Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

DESIGNATION: B-127
AGE: 185 Cycles
AFFILIATION: Autobot
RANK: Apprentice, reconnaissance
LOCATION: Iacon outskirts, Autobot base
MISSION OBJECTIVES: None active

Leaving the mine was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Getting to transform, seeing and learning about Cybertron, and becoming a scout for the Autobots were subsequently the other best things that ever happened to him.

B-127 never felt more alive.

“Do it again, Arcee!” he cheered. They stood out in the camp’s small practice field where she was teaching him some more advanced moves now that he had all of the basics down perfectly. She made the mistake one time of calling him the “perfect pupil,” and he filed that one in his permanent memory banks.

“B, you do know you’re going to have to join in at some point.” She rolled her optics but got into position anyway.

“I know, I know. But it’s so cool when you do it! You jump up like WHOOSH and then spin around in the air like HYAA and then land with a punch like BAM! It’s like gravity doesn’t even exist for you. Wait, you are affected by gravity, right?” B-127 asked, pausing only for a moment for Arcee’s response. She nodded and B-127 picked up again immediately. “I’ll bet even Jazz is jealous of your moves. No one has style like you do! Uh… please don’t tell him I said that. I think it’d crush his spark.”

Arcee laughed. “Don’t worry, B. I’d never dream of it. Now, will you try it with me this time?”

A hop and spin carried B-127 to Arcee’s side, where he dropped his stance to match hers. “Ready.”

“Remember to follow through with your jump. Don’t stifle it. And don’t half-aft your kick either. Give it one hundred percent, or else you’ll fall short.”

“Aye, aye!”

“One… two… three!” she shouted. In near perfect unison, Arcee and B-127 pushed themselves off the ground with a great burst of momentum, twisted themselves in the air, sending out a powerful kick midway through, and landed gracefully on their pedes with bent knees to soften the blow.

B-127 shuttered his optics a few times in shock until he couldn’t contain himself any longer. A series of indistinguishable cheers left him and finally, “YEAHHH! Arcee I totally nailed that! Did you see? No, wait, you were doing it too. But I totally nailed it! Oh man, it was so awesome. I felt like I could fly. Not that I’d want to be a flier. I like the ground plenty enough. But that was epic!”

Arcee gave him a pat on the back while he continued rambling. “It sure was. You did good, B.”

He practically vibrated in place, beaming at her. Since joining the Autobots, he received endless praise, support, and guidance. Never before had he experienced this amount of camaraderie, and he really, truly cherished it. Spending all of his formative years in what Ironhide had eventually convinced him was solitary isolation kind of did a number on him, but now he had friends and mentors and people who he could look up to! Quite literally, in some cases. And they only sometimes asked him to pipe down. Usually it was Ratchet. He knew that he was a bit of a chatterbox, but he’d never had anyone to talk to before coming here. It was just so exciting! The world was amazing and he had the freedom to express himself now. 

“Arcee,” he questioned. “When do you think I’ll be ready for my first mission?”

“Your first mission? You’ve still got quite a bit of training to go through before you’re ready for field work. There’s the physical training that we’re working on, espionage training and stealth, information prioritization and code deciphering, weapons handling, not to mention POW training and—”

“Okay, okay! I get it. Still a lot to do first. But isn’t there anything you could give me? I have been working on my stealth. I even snuck past Sideswipe and Sunstreaker a few nights ago to go out driving.”

“You what?”

“I mean, to get some high-moon energon. They didn’t notice me at all!”

Arcee vented a sigh. “I’ll think of something, alright?”

B-127 lit up and gave her a big hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” This was perfect! He could prove himself with the assignment she gave him, and then Jazz and Optimus would give him real work. This is what he was meant to do!

“You want me to what?”

“To get into Ratchet’s files and lower Ironhide’s core temperature readings by a few degrees. His request. Apparently, doc bot told him that if his readings don’t drop within the next orbital cycle, he’s going to be suspended from field work until they do.”

“You want me to lie? On official medical records?” He was stunned! He was aghast!

“To save a fellow ‘Bot from the bench, yeah. It comes with the territory of being a scout. Observation and gathering intelligence is only part of it. You need to be able to misdirect and deceive as well if the need arises, and right now, it does. Are you up for it?”

Lie a eensy, weensy bit and prove his worth? He was pumped! He was hyped! “Frag, yeah!”

“Oh, Primus.” Arcee shook her helm. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but who allowed you to learn curse words?”

B-127 shuffled back and forth on his pedes sheepishly. “... Might’ve been the Wreckers.”

Arcee chuckled, and with a quick “Good luck,” the amazing Autobot scout B-127 was off on his first mission!

MISSION OBJECTIVES: Infiltrate Doctor Ratchet’s office, edit file on Ironhide, avoid detection

It was late at night. Most of the ground forces were deep in recharge after a full day of planning and strategizing. There was currently a lull in battle since the fight for Iacon had become a stalemate, and Optimus was trying to figure out ways to rout the Decepticons and acquire some of Tarn’s resources.

None of that mattered to B-127, as he sidled up to the walls of the medbay, listening for the infamous grouchy doctor. He was hoping that the mech would also be in recharge, as he should be. He supposed that he was hoping for too much.

Down the hall, the clanking and scraping of metal drifted to B-127’s audials, convincing him that Ratchet, indeed, was wide awake. For the third night in a row. Completely wrenching up the scout's plan to slide in and out without needing to cause a diversion. Arcee did say that Ratchet was a tough customer—nothing got past him—and that this might actually be a more difficult task than whatever first official mission Optimus assigned him. Great.

B-127 slunk down the hall, ensuring that his pedesteps were absolutely silent, and hovered just around the corner from Ratchet's office. The computer he needed was in there, hopefully unlocked, but the issue he faced right now was drawing the doctor away from it. What could he do?

A few possible options passed through his processor, and B-127 realized that if he were to become the Autobot's best scout, he'd have to get better at quick decision-making. Luckily, he reminded himself, he had time.

Cause a ruckus? No, that'd draw too much unwanted attention and he wouldn't be able to slip away. Cut the power? No, that would ruin his own goal as well. He couldn't afford to reveal himself to the doctor, or risk getting into a heaping scrapload of trouble.

Then it hit him. Yes! It was perfect!

“For sure, buddy. Whatever you need,” Cliffjumper said to B-127 from his berth in the medbay recovery wing.

He and B-127 had become fast friends in the short time that the yellow bot had spent at the base, and Cliff was only a few decacycles older than him too! All he had to do, they decided, was to call for Ratchet and make a fuss over something regarding his condition. Cliff had come back from the field recently with some internal wiring damage which affected his ability to command his limbs, and Ratchet was so uptight about his work that it was sure to buy B-127 a fair amount of time.

“Thanks,” B-127 said. “Really.”

Cliffjumper gave him a wink before shoo-ing him out of the room where the scout could hear his hollers for the doctor to come quick. Boy, what a great actor!

The moment Ratchet left his office, B-127 took up residence and sat down at the computer in the center, tapping the screen a few times to wake it back up.

“Slag,” the scout murmured to himself. “He locked it before leaving.”

Okay, so he’d need the password to get in first, and then hope that he still had enough time to find Ironhide’s records, locate the specific file with the specific readings, modify the file, and get out before docbot came back. No problem.

Password. Password. What would Ratchet make his password be? B-127 didn’t know if there was a lockout enabled for the device if he failed too many times in guessing, and he wasn’t willing to find out. Arcee would be proud of him for that, he thought.

Too much time spent thinking, and not enough spent doing. The clock was ticking and Cliff could only cover for B-127 for so long. UGH! Ratchet was too smart to have a stupid password, right? But he was also too old to have a smart password. What if… No. No way.

B-127 typed in Password1. The data display opened up and the scout had to snap himself out of his shock. Leave it to an old bot to have the weakest password Cybertron has ever known. But there was no time to dwell on the doctor’s lack of security and B-127’s pure stroke of luck.

“Alright, now. Ironhide, where are you?” Technological literacy had been on his to-do list, but B-127 really wished at that moment that he had studied more before agreeing to this job. Computers were far out of his area of knowledge—he couldn’t call any of what he knew “expertise” just yet—and being able to read did not mean that he could automatically navigate a whole fragging data network.

What did those buttons do? Now what he wanted. What about that glowy icon? Not it, either.

“Slag,” he repeated. This was more complicated than he anticipated.

Finally, by the grace of Primus, B-127 managed to select the correct menu which brought up the full list of Autobot personnel. Scroll, scroll.

“Aha! Found you!”

B-127 froze when he heard pedesteps approaching. He was about to close the menu and find a place to hide, but a muffled shout from down the hall drew the doctor back. He was going to buy Cliffjumper a cube of the bar's absolute best high grade after this. 

=> Ironhide

=> Medical History

=> Reports

=> Core Temperature

<Sort By Date: Oldest to Newest>

<Last 5 Orbital Cycles>

379.76

383.87

388.09

392.27

395.85

Yeesh. No wonder Ironhide was getting antsy about his readings. Numbers like that and he could rent himself out as a supernova.

All he needs is to be back in the 380s, though. His latest exam still hasn’t been uploaded yet, and if he drops each by just a few degrees, he should be cleared for duty. 387.09, enter. 390.27, enter. 392.85, enter. B-127 looked at the file yet to be added.

393.61

Huh, not bad actually. 389.61, enter.

The scout, quick as lightning, closed the program and locked the computer, making sure that nothing in the office was jostled by his presence. He fled the medbay just in time too, since he heard Ratchet stomping back up the hall muttering about how high-maintenance Cliffjumper was. Yes, definitely a cube of high grade.

“Doc says that my temp readings have finally started to stabilize. Or at least they aren’t climbing too much anymore,” Ironhide boasted at the base’s lounge some solar cycles later. “I get the feeling I owe someone in here a drink.”

“Well, don’t look at me,” Arcee rebutted. “I sent the rookie to do it.”

“The new kid, B-127?”

B-127 perked up at the mention of his designation. “Yes?”

“You’re kidding? He got into Ratchet’s system without getting caught? That kid’s gunnin’ for your job ‘Cee.”

Arcee laughed and looked B-127’s way. He had curled in on himself because he didn’t want to get in trouble, but on the inside, he was jumping for joy. He did a good job and they were proud of him for it! At least it sounded like they were. He also had to learn how to pick up on social cues better and read between the lines. Once again, an area where solitary isolation failed him. BUT, his first ever mission as a scout was a success! First stop, rookie scout. Next stop, best scout of all time!

Chapter Text

DESIGNATION: B-127
AGE: 523 Cycles
AFFILIATION: Autobot
RANK: Scout
LOCATION: Tarn, Laboratories
MISSION OBJECTIVES: Discover and disrupt Shockwave’s work

Optimus has sent B-127 on plenty of risky missions before. Infiltrate the ‘Con ranks and plant false intel on energon sources, go to Kaon and look for any still-active super weapons, board the Decepticon warship and reroute it to crash into one of Cybertron’s moons. But sneaking into the labs of Tarn where perhaps the most terrifying bot ever lived definitely topped the list.

Shockwave was not known for his kindness or mercy. Where Megatron might keep a bot alive for fun or as a message, Shockwave took joy in dismantling, reconstructing, and tormenting, all while the subject was still online. B-127 shuddered all the way down to his protoform. He did not want to become a labcyber-rat.

Tarn had been largely abandoned by its citizens after the war began, but the major districts housing the research and development facilities were still very much inhabited. B-127’s target was a laboratory tower in the center of the science compound where the infamous Shockwave lived and worked, and looking at it, no one would be the slightest bit confused as to who owned it. The tower exuded creepiness, and the very air around it seemed to vibrate in response to the surely countless horrible things that went on inside. What a fun assignment.

B-127 moved quickly and silently through the streets of the city, dodging the numerous security cameras set up to dissuade people from entering the territory. People like B-127. He had become exceedingly proficient in his work over the last few hundred cycles, if he did say so himself, and so making himself undetectable was now second-nature.

Into the tower he went, taking a service entry and subsequently keeping to the near empty employee halls. The scientists who always used the facilities here never left, but they did dismiss their lowly workers early on, one way or another. Wheeljack said that the ‘Con researchers wanted as few bots to know about their work as possible, and that meant no lab assistants. It would certainly make it easier to rifle through the lab without being spotted.

The map B-127 downloaded from an old employee terminal lit up on the scout’s HUD at his command.

“Let’s see here,” he whispered. He never could stay silent for that long. “Shockwave occupies this entire tower, and it’s full of different rooms for different purposes. Guy must have one short attention span. Ugh. Do I really need to search each one?”

The contents of each room was blocked on the employee terminal. Makes sense. He’d want to keep his work secret, probably only on his own mainframe. So where was that?

“Top floor. Of-fragging-course.”

Twenty stories up, and using the elevator could get him caught. What a fun assignment. But, at least he could check into some of the rooms on his way there. There was always a positive side.

Joors passed and B-127 was almost to the top. He was thoroughly weirded out by the mad scientist’s work already, and he hadn’t even gotten to the most questionable stuff yet. This would surely turn out to be one long report.

B-127 Mission Log

Recording rooms with notable work inside. Too many to record all.

One room: sealed. Appears to have a rampant virus inside that even Shockwave abandoned.

Chemical warfare. Various acids and paint-peeling fumes in testing against Cybertronian alloys. Can’t tell if the test subjects were parts or whole bots. Too much damage. Took some samples that were pre-contained.

Eggs? What was he trying to incubate? No further information within room.

Modified weapons and dismembered limbs. Likely trying to merge larger weapons with Cybertronian frames.

Room full of notes on Seekers known as Skywarp and Thundercracker. It seems as though they have outlier abilities. We should be careful with them. Is Shockwave planning on butchering his own mechs?

Finally, B-127 reached the top of the tower, thankfully finding it vacant, and strolled inside of the massive lab that occupied the entire twentieth floor. Windows lined the space and ran from the floor to the ceiling, but they were definitely tinted so that no one could see in, a feature that the scout was very grateful for. All around the room, too, were stasis pods and recovery tanks, and on one side sitting next to the mainframe, was a large machine that appeared half workbench and half torture device. What was that for?

Inside some of the pods, B-127 was surprised to see a few of Soundwave’s cassettes. What were they doing here? Now was not the time for guessing. He didn’t know when the scientist would return, and so he had to get a move on.

The mainframe booted up when B-127 sat down, and he plugged in his lockout override key that would bypass the computer’s security systems with relative ease. Relative was… well… relative. Leave it to Shockwave to have the most advanced protocols that B-127 had seen yet, but the scout had patience. That was something that the Autobots didn’t need to teach him. Eventually, and with a good amount of digit-tapping, the system unlocked and B-127 went right ahead to downloading its contents to his memory banks.

As the files transferred to his storage, B-127 skimmed the ones marked as “Priority One,” and his optics widened in horror.

Shockwave was playing god. These cassettes. All of the bots he experimented on. Shockwave was sampling their CNA and trying to create his own life without the help of the All Spark. He was trying to create life and he was cloning and mangling living Cybertronians in order to do it. It was disgusting.

“Frag,” the scout choked. “This mech is fragging nasty.”

He looked around for an input port to the computer. B-127 carried a small stash of supplies with him on jobs, not much since scouts were meant to travel light, but he just couldn’t resist any opportunity to mess with the Decepticons if presented the chance. And right now was the perfect chance.

Or so he thought, until the sound of the creaking lab doors caught his attention.

“Frag!” he hissed, careful of his volume.

Arcee lesson number eighteen or whatever, always find an escape or a place to hide after entering a new location. Thanks, Arcee, but that would have been great to remember before Shockwave returned!

B-127 ducked behind a stasis pod on the opposite side of the room, hoping that the scientist would only come for the use of his computer. The computer.

He left the computer unlocked!

The large doors that led to the lab swung open and in marched Shockwave, followed closely by—B-127 clamped a servo over his mouth to stop the frightened ex-vent that threatened to spill out— Soundwave.

This mission just got a whole lot more dangerous. Soundwave was damn near impossible to avoid. In fact, scouting missions were deliberately planned so that they wouldn’t involve being anywhere near the Decepticon spymaster.

“Do you not have all that you need? I did not agree to your using my cassettes for your… whims in this manner,” Soundwave questioned. So he was here to retrieve his cassettes? B-127 was surprised to hear that he even lent them out in the first place, although it didn’t sound like Shockwave was entirely honest up-front, either.

The scientist responded, “They were never harmed. I merely needed to test my cloning apparatus, and your minicons were the perfect subjects to do so. They were the most logical choice for my purposes. You may leave with them, and run back to your Lord Meg—” He cut himself off when he noticed the lit-up display of the computer. “What is this?”

B-127 kept his servo in place and lowered himself behind the pod. He didn’t need to witness the moment he got caught and offlined. Being in the same room as these two was scary enough, thanks.

“I am unclear of your meaning,” Soundwave said unhelpfully.

“My data terminal,” Shockwave spoke cooly, as if there was no problem at all. B-127 wasn’t sure if he would have preferred a full-on freakout or not. The mech’s demeanour felt cold enough to stop bots in their tracks.

The scientist continued, “I do not recall leaving it online.”

“Nor do you recall keeping my cassettes for longer than agreed upon. It has been an entire cycle since I entrusted them to your care.”

“As was the agreement.”

“Incorrect.”

The yellow scout was beyond glad that they were distracted from the computer issue, but now he needed them to get the frag out so he could leave! Instead, he heard Shockwave’s voice speak, but it sounded like a layer of static sat over it. Oh! Soundwave must be playing a recording. Boy, these two were petty.

“Six orbital cycles is all I need. Surely you can spare them for that amount of time?”

“I cannot understand why it must be for such an amount of time, but very well. Six orbital cycles it is,” Soundwave’s own voice played through him.

Silence hung in the air when the recording clicked off, neither mech willing to speak, and B-127 was beyond antsy in his hiding spot, and was about three nanokliks from turning the room upside down.

“It seems as though you are correct. My apologies.” A hiss sounded through the room and B-127 made himself as small as possible as the stasis pods all opened up, releasing the cassettes to return to their master. Finally, something besides their endless squabbling was happening, even if it was slagging nerve-wracking.

One of them needed to say something useful. Something B-127 could take back to Prime. Damned if he were going to spend this entire time in a room with two Decepticon high-ranking officers and not learn anything valuable from it. Luckily, his patience paid off like always.

“Do you have any further need of my assistance?” Soundwave asked once his cassettes rejoined him. “Lord Megatron called me back for a sweep of our communications lines. We may have an Autobot interloper in our midst.” That had to be Blurr! It was great to know that he managed to tap their lines without getting caught. Optimus would be thrilled over this status report.

The two Decepticons began walking back to the door when Shockwave responded. “Negative. Please give Lord Megatron my regards and my latest report.”

Nothing else could be heard aside from the opening and closing of the lab doors followed by the scientist’s return to his computer. Which is exactly where B-127 wished Shockwave hadn’t gone. He needed to get out of there!

Could he somehow use his connection to the terminal to create a distraction? Better question: could he rope Soundwave into his “messing with the Decpeticons” idea? Without a doubt.

B-127 pulled up the map of the facility again, active now that Shockwave was here, and the scout could see the security systems online. It was a very good thing, he realized, that he arrived before Shockwave did. Why wasn’t security online before, though? It would have to be a mystery for later he supposed. Somewhere around floor fourteen was an indicator that a sensor was tripped. Soundwave, he guessed. If he could manually create a sensor trip and fake the source signal…

AHA!

A new signal pinged up on floor eight, where B-127 remembered almost purging his tanks after walking in on a giant pile of dismembered body parts. Urk. He wished he didn’t remember it again. 

The plan worked though, and Shockwave just about darted out of the lab to find the source of the security alert. Score! Soundwave’s signal also stopped on floor eight. That crafty spymaster could probably pick up signals from alternate universes if he wanted to, and any unusual information was worth looking into. B-127 knew how that game went.

As soon as Shockwave was gone down the lift, B-127 left his hiding spot and picked up where he left off. Luckily, the scientist neglected to lock his computer this time, so B-127 got right to work installing a corrosion virus to the system. Wheeljack specifically designed it to be untraceable as it rapidly ate away at its host’s data. Within a few solar cycles, nothing will be left, and the Decepticons should hopefully suffer major setbacks from it. Hopefully.

He chuckled to himself as it uploaded, and took the time to decide what to do with Soundwave. Soon, the two ‘Cons will know that the signal was fake and Shockwave will return upstairs, leaving Soundwave prey to B-127 moderate to severely annoying pranks. Oh yeah. He knew exactly what to do.

Two steps at a time, B-127 flew down the stairs as gracefully as a grounder could fly, and burst out of the door on the ground floor, confident that his target would soon join him. He needed this to play out perfectly. Soundwave was smart. Very smart. He could see a ruse with his optics offline. But maybe, just maybe, he’d be willing to lower his guard if B-127 acted as naive as Hot Rod told him he looked.

The yellow scout, in his infinite wisdom, carried a handful of stickers along with his various virus transponders. Stickers that would come in very handy right now. Optimus would totally be proud of him! Maybe even give him a high five! Or a pat on the back!

With a purple Decepticon emblem stuck over his bright red Autobot one and a special transponder held tightly in his servo, B-127 felt ready to approach the scary communications officer. As if on cue, the lift dinged and out walked Soundwave, who paused the moment he saw B-127 standing there, and before Soundwave could attempt to delve into B-127’s mind, the small scout ran up to the taller bot with amazingly feigned excitement.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” B-127 exclaimed giddily, forgetting his earlier trepidation at facing such a foe. “I can’t believe you’re really here! I’ve got to be dreaming!”

Soundwave’s posture relaxed very little, but he lowered the arm he had raised. Most likely meant to scan the scout’s mind. Whew, that was a close call.

“State your designation and intentions. Lying is inadvisable.”

Who needed to lie about your identity when you never officially existed in the first place?! Okay, maybe B-127 had some baggage. But he was fiiiiine. For sure. One hundred percent.

“I came here to meet you, sir. I heard you might be in the area so I swung, er, drove by hoping to catch you! And I did! Oh… uh. I’m B-127, by the way. Your biggest fan! You’re even taller in person! Can I meet your cassettes? Does Shockwave work here? I don’t need to meet him though, he kinda scares me. But you’re basically Megatron’s number one guy, right? I’ve heard Starscream is a bit… well… I shouldn’t say. You’re super cool though! You’re so smart and you’ve got your own whole army, sorta, and-and—”

“Cease your yammering,” the Decepticon commanded with a servo held to his helm. “What is it that you want?”

B-127 bounced on his pedes. This was going great!

“A handshake would be plenty enough for me, sir! But an autograph would be magnificent! Oh! Oh! Could you sign my faceplate?!”

Soundwave ex-vented heavily but stepped forward nonetheless. “... I suppose a shake is acceptable. Do you have a writing utensil?”

The scout made a show of checking his subspace. “Aw, Pits! I forgot my pens. Sorry, sir.”

A shake of the helm and a shake of the servo served as the rest of their conversation. Soundwave exited the lab promptly afterward and B-127 followed suit, double-checking his virus statuses and information cache. All good. Frag yeah! He nailed this assignment!

B-127 ripped his ridiculous purple sticker off and raced all the way back to base.

“Pull it up on the speakers! I want to hear it!” B-127 shouted to Jazz. The virus that he infected Soundwave with thanks to that unfortunate handshake should be in full effect by now. It very conveniently, for B-127’s entertainment, had a one-way transmitter encoded so that the Autobots could hear what was happening on Soundwave’s end.

Optimus had been very proud. For the update on Blurr, for the detailed and disturbing report on Shockwave along with samples, and for managing to return online after encountering Soundwave in person. B-127 was positively bursting with joy.

“Okay, here it is,” Jazz announced.

A roar of static rang, then leveled out to a collection of voices speaking in the background.

“—scream, if you cannot complete this one, simple task, I swear I will—oh. Soundwave, you’ve returned. Tell me, what is the status of Shockwave’s work with your cassettes?”

So Megatron knew about the cassette-cloning too, huh? Interesting.

When Soundwave went to answer, B-127 couldn’t hold back his laughter. Where a cold, monotone voice should have been was instead the loudest, most piercing horn that could ever be heard, and to boot it had an awful wobbly pitch that could dull any sensor.

“HOOOOOoooOOOOooOOOooooooooOONK.”

“Soundwave?”

“HOOOOOOOoooooooOOOoooOOooOooooOOOONK.”

“Ugh. Report to the medical bay at once.”

“HOOoooooOOO—”

“And do not try to speak again until Knock Out asks you to!”

B-127 was bent over laughing, struggling to in-vent without choking, and beyond glad that his plan worked. Even Jazz was grinning!

“Where in Primus’ name did you get a virus like that? Where did that audio come from?” Jazz asked through a chuckle.

“Remember,” B-127 tried to calm himself. “Re-remember when Bulkhead came back after getting squashed by Lugnut? And his horn wouldn’t quit blaring until Ratchet yanked it out?”

Jazz’s jaw dropped open. “No way.”

“Yes way!” he hollered, still delirious. This was a win like no other.

“Well, your methods are… unconventional. But,” Jazz smiled big. “That is what I’d call a job well done. You did some really good work out there, B. Keep it up.”

Keep it up, he will. Bring it on!

Chapter Text

DESIGNATION: B-127
AGE: 1,674 Cycles
AFFILIATION: Autobot
RANK: Scout
LOCATION: Vos, Air Command Center
MISSION OBJECTIVES: Discover, relay, and halt Seeker plans

B-127 felt grossly underqualified for this assignment. One thousand, some couple hundred-odd cycles worth of training, and B-127 still didn’t think he should have been the one to take this mission. He didn’t have much choice, though, when Optimus Prime personally handed it to him and said simply, “Return safely.”

That was it. That was the pep talk. Real uplifting words, Prime. He was only going to one of the most dangerous places on Cybertron, and not because of the terrain or the security or the weaponry there, but because the place was like a ticking time bomb. Having to brave the Seeker’s Air Command facility was going to be like walking on hot coals. One wrong move and he’d be done for. Blammo. Kablooey.

He wasn’t convinced that Optimus trusted in his abilities quite enough for him to have been the boss bot’s first choice, but with Jazz gone, someone had to step up. Unfortunately for B-127, his step up was less step and more shove. Arcee and Cliffjumper were both busy and the rest of the intelligence team was dwindling thanks to Soundwave’s fragging minions getting the jump on them all the time.

Prime semi-frequently expressed his confidence in the yellow scout’s abilities, and while B-127 was thrilled to have someone who believed in him, he sometimes wondered how much of it was a fib so he’d stay obedient. No. Optimus wouldn’t do that. B-127 had worked with the Autobot leader for long enough now to know that. Even if he was still young. Even if he was still a little rough around the edges. What mattered was that he got results.

B-127 never failed, and he wasn’t about to start now. This job was as good as done.

Vos was beautiful. It sat virtually untouched by the war since Starscream never let it become a battlefield after pledging himself and the Seekers to the Decepticon cause. Obviously, it was a selfish decision on the flyer’s part, but B-127 found himself feeling grateful that someone had the sense and pride to preserve part of their home.

The Seekers had patrols almost all over the planet, but, funnily enough, the one place they were more lax was the place where they resided. The scout guessed that the overwhelming presence of elite flyers alone would deter most visitors and that only a fool would dare enter the famed city.

Fortunately for the Autobots, B-127 was their fool.

Most every building that craned its neck into the boundless sky had an upper level landing pad, and the streets were poorly laid and even more poorly maintained, proving immediately how hostile this city was to grounders. At one point, B-127 learned from Optimus, the city had been a home for all. But the war drove the flyers of Vos to look out only for themselves, and so allowed the groundwork of the city to fall into disrepair. It didn’t matter to them—they couldn’t see the ground well from the air. Even without official patrols and the high elevation that made up their open airspace, B-127 was sure that driving on these roads would rattle his frame enough to call the attention of every bot within ten kliks. So, he decided to walk.

There was little air traffic as B-127 ran from building to building, unsurprising since the scout was in Vos to follow up on rumors that the Seekers were mobilizing for something. Well, it definitely seemed like they were getting ready for something if no one was out. Now his job was just to find out what that reason was.

It was easy enough to get to the Air Command Center. The next challenge was to find a way in. Damn Starscream and his vanity. Damn all flyers’ vanity, actually. The skyscraper had no ground-level entrances. No ground-level windows either, as a matter of fact. B-127 completed a full sweep around the perimeter and noted that the lower part of the building appeared to be an older construction style than the upper parts. Checks out that the higher floors would receive renovation but the bottom would be left in the same state as the roads. The scout was also glad to note that unlike the perfectly smooth sheet metal that comprised the facade further up, what blocked his way on the ground was nothing more than poorly welded flaps of rust. It’d be like cutting through aluminum.

The hallways inside the command center were packed. Bots raced around in all directions, zipping this way and that in preparation for something big, and B-127 knew in his spark that his job was going to be a glitch and a half to accomplish. He needed to get to a service terminal, but every single one that he managed to catch a glimpse of was occupied. Not that he’d even be able to make it to one in the middle of the crowded halls without being blasted to bits in two nanokliks!

He managed to avoid detection so far by sticking to the building’s ducts and climbing the tower from the inside, literally. Comments about his rather diminutive stature usually irritated him to no end, but he could have celebrated his height crawling through the ductwork if it wouldn’t definitely get him caught. Tunnel after tunnel, terminal after terminal, hangar after hangar after hangar he passed, and still there was nowhere he could easily access. Didn’t this place have offices too?

“Whoaaaa!” B-127 crashed hard onto the floor when the piece of scrap vent gave way. “Ow.”

He pushed himself up, rubbing his freshly scuffed chestplate, and realized immediately that he wasn't alone. Two coneheads sat across from where he landed, staring dumbfounded at the intruder. He stared dumbfounded right back.

“Uh… hey guys,” he said nervously.

The two jets stood up in unison and the blue one spoke, “Hey! What do you think you're doing?”

The white one elbowed his comrade and mumbled, “I don't think this guy is one of us, D. He looks too… groundy.”

Oh boy, these two must be new recruits. B-127 was going to have so much fun with this.

“That's my disguise,” B-127 fibbed, rolling his shoulders. “Good, right? I thought the bright yellow and Autobot sticker might be a bit overkill, but, uhh, our CO seemed to like it. Hey, did you guys hear the one about the jumbo jet?”

“No?” The white one drew out, seeming to warm up a bit.

“C'mon, Ram,” the blue one piped up. “We don't know this guy. We don’t even know what he’s doing here.”

B-127 needed them to buy this charade. Please, please, please don't get him turned in.

“But I want to hear the joke!” Ram exclaimed. Yes! He's got one on the hook!

The blue one rolled his optics and gestured for the yellow bot to continue.

“Well, a jumbo jet walks up to a bar, and the bartender goes, ‘What can I get for you?’ and the jumbo jet goes, ‘Just one cube of premium, please.’ So the bartender gives the jumbo jet a jumbo cube of premium!”

The coneheads looked at each other and then back to B-127. “That wasn't really funny,” Ram said.

The scout smirked. “Sorry about that. I just made it up on the fly.”

A moment passed by silently before the two jets started bellowing laughter, Ram just about falling to his knees, and the other one clapping his friend on the back.

“Dude, that was—HA!—that was so fragging funny. You must have been a comedy bot before the war, huh?”

B-127 forced out a chuckle. “Comedy bot. Yeah. Anyway, you guys know the way to the navigation and planning offices? I got pretty turned around in here and I need to confirm my mission location. With all those Autobot bases out there, I want to make sure I hit the right one, y’know?”

If he could skip the service terminal and go straight for the gold… Maybe this mission wouldn’t be that much of a glitch.

“Oh yeah, totally! Level thirteen, right down the hall from the lift. They’re rooms, wait lemme think, 13-N7 and 13-N12. Right, Dirge?”

“Sounds right,” he responded. “Careful, though. A lot of the CO meeting rooms are on that floor, too. I think Screamer is wrapping up with his trine right now. Preparing for the siege and all, and he’s probably in one of his pissy moods. Hey! We’ll be hitting the base in the Crystal City sector. Maybe we’ll see you there.”

“Maybe,” B-127 said with a smile. Inside, his spark felt like it was imploding. What were the Seekers planning? “Thanks a ton guys! Happy hunting out there!”

“Right back atcha, buddy. Catch you later!” Ram gave him a fist bump, Dirge gave him a wave, and B-127 was on his way once again.

So, level thirteen. The lift was still out of the question since he barely managed to trick the two rookies. Back to the ducts, then. And this time, B-127 hoped, he wouldn’t fall through again.

Luck was on his side as he made the ascent as well as when he hovered over some vents that he could hear voices coming from. One was unmistakable. Air Commander Starscream.

“—are aware that we are mobilizing, however, they are unaware what our goals are. We will use their confusion and panic to our advantage and claim Iacon once and for all. You are all familiar with our battle plan, correct? Ugh. Yes, Skywarp?”

A different voice spoke up. “Could you tell us again? I might have fallen asleep the first fifteen thousand times you went over it,” Skywarp snickered.

“Fifteen thousand times seemed to be enough for the other officers, unless you’d prefer to relinquish your position in my armada?”

“I’m just playing with you, Screamer.”

“What was that?” Starscream asked sharply.

“No, sir,” Skywarp amended quickly, but not without a grumble. “I’ll keep my position, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. You’re here to receive your assignments and detachments. Skywarp, you will take air strike squad 23 and lay waste to the Autobot base set up in the remains of Nyon. Thundercracker, you will take squad 24 and go to the base located closest to Iacon. Keep them busy and cripple them as much as possible. Draw them away, even. We need time to fully take the city under our control. I’ve already briefed Acid Storm and Nova Storm. They’ll be at the bases by Crystal City and Polyhex. The squadrons have already been given their instructions and should be readying themselves now. I expect nothing short of perfection from you in drawing the Autobots’ focus so that my force can take Iacon. We move out today at 1500 joors and I anticipate securing the city by 2000 after we complete our sweeps and exterminations. You will be notified of any updates. Any questions?” Starscream spoke with unabashed confidence. For a slimy, rotten mech, the guy sure was a good strategist.

“Just one,” Thundercracker said. “Does Lord Megatron know about all this?”

Starscream scoffed in response. “Megatron doesn't know and Megatron doesn't care! He can wrench Iacon from my servos himself if he so wishes, but this siege will be mine. My air force has been stifled enough flying those pathetic patrols. This will be our chance to demonstrate how invaluable we are, then he'll never underestimate us again! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Are there any more questions?”

“No, sir!” The Seekers announced in tandem.

“Dismissed!”

Frag. FRAG! The Seekers were going to attack every single Autobot base at the same time and also take over Iacon? This was nightmare scenario number one. What to do? What to do? There were only three joors until the attacks, numerous and simultaneous attacks, which didn't leave B-127 enough time to return to base in person. And that was if he could even make it out safe with the entire armada on the move there.

First thing's first. He had to get word to Optimus. He had to warn the Autobots.

*Optimus! Optimus! It's B-127, here at Vos Air Command. Optimus, come in!* He was practically pleading through his comm link. To his great relief, a familiar voice answered him.

*What’s up, B?* Blurr greeted him. *I'm routing you through a signal scrambler just in case anyone's tapping us. Let me get you Prime.*

A nanoklik went by. Then two. Then a few more.

*Blurr, today please!*

*Bingo!*

The comm link crackled with static before a booming voice took over the feed.

*B-127, you have a progress report?*

*Optimus! We'reindeepslagtheSeekersaregonnaattackallofourbasesanddistractussotheycantakeIaconandStarscream—*

*Slow down, B. What's going on?*

B-127 paused for a moment to steady his spark as he continued his way to the navigation room.

*Starscream is launching a coordinated attack on each of our bases at the same time. He's using it as a distraction so he can take over Iacon, and he said that he's going to exterminate the city. Optimus, everyone is in danger. You've got to evacuate.*

*Will you be able to get back safely?*

Leave it to big bot to care about B's well-being first. Even though everything was at risk. Everyone he's ever known could die today.

*Negative. They move out at 1500 and this place is swarmed. Maybe I can help from here.*

The scout dropped, much more gracefully this time, into the navigation office which was thankfully empty. As expected, the data displays and maps charted the Autobot bases and the Seeker squadron rendezvous points with pinpoint accuracy. Then an idea hit him.

*What if I altered their coordinates? Only slightly so they wouldn't notice but enough to buy you guys some time to evac or form a counterattack. We can muster a group to defend Iacon, too.*

*We will do what is necessary to protect the lives we have been charged with. That includes yours, B-127. Be careful.*

A smile grew on B-127's faceplate. What a sap.

*Yes, sir.*

The yellow scout strode up to the displays and studied the available information.

*Blurr, you still on here?*

*Affirmative. What can I do for you?*

“Can you get me tapped into the Seeker comm line? One way only, of course. I want to keep track of them.*

*You got it, bud.*

A few kliks later, B-127’s processor became a buzz of static before the frequency levelled out. The only chatter on the line was the fleet leaders checking the status of their troops and systems, so B-127 muted it until the time was right.

Each set of coordinates for an Autobot base corresponded to a set for an emergency rendezvous point for the squadrons, but the scout noticed that the only base with visual ID was the one by Iacon. So, the Decepticons knew of the other bases but never fully marked them? That made this a whole lot easier! He knew that he couldn’t change the coordinates set for the Iacon base without the Seekers noticing since that was their most exposed base of operations. It was honestly a miracle that it had never been attacked. Well, up til now anyway.

Let’s see here…

=> Autobot Base at Crystal City
      Lat: 62.770
      Lon: 27.235
=> Autobot Base at Nyon
      Lat: -1.312
      Lon: -48.702
=> Autobot Base at Polyhex
      Lat: 41.385
      Lon: -103.370
=> Autobot Base at Iacon
      Lat: 47.259
      Lon: 83.846

<Modify>

=> Autobot Base at Crystal City
      Lat: 62.770
      Lon: 19.235
=> Autobot Base at Nyon
      Lat: -11.312
      Lon: -48.702
=> Autobot Base at Polyhex
      Lat: 49.385
      Lon: -108.370
=> Autobot Base at Iacon
      Lat: 47.259
      Lon: 83.846

<Save Changes?>

“Don’t mind if I do,” B-127 laughed as he confirmed the edits. “This’ll have them flying in circles!”

He checked his cronometer. 1248. Nearly two joors until the Seekers moved out. He wanted to be back to the nav room before then to ensure that they never recovered their coordinates, but he definitely had enough time to frag up their operation a bit more. The office held a building-wide service terminal, much to B-127’s delight, and he immediately downloaded a map of the place plus the time plan sent out to every flyer available for duty.

Level eighteen held the command offices. Seventeen, sixteen, and fifteen were all dispatch hangars. Aha! Fourteen was ammunition storage and issuing.

B-127 was no engineer. He couldn’t build a gun if you gave him a bazillion credits and just as many cycles. But he could absolutely take one apart. He stalked the vents before dropping in, listening for any voices down below in the munitions room, and went a little further just ahead of where the exit door was. He had to lead the requisition officers out so that he could perform his art in peace, and misdirection was right up his alley.

With the duct panel to the room slid out of place, B-127 looked around and tried to make out what kind of weapon he hovered over. Zoom, zoom. Focus. Shock charges? Electricity bombs?! Perfect! A partial transformation readied his stingers, his brand-new and first ever internal weapons system. Ratchet decided that he was finally ready for his own offensive modification, “The only thing more offensive than your vocabulary,” he’d said, but B-127 was beyond excited to have his own built-in weapons. Now he could be a spy and a warrior!

The key to using them was control. Ditto for luring out the enemy without making a scene. At least, at first. He activated the stingers at their lowest output setting, causing nothing more than some electric hums in short pulses, then slowly raised the power output and listened for the officers to notice something amiss.

Their voices were muffled from across the room, but sure enough, B-127’s plan was working.

“Do you hear that?” one asked.

“The buzzing? Yeah, must just be a light fixture.”

“I’m not sure. It sounds like it’s coming from… Slag! It’s coming from the Static Bombs!”

The sound of running ricocheted off of the ammunition stacks and right before it reached the scout’s hiding spot in the ceiling, he charged his stingers up all the way and aimed straight for the crates full of bombs.

Zzzzzzzt!

“Quick! Let’s get out of here!”

KABOOM!

The exit door slammed shut behind the two bots right as the room exploded in an enormous electrical burst, blowing out B-127’s audials and briefly whiting out his vision. He slid back into the duct, narrowly avoiding the blast, but felt the heat and plate-tingling sensations that followed it. The exact nanoklik that it was safe to enter, the scout dropped down and locked the door from the inside, barring it as well with some rubble left behind by the explosion before the officers could re-enter. Whew.

Lingering static occasionally made B-127 twitch, but the place was his now. The room was expansive—more than he anticipated—and he wanted to be out of the place before 1400. If the Decepticons operated anything like the Autobots, which was unfortunate to think, B-127 would guess that ammunition would be passed out one joor ahead of mission departure. 1314. Plenty of time. He strolled the aisles of crates lined up next to their respective check-out terminals and tried to decide what would affect the Seekers most.

The Seeker commander and fleet leaders were nearly unstoppable even without standard issue weapons. Starscream had rechargeable null-rays, Thundercracker had his sonic booms, Acid Storm and Nova Storm both had weather-altering abilities, and Skywarp had fragging teleportation. Those five were their own beasts to contend with. The rest however…

Crates of missiles and compact bombs took up an entire wall, and B-127 knew exactly what to do. One by one, he opened each crate, popped the caps off of each missile and bomb, and disconnected their charges. Then he put the caps back on and resealed the crates as if they’d never been touched. It was brilliant. The Seekers wouldn’t even realize that their explodey things wouldn’t explode until they hit the ground. HAHA! Wheeljack should be begging B-127 to work for him at this rate.

1357.

Slag. He had to get out of there and fast. The vent panel slid back into place not a moment too soon, as Thundercracker barrelled in through the doorway and straight into a pile of debris.

“Damn,” he said. “Screamer ain’t gonna like this. You two, start cleaning up now! We need this place in good shape for distribution.”

B-127 didn’t need to hear the rest of that conversation. His work here was done. With one joor left until the attacks, he decided that it was high time for a refreshment. No sane bot would be slacking off at the bar before they were due to fly, right?

As it turns out, no sane bot was slacking off at the bar before they were due to fly. The bar was empty and the taps were open and B-127 had the time of his life drinking the Decepticon’s premium high grade. This stuff was slagging good! He got the music player going—Jazz was the first bot to introduce B-127 to music and the scout fell in love then and there. The rhythms and the melodies and the lyrics carried meanings and conveyed emotions that B-127 hadn’t even realized existed until he heard them sung and played. The revelation of music made him reflect on his time in the mine with even more sadness.

He didn’t know what smooth, filtered energon tasted like. He couldn’t see colors the way they were meant to be seen. He couldn’t imagine what music was besides a short series of plinky notes hummed out of tune. He couldn’t imagine how warm another bot’s servo felt when it patted him on the back or on the helm.

B-127 danced all around the empty bar full of vigor and energy and life. He had a life worth living now and he intended to keep it that way. That meant protecting the lives of the bots he cared about most. 

1443.

Time to get to work.

Back in the navigation office, B-127 unmuted the Seeker’s communication channel and was instantly greeted by their incessant barking of orders. Five kliks until go time. The coordinates he inputted were still the primaries and the requisition officers confirmed over comms that the artillery has been successfully passed out. Skywarp was set to leave first, and the moment the clock struck 1500, B-127 felt the building vibrate with the activation of an entire squad’s engines all at once. Acid Storm and Nova Storm left soon after, and the scout felt certain that the building would collapse from all of the pressure of launching multiple hangars full of jets at the same time.

Once those three leaders confirmed their ranges, Thundercracker began assembling his squad. Vos’s proximity to Iacon gave him some downtime before needing to leave, and he used it to mostly bicker with Skywarp over their assignments. B-127 hoped that Optimus had taken his advice and gotten the scrap out of there. At this point, he didn’t want to switch back to the Autobot frequency for fear of losing the Seeker’s, so he resigned himself to radio silence, instead using his access to their navigation units and command transmitter to his advantage. This level of listening in was the pinnacle of scouting.

Starscream was waiting to deploy his troops until the Autobots were properly distracted. 1730. B-127 was bored. Transit was fast compared to any other type of aerialbot, but it still dragged on when the only entertainment was Skywarp teleporting himself directly in front of his flyers and forcing them into tight maneuvers to avoid collision. His maniacal cackling served to keep the scout awake, but it still only managed to jolt him from dozing off every so often. Only when the rumble of engines began again did B-127 sit up, fully alert. Thundercracker was leaving, which meant that the first three were almost in position and Starscream would be departing soon as well.

The Seeker comm line roared to life.

*Acid Storm in range. Awaiting command.*

*Yo, Skywarp here. Just about there, too. Let us know when you’re ready, Screamer.*

*Nova Storm checking in. We’ve got maybe twenty more kliks, but we’ll cover that in no time. Ready when you are, Commander.*

*Thundercracker, status?* Starscream demanded after a beat with no report.

*Should be there soon. No sign yet.*

*Hmph, very well. Seekers, this is our moment. Megatron will never be able to look down upon us again. Today, we are the victors!*

The Air Command Center shook as Starscream’s squad brought their engines roaring to life and rocketed out of the hangar. A cheer erupted over the link before Starscream silenced them again with one final command. *Seekers, attack!*

B-127 watched the dots that represented each squad leader on the map drop in altitude. They were diving, ready to level some Autobot bases to the ground. B-127 grinned. There was only one itty bitty problem with that.

*Starscream!* Thundercracker’s voice took over the line. *The base is gone!*

*What do you mean “gone?” How does a base just disappear?*

Gone? YIPPEE! So Optimus didn’t just evac the base, they fully bugged out! Maybe that meant that they’d be ready for Starscream in Iacon. No matter what, they weren’t about to be blindsided and that was a win in B-127’s books.

*I mean it’s gone! There’s nothing left here.*

*Bases don’t just get up and walk away! You have the correct coordinates, yes?*

*Yeah, of course!*

Starscream didn’t have a chance to question the accuracy of information anymore once the other leaders began calling in their similar woes.

*The base isn’t here!*

*We can’t find anything!*

*No sign of the Autobots!*

*Slag!* Starscream cursed. *We’ve located some of the Autobots. The rest of you, expand your searches at low altitude to fifty kliks in every direction. I want those bots found!*

The sounds of gunfire echoed through the comm line and made B-127 feel a processor ache coming on. In the mass confusion, he decided to continue to alter the base coordinates, hoping that it would at least throw off their search radiuses. If they didn’t know where they started, they wouldn’t know where to go, right?

*Commander, our coordinates keep changing!* Nova Storm complained.

*Frag the coordinates! Mark your locations and fly on instruments!*

*On instruments, sir?* Acid Storm asked nervously.

*You heard me!* Starscream barked.

The comm became eerily quiet after that, aside from the background shouting. There were few explosions to be heard and B-127 knew that Starscream must have realized that their artillery was unusable since his squad’s trackers dropped to ground level. If it was a fight on pede, the Autobots surely had this one in the bag.

One particularly loud BANG rang out and then Starcsream came back onto the comm line. *Skywarp! Thundercracker! To me!*

Oh no. The Autobots no longer had this in the bag.

*You too, Acid and Nova. Forget your targets!* he continued. *They wouldn’t make it here anyway. We can take the city, but we need you here!*

B-127 frantically switched back to the Autobots’ comm link frequency.

*Prime! Thundercracker and Skywarp are on their way to Iacon! I repeat: The rest of the Elite Trine and the Storms are coming to Iacon!*

The link fizzled out before he could hear any response. This wasn’t good. He needed to be there. He needed to help.

B-127 raced out of the building without a care if there was anyone left to see him and transformed as soon as his pedes hit the road. He’d never driven so fast in his life, but dire situations always tend to push bots past the limits of their capabilities. Iacon came into view within fifteen kliks but the scout couldn’t even spare a moment to congratulate himself on his new speed record. A static buzzing filled the air before a flash of purple lit up the sky.

He supposed it was too good to wish that the other Seekers would simply fly back and take another two joors to do it. Skywarp deposited Acid Storm into the field, and B-127 could see Nova Storm and Thundercracker flying loops around the city. Frag. They were already here.

The fighting was close to the edge of the city where the Autobots would have come in from. They weren’t losing, were they? A deafening boom assaulted his audials and stunned him for a nanoklik, and he realized with horror that they were, in fact, losing. Even without the use of standard weapons, the Seekers were formidable, especially when the only defense was a fraction of the Autobot army.

“Nonononononono! Hold on!” B-127 pleaded to no one. They couldn’t lose Iacon. That was Optimus’ home!

An external update to B-127’s mission appeared on his HUD.

::Rendezvous at 45.257/68.089::

They lost.

They were retreating.

Starscream captured Iacon and B-127 wasn’t able to do anything about it.

He failed.

“B-127, please step forward,” Optimus Prime commanded.

Reluctantly, he did as he was told. This debriefing was not going to be fun.

“Please explain to us what you did while inside the Air Command Center.”

The scout took a heavy in-vent and forced himself to look at his leader as he spoke. “I entered the facility to find out what the Seekers were mobilizing for. While inside, I learned that four squads of flyers would be targeting our outpost bases at Iacon, Polyhex, Nyon, and Crystal City. These attacks would serve as distractions while Starscream took over Iacon City. I was able to alter the coordinates marked for the bases, not including Iacon, and I also disconnected all of the charges in their missiles and bombs to cripple the standard flyers. While they flew, I continued to change their coordinates to impair their homing abilities. I was not able to stop the Seekers from taking Iacon.” He dropped his optics to the floor. “I-I’ve failed, sir.”

His mission was to learn but also to stop whatever the Seekers were up to. Losing an entire fragging city is probably the biggest fumble in the history of the Autobots. Ever.

“Look at me, B-127.”

A frown took over the scout’s features as he lifted his optics back up. Boy, if he weren’t in the presence of every Autobot officer, he’d definitely be on the ground crying right now.

Optimus continued. “You have not failed.”

Come again?

His expression must have spoken for him because Optimus only smiled.

“While it is true that we lost the city of Iacon, you have succeeded in keeping the entire Autobot force and dream alive. If it weren’t for your intel and action, our bases would have surely been wiped out in addition to their siege of the city. You have not failed because we are all still here. We are alive thanks to you, B-127.”

“B-but the city,” he sputtered.

“Is only a place,” Optimus finished for him. “You’ve saved us all, and I am so proud of you.”

Well, scrap. Maybe he would cry.

He didn’t fail. He didn’t fail. He didn’t fail.

And he would never fail again.

Chapter Text

DESIGNATION: B-127
AGE: 2,349 Cycles
AFFILIATION: Autobot
RANK: Scout
LOCATION: Iacon, Archives
MISSION OBJECTIVES: Retrieve safe planet database

Now this was a job he could get behind. Stealth and recovery in its purest form. Arcee ran more recon missions than B-127 did, but she was better at analysis and decision making than he was. He ran more infiltration and observation missions thanks to his agility and improvisation skills. He was also a better liar when it came down to it. Sneaking into Iacon while it was overrun with Decepticons, making it all the way inside the archives building, and stealing the entire catalog of recorded planets deemed suitable for life was exactly the reason why B-127 was one of the Autobot’s best scouts.

The Decepticons had been controlling Iacon for the last six hundred-ish years during which time the rest of the planet began to suffer from the destruction of war, and the Autobots began losing their hold on other areas. Slowly but surely, the Autobots were facing annihilation the way they were being backed into corners. It pleased no one to admit that it was time to look for alternative planets to move to, but everyone held hope that their planet would someday become livable again.

In the meantime, the safe planet database would provide options for a full planet evacuation and the Autobots could regroup from there.

It wouldn’t be easy getting into the heart of the city with the heavy Seeker patrols and ground forces monitoring admittance. Luckily, B-127 knew a way.

More than two thousand cycles passed, the scout realized, since he had been in Iacon’s underground. He never went inside the city limits once the Seekers took control of it, but it’s not like he ever got to spend time there pre-war anyway. He had no memories of it before it started to crumble. The mines, however, should still be mostly intact, and he could pull those maps from his long-term memory storage.

There were no explosions to shake him, no signs of fighting to distract him, but as he found the old exit tunnel to the mine network, he found himself missing how simple things used to be. They weren’t, not really, but it always felt that way looking back into the past. He missed when he was still fresh-faced and new to the cause. He didn’t miss having to learn how to navigate social situations. He missed experiencing literature and music and art for the first time. He didn’t miss the constant system overrides to prevent him from returning to the mine. He missed the first friends he ever made. Jazz, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker were all nothing but memories now.

The mine was dark, as expected. B-127 held an in-vent as he adjusted his optic settings.

=> Settings

=> Vision

‣Default
 Ultraviolet
 Infrared
 Full Spectrum
 Grayscale

<Select>

 Default
 Ultraviolet
‣Infrared
 Full Spectrum
 Grayscale

<Save Changes?>

He ex-vented when he confirmed the switch, and his vision fell into an ugly barrage of oversaturated and underutilized color that made the world appear patchy and flat. He did not miss this.

But, as if no time had elapsed, the setting became familiar again and B-127 made his way into the bowels of the city, following the same tired trails that served as his home for far too long. He took the time in solitude and with no Decepticons on his aft to stack his maps of Iacon and the mine in order to pinpoint where he’d need to exit to get closest to the archive building. Better yet, inside the building.

Unfortunately, none of the tunnels crossed directly under the building he needed, but Optimus told him that skybridges linked Archives with the Iacon Labor Offices and Department of Public Works. Right there! A service shaft exited to the maintenance entry point for the DPW building! He found his way in.

The shaft opened up exactly on target and B-127 climbed out to quickly dart inside the building. There wasn't a soul inside the place, and the scout was willing to guess that the Decepticon's occupation of Iacon was merely a way to flaunt their power. They didn't need any of the resources that the city had when Megatron was happy to reside in Kaon or on his shiny, new warship. The Seekers only kept it, too, because it bolstered their territory with Vos just next door.

Of his most recent jobs, this one was definitely turning out to be the easiest. His last one almost went to scrap in two shakes, but that was to be expected when infiltrating said Decepticon leader's shiny, new warship, the Nemesis. His task was to download the warship schematics and full layout in case any Autobot became a POW. It made it a lot easier to escape a place when you knew where the exits were. He should know. He got caught on that job.

But B-127 was a master of stealth and misdirection now, plus Ratchet outfitted him with actual blasters! He was proud to say that the Decepticons were minus three vehicons and plus one gaping hole in their hull.

The DPW building was laid out plainly enough that even a newspark would be able to navigate it. The only problem was the multitude of windows that lined every staircase. There was an elevator, of course, but the risk of finding an enemy on the other side of the doors when they dinged open, as unlikely as it may be, was one that B-127 preferred not to take.

So, a medium-intensity workout it was to be. The skybridge was, to B-127’s relief, only halfway up the building. To his dismay, however, the entire thing was glass.

Left, right. Left, right. No Seekers in sight. No grounders on the roads below. He dashed across the bridge, hoping to Primus that no flyers chose that exact moment to soar by, but his luck held up as usual and he made it across safely to the Archives building.

Unlike its neighbors, Archives was windowless and dim, two features which helped keep down energy costs when the myriad data pads stored inside needed to be kept cool. Optimus gave him the exact level and exact room that he'd find his objective in, and B-127 trusted that a few thousand cycles wouldn't have dulled his processor on the exact location of such a specific item. Optimus never forgot who he was, and B-127 had complete faith in him.

Floor eight, room 122.

“Okay, here we are.” The scout pushed open the door with only a little effort when it didn't open automatically. Inside was what appeared to be a study station, as the room held more desks and display screens than actual data pads.

The handful of data pads that were there were piled up high on the desks among various knick knacks and empty specimen cases. Wait. Were the knick knacks the specimens? Optimus would be appalled by the disorder and poor handling of Archive property, and B-127 decided to leave that part out of his report.

The scout took a seat and rolled up to one of the computers, activating the network and locating the database he was after.

Estimated Time to Download: 1.5 joors

“Damn, how fragging big is this file?” B-127 whistled. He skimmed the rest of the saved archives on that computer and the rest in the room, starting downloads on any information that sounded even remotely useful or interesting. A planet-wide war pretty much stopped any bot from producing new reading material, so all B-127 had to read for the past few hundred cycles has been schematics, battle plans, maps, and the occasional ransom note.

While the data transfer was active, B-127 decided to puruse the safe planet list. Like every other Autobot seeing where the war was going, he was itching to know where he might end up if the conditions on their planet took a nosedive.

=> Safe Planet Database

<Sort: A-Z>

Alderaan*
Earth
Gallifrey*
Krypton
Xandar

That was a good, healthy list!

“Wait just a nanoklik,” he muttered. “What are these notes here?”

*Planet destroyed/No longer hospitable

“Slag.”

That left the Autobots with three options. Not much to work with.

B-127 started at the top of the list, reading the full geological analysis for each planet along with their flora and fauna (what's flora and fauna?) catalogs. The planets were covered in life—organic life! There was so much to learn!

Estimated Time to Download: 2.5 joors

B-127 happily settled in for some quality reading time.

“Optimus, I'm back!”

Ultra Magnus scoffed. “How about you show your superior officer a little respect.”

The scout fought an optic roll and laugh while Ratchet mimed smacking the Commander from behind him.

“Yes, sir,” he articulated. “Reporting in from my mission to Iacon Archives. Mission status: complete. Mission outcome: success. Elapsed time: nine and a half joors. I've downloaded the safe planet database, as well as full geographical analyses of each safe planet, star charts and predetermined routes to those planets, and analyses of the lifeforms currently inhabiting those planets.”

Talking to Ultra Magnus was always a pain in the aft. The bot was such a stickler for regulations and procedures and the chain of command that it was easier to get the boring slag over with first, and even Optimus mentioned that he felt stifled. He would really love it if the Commander retook his post at Crystal City.

“Have you transferred the files to Prowl?”

“I've started it. The files are huge.”

Ultra Magnus nodded. “Good work, soldier. Dismissed.”

“I was actually hoping to talk to Optimus about—”

“I said dismissed!” the Commander barked.

Without bothering to offer a response, the yellow scout turned and left. Damn that bot and damn the military protocols! Was it too much to ask to just talk to his friend and mentor?

“Wait just a moment, B-127,” he heard Optimus call. “Let me walk with you.”

In just a few steps, the big bot caught up and led the way down the hall to the records room where Prowl was surely scouring the files for the information that he needed and not just the abundance of information that he was given. Oops.

“I would like to hear about your trip to Archives. Was the building and its contents well-maintained? By Primus, I will personally offline Starscream if he damaged my work with his reckless, self-centered ploy to gain Megatron’s favor.”

“Don’t get your gears in a twist, Prime,” Prowl deadpanned. He redirected his attention and the poor scout felt instantly nervous under his scrutinization. “Go on. I’d like to know why I’m filtering through catalogs of… native Earth birds? And Xandar’s extraterrestrial population makeup? Why did you download these? They are not what we asked for.”

“I-I thought it might be nice to learn a bit more about these planets before we go to them. The organic life on them is super fascinating and it would have been a shame to go all the way to Archives and not take as much as I could get. The downloads took a few joors, anyway, so I wanted-I thought I could do some reading while I was already there. I did get the actual database, though!”

“Yes, I see.”

“That planet, the one called Xandar, it’s in a galaxy a few million light years away, but their technology and infrastructure are so advanced that they can cover a distance like that in only a few joors! Same with Krypton! Though I think they mostly keep to themselves. Earth is a lot more primitive than the other two, but its organics are still learning. And each has incredible ‘flora’ and ‘fauna’ as well! That means plants and animals. Non-sentient organic life literally grows from the ground! And the sentient organic life around it knows how to use these plants to help them survive somehow! And there are sooooo many types of organics on the planets, and the number keeps rising! And—”

“Okay, B-127,” Optimus chuckled. “I appreciate your quest for knowledge, but right now we have to complete our search for an evacuation point. Which planet do you think would be the most suitable for us to relocate to?”

“Hmm,” he pondered. “Krypton would make a great home society-wise, but some of the studies done on it show that its core is unstable. Could take a couple thousand cycles but it looks like the planet might go kaboom. Xandar would be great if it weren’t so developed already. Truthfully, the planet itself is ideal but there’s nowhere on it for us to go. Earth might be it, then. Actually, yeah! Earth is perfect! Low population density so we have plenty of room and all the open land means that we can live and operate without being in anyone’s way or having anyone get in our way. The readings show really good energon reserves, too. Prowl?”

Prowl skimmed the file on Earth and crossmatched the scout’s data, eventually setting down his personal data pad and confirming the findings. “B-127 is correct. Krypton is too risky and Xandar is too built-up. Earth offers the space we need for a quiet regroup. I concur.”

Optimus smiled. “Then it’s settled. Earth will be our safe planet destination in the event that we must leave Cybertron. Let us hope that day never finds us. Thank you, Prowl.”

With a quick salute, Prowl exited the records room, leaving the two other bots alone. Now, even with Prowl gone, the nervous fear of scrutiny remained. Did he do something wrong? It wasn’t like he was ever ordered not to gather as much information as possible. The downloads were going to take nearly three joors anyway!

“B-127.” Optimus had to call his designation an extra time to shake the scout from his thoughts.

“Uh, yes, sir?”

“Is there something on your processor?”

Yes. “Kinda, yeah.”

Optimus vented a sigh and sat down, motioning for his companion to do the same. Frag, was he going to get demoted?

“You know you can talk to me, B-127. You don’t need to hide anything. I’m here for you.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking recently. Everyone has a super cool designation. You were all forged and raised on the surface and got to have some amount of a normal life before all this scrap happened, and you all have an identity that’s yours. One that is truly you all the way down to code.”

He paused, hesitant to share more, but Optimus stayed silent. “I—It’s—” His vocalizer sputtered briefly, so he reset it and continued. This was fragging nerve-wracking! “While I was reading about Earth fauna, I came across a particular species that reminded me of myself. I-um, I’d like to claim a new designation. One that reflects me and who I am. Who I’ve chosen to be. Not the miner that I was assigned to be in my past life. This designation, this name, will be mine.”

Fans whirred and vents hitched as the scout sat, waiting for what felt like a court sentence or execution. He didn’t have to wait long, though, when Optimus jumped up from his seat and captured him in an overwhelming hug. This was definitely better than a pat on the helm or a high five!

“B-127—No, my apologies. I am beyond happy for you. All these cycles gone by wearing the remnants of the occupation forced upon you, of the punishment for no crime, and you’ve finally selected your own designation! You’ve truly become your own bot and grown up to be one of my most trusted allies and one of my most valued friends. I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you. You’ve come so far. My friend, never stop being yourself.”

Well, now he was crying in front of Optimus Prime. Again. “Thank you. Really,” he blubbered. He felt so light and free. Getting to carve his own identity is the greatest gift he could have asked for, right ahead of having Optimus validate him so fiercely.

The Prime stepped back to hold the scout by the shoulders, and smiled warmly at him. “Now tell me, what is your name?”

“My name is Bumblebee.”

Chapter Text

DESIGNATION: Bumblebee
AGE: 2,517 Cycles
AFFILIATION: Autobot
RANK: Scout
LOCATION: Kaon
MISSION OBJECTIVES: Rescue Elita-1

“BUMBLEBEE, DRIVE!”

Fire rained from the sky and the ground quaked beneath their tires as Arcee and Bumblebee raced toward the fortress that dominated Kaon. All around them, bots dove in and out of cover, launching attack after attack at their enemies, and dodging the multitude of bombs that fell on everyone, be they Autobot or Decepticon. The sky was a dusty gray from the fire and smoke that billowed up from the field and Bee could hardly see two kliks ahead of him.

Arcee zipped and darted around obstacles with a precision that made it look like gravity had no effect on her. Bee was glad to have learned from her. He was fast. One of the fastest. But his agility wasn’t quite at her level, so when she reached the entrance to the prison building, the scout watched her transform and tap her pede impatiently. Show off.

“It’s about time,” she joked. “What was the hold up?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Some explosions, a couple bots throwing themselves at me. I think they were angry, though. Kind of a bummer.”

The two-wheeler rolled her optics. “Well, let’s get inside before anyone notices. The sooner we find Elita-1, the sooner we can ditch this ugly city.”

Bee nodded and followed her lead. He had no interest in loitering around Kaon especially when there was a fight actively going on. Proving himself in battle would be a huge achievement, but right now he had more important things to do.

Elita-1 was a warrior and a diplomat. Intelligent both on the field and off, she was highly valued as an Autobot and as a friend. And that’s exactly how Optimus said it when he relayed the mission to his two scouts. Sure, Optimus, a friend. She got along with every snooty, stick-up-the-aft officer, even Ultra Magnus, but she got along especially well with Optimus and everyone knew it. Everyone except Optimus, it seemed.

The scouts shared a few deep cubes of high grade and a hearty laugh about their poor CO’s predicament before embarking on their mission. He was so genuine, so sincere, so smart, so caring, and so daft. Emotional matters were never his forte, Arcee told him, especially when he was one of the parties involved. But whether he knew the underlying reason why or not, Optimus cared about Elita.

That’s why, when she became a hostage and prisoner during a meeting-turned-blindside, her rescue became a top priority. Bumblebee and Arcee volunteered immediately.

With all the action going on outside, there were no Decepticons to avoid in the hallways aside from the occasional guard. Up and down the halls they searched, looking into every cell possible.

“Scrap! Where is she?” Arcee panicked.

Bee glanced around. “We’ve tried every cell in this place. Unless they have her in another room…”

Arcee snapped her fingers. “That’s it! Let’s find a service terminal.”

“I would have been perfectly happy to find Elita in a torture room. Pits, even Megatron’s private quarters!” Arcee griped. Bumblebee shuddered at the thought. “But on the Nemesis? We can’t come back from this! How are we supposed to get onto a Decepticon warship?”

They crouched low behind the maintenance gantries that led to the ship and watched as ‘Con after ‘Con walked onboard. If Elita-1 was in there, she was in deep trouble.

“These lifts will take us up to the lower levels that house the power systems,” Bee stated. He, unfortunately, had experience being on the ship before and, more fortunately, knew his way around. “If we can blend in with the service bots, we can sneak away once everyone else goes to work. The launch is the most involved operation they have besides landing, so we’ll have some leeway. The brig is tougher. It’s at the aft which means we’ll have to cross the main tunnels that lead from the barracks and the work rooms to the bridge. It’s doable, just tricky.”

Arcee stared at him blankly. “Right,” she drawled. “I forgot you spent some quality time here. Happy to be back?”

“Thrilled.”

“Well,” she ex-vented. “I’m going to make sure that our path is clear. Can you call Optimus and give him our location? I’m sure Magnus is grilling his bumper for a status report.”

Bee groaned. “I forgot that crankshaft was visiting again. Boy, if I were Optimus, I’m not sure I’d be able to hold myself back from giving that gravel-munching, piston-polishing, talking block of metal a swift kick in the kneecap.” Arcee silently raised an optic brow ridge and Bee waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call Prime.”

While Arcee ascended the gantry, Bee prepared his audials for the inevitable burst of static that always followed Blurr’s patched connections.

*Optimus Prime? Bumblebee reporting.*

*Bumblebee, it’s good to hear from you. I’m guessing you made it through the attack on Kaon well enough? Have you located Elita-1?*

*About that… It turns out that Elita-1 was actually transported from Kaon before the attack.*

*Blast. Well that complicates things, doesn’t it? Do you know where she was taken?*

*She’s on the Nemesis. Arcee and I are actually here right now.* Bee couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. If they weren’t already at the warship, Optimus probably would have told them to return to base. Lucky for everyone, Arcee and him were persistent as all get-out.

Optimus sighed, clearly exasperated. *Since you’re already there, I suppose you can continue the mission. But be careful. I wouldn’t want to lose either of you as well.*

*Yes, sir,* Bee responded with a smile that Optimus couldn’t see. Neither Bee nor Arcee said it outright, but they knew that they couldn’t return to base without Elita-1. They wouldn’t.

Soon after he ended the link, Arcee called it clear from the service entrance, and Bee joined her inside the massive engine deck. Power generators lined the walls and emitted a deep rumbling to sound throughout the room while maintenance bots ran around checking each system.

“What’s the hurry?” Bee wondered out loud. “They’re acting like they’re getting ready to—oh no.”

The realization hit both of them at the same time. The ‘Cons were preparing for takeoff.

“Scrap,” Arcee mumbled.

“We need to get Elita and get out. Preferably sooner than later.”

“Agreed. Let’s roll.”

He hated to admit it, but previously getting caught and held on the Nemesis was the best possible thing that could have happened, if only so that he could easily navigate the repetitive hallways and avoid the dead ends on their search for the brig. As expected, the main channel where every path convened was swarming with the hustle and bustle of a crew set to launch. Their timing was horrible.

There were very few gaps between when bots would round a corner there, so the instant that Arcee gave the command to go, they booked it, miraculously ducking back behind the opposing wall just before a vehicon stepped out to the hall.

“Okay,” Bee said once they were well past audial-shot of the main channel. “The brig is two levels down at the aft, port side. There's an airlock exit directly a level up. That'll be our escape.”

“What about the guards? There's no way they've left Elita unattended.”

“Frag, you're right.” Bee rolled over some options in his processor. “We can see how tight the security is once we get closer. I don't think any plan will go how we want it to.”

“Isn't that always how you operate?” Arcee asked with a smirk.

The yellow scout grinned. “Improvisation is my specialty.”

Each tunnel that branched off the path to the aft was identical. Bee did have to pull up his map of the ship every so often to make sure that they didn't miss the ramp up to the brig, but Arcee kept their watch reliably, halting their progress a few times when a foot soldier would cross ahead of them. They moved as quickly as possible, dreading the idea of getting stuck if the ship happened to take off with them on board. That would be a death sentence, and Bee was sure that Optimus would never forgive himself for letting them go.

“This way!” Bumblebee hissed. “We're almost to the aft.”

“It's a good thing you know your way around afts,” she teased. “I wouldn't want to get lost here with anyone else.”

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny, Arcee. For the record, we are not lost, and I am not an aft expert! How can you joke at a time like this?”

“As if you wouldn't have said the same thing? Come on, Bee. Lighten up. This is stressful! I'm just blowing off steam.”

She was right on both accounts. Bumblebee muttered a handful of colorful profanities but kept on trudging down the endless hall until finally, they spotted the gate leading to the prison block. There, to no one's astonishment but to everyone's disappointment, were two vehicons standing guard.

Arcee hastily yanked Bee back by the shoulder before he blew their cover and held up a digit to shush him.

*We need a way to lure them out from the gate. Ideas?* Arcee asked on a private comm.

Bumblebee scrunched up his face and shook his helm. *Not a thing. Without access to their system, I can’t plant decoy signals. Not sure these guys would be cleared to respond to something like that anyway.*

*Decoy, huh?*

With a wink, the two wheeler drew a siren bomb from her subspace and gave it a little toss, letting it fall back into her open servo.

*This’ll do, don’t you think?* she said slyly.

*You always have the best ideas, ‘Cee.*

The two scouts both disabled their audial receptors and stood by as Arcee flung the bomb down the hall from the prison gate, watching with unparalleled glee when the vehicons crumpled to the ground holding their servos up to their helms. One of the ‘Cons nudged the other one in the arm then gestured down the hall toward where the bomb landed, pushing himself upright and stumbling down the corridor. The other one left at the gate temporarily offlined from the noise and laid in a heap exactly where the Autobots needed to go. No matter.

Quickly and silently, as if they needed to muffle themselves with the siren blaring, Arcee and Bumblebee ran to the gate and entered the brig. A long row of cells stretched out in two directions and neither scout could tell from a glance which ones were occupied or not.

“Split up and search?” Bee asked once they reactivated their hearing.

“Split up and search,” Arcee confirmed. “And make it quick. Those soldiers will probably come in after us. Comm as soon as you find her.”

Bee nodded and took off at a jog down the right side cell block, looking into each one and growing more and more worried when none held Elita-1. Frag! Where was she? On Arcee’s side, Bee hoped. Thankfully, his wish came true not a nanoklik later.

*Bee! Bee! I’ve got Elita-1! We need to leave now. Right now! I think I heard the gate open. There’s—AH!*

The line cut out but the scout heard the unmistakable sound of blaster fire coming from behind him. Double frag! He transformed into his alt mode and peeled off, plowing directly into the hoard of vehicons that now plagued the entrance to the brig and sending them flying.

“Get her out of here, NOW!” he shouted, standing back up in root mode and swinging his blasters around to take out any ‘Con he could see. Elita was their mission. Elita was their priority. The cause couldn’t lose Elita-1, and neither could Optimus.

Arcee tried to bark an argument, but the wave of vehicons separated the two scouts and swept Bee further into the brig. He caught a glimpse of Arcee and Elita-1 looking back at him from the gate before a rush of electricity ran through him, frying his circuits and whiting out his vision. He was vaguely aware of a really loud sound screaming through his audials—was that him screaming?—and then… nothing.

Blinking back to consciousness, Bumblebee knew immediately that he was in trouble. The room was dim and uncomfortably cold, though the metal slab he sat on likely didn't help, and his wrists were restrained to the table before him. A futile attempt at kicking indicated a similar predicament for his legs.

His HUD blinked to life and Bee took a few kliks to filter through the updates.

::WARNING: Electrocurrent Overload::

::WARNING: Stabilizers Damaged::

::WARNING: Circulation Pump 2R Damaged::

::Critical Failure: Circuitry Overload::
=> Automatic Offline

::Critical Failure: Processor Function (28 errors found)::
=> External Communicator Inoperable
=> Internal Communicator Inoperable
=> Optic (right) Loss of Focus
=> Stabilizing 1.39° Left

The list went on but Bee dismissed them. Next up was the current date and time which had finally synced and loaded in while he read. Wait. That couldn’t be right. The date displayed was two solar cycles after the date of their mission. Had he really been locked up here for that long?

Okay, don’t panic. He’d been in this predicament before, and he was sure he’d get out of this one too. It’s fine. The last thing he checked was his internal navigation unit which marked his location as… in orbit? The warship must have taken off sometime after his capture. This just kept getting better and better, huh? He just hoped that Arcee and Elita-1 made it off in time to escape. 

Ugh! What kind of scout gets caught on the enemy's warship TWICE? A string of curses left his vocaliser but he quickly silenced himself when he heard the door lock release.

He was prepared to fling insults and expletives at whoever entered, purely out of spite, but shrank in his seat and clamped his intake shut when he saw the hulking sight of Megatron stroll into the room as if he were there to simply grab a cube of energon. Every pedestep fell heavy on the floor and his right servo was held in a fist, impossibly making his enormous cannon appear even more intimidating. The difference in height between Bumblebee and Megatron was already substantial, but from his seated position, Bee felt puny, like the insect he named himself after. Even so, even though he faced the actual leader of the Decepticons, Bee wouldn’t back down. The warlord directed one, bored look at the scout before tsk-ing and stepping closer, which successfully riled Bumblebee up enough to open his stupid mouth.

“I didn't know you were making house calls now, Megatron. I might have rang you up sooner if I did. What happened to your lackeys?”

Was this in the best interest of his health and safety? Probably not. Would Optimus approve of his decision? Also no. But did it feel good to trash-talk Megatron? Frag, yeah.

Megatron sneered. “Save the humor and theatrics, Autobot sparkling, or I’ll shove them up your tailpipe. Your attitude is quite unbefitting that of someone who works for the Elite Guard. Obviously, you aren’t a member, yourself. That would be a stretch, even for their pathetic standards, but the Autobots have really let themselves go, haven’t they? If they’ve allowed a protoform like you to join their ranks.”

He was baiting him. Bee knew it. And yet, he just couldn’t resist.

“This ‘protoform’ answers only to Optimus Prime! And the Autobots are just as strong as ever! You can’t win a war with just brute strength, you know. What we have that you lack is planning and foresight. We have the smarts.”

“Is that why your forces have been steadily retreating?” Megatron taunted with an amused smirk. “Correct me if I’m wrong, that is, if you don’t value your life, but it seems as though I am winning a war with brute strength. Unless there’s something I should know?”

Okay, that was definitely bait. But Bumblebee was determined to keep his knowledge to himself.

“Nothing that you don’t already know,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not a part of the party planning committee, though. I’m more of a frag around and find out sorta mech.”

Megatron seemed to consider his words before tilting his helm down. Another intimidation tactic.

“So, you know what I know,” the warlord mused. “Who are you, exactly?”

Now was time for some fun. Standard protocol dictates that Autobots could only announce their name, rank, and ID when held prisoner. Bumblebee liked to add a little hutzpah.

“Designation: Bumblebee. ID: B-127.” It always started normal. Lure the enemy into a false sense of power and then, “I am an Autobot scout and the best Autobot scout Cybertron has ever seen. Born to a doomed existence as a miner abandoned by the world, I fought for my survival. But when my saviors, the Autobots, arrived, I learned quickly that there was more to life. A whole world of possibilities opened up for me and I decided right then that I would live my life to the fullest and see as much as I could possibly see. Experience everything out there and enjoy the little things. Not that there are many little things with a war on, but it’s the thought that counts. I’ve travelled all over the planet, from Kaon to Tarn to Polyhex to Vos. Really neat places! But I’m really—”

“Cease your incessant yammering!” Megatron snapped.

Color Bee shocked. He never usually got to blabber on for so long. Was Megsy truly that concerned with what information he might have? Bumblebee silently congratulated himself on his excellent work in gaining the warlord’s attention and frustrating him so fully in such a short period. With a servo held to his helm, Megatron finally seemed to process what the scout had said.

Megatron lowered his arm and replaced his annoyance with cold seething. “How and why have you been to those cities? They are under Decepticon occupation and are closely monitored.”

“Not close enough,” Bee countered. “I told you, I’m the best of the best. Not even Soundwave knew what I was doing.”

“You snuck past Soundwave? Impossible.” Megatron was becoming desperate to regain control, to not let the Autobot scout drive this absurd “interrogation,” but his desire to find out more kept winning. Bumblebee was ecstatic.

“Nope. Possible. I even said hi and shook his servo. Ask him yourself, I’m sure he’d remember a bright yellow paint job. Shockwave’s lab was super cool, too. Have you been? Shame about the whole clone army thing, though. But I hope his toxic sludge is still in good condition. Same goes for Starscream’s reading material. Or what’s left of it. I only took the good stuff, promise. I let him keep his nudie data pads. You know he reads PlugIn, right? I’m kinda surprised, to be honest. I always thought he was more of a Nuts & Bolts sorta mech. Oh! I’ve heard some rumors about you two. Have you ever—”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

Ah. There it was. The limit of Megatron’s patience. Which meant that they probably did do it! Haha! This gossip will fly around the base.

“The next time you speak, it had better be to tell me exactly what you’ve stolen from my ship this time, or so help me, I will dismember you!”

Play it safe or be a glitch? What a dumb question. Glitch, easily.

“Pass.”

Bumblebee's head snapped to the side when Megatron’s fist came into contact with his jaw, stunning him into forced silence and causing a processor-melting ringing to sound in his audial receptors.

“Ow,” was all he managed to mutter. Conces, meet quences.

“You’ll regret that day the foolish Autobots pulled you from your hovel, scout,” Megatron spat. “Cracking jokes and making light won’t save you from your demise. In fact, my tolerance has just about run its course. I’ll ask only once more. What did you take from my ship?”

Arcee lesson number who-knows-what: know when to fold. Bee liked to have fun. He loved being able to do a good job and be himself at the same time. He could talk a bot’s audials off but he had to learn over the cycles when it was time to get serious and get to work. Now, he thought, was probably that time.

With a half-sparked glare shot at the warlord, Bee growled and said, “Elita-1.”

Megatron’s expression gave away a fraction of a nanoklik of disbelief, but it quickly turned into plain amusement and he bellowed a laugh at Bee’s expense. “That’s it? You expect me to believe that? That you come onto my warship and get yourself captured only to rescue your Autobot comrade? That you didn’t have any intent on information theft?”

“Correct. I've already gotten everything I need from this ship.” He was playing with fire and he knew it, but he had known from the first time Optimus called him his friend that he would give his life for the cause, for his friends. The way they had.

If Arcee wasn’t captured, that meant that the femmes definitely made it off the ship. Thank Primus.

The warlord seethed, seeming to understand that anything Bee had learned previously had already been saved and sent. “Then your usefulness to me has run out. The next time we meet, scout, I will not be so forgiving.”

Bumblebee blanched. “You-you’re letting me go?”

“Only because killing you would be a waste of my time and energy. Prove yourself a worthy adversary and I may consider offlining you personally. For now, Barricade will escort you out. Mind your backtalk with him, he has a short fuse and is not so benevolent.”

The warlord wasn't lying. Barricade shoved Bee into the lift and down the entire length of the corridor while the scout's wrists were still bound and sent him to the ground when they met an airlock.

“Allow me,” the Decepticon said with a sneer.

“Aren't we still in orbit?” Bumblebee asked timidly.

“No,” Barricade deadpanned. “We've lowered our altitude to match our Seeker escorts.”

Slag. That was still very high up.

“So am I going to get a parachute or…”

Crack! Bee knew as soon as he said it that it was a mistake, but the pede that slammed into his chassis definitely convinced him. It felt strong enough to cave his chest in, or maybe that was his spark slamming against him from the inside.

“No parachute,” he wheezed. “Got it.”

“You receive no warnings from me, and you only live today because my Master has allowed it. The next time I catch you will be the day you die.”

He so badly wanted to snip back, but the fall that he was about to face persuaded him to maybe practice a little bit of self-preservation. Instead, he glared as hard as he could from his position on the floor and held up his arms so Barricade could release his restraints, flexing his hands and stretching his shoulders the moment they were off. Those things were fragging uncomfortable.

Barricade unsealed the airlock and waited for Bee to stand up, only to kick him in the back of the knee and send him unceremoniously tumbling out of the ship without warning.

“AHHHHHHH! FRAG! FRAG! FRAG! FRAG!”

He spun in a circle as he free fell, down, down, down, toward the ground, and his processor ached as he tried and failed to quench the dizziness. He was able to notice nothing below him but the hard surface of the planet, but close by to one side were a whole lot of skyscrapers. If he could go in that direction, he could use them to break his fall. Maybe. But it was better than becoming a grease spot without trying to do anything about it.

As best as he could orient himself with his fragged up vision and stabilization, he fired a few energy shots opposite to the buildings, and successfully altered his crash course. Score! Some more shots later and he could now see the buildings approaching fast below him. Okay, now what?

Once Bee was just above the tallest skyscraper, he fired downward, slowing his momentum and projecting him toward the unfortunate building. Shot by shot, he slowed himself down and ricocheted off the buildings across from each other, gaining the most incremental amount of traction ever. It was enough, though, and Bumblebee landed on the ground with a hard THUD and a very concerning rattle, very much alive.

For kliks, maybe even an entire joor, Bumblebee laid on the ground, in-venting, ex-venting, doing his best to calm his racing spark, and willing away the sickening dizziness he felt. He couldn’t call for help or for a bridge thanks to his system failures, but his T-cog still worked perfectly and his nav system now pinged his location as somewhere northwest of Tarn. That’ll do.

Bumblebee rolled into base utterly exhausted. He was looking forward to a long oil bath and a thorough detailing to clean up the nasty scorch marks that being zapped left him with. He pushed open the door to the commander’s offices and almost fell backward when the room erupted into a flurry of gasps and shouts. The chorus of voices all calling his name overlapped each other and stunned Bee in his tracks.

“Guys?” he murmured.

In an instant, he was hugged, well… more like tackled really, by all of his friends, but he still couldn’t make out what anyone was saying until one voice carried over the rest.

“Bumblebee, you’ve survived,” Optimus choked. He choked. “We feared that you were lost to the Well. We—I was worried. I also told you not to get caught!”

“Sorry ‘bout that, boss.” Frag, his voice was hoarse. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to experience Megatron’s hospitality firsthand.”

Optimus sighed and shooed everyone away after they made their joy for his return known. Only Arcee and Elita-1 stayed behind with him, and smothered him with questions and even more embraces once the others had gone.

“Bee, I’m so happy to see you! We thought you were—” Arcee had to stop herself and reset her vocalizer when it hitched. “We didn’t mean to leave you there, but when we saw the ‘Cons jump you… Bumblebee, I’m so sorry.”

He waved her words off. Of course it hurt, but that was the job. “I told you to go, didn’t I? Our mission was to get Elita-1 home safe, and that’s what you did.”

“But not at the cost of another life,” Optimus interjected. “Bumblebee, you performed valiantly, and I can’t thank you enough for your dedication to Elita-1 or to the Autobots. But I cannot condone your self-sacrificing behavior.”

“It’s not like I was trying to get captured!” he argued. “I just wanted to make sure that Elita made it back. It doesn’t matter anyway because I’m back now, too. Can we drop this? I need to see Ratchet.”

“Bumblebee,” Elita-1 said. “I want to thank you sincerely for saving me. Your bravery and courage are unmatched.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

Elita-1 smiled. “But, I have to agree with Optimus. You took the fall as if your spark is worth less than mine.”

“It is, though.” He said it like a question, but he knew it was true. She was their diplomat and liaison. She was their field warrior. She knew how to fight and to talk, two things that Bee either didn’t do a lot of or did way too much. She was more valuable than him in every way.

“Do not diminish yourself so quickly,” Optimus thundered. “You are every bit as precious to me as Elita-1 and anyone else here, and I cannot allow you to go on thinking otherwise.”

Bumblebee was thoroughly confused. He was just a scout. And still a really young scout, to boot. If it were between him and a high ranking Autobot, which it was, obviously he should be the one to go. Also obviously is that it'd have been great for them both to make it out, but that's not always going to happen. Exhibit A.

So how could Optimus be upset with him for doing his job perfectly? He wasn't mad when Bee failed to save Iacon but he is mad now that he was able to save Elita? It made no sense.

Bee opened his intake to speak but the Prime cut him off. “This matter is closed. Bumblebee…” Optimus trailed off and at last pulled him into a hug, stronger than any that came before. “I couldn’t bear to lose you either. All these years of watching you learn and grow into yourself. You still have an entire lifetime ahead of you. Hold onto it.”

It all clicked into place. His station as a miner and his low rank as an Autobot meant nothing to Optimus. He was cared for regardless of those facts, and he was cared for unconditionally. This time, Bee choked, “Yes, sir. Thank you, Optimus.”

The big bot held his scout for a considerable amount of time, only letting go when Bee started to squirm. He looked up at the towering Prime with big blue optics and smiled, genuinely grateful for everything that he and the cause had given him.

Friends. Family. A reason to live and to fight and to drive and to see the world. B-127 would have never guessed that the future could be so vibrant in every way possible. He would have never known what it meant to truly want something. To push himself to achieve it.

Leaving the mine was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He found a home, and it was filled with people he loved. The most astonishing part was that they loved him back.

Elita-1 stood by while Arcee gave Bee a pat on the shoulder. Then, when what he said earlier finally sunk in, she practically shouted, “What do you mean ‘Megatron’s hospitality?!’”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he grinned sheepishly. “About that.”

Chapter Text

DESIGNATION: Bumblebee
AGE: 2,821 Cycles
AFFILIATION: Autobot
RANK: Scout
LOCATION: Well of All Sparks
MISSION OBJECTIVES: Run interference for Prime team, ensure successful ejection of the All Spark

Bumblebee was notoriously lucky. Time and time again, he’d made it back alive and with a successfully completed mission. He felt that he had far beyond proven himself to be a skillful scout and beneficial ally. His commanders trusted him with vital information and its safe delivery, and they trusted that he could either avoid capture or get himself out of any situation. His little slip-up a few vorns ago on the Nemesis only ended in his favor thanks to Megatron’s surprising lenience, but he still counted it as a win.

This mission was critical. The survival of his race depended on it.

Optimus had some kind of vision or out of frame experience where he was told that the only way to save their kind was to get the All Spark off planet and out of Decepticon reach. It probably was the ‘Cons next move anyway, to take control of the Well and therefore the source of new life on Cybertron. With Shockwave’s clone project shot to the Pit, Megatron needed a new way to breed an army. The Autobots couldn’t let that happen.

The plan was simple. Optimus and his team of Elita-1, Ironhide, Arcee, and Prowl would go straight for the Well and launch the All Spark into space. Only a Prime can do it, and as much as it pained Optimus to make the decision, it had to be done. As for where the All Spark would go, no one knew. But Bumblebee had hope that it would meet them at their next destination. The Wreckers would wide flank the Prime team on one side and Ultra Magnus and his Elite Guard would take the other, preventing any Decepticons from halting Optimus from completing his task. That left Bumblebee and Cliffjumper to be the distractions. They’d travel to the Well with the Prime team, but as soon as Optimus went in, everyone would fan out as if they were simply defending the Well, and the two scouts would lure the ‘Cons away with a very special decoy.

Bumblebee sat on a nearby bench as he watched Wheeljack work. He’d seen a few artistic renderings of the All Spark that Optimus had saved from the Archives ages ago, and this thing that the inventor was crafting was the spitting image. A cube just smaller than Bee’s helm sat on the table, carved with intricate swirls and writings and emanating a faint blue glow from the carvings. It definitely looked like a mystical relic.

“It’s perfect!” Bumblebee exclaimed.

Wheeljack chuckled. “Maybe not perfect, but it’ll definitely do the job. Wave this bad boy around a few times and we’re sure to get the ‘Cons off of OP’s tail.”

“You really think the ‘Cons will fall for it?”

“They'd be more stupid to let it drive off if there's even a chance of it being the real deal. They'll still be fighting for control of the Well, but at least we can probably misdirect some of them. You and Cliff'll have to stick close to defend each other. Your offensive systems can only do so much against these guys.”

“Don't worry about us, Jack,” Bee said. “No one can out-race us.”

The inventor grinned. “I'll hold you to it.”

“Alright, everyone,” Optimus began. The war room was chock full of every important bot to the Autobot cause. Ultra Magnus, his top officers, Prime of course, his officers, and two representatives for the Wreckers. Oh and Bumblebee was there too. “You are all aware of our roles in this mission, but I want to make you aware of a minor modification. Ultra Magnus, while you and the Elite Guard will be nearer to Vos to hold off the air forces, I’d like to have some of your soldiers proceed with the scouts to support their misdirection. We need it to be believable. Other than that, the plan remains the same. Wreckers, you’ll flank our other side and set up a wide defense, and we’ll have a few of you mingled in with the Guard to bolster ground combat. Ideally, the Decepticons will never make it to the Well. All we need is to keep them busy until the launch is complete, but I have faith that we can accomplish this so long as we work together to do our parts. Are we all in agreement?”

“Prime,” Ultra Magnus objected. “I have a few concerns.”

“Here we go,” Ironhide muttered. Bee giggled, and Prowl shot them both a glare.

“First and foremost, I do not see why we must support a charade if we are going to continue to defend the Well. All this will do is thin our troops and put our young and inexperienced soldiers at risk. Not to mention that it then becomes a strain on our resources, what with building the decoy and for whatever inevitable medical care those soldiers will require afterward. I believe that we should amass our troops and put our full efforts into yours and the Well’s defense.”

“Ultra Magnus, do you not have confidence in our ‘young and inexperienced?’” Optimus prodded.

“I do not. Despite their minor successes, we have no evidence that they can withstand being chased and attacked by an unknown number of Decepticons. Your two scouts, Clawjump and B-133, are not equipped to handle what may come.”

“And that is your second concern?”

“It is,” Ultra Magnus affirmed with a nod.

“Allow me to address both concerns, then,” the Prime said proudly. “While I know what my job will be once inside the Well, I am unsure how long it will take to complete the launch. If Megatron and the Seekers all attack our defenses around the Well, sadly I cannot say that we will be able to hold our ground for long. This is why we have a decoy. Megatron cannot and will not ignore what could possibly be the All Spark driving away, nor will he send low-level officers to retrieve it. We can redirect some of his more powerful fighters away from the Well, granting us enough time to secure the All Spark.”

“I still don’t understand how you can entrust such an assignment to those scouts.”

“Easily, as a matter of fact. Although their weapon systems may be more for emergency situations, my scouts, Cliffjumper and Bumblebee,” Optimus emphasized, “are some of the fastest drivers Cybertron has to offer. They are both quite nimble and resourceful, and I have no doubt that they can withstand a grand chase. Additionally, if you must know, Bumblebee is the reason that Elita-1 is here with us today, and you may thank him for saving your life during the Seeker siege of Iacon. He is invaluable to us.”

Bee felt an enormous surge of pride at Optimus’ words. He’d practically needed them drilled into his processor in the past, but hearing them now and knowing that Optimus truly meant every single one meant the absolute world to him. A smug grin grew on his faceplate and he flicked his optics over to Ultra Magnus in time to see the Commander blanche and attempt to grumble out a forced apology.

“I believe that will be all. Autobots, we roll out in two days at 0700 joors. Together, we will ensure our success!”

“Are you ready, Bee?”

Let's see. While Optimus fiddled around in the Well of All Sparks, Bumblebee and Cliffjumper would be driving for their lives with a dummy All Spark and praying to Primus that the Decepticons both take the bait and not shoot them on sight. All this to make sure that their species and home have a future. Nothing to be nervous about.

“Totally,” Bumblebee muttered sarcastically.

“Wow, I can sense your confidence from over here,” Cliffjumper teased. “What happened to all that bravado I know you were full of earlier? Wheeljack said that you were bursting with excitement for this job. What changed?”

What changed was that Bumblebee had time to think about this job. Never before had he gotten numerous solar cycles to think about and anticipate his mission—always when he received his orders, he moved out immediately. No time to think about the danger when he rushed right in. No time to worry about what could go wrong, either, when he made it all up on the spot. Planning was definitely not his forte.

“Nothing is going to happen, Bee. We're the best of the best and Optimus has us on this assignment for a reason. Even if Megatron himself comes after us, we won’t give in!”

The yellow scout shuddered. If Megatron came after them, they may not have a choice.

“You're right,” he relented with a vent. Bee couldn’t afford to doubt himself now. As if he had any reason to! He’d never failed a mission and he sure wasn’t about to start now. “We're fast. We're smart. And old buckethead won't even be able to lay a digit on us. We've got this!”

Cliffjumper whistled. “You should start charging for pep talks. Talk like that makes me feel like I could save a whole city or escape an interrogation from Megatron.”

*Attention, Autobots. All units mobilize and prepare for dispatch,* Optimus’ voice came crackling through the commlink.

Bee sighed and set down his drink, one final cube before going into the field, and stood, holding out a servo and waiting for Cliff to do the same. With one more big gulp, the red scout downed his energon and took his friend's reach, leading their walk to the dispatch hangar.

“Actually, I didn't escape the interrogation,” Bee protested. “He let me go after realizing that I didn’t know anything useful. I’m kinda surprised, too, since I talked his audial off and pried into his thing with Starscream. All he did was smack me around a little.”

“And that is incredible! You walked, er, fell out of the Nemesis and lived. Somehow…” Cliffjumper muffled a chuckle.

“What’s so funny about it?”

“Your axles were-they were so bent!” He barked a laugh and paused in the middle of the hall to brace himself against a wall. “When you transformed you could only drive in circles!”

Bumblebee rolled his optics but smiled anyway. “That was so embarrassing. Ratchet didn’t let me hear the end of it for antagonizing the ‘Cons for, like, five solar cycles!”

“And for good reason. You’re crazy, you know that? I don’t think there’s another bot on the planet that would talk scrap to Megatron’s face. Do you not feel fear or something?”

“I’ll go with ‘or something.’ Really it’s more that it’s fun. I mean, how many opportunities do you really get to blab at the leader of the Decepticons about frag all? If there’s nothing for me to gain and nothing for me to lose, I might as well have some fun and rile them up a bit. Ruffle their feathers, ya know?”

“I don’t know. What’s a feather?”

“It’s an Earth saying, Cliff.”

“Figures. Anyway, you do have something to lose, and that’s your life. Remember what Optimus said?”

How could he forget? Optimus basically told him that his life was worth as much to him as Elita-1’s. Now that was crazy.

“Yeah, I remember. It’s just tough to accept.”

Cliffjumper put a servo on his shoulder. “I know, Bee. But it’s true. Big bot cares about you. I mean, the way he talks about you to the other oldies makes it sound like he adopted you!”

Full stop.

“Really?” Bee asked. Cliff nodded.

Bumblebee never knew anything of family personally, but he did know that whole families weren’t incredibly common on Cybertron. Bots would form bonds and conjunxes, sure, but adopting a newforge was rare with the dwindling resources on the surface. Mostly, the newforges were sent to boarding facilities for education and assignment. He never even had that luxury.

Thrown directly into a pit with no guidance, processor force-installed with basic knowledge of language and geography, and handed a cart full of mining supplies, B-127 had a rude welcome to the world.

Optimus Prime had been a role model and inspiration to Bee the day Jazz and Sideswipe rescued him from the mine, and his admiration only grew the more that the scout got to see his leader in action. He was courageous, intelligent, patient, kind, and strong—things that Bumblebee always dreamed to be. He knew that he’d made Optimus proud before. He also knew that he’d never stop chasing that feeling he’d get when Optimus would tell him that he did a good job. Everything he did was for him.

The hangar was a flurry of movement and a cacophony of voices, all shouting directions and barking orders. Ironhide was wrapping up outfitting the femmes with ammunition while Prowl did his best to quell Red Alert’s concerns. The way he waved his arms around wildly across the room brought a smile to the scout’s face, and Bee elbowed his friend in the side to direct his attention at the show. Ultra Magnus had to join his troops a few buildings away soon, but he and Optimus stood to the side, talking. Probably finalizing plans. Or shutting down whatever asinine idea that the Commander suddenly had.

As soon as Optimus caught sight of the vibrant colors of his scouts, Optimus gave Ultra Magnus a quick salute before joining his team.

“Ironhide, Arcee, Elita-1, Cliffjumper, Bumblebee,” Optimus said. He paused and waited for the last bot to join. “... Prowl. Is Red Alert alright?”

“He’ll be fine,” the officer replied tersely.

Another pause, then Optimus cleared his intake. “Very well. I have chosen all of you for this assignment because you are my most skilled, my most reliable, and my most trusted. What we are doing is dangerous and risky, and I cannot begin to guess how our strategy will play out. I am positive, however, that with your help, we can succeed. I have great faith in you all, my friends, and I am glad to have your trust in return.”

A collective hush fell over the small assembly. Bee knew that everyone was thinking the same exact thing. We trust you, Optimus. Fully and fiercely.

A clang rang out when Ironhide smacked Optimus’ pauldron. “No need to get sappy, pal. We’re with you all the way! Let’s get cracking!”

The sun had just risen when the Prime team began their journey. The Elite Guard had already departed and the Wreckers were set to leave soon after Optimus’ team.

The first joor of the trip was spent in almost total silence, besides a few jokes cracked by Ironhide or Cliffjumper at random times, always followed by a “Hush!” from Prowl. Bumblebee was beyond bored. Every time he tried to hum a tune, he'd be shushed immediately. But this drive was excruciating! He needed something to think about or something to do.

So, he began driving circles around everyone. Literally.

“Bumblebee, will you please return to formation?” Prowl grumbled.

Ironhide and Cliff both snickered, and Bee was ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent positive that Arcee did too.

“I caaaaan't,” the scout whined. “I feel like my processor was about to melt. Or I'd slip into recharge and ram into ‘Hide's aft. He sure does give me a big enough target.”

“So you are an aft expert?” Arcee joined in.

“No! I told you, no! But look at this guy. You can't miss it.”

“My— You— BAHAHAHA” Ironhide attempted to rebutt the accusation but couldn't hold back his laughter anytime he tried to speak. He laughed so hard that he swerved right, almost crashing into Cliffjumper, and forced the younger bot to also jerk sideways to avoid the hit.

“Hey! Watch it!” the red scout shouted, also bursting from laughing.

“Sorry, Cliff,” Ironhide wheezed. “I couldn't see you there behind my enormous trunk.”

Elita-1 finally let loose, unable to hold back any longer. “You guys—HAHAHA—You guys are wild!”

“Please don't encourage them,” Prowl begged.

Optimus chuckled. “It’s been a long trip. They just need to blow off some steam. Surely you can understand that?”

“Yeah, Prowl!” Bee chimed in, taking a short break from showing off his superior driving ability. “I’ll even sing one of your favorite songs, okay?”

“I thought it was my turn next?” Ironhide whispered to Cliffjumper.

“Hate to break it to you, but you’ve got really bad taste in tunes.”

Prowl huffed, ignoring the other two trouble-makers. “I don’t need you ruining any of my favorite songs for me, but thank you for the offer. Since I know that nothing short of deactivation will get you to shut your trap, I’ll ask that you direct your caterwauling away from my direction.”

“But I can still sing, right?”

“... Yes, Bumblebee. You can still sing.”

“Alright!”

It only took one more joor to reach the Well, by which time everyone else in the group joined in the karaoke, except for Prowl of course. As much as Bee loved to drive, multiple hours spent in his alt mode did make for some slight cramping, so the nanoklik that Optimus gave the clear, he sprung up and substituted driving laps around the others with running laps around the others.

“Whoa there, Bee! Save some of that energy for your getaway!”

Slag, he almost forgot. He had even more driving to do today.

“Ugh, yeah,” he groaned. “Sorry, ‘Hide.”

“Can I have your attention, please?” Optimus spoke up. The bots all fell into a hush as they listened to their leader with rapt attention. The pressure was on. “It is likely that we are being monitored at this very moment, so we will have to act quickly. I have just been informed that our allies are already in their positions and that they have visuals on some Decepticon forces nearby. No one has moved yet, so it seems that they want to see what we do first. Unless we proceed, we are at a standstill. Does anyone have any final words or objections before we begin?”

“Prime.” Ironhide said as he readied his weapons. “What we do is for our planet. What I do is for you. Whatever happens out there, I’m proud to have followed you all the way to this point.”

“Couldn’t have said it better, myself,” Arcee concurred. Everyone else nodded their helms, and Elita-1 went to put a servo on his shoulder.

“Optimus, I’ve never had more faith in anyone than I have in you. You represent all that was good, all that is good, on Cybertron, and no one is so worthy of the Matrix as you are. I know we’re going to succeed because we have you guiding us. And I know that you will succeed because we have your back no matter what.”

The tall mech shuttered his optics a few times. “I meant words in relation to the mission? I appreciate the praise but—”

“Oh, just take the darned compliment!” Arcee said.

Optimus smiled and looked around once more. “Anyone else?”

Cliff shook his helm and Prowl gave a sideways glance at Bee before asking, “Nothing from you? Really?”

There was so much he could say. Maybe something about how he’d always looked up to Optimus as a role model. Maybe something about how role model became mentor. Maybe something about how he’d always thought that mentor might verge into parental figure. Optimus was everything to him, a shining ray of hope and kindness that knew no bounds. Bee felt so… so loved. If Optimus allowed him to follow him into the Well, he would do it in a sparkbeat.

Optimus deserved to hear it, but not like this. Not as “final words” before going into battle. They would be a gift for their victory. Something to rejoice over when it was all over. Then, he could let his feelings show.

Bumblebee shrugged. “It’s all been said. And anyway, I want to save what I have to say for after we win. It’ll be something to look forward to, eh Prowlie?”

Prowl rolled his optics and Optimus laughed good-naturedly. “Well then, Autobots, friends,” the Prime said. “We make our stand here. I wish you all the best.”

Together, the Prime team raised their arms in a salute, which their leader returned with a smile, and watched on while Optimus Prime turned around and dove into the Well of All Sparks.

The air seemed to still, and silence fell over the land, as if the entire planet was holding an in-vent, waiting to find out what came next. No one moved, until a distant cry rallied the Decepticon forces and distant explosions could be heard across the field. The whistle of jets and the rumbling of tracks grew louder and louder as their forces began to collide with the Autobots.

Bumblebee was antsy. If the enemy got too close too fast, he’d have no chance of completing his task. He could tell that Arcee and Cliff were feeling much the same, judging by her bouncing pede and Cliff’s twiddling digits. The ground shook thanks to a bomb dropped too close, and finally, a glowing blue cube rose from the Well.

“There it is!” Bee shouted over the noise of war, and even a little bit louder than he would usually need. “The All Spark!”

Elita-1 launched Arcee into a beautiful spinning kick, who flawlessly redirected the cube’s trajectory midair to gun straight for Cliffjumper.

“Got it!” he called, leaping up to catch it and rolling into his alt mode with the cube stored safely inside. “Boy, this thing is hefty.”

“No time for an analysis of the thing, Cliff,” Elita-1 commanded. “You need to move! Go! Go! Go!”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Cliff took off at full speed and Bee joined suit right after. They were headed northeast and some of the Elite Guard would be catching up to them soon, or following as close behind as possible. Cliffjumper and Bumblebee matched each other’s speed and slowed only briefly when they passed Ultra Magnus, using their brake lights as their signal to roll out, but picked up the pace quickly when they heard Megatron’s voice boom over the battlefield.

“Catch those two Autobots! Do not let the All Spark escape!”

The pressure was really on. It was either the ringing in his audials or Cliff’s screaming getting increasingly louder, but the volume out on the field seemed to rise tenfold with the rev of their engines. Over the field and out of sight from the Well, the scouts didn’t let up. That was the easy part.

The fliers were still being held back by the Elite Guard, and the only grounders that made it past them were put down with haste by the scouts’ flank. But Bee knew that it would only last for so long. No amount of ground power could fully stop a Seeker. Especially not those ones with the slagging outlier abilities.

“Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag!” Bee was vaguely aware that he was cursing. He was more focused on not blowing up when the sky flashed purple and bombs rained down in front of him without warning.

Dodge. Skid. Left. Right. Jump. Accelerate. Decelerate. It was an obstacle course and the price for losing was death.

*We can’t outpace these guys, Bee!* Cliffjumped comm’ed over.

*I know. We just need to buy some more time. Head toward Tyger Pax! We can lose the fliers there.*

The city, close enough by to speed to, would be able to offer the scouts cover that the wide open landscape around the Well could not. It was the best option they had if they wanted to avoid being blasted to bits. The next challenge was actually getting there.

In tandem, the two scouts swerved and maneuvered their way around every bomb and every falling piece of debris. The guards behind them continued to fire at the Seekers that now hovered above them, but one particularly well-timed drop with a well-timed sonic boom sent the grounders flying backward. Bumblebee had to transform to catch his balance and watched as Cliffjumper flipped in the air and tossed the All Spark to Bee using his momentum.

“Time for a trade!” he yelled.

With a grunt, Bee caught the thing (heavy!) and rolled back into his alt mode with ease. He took off once again, racing along the ground and sparing no time to wait for Cliffjumper.

*Unfair,* the red scout said. *You got a head start on that one.*

*Better luck next time, Cliff!*

He could hardly even think well enough to keep up the chatter. Usually, some nice banter would keep the stress low, but Bumblebee knew that neither bot was able or willing to distract themselves like that. The scouts kept driving faster than they’d ever driven before and darting around every explosion that touched down.

Optimus wasn’t kidding about Megsy sending his best after what he assumed was the All Spark. With the Elite Trine on their tails, and specifically, literally, gunning for them, their chances of surviving were dwindling. Come on, Optimus. He needed to get that thing off planet, pronto.

The sky became a swirl of fire and smoke, all rising up in a vortex caused by the multitude of jets and choppers flying through the air. The gray clouds blotted out the sun and the beautiful, blue sky, and rained ash down to the ground which coated everything in sight with a fine film of dust. It became so bleak. But the soft glow of the dummy All Spark that sat safe inside Bee’s chassis was all the motivation he needed. Ensuring the success of this mission meant ensuring a future with his friends.

Bumblebee was tired. He could tell that Cliffjumper was as well, judging by his slowly decreasing speed. His tires were burning and his engine felt similarly on fire. His fans could hardly keep up with the demand, and his processor ached with the decibel of volume input that surrounded him.

Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to worry about that for long. Optimus would launch the All Spark and then they would all—

BOOM!

The sound was deafening and the flash blinding when a bomb dropped directly behind Bee. The force of the explosion rocketed the yellow scout off his wheels and into an out-of-control tumble. His gyroscope spun as he rolled, trying and failing to correct itself, and when he landed ungracefully on his wheels once more, he noticed immediately the ring of Seekers surrounding him. Only him. A speck of red behind the Decepticons darted by, but Bumblebee couldn’t allow Cliff to get caught up in this, too. Bee had the cube and the ‘Cons had Bee. That was all they wanted.

*Get out of here!* he tried to comm his friend.

No response. Another attempt, another fail.

The Seekers were moving in.

“Cliffjumper, leave me!” he decided to try his external comm unit. No privacy but—

“Bee, you know I can’t do that.” It worked! It came through on his speakers, but it worked!

“They’ve got what they want. Don’t put yourself at risk for no reason.”

“But-but you’re the reason!”

Starscream stepped on Bee’s hood, pressing him into the ground and fully preventing him from escaping.

“No use,” his voice cracked. “Go.”

“Bee, you fragging idiot,” he heard Cliff mutter before the sound of tires squealing took over the line. Then, radio silence.

“I believe you have something I’m interested in,” the Air Commander sneered down to the yellow scout. “Will you be a good little bot and come without a struggle, or do I need to have Skywarp drop you right into Megatron’s lap?”

“I’d personally prefer a standard transport. Is Astrotrain perhaps available?”

The Seeker’s pede pressed down heavier and ignited a new wave of errors and warnings, reminding Bee that he would have some reading material for his trip to see Megatron, however he got there.

“Your insolence will not be tolerated!” Starscream barked. “I demand you transform into root mode immediately!”

“No can do, Screamer, unless you get your slagging pede off me first.”

Starscream growled and readied his null ray, but Thundercracker put a servo on his leader’s shoulder while Skywarp laughed away behind them. The message was silent but clear. Megatron needs the All Spark whole and this Autobot alive. Who knew what for? Bee could only hope that it was for a surrender party.

The weight of the Seeker’s pede lifted and Bee promptly transformed to his root, carrying the cube still safely within his chest. He attempted to lift his arm and ready a stinger but even more warnings came up when nothing happened. Frag.

“Start walking,” Thundercracker ordered.

Bee complied but found himself murmuring anyway, “We’re going to walk the whole way there? This’ll take forever.”

“Obviously we aren’t walking the whole way there,” the blue jet supplied. Starscream rolled his optics and Thundercracker continued. “Funny that you said it, but Astrotrain is on his way for pickup.”

The scout stifled a laugh. Skywarp did not. “Good guess, yellow! No wonder Prime has you running his errands. Hey, can I see the All Spark?”

“No one can see the All Spark until Megatron has!” Starscream snapped. “Only he can see its true potential. Oh, look. Your transport is here.”

Sure enough, Astrotrain descended from the sky and opened his payload, which Thundercracker tossed Bee into with only mild carelessness. Great, now came time to sort through the errors and see what could be fixed.

::WARNING: Internal Misalignment::
=> Initiate Self-Repair? (Y/N)

::WARNING: Pede (left) Fuel Lines Damaged::

::WARNING: Pede (right) Fuel Lines Damaged::

::Critical Failure: Weapons Systems::
=> Blasters Deactivated
=> Stingers Deactivated

::Critical Failure: Processor Function (1 error found)::
=> Internal Communicator Inoperable

Well, that’s not too bad. It just meant that his walking time was limited and that he had NO SLAGGING WEAPONS. FRAG! He confirmed the self-repair activation for his internal systems, if just so he wouldn’t be so uncomfortable, and lamented the loss of his weapons. He was already basically defenseless, but now, he was realizing just how not built for the field he was.

The trip was dark, short, and surprisingly smooth. His ejection from Astrotrain’s payload was less so. Bumblebee fell to the ground on his knees, legs already weak from the lack of fuel circulation, and looked up to see Megatron standing before him.

They were in Tyger Pax, conveniently, on the roof of a building that overlooked the field where the Well sat. Down on the ground, Bee could make out the Autobot armies continuing to hold the Decepticons back. The Well was still safe. Optimus was still safe. They were so close to ending this.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Autobot’s most irritating scout,” the warlord crooned. “I do hope you have what I’m looking for this time. I recall letting you live as a very generous gift and promising a glorious death upon meeting again. Have you come to fulfill this? Or are you simply stupid?”

“I do have something, actually,” Bee responded. “You can tell me if it’s what you’re looking for, though.”

The scout opened his chest enough to remove the glowing cube, extracting it with the delicacy of a surgeon. Ratchet would be so proud. The Decepticons became a chorus of “Oohs” and “Ahhs,” and Bumblebee held it up proudly for Megatron to see. Optimus had better be finishing up.

Megatron plucked the cube from Bee’s outstretched servos and examined it closely.

“Yes, the All Spark emanates with energy of our species. The glow of energon. The markings indicative of… wait.” The warlord turned the cube over in his grip and over again. “What is that sound? The All Spark is an artifact of pure energy and life. It is not a simple mechanism. So why does it sound like—”

Primus must have heard Bee’s wish, for the sky, formerly shrouded with haze, cleared when a brilliant beacon shot up and dissolved every cloud. The beacon was bright and blue and sending off wave after wave of energy. And it was shining directly out of the Well of All Sparks. The cube, the real All Spark, rose up from the Well and blasted off at an incredible speed, up and away from Cybertron, and out of reach of the Decepticons. It exited the atmosphere with such a powerful blast that every bot who bore witness to the exodus of the All Spark couldn’t help but stumble. It demanded reverence. It demanded to be seen and to be felt. And now everyone knew that the All Spark was gone, lost to the stars. Endless galaxies and universes existed and the chance of finding it among them just about amounted to zero.

Megatron was not happy.

With his optics still locked onto where the All Spark left Cybertron, he crushed the decoy in his servo with no effort at all. The crunch it made caused Bee to feel a little sick. But the job was done and now he could gloat. Will he ever learn? Nah. Truthfully, this was the end of the line and he knew it. Megatron wouldn’t let him walk away twice, so he might as well go out with a bang.

“What’s wrong, Megsy?” he preened, pushing himself to his pedes and doing his best to keep balance. “Your plan not go how you wanted it to? Gotta admit, though, it was a darn good recreation of the All Spark. Fooled everyone, didn’t it?”

Starscream stepped forward with his null ray raised, but Megatron held him back by the shoulder. “Let him continue,” he told his second in command. “I’m curious what he wants his last words to be.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of those. I can even sing you a song if you like. I’ve learned plenty now.”

“Since leaving the mine you lived in?”

“Aww, you do remember! I’ve got some last word options I’d like to run by you. Give me a rating out of five stars for each, please. Ahem. You may take our lives, but you’ll never take our freedom! Or how about this. Eat scrap! Yeah, that one’s a personal favorite of mine. Or— HURK!”

Bee was suddenly lifted off the ground, pedes dangling uselessly in the air, held up by his neck which Megatron had a very good grip on. He grasped onto the warlord’s massive servo in an attempt to pry himself free, to no avail. There was no way out of this.

“I’ve heard enough from you. What a pathetic life you’ve lived. Nothing but an errand boy for the Autobots, and you give your life for them so willingly. You have wasted my time and resources chasing down your pitiful excuse for an All Spark construction, and now you have cost me my rightfully deserved victory. We will be sure to tell every Decepticon that the reason why our planet died today is because of your arrogance and selfishness. We could have built a new Cybertron under my rule! Instead, you send our lifeforce away, dooming our kind and dooming our planet to wither. You have been a thorn in my side and a shadow in my peripheral that must be removed once and for all. Pathetic scout, what a waste of a life.”

A sharp digit scraped across Bee’s chestplate and stopped over where his spark chamber resided. Tap, tap. Megatron was not going to make this quick. At least Bee finally earned that death by his servo, huh?

“Bumblebee, come in. Report your status!” Optimus’ voice roared through Bee’s broken comm. Great, now Megatron and his thugs could all listen in. “Bumblebee, report!” he repeated.

“Ah, so your communicator is malfunctioning, is it? Please, answer the call. I’d like to have a word with Optimus.”

The scout frowned and shook his head as much as Megatron’s metal grip would allow. “No,” he croaked.

“Here you are, about to die, and still refusing to do the sane thing, which is to obey me. Answer the call,” Megatron ordered again.

“Never.”

“If it’s not your own life that you wish to protect, perhaps it is one of your comrades? The red bot you traveled with, he is your friend, correct? He is on his way back to your valiant leader right now. Skywarp?”

“Yeah, boss?”

Bee’s optics widened.

Megatron continued. “Retrieve the red scout and bring him here. Unless you feel inclined to dismantle him right away, of course.”

“On it, boss.”

“Wait!” Bee called before the purple Seeker could depart. “Wait.”

“Bumblebee, report in with your status and location. We will come for you,” Optimus pleaded through the link.

Skywarp let out a “tch” and Bumblebee ex-vented painfully.

“Wise choice, little scout,” Megatron said. As soon as the click of the active comm could be heard, Megatron leaned in close to Bee’s helm, still holding him tight by the throat, and spoke directly to the Autobot leader. “Optimus Prime, what a delight.”

“Megatron, what have you done with Bumblebee?” His Prime’s first thought was for his well-being. Always, it was for Bee’s well-being. He cared so much.

“He’s alive and well with me here, aren’t you, scout?”

Bee managed a strangled whine.

“Optimus, I wanted to take this opportunity to chat with you as civilized Cybertronians. Of course, there will be no more Cybertronians now that you’ve sent our source of life to the far reaches of the universe, but that is neither here, nor there. Mostly, it is not here. And I understand that I have your most beloved scout here with me, and that he is the reason why I have been so viciously deceived. You really should take better care of your things, Optimus. I’d expect more from you.”

“Megatron, if you hurt him, I swear I’ll—”

“What? You’ll what? From what I can tell, none of your forces are close enough to reach me. Even if they could, I’m surrounded by my strongest warriors. You are powerless in my wrath. Your puny scout will feel the effects of my vengeance as it should be bestowed upon you, so that when you come to collect his body, you can live the rest of your life knowing that this sparkling you’ve adopted suffered all the pain intended for you.”

“Megatron, please.”

“We are located in Tyger Pax at the top of the hospital. Quite fitting, ironically. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

Optimus tried to speak once more but whatever he said got lost in the static when Megatron pinched the wiring that supplied Bee's communication system.

“His problem is that he feels too much, don’t you agree?” He directed his question to Bee.

“I-I think,” Bee responded, “I think that it’s just the right amount. He feels enough for all of us. Unlike you.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed and Bee felt a tremor run through him. Nothing outwardly changed, but his senses all screamed “Danger!”

“Perhaps death still is too kind a punishment for you. For infiltrating my ranks, for stealing my information, for sabotaging my plans, for misleading me so blatantly, you must now both be punished and serve as a punishment for your dear Optimus Prime. He could forget you if you were to die. But if you were to live as a constant reminder of his failure… That, he could never forget.”

“Optimus is greater and st-stronger than you’ll ever imagine! H-he's too smart to let one bot's death affect him like that.”

“And you are more grating than you’ll ever imagine. You are the Autobot’s pride and joy, yes? The cheerful little ball of happiness that spreads good-will wherever he goes? Sings and brags and encourages his friends cycle after cycle?”

Bumblebee kept his stare hard and unwavering. He scowled at the warlord, but refused to justify his claims.

“It does seem so,” Megatron mused. “I believe I have a remedy for this.”

Was he not going to die? What was Megatron thinking? His legs were unresponsive now. His servos were weak against Megatron’s. No one could save him from whatever was going to happen. Out with a bang.

“F-frag yours-self,” Bee stuttered.

“Remarkable speech, sparkling.” The warlord’s grin grew wide and menacing, and the pressure on Bumblebee’s throat increased exponentially.

His vision blinked in and out and his vocoder began emitting blips of static and beeps, until finally, and with an enormous burst of pain flashing through his receptors, Bee fell crashing to the ground and received his newest error messages.

::WARNING: Voice Box Damaged::

::WARNING: Voice Box Offline::

::Critical Failure: Voice Box::
=> Voice Box Removed
=> Voice Box Housing Beyond Repair
=> Voice Box Beyond Repair

It hurt. It hurt so bad. His processor screamed of nothing else, filling the silence in his mind that his voice could not.

Firey and raw, like an exposed nerve meeting a live wire. It burned and it scorched and it felt like someone had drilled a hole into his throat. He supposed that’s what it looked like, too. The sensation consumed him so fully that he couldn't even focus enough to deactivate his pain receptors, and it was getting to be too much to bear. His optics were wide open but his vision swam and flickered, and if he weren’t in so much shock, he was sure he’d have been writhing.

“And now,” Megatron gloated over Bumblebee's crumpled form. “We still have time for some fun before your leader arrives, and as much as I would like to extend my greeting to him, your interference has now set me back. Are you satisfied? Proud of yourself for what you’ve done?”

Bee wanted to sputter out an insult, or a sign of indignation, but he knew it wouldn’t work. He tried anyway, and all that left his intake was a series of strangled gurgles and harsh static, and it burned. His throat burned raw and exposed where Megatron ripped out his vocaliser, and every attempt to make even the tiniest sound brought forth an entire world of pain.

The warlord laughed darkly and Bee retorted with nothing but a weak glare, until he was lifted up once again. But this time, his return to the ground wasn't a free fall. Megatron slammed him down into the building with enough force to both crack the rooftop they were on and to bend Bee’s spinal strut in a way that it was most certainly not meant to bend. His helm felt the impact as well, and when his optics went dark for the umpteenth time, he could still see the notifications on his HUD.

::WARNING: Spinal Strut Fractured::

::Critical Failure: Health System::
=> Self-Repair Unavailable

::WARNING: Paralysis Detected::

::Critical Failure: Appendages::
=> Arm (left) Command Delay
=> Arm (left) Nerve Damage
=> Leg (left) Paralyzed
=> Leg (right) Paralyzed

::Critical Failure: Processor Function (1 error found)::
=> Optic Color Receptors Inoperable

His left arm hurt to the Pit. He couldn’t feel his legs. His chassis ached. His helm was pounding. His spinal strut felt like it had been excavated, disassembled, reassembled, and shoved back in wrong. His optics onlined one more time for a brief moment, and everything was gray.

::Critical Failure: Inadequate Support For Damage Sustained::
=> Automatic Offline

The first sensation that came back was pain. All-encompassing, excruciating pain. The second, when his senses reactivated one by one, was the sound of voices.

Optimus and Ratchet.

A choked sob rose up in his pipes, but what escaped was more like frazzled garbling. At least that wasn't causing any pain, now. The source of most of the pain was from his spinal strut and lower legs, and a quick check of his manual system updates confirmed that the doctor had fixed up his fuel lines and reestablished nerve connection. He wasn't permanently paralyzed, but by Primus it hurt like the Pit.

Bee’s sudden burst of sound drew the attention of the two Autobots, and at once they ran to his side. Ratchet took up going over his latest updates and checking every line, connector, and wire that Bumblebee had while Optimus took the scout’s servo in between his two and spewed a jumble of apologies and lamentations, all overlapping and blending together.

It was too much to take in. Between the pain flaring up from every touch and movement of his body and every word spoken feeling like a screech piercing into his audials, Bee almost wished that he were still offline. How long had it been? His gyro and info data systems were still refreshing. Must’ve been one nasty hit to the helm.

Optimus hadn’t yet stopped blubbering and Ratchet was still prodding at his limbs, so Bee tried asking that they quiet down. Obviously that didn’t work. So he tried squeezing Optimus’ servo in hopes that he’d get the message. He didn’t. So he tried using his internal comm. Still broken.

FRAG!

He couldn’t communicate. Here he was, surrounded by those he wanted to reassure most, and he had no way of communicating anything. Period. Alive, yes. Safe, yes. Free from Megatron’s vice-like grip, yes. But he was trapped. He could have a million things to say (he did), and a million different ways to say them (“I’m sorry”, “It’s not your fault”, “I love you”), but every thought was now a prisoner in his mind.

One more squeeze of the Prime’s servo got his attention, and Bee mouthed the words, “Quiet, please.” Optimus understood immediately and relayed the message to Ratchet, who in turn silenced all of the numerous monitors and devices attached to Bumblebee’s broken body.

“Bumblebee,” Optimus spoke softly. His voice was clear and firm, but notably gentle. “I’m-I am… Please forgive me.”

It wasn’t a simple request. It could have been mistaken for one, sure, if the person were only able to hear the words said, but Bee could hear what it was through the emotional mask that Optimus forced upon himself. It was a plea. A cry. And that broke the scout’s spark all over again.

The scout couldn’t answer, and it took Optimus an extra moment to realize this before ex-venting and continuing the one-sided conversation.

“No apology will never be enough. I cannot say ‘I am sorry’ in any way that will ever make this better. Bumblebee, you’ve given everything for the cause. I was expecting to find your lifeless body up there on that rooftop, and instead, finding you alive, just barely clinging onto life after what Megatron did to you, was the greatest gift that I could have ever imagined. I’m sorry for what has happened to you. I’m sorry for forcing you into this job. I’m sorry for forcing you into becoming another soldier in a war instead of allowing you to grow up carefree. You deserved better.

“It’s cruel, and it was on purpose, wasn’t it? For me to find you in this state, suffering but alive, rather than battered and broken but free from the pains of life. This wasn’t the life you should have lived. I made you do this, and I will never be able to repay you for your bravery and sacrifice. What you’ve done for the Autobots is monumental, and I sincerely hope that someday I will earn your forgiveness.”

Optimus hung his helm and Ratchet put a servo on his shoulder. Everything was still in grayscale. It summed up well how Bee was feeling.

He weakly lifted his free arm to mime typing, and Ratchet gasped before spinning around to retrieve a data pad for the scout to type on.

im okay.

“That’s a lie and you know it!” the doctor scolded. Bee winced.

fine. not okay. but alive thanks to you. both of you.

“I’m the one who put you in this position. I am to blame for your… condition,” the Prime mourned.

i did this. i opened my big intake and pushed the limits. but it worked. the all spark did exactly what it was supposed to do and we succeeded.

“The mission was an overall success, yes. But I have failed you. I am—”

Bee held up a servo, cutting the Prime off from speaking.

save it. i dont regret dedicating my life for this. what was my alternative? mine for energon forever? youve given me a purpose greater than anything else in the world. so dont apologize for what you didnt do. i told you i did this and i mean it. i also didnt do this for the cause or for the autobots. i did it for you like ironhide said. its all for you and i dont regret it. 

“But you’ll never be able to speak again,” Ratchet said. Where Optimus’ voice was full of sympathy and affection, Ratchet’s was just as straightforward as ever. No lamentation and no pity. It was surprisingly refreshing.

i know. sucks. Bee frowned. could you check on my optic settings though? im stuck in grayscale. its kinda making me sad.

“Of course, Bumblebee,” the doctor responded.

“We have some other news for you as well,” Optimus said, finally giving up on apologizing. He should know he can’t win a stubbornness fight against the scout. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the reconnection of your nerves, so you’ll have control of your limbs again once you heal. Unfortunately, your frame and plating didn’t fare so well, especially along your spinal strut. We anticipate that you’ll need to reframe to regain full mobility.”

thats not too bad i guess. ive never known a different frame style. itll be nice to try something new. new bod new me am i right.

Ratchet groaned then smiled warmly. “At least you haven’t lost that sense of humor. Nobody tell Prowl.”

no problem there doc. 

Optimus and Ratchet both looked horrified at the comment and Bee grinned.

what? too soon?

“Ugh. Let’s get you fixed up.”

The Ark was ready for departure but Bumblebee wanted one last moment of peace on his home planet. It had been a few orbital cycles since the incident at Tyger Pax, and the scout was finally fully healed. Well, mostly anyway.

The implant in his throat clicked and whirred in contentment as Bee felt the breeze on his faceplate and along his new doorwings. He’d happily be the first to say it, if he could, that his new frame had major style. Even Cliffjumper was obviously jealous of Bee’s amazing set of wings. He couldn’t fly, but racing on wheels was still one of the scout’s favorite feelings.

When a pressure fell on his shoulder, Bee jumped only slightly, and realized quickly that the pressure was the servo of his leader. He never showed it, but Optimus definitely felt all the sadness of leaving Cybertron that everyone else felt, if not more. His love for the planet ran as deep as the energon veins woven into the ground. And that was pretty fragging deep.

“The planet you’ve chosen will make a wonderful refuge. I’m eager for what we may learn there, though I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing my home. I’m sorry that you never got to live on a Cybertron that was free of war. You never had a true home here.”

Bee attempted to waggle his digits to sign his thoughts to Optimus, but gave up after a few nanokliks of forgetting the right gestures and brought out his data pad instead.

There is an Earth saying I learned. “Home is where the heart is.” A heart to a human is like what our sparks are to us. But I think it’s more metaphorical. I had a home here, Optimus, because I was surrounded by bots who cared about me. You’re at the top of that list.

He paused in his typing, but now was not the time to be bashful.

Is it true that you feel like you adopted me?

The Prime’s optics widened for a flash in shock, but he quickly retook control of his expression and softened it. “You were just a sparkling.” Optimus lifted his gaze to the sky, which was a brilliant blue. A blue as bright and vibrant as the first day Bee was ever able to see its true beauty. “You were so small and scared, but you had courage, energy, and passion. I took you in because I wanted to see what you could do.”

The question?

“I—Yes. I do feel that way. You mean everything to me.”

And you mean everything to me.

Optimus squeezed his shoulder before turning back toward the ship. “We’ll be leaving soon, but I have faith that one day, we will see our planet again. You deserve that much.”

Bumblebee took one last look around, taking in the sight of the ruined cities and industries that once boomed with life. The planet was a husk now, made even more decrepit since the ejection of the All Spark. Earth would be a haven. Optimus Prime and the other Autobots would be his home.

He was successful when he saved the Autobots from the Seekers. He was successful when he saved Elita-1 from the Nemesis. And now, by sailing across the universe, he succeeded in saving his family.