shift, nothing.

Ironhide’s yell was unmistakable and Bumblebee hurried into the main hangar where a truly furious Ironhide was apparently trying to transform. Major Lennox stood next to him, looking stunned.

“He can’t transform,” the human said.

The yellow Autobot stared at his friend. “What?” he blurted.

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Barricade had seen no sense in staying at the Autobot base, aside from the fact that Jazz was there and recharging at the moment. The Solstice had been in bad need of it after running an undercover mission for several weeks that had exposed an ex-Sector Seven thief to them. Recharge in that time had been limited to a bare minimum, leaving the silver mechanoid in dire need of a good recharge without disturbances. Barricade had just stared disapprovingly at him until Jazz had relented and walked off to the recharge chamber. Barricade himself had been in a lot better shape and he would recharge on his own time, out here, without having to watch his back. He would have preferred a much more secluded place, but Jazz was here and Barricade felt a kind of obligation to stay with his partner.

The obligation didn’t come from a falsely understood sense of loyalty. Jazz was his spark-bonded partner. They shared the same resonance. There was no question about loyalty. It was just…

Barricade clenched his teeth at the thoughts.

Jazz was part of him. He protected that part just as much as Jazz had his back. In the past two years the former Decepticon had been among the Autobots on Earth and he had developed a kind of loyalty here, too. Barricade had served Megatron, but with the death of his former leader, and with Megatron’s last action – killing Jazz – he had forsaken everything. The Decepticons were nothing but a memory now. He would never go back. He would be at Jazz’s side, come what may, and that Optimus Prime had accepted him had been only a small surprise. The Autobots were hopeless in that regard.

Ironhide was one of the few who truly distrusted him and Barricade found it a healthy distrust. The former Decepticon couldn’t change who and what he was. He had been that mech before he had joined Megatron and he would remain it. Maybe he hadn’t been as ruthless – that had been honed and formed by Megatron. But he had been built as a hunter. He had been programmed with everything he needed to be good at his job. Experience and his life had taught him to expand and refine the programming. He was what he was and no Autobot could change that, not even Jazz – who had never tried.

Now Jazz was in a badly needed recharge and Barricade was keeping half an optic on the base and what was happening, the other half was resting.

He had promised his partner not to get into trouble, which meant evading Ironhide and trying to stay inconspicuous. The weapons specialist was currently on patrol and Barricade had taken the chance to slip into a brief half-doze himself, sitting in the sun outside the base and soaking up the warmth.

When the pulse rattled his systems, he jerked out of his rest mode, startled. All systems went online, scanning for dangers, but there was nothing. Dust, dead plants, insects…

A loud yell came from inside the hangar and his first response was to power up completely. He tried to transform and…

… he was stuck.

Barricade was struck speechless for a nanosecond, then he attempted a transformation again, but with the same results once more.

He couldn’t transform. Everything was in lock-down.

Starting his engine he tore away from his parking spot and drove into the base.

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Ratchet was stumped. His scanners ran over the two car forms and he tried to understand what had happened. All results he got were the same: Barricade and Ironhide were locked in their vehicle alternate modes and whatever he had tried, nothing had changed that fact.

Bumblebee and himself had been in robot mode when the strange pulse had gone through the base and the surrounding area, and Optimus Prime had thankfully already left to meet with the Secretary of Defense, so he had not been affected. Jazz was still in recharge and it looked like the lock-down would keep him there for a while.

Whatever was going on, it affected their abilities to change their form. Everyone was in the mode he had been when the pulse had swept over the base.

Curious.

“Do something!” Ironhide demanded.

“I have to analyze what happened first,” Ratchet answered calmly. “I don’t know what happened, Ironhide.”

“Typical,” Barricade muttered.

Ironhide growled. “This could be some Decepticon plot!”

“Oh right,” was the acid reply. “I lock myself down in this useless form with you and do what?”

Ironhide rumbled deeply. “How should I know how your slagging brain works, Con!”

“If you would employ yours, you’d find that there is nothing I can do in this form,” Barricade answered coldly.

The topkick suddenly surged forward, upsetting Lennox, who was thrown unceremoniously to the ground, and he rammed into Barricade. The Saleen careened over the hangar ground, crashing into the wall.

“Ironhide!” Ratchet bellow and stepped in front of the blunt prow, slamming a hand onto the hood, hard enough to leave a sizable dent. “Stop it!”

Barricade’s engine rumbled deeply, but he stayed. Ratchet was hyper-aware of the Decepticon in his back, but right now he needed Ironhide to keep cool.

“How do you know it wasn’t him?” his friend demanded sharply.

“I don’t, but why would Barricade harm himself?”

“He’s a Deception.”

That got a hollow laugh out of the Decepticon in question. “You’re such an idiot. Such a typical Autobot propaganda.”

Ironhide’s engine roared again, but Ratchet didn’t move and Ironhide didn’t risk running him over.

“Enough, you two! Major Lennox, are you okay?” Ratchet addressed the human.

“Yeah. Just a bruise.” Brown eyes shot the truck a dark look. “I’d kick your ass for that, but I’d only break my toes. What the fuck are you, Ironhide? Three years old? My daughter is more mature than you!”

The weapons specialist rolled back and while he had no facial features, he looked contrite.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Will.”

“How about switching on that big brain of yours?” Lennox muttered and dusted off his pants.

“I need to scan all of you,” Ratchet interrupted. “Including you, Barricade.”

The Saleen shifted on his shocks, not happy.

Ratchet hoped it wasn’t connected to the Sector Seven device, but as bad luck went, it probably was. It had activated for some reason and sent out this pulse. But first things first. Right now tempers were high and they would get higher if it turned out to be something more than a temporary matter.

He started with Bumblebee, running a deep scan over his friend, storing the data, then continued to the others.

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Sam gazed at his friends, speechless.

“You can’t transform?” he repeated.

“No, we slaggin’ can’t,” Ironhide groused. “I’m stuck as some kind of oversized truck and my self-repairs can’t take care of it.”

Barricade was silent, but Sam had the clear impression of the former Decepticon smirking at that.

“I believe this to be the source of all problems,” Ratchet said and held up the device he and Sam had studied just the evening earlier.

“But… it has no function,” Sam protested.

He had looked that thing over and over and it had seemed like some randomly constructed piece of functionless machinery. Even his technopathic mind had been unable to make much sense of it. Now it was supposed to have affected the Cybertronians like that?

“It apparently has,” Barricade stated levelly. “It locked us down.”

“Impossible!”

“It might be shielded from espionage,” the Saleen added.

“How would Sector Seven know about technopathy?” Sam challenged.

“Why do you assume they don’t?”

“But I’m a freak of nature! Not even you guys have heard of something like that, so why Sector Seven?”

“He has a point,” Ironhide grudgingly spoke up. “Sector Seven might not have foreseen technopathy as you have it, but maybe they managed to shield the device in a way that you can’t look at it by chance or while trying to cover something else.”

Ratchet looked thoughtful. “I haven’t found any technical data in the files we received from Sector Seven concerning this particular device. Normally the scientists documented each step and their success or failure.”

“You think the data was erased before the military got it downloaded?” Bumblebee asked.

“Possible, but Ironhide and I went over all data strings and those who had been erased have been tracked down. There is nothing at all in the files.”

Sam looked at the device, thoughtful. “I could look deeper,” he offered.

Bumblebee shifted uneasily. “That’s dangerous,” he said.

“Not if I can anchor myself to you and you pull me back when things get tough.”

Ratchet shook his head. “You don’t know what this thing will do to you, Sam. You didn’t even recognize it, let alone analyze it like you do everything else. Something about it keeps it off your radar and that protection might be harmful to you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you,” Ratchet pointed out calmly.

“You wouldn’t be able to stop me if I wanted to do it,” Sam shot back. “I don’t even need to touch the thing to do this. I can just access it from where I stand and you wouldn’t have a chance to reverse it.”

The medic looked unhappy. “No, no one could, but it’s too dangerous, Sam. You could harm yourself.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

“Like the good little Autobot lover you are,” Barricade muttered.

Bumblebee shot the Mustang a sharp look. “Barricade…”

Sam glared at him, too, but for other reasons. “I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. I want to help you guys and if it means to look into this device, I’ll do it.”

There was a chuckle from Barricade. “Autobot lover with suicidal tendencies.”

Ironhide’s engine revved and he menacingly rolled closer to the smaller vehicle.

“Shut your trap, ‘Con, or I’ll do it for you!”

“How? Run me over?” Barricade taunted. “You’d have to catch me first.”

The engine of the topkick howled again and Lennox quickly stepped in front of the black vehicle, placing a hand on the massive snout.

“Ironhide, no. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“Leashed,” Barricade laughed.

“And you shut up, too,” the Major barked. “Killing ourselves won’t solve this problem.”

The engine of the Saleen hummed quietly and there was a distinct aura of menace still around him. No matter how long he had been affiliated with the Autobots already, he was an outsider. Sam’s eyes were on the police cruiser, feeling a twinge of sadness. Among all of them, and aside from Jazz, he was the only one who knew what was underneath all the bristle and barbs. Like Ironhide, who liked to maintain his gruff exterior, Barricade used his darkness and perceived lethal temper to keep the others from coming closer.

Jazz was bonded to him and knew him like no other, and Sam had touched the electronic mind and seen more than he had ever wanted to. Barricade was aware of it and they had never touched the topic, but Sam felt the former Decepticon’s wariness of his knowledge.

“Ratchet, please,” the young man addressed the medic that was towering over them. “I can do this. Bumblebee will keep me out of trouble.”

The smaller Autobot nodded. “Of course.”

“Neither of you knows what’s inside this thing, Sam,” Ratchet argued again. “It might be more than you can deal with. What if it attacks you both? It could cripple your mind to get lost inside.”

Sam sighed in frustration. “I know the dangers. It’s like driving, Ratchet. You know you can get killed on the road, but you can handle your car and you gotta trust in your abilities.”

“And he has a safety net,” Bumblebee added.

“You can’t stop me,” Sam drove home the last point.

“I’m painfully aware of that.” Ratchet was silent for a second, then nodded. “I will monitor you and at the first sign of life-threatening danger, I want you to pull him out, Bumblebee.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t let anything harm Sam.”

Sam was aware of Barricade watching them – him – closely, but the Saleen didn’t say a thing. For a brief moment he let his senses brush over the presence, surprised to find Barricade not pulling back, then he stared. He had picked up a very clear offer.

::Why?:: he sent.

Sam’s ability to use a kind of internal uplink to communicate with the Autobots stood and fell with his own concentration, as well as the willingness of the mechanoid in question. He had no problem at all with Bumblebee. He had only once tried it with Ironhide and gotten the headache of the century. Ironhide was old and his defenses against such things were top notch. The same was true about Optimus, though he was a lot more willing to train with Sam in that matter. Ratchet and Jazz ranked among medium problematic, depending on whether Sam had his mind focused or not. Barricade… he had only once touched that mind and that had been an attack. He didn’t want to risk that again, didn’t want to risk damaging Barricade. Maybe it was a personal matter, maybe it was a Decepticon thing, but whatever it was, Sam didn’t want to hurt anyone. He usually stayed within the safe confines of Bumblebee’s systems. So this contact was… surprising.

::You are the means to ending this abysmal state I’m in:: was Barricade’s simple answer.

And get Jazz out of stasis. It was the unspoken addition.

::So you’ll protect that tool?::

::Exactly::

::Thanks:: Sam answered quietly.

::Don’t thank me, human.::

Right. Never thank him because Barricade hated to be reminded of the fact that he was doing something… nice. Jazz teased him about it and Sam knew more than anyone, more than Barricade was actually comfortable with. He still didn’t know why Barricade really protected him. He was an ally, he was useful, but the former Decepticon had gone great lengths in insuring he was safe and sound sometimes. Now he actually volunteered to protect him once more.

So Sam just smiled briefly and turned back to the others.

“Ready,” he declared.

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Sam hat never worked with a double security net. Normally he had only Bumblebee, who he knew inside out, but now there was something like a dark shadow hovering behind his friend, the secondary anchor. Only because he knew Barricade had Sam felt well with this. He had already been in contact with the former Decepticon’s mind; he knew where he stood with Barricade. Like he knew where he stood with Bumblebee.

Bumblebee himself had been wary and surprised to find Barricade there, but he hadn’t acted on it.

::It’s okay, Bee:: Sam reassured his friend. ::He won’t hurt me::

::I know. It’s just… even now I need to get used to his… helpfulness::

Sam chuckled. ::Don’t let Barricade hear that. The helpfulness part, that is.::

::Never:: the Camaro laughed.

Sliding along the, for others, invisible line that linked his mind to the device, Sam explored the outer systems. They were nothing remarkable, no more complicated than a human-made computer. There were hints of Cybertronian technology, but only in its most rudimentary form. Sam had touched a lot more complicated systems already, and he knew mechanoid minds, which were the most complex of all.

Going even deeper, he found a few more curious things that tickled his technopathic senses. Nothing bad, though. Just like a… tingle. Sam looked around and wondered why this innocent looking device had locked every mechanoid in the form he had been in at the time. He walked along the programming and poked and prodded.

Nothing happened.

Until he reached for what looked like an uplink.

Sam gave a cry of surprise as his mind was flooded with defense programs, with information, with spy ware, with everything that seemed to be hidden behind the façade of a senseless device. He threw up shields, felt Bumblebee take a hold of him, and he grabbed for his anchor, suddenly frightened.

More programs seemed to wake, like sleepers out of a coma, and they turned to face the intruder. Sam yelled in fear and tried to evade what looked like a vicious attack.

All his training went out the window.

Bumblebee’s grip tightened even more –

-- and was suddenly joined by another, equally strong grasp. Sam felt the cool, logical mind of Barricade briefly bump into his frightened one, jarring him out of his rising panic.

I have trained this, Sam thought desperately. I’ve done this before, right?

No, not really. He had never defended himself against such viciousness, had never counter-attacked what he had just met.

::Focus!:: Barricade’s growl snapped him out of his rising desperation.

Sam exhaled sharply, gathering his thoughts, watching the snapping and hissing attacks around him, fended off by his natural defenses. His mind calmed down and he was thankful for the presence of both his anchor and his back-up. Even if his back-up was rather pissed at the moment.

Sam scanned the new programs and found a certain logic behind them. What their real function was, he had no idea, but they were hidden deep within the hybrid device and they were vicious.

Slowly pulling back, he turned to Bumblebee. ::You okay?:: he asked, using a similar connection to the Autobot as the Cybertronians did amongst themselves.

::Yes. But this felt like the pulse that locked down everything inside us::

::I agree:: Barricade rumbled.

Sam found the other mech studying the programs he could see through Sam’s mind’s eye.

::They look like guardians, reprogrammed to invade any Cybertronian mind touching it, altering the basic programming::

At Bumblebee’s curious look, he laughed darkly.

::Decepticon scientists came up with a lot of vicious little invention to make your lives hell, Autobot. This is like a virus that handicaps or completely disables certain functions inside the enemy.::

::Like transformation:: Sam said slowly.

::Yes::

He removed himself completely and blinked, slightly disoriented for a second – and not really surprised to find himself cradled by Bumblebee, who was sitting on the floor.

“That bad, huh?” he murmured.

Barricade wasn’t even close by, still parked across the room, but Sam was pretty much aware of being watched closely. Whatever he might call his relationship with Barricade, it had morphed from naked fear to acceptance, to reluctant might-be-friendship.

“You collapsed,” Ratchet could be heard, sounding disapproving and worried in one.

Sam felt the scan and winced a little.

“Apologies,” the medic said immediately.

“S okay. So…?”

“Exhaustion and low blood sugar,” Ratchet told him.

“The usual then.”

“It was risky, Sam. I still disapprove.”

Ratchet knelt down in front of him and handed the young man a large chocolate bar.

Sam wondered if he now kept chocolate and other sweets as ‘ repair material’ for Sam in his body.

“Yeah, noted. But now we know a little more.” And he told Ratchet what he had seen and felt.

“Interesting,” the medic said slowly. “So if the scientists of Sector Seven pulled the information out of Megatron somehow, molded it with something human-made through Allspark technology, and created a viral program… we need to devise an anti-virus. I would have to reverse-engineer a human hybrid-program.”

Sam shrugged. He had no idea about those kind of things. Computer programming was not his forte.
Ratchet tapped a finger against his chin in a very human gesture, then turned and walked to his work station. Sam smiled slightly and looked at his friend.

“Normally I’d say we go for a ride, but as things are… how about a walk?”

He needed to stretch his legs, work off the exhaustion, and on the way out he planned to raid his rather large stock of sweets that would ensure his blood sugar level would be back to normal levels soon.

Bumblebee rose. “Of course.”

Sam briefly glanced at Barricade, who didn’t say a word, then they left the lab area.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the Saleen following until he veered off to head for what was probably the recharge units. While he couldn’t physically drive inside, he could get very close, and that’s where he stayed. Sam felt sympathy rise inside him. Jazz was still locked down in recharge stasis and until Ratchet found a way to fight the virus, he would remain there.

That had to be tough. As much as Barricade proclaimed he was independent and needed no one, as much as he had spent the last millennia physically separated from Jazz because of the war, he still needed his partner. Sam didn’t believe for a minute that Barricade wanted to be alone any more.

Briefly opening his senses he caught a last glimpse of the Mustang and found the bond healthy, though dormant. He cut the connection and chewed on his lower lip.

Wish I could help, Sam thought.

But right now all he could do was wait and see what Ratchet came up with.

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Optimus Prime had returned immediately after he had been contacted by Ratchet and briefed as to what the situation was, and he had brought Tom Banachek along.

Banachek had been with Sector Seven’s Advanced Research Division and had been one the head officers. Unlike most Sector Seven commanders and head scientists, he had kept his office, though now working for a different branch. He reported to the Secretary of Defence personally, like Major Lennox, and he served as a liaison of all sorts. With Sector Seven disbanded and all information now in the hands of the Autobots, Banachek was contacted whenever something unforeseen happened.

The lock down was unforeseen, so Optimus had taken the former Sector Seven commander with him. Prime respected the man and they had had lengthy conversations about the past, about Sector Seven, about the experiments, about their motivations, their hopes and dreams and fears. Prime had come a long way in understanding humans throughout those talks. Together with what he had learned from Sam, Mikaela, Lennox, Epps and every other human contact, it formed a new picture of these people.

When the former division head arrived, Ironhide was close to losing his tenuous hold on his temper. Major Lennox kept a close eye on the truck and spent most of his time with Ironhide, alternatively driving around or just sitting with him, doing his own work with a laptop and a lot of patience.

Barricade had set up camp, so to speak, near the recharge units. Sam involuntarily caught intense bursts being sent from the Saleen and without trying to pry, he suspected this was Barricade ‘talking’ to Jazz.

“This is demeaning,” Ironhide could be heard. “Whoever is responsible, I’ll turn him into slag!”

Lennox patted his hood. “Ratch is working on it. Just be patient.”

Which was not Ironhide’s strong side.

Sam had skipped a lot of classes, which he felt a little guilty about but couldn’t help it, and he by now knew the strange little device inside out. Whoever had constructed it, whoever had thought it up, he had no clue what it had been supposed to do. It contained the vicious little spy programs that would disable Cybertronians, but whether it had been a possible weapon or just a fluke, no one could tell. Those on Lennox’s team that had been working for Sector Seven before it had been disbanded had never seen it before either. Most were military anyway and only a few scientists were in direct contact with the Autobots.

Banachek looked calmer than anyone felt, but there were worry lines around his eyes as he looked at the device in question.

“I’ve never seen it before,” he said.

“I feared as much,” Ratchet replied. “It’s not in any of the data files we received from Sector Seven and so far no one has ever seen it before.”

Banachek nodded. “There were some obscure experiments. I know the people involved, but none are still with any government groups now. I’ll have to track them down.”

“That might be helpful,” Optimus told him.

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Sam felt like a world-class idiot. A loser and a moron and whatever else he could think of. Loser was the most fitting, he mused. Months of working with Barricade, training his abilities, actually getting somewhere, and the first time he used them he was smacked in the face and nearly got lost.

Great. Just great.

Loser was so, so fitting.

Sitting in the back of the huge hangar, he wondered what had gone wrong. The virus had turned to attack him and he had lost his nerve. Plain and simple. Instead of bracing himself and using his shields, he had turned tail and run. Without Bumblebee and Barricade he would have lost and maybe even drowned. He could be a vegetable now.

Sam groaned to himself.

The sound of rubber on concrete had him stiffen and he turned, looking into the darkness. His mind reached out and scanned, something he did automatically by now, and found the familiar pulse of Barricade. The black prow nosed out of the darkness and the police cruiser stopped not far away.

“What do you want?” Sam asked angrily, feeling strangely challenged by the other’s presence.

“You have to ask?” came the level reply.

He gritted his teeth. Of course Barricade would rub his nose in it! Of course he would tell him how badly he had failed. Typical.

“I know I failed. I know I was busted the moment that thing attacked me. You don’t have to rub it in, okay?” His temper spiked, as usual when it came to his technopathy and the lack of control he showed. He felt like being back in high school, the kid who had no special talent, who was no jock, who was not even really a geek.

There was only the barely audible hum of Barricade’s engine for a very long time. Sam hunched over, wishing he could just leave. But he couldn’t. His place was with his friends.

“You didn’t fail,” Barricade finally said.

Sam snorted. “Without Bumblebee and you I’d be dead now.”

“Yes,” was the simple answer. “That would be failure then. Failure is death, human. You expect too much of yourself.”

Sam stared at him. “I should be able to do this!” he finally argued. “I can do it!”

“What you can do is invade a mind you already know. You training never went any further because you’re not yet ready. Your mind needs time to evolve into the powers it has.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m a technopath. I can do this. I do it on a regular basis!”

“You don’t fight off enemy programs. Our training was about your control over your powers. I never taught you battle techniques.”

Sam clenched his hands into fists. “Maybe we should start then.”

There was a low chuckle. “Maybe we should.”

He shot the Mustang a narrow-eyed look of suspicion. “You’re the one who told me I’m nothing but a tool.”

“Which is true.”

“So why aren’t you teaching me the stuff that will eventually make me the weapon you claim I am for you. I’m completely useless!”

Barricade rolled almost noiselessly closer. “Because rushing you will only result in failure.”

In death, Sam translated.

“Your abilities need to be carefully honed. As long as you get lost in the simple task of breaking past my barriers, you are not ready for the next step.”

The young man refused to rise to the bait. Of course he got lost. The bond to Jazz was something that side-tracked him regularly. He had never gone any deeper than the surface barriers of Barricade’s mind and he had always been caught, but he had learned a lot more discipline in those months than ever before.

“You didn’t argue when I said I wanted to try this,” he muttered.

“Would it have stopped you?”

Sam sighed. “No.”

“A futile task, then,” Barricade answered matter-of-factly.

He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Sam wanted to be good, but he was failing again and again. Maybe he was setting his goals too high, but… but… why didn’t it work? Why wasn’t he getting better at all of this?

“Pushing yourself will result in more failure,” Barricade rumbled. “As you humans say, it is a learning process. You were not born with those abilities. Your race doesn’t know how to handle this.”

“Neither does yours,” he shot back.

It got him a dark chuckle. “No.”

Sam let his head thump against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “This is like back in high school. I’m useless.”

“That is a subjective opinion.”

“And yours is so much better? You think humans are insects!” Sam snarled. “You would rather erase us from this planet than cooperate or coexist. You killed humans!”

“I can’t deny what happened in my past. I won’t.” Barricade seemed to study him. “Opinions can be changed. Not in general, but in particular cases.”

He gazed at the police cruiser. How the hell should he take that statement? As a compliment?

“Your mutation and your subsequent abilities are nothing you can learn to control and handle within months,” Barricade went on, voice almost emotionless. “Rushing it will only result in pain.”

“I noticed. I just feel so useless.”

There was a kind of huffing noise coming from the former Decepticon. It sounded like a snort; an electronic one.

“You are repeating yourself. It won’t make it better.”

“Not worse. This is as bad as it gets.”

“Is moping a human trait or just yours?” Barricade asked pointedly. “You have either been with your Autobot guardian for too long or you are even more of an Autobot than I thought.”

“I’m human! I’m not like you!”

“Thank Cybertron for that,” was the dry reply.

Sam stopped, then chuckled a little, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Get over it. Go on with my life.”

There was no comment from Barricade.

“I think I should go back,” Sam finally sighed. He got up and looked at the black and white car. “You okay?”

He could almost imagine the red optics narrowing.

“Okay, stupid question. Forget it.”

“I am functional, human. That is all that is important right now.”

Sam shrugged. That was as good as it probably got when it came to Barricade. He pushed away from the wall and walked past the Saleen, heading for the common area. He felt hungry. Maybe the guys from Lennox’s unit had some sandwiches left.

Barricade followed, the engine a reassuring deep rumble now, and he only drove off into a different direction when they had reached the main hangar.

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Banachek had tracked down some of the former Sector Seven scientists, but either they didn’t know anything or they covered for whoever had worked on the device. One woman called it a pet project, something she had seen a former colleague tinker around with, but she couldn’t remember who. It was just a general description of a man.

“Great,” Optimus muttered.

If mechanical life forms could get headaches, he was closest to one.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get more, but I’m on it, Optimus.”

“It looks like whoever it was, he covered up whatever he did. It makes me think he knew what this was… or might be.”

Banachek nodded slowly. “In every organization there are the rogues and those who play outside the lines. I know we had them, but Simmons and I caught a great many. With the evolution of technology, new and more outrageous experiments were taken on. Many were never supervised. The temptation to play around with alien technology was too great for some.”

Optimus nodded. “I understand the temptation. Our kind is not so different. We, too, have scientists without a conscience, without scruples.”

“Now we don’t know who did what and what he created was supposed to do. I’m sorry, Prime.”

The Autobot leader smiled a little. “No apologies needed. We will solve this problem.”

“What if it is permanent?”

“I never give up hope, Mr. Banachek. There is always a solution.”

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Lennox sat comfortably on the broad hood of the GMC truck, his laptop on his lap, scanning through files upon files he had been sent a few hours ago. It was normally a weekly job he did, but since there was little he currently did away from Ironhide, he had taken to downloading the reports on a daily basis. He was looking at a topographical map of Qatar that had been grid-mapped. Each day a tiny piece of that grid was scanned by the most sophisticated sensors ever to be employed by the US.

Alien sensors, too.

Banachek had worked some real magic in getting the equipment there, setting it up and using trusted ex-Sector Seven employees to do what had to be a nerve-wrecking job. Ironhide had had more than just a small part in the fine-.tuning of the sensors and the weapons specialist was very proud of them.

They were looking for Scorponok. The drone had been alive after the massive airstrike and he had hidden somewhere, probably licking his wounds, and without contact to Blackout or anyone else, he would lay low. Being a drone he followed his orders unless told otherwise. With Lennox and his men air-lifted out of Qatar and Scorponok damaged, he must have found a hiding place.

Banachek thought he was still in Qatar. Lennox wasn’t so sure. The drone was fast when he tunneled and he could already be halfway to Iraq or the Emirates. But he followed the grid-map scans and he looked for the same clues a team of men and women in Qatar did. He didn’t envy them their job. He had been in the desert long enough to know it could get to you.

“Anything?” Ironhide rumbled.

“No.”

Ironhide downloaded the same scans and he went over them with different eyes than Will did. They actually made a pretty good team in dividing the evaluation into mechanoid and human view points.

“You really think he’s still there?” Lennox wanted to know.

“It’s possible. If he found a safe place to regenerate his damaged parts. If not, he moves whenever he can, never staying in place because he’s probably almost defenseless.”

“How long?”

“As long as it takes. His orders were to follow you and erase your team because there had to be no witnesses of what Blackout did. He failed, you hurt him, he fled. Right now survival is the only thing he can think about,” Ironhide explained.

“So he’ll move or he has gone deep underground. Maybe too deep for our sensors to find him.”

“Possible.”

Will sighed and leaned against the windscreen, staring at the hangar ceiling. “If we find him, what would you do? Kill him?”

Ironhide was silent and Lennox scrubbed a hand over his face. Like any soldier he followed orders and he had faced many dangerous situations, had fired at the enemy and he had killed a man before. But that man had been pointing a gun at him and it was either him or Lennox. Will had had a split second to make a decision and he had decided to live. But to take a life in cold blood? No.

Not even if it was a Decepticon? The very one who had killed his men and the people of the Qatar village?

He fought back thoughts of revenge. No, that wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“As long as we haven’t found him,” Ironhide finally said, “we can’t decide what to do.”

Will smiled a little. Yeah. No decision today. He closed the laptop and stayed on the hood, gazing at the ceiling. It was a nice enough place to be and he had found that while the mechanoids were made of metal, it wasn’t any metal he had ever touched before. As long as Ironhide let him, he’d stay here. Maybe in an hour or two his friend would grow restless enough that they had to take another drive.

Until then, this was good.

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“I’m not sure this works,” Ratchet finally reported three days later.

Ironhide snorted. “Just get going, Ratchet. Do whatever you need to do and unlock us!”

“We have to be cautious,” the medic began.

“I’m volunteering,” the weapons specialist interrupted. “You ran tests, it’s as good as it gets, and I want to be out of this cursed vehicle mode!”

“I understand, Ironhide, but the risk…”

“Is understood. Do it.

Ratchet sighed and caught Optimus’ optics, who only nodded once.

“Do it,” the Autobot leader said.

“Before I volunteer Barricade,” Ironhide added darkly.

“In your dreams, Autobot,” the mech in question growled.

Optimus smiled briefly, then watched as Ratchet prepared to inject the anti-virus into Ironhide. As the humans would say, ‘fingers crossed’.

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Ironhide waited.

Nothing happened.

He felt the same as before, no change at all, and the lock down was still in effect.

Ratchet’s pinched look said it all. The blue optics were like glued to Ironhide, then went to the read-out monitors.

No change.

“Ironhide?” Lennox probed.

“Nothing,” the weapons specialist muttered. “Damnit!”

Ratchet looked actually quite guilty, then scanned him again, more deeply. He sighed softly. “It’s no good.”

“I can see that, Ratchet,” was the rumbling reply. “I’m still stuck!”

Lennox patted the fender again, as if it helped calm Ironhide down. Maybe it did. The truck shifted a little on his shocks, muttering in Cybertronian.

Ratchet walked back into his work area and Lennox leaned against the black topkick, glancing at his friend.

“You okay?” he wanted to know.

“Yeah. Stuck, but okay.”

“Want to go for a drive?”

“I’ve done nothing but drive around lately!” Ironhide complained.

“Keeps the wheels lubed,” Will joked.

“Very funny, Major.”

He opened the door and climbed in. “Where to?” Will asked, aware that distracting Ironhide for just a few hours would be well worth it. “Movie?”

“Anything that blows something up?”

“I think there’s a new Michael Bay movie out.”

“Sounds good.”

They left the base. Lennox waved at his second in command and Epps just nodded. He would keep an eye on things.

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Sam had retreated to one of the underground storage rooms. It was easier on his technopathic minds since tempers were rising among the affected parties. Ironhide was furious that there was no solution. He no longer voiced that fury, but Sam could sense it. Ratchet was losing himself in his work, barely surfacing for more than a moment to try something or other, ask someone a question, then he disappeared again. Bumblebee had opted to help him, though he was visibly torn between staying with his charge, who was exhibiting signs of stress, and help his people. In the end Sam had told him to go. The others needed his help.

So now here he was, in the semi-darkness of Storage One, sitting on a low crate. He had discovered that being on his own, with a layer or two of solid ground and concrete between him and some seriously upset mechanoids helped his brain recover his shields.

His eyes were on the transparent container that held the sole surviving shard of the Allspark. Optimus Prime had pulled it out of Megatron’s chest. Sam had come to look at it often before. It was something that fascinated him, that drew his technopathic abilities like a moth to the flame.

At first it had been scary. Now he used the Allspark shard like a mediation focus device, losing himself in it. Like today.

Letting his mind slip-slide along the link it created to a mechanical or electronic object, he forgot the world around him. Anywhere else he would need the protection of Bumblebee, but inside the base, in this room, there was no danger.

The Allspark. Life-giving source of all of Cybertron. Ancient. Older than any life the Cybertronians had ever met. Older than their planet, which it had created. Older than their solar system.

Ancient… so very ancient.

Each molecule of the cube was filled with an incredible energy. It was pure and raw and still controlled by the total of what made up the Allspark.

Grooves and whorls and ridges and cracks adorned the outer surface. Resistant to heat and cold, to friction and explosive charge. Collisions with asteroids, meteorites and even a whole planet couldn’t destroy it.

Indestructible…

But still it had perished at his hands.

Sam moved through the molecular structure and it felt like walking through a beautiful landscape. It felt like swimming and flying in one. He could feel the warmth of life, the perfection of power, everything that the Allspark was. Everything…

So much.

Overwhelming.

He focused on part of it, pulling himself together to stop his mind from spreading too thin.

Around him, the Allspark pulsed.

So beautiful.

Sam smiled and reached out to touch one of the molecules around him. It was like a live wire, but it didn’t shock him or do him harm. It didn’t hurt. He was just… everywhere.

He saw the universe and he touched life. Such incredible power.

Limitless.

Not dead.

He gasped a little and came closer.

The Allspark was still there. Inside this shard. Dormant, maybe. Waiting. Gathering power and strength. Waiting to be reborn.

He shivered.

But it would take time. Too much of it had been stripped away. It was like a tiny seed that would grow again in time.

Sam looked around, trying to find more, delving deeper into this well of life.

What would trigger the growth? When? How? What could he do to help? Did the Allspark need power? And if it returned, would the sparks it had carried return as well? Were they here somewhere? Condensed versions of before?

There was a distraction from outside and Sam felt himself drawn to something else. It was powerful all on its own. It was wonderful and it was old, and the beauty was ethereal.

Sam turned to look at the spark. Yes, it was a spark. He knew it. It was familiar.

It was…

Knowledge hit him. Like a wave. Unbidden.

Prime's spark was one of the most powerful energy sources after the Allspark. It was incredible. It was…

Sam fell forward, felt it pull him close, felt it envelop him. He soared through the mind of the Autobot leader.

Something caught him in gentle, but firm hands. He twisted a little, not feeling threatened, but it was uncomfortable.

::Sam:: Prime’s voice whispered.

::Optimus?::

He felt the smile and thought he could see Prime’s presence.

::Stop::

It wasn’t really an order, just a suggestion.

::I’m… oh… sorry…::

He knew he flushed. He had entered Prime’s mind, pulled to it because the spark was so close to what the Allspark felt like.

::Your spark…:: he murmured. ::It’s incredible::

And then he was suddenly outside. Sam blinked into the twilight, his mind trying to switch back from seeing the inside of the Allspark to reality.

He was cupped in a large hand, held gently, and it was like the hold inside Prime’s mind. Blue optics glowed in the semi-darkness, watching him, studying him, and he felt a non-invasive scan. Pulling his shields closer, he met the concerned gaze.

“Sorry,” Sam said meekly.

“You did no harm.”

“I… kinda got lost.”

“I noticed.”

Sam frowned. “How?”

Optimus smiled. “I was looking for you and I know you like to come here. It was a natural choice to look for you. Are you okay?”

He nodded, warmed by the concern he heard and felt. Sam felt no fear around the mechanoids, no apprehension. Even sitting several feet above the ground on Prime’s hand, he knew he was safe. His eyes fell on the massive chest plate, hyper-aware of the spark behind it.

Protected by an incredibly strong casing that couldn’t be breached by conventional weapons. It was transparent, enabling a medic to look at the spark but not touch the dangerous but mind-numbingly beautiful creation of the Allspark.

If breached, the chamber would leak radiation strong enough to kill life.

Sam blinked again, aware of Prime’s attention on him.

“Optimus? May I ask you a question?”

The Autobot leader set him carefully down and went down on one knee. “Yes?”

“When you told me to push the Allspark into your chest… it would have destroyed you, your spark, releasing its radiation… it would have… could have destroyed my world.”

There was a moment of silence as Prime’s mind whirred and clicked, though there was no sound to be heard. Sam just felt the thought processes without hearing them. His shields still needed time to recover.

“The Allspark’s energy would have annihilated everything I am and ever was, Sam,” Optimus finally answered. “As it annihilated Megatron’s spark. The fall out would have simply disappeared. I would never endanger life like that.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Okay. It was just a thought.”

“I understand. And it was a legit thought. You can feel what we are and you just touched me as deeply as you touch Bumblebee.”

Sam blushed. It sounded… intimate. Okay, it was intimate, but not like a human would define it. It wasn’t sex. It was… a connection.

His understanding of what Barricade had once told him grew. Alien life, alien definitions, alien thought structures… and his human mind tried to grasp it. He was getting better at it.

Sam looked at the shard again. Optimus’ optics followed his eyes and he looked suddenly serious, almost mournful.

“It’s still there,” Sam heard himself say. “I can feel it grow stronger. It’s like… like when you have something really, really small and it needs time to grow again.”

The Autobot gave him a surprised look. “You can see it?”

“I can touch it. I like to touch it.” Sam shrugged, feeling embarrassed at the confession. “It’s… nice. It’s like I know it and it knows me.”

And it sounded like he had sex with it, a mortified part told him.

His blush deepened.

“Very few, almost no one, of our kind felt the Allspark like you describe it. You are special, Sam Witwicky.”

“Yeah. Mutated genes,” the young man replied.

“Even before the Allspark energy changed you, it reacted to you,” Optimus reminded him.

“Yeah. Strange, huh?”

“We know nothing about humans, Sam. And your own kind hasn’t discovered all there is about your own planet, let alone your bodies. Genetics is complex, even for robotic life forms. Ratchet is studying the subject and he is fascinated.”

“I know.” Sam grinned a little. He sometimes became a test subject.

“Do you want to stay a little longer?” Optimus asked.

Upstairs there was only the normal chaos and he would have to leave the base to get complete peace and quiet. Sam was no help when it came to anti-virus programs. He wasn’t a computer programmer and he didn’t understand the subject matter all too well. Actually, not at all.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

Optimus smiled. “I don’t. I’ll have Bumblebee contact you when Ratchet is ready to try again.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Because until then it would be nice to just… relax.

Sam closed his eyes and let himself relax again. He resisted the temptation to touch the Allspark technopathically, but it was reassuring to feel its life.

He hadn’t destroyed it completely. It was still there. And one day it would recover.

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Sam had gotten good at recognizing the individual mechanoids by their electronic emissions, as well as their sparks. Sparks were difficult because they weren’t electronic or mechanical devices, but their pulses were unique. It was easier to pick up general electronic noise, though. One in particular was so easy for him to recognize, it was as if he had always known him.

Sam didn’t know how long he had sat in Storage One and let his mind drift, let his shields recover, but when Bumblebee stepped carefully inside, he knew it must have been a while.

“May I?” his friend asked.

He stretched, smiling. “Hey. Yeah, sure, come in.”

Bumblebee got down on one knee and held out a hand. There was a super-size pack of M&Ms in his palm.

Sam laughed out loud. “Gee, thanks. Was it that obvious?”

“No. You were very quiet and Optimus told me you were down here. I figured you’d need something sweet after everything.”

“Everything?”

“Ironhide’s temper, Barricade’s tension, Ratchet’s hyperactivity. I think all tempers are high and we probably flood you.”

Sam opened the pack and ate some M&Ms. He shrugged. “It’s not bad. Like a background noise that rises and falls, but the more you guys are active, the more I’m pulled to you. I nearly logged onto Ironhide and I’m not sure what I would have done. Barricade’s okay. He’s more controlled. But I didn’t want to risk a thing.”

Bumblebee sat down on the ground and the blue optics glowed softly. He was such a reassuring sight, Sam almost automatically anchored himself in his best friend. It was something they had discovered worked when the headaches threatened after too much stress or when Sam had slipped in his control again. Bumblebee had never said no and he had not shown any ill effects so far.

“You don’t hurt me, Sam,” the Camaro said as if he had heard the question.

Sam just smiled a little. He tried not to. Sometimes he had glitches that in turn resulted in glitches in Bumblebee.

::I wouldn’t be that close if it interfered with my functions or inhibited me:: the Autobot told him, using the up-link.

That had freaked Sam at first. This connection that allowed them to talk like Sam was a mechanoid as well. Now it was… normal. No one else used it, though Optimus had responded to Sam’s mode of communication, too. Sometimes Sam didn’t know whether he was talking out loud or not.

::Stop worrying. You are doing just fine::

He leaned into the presence and felt a physical touch as Bumblebee ran a calming finger over his back.

“We should go upstairs,” Sam suddenly decided. “I think I’m done brooding.”

Bumblebee chuckled and got up. They walked side by side, back to the busy world above, and with each step Sam felt the presence of the Allspark diminish. It wasn’t a bad feeling. He could come here whenever he wanted.

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Ironhide was a huge, four-wheeled lump of silent metal. Lennox sat on the hood, a place he liked, and was looking at the rather unremarkable landscape around them. It was warm, but not too hot, and the sun was bright. He had hidden his eyes behind glasses, was in shirt-sleeves and jeans, and looked nothing like the Army Major he was. Right now he was off duty and with a friend. A really good friend.

“You don’t have to baby-sit me,” Ironhide rumbled after a while.

“I’m not. For one, you’re not a baby, Ironhide. Two, while I sit – on you – I’m not sitting you.”

It got him an amused chuckle. “Funny guy.”

“One of the funniest. Ask Epps.”

“I rather wouldn’t.”

Will smiled and patted the black hood. “How ya doin’?” he asked.

“How do you think I’m doing?” Ironhide growled, anger worming its way into his gruff voice. “I’m stuck in a thrice-damned vehicle mode that leaves me defenseless! I’m a glorified computer on wheels!”

Lennox continued to caress the hood. “It’s temporary.”

“How do you know? Are you what your people call a psychic?” came the acid remark.

“No, but I trust Ratchet. So should you. You’ve known him longer than I have, too.”

“I trust him.”

“So?”

Ironhide was silent. Lennox waited.

“I’m not good at this,” the truck finally muttered.

“I noticed. So how about we drive around for a bit. You let me take the wheel and I’ll continue the driving and drifting lessons.” He smiled.

Will had insisted he had to learn how to handle Ironhide should it be necessary that he took control of the vehicle. Ironhide hadn’t seen a situation where that might be necessary, but he had finally relented. Bumblebee let Sam drive, like Jazz let Epps take him for a spin once in a while. It was fun and it showed them the capabilities of their human allies.

Ironhide harrumphed. “”What else is there to do?” he sighed.

“Aside from brooding? Nothing much.”

“I don’t brood.”

“Much.”

“Shut up, Lennox.”

Will laughed and slid off the hood as the engine came to life. He climbed into the driver’s seat and when Ironhide showed no signs of driving off by himself, he put in a gear and carefully pushed down the accelerator.

They were going almost top speed just a few seconds later, racing across the deserted landscape, chasing tumbleweed and dust.

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Sam had learned a lot about Cybertronians and their home planet in the time he had stayed and studied at the Autobot base. Ratchet had been only too happy to teach the young human, and the others had answered his questions when he had asked politely. Sometimes the answers were strange when a human mind thought about it, but Sam had learned to think ‘alien’. Not everything a mechanoid did could be translated into a human equivalent.

Like recharge, for example. It wasn’t really sleep. The mechs didn’t need to sleep. It was like a powered down version of the active status. They were highly evolved, mechanical life forms and while they could go into battle and use up a lot of energy, they didn’t just shut down for recharge. They powered down redundant systems and let the higher ones quiet down.

“Think of it like dozing for you,” Bumblebee had tried to explain it. “You see, I can recharge with solar energy. I don’t need much of your fossil fuel. But I need time to transform the solar energy into energy I can use. It’s recharge.”

“So why do you have recharge units?” Sam had asked, perplexed.

“Because when there’s no battle and you have the time on your hand, you give yourself a complete time-out. You shut down everything aside from the core unit, which in turn gives your main processor the necessary time to let sub systems run, check the higher ones, etc. It’s not sleep. We don’t dream and we don’t need to process anything in recharge. It’s a matter of having the luxury to go into a full system check.”

“That means recharge isn’t exactly always the same.”

Bumblebee nodded. “Exactly. I recharge when I’m waiting for you in the parking lot. I clean out caches, I run checks, I update my systems, things like that. I can be in battle mode in a second.”

Sam had thought it over and over, trying to find a human concept for it and had failed. There was nothing comparable. Humans could go without sleep, but not without suffering greatly. Humans could doze, but it wasn’t healthy never to enter the deep sleep phases. It was just alien.

How long could a mechanoid go without recharge? Days, weeks, months? There was no clear answer for it, Ratchet had explained to him a few days later, because a lot of factors played into it, mainly how much energon the mechanoid in question was using up. They were able to convert all kind of matter into fuel, some better some worse for intake, and some were constructed to live off whatever was available. Usually the drones.

Energon as such was simply the distilled version of any kind of fuel source. It was refined, it was packed with what the mechanoid needed in one neat serving. Everything else was like a diluted version.

For the five Cybertronians currently hit by the lock down energon conversion rate was different.
Ratchet was working without much of a rest and only came up for a break when he had something or other to test. Otherwise he was deeply involved in his calculations and anti-virus development. Like all, he couldn’t power down a single system even for a moment, so after a while it showed. What came naturally, even throughout the day, to shut down one routine and let another take over, was no longer possible. It was like running on a high non-stop. It used up energy.

Ironhide had expended a lot of his energy supply in the first few days. He had been and still was frustrated, and it showed in what Lennox had called nervous energy. Since he was in vehicle mode, it was easy to refuel at a gas station, though the fuel wasn’t as high grade as energon. It was sufficient to keep him functioning, but without the ability to regulate his systems, he needed a lot. Lennox’s men had already driven several fuel supplies into the base, but the amounts necessary were by now immense.

Will was a constant with the truck now. He didn’t leave Ironhide out of his sight, even slept inside the cab. His men had taken to hanging around, distracting the mechanoid, keeping him busy as his inability to power down was really wearing him down – without ever doing so completely.

“He’s like a junkie on a constant high,” Epps had remarked one morning when Lennox had inhaled his coffee.

“Yeah, and it’s not getting better.”

Will was worried. A lot. Ironhide and the others were wearing themselves out without having any control over it.

Barricade fared no better. He had relied on Earth fuels ever since the battle of Mission City, hiding and keeping a low profile, and Ratchet had had to clean out his systems and repair damage already. Now he mostly sat almost docile near the recharge chambers, his systems as overtaxed as the other’s.

Bumblebee’s solar energy converters helped him more than the others and now and then he found himself sharing ‘sun space’ with Barricade, though only he was recharging his fuel tanks. Barricade was doing nothing at all. Sam joined his friend, shooting Barricade repeated looks, his frown getting deeper and deeper. Bumblebee studied the former Decepticon and found tremors racing across the Mustang.

“You need to expell energy,” Sam finally said into the silence.

It got him no reply.

“Your systems can’t take the constant high, Barricade. You need to get rid of energy before you blow something.”

“What do you care?” came the snarled reply.

Bumblebee heard the strain the other was under. Himself he had used up energy helping out around the base, or letting Sam prod his unwilling systems into brief periods of shut-down. The problem was that whatever Sam did was undone within an hour. The lock down made sure of it. Neither mechanoids’ systems ever managed to go into the powered down state that was called recharge.

Ironhide outright refused to be ‘touched’ by the technopath.

“You either go for a run or…” Sam stopped and Bumblebee knew what he had been about to offer.

::Sam…::

::He needs help. Ironhide has Will and Ratchet exerts himself with research, as well as some prodding from Prime. And you and I trust each other. I can help you. I want to help him, too. Bee, he did so much for me!::

::It’s risky.::

Sam turned back to the Mustang. “I could help you relieve your systems at least for a while, Barricade. If you let me.”

The Saleen was silent, then he rumbled softly. “I manage.”

“You’re stubborn!” Sam exploded. “I can help and you know it! It’s not like I’m out to kill you or something! You’re our ally! Why is it you always have to be such a hard head?”

It got him a rough chuckle. “I know you can help, but your help is dangerous.”

“I won’t hurt you!”

“Sam is right, Barricade,” Bumblebee entered the conversation. “We don’t know how much longer it will be until Ratchet finds a way to help us. You’ll burn out if you don’t get rid of the pent-up energy. Your main systems need to exhaust themselves. You can’t shut them down, but you can reach a state where it’s almost bearable.”

“Why would you care?”

“Because Jazz would kill us if you burned out your processors because you were a moron,” Sam stated coldly.

For a moment he felt a flutter of fear, then the low chuckle broke the tension. “You are growing quite some backbone, human.”

“And I have a mean left hook,” Sam added, then took a step further. ::Trust me not to hurt you, Barricade::

::What can you do that a race across the desert can’t?:: Barricade replied, using the uplink like it was the most natural in the world.

By now it maybe was. Their training sessions had paved a way for this.

::You won’t have to leave Jazz:: he answered coolly.

A year ago he wouldn’t have said those words. Two years ago he wouldn’t really have cared that much about Barricade. But now he knew this mechanoid and he knew what lay behind the shields. Not all was just cover. Barricade truly was dangerous. He would never make the mistake to think of their relationship anything but a respectful alliance.

Sam felt the amusement at his words. ::You learned::

Thank god he didn’t say ‘grasshopper’, Sam thought, or I’d freak now.

Barricade picking up American TV was so… so… alien, it didn’t really sit with him at all.

::Let me?:: he wanted to know instead.

“Sam?” Bumblebee asked, sounding worried.

“It’s okay, Bee. Barricade?” Sam asked out loud once more.

“I’ll allow you access,” was finally the reply, though Barricade sounded like he was chewing glass.

Sam nodded. “Thank you,” he only said.

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It was when Optimus walked into the lab to talk to Ratchet and found him staring sightlessly at the desk top that he sighed and shook his head. Everyone was under a lot of pressure right now, almost literally, and each mechanoid was dealing with it differently. Their human allies were helping in various ways, each to his best knowledge and abilities. With Sam, it meant helping to bleed off the high energy concentrations in the main systems, though not everyone wanted help like that. Bumblebee had no trust issues and for some reason, Sam had managed to get Barricade to let him help, too. Ironhide was racing off the excess with Lennox’s unit and Ratchet…

Optimus shook his head.

“Ratchet,” he said quietly.

The medic didn’t react at first, but when Optimus repeated his name, he turned, surprised. His optics were burning brightly showing his state. His systems were probably close to melting.

“Prime? I didn’t hear you come in…”

“When was the last time you took a break?” the Autobot leader asked.

That got him a frown.

“When did you last bleed off what can’t be expelled?”

“Optimus… I can’t! I’m so close!”

He sounded like the human drug addicts Sam had told Optimus about. Ratchet needed to take a break, maybe have Sam help him, or just run a battle simulation with either Bumblebee or Optimus himself, though Bumblebee would benefit from something like this himself.

“Ratchet, don’t have me make it an order. Please?”

“Optimus… if I take a break now…”

“You’ll see everything with fresh eyes,” Prime told him. “Your energy high is preventing your circuits from running smoothly. You know better than anyone what this will do to you in the long run – and you’ve been running for quite a long time. You need this. Let Bumblebee help. Or Sam.”

The medic looked indecisive, then finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

Optimus stayed until his friend actually shut down the screen and rose, optics still too bright, and he contacted Bumblebee. It was time to get them both to exhaust their systems.

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Will Lennox looked like someone who had either spent a long time in the desert or hadn’t washed himself for weeks. Actually, it wasn’t either of the two. Covered in dust, clothes saturated with dirt, sweaty and grime-streaked, he still felt exhilarated and like he could still take on the world.

His team looked no better. Epps was dusting off his pants, which resulted in clouds of dirt that settled down on him again, and the others were all a mix between dirty, grimy and beyond a washer’s capabilities to clean their clothes ever again. Still, everyone looked elated and pleased, with some signs of tiredness.

The training course for the unit was outside the Autobot base, a few miles into the desert and shielded from prying eyes in several ways. Aerial cover was given by several nifty cloaking devices that Ironhide had installed throughout the first few days of the team living at the base. Whoever flew across the desert would not only see nothing, he would also get a pair of F-22s from Nellis on his tail, ordering him to land. Followed by an encounter of the law. This area was claimed as military and was off limits.

He ran his men through obstacle courses once a week, gave them different tasks, and he was pleased to see that even though they came from different areas, units and backgrounds, they had found together as a team. Even those of Sector Seven that had joined the ranks were no longer viewed as outsiders. His men had quickly accepted them and now there was no difference any more. They were all one unit, and this one unit had just given Ironhide and Bumblebee hell.

Lennox grinned.

It was a training exercise as good as any to let his men work off some steam and simultaneously help their friends get rid of the energy high their systems were experiencing, without actually taking in too much energon. Will understood the electronics and physics behind the whole problem and if it helped to get them back to a normal level, he was all for it.

Ironhide’s engine rumbled softly, almost a purr, and Lennox thought he could feel the exhaustion coming off the large truck. He was pleasantly docile, though that wouldn’t last long. His systems would go into that dangerous high again and Lennox hoped Ratchet would find something soon. Without the ability to power down, the mechanoids would sooner or later burn out.

“Okay, guys, wrap it up and let’s go home!” he yelled at his men, who were having a good time.

Bumblebee walked over, optics reflecting the same calmed down status as Ironhide. “Thank you for the exercise, Will,” he said.

“You’re welcome. It’s better than sitting around the base.”

Ironhide chuckled. “Now add a few Deceptiscum…”

“… and you’d be slagged,” Lennox finished dryly.

“Would not!” the weapons specialist argued.

“You would. Even Frenzy could kick your tailgate. Now keep the arguments down and get going. I need a shower,” Lennox ordered.

He smiled as Ironhide rumbled, but didn’t continue the argument. The truck opened a door and he hopped in. Bumblebee would walk back. Sam hadn’t come along, mostly because he feared he would lose himself with all the action. He was still at the base.

Will thought the kid had a too low opinion of himself. He had watched Sam and he knew how hard he trained his technopathy. He was getting better and better, and maybe this would have been a good exercise for him, too. He would talk to him, drag him along the next time.

Ironhide hit a pot hole and jolted the Major out of his thoughts. He glared at the dashboard, but it had no effect.

“Feeling okay?” Will asked.

“Restless,” was the surprisingly honest answer.

“We’ll get through this,” Lennox only said.

Ironhide was silent for a moment. “Thank you for your help, Will. I appreciate it.”

And he didn’t even sound as if something was about to break inside him at having to thank the human for something Ironhide shouldn’t really need assistance with.

“Hey, that’s what friends do. We help you guys. It’s what we are here for.”

“And we appreciate it.”

The rest of the drive was spent in silence and Ironhide settled in the main hangar as Will and his men walked off to take their showers. Lennox gave the dusty hood a friendly pat and smiled. He knew that for next few hours, Ironhide would feel the effects, something similar to exhaustion, and he would be okay. After that they might have to think of something new to keep the high down.

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Sam walked into the medical area and found Ratchet running a simulation of his latest anti-virus variation.

“Hey,” he greeted the Autobot. “Any luck?”

“Yes and no. It seems to be working better than the first program. I need to make a few more adjustments, though.”

“The others are doing fine,” Sam told Ratchet, watching the medic work, watching the display of computer programming on the screen. It looked fascinating, but it wasn’t his forte. “Bumblebee and Ironhide played some rounds with Will’s unit. Barricade’s… well, he’s Barricade.”

Ratchet smiled briefly, then entered a few more commands, changing whatever it was he was changing. Sam let his mind reach out to the medic’s and found Ratchet’s circuits already back on a dangerous high once more. He frowned.

“I know, Sam,” the Autobot said without turning around.

The young man flushed at being caught. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate it, but I can’t stop now.”

“Which is why this is called a high and you’re talking like an addict.”

Blue optics regarded him with a bright glow inside them. “I’m close. Very close. It might be just a few more hours.”

“Then at least let me bleed some off,” Sam argued.

Ratchet looked torn, then gave an almost human sigh and nodded. Sam reached out again, familiar with Ratchet’s mind already, and he scanned over the outer systems, then started to manipulate them as he had Barricade’s, though with Ratchet it was slightly more difficult. He had never been deep inside, had never touched him like that, and when he was finally done, Sam felt slightly disoriented.

A large hand kept him from falling on his butt as his knees refused to lock and he gave the medic a grateful smile.

“Don’t overdo it,” Ratchet said quietly. “And thank you.” The bright glow was gone from his optics. “I contacted Bumblebee. He’ll be here to take you somewhere to rest. And eat.”

True to the words, Sam’s guardian appeared no minute later and only because Sam wanted some of his dignity intact didn’t Bumblebee carry him. He sank down on the couch in the common area, ignoring looks from the two Marines watching a game on the big screen TV in the corner, and ate a bunch of Mars bars.

“Overdone it again?”

Sam looked up and rolled his eyes at Lennox, who plopped down in the comfortable armchair next to Sam’s couch.

“I gave Ratchet a little help.”

“You keep doing that with everyone and you end up a vegetable, kid.”

“I’m fine.”

“Ironhide keeps saying the same when I ask him how he is. I believe him as much as I do you.”

Sam frowned. “It was nothing serious.”

“Yeah, but if you try to help everyone, you might go into an overload yourself,” Lennox pointed out. “Stop looking at me like that,” he added at Sam’s narrow-eyed look. “I read the files on you. I know what you can do. It’s my job to know. I’m the guy in charge of the human allies working at the base. That includes you. And since you developed some super-power, I needed to know exactly what you could do and couldn’t.”

“Ratchet?” Sam only sighed.

“And Ironhide. He agrees with me.” Lennox grabbed another chocolate bar and tossed it at Sam, who caught it. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s all because we like you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sam’s eyes drifted to the game. He felt rather okay. The momentary weakness was gone, but the need to help had remained. He knew he couldn’t fix everything, but he could try. As long as any of the mechanoids needed his help, he would give it.

::Bumblebee?:: he reached out for his friend.

::I’m good, Sam. Get some rest, enjoy the game::

He smiled, then rolled his eyes as he caught Lennox’s knowing look. He threw the wrapper at the Major and the older man grinned.

“Samaritan syndrome,” he only commented. He got up. “Hungry for some hot dogs?”

“Sure. You buying?” Sam teased.

“Even better. I’m personally getting them out of the kitchen.” Lennox winked. “Stepanek’s cooking today and the only thing he knows how to make are hamburgers and hot dogs. Today’s dog day.”

With that he disappeared in the kitchen area. Sam sank deeper into the comfortable couch and let the game lull him in a little. He knew he might be getting more action himself soon, so catching some quiet time was really a very good idea.

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It had been Banachek’s idea to contact two people who might be able to help Ratchet with the anti-virus. One was Glen Whitman, who had been put under a government contract to employ his hacker abilities for the US.

The other was former NSA analyst Maggie Madsen. SecDef Keller himself had made it possible for her to belong to the very exclusive team that worked under him and had replaced Sector Seven. She and Whitman handled Cybertronian codes like they were nothing but cereal box quizzes. Banachek had been impressed by Maggie and he had learned to ignore Glen’s more childish moments. Each worked with a team, mostly together, even though Maggie had never been a good team player. At least not when she wasn’t in charge.

They had cracked some interesting Sector Seven encryptions from scientists who had tried to keep their pet projects to themselves.

“I’ve never seen something like this before,” Maggie now said, her beautiful face marred by a frown. “The lock down device is the most complicated of experiments we’ve run across and the coding is… strange. Glen’s still wading through some of it, but it’s really a rather bad mix of everything, and we’re surprised it works.”

She and Glen weren’t at the Autobot base in person. An image on the screen was all they had.

“Everyone is,” Banachek murmured, not happy.

“We sent Ratchet some ideas. Maybe he can work with them.”

“I appreciate your help, Maggie,” Optimus said, the deep voice filled with those emotions.

She smiled brightly at him. “We do what we can, Optimus.”

“Thank you.”

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Two days after the first attempt of unlocking their systems, Ratchet sat in front of his work station, optics on the read-out on the screen. He had read over the code a million times and he knew it had to be the correct one, but he had been sure before. And it had been wrong.

Maggie had kept in contact with him almost 24/7 and Glen had sent over several revised versions of his anti-virus attempts. Ratchet had incorporated a lot of their ideas and he had been glad that they were his so-called sounding boards.

Steps announced the arrival of one of his friends and he turned, meeting the quizzical expression of Bumblebee.

“Sam fell asleep,” the medic answered the unspoken question.

The human had chosen the lab as his retreat – for whatever reason – and had buried his nose in his school books. Ratchet had let him be. When Sam had fallen asleep he had called Major Lennox and the man had gotten the boy to bed.

“I know,” the Camaro answered.

Ratchet felt tired and on a high in one. It was the curse of the lock down and maybe he had the cure. Just maybe.

“Is that the new code?” Bumblebee asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you tried it?”

Ratchet gave an almost human sigh. “No. I’m not sure it will work.”

“You can’t be sure until you try it, Ratchet.”

“I know.”

Bumblebee studied the code as if he knew exactly what every line meant, what ever digit stood for.

“Try it,” he finally said quietly.

And fail again? Ratchet thought darkly. How much did they have until the first fatal error occurred? What if one of his friends burned out a vital circuit?

“Ratchet,” Bumblebee prodded carefully. “Try it. On me, if you want.”

There was no way the medic could run simulations since no one knew exactly how the device worked. He couldn’t just take it apart and study it. For one, it was too dangerous. He also couldn’t have spared the time. This was a live experiment. He could only try it out on his friends.

“Ratchet!”

He snapped out of his thoughts and gave Bumblebee an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“I’m volunteering,” the smaller Autobot repeated. “Just give me the anti-virus program and we’ll see what happens.”

It might be the only way. Ratchet wasn’t happy about his choices, but he nodded, making one.
Bumblebee gave him an encouraging look, then sat down on the examination table. He was ready.

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Barricade stretched and flexed his claws. Muscle cables uncoiled and creaking and cracking noises could be heard. It felt good to be out of vehicle mode and his joints thanked him. Next to him, Ironhide completed his first full transformation from bipedal to car to bipedal again.
Sam looked at the former Decepticon, a question in his eyes. It had become rather easy to read the human and Barricade felt slightly disturbed by it. The ability to uplink to the technopathic mind had been disturbing, too. But that had come with their training sessions and he had written it off as just another alien thing he had to accept about this world and about this particular human.

Without another word, Barricade left the medical area and walked into the recharge chamber. He heard foot steps, aware that Ratchet had followed him. The medic was carrying the anti-virus disk.

“Well, to use a human saying: keep your fingers crossed.”

Red optics narrowed and Barricade shot the Autobot a sharp look. “What are you saying, Autobot?” he demanded.

“All of us were active when the lock down hit us. Jazz was and still is in stasis. It might have had different effects on him.”

A soft hiss escaped the Decepticon. He clenched his hands into fists. His systems seemed to fizz for a moment and he was close to hitting something just to take the edge off.

“Barricade,” Ratchet said softly. “Even if this anti-virus won’t work for Jazz, I will find a way.”

For a moment the black mech looked startled, then his face shuttered and he turned his optics on Jazz. Barricade still felt Jazz’s connection to him, maybe more acutely than ever. Normally the connection between their resonating sparks wasn’t on his conscious mind. It was just there. He couldn’t follow Jazz’s trail because of the sensation of the other spark. In the past days, though, completely alone with himself, he had found that the connection was a lot more complicated and deeper than he had ever thought in all the millennia.

Maybe it was his willingness to let Jazz so close after their forced time apart. Maybe it was just the evolution of a spark bond. Who knew?

All Barricade wanted was to get his companion out of the blasted stasis lock. Everything else… it didn’t really matter right now.

Ratchet inserted the disc into the recharge chamber, then began to monitor Jazz. Barricade remained where he was, watching.

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Banachek had been relieved, and that was a mild word for what he really felt, when he had heard about Ratchet’s success. He had come a little closer in finding the scientist whose pet project had caused so much grief. Still, the suspected perp was in the wind. He had identified two more projects of the same person and had immediately ordered them to be destroyed without prior testing or even scans.

“We’re most likely looking for Dr. Martin Scheffler,” he told Optimus Prime as they sat in the Autobot leader’s office. “He and Dr. Siobhan Lanser are the only two scientists we haven’t tracked down so far, but by now everyone is looking for them. Credit card trails are being followed and we have an approximate search area for Dr. Lansing. She seems to have gone to Mexico. Dr. Scheffler might have taken an overseas flight and has landed in China. We can’t be sure of that because his name is none of the passenger manifests, though one of my teams picked up passenger data that indicates its him. We’re still going over security footage.”

“If you need help,” Optimus said, “we offer it.”

“Thank you, but this was our fault. I was head of that goddamned project, Prime! I know I can’t see and hear and read everything, but one of my scientists actually created unsanctioned devices.”

“I understand your emotions, Tom, but this is our problem together. We will help you if you let us.”

Banachek was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll give you what we have.”

“And we’ll let you know what we might find.”

“How are your men?” Banachek wanted to know after a nod of thanks.

“Everyone is back to normal except for Jazz. Since he has locked down in deep recharge, Ratchet had to modify the anti-virus program. The recharge unit seems to have been affected and it’s like a continuous loop, keeping him in stasis. But we can solve that problem, too.”

The former research division head was thoughtful for a moment, then looked at the large mechanoid.

“What if you can’t?” he wanted to know, voice level.

“As you humans say, we will cross that bridge when we get there.”

“You lost Jazz once before, Prime, but now you have a Decepticon among you, someone who is only an ally because of Jazz.”

Optimus leaned closer to the human on his desk. “We will deal with it when we get there, Tom. I won’t speculate about what might happen. And I won’t put a guard on Barricade. I trust him.”

“Completely?”

“Yes.”

Banachek was silent for another moment, slightly surprised. He had never had a personal encounter with Barricade. Seeing Megatron break free, nearly taking the secret Hoover Dam facility with him, and watching the Decepticons hurt or kill innocents had been enough. That the apparently lone survivor of the Decepticons on Earth was now allied with the Autobots had left him with a bad taste. So far, in the past years, nothing had happened. Probably because of Jazz.

“He is my problem,” Optimus added, making a point. “He is part of my team.”

Banachek bit back his immediate reply, reminding Optimus just who he was talking about. The mech knew that best. He had fought Barricade in the past.

“I wish you luck,” he only said.

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Hours.

It had taken hours by now and while Ratchet looked not too alarmed at the time going by, Barricade was ready to maul something, better yet: tear it apart into little pieces, then ground them into dust. Accompanied by screams and pleas and cries of pain. Someone’s pain. Anyone’s.

Preferably the enemy’s.

Being a hunter, Barricade knew patience, but that patience had been tested quite severely the last days. He had been stuck in the accursed vehicle mode that rendered him useless in a fight. His joints still ached from being confined so long.

Leaning against the recharge room’s wall, he watched the motionless form of Jazz. It was a familiar form and the resonance he felt coming from the spark was more than familiar even. It was part of him. He recognized it instinctively, whatever Jazz looked on the outside. The protoform underneath the armor was always the same, but aside from two occasions, Barricade had never seen it for long. Adaptation was instinctual, too, even on Cybertron, and with the war, armor had become survival.

He had lost Jazz once before. The Autobot had died. Barricade hadn’t felt it. The bond wasn’t like that. He hadn’t even been aware of it until he had made it to Mission City after the battle was over. He had seen the carnage and destruction and he had witnessed Starscream flee. He had seen Megatron’s dead body and he had seen Jazz.

Torn apart.

By Megatron himself, as he had found out by listening in to the Autobots..

If the Decepticon leader hadn’t been dead by then, Barricade would have killed him with his own hands – aware that it would have cost him his own life.

All he could do back then was hide, remain in the smoky shadows of the ruins, watch the Autobots, watch Prime sadly handle Jazz’s body, and he could have screamed out his rage. Back then he had left as quickly as was stealthily possible, and he had torn things apart. Memories were sketchy for a while.

Jazz had come back. It was a miracle and his second chance in one.

And now all he could do was stand back and watch again, helpless and with rising fury inside him. Barricade had tried to find out the name of the human who had constructed the device that had locked them down. The human Banachek had two likely suspects who were in the wind and Barricade would be one interested party who would pursue these leads relentlessly. He was a hunter. He was patient in that matter. He would find the one responsible and terminate his existence.

For now he would stay in the Autobot base, though he felt less than secure here, and he would watch over Jazz.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Ironhide was rather aware of Barricade’s presence inside their base, but he hadn’t voiced his objection so far. He had passed by the recharge chamber twice, once running into Ratchet, who had pulled him along and given him a stern look.

“What?” the weapons specialist demanded.

“Leave him alone.”

“I wasn’t going to shoot him or anything!”

It got him another one of those looks. Ironhide grumbled.

“How’s Jazz?”

“No change so far, but the recharge bed is unlocking. It just takes longer. Apparently the signal was transferred from Jazz into the recharge unit and interlocked them. First I need to unscramble the bed controls, then Jazz will wake all by himself.”

Ironhide looked back into the corridor, frowning. His own experience in lock down had had him grumpy for the last twenty-four hours and it was a miracle Lennox hadn’t just turned on his heels and left him. The Major had stuck around and been a friend. Ironhide truly appreciated it. Their friendship meant a lot to him.

“He’ll be fine, Ironhide.”

“Have you told him that, too?”

Ratchet smiled. “Yes. But given their past and the last time Barricade lost Jazz, I understand his tenaciousness in sticking around – despite animosities.” The last one was said with a pointed edge.

Ironhide huffed. “I just don’t like Cons hanging around our base.”

“He’s no longer serving Megatron.”

“Once a Con, always a Con.”

“Will you ever cut him some slack?” Ratchet asked, though it sounded rhetorically.

“If not for the spark bond, he’d still be the enemy, Ratchet. Being part of Jazz doesn’t make him the good guy.”

“No. Neither does being an Autobot.”

With that the medical officer walked down the main hall leading to the office area.

Ironhide remained where he was, staring after the retreating form, then snarled a Cybertronian curse to himself and went looking for Will. Maybe his friend would want to go out on the training range with him. It sounded like a good way to get rid of his temper flares.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

When Jazz came back online, he felt fully recharged and fresh. His systems looked good and he was about to get his optics online as well, when he noticed the internal time stamp.

Blue optics flared.

The silver mech sat up abruptly.

“What?” he exclaimed.

A large hand clamped down on his shoulder and he whipped his head around, staring at Ratchet.

“Calm down, Jazz. Let me run a diagnostic first.”

“Five days?” Jazz still blurted. “I was in recharge for five days?! Tell me there’s something wrong with one of my subsystems, Ratchet!”

The well-known figure of Barricade stepped closer and the serious expression in the dark face had Jazz tense.

“Cade?”

“We had a slight problem,” the former Decepticon said levelly.

“What problem?”

Ratchet straightened from his examination. “I’ll tell you in a moment. Let me finish first.” He shot Barricade a warning look.

Barricade’s expression was unreadable, but he complied as well, giving Ratchet enough room to work.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The two mechs were outside the base, at the far end of the cracked tarmac. Jazz sat on a low building, letting his legs dangle. Barricade was leaning against it.

“Five days,” Jazz muttered. “Man… Longest recharge ever.”

Barricade glanced at him, but he didn’t comment. He hadn’t transformed back into vehicle mode for quite a while, and if he did, never for long.

Jazz reached out and let one finger trace along the silver letters on the white armor. It had his companion flinch, as if in surprise. Touch was still something Barricade shied away from. They had never done it excessively before and touch was like a battle move for the former Decepticon. Jazz liked it, though. It was… nice. Especially with a sensitive armor. Humanity could teach even a robotic life form new pleasures.

“Miss me?” he teased softly, though with a sliver of seriousness.

Barricade made a non-committal sound. Jazz grinned. He kept exploring the shoulder armament and when Barricade started to actually lean a little into the touch, he opened their connection.

It got him a startled electronic whisper, then a glare.

“You’re turning more and more human,” the black mechanoid snarled.

“And that it bad?”

“You’re not human.”

“I know.”

“We do not require what they do.”

Jazz tilted his head. “But we can enjoy some things.”

Silence.

“Just… go with the flow, Cade,” Jazz said softly, almost pleading.

Because he knew it was needed. Their bond was evolving. It was something he had noticed. They had never spent so much time together before, never been so close. Their sparks had bonded before the war, and then back then it had been very experimental. And throughout the war they had been on different sides. Every encounter had been quick and filled with fear of discovery.

Here on Earth it was different. They could finally be who they were. Barricade refused to show it, refused to let down his shields except when they were alone. Jazz on the other hand was only too happy with everything. This was their second chance. He would use it.

“Stop watching human soaps,” Barricade now rumbled, but he didn’t pull away again.

“You learn a lot about someone’s culture with it,” Jazz replied with a grin.

“It melts your processors.”

“In a good way.”

Barricade rumbled a little.

Jazz smiled more, enjoying their closeness. He knew that none of the others could understand it, least of all Ironhide, but they all knew about resonating sparks and spark bonds. They respected it. The only one who actually did understand what this was, was a human called Sam Witwicky.

And in a way he was developing something similar with Bumblebee.

Jazz smirked to himself.

Now there was a new way of interspecies relationships.

“What?” Barricade growled.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“That can be dangerous for you.”

Jazz bumped his leg into the black mechanoid’s side. “Bastard. And I wasn’t thinking about you or us. I just thought that Sam and Bumblebee are pretty much developing something like a spark bond. The boy is logging on to him, like we can with each other.”

Barricade frowned a little. “He has no spark.”

“No. But he’s not a normal human any more either.”

“What is a normal human?”

Jazz shrugged. “Don’t know. But no other human was ever touched by the Allspark like this. Ratchet said he’s changed genetically.”

“Is he still a human then?”

A good question. What was the definition of a human being? And did that definition apply to genetics, too?

“How can an organic being bond with a robotic life form?” Barricade asked pointedly. “Only our sparks bond. Our bodies, even our protoforms, have nothing to do with it. For humans, it is all about physical relationships. There will never be a physical relationship.”

“Maybe. And maybe that’s not important, Cade..”

It got Jazz a Look.

“Like you said, there’s no imperative to procreate. This is about a different level of friendship. Like us,” Jazz added.

Still no reply, but Barricade didn’t mock him either. Jazz knew the other mech respected Sam for his courage in fighting Megatron and the others in Mission City, and he had protected him in the past. It was his way of showing respect. He would continue to do so, in his own way, and Jazz sometimes felt little slivers of pride.

“Hey, I know you spent five days in vehicle mode, but wanna go somewhere?” the Solstice changed topics.

Red optics narrowed. “Where?”

“Dunno. Open road, no speed limit, just having fun.” Jazz slid down from the building. “How about it?”

Barricade looked at him for a long second, then a smile appeared on his features.

They were off not a minute later.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Somewhere else, Sam was reclining on Bumblebee’s hood like he had done so often before. It was a nice feeling. Not like lying on a normal car’s hood at all. Bumblebee’s skin was metal, but none ever to be found on this planet. The alloy was alien. And it felt smoother. Warmer. Like skin should.

His friends were all right again. The Sector Seven device had been taken apart by Ratchet and Banachek and then destroyed. There was no reason to keep it, even in parts. It was too dangerous, that they all agreed upon. The search for the brain behind it was still on-going, but they might never find the person who had thought it up. Ratchet was busy going through all boxes and comparing their contents with the data files. Everything not to be found on the lists was immediately placed into high security storage. Ironhide made sure of that.

Optimus was still debating on whether he would allow any of his men, or even Sam, to take a look at the unregistered experiments. It was too dangerous. For all of them. Even a technopath could be injured by the electronics and mechanics of such wild experiments.

“I’m going home this weekend,” Sam said into the comfortable and mutual silence between them.

Bumblebee didn’t say anything.

“I think I should talk to my parents.”

“About your technopathy?” his friend asked softly.

Sam nodded. He had kept it all a secret and it was harder and harder to do so. He was afraid of what his parents would say, think and do. He would never leave his friends, least of all Bumblebee, but they were his parents. Family.

The young man sat up, legs crossed under him. His eyes were on the horizon. It was a cloudy day and the forecast had threatened with rain. So far, no rain.

“They are your parents, Sam. They won’t judge you,” Bumblebee told him.

“I’m not afraid of that.”

“You think they won’t allow you to have contact with us?”

A silent nod.

“They are my parents,” Sam finally said. “I love them. But I love you guys, too. I owe you a lot and you’re my best friend, Bee. I don’t want to give you up and I know I won’t.”

And he would be torn between his family and his friends. He would never be able to choose because he belonged in both worlds, now more than ever.

“You can’t speculate on their reactions,” Bumblebee pointed out. “Unless you tell them, you will never know what they would do. ‘What if’ won’t help.”

Sam sighed deeply and slid off the hood. “Yeah. I hate this.”

“You’ll be fine,” the mech insisted and opened the door. “Let’s get back to the base. I’m sure Ratchet has some really interesting toys to distract you with.”

Sam chuckled. He couldn’t resist playing around with the different devices and it was a distraction. In two days he was going home and he was finally at a point where his resolve wouldn’t shatter on the way to Tranquility and another weekend of lies and obfuscation awaited.

Things would be fine, he kept telling himself. His parents would understand.

Hopefully.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Judy Witwicky looked at her husband Ron, whose expression probably matched hers. It was one of disbelief, shock and annoyance. The disbelief was about what their son had told them. It sounded like sci-fi. Then again, giant alien robots, able to transform into cars and planes had been sci-fi, too. But they existed and Ron had actually bought one of them for Sam. The shock was the result of the disbelief, but the annoyance was about the fact that Sam had kept what had happened to him a secret.

Why? They knew so much already. About the transforming aliens, about the war, about their son being the hero and saving the whole planet from some maniac called Megatron. They had been told about everything and they had digested it all. A lot had made sense.

Judy had been a bit… hesitant, to put it mildly, to approach the Camaro afterwards. She hadn’t seen the transformations, but having the Secretary of Defense telling you about this made it no joke. So she and Ron had met Bumblebee when they had been reunited with Sam. A bruised and battered and dirty Sam, with torn or badly singed clothes, a Sam who had been shell-shocked at first. Their son, the hero.

And he had continued as if nothing had ever changed. With a girl-friend and a car that was actually an alien life form.

Judy had to confess she had been frightened of Bumblebee at first. It had been the size and the whole concept of a sentient alien life form this big, but in the past two years Bumblebee had become part of the family. He was wonderful in her eyes. Warm and caring and, as he had told them, Sam’s guardian. She trusted him.

The others she had met when Sam had taken them to the Autobot base. It had been amazing and frightening and awe-inspiring and terrifying in so many ways. Bumblebee had been big, but Optimus Prime had been gigantic. The Autobot leader had exuded an incredible steadiness, had talked to them like equals, had promised them to protect their son and that no harm would come to him at their hands.

Now he had mutated genes.

Judy swallowed a little and chased the dark thoughts away. It wasn’t the Autobots’ fault. Not really.

“Judy?” her husband asked softly.

She looked at him, saw the same indecision in his eyes that she felt.

And her eyes were on the empty chair Sam had just recently sat in, trying to explain what had happened, what he could do, what this meant. Not that anyone really knew that for real.
Telepathy. Concerning machines.

It was so unbelievable. Their son… was now even more special.

And he had jumped up and ran upstairs, probably holing up in his room.

Judy rose and walked to the window. The Camaro was parked out front.

“He’s our son, Ron,” she finally said. “We love him. He’s still Sam. He’s not someone else now.”

“I know.”

She turned on her heels and resolutely walked up the stairs. Sam was her child, her baby. She had given birth to him, raised him, watched him grow into the young man he was. He would be an engineer one day. He got fantastic grades. He had friends who were a little different from what she had expected, but then even his best friend since first grade, Miles, had never been really that normal.

Sam had never been a jock. He had never made it into the football team. He was smart, though. He had saved a whole planet because of his smarts and his courage and because of his determination.

Judy softly knocked onto the closed door and then opened it slowly. Sam sat on his bed, legs pulled up, looking at her like he was haunted by his own words.

“Honey,” she said softly and walked over to him sitting down on the bed. “You should have told us sooner.”

Sam looked away.

“We are your parents. We love you. We want to know about what happens to you, what bothers you. And we noticed something had changed for a while. I thought it was the change from high school to college. Your dad thought it was because of Mikaela.”

“Yeah, well…” Sam shrugged. “It was that, too.”

She reached out and rubbed gently over one jeans-clad leg. “I’m glad you told us now.”

“You’re not angry?”

“A little bit. And a little bit disappointed that you waited so long.”

There was movement and Ron stepped into the room as well. Judy could see her husband was still chewing at everything.

“So the DVD player and the microwave?” he asked.

Sam nodded, ducking his head a little.

“The neighborhood power outage?”

Another nod.

“I got it under control around household items and simple machines,” Sam said softly, repeating what he had told them downstairs. “And I’m learning with Bumblebee’s help not to invade their systems by accident.”

“You could do that?” Judy wanted to know.

Another nod. “I don’t want to hurt them. Sometimes… in the past… it happened by accident. I got better. A lot better.”

She exchanged a look with her husband, not really that surprised to see her thoughts reflected in his eyes. The Autobots knew Sam could hurt them and still they stuck around. Bumblebee was always there for him. A true guardian.

“Mom? Dad? I… it’s really not their fault,” Sam blurted. “They didn’t cause me any harm and no one could have known. I won’t turn my back on them!”

Judy was a bit thunderstruck. Suddenly she understood where the fear had come from. Not just because they, as the parents would be angry, but also from Sam’s worry that they might not let him be around the Autobots any more.

“Oh honey…” she said softly. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s all because of the Allspark…”

“And nothing can be changed now. I’m more angry about you keeping this a secret for so long, son,” Ron added, trying to sound stern, but he couldn’t really pull it off.

“Sorry, Dad. Mom.”

Judy pulled her son into a motherly embrace and kissed his head. “Just tell us everything from now on. Please?”

He nodded against her shoulder.

“And I think we should talk to this Dr. Keyron, as well as Optimus,” Ron added.

Judy gave him a brief smile and he mirrored it. They would get through this, like they had gotten through tough spots before, though nothing had ever been as fantastic as this.

No sacrifice, no victory, she thought. The Witwicky motto. It had never been so true as in the last two and a half years.

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Ron Witwicky had listened to his son, had watched his face, his expressions, and he had seen him suffer from worry and fear as he told his story. It was incredible and he had wanted to yell at him for being such a stubborn idiot, but his wife’s look had silenced him. She always looked at him like that. It was her ‘he’s your son, Ron, so shut up. You’re just like him’ look.

So now his son was a technopath. Not just the savior of the planet, a hero, and friends with a bunch of aliens who were giant robots, but he had been changed as well. Not by the aliens but by what he had done.

Walking down the path through his garden, he stopped next to the sleek, yellow Camaro. It was already getting dark and his Sam had fallen asleep. His wife was puttering around the house, something she did whenever she was thinking something out. Ron preferred his garden.

But right now he wanted to talk to someone else. Someone who was his son’s best friend – and actually not from this planet.

“Bumblebee?” he asked, voice soft. “May I talk to you?”

It always paid to be respectful.

The car door opened. Of course Ron hadn’t expected Bumblebee to transform. So he sat down on the passenger seat.

“What do you want to talk about, Ron?” Bumblebee asked.

“Oh, don’t give me that. You know what. Sam.”

There was a moment of silence. “He told you everything that happened. What do you want to know from me?”

Ron gestured weakly. “Whatever he didn’t tell me. You know him. He said so. He said you two trained. Tell me how he really is, Bumblebee.”

“Sam is fine, just like he said. He has his abilities under control.”

“I’m not talking about control. I’m talking about… him. How is he?”

Bumblebee was silent and Ron almost heard processors whirr and click. When the Autobot finally spoke, it was a soft voice, a thoughtful and worried and caring voice. It was the voice of a friend, of someone who suffered with his son.

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Sam woke in the middle of the night and he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t really tired any more, but he wasn’t all that awake either.

He had finally told his parents the truth.

They had taken it better than he had thought.

Getting out of bed, he walked over to the window and looked outside. He couldn’t see Bumblebee from here, but he sensed his presence, like he always did.

::Bee?:: he probed, careful in case he was in a powered-down state.

::I’m here, Sam::

He leaned against the window frame and sighed. ::Went better than I thought:: he said, almost to himself.

::I think it went very well. Your father came to talk to me.::

::He did? About?::

::You. Me. Us. What happened and what it changed in the two of us::

Now that sounded weird. Because it conjured up images Sam didn’t want to contemplate.

::Your father tried to understand what happened and I tried to help:: Bumblebee added. ::I think your parents are very supportive::

::Yeah::

Sam yawned.

::You should sleep, Sam:

::I know. Just so much on my mind::

::Do you want to go for a drive?::

Sam felt a smile cross his lips. ::Sure::

He grabbed his shoes and snuck out the door. Bumblebee’s engine ran in what Sam had dubbed ‘silent mode’ as he pulled out into the night.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

There was no such thing as a Peterbilt sneaking down the road. There was no hiding a huge truck with flames on the side. Especially in a neighborhood like the Witwicky’s. So when Optimus Prime parked across the street from the Witwicky home, Ron wondered where the mechanoids had their sense of disguise and keeping a low profile from. This wasn’t hiding, this was drawing attention!

Thankfully it was already dark.

“Is that…?” Judy started.

Ron sighed. “Yes. I’ll see what he wants.”

It’s not like Optimus couldn’t have called him, told him to meet him somewhere. No, he had to come here. Walking across the dark street, he was surprised to hear the door open with a soft click.

“I would like to talk to you, Ron,” the Autobot leader said, voice very low and quiet.

“You could have called.”

“I prefer a personal meeting.”

“You draw attention, Prime.”

“I know. It’s why I chose nightfall.”

Ron shrugged and climbed into the cab. The door closed almost noiselessly.

“We can hide ourselves,” the mechanoid said. “As long as I sit still, a temporary camouflage shield hides my obvious presence. It requires a lot of energy, so we usually only employ it in special situations.”

“Like now. Okay. So, what do you want to talk about.”

“You son.”

“Sam?”

“My data on you shows you have only one child.”

Ron wondered if that was humor or just alien logic.

“Yes, I have. So you want to talk about my son Sam?”

“He told you what happened.”

Ron was silent for a moment, then nodded. “He was changed by the radiation of the Allspark.”

“I came to apologize for what happened, Ron.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he replied, slightly confused.

“We gave the Allspark to Sam. We endangered him. I didn’t realize that the radiation was so dangerous to a human being. I never would have allowed this to happen if I had known.”

Ron gazed at the dash, silent. “Sam’s alive. He survived something terrible and he came out in one piece. That he has changed… I can’t say I’m happy about it. But he’s still our son. We can’t change him back. He’s not deathly ill. He’s not a different person. He’s still Sam.”

“I’m glad you are his parents,” Prime said quietly. “He needs your acceptance.”

“He has it.”

“Thank you.”

“Sam’s special now,” Ron said in an equally quiet voice. “But he’s still our son and he was always special to us. Meeting you guys changed him, let him grow up in a way I never would have imagined. He has plans for the future now, he wants to become an engineer, work with you. I’m proud of him. So is Judy. He has an additional gift now.”

“His gift has already helped us in various ways,” Optimus told him. “I’m honored to have him as an ally and as a friend.”

Ron nodded and opened the door. “Thank you for looking out for him, Optimus Prime.”

He slipped from the cab and stepped back as the massive truck started his engine.

“Thank you for your acceptance,” Optimus answered.

°°°° °°°° °°°°

Ron watched the truck roll down the street. Judy came out to meet him, giving him a quizzical look. He smiled and wrapped an arm around his wife.

“Let’s go inside,” he only said.

Then they could talk.

About the Autobots, about Sam, about the future.

end of Lock Down