FIND YOU

"Wouldn't let it show,"

⬵⤁

The patrol squadron did not linger long, Bumblebee letting an extended vent escape him once he believed the coast was clear.

His servo clutched his bleeding side, his readers flashing a low energon warning across his processor every few kliks, which was every few kliks too frequent. Of course he knew he was running low; it had been some time since he had consumed any energon, and now he was bleeding out. He leaned against the rusty dune more than normal, listening to the fading hum of aircraft engines and waiting for them to fully disappear.

The scout was frequently chased by different Decepticon teams, likely groups that banned together to bring his helm to Megatron in exchange for a bounty. He managed to evade capture for now, but the random schedule and lack of access to technology left Bumblebee in the dark. It was only a matter of time before he was cornered.

Thoughts of Raf and the hope that Optimus had also managed to escape kept him going,the Autobot determined to reach civilization and find a way back to Earth. By his estimates, three years had already passed on Earth; that was a matter of days by the Cybertronian calendar, and it only made him worry more about what was happening on the tiny planet. It was already clear to him that Megatron was victorious on Cybertron . . . so what did he do to Earth?

It scared him, but he had to survive, and get back to Rafael and the others.

Doing a quick scan the scout deemed his surroundings safe, relaxing just a little more as he waited for his nanites to finish the initial repairs and stop his leaking. Once that was accomplished, he began limping his way across the barren landscape, cringing as pain shot from his side up his arm and down his leg. It only exacerbated his aches and stiff pains from low energon levels.

Bumblebee could recall the battles fought on the Sea of Rust, and the secret operations which partook there. He had managed to refuel at Shockwave's outpost, sneaking energon from the lake before fleeing. It gave the 'bot hope that other energon lakes were around, at least one he could fill up with before continuing on his way.

The Sea was vast and the equipment, weaponry, and fallen comrades from the war had long rusted and become a part of the environment, leaving Bumblebee to just guess where he was. That was why it was taking him several days to not only avoid Decepticon detection, but also find civilization and get himself back to Earth. It was a struggle to return to the war that left him stranded here in the first place, as he was forced to essentially wander.

Bumblebee limped past another rust dune, pausing and pulling himself out of his own thoughts when he saw what appeared to be a strange formation in the rust. It looked like something fairly large had plowed through them, carving a scar through the normally untouched landscape. Apprehensive, he looked around, finding nothing nor hearing anything that could tell him just how recent this was, however he could also tell this was fresh. Fresh enough, anyways, to have occurred within the past few days.

Stepping onto the path carefully, he realized it was as if a ship had crashed here, or even an asteroid.

Confused, and certainly having never seen either events happen, he carefully walked in the direction the crash course occurred, watching it fade from a borderline crater to a line in the dirt. From there he saw what used to be the resting place of the object, dried energon in a pool and spattered around the resting site. Looking up, his spark almost stopped.

An energon lake was right there, perhaps only half of a football-field away from where he stood. An energon trail lead to its edge, Bumblebee hypothesizing that whoever - or whatever - it had been had dragged itself to the lake.

Slowly the scout made his way to the pool, remaining in hiding and searching for who could possibly be at this place. He heard and saw nothing, the trail of energon ending right at the lip of the blue pool.

His aching joints reminded him that he needed energon, the scout careful to not abandon his watch; if an enemy was hiding, he could easily be picked off while drinking. Even as he knelt by the shore he looked around, scooping energon up and drinking it from his palm. The substance tasted fairly fresh despite being unprocessed, and his systems took it without much complaint.

Still on watch he drank, going so far as to fill his tanks past well satiated, opening his reserves and cramming every drop of energon that could be stored. His optics brightened and began taking in his surroundings with more clarity, the scout gazing down at the energon and realizing, with some alarm, that there appeared to be something beneath its surface.

Bumblebee jerked back just a little, but the figure did not move. It remained still, its mishappen form settled at the bottom. Something plucked at his processor, and despite part of him screaming no, the scout placed his face into the energon.

It took a second for his optics to adjust, but once they did he could much more clearly see what was at the bottom, the dull flash of a silver insignia catching his attention.

Taking his face out of the energon Bumblebee looked around, unbelieving of what he could have seen. His spark beat wildly in his chassis, his frame trembling. For days he had searched, and wondered, and now . . .

Seeing no one else in sight, Bumblebee slipped completely into the lake, shutting off his vents and adjusting his optics again. Planting his feet on the side of the rusty metal he kicked off, diving straight for the figure that rested at the bottom of the lake.

Optimus Prime looked just as one would expect after being launched through the air by the Star Saber. His chest was wide open, the Matrix of Leadership glowing softly in the energon, and the metal of his armor and faceplates had been torn, nearly completely shredded. His nanites had been able to seal off the leakages, though it must have taken hours. Bumblebee could only assume that his leader had barely made it to the lake in time to replenish his energon and keep himself alive.

If anything, he was smart to slip into the lake. Not only was he virtually undetectable, but he had a nearly unlimited supply of energon to replenish as his nanites kept working. He lived, but Bumblebee feared if he removed him from the environment he would die.

The scout landed next to his leader, the disturbance of the ground onlining Optimus' optics. He turned his helm weakly, looking up at Bumblebee. Surprise flickered across his tired face, and the smallest smile ghosted across his damaged faceplate.

"Bumblebee?"

Unlike humans, Cybertronians did not require air to survive; it was useful for cooling down heated systems, but it was not essential to life. Meltdowns were rare, even with disabled ventilation systems. Cybertronian vocals also used electricity to produce vibrations, and thus air pressure was not required to speak. Even still, Optimus' speech was garbled, likely due to the massive damage he had sustained.

"Optimus," Bumblebee's prosthetic worked fairly well underneath the energon as well. He kneeled next to his leader, lightly touching his shoulder. "You're alive!"

"Yes," Optimus' frame shuddered ever so slightly. "But I fear . . . I do not have much time left."

"But you're safe here," Bumblebee assured him. "I barely found you. And I can cover your tracks."

"Even with that . . . my systems are shutting down. Slowly but surely," he said tiredly. "My spark and frame have suffered too much damage . . . I fear that I have failed you. And the Autobots, and Earth."

"The fight isn't over yet! We just have to get you back . . . back to a medic! Surely they can patch you up."

Bumblebee wanted to kick himself, having almost said "back to Ratchet." He did not know what happened to the medic, yet even then he was sure the Autobots were still without their most trusted doctor.

"No . . ." Optimus looked tired, and defeated. "I can feel it, Bumblebee. My spark is fading . . . and the Matrix will require a new bearer."

The scouts optics shrunk, his newly filled tanks churning.

"Optimus . . . no," he said, in complete denial. "No, no! We will find someone, I'll find a medic! We can't lose you now. We need you."

The Prime just shuttered his optics. "I have failed the Autobot cause, Bumblebee. I feel . . . that it is time for a new leader to ascend to the position."

"But who?"

"The Matrix will decide," Optimus gazed up at Bumblebee, the barest of smiles once again flickering on his faceplates. "It may even chose you, my brave scout."

Bumblebee felt his chest tighten in emotional pain, kneeling next to Optimus. "I am going to find help. I'll get you to Earth, maybe they can help. And maybe we can find our friends again."

The Prime's optics softened, his frame settling further into the sediment of the energon lake. Bumblebee's persistence touched him, and even as he told the scout he could not possibly make it, he was still determined to save his leader . . . and friend.

"I only ask that you are cautious in your endeavor," he said softly, gazing at the scout. "I am certain the Decepticons are looking for us."

Bumblebee nodded. He made to return to the surface, but paused.

"Is there . . . anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

Optimus shifted just a little, then shook his helm slowly, painfully.

"I will be alright. Thank you, Bumblebee."

With one last look over his shoulder, Bumblebee made his way to the surface. He carefully surveyed the area before climbing out, leaving his leader at the bottom of the lake. Hurriedly drying off, he then focused his attention on the energon trail, quickly beginning to clean it up. He would not be able to hide the lake, but surely the Decepticons would not think that Optimus dragged himself into it - if they even assumed he was alive at all. Even Bumblebee had no idea he was down there.

Once the trail was effectively covered, he gazed at the crater. Surely he could create a false trail and throw 'cons off the scent with the lake energon, but where would the trail go?

Bumblebee vented in quiet frustration, deciding he would do his best to get the trail as far away from the lake as possible. The question was - how to make the trail?

Then, the idea came, and he could not help but feel brilliant.

Sifting through the rust he found something large enough to hold a fair amount of energon, collecting it from the lake before returning to the crash site. Creating more drag marks he spilt energon, then carefully transformed. Opening a car door he allowed the bucket to be tilted ever so slightly, just enough to drip when he would hit a bump. Revving his engine he went on his way, killing two birds with one stone.

Creating a false trail, and hopefully finding himself out of this mess. His internal GPS system would tell him how to get back here, so he was not worried about going too far.

Bumblebee found a way to do this, so surely he could find a way to save Optimus.

⬵⤁

Nothing gave Starscream a bigger helmache than the organics who thought they were in charge.

The Vosian was well versed in various forms of politics; after all, he grew up in a high-society that practically required scheming and deals in order to survive. It was why Megatron enlisted his help, and perhaps even at one point respected Starscream - he was a 'bot one wanted as a political ally. Even then, however, he felt like human politics were designed to get nowhere.

"-and I am still at a loss for how, and why, the Decepticons infiltrated supposedly 'protected' airspace, killed a pilot, and potentially seized the other's black box!" The man speaking was the apparent "governor" of Nevada, essentially the president of the state. With him was the same for Colorado and Utah, as well as a few handful of officials of various ranks who had any sort of say. They were elevated on a platform, because Primus forbid they have to act like the smallest beings in the room.

Regardless, Starscream stood at his full height, his wings held straight up and his servos clasped behind his back. Due to his extra appendages the Seeker appeared permanently hunched, but forcing his shoulders back helped disable that illusion. Agent Fowler sat closest to him, and with him General Bryce. The governors and other officials were seated at a long table, Nevada sitting on one end while Starscream stood at the other. It was a power play, no doubt, but he hardly cared.

"The planes were deployed from the Area 51 landing bays," Starscream said evenly. "And it has been well over 12 hours since the attack - if Cyclonus was going to launch an offensive, he would have done so. Due to this, I am inclined to believe that if Soundwave acquired any information, it was extremely limited."

"And yet the attack happened," Colorado's governor glared. "I thought that was Autobot controlled airspace!"

If he was not the center of their attentions, Starscream would have possibly laughed. The humans had no idea they were in the presence of the equivalence of a supercomputer, a fully sentient AI. It had already occurred to Starscream that there were multiple possibilities for why the attack occurred.

"As a leading body of this country, I would have expected you to have some military expertise, governor," Starscream replied. "There are no set boundaries aside from what we dictate. We can ascertain the attack was purposeful, as Soundwave was present. Additionally, it transpired shortly after our successful mission to infiltrate the AZ sector."

"So you're saying it was a revenge strike," Colorado's governor crossed his arms.

The Seeker shifted his stance. "Possibly, but unlikely. I think it was more of an act of desperation. Believe it or not, it is humiliating to admit defeat to your kind."

"And what do you mean by that?" Utah's governor bristled.

"What Commander Starscream means is that it's embarrassing, because we're considered more primitive," Agent Fowler stepped in, shooting the former Decepticon a look that clearly said "be nice." "To the Decepticons, anyways."

"Megatron will likely not accept Cyclonus' loss. This was a way to try and reobtain some dignity," Starscream continued. "And possibly squash our resistance. In the same swoop, he could have gathered useful information for his master."

"Which was prevented, thanks to Starscream's efforts," Agent Fowler reminded the group. "He managed to save one pilot and prevent more casualties. The only problem that remains is what we should expect next. What few locals still live near Jasper have reported the Nemesis has returned to Darkmount. That means Megatron is in town."

"Well, he's probably punished Cyclonus, isn't he?" The Colorado governor asked. "You've already made it fairly clear he's only interested in controlling Earth, not actually living here."

"Earth is currently undergoing two battles, as seen by your President's attempts to communicate with outside countries," Starscream noted. "A war that is both physical and political. It is no secret that your former Asian allies are discussing possible agreements with the Decepticons in exchange for reduced restrictions. As trivial as you are, I am sure Megatron will want to attend the negotiations, if only so he can trick them into signing a deal that will ultimate leave him in full control."

General Bryce rubbed his temples. "If anything, we are lucky Cybertronian politics take forever. It has been three years; surely Megatron would have settled things by now."

"Well, it has only been . . . less than twenty days on Cybertron," Starscream said. "If we are considering the traditional vorn, which is equivalent to 83 Earth years. But in those few days he has managed to recruit several Decepticons. The invasion has just begun. And it may not even be finished by the end of your lifetimes."

The Utah governor whistled softly. "By God. Less than twenty days on your planet? How far away is it?"

"Far enough that you can barely see it with your telescopes," Starscream answered. "But with Spacebridge technology, an army could swarm Earth within seconds. This is why time is still of the essence. We cannot rely on it to give us the advantage."

The table of officials looked grim, only a few more words exchanged before the meeting was officially adjourned. Agent Fowler made his way over to the edge, Starscream tilting his head and acknowledging his presence.

"How are the bumps and scrapes?" The Agent asked.

Starscream cocked an optic ridge. "I have healed well, if that is what you are asking. My injuries were far from debilitating. Sierra, on the other hand . . ."

"She would be in worse shape if you didn't step in," Fowler said, begrudgingly thankful. Like the others, the three years he was with the Seeker made things almost . . . friendly. Granted, both still had reservations about the other, and disagreed often, but there was a sort of respect that Starscream had not had in a long time. It appeared that giving him a position of power and control somewhat tamed him, or at the very least made him tolerable. And that was enough.

"I suppose that is a fair assessment," Starscream gazed at the Agent. "Though your governors seem to disagree."

"I have my own personal opinions on politicians and government," Fowler said dismissively. "And they're ones we don't have to get in to for today. I'm sure the Wrecker's are getting antsy that you haven't gotten back."

Starscream resisted the urge to roll his optics. "If we are lucky, nothing will be broken."

"Guess we'll just have to find out," Agent Fowler grinned just a little. Flipping open his phone, he called the base. "Raf, Agent Fowler here. We are ready for pick-up."