Transformers: The Art of Effective Communication
Optimus, Ironhide and Ratchet stayed well back and observed while Bumblebee conducted the negotiations. They’d never seen such an…unusual form of communication before, and had no desire to risk alienating a valuable ally by interpreting it incorrectly.
/What language is Sam speaking anyway,/ Ironhide asked crossly over their internal comms.
/It appears to be a combination of his native verbal language and a mix of body language and hand gestures. I still can’t see how Bumblebee is translating it accurately,/ Ratchet replied.
/Fascinating,/ Optimus contributed distractedly.
“You mean you’ve never,” Sam said, following up his verbal assertion by holding both fists in front of his chest, then moving them sideways in opposite directions while simultaneously opening his fists. It was, the Autobots had learned from continuous association with certain humans in the military (who shall remain nameless), a common gesture used to denote an explosion.
Bumblebee moved his head from right to left in the human physical equivalent of “no.”
/Why in the Pit is Bee telling him that we’ve never blown anything up?/
/Primus only knows./
/Ratchet./
Sam faced Bee squarely, hands now on his hips. “No way,” he said firmly. “I don’t believe it.”
Bumblebee nodded and held up his left hand, fingers together, palm out. Though none of the watching Autobots would admit it, they all recognized the gesture from a spate of midday shows detailing the exploits of various sharp-tongued members of the judicial system.
“But you’ve been here almost a whole year,” Sam insisted. “I mean, sure you were busy during that first Fourth-“
/Fourth? Isn’t that a designation drawn from their numerical system? Fourth what?/
/No idea./
“-but surely New…Years…wait.”
Bee obediently waited. The three watchers waited with him.
“New Years,” Sam said slowly, “that was…” He trailed off, raised his right hand roughly to shoulder height and waved it a few times in a vaguely circular motion.
/I don’t think I know that gesture./
/Maybe it’s unique to Sam./
Bee nodded.
“With the…” Same motion, but with three of his fingers curled back against his palm.
/Definitely unique to Sam./
Bee nodded again.
“Oh. So, no…” Explosion gesture again.
Bee held a hand out, palm down and-keeping it rigid-tilted it back and forth, above and below and invisible horizontal axis.
/That’s the gesture Lennox uses to describe something of an acceptable but unsatisfactory nature./
/So they’re talking about an acceptable but unsatisfactory explosion?/
/That would make more sense if he was talking to Ironhide./
/Heh./
/Not a compliment./
Sam laughed.
/Well, I don’t think it means the same thing here, anyway./
/Maybe not./
Sam quickly sobered and went quiet. He wrapped his left arm horizontally across his middle, rested his right elbow in his left hand and his chin in his right hand. The new posture caught Optimus’ attention.
/I know that one!
/You don’t say./
/He’s thinking!/
/Optimus…/
Sam abruptly uncrossed his arms and snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it!” he cried out.
Bumblebee’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned his head back to stare upward.
/…/
/…/
/…/
Sam slapped the nearest available part of Bumblebee-his knee. “Hey! No arguing! You’re going to go, and you’re going to love it.”
Bee looked back down at Sam, tilted his head to the left a little and brightened his optics.
/I’ve never seen Bumblebee do that before…/
/Nor I./
Sam beamed up at his guardian, and stepped forward to lay both hands against Bee’s metal skin. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too, Bee,” he said fondly. Then a mischievous smile broke out on his face. “I love you so much that I couldn’t possibly deny you the pleasure of telling the other Autobots yourself.”
Bee aimed a half-hearted swat at a spot a good three feet over Sam’s head. The boy ducked and danced away, laughing.
“Thanks, Bee! See ya later, I’m gonna go tell Mikaela,” he called over his shoulder as he ran off. Bee stared silently after him for a few long minutes before standing and heading over to where his fellow Autobots were hiding. The broke cover and met him halfway.
“How in the Pit did you translate that?” Ironhide demanded.
“Ahem,” Optimus said firmly, using an appropriated human expression to take over the questioning. “What Ironhide means to ask is, exactly what language were you two using?”
“The language of Sam,” Bumblebee replied cheekily. “We’ve been ordered to attend a celebration of the founding of this country in order to observe the human art of making colored explosions in the sky.”
“Explosions?” Ironhide asked hopefully.
“Sam calls them fireworks,” Bee offered.
“Now hold on just a minute-“ Ratchet began.
“But-!”
“Explosions! Ironhide! Humans! I don’t have enough spare parts for this!”
Bumblebee, being as helpful as always, chimed in with, “Sam was most insistent the last time we discussed this that it was a most important cultural experience.”
Optimus twitched. Ratchet groaned. Ironhide’s right cannon began to hum. Bee chalked up a point in his favor and went in for the kill. “You know, I think it’s just something he really wants to share with us. Not as allies, really, just as friends.”
“That’s…not…slag.” Bee tried not to grin at Ratchet’s half-unwilling capitulation and looked over at Optimus.
“What do you say, big bot?” he asked, momentarily falling back on his youngling nickname for Optimus.
Optimus smiled. “I’m going to end up apologizing to some government official before this is over because you and your charge were running amuck around explosive materials, aren’t I?” he murmured.
“Mikaela’s usually a good influence. So is Captain Lennox,” Bumblebee said, being careful to not directly answer the question.
Optimus sighed. “Fireworks it is, then.”