Alien 7 part 1
Alien
Chapter 7
[Transformers, 2007 movie] The defeat of Megatron and the defense of earth has left everyone the chance to relax a little. Now, if only that was all that was out there...
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Mikaela and Autobots, OCs. Gen, but features a little Sam/Mikaela for canon reasons.
Ratings and Warnings: OC-heavy, a very little violence and language, psuedoscience, PG-13/T for safety.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
FFnet Link
Alien: Chapter 7 part 1
Author's Notes: This chapter is Nimbus-centric, as much as there’s a focus beyond hammering out some more of the science-type details, because of Kyarorin, who’s a fan. :D
oOoOoOo
Irene bit thoughtfully at the tip of her pen as she glared thoughtfully at the trail end of the recording. She looked down at the clipboard she was holding, glare softening. She hummed thoughtfully.
“Well?” said Sam. Irene jumped slightly, then snapped her eyes up to meet his, expression obviously annoyed.
“Keats, take notes,” continued the scientist, voice raised so that Keats and Kristine could hear her. Keats was up a ladder, poised to take notes; Kristine was at the base of the ladder, stabilizing it and providing commentary. “Groups Red, Yellow and Cobalt Blue-constantly active. Light appears to have no affect on their behavior. Groups Orange and Sky Blue-crepuscular leaning towards nocturnal. Group Green-partially constantly active, partially crepuscular leaning towards nocturnal. Groups Turquoise, Purple and Violet-no movement at all. You got that?”
“Just a second,” said Keats vaguely, concentrating on the chart he was filling out. A minute later he said “Yeah. That’s the last of it.”
“All the groups with the constant activity showed up dead today,” said Kristine, voice uncharacteristically sharp and intelligent. Sam jumped slightly at the change from her usual tone: slightly clueless but essentially good-natured. “Very, very definitely dead. Frostbitten dead.”
“Frostbitten?” said Solarity curiously from overhead.
“When organic tissue freezes solid, the water that inflates the cells freezes, and the ice crystals end up puncturing all kinds of important things. It’s kind of nasty, really. People end up losing fingers, noses, toes, ears and that sort of thing to it. With plants, it essentially means that they dissolve into black mushy sludge,” said Kristine vaguely. Irene had moved from nibbling absentmindedly at her pen to chewing on it viciously as she stared at the data.
“That’s revolting,” said Landslide, voice thick with disgust, from his corner. “Organic design is so ridiculously inefficient…”
“Autobots don’t do particularly well when their fluids freeze, either,” said Ratchet mildly.
“Well, yes, but we’re not going to dissolve, and it takes temperatures a damn lot colder than freezing to do it to us.” There was obvious scorn in Landslide’s voice.
Bumblebee shifted loudly and obviously from his position in the corner.
Optimus Prime gave a loud sigh-although, some small part of Kristine’s mind realized, it was probably an adapted gesture, one that wasn’t natural to the Autobots at all, but instead had been borrowed to replace some other sort of habit, so that the humans could understand it-that was, eerily, echoed almost exactly by Irene a few seconds later.
Irene stared up in consternation at the chart above her. “Clearly, there’s something we’re missing. Something big.” Her voice was clearly irritated. “And it’s pretty obvious that it’s related to how many of the plants there are.”
Keats shivered slightly. “Communal alien mind-fungus plants,” he said, sounding torn between amusement and terror.
“Not just communal,” said Kristine. “It’s pretty clear that something about single living is actively fatal for these things. And considering how short the window on their death was, I doubt it’s loneliness that’s killing them off.”
“…‘single living’?” muttered Mikaela. Sam shook with smothered laughter.
“‘Lonely’?” he mouthed back.
“Something about how they work requires more than one plant to do something essential,” continued Irene as if she hadn’t heard a word. Her pen was looking rather the worse for wear. “Kristine, how quickly can you get someone to do an analysis of the mush that’s left over from the dead plants? One of the ones that was just left alone, not one from group Turquoise. I want data on every little thing in there that’s not present in the grouped infected plants, and everything that’s different from the uninfected plant. Priority given to the former, of course.”
“It’s going to take awhile,” said Kristine mildly. “We’ve hardly got a fully outfitted set-up here, despite the government’s best efforts. Even if we did, this isn’t the sort of thing that’s necessarily going to go quickly.”
“Damn…”
“I can do it faster than your methods can manage,” offered Ratchet from overhead.
Irene gave a perfunctory glance upwards. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t suppose you could give me an in-depth report of how the plant behaves on a cellular level, as well?”
“I can’t do both at the same time, but I know that other members of the team are outfitted for it…”
“Who?” cut in Optimus Prime.
“Solarity and Gyro have both been fitted with the basic equipment for dual-purpose field scientists or medics,” said Ratchet. “And Coldfront has perfunctory equipment, a few degrees better than what ordinary Autobots possess. He should be marginally helpful, at least.”
“Why?” said Keats, sounding baffled. “Gyro? Isn’t he the little one who’s always snickering?”
Bumblebee snorted with laughter. “Yes,” he said, over it.
“Gyro was outfitted as a spy,” said Coldfront from the other side of the room, voice raised a little, thoughtfully, so that the humans could still hear him. “And then given scientific programs and protocols as well, to back up his cover story if he was ever caught by Decepticons.”
“How do you two know each other?” asked Mikaela.
“We were temporarily on the same team, before Gyro was reassigned to a different team better able to make use of someone with his capabilities,” said Coldfront.
“We’re off-topic,” muttered Kristine.
“Would you be willing to assist?” said Irene, looking up briefly, her eyes slightly unfocused from concentrating too long at close range, making her vague stare even more unnerving than it usually was.
“Yes,” said Optimus Prime, Ratchet and Coldfront, more-or-less simultaneously.
“Ah. Thanks,” said the botanist, head clearly still up in the clouds-or down in the dirt. She continued talking, clearly to herself. “Beyond analyzing the chemical components of the plants, I want to know what’s happening inside the plants on a cellular level. If this was associated with how the plants seem to be carnivorous, that would… No, that’s a little too pat, a little too neat. I don’t like it. We’re still missing something. Combining photosynthetic and non-photosynthetic energy shouldn’t cause too many problems… I mean, there’s carnivorous plants. This isn’t something to do with autotrophs being incompatible with heterotrophs. But we still don’t know how the fungus figures into this. Gah. I need more files on how Cordyceps works. But not now. Energy, though-photosynthesis, even with the support of energy from the meat, shouldn’t give them what they need for this type of movement… Something’s missing…”
Irene looked up to find most of the room fixated on her and her mumblings. She flushed, just slightly.
“Pay attention to how the whole ATP deal seems to be working, okay?” she said finally.
“ATP?” said Sam. Mikaela shoved an elbow into his ribs.
“We covered that in biology and chemistry!” she hissed.
“Adenosine triphosphate,” said Kristine as she bustled past the two teens with copies of the new data to give to the other focus groups.
“That was spectacularly unhelpful,” said Sam.
oOo
“You don’t trust Nimbus, do you?” said Sam, quietly, to Bee. The (maybe?) reformed Decepticon was gone, still on a patrol-he seemed to prefer the Amazon rainforest to the confined quarters and suspicious reactions of the temporary Autobot base.
Bumblebee’s engine rumbled wordlessly, suddenly racing underneath Sam and Mikaela from where they sat perched on his knee.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then, you don’t trust him at all,” said Sam.
Mikaela shrugged her shoulders. “I can understand how it’s hard to trust him,” she said. “I mean, I’m pretty nervous around him myself. But at the same time I can understand what it’s like to have a history you’re not proud of. And how hard it can be to move beyond it.”
Sam squeezed her hand wordlessly. “I’m still sorry,” he said.
“Goof. You’ve already apologized. …A lot.”
“Still…”
“I understand, Sam. It was a lot to throw at you, considering what was going on, and yeah, you reacted badly when you were told that your crush’s dad was a car thief and she had helped him with it, and had a juvie record because of it. Especially when you’d just been abducted by the government because your first car turned out to be an alien.”
Bumblebee beeped good-naturedly at the two humans.
“‘Well, when you put it like that’ and all that jazz, I guess,” said Sam. “C’mere, you.” He leaned over to kiss her, one hand tangling in her hair.
“I don’t like it either,” growled Ironhide to one side of the yellow Autobot and the two kissing humans, who both jumped visibly, jerking out of their kiss.
“Ironhide,” gasped out Sam, “What did I tell you about doing that?”
“Why the slag would I know?” said the weapons expert grumpily. “It’s not like I was listening to you. It’s not like I needed to listen to you.”
Mikaela tried and failed to stifle her giggles. The hum of Bee’s engine underneath the two had taken on a distinctly amused note as well.
“Still,” continued Ironhide, head tilted in a way that seemed distinctly irritated even to the two humans, “I’ve been fighting Decepticons since the war began. I’ve been alive longer than anyone in this room, and I haven’t lived this long because of sheer dumb luck.”
“Ironhide picks up on the weirdest earth phrases,” Mikaela muttered. “Can’t manage most of them for the life of him, but others he has no problem with. I swear it’s on purpose…”
The Autobot ignored the interruption and continued talking. “And something just sits wrong with me with trusting a total stranger-a Decepticon stranger-based on nothing more than his word-”
“It was considerably more than just ‘his word,’” said Ratchet, sounding mildly insulted. “It’s not like I’m some nothing rookie who wouldn’t know an active subroutine if it came up and bit him.”
“Why does everyone feel the need to have their say while I’m talking?” growled Ironhide. “As I was saying, we have no reason to trust this-” he broke off briefly into Cybertronian and Bumblebee snickered. Sam and Mikaela winced as a few of the higher notes vibrated their way into their teeth. “-around everyone here. The only reason I haven’t shot him is because Bumblebee hasn’t, and he’s the one with the most to lose in this situation.”
“So… You’re saying that you trust his judgment when it comes to this…?” said Sam doubtfully.
“No, I’m saying that if anyone gets to dismember the punk, it’s him.”
“Oh.” Yes, that did seem considerably more in-character for the Autobot, on reflection.
“It’s probably for the best that Optimus is gone,” said Mikaela reflectively.
Bumblebee made a noise that closely resembled an irritated growl. “It isn’t safe to have him here. Especially considering the situation. Of course, I’m not sure I’d trust Landslide behind my back in a fight any more than an ex-Decepticon…”
There was a loud grunt from Landslide’s corner in response. Mikaela and Sam collapsed against each other, overcome with giggles.
Landslide continued speaking after a minute, when there were no other responses. “Little-” he switched briefly to Cybertronian “-is going to end up killing someone, maiming someone or fucking something up. One of the humans, if we’re lucky.”
Bumblebee probably would have gone for the beige vehicle’s throat if it hadn’t been for the presence of the two humans sitting on him. As things were, he settled for muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath in Cybertronian and flashing his newly-prepped gun at the Autobot pointedly.
“And Landslide,” continued Ironhide, as if the Autobot he was speaking about hadn’t just spoken and wasn’t, in fact, in the room at all. “The damned Decepticon is bad enough, but I’d rather be stuck with him than with Landslide. Doesn’t know when to shut up, doesn’t know when to give up, doesn’t know enough to re-evaluate his damned opinions-if we were back closer towards the beginning of the war, I’d say he should stay towards the back when everyone’s heading into battle, because with a personality like that there’s going to be an accident where someone ends up, say, shooting him in the back-‘because of nerves or the confusion of the situation, of course, looked like a Decepticon coming down on me, sir, I swear.’ Of course, that’s not going to happen with so few of us here…” Ironhide sounded actively disappointed.
Sam winced, then scrambled to his feet, bracing himself against his best friend, craning to look over towards the other side of the room. Landslide appeared to have gone to sleep.
“Whoah,” he said, on general principle. Even when you spent a lot of time around them, giant robots got kind of unnerving when they were threatening each other with friendly-fire deaths on the battlefield. And/or talking about how much they hated humans.
After a few minutes, Solarity started speaking. “I don’t know,” he said. “Ratchet said he wasn’t lying, and we don’t know his reasons for switching sides. Whatever it was, it must have been something. But he seems decent enough, and he’s trying at least, and he’s friendlier than Landslide is to humans and Autobots both…” He trailed off, looking off into space, the other Autobots copying him-even the ‘asleep’ Landslide.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked Bee quietly after a minute.
“Nothing,” said the yellow mech. “Just a transmission. Optimus is coming back from patrol, and wanted to make sure things were going according to regulation. Just a regular check-in.”
“What do you think, Coldfront?” asked Solarity as the Autobot door to the building opened up, allowing the transformed Prime to drive in.
“It is not my position to say,” said the robot stiffly.
“What?” said Ratchet, sounding patently confused.
“Because a commanding officer has already made a decision, it would be insubordinate of me to question the matter, and disrespectful to give my opinion the same importance as theirs.” Coldfront’s words were nearly covered up to Sam and Mikaela’s ears by the clicking and whirring of Optimus’ transformation
There was dead silence.
“…What sort of commanding officer did you have?” said Solarity disbelievingly.
Optimus sighed heavily.
Coldfront, he sent silently to the Autobot. I don’t think you understand the situation here. As far as we know, we could be the only Autobots left alive. Until more Decepticons arrive, there is no active fighting going on. The hierarchy is going to be considerably looser than it usually is, and from what I can tell, what you’re used to is a lot stricter than is normal. You’re going to have to adjust.
My apologies, sir, Coldfront sent back.
That’s… I think you’re still missing the point. It is not necessary to refer to me as ‘sir’ when we are not acting as an army unit. ‘Optimus’ is fine. I’m not going to punish you for having opinions or voicing them. Even for acting on them without permission, much of the time, especially not when it’s something like helping out the science branch. You’re not going to be reprimanded for anything short of getting arrested or causing mass amounts of property damage with no good excuse. As long as nobody ends up dead, the punishment will probably not be all that severe.
Yes… Coldfront’s message trailed off, the Autobot clearly having trouble with his new orders. Optimus Prime. he finished.
Close enough, said the Autobot leader finally.
When Optimus turned his attention back to the verbal conversation it had shifted onto how Sam was going to deal with his mother when he got back home.
“Seriously. She’s going to freak out-she reads National Geographic, and it only makes her more paranoid about rainforests than she would be normally. I swear she knows more about the parasites you can pick up in these sorts of places than anyone short of a specialist.”
“I dated a biologist who was specializing in parasites, once,” said Irene-she’d paused in the doorway as she’d been walking in to catch the tail end of the conversation without interrupting. “It didn’t last.”
“Urgh,” said Mikaela feelingly. Sam was inclined to agree.
“Yeah, that should have been my reaction when I was asked out.”
“So, there’s a lot of species that parasitize humans?” said Solarity curiously. “What sort of effects do they have? Historically, before your medicine and hygiene improved, how did you survive that sort of thing? What counts as a negative value when it comes romantic involvement in social terms? And what’s the deal with your mother, Sam?”
“Uh…” said Sam.
Irene laughed.
“More things than I can name parasitize people, including some particularly nasty ones,” said Irene. “Various affects, up to and including death. On the other hand, it can be something like leeches, which are just kind of gross-although they are used for medicinal purposes every so often, so I suppose that that could be your point of view. It depends on what sort of parasite it is, when it comes to effect. I mean, bot fly larvae in your head aren’t going to have the same effect as a tapeworm in your gut. Historically speaking-I’d read up on malaria, if you’re interested at all. It’s pretty fascinating stuff.
“Plusses and minuses in dating… Whooo, that’s a big one. To partially answer your question, the problem with dating someone who knows a lot about parasites and, in fact, works and studies them for a living, is that they are liable to talk about it. And listening to that sort of thing goes beyond creepy for most people.”
Mikaela nodded fervently.
“And I’ve never met Sam’s mother so you’ll have to ask him about her, but from what I heard it sounds as if she’s fairly over-protective.”
Sam sighed. “Mom has a-forceful personality. That’s a good way to put it. Did I tell you she went after a secret government agent with a baseball bat?”
Irene bit her lip, holding back a laugh. “Amusing as I’m sure that anecdote is, I’ve got to get back to work,” she said. “Lots of data left to analyze, you know.” She paused for a minute, starting to frown slightly, deep in thought.
And didn’t move, long enough that it was obvious.
“Irene?” said Evan’s voice hesitantly from behind her.
“We never did figure out what was alerting them to prey,” she said thoughtfully.
“Uh, no, we didn’t,” said Evan. He shot a nervous glance at the ring of Autobots looking down at the tangle of humans. He shot an even more nervous glance at Irene as she slowly started smiling.
“Hey, Evan, did you ever have any of those little wind-up toys when you were younger?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“That was supposed to be an answer, not a question!” barked out Irene, unexpectedly enough to make all the other humans jump. In the distance, Mikaela thought that she could hear Gyro giggling again.
“Sorry, ma’am!” yelped Evan.
“Hah. I figured you still had that reaction. I keep on telling Marie that scaring the spit out of her students doesn’t work for everyone, but she doesn’t listen.”
“No, -Irene, it’s just that it’s an honor to work with you and with everyone else-it was your essay on ferns that made me decide on botany, really, instead of marine biology-and everyone else… The people here are the best at this sort of thing, some of the most genius minds there are, and I’m still a grad student, really-”
“Evan,” said Irene kindly, “Ninety percent of all actual science done is by grad students, they just don’t usually get credit for it. Now, about the wind-up mice. How easy do you think it would be to alter them slightly?”
“Actually, I could probably help with that as well…” said Ratchet above them.
Irene whooped loudly. Bumblebee covered up a laugh.
“…And I have the data you requested here. I wasn’t able to locate some of the chemicals found in the samples in your databases-and they weren’t all from the infected ones-so I listed comparable ones. Most of it is very basic, but there are a few that-aren’t. Of course, this depends on accurate information being provided by your government. Our own files on biomolecules fall woefully short.”
“Thank you,” said Irene fervently. “I’d offer you my firstborn child-that’s the tradition, if I remember correctly-but I doubt you’d have any need of it. And it’s likely to be a while in coming. Kids scare the shit out of me. Scare me almost as much as childbirth, actually.”
Half the Autobots seemed to be running online searches to try to figure out the cultural significance of giving away your children.
“Um, I think that Irene just doesn’t make that much sense most of the time,” said Mikaela after a minute.
“Oooh, she’s quick,” said Irene approvingly. “Catches on fast. You ever consider a career in the sciences?” Evan looked torn between amusement and disapproval.
“I was thinking engineering,” said Mikaela automatically.
Irene sighed. “Never did understand mechanically-minded people, myself. The natural world is just so incredibly wonderfully and utterly fascinating.” She paused and looked around the room. “No offense intended, of course,” she added.
“Here’s the data,” said Ratchet finally, reaching down to hand her a small object that somehow seemed to ooze the sense that it was incredibly complex, advanced technology.
“Thanks,” said the botanist, looking at the thing in her hands with a single eyebrow raised expressively. “But do you know if it’s compatible with Windows XP?”
oOo
“It’s for the best, really, that it looks like these things die after you cut them off at the base,” said Irene, a scalpel held delicately poised over the now-still-and-wilted mass of greenery in front of her. “This would be much harder, otherwise.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be analyzing data?” said Kristine, looking up from where she was bent over a sheaf of papers a table over from the botanist.
“Yes, but I need a break. And what better way to do it than by shredding evil alien plant life?”
“Why do you keep on using the term ‘alien’? For all we know, this is just the next step in Cordyceps evolution-it’s just been brewing for a while, deep in the Amazon rainforest, its presence utterly unknown…”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s aggressively carnivorous. You read the reports about what happened in that village. No, this is nothing like anything we’ve seen before, except for a tenuous connection to Cordyceps. Which, true, alters the behavior of its prey, but not like this. Some more poking through those papers will reveal something, if we’re lucky, but no, this doesn’t match up. So it must be aliens.”
“…Your logic processes are frightening.”
“Psh. Stuff and nonsense! What’s really frightening are my unlogic processes.”
“You want me to ask, don’t you? Because then you’d get to answer me. Well, I refuse to play your petty games…”
“Damn, you’ve caught on to me.”
“Still, why would you think it’s alien in nature?”
“Oh, I don’t know. My mind’s just been a little more open to the apparently unfeasible lately.”
“I’d blame the Alice books, if I were you. You know-ten impossible things before breakfast and all that. It’s coming across in your speech.”
“While I freely admit to having communed with my childhood by rereading Through the Looking Glass and Alice in Wonderland pretty recently, I think it has more to do with the thirty foot tall giant robots than anything else.”
“Checkmate, I suppose.”
“You suppose right-hey, Evan!”
“Yes, M-Irene?”
“Don’t call me Ms. Gray, and after you finish up that, I won’t need any more of your help. Thank you very much, though-I really appreciate having you look over that for me. I always like a second eye to read through, and other than Professor Curtis you’re the only one with the right qualifications.”
Evan was blushing red enough that, Kristine thought privately, it looked like he was going to combust.
“Also, I think that the Secretary of Defense was saying something about how it would be good to have one of the botanists work with the mycologist-his name’s Cleve, right? Charles Cleve-poor man-so that there was a cluster group that was qualified on both sides of the equation. I thought you’d be a good choice, if you’re interested, since your work’s pretty much stalled right now.”
“No, no, I’d be happy too,” muttered Evan, looking highly embarrassed.
“…Is everything okay?” said Irene after a minute.
“I’m, uh, just kind of overwhelmed that the Secretary of Defense knows who I am,” said the younger botanist.
“You get used to that,” said Sam.
“Kind of,” said Mikaela.
oOo
“Hey,” said Mikaela agreeably to Keats, the only other person in the room, as she walked in with her breakfast, a cheap packaged muffin. The food was questionable on the temporary base.
“Hello,” he replied. “You’re up early.”
“Not as early as you,” she pointed out. “But I just couldn’t sleep. The beds here aren’t very comfortable.”
“Sam’s still asleep, then?”
“I guess so. He’s having trouble sleeping too, but that just means that he gets up at ten instead of noon.”
Keats laughed. “I remember when I was that age! I either couldn’t sleep at all, or even think about it, I was so wide-awake, or I could do nothing but. And it seemed to have very little to do with what time it was, except when it was in inverse relation to what I was supposed to be doing.”
Mikaela laughed as well. It was a pretty accurate summation. “So, you’ve got more experiments, right? It’s the only reason I can imagine getting up this early.”
Keats grinned sheepishly. “Actually, no. I got up so early so I could talk a walk before I have to do all the science. I haven’t had a break other than eating or sleeping for days, and I really needed it. Plus, I don’t think I could live with myself if I spent time in the Amazon Rainforest and never even set foot in the forest proper.” The emphasis he put on ‘Amazon Rainforest’ somehow managed to convey the sense that it was, approximately, equivalent to setting foot in Heaven for business and not taking the time to have a look around.
“Is it safe?”
“It’s well within the patrol ranges, and none of the Autobots have reported any signs of infected plants,” said Keats. “And neither have the regular human patrols. And Keller made me bring along a radio with dials set to both regular army frequencies and the ones the robots use. It probably doesn’t get any safer than this.”
“…Can I come?”
“Okay, sure. Why not? Although I have to warn you, you’ll have to put up with me...”
oOo
Mikaela looked at the biologist with both amusement and bemusement. He was currently kneeling on the ground, poking through the leaf litter with a twig and mumbling happily to himself. He’d stopped trying to actually talk to Mikaela half an hour back, when it had become clear that she didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about and didn’t really care all that much. It was nice to just get out and enjoy the change of pace and scenery, for her.
And it really was incredibly gorgeous. The canopy above them was chaotic with noises filtering down to them in the half-dark of the forest floor, and the chaotic welter of life around them was nearly overwhelming.
Of course, not everything was so nice. The six-inch centipede-poisonous, Keats had informed her-that he’d unearthed had nearly been enough to send her straight back to the camp for a long, scalding-hot shower. Really, though, she was glad she’d decided to stay. She’d needed this.
…though apparently not as badly as Keats. He was grinning, widely, at everything and nothing, apparently just for the sheer joy of life, and biology.
“Isn’t this great?” he said happily, looking over at Mikaela.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling back. It really, really was. She’d wanted to travel for the excitement, before-well, before. Before she’d met Sam, Bee, the rest of the Autobots, Maggie and Glen, the Secretary of Defense, the agents of Sector 7, the Decepticons… Before she’d saved the world, before she’d risked her life, before she said ‘okay’ and got in the car. Before aliens had tried to kill her. Before. And now here she was, in the Amazon Rainforest, about as exotic a location as she could imagine, her stay being paid for by the government because of her boyfriend’s car. And she was getting to watch the world being saved-again-although from something considerably less dramatic than giant transforming robots with plans to turn every mechanical item on earth into evil human-killing machines. Alive ones.
Yes, it was funny how things changed.
“What are you looking at?” she said, moving forward.
“Some kind of mushroom,” said Keats after a minute or so. “Here, come look.”
Mikaela did, although she decided to hold off on actually kneeling on the damp, no doubt insect-ridden leaf mould of the forest floor. “Cool,” she said as she peered at the thing, and meant it. Maybe the biologists and botanists were catching, but she’d never thought that she’d find fungus interesting. The delicate umbrella-shapes this one had formed in bright maroon red were actively pretty, though.
The sudden sound of an engine made her look up then straighten out of the crouch she’d settled into to look at the mushrooms, scanning the dense foliage surrounding them for the source of the engine.
Keats slowly stood up behind her. “What?” he asked.
“I can hear an engine,” she said shortly.
“Oh. I can’t, but I’m partially deaf.”
“Really?” said Mikaela, half-turning to look at him with surprise. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, you wouldn’t-it’s hardly something that would’ve come up.”
“That’s a good point. -I can’t hear the engine anymore.”
Keats shrugged his shoulders, eyes wandering slowly back towards the forest floor.
Mikaela turned her eyes back to where she thought the sound had been coming from-not that it was easy to tell, with all the trees and rotting organic matter and wet to block the sound-just in time to catch a sports car, incongruously clean (it was silver-toned) and its smooth, flowing, aerodynamic lines in sharp contrast to the organic tangle surrounding them. A blank-faced man with a moustache seemed to be driving it. Mikaela screamed, high and short and sharp, and flung herself instinctively backwards, sending her crashing into Keats, who gave a short, hoarse cry of pain as his bruised back was suddenly hit with a flailing teenaged girl.
The hologram in the driver’s seat disappeared, staticking out of existence. “Are… Are you okay?” said Nimbus’ voice uneasily.
Mikaela let out a gasp of involuntary relief, the tension suddenly draining out of her previously stiff form.
“Ow,” said Keats from behind her, fervently.
“Nimbus,” said Mikaela, voice relieved if not relaxed, not even neutral.
“Oh. Hello,” said Keats, pulling himself upright. “Good lord, Mikaela, do you have lead bones or something? You weigh a ton. (1)”
Mikaela looked torn between indignation and apprehension. “You’re on patrol?” she said, hesitantly, after a minute, slight worry winning out.
“Yes,” he said simply. There was a long pause-Keats seemed to have picked up on Mikaela’s edgy mood.
“It’s hazardous here alone,” said Nimbus abruptly.
Mikaela sighed, cutting him off before he could finish. “Before you start dragging out examples and graphic stories, I’ll have you know it’s perfectly safe,” said Mikaela tiredly. “I swear, you’re all alike when it comes to human capabilities-Bee seems to think that we’re going to die a violent, bloody death every time we get into a car that’s not him, certainly. And Ratchet-don’t get me started. Seriously, a walk in the woods isn’t going to kill anyone.”
“Although if there was a forest that could do it, this would probably be right up there,” said Keats. “And thank you for your concern-Nimbus, right?”
“Yeah,” said Mikaela.
“Yes,” confirmed the Transformer. “And Mikaela, I’m not sure you’re aware of the potential dangers out here. First and foremost, there’s the infected figs.”
“I’ve already gotten the safety lecture,” said Keats brightly. “And I’ve got a radio tuned to Autobot and army frequencies. Plus a med kit, just in case. And we shouldn’t be too much longer-we probably need to turn back in just a little while anyways-I’m probably late for work already. Oh well.”
“I could accompany you back to base,” said Nimbus hopefully, making the statement a question.
“I’d really rather spend a little bit longer out here,” said Keats wistfully. “This place is so incredible. It’s unbelievable! The sheer variety of life, the ingenuity-it’s beyond words. I could spend eternity here and never get bored, seriously.”
Mikaela vigorously nodded her agreement. She really didn’t want to accept a ride from the ex-Decepticon.
“Alright,” said Nimbus after another moment. “Be careful.”
Mikaela snorted loudly.
oOo
“I can’t believe I sprained my ankle,” Mikaela said, head buried in her hands. She was sitting on a convenient rock while Keats did his best to get it bandaged up.
“At least it’s not broken?” said Keats after a minute-he had paused to take the tail end of a bandage out of his mouth, where he’d been holding it out of the way. “Because that would be really bad. Or you could have broken something else-your arm, for example, or your leg. Or you could have severe internal bleeding. Or be spouting blood from some important artery or another-and I, for one, would really rather go my whole life without dealing with a life-threatening wound.”
“I’d really rather go my whole life without getting one,” said Mikaela with a sigh, “but the way things are going it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to manage it. Maybe I should aim for my 18th birthday.”
“Excuse me,” said a voice, too soft for her to be able to tell whose it was, from what sounded like a little ways away. Mikaela gasped and jumped, almost kicking Keats in the face.
“Oh my God,” she gasped out.
“I’m sorry,” the voice said, a little louder and clearer this time. The speaker sounded like he honestly meant the apology.
“Nimbus?” asked Keats, head cocked to one side.
“Yes,” he affirmed, pulling carefully out of the patch of brush he’d been in until they could see him.
“…were you following us?” asked Mikaela suspiciously.
“Not much,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “But it’s a hazardous situation, and I didn’t want you to be too far away from help if something went wrong…”
Mikaela winced, brought one expressive hand up to her face.
“That’s kind of creepy,” said Keats quietly.
“I’m sorry,” said Nimbus again. “I’ll go.” He backed up a little ways, then hesitated again.
“Can I at least assist you back to the base, Mikaela?” he asked. Mikaela had the distinct sense that he was looking over his shoulder at her, despite the fact that he currently had no shoulder to look over.
She sighed. It wouldn’t do her ankle any favors to walk back. “I probably should,” she said reluctantly, but she made no move to stand and didn’t give a more definitive answer.
The silver car moved closer to her and the scientist, waiting a short second to check their reaction before popping open the passenger-side door-something like an invitation to get in, or a request, Mikaela had learned from a long time spent with Bee.
“Would you like to come too?” she said to Keats, turning to face him even as she kept the corner of one eye on the Autobot behind her. She tried to say ‘Please, please don’t leave me alone with the ex-Decepticon’ with her eyes as she did so.
“Um,” said Keats, swallowing a little. “Okay?”
After a few seconds the car pulled forward a little more. There was another pause.
“I can’t get up without some help,” said Mikaela finally.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” said Keats instantly. “Sorry. Okay, here we go.”
Slowly, he helped her over to the now-apparently-inert vehicle. Carefully, she eased herself into the front seat. As she sat down the opened door swung shut, the door to the back seat opening to let in Keats. Mikaela fought back a shiver, not that it would really help-the Autobots could be unnervingly aware of the state of their passengers, something that freaked her out when she was riding in (with?) any of them-well, who wasn’t Bee, basically.
The first few minutes of the trip were deathly silent, with only the (very) faint hum of the engine and the brush of leaves and scrape of branches against the windows and sides of the car.
“Thank you,” said Keats at last, probably mostly because he just couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“It’s nothing,” said Nimbus simply. Keats jumped at the way that the voice filled the car, something Mikaela could sympathize with-it was always unnerving at first, and even she wasn’t entirely used to it; Bumblebee’s voice was still pretty come-and-go, and the radio clips he used instead were considerably less disconcerting.
“…Were you finished with your patrol?” said Mikaela at last.
“Yes,” said Nimbus, his voice-medium-low for a human male, and with a remarkably gentle quality, something that was, surprisingly, almost soft-still quiet.
“Oh,” she said. Yes, that made sense.
Keats was looking intently out the windows as they slowly made their way through the jungle, bouncing as the seat was jostled by the rough terrain they were on.
“See anything interesting?” asked Mikaela, leaning over to look out as well.
“Everything,” he said, wistful. “The next chance I have to use some vacation time, I’m coming back, definitely. This is incredible.”
It was very pretty, Mikaela thought, but she still failed to see where the huge appeal in looking over samples of some 400 species of nearly-identical brown beetle was.
Mikaela hissed sharply as her ankle was jolted as Nimbus jerked suddenly, hitting another pothole. Besides her, Keats yelped as he smacked his head into the side of the car.
“Are you okay?” said Nimbus instantly, voice concerned and a little bit nervous.
“Yes,” said Mikaela, echoed a second later by Keats. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
There was what seemed like another long silence but, Mikaela thought, it was probably pretty short. It just felt like an eternity. She was still feeling distinctly nervous.
She was relieved when they finally came to a large wall, the one surrounding the camp. they turned right and followed it a short distance, until they came to a guarded gate, large enough to let in cars. It wasn’t the main entrance she’d been through coming into the camp or leaving that morning, with Keats.
Nimbus pulled to a stop just before the gate, and a slightly nervous-looking soldier walked a little closer to inspect the car, looking a bit oddly at Keats and, especially, Mikaela. He saluted after he was done, then walked back to small guard station. A second later the gate started to rise. Nimbus waited patiently until it was far enough up that he wouldn’t catch on the bottom and then a little bit longer before driving through. He turned left after he went through, then right and then right again, heading through utterly deserted little alleys formed by the maze of buildings that made up the complex, most of them abandoned and unused.
They finally came to a larger building, towering far above the rest of them, forming a dead end around an incongruous curve that both of the humans had assumed would reveal a short stretch of road like all the others had. As they approached a section of wall slid up, revealing the rest of the Autobots and the scientists inside it. Nimbus pulled smoothly inside, stopping a little ways away from the door as it slid shut behind them. The doors opened and Mikaela and Keats stepped out. They were greeted by stares and the full and total attention of the entire room, humans and mechs alike.
There was a loud clicking and Bumblebee stepped forward, cannons flipping out and pointed directly at the car. Nimbus didn’t transform. Carefully, Keats and Mikaela inched to the side.
There was a brief burst of Cybertronian, utterly incomprehensible to the two humans, overlaid with a staticky quality Mikaela had learned to associate with Bee’s voice, especially when he was speaking in the more challenging tones of his native tongue.
Across the room, Landslide flipped out his own weapons, followed shortly by Ironhide.
“Stand down,” said Optimus Prime, his voice absolute, leaving no room for doubt or compromise. “Now.”
There was a slow, reluctant flurry of clicking and whirring, Bee moving last to put his guns away.
“Mikaela?” he said, voice a question.
“I sprained my ankle,” she said, by way of explanation. “I went with Keats on his walk, there was a stupid accident, Nimbus offered us a ride back and here I am.”
Bumblebee relaxed slightly.
“That sounds suspicious to me,” said Landslide loudly. “I think we should shoot him.”
“I’ll do it,” offered Ironhide immediately.
“I really don’t see what the problem is,” said Solarity.
Gyro said something in a brief crackle of Cybertronian, just barely managing to finish with a straight face before collapsing with laughter again.
“Science!” yelled Irene from the corner. “As in, science is what I am trying to do. Y’all can threaten to shoot each other and whatnot some other time. And Keats is late, so it’s not like we’ve got people to spare.”
“I’m coming!” Keats shouted back at her. “Sorry…”
“Oh. Hey, Keats,” she said, looking up again and blinking slightly in his direction.
“Off in your own world again, huh, Irene?” said Kristine.
“My apologies, Nimbus,” said Optimus, voice still stern but gentler than it had been, slightly calmer. “Bumblebee, threatening your fellow Autobots is a serious offense.” Ratchet snickered slightly. “-Ironhide aside, it’s not something I can overlook,” Optimus continued. “Once we’ve finished with this situation, there will be a punishment detail. Landslide, Ironhide, you don’t even have the excuse of being concerned about the wellbeing of a friend. The same goes for you.”
“Yes, sir,” said Bumblebee, not happy but accepting. He was echoed by Ironhide.
There was a muted grumble from Landslide.
“What was that?” barked out Ironhide, bristling at the obvious disrespect in the mech’s tone.
“Stand down, Ironhide,” said Optimus, sounding just slightly amused.
“Yes, sir,” said the weapons specialist, still bristling.
There was a brief pause.
“Landslide. Double shift patrol duty, starting immediately,” said Optimus finally.
“Yes, sir,” said Landslide, saturating the words with attitude.
“One of these days someone’s going to take you apart,” Ratchet called after his retreating back, “-and I’m not going to be the one to put you back together again.”
“Ratchet,” said Optimus.
“Not a threat, Optimus,” he replied. “Just a statement of fact.”
Gyro giggled.
“You know, I really can’t argue with that,” the leader of the Autobots said reflectively.
oOo
“Okay,” Irene said brightly, looking up from her files.
“What’s that on your face?” asked Kristine.
Irene’s expression darkened again. “Ink. My pen broke while I was chewing on it.” She paused to let Kristine finish laughing. It took a while. “Finally,” she continued. “There’s two chemicals in particular that I want to look at, and a third, fourth and fifth less so. And I’m ready to try the wind-up toys.”
“Okay,” said Kristine. “Which chemicals?”
“Here’s the papers,” Irene responded, handing them over. “The ones circled in red, with the ones with two lines the main focus. Kristine looked them over, nodding as she finished.
“Yeah, those’re weird,” she said. “They really stand out. A standard injection procedure?”
“Yep. I need to get them isolated, though, into samples…”
“Done,” said Ratchet, handing down a few small vials. One of them dropped and bounced on the hard concrete of the floor.
“Not glass, then,” said Irene. “Some sort of chemically inert plastic?”
“Yes,” Ratchet confirmed. “They’re labeled, as well.”
“Thank you. I owe you so badly right now it’s not even funny. Want to watch figs go after wind-up toys now?”
“Sure,” he said, sounding amused.
oOo
“So, how’d getting figs to go for wind-up toys instead of mice go?” asked Keats, amused.
“Wonderfully! Also, it was hilarious. I’ve got extras-want to watch some more when we have the time?”
“Well, I was thinking more in the terms of results…”
“It’s body heat and carbon dioxide,” she said. “And it’s an either-and situation. It just takes one of the two for a reaction. That’s why they go after the Autobots-presumably they didn’t plan for inorganic heat sources. I doubt they can get any nutrients from them, certainly.”
“Not movement?” said Keats, curious.
“Nope, not movement. We’re lucky-it should be pretty easy to modify something so that it keeps the reactionary by-products contained. That’d be helpful.”
“And what about those chemicals Kristine was telling me about?”
“I’ve got the set-ups finished. To start with, I’m just looking at how they interact with plants on their own, and at a few different concentrations, for the two main ones I’m interested in. Depending on the results of that, we can look at them in combination later. I’m going to bed now, though-a full night’s worth of rest sounds like it would be beyond heaven, at the moment. I’ll look at what happens in the morning, but I don’t expect anything to happen for a few days, since it took a while for the past samples to die.”
“Okay, then. Can I tell Evan and the new guy that they’re free to use this lab while we’re gone? I’m not sure what either of them thinks of the Transformers, but the main lab’s pretty much unusable at the moment, with all the decomposing animals Toni’s got in there. Here’s his latest report, while we’re at it.”
“Thanks, and feel free. I’ve hardly been here long enough to feel territorial. Oof. I’m going to read this in the morning, I think.”
“Yeah, you’ve barely been sleeping at all, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m not the one who fell asleep in the lab,” she pointed out. Keats blushed slightly. “I’ll see you later, then,” she said, turning to go. After a minute, Keats followed her. He wasn’t done working for the evening, but some dinner and a short break would do him some good.
oOo
Apparently, it had rained all night long. It was the morning now, and it was still drizzling slightly. It had made the ground pretty muddy. Extremely muddy, even. Bumblebee knew-he was currently stuck in it.
He tried to back out of it again, but it was useless. He loved Earth, really, liked the variation and had made two of his closest friends here, but sometimes he also really, really hated it.
Like now.
He gave a quick scan of the immediate area. Good. It was empty, unless the humans had perfected some really advanced shielding technology recently.
Carefully, he started his transformation process, trying to shift as it happened so he kept himself hidden behind the surrounding buildings-these were probably a good third less than his standing height. Not good for disguise purposes.
He edged forward carefully, on his knees to keep himself below visibility levels. Damn government secrecy. A quick glance behind him showed that his doors-his ‘wings,’ in Mikaela’s terms-were still above the roofs at their lowest. Double damn.
He stretched them as low as they could get, feeling the complaint in the gears-if he popped something, Ratchet was going to eat him alive. Still, it was better than getting reamed out by Optimus and the military. And causing a mass panic. And possibly revealing the presence of the Autobots to the world’s general public.
A little bit further-nope, more mud.
An alert went off and he froze. Organic presence, coming up behind him. On foot, so he had a little while, but there weren’t any turn-offs at between here and there, so he was going to run into him unless he turned back.
Bumblebee quickly analyzed the options.
Swiftly, he moved forward, ignoring how it would look highly suspicious to anyone with the right vantage point. Around the corner, like that-there. The ground was slightly drier here, at least.
The alert was still blinking at him in irritation. It should have been deactivated-
The pin dropped, and he turned around to find himself face-to-face to a small group of frozen soldiers holding coffee cups and cigarettes.
“Slag,” he muttered. Half the soldiers jumped.
“Whoah. The report wasn’t a joke,” one of them said finally.
“I told you,” said another in return. “But no, you don’t trust me. -Admittedly, I wouldn’t trust me if I said something like that…”
Bumblebee relaxed. “You’re the gate guards?” he said, hopefully. If they were, they had the right classifications. None of them had probably seen any of the Autobots out of their alt. forms, so it was possible. At least one of them had, though-he looked vaguely familiar, too. One of the ones from the first meeting with Landslide, possibly.
One of the soldiers jumped and screamed.
Oh. Apparently they hadn’t heard any of them talk before, either.
“Yes,” said the familiar one, voice casual.
He relaxed fully, although was still careful to keep below the rooflines of the buildings he was sheltered behind. “Whew,” he said. “Superior officer would’ve had my aft-er, ass-if it’d been otherwise.” A few of the soldiers laughed, startled.
“I guess some things don’t change no matter what,” said one person, voice rueful and still a little shell-shocked.
Bumblebee nodded his agreement. “Universal law-it has to be. I’m Bumblebee, by the way.”
“Much better name than NBE 2,” said the first person who’d spoken. “I’m Ben Johnson.”
“They’re still calling me that?” he said, disgruntled. The soldiers were seeming considerably more relaxed.
“I don’t think you remember me, but I’m Cahler,” said the familiar one. “You were the one with the kids when the sulky one showed up, back home.”
“I thought I recognized you…”
“That’s because he doesn’t know when to shut up,” said another soldier.
A text message from another Autobot flashed across the screen. What’s holding you up? it read, with Optimus’ Cybertronian signature accompanying it.
Nothing-just distracted, he sent back quickly.
Aloud, he said “I’m sorry-need to get going. Technically, I’m on patrol right now.”
There was a small, ragged chorus of understanding. Carefully, Bumblebee initiated the re-transformation process, still trying to keep switching parts from showing too badly above the building. he thought he’d been at least moderately successful.
“Holy shit,” breathed one of the soldiers as he settled down onto his tires, an ’08 Camaro once more, if a really muddy one.
“See you around,” he said, just to see them jump again. They did.
“Bye,” said Cahler, still sounding like he’d been pretty much unaffected.
Bumblebee just caught one of the soldiers saying “That was incredible,” as he drove away. Internally, he smirked. Yep. Second to none.
oOo
“All set?” asked Irene. She was looking over a page in a badly worn notebook. In places it looked like her pen had pressed so hard it’d gone through the paper. There were doodles interspersed through the data filling the page.
“All set,” affirmed Kristine. She was up a ladder, facing a new section of wall, already diagrammed with a light grid in pencil.
“Alright, then. Five groups: lilac 5, shell pink 4, orange cream 3, lemon ice 2 and mint green 1. The last two have three sub-groupings: 2a, 2b and 2c, and 1a, 1b and 1c. All on Day 1.”
“No colors for the subgroups?” asked Kristine.
“Nah. I’d have needed to break out of the pastels. Okay. Five plants each for each group or subgroup. Subgroup 2a: 5 milliliters solution. 2b: 10 milliliters. 2c: 20 milliliters. Subgroup 1a: 10 mils. 1b: 20 mils. 1c: 30 mils.” Irene paused long enough for Kristine to finish forming the table.
“Lilac five-one-alive. Ditto Lilac five-two, five-three and five-five. Lilac five-four-dead, but possibly a contaminated sample.”
Irene paused as she waited for Kristine to finish writing. “Shell pink four-one through four-five, all alive.” There was another pause. “Orange cream three-one-dying, but sickly to begin with. Orange cream three-two through three-five-alive.”
“Lemon ice 2, subgroup 2a, plants one and five-dying. Plant two, half dead. Plants three and four, dead. Subgroup 2b, plants six through ten, dead. Subgroup 2c, plants eleven through fifteen, dead.
“Group mint green 1, subgroup 1a, all plants excluding four alive. Plant four, alive but wilted. Subgroup 1b, plants six through ten, alive. Subgroup 1c, plants eleven through fifteen, alive.”
She waited again for Kristine to finish.
“Why do you use the colors?” asked Solarity.
“To make it easier to reference when we’re looking through the experiments,” said Irene.
“So it’s the group with chemical 2…” said Kristine contemplatively. “That’s the one with the weird carbon structure?”
“No,” said Irene. “I think your thinking of chemical 4. It’s the one with all the iron.”
“That might be explained by all the red meat.”
“I don’t know. So clearly chemical 2 is a potent toxin, but we don’t know why it’s there at all, or how it’s being affected-neutralized?-by the presence of another plant. We need another set of experiments.”
“I’ll take notes, and then find someone else to do it,” said Kristine. “Ratchet’s left the cellular analysis for you to look over, so you’re going to be busy.”
“Thanks. Okay… How do I want to do this. Okay. Keep monitoring the first set, and call it Set I-that’s in roman numerals. Set II… Four sets of plants, each one with chemical 2 plus one of the other chemicals, and one with all the chemicals mixed together. All with five plants in each set, I think.” There was a long pause as Irene thought. “That should be it for now.
“And what colors do you want?”
“Russet, burnt umber, mustard yellow, olive and mud,” she responded. “The paint’s under the table with the cobalt blue samples.”
“Okay, got it. Here’s the reports on the cellular functions.”
“Oof. Okay, time to get reading…” Irene reached over blindly with her foot, hooking it around the leg of a stool and pulling it over to her, already absorbed in the report as she sat down and flipped to a clean page in her notebook, pen back in her mouth.
Kristine shook her head. “You’re going to get ink on your face again,” she told her. Irene didn’t respond.
oOo
Continued Here
Chapter 7
[Transformers, 2007 movie] The defeat of Megatron and the defense of earth has left everyone the chance to relax a little. Now, if only that was all that was out there...
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Mikaela and Autobots, OCs. Gen, but features a little Sam/Mikaela for canon reasons.
Ratings and Warnings: OC-heavy, a very little violence and language, psuedoscience, PG-13/T for safety.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
FFnet Link
Alien: Chapter 7 part 1
Author's Notes: This chapter is Nimbus-centric, as much as there’s a focus beyond hammering out some more of the science-type details, because of Kyarorin, who’s a fan. :D
oOoOoOo
Irene bit thoughtfully at the tip of her pen as she glared thoughtfully at the trail end of the recording. She looked down at the clipboard she was holding, glare softening. She hummed thoughtfully.
“Well?” said Sam. Irene jumped slightly, then snapped her eyes up to meet his, expression obviously annoyed.
“Keats, take notes,” continued the scientist, voice raised so that Keats and Kristine could hear her. Keats was up a ladder, poised to take notes; Kristine was at the base of the ladder, stabilizing it and providing commentary. “Groups Red, Yellow and Cobalt Blue-constantly active. Light appears to have no affect on their behavior. Groups Orange and Sky Blue-crepuscular leaning towards nocturnal. Group Green-partially constantly active, partially crepuscular leaning towards nocturnal. Groups Turquoise, Purple and Violet-no movement at all. You got that?”
“Just a second,” said Keats vaguely, concentrating on the chart he was filling out. A minute later he said “Yeah. That’s the last of it.”
“All the groups with the constant activity showed up dead today,” said Kristine, voice uncharacteristically sharp and intelligent. Sam jumped slightly at the change from her usual tone: slightly clueless but essentially good-natured. “Very, very definitely dead. Frostbitten dead.”
“Frostbitten?” said Solarity curiously from overhead.
“When organic tissue freezes solid, the water that inflates the cells freezes, and the ice crystals end up puncturing all kinds of important things. It’s kind of nasty, really. People end up losing fingers, noses, toes, ears and that sort of thing to it. With plants, it essentially means that they dissolve into black mushy sludge,” said Kristine vaguely. Irene had moved from nibbling absentmindedly at her pen to chewing on it viciously as she stared at the data.
“That’s revolting,” said Landslide, voice thick with disgust, from his corner. “Organic design is so ridiculously inefficient…”
“Autobots don’t do particularly well when their fluids freeze, either,” said Ratchet mildly.
“Well, yes, but we’re not going to dissolve, and it takes temperatures a damn lot colder than freezing to do it to us.” There was obvious scorn in Landslide’s voice.
Bumblebee shifted loudly and obviously from his position in the corner.
Optimus Prime gave a loud sigh-although, some small part of Kristine’s mind realized, it was probably an adapted gesture, one that wasn’t natural to the Autobots at all, but instead had been borrowed to replace some other sort of habit, so that the humans could understand it-that was, eerily, echoed almost exactly by Irene a few seconds later.
Irene stared up in consternation at the chart above her. “Clearly, there’s something we’re missing. Something big.” Her voice was clearly irritated. “And it’s pretty obvious that it’s related to how many of the plants there are.”
Keats shivered slightly. “Communal alien mind-fungus plants,” he said, sounding torn between amusement and terror.
“Not just communal,” said Kristine. “It’s pretty clear that something about single living is actively fatal for these things. And considering how short the window on their death was, I doubt it’s loneliness that’s killing them off.”
“…‘single living’?” muttered Mikaela. Sam shook with smothered laughter.
“‘Lonely’?” he mouthed back.
“Something about how they work requires more than one plant to do something essential,” continued Irene as if she hadn’t heard a word. Her pen was looking rather the worse for wear. “Kristine, how quickly can you get someone to do an analysis of the mush that’s left over from the dead plants? One of the ones that was just left alone, not one from group Turquoise. I want data on every little thing in there that’s not present in the grouped infected plants, and everything that’s different from the uninfected plant. Priority given to the former, of course.”
“It’s going to take awhile,” said Kristine mildly. “We’ve hardly got a fully outfitted set-up here, despite the government’s best efforts. Even if we did, this isn’t the sort of thing that’s necessarily going to go quickly.”
“Damn…”
“I can do it faster than your methods can manage,” offered Ratchet from overhead.
Irene gave a perfunctory glance upwards. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t suppose you could give me an in-depth report of how the plant behaves on a cellular level, as well?”
“I can’t do both at the same time, but I know that other members of the team are outfitted for it…”
“Who?” cut in Optimus Prime.
“Solarity and Gyro have both been fitted with the basic equipment for dual-purpose field scientists or medics,” said Ratchet. “And Coldfront has perfunctory equipment, a few degrees better than what ordinary Autobots possess. He should be marginally helpful, at least.”
“Why?” said Keats, sounding baffled. “Gyro? Isn’t he the little one who’s always snickering?”
Bumblebee snorted with laughter. “Yes,” he said, over it.
“Gyro was outfitted as a spy,” said Coldfront from the other side of the room, voice raised a little, thoughtfully, so that the humans could still hear him. “And then given scientific programs and protocols as well, to back up his cover story if he was ever caught by Decepticons.”
“How do you two know each other?” asked Mikaela.
“We were temporarily on the same team, before Gyro was reassigned to a different team better able to make use of someone with his capabilities,” said Coldfront.
“We’re off-topic,” muttered Kristine.
“Would you be willing to assist?” said Irene, looking up briefly, her eyes slightly unfocused from concentrating too long at close range, making her vague stare even more unnerving than it usually was.
“Yes,” said Optimus Prime, Ratchet and Coldfront, more-or-less simultaneously.
“Ah. Thanks,” said the botanist, head clearly still up in the clouds-or down in the dirt. She continued talking, clearly to herself. “Beyond analyzing the chemical components of the plants, I want to know what’s happening inside the plants on a cellular level. If this was associated with how the plants seem to be carnivorous, that would… No, that’s a little too pat, a little too neat. I don’t like it. We’re still missing something. Combining photosynthetic and non-photosynthetic energy shouldn’t cause too many problems… I mean, there’s carnivorous plants. This isn’t something to do with autotrophs being incompatible with heterotrophs. But we still don’t know how the fungus figures into this. Gah. I need more files on how Cordyceps works. But not now. Energy, though-photosynthesis, even with the support of energy from the meat, shouldn’t give them what they need for this type of movement… Something’s missing…”
Irene looked up to find most of the room fixated on her and her mumblings. She flushed, just slightly.
“Pay attention to how the whole ATP deal seems to be working, okay?” she said finally.
“ATP?” said Sam. Mikaela shoved an elbow into his ribs.
“We covered that in biology and chemistry!” she hissed.
“Adenosine triphosphate,” said Kristine as she bustled past the two teens with copies of the new data to give to the other focus groups.
“That was spectacularly unhelpful,” said Sam.
oOo
“You don’t trust Nimbus, do you?” said Sam, quietly, to Bee. The (maybe?) reformed Decepticon was gone, still on a patrol-he seemed to prefer the Amazon rainforest to the confined quarters and suspicious reactions of the temporary Autobot base.
Bumblebee’s engine rumbled wordlessly, suddenly racing underneath Sam and Mikaela from where they sat perched on his knee.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then, you don’t trust him at all,” said Sam.
Mikaela shrugged her shoulders. “I can understand how it’s hard to trust him,” she said. “I mean, I’m pretty nervous around him myself. But at the same time I can understand what it’s like to have a history you’re not proud of. And how hard it can be to move beyond it.”
Sam squeezed her hand wordlessly. “I’m still sorry,” he said.
“Goof. You’ve already apologized. …A lot.”
“Still…”
“I understand, Sam. It was a lot to throw at you, considering what was going on, and yeah, you reacted badly when you were told that your crush’s dad was a car thief and she had helped him with it, and had a juvie record because of it. Especially when you’d just been abducted by the government because your first car turned out to be an alien.”
Bumblebee beeped good-naturedly at the two humans.
“‘Well, when you put it like that’ and all that jazz, I guess,” said Sam. “C’mere, you.” He leaned over to kiss her, one hand tangling in her hair.
“I don’t like it either,” growled Ironhide to one side of the yellow Autobot and the two kissing humans, who both jumped visibly, jerking out of their kiss.
“Ironhide,” gasped out Sam, “What did I tell you about doing that?”
“Why the slag would I know?” said the weapons expert grumpily. “It’s not like I was listening to you. It’s not like I needed to listen to you.”
Mikaela tried and failed to stifle her giggles. The hum of Bee’s engine underneath the two had taken on a distinctly amused note as well.
“Still,” continued Ironhide, head tilted in a way that seemed distinctly irritated even to the two humans, “I’ve been fighting Decepticons since the war began. I’ve been alive longer than anyone in this room, and I haven’t lived this long because of sheer dumb luck.”
“Ironhide picks up on the weirdest earth phrases,” Mikaela muttered. “Can’t manage most of them for the life of him, but others he has no problem with. I swear it’s on purpose…”
The Autobot ignored the interruption and continued talking. “And something just sits wrong with me with trusting a total stranger-a Decepticon stranger-based on nothing more than his word-”
“It was considerably more than just ‘his word,’” said Ratchet, sounding mildly insulted. “It’s not like I’m some nothing rookie who wouldn’t know an active subroutine if it came up and bit him.”
“Why does everyone feel the need to have their say while I’m talking?” growled Ironhide. “As I was saying, we have no reason to trust this-” he broke off briefly into Cybertronian and Bumblebee snickered. Sam and Mikaela winced as a few of the higher notes vibrated their way into their teeth. “-around everyone here. The only reason I haven’t shot him is because Bumblebee hasn’t, and he’s the one with the most to lose in this situation.”
“So… You’re saying that you trust his judgment when it comes to this…?” said Sam doubtfully.
“No, I’m saying that if anyone gets to dismember the punk, it’s him.”
“Oh.” Yes, that did seem considerably more in-character for the Autobot, on reflection.
“It’s probably for the best that Optimus is gone,” said Mikaela reflectively.
Bumblebee made a noise that closely resembled an irritated growl. “It isn’t safe to have him here. Especially considering the situation. Of course, I’m not sure I’d trust Landslide behind my back in a fight any more than an ex-Decepticon…”
There was a loud grunt from Landslide’s corner in response. Mikaela and Sam collapsed against each other, overcome with giggles.
Landslide continued speaking after a minute, when there were no other responses. “Little-” he switched briefly to Cybertronian “-is going to end up killing someone, maiming someone or fucking something up. One of the humans, if we’re lucky.”
Bumblebee probably would have gone for the beige vehicle’s throat if it hadn’t been for the presence of the two humans sitting on him. As things were, he settled for muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath in Cybertronian and flashing his newly-prepped gun at the Autobot pointedly.
“And Landslide,” continued Ironhide, as if the Autobot he was speaking about hadn’t just spoken and wasn’t, in fact, in the room at all. “The damned Decepticon is bad enough, but I’d rather be stuck with him than with Landslide. Doesn’t know when to shut up, doesn’t know when to give up, doesn’t know enough to re-evaluate his damned opinions-if we were back closer towards the beginning of the war, I’d say he should stay towards the back when everyone’s heading into battle, because with a personality like that there’s going to be an accident where someone ends up, say, shooting him in the back-‘because of nerves or the confusion of the situation, of course, looked like a Decepticon coming down on me, sir, I swear.’ Of course, that’s not going to happen with so few of us here…” Ironhide sounded actively disappointed.
Sam winced, then scrambled to his feet, bracing himself against his best friend, craning to look over towards the other side of the room. Landslide appeared to have gone to sleep.
“Whoah,” he said, on general principle. Even when you spent a lot of time around them, giant robots got kind of unnerving when they were threatening each other with friendly-fire deaths on the battlefield. And/or talking about how much they hated humans.
After a few minutes, Solarity started speaking. “I don’t know,” he said. “Ratchet said he wasn’t lying, and we don’t know his reasons for switching sides. Whatever it was, it must have been something. But he seems decent enough, and he’s trying at least, and he’s friendlier than Landslide is to humans and Autobots both…” He trailed off, looking off into space, the other Autobots copying him-even the ‘asleep’ Landslide.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked Bee quietly after a minute.
“Nothing,” said the yellow mech. “Just a transmission. Optimus is coming back from patrol, and wanted to make sure things were going according to regulation. Just a regular check-in.”
“What do you think, Coldfront?” asked Solarity as the Autobot door to the building opened up, allowing the transformed Prime to drive in.
“It is not my position to say,” said the robot stiffly.
“What?” said Ratchet, sounding patently confused.
“Because a commanding officer has already made a decision, it would be insubordinate of me to question the matter, and disrespectful to give my opinion the same importance as theirs.” Coldfront’s words were nearly covered up to Sam and Mikaela’s ears by the clicking and whirring of Optimus’ transformation
There was dead silence.
“…What sort of commanding officer did you have?” said Solarity disbelievingly.
Optimus sighed heavily.
Coldfront, he sent silently to the Autobot. I don’t think you understand the situation here. As far as we know, we could be the only Autobots left alive. Until more Decepticons arrive, there is no active fighting going on. The hierarchy is going to be considerably looser than it usually is, and from what I can tell, what you’re used to is a lot stricter than is normal. You’re going to have to adjust.
My apologies, sir, Coldfront sent back.
That’s… I think you’re still missing the point. It is not necessary to refer to me as ‘sir’ when we are not acting as an army unit. ‘Optimus’ is fine. I’m not going to punish you for having opinions or voicing them. Even for acting on them without permission, much of the time, especially not when it’s something like helping out the science branch. You’re not going to be reprimanded for anything short of getting arrested or causing mass amounts of property damage with no good excuse. As long as nobody ends up dead, the punishment will probably not be all that severe.
Yes… Coldfront’s message trailed off, the Autobot clearly having trouble with his new orders. Optimus Prime. he finished.
Close enough, said the Autobot leader finally.
When Optimus turned his attention back to the verbal conversation it had shifted onto how Sam was going to deal with his mother when he got back home.
“Seriously. She’s going to freak out-she reads National Geographic, and it only makes her more paranoid about rainforests than she would be normally. I swear she knows more about the parasites you can pick up in these sorts of places than anyone short of a specialist.”
“I dated a biologist who was specializing in parasites, once,” said Irene-she’d paused in the doorway as she’d been walking in to catch the tail end of the conversation without interrupting. “It didn’t last.”
“Urgh,” said Mikaela feelingly. Sam was inclined to agree.
“Yeah, that should have been my reaction when I was asked out.”
“So, there’s a lot of species that parasitize humans?” said Solarity curiously. “What sort of effects do they have? Historically, before your medicine and hygiene improved, how did you survive that sort of thing? What counts as a negative value when it comes romantic involvement in social terms? And what’s the deal with your mother, Sam?”
“Uh…” said Sam.
Irene laughed.
“More things than I can name parasitize people, including some particularly nasty ones,” said Irene. “Various affects, up to and including death. On the other hand, it can be something like leeches, which are just kind of gross-although they are used for medicinal purposes every so often, so I suppose that that could be your point of view. It depends on what sort of parasite it is, when it comes to effect. I mean, bot fly larvae in your head aren’t going to have the same effect as a tapeworm in your gut. Historically speaking-I’d read up on malaria, if you’re interested at all. It’s pretty fascinating stuff.
“Plusses and minuses in dating… Whooo, that’s a big one. To partially answer your question, the problem with dating someone who knows a lot about parasites and, in fact, works and studies them for a living, is that they are liable to talk about it. And listening to that sort of thing goes beyond creepy for most people.”
Mikaela nodded fervently.
“And I’ve never met Sam’s mother so you’ll have to ask him about her, but from what I heard it sounds as if she’s fairly over-protective.”
Sam sighed. “Mom has a-forceful personality. That’s a good way to put it. Did I tell you she went after a secret government agent with a baseball bat?”
Irene bit her lip, holding back a laugh. “Amusing as I’m sure that anecdote is, I’ve got to get back to work,” she said. “Lots of data left to analyze, you know.” She paused for a minute, starting to frown slightly, deep in thought.
And didn’t move, long enough that it was obvious.
“Irene?” said Evan’s voice hesitantly from behind her.
“We never did figure out what was alerting them to prey,” she said thoughtfully.
“Uh, no, we didn’t,” said Evan. He shot a nervous glance at the ring of Autobots looking down at the tangle of humans. He shot an even more nervous glance at Irene as she slowly started smiling.
“Hey, Evan, did you ever have any of those little wind-up toys when you were younger?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“That was supposed to be an answer, not a question!” barked out Irene, unexpectedly enough to make all the other humans jump. In the distance, Mikaela thought that she could hear Gyro giggling again.
“Sorry, ma’am!” yelped Evan.
“Hah. I figured you still had that reaction. I keep on telling Marie that scaring the spit out of her students doesn’t work for everyone, but she doesn’t listen.”
“No, -Irene, it’s just that it’s an honor to work with you and with everyone else-it was your essay on ferns that made me decide on botany, really, instead of marine biology-and everyone else… The people here are the best at this sort of thing, some of the most genius minds there are, and I’m still a grad student, really-”
“Evan,” said Irene kindly, “Ninety percent of all actual science done is by grad students, they just don’t usually get credit for it. Now, about the wind-up mice. How easy do you think it would be to alter them slightly?”
“Actually, I could probably help with that as well…” said Ratchet above them.
Irene whooped loudly. Bumblebee covered up a laugh.
“…And I have the data you requested here. I wasn’t able to locate some of the chemicals found in the samples in your databases-and they weren’t all from the infected ones-so I listed comparable ones. Most of it is very basic, but there are a few that-aren’t. Of course, this depends on accurate information being provided by your government. Our own files on biomolecules fall woefully short.”
“Thank you,” said Irene fervently. “I’d offer you my firstborn child-that’s the tradition, if I remember correctly-but I doubt you’d have any need of it. And it’s likely to be a while in coming. Kids scare the shit out of me. Scare me almost as much as childbirth, actually.”
Half the Autobots seemed to be running online searches to try to figure out the cultural significance of giving away your children.
“Um, I think that Irene just doesn’t make that much sense most of the time,” said Mikaela after a minute.
“Oooh, she’s quick,” said Irene approvingly. “Catches on fast. You ever consider a career in the sciences?” Evan looked torn between amusement and disapproval.
“I was thinking engineering,” said Mikaela automatically.
Irene sighed. “Never did understand mechanically-minded people, myself. The natural world is just so incredibly wonderfully and utterly fascinating.” She paused and looked around the room. “No offense intended, of course,” she added.
“Here’s the data,” said Ratchet finally, reaching down to hand her a small object that somehow seemed to ooze the sense that it was incredibly complex, advanced technology.
“Thanks,” said the botanist, looking at the thing in her hands with a single eyebrow raised expressively. “But do you know if it’s compatible with Windows XP?”
oOo
“It’s for the best, really, that it looks like these things die after you cut them off at the base,” said Irene, a scalpel held delicately poised over the now-still-and-wilted mass of greenery in front of her. “This would be much harder, otherwise.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be analyzing data?” said Kristine, looking up from where she was bent over a sheaf of papers a table over from the botanist.
“Yes, but I need a break. And what better way to do it than by shredding evil alien plant life?”
“Why do you keep on using the term ‘alien’? For all we know, this is just the next step in Cordyceps evolution-it’s just been brewing for a while, deep in the Amazon rainforest, its presence utterly unknown…”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s aggressively carnivorous. You read the reports about what happened in that village. No, this is nothing like anything we’ve seen before, except for a tenuous connection to Cordyceps. Which, true, alters the behavior of its prey, but not like this. Some more poking through those papers will reveal something, if we’re lucky, but no, this doesn’t match up. So it must be aliens.”
“…Your logic processes are frightening.”
“Psh. Stuff and nonsense! What’s really frightening are my unlogic processes.”
“You want me to ask, don’t you? Because then you’d get to answer me. Well, I refuse to play your petty games…”
“Damn, you’ve caught on to me.”
“Still, why would you think it’s alien in nature?”
“Oh, I don’t know. My mind’s just been a little more open to the apparently unfeasible lately.”
“I’d blame the Alice books, if I were you. You know-ten impossible things before breakfast and all that. It’s coming across in your speech.”
“While I freely admit to having communed with my childhood by rereading Through the Looking Glass and Alice in Wonderland pretty recently, I think it has more to do with the thirty foot tall giant robots than anything else.”
“Checkmate, I suppose.”
“You suppose right-hey, Evan!”
“Yes, M-Irene?”
“Don’t call me Ms. Gray, and after you finish up that, I won’t need any more of your help. Thank you very much, though-I really appreciate having you look over that for me. I always like a second eye to read through, and other than Professor Curtis you’re the only one with the right qualifications.”
Evan was blushing red enough that, Kristine thought privately, it looked like he was going to combust.
“Also, I think that the Secretary of Defense was saying something about how it would be good to have one of the botanists work with the mycologist-his name’s Cleve, right? Charles Cleve-poor man-so that there was a cluster group that was qualified on both sides of the equation. I thought you’d be a good choice, if you’re interested, since your work’s pretty much stalled right now.”
“No, no, I’d be happy too,” muttered Evan, looking highly embarrassed.
“…Is everything okay?” said Irene after a minute.
“I’m, uh, just kind of overwhelmed that the Secretary of Defense knows who I am,” said the younger botanist.
“You get used to that,” said Sam.
“Kind of,” said Mikaela.
oOo
“Hey,” said Mikaela agreeably to Keats, the only other person in the room, as she walked in with her breakfast, a cheap packaged muffin. The food was questionable on the temporary base.
“Hello,” he replied. “You’re up early.”
“Not as early as you,” she pointed out. “But I just couldn’t sleep. The beds here aren’t very comfortable.”
“Sam’s still asleep, then?”
“I guess so. He’s having trouble sleeping too, but that just means that he gets up at ten instead of noon.”
Keats laughed. “I remember when I was that age! I either couldn’t sleep at all, or even think about it, I was so wide-awake, or I could do nothing but. And it seemed to have very little to do with what time it was, except when it was in inverse relation to what I was supposed to be doing.”
Mikaela laughed as well. It was a pretty accurate summation. “So, you’ve got more experiments, right? It’s the only reason I can imagine getting up this early.”
Keats grinned sheepishly. “Actually, no. I got up so early so I could talk a walk before I have to do all the science. I haven’t had a break other than eating or sleeping for days, and I really needed it. Plus, I don’t think I could live with myself if I spent time in the Amazon Rainforest and never even set foot in the forest proper.” The emphasis he put on ‘Amazon Rainforest’ somehow managed to convey the sense that it was, approximately, equivalent to setting foot in Heaven for business and not taking the time to have a look around.
“Is it safe?”
“It’s well within the patrol ranges, and none of the Autobots have reported any signs of infected plants,” said Keats. “And neither have the regular human patrols. And Keller made me bring along a radio with dials set to both regular army frequencies and the ones the robots use. It probably doesn’t get any safer than this.”
“…Can I come?”
“Okay, sure. Why not? Although I have to warn you, you’ll have to put up with me...”
oOo
Mikaela looked at the biologist with both amusement and bemusement. He was currently kneeling on the ground, poking through the leaf litter with a twig and mumbling happily to himself. He’d stopped trying to actually talk to Mikaela half an hour back, when it had become clear that she didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about and didn’t really care all that much. It was nice to just get out and enjoy the change of pace and scenery, for her.
And it really was incredibly gorgeous. The canopy above them was chaotic with noises filtering down to them in the half-dark of the forest floor, and the chaotic welter of life around them was nearly overwhelming.
Of course, not everything was so nice. The six-inch centipede-poisonous, Keats had informed her-that he’d unearthed had nearly been enough to send her straight back to the camp for a long, scalding-hot shower. Really, though, she was glad she’d decided to stay. She’d needed this.
…though apparently not as badly as Keats. He was grinning, widely, at everything and nothing, apparently just for the sheer joy of life, and biology.
“Isn’t this great?” he said happily, looking over at Mikaela.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling back. It really, really was. She’d wanted to travel for the excitement, before-well, before. Before she’d met Sam, Bee, the rest of the Autobots, Maggie and Glen, the Secretary of Defense, the agents of Sector 7, the Decepticons… Before she’d saved the world, before she’d risked her life, before she said ‘okay’ and got in the car. Before aliens had tried to kill her. Before. And now here she was, in the Amazon Rainforest, about as exotic a location as she could imagine, her stay being paid for by the government because of her boyfriend’s car. And she was getting to watch the world being saved-again-although from something considerably less dramatic than giant transforming robots with plans to turn every mechanical item on earth into evil human-killing machines. Alive ones.
Yes, it was funny how things changed.
“What are you looking at?” she said, moving forward.
“Some kind of mushroom,” said Keats after a minute or so. “Here, come look.”
Mikaela did, although she decided to hold off on actually kneeling on the damp, no doubt insect-ridden leaf mould of the forest floor. “Cool,” she said as she peered at the thing, and meant it. Maybe the biologists and botanists were catching, but she’d never thought that she’d find fungus interesting. The delicate umbrella-shapes this one had formed in bright maroon red were actively pretty, though.
The sudden sound of an engine made her look up then straighten out of the crouch she’d settled into to look at the mushrooms, scanning the dense foliage surrounding them for the source of the engine.
Keats slowly stood up behind her. “What?” he asked.
“I can hear an engine,” she said shortly.
“Oh. I can’t, but I’m partially deaf.”
“Really?” said Mikaela, half-turning to look at him with surprise. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, you wouldn’t-it’s hardly something that would’ve come up.”
“That’s a good point. -I can’t hear the engine anymore.”
Keats shrugged his shoulders, eyes wandering slowly back towards the forest floor.
Mikaela turned her eyes back to where she thought the sound had been coming from-not that it was easy to tell, with all the trees and rotting organic matter and wet to block the sound-just in time to catch a sports car, incongruously clean (it was silver-toned) and its smooth, flowing, aerodynamic lines in sharp contrast to the organic tangle surrounding them. A blank-faced man with a moustache seemed to be driving it. Mikaela screamed, high and short and sharp, and flung herself instinctively backwards, sending her crashing into Keats, who gave a short, hoarse cry of pain as his bruised back was suddenly hit with a flailing teenaged girl.
The hologram in the driver’s seat disappeared, staticking out of existence. “Are… Are you okay?” said Nimbus’ voice uneasily.
Mikaela let out a gasp of involuntary relief, the tension suddenly draining out of her previously stiff form.
“Ow,” said Keats from behind her, fervently.
“Nimbus,” said Mikaela, voice relieved if not relaxed, not even neutral.
“Oh. Hello,” said Keats, pulling himself upright. “Good lord, Mikaela, do you have lead bones or something? You weigh a ton. (1)”
Mikaela looked torn between indignation and apprehension. “You’re on patrol?” she said, hesitantly, after a minute, slight worry winning out.
“Yes,” he said simply. There was a long pause-Keats seemed to have picked up on Mikaela’s edgy mood.
“It’s hazardous here alone,” said Nimbus abruptly.
Mikaela sighed, cutting him off before he could finish. “Before you start dragging out examples and graphic stories, I’ll have you know it’s perfectly safe,” said Mikaela tiredly. “I swear, you’re all alike when it comes to human capabilities-Bee seems to think that we’re going to die a violent, bloody death every time we get into a car that’s not him, certainly. And Ratchet-don’t get me started. Seriously, a walk in the woods isn’t going to kill anyone.”
“Although if there was a forest that could do it, this would probably be right up there,” said Keats. “And thank you for your concern-Nimbus, right?”
“Yeah,” said Mikaela.
“Yes,” confirmed the Transformer. “And Mikaela, I’m not sure you’re aware of the potential dangers out here. First and foremost, there’s the infected figs.”
“I’ve already gotten the safety lecture,” said Keats brightly. “And I’ve got a radio tuned to Autobot and army frequencies. Plus a med kit, just in case. And we shouldn’t be too much longer-we probably need to turn back in just a little while anyways-I’m probably late for work already. Oh well.”
“I could accompany you back to base,” said Nimbus hopefully, making the statement a question.
“I’d really rather spend a little bit longer out here,” said Keats wistfully. “This place is so incredible. It’s unbelievable! The sheer variety of life, the ingenuity-it’s beyond words. I could spend eternity here and never get bored, seriously.”
Mikaela vigorously nodded her agreement. She really didn’t want to accept a ride from the ex-Decepticon.
“Alright,” said Nimbus after another moment. “Be careful.”
Mikaela snorted loudly.
oOo
“I can’t believe I sprained my ankle,” Mikaela said, head buried in her hands. She was sitting on a convenient rock while Keats did his best to get it bandaged up.
“At least it’s not broken?” said Keats after a minute-he had paused to take the tail end of a bandage out of his mouth, where he’d been holding it out of the way. “Because that would be really bad. Or you could have broken something else-your arm, for example, or your leg. Or you could have severe internal bleeding. Or be spouting blood from some important artery or another-and I, for one, would really rather go my whole life without dealing with a life-threatening wound.”
“I’d really rather go my whole life without getting one,” said Mikaela with a sigh, “but the way things are going it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to manage it. Maybe I should aim for my 18th birthday.”
“Excuse me,” said a voice, too soft for her to be able to tell whose it was, from what sounded like a little ways away. Mikaela gasped and jumped, almost kicking Keats in the face.
“Oh my God,” she gasped out.
“I’m sorry,” the voice said, a little louder and clearer this time. The speaker sounded like he honestly meant the apology.
“Nimbus?” asked Keats, head cocked to one side.
“Yes,” he affirmed, pulling carefully out of the patch of brush he’d been in until they could see him.
“…were you following us?” asked Mikaela suspiciously.
“Not much,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “But it’s a hazardous situation, and I didn’t want you to be too far away from help if something went wrong…”
Mikaela winced, brought one expressive hand up to her face.
“That’s kind of creepy,” said Keats quietly.
“I’m sorry,” said Nimbus again. “I’ll go.” He backed up a little ways, then hesitated again.
“Can I at least assist you back to the base, Mikaela?” he asked. Mikaela had the distinct sense that he was looking over his shoulder at her, despite the fact that he currently had no shoulder to look over.
She sighed. It wouldn’t do her ankle any favors to walk back. “I probably should,” she said reluctantly, but she made no move to stand and didn’t give a more definitive answer.
The silver car moved closer to her and the scientist, waiting a short second to check their reaction before popping open the passenger-side door-something like an invitation to get in, or a request, Mikaela had learned from a long time spent with Bee.
“Would you like to come too?” she said to Keats, turning to face him even as she kept the corner of one eye on the Autobot behind her. She tried to say ‘Please, please don’t leave me alone with the ex-Decepticon’ with her eyes as she did so.
“Um,” said Keats, swallowing a little. “Okay?”
After a few seconds the car pulled forward a little more. There was another pause.
“I can’t get up without some help,” said Mikaela finally.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” said Keats instantly. “Sorry. Okay, here we go.”
Slowly, he helped her over to the now-apparently-inert vehicle. Carefully, she eased herself into the front seat. As she sat down the opened door swung shut, the door to the back seat opening to let in Keats. Mikaela fought back a shiver, not that it would really help-the Autobots could be unnervingly aware of the state of their passengers, something that freaked her out when she was riding in (with?) any of them-well, who wasn’t Bee, basically.
The first few minutes of the trip were deathly silent, with only the (very) faint hum of the engine and the brush of leaves and scrape of branches against the windows and sides of the car.
“Thank you,” said Keats at last, probably mostly because he just couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“It’s nothing,” said Nimbus simply. Keats jumped at the way that the voice filled the car, something Mikaela could sympathize with-it was always unnerving at first, and even she wasn’t entirely used to it; Bumblebee’s voice was still pretty come-and-go, and the radio clips he used instead were considerably less disconcerting.
“…Were you finished with your patrol?” said Mikaela at last.
“Yes,” said Nimbus, his voice-medium-low for a human male, and with a remarkably gentle quality, something that was, surprisingly, almost soft-still quiet.
“Oh,” she said. Yes, that made sense.
Keats was looking intently out the windows as they slowly made their way through the jungle, bouncing as the seat was jostled by the rough terrain they were on.
“See anything interesting?” asked Mikaela, leaning over to look out as well.
“Everything,” he said, wistful. “The next chance I have to use some vacation time, I’m coming back, definitely. This is incredible.”
It was very pretty, Mikaela thought, but she still failed to see where the huge appeal in looking over samples of some 400 species of nearly-identical brown beetle was.
Mikaela hissed sharply as her ankle was jolted as Nimbus jerked suddenly, hitting another pothole. Besides her, Keats yelped as he smacked his head into the side of the car.
“Are you okay?” said Nimbus instantly, voice concerned and a little bit nervous.
“Yes,” said Mikaela, echoed a second later by Keats. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
There was what seemed like another long silence but, Mikaela thought, it was probably pretty short. It just felt like an eternity. She was still feeling distinctly nervous.
She was relieved when they finally came to a large wall, the one surrounding the camp. they turned right and followed it a short distance, until they came to a guarded gate, large enough to let in cars. It wasn’t the main entrance she’d been through coming into the camp or leaving that morning, with Keats.
Nimbus pulled to a stop just before the gate, and a slightly nervous-looking soldier walked a little closer to inspect the car, looking a bit oddly at Keats and, especially, Mikaela. He saluted after he was done, then walked back to small guard station. A second later the gate started to rise. Nimbus waited patiently until it was far enough up that he wouldn’t catch on the bottom and then a little bit longer before driving through. He turned left after he went through, then right and then right again, heading through utterly deserted little alleys formed by the maze of buildings that made up the complex, most of them abandoned and unused.
They finally came to a larger building, towering far above the rest of them, forming a dead end around an incongruous curve that both of the humans had assumed would reveal a short stretch of road like all the others had. As they approached a section of wall slid up, revealing the rest of the Autobots and the scientists inside it. Nimbus pulled smoothly inside, stopping a little ways away from the door as it slid shut behind them. The doors opened and Mikaela and Keats stepped out. They were greeted by stares and the full and total attention of the entire room, humans and mechs alike.
There was a loud clicking and Bumblebee stepped forward, cannons flipping out and pointed directly at the car. Nimbus didn’t transform. Carefully, Keats and Mikaela inched to the side.
There was a brief burst of Cybertronian, utterly incomprehensible to the two humans, overlaid with a staticky quality Mikaela had learned to associate with Bee’s voice, especially when he was speaking in the more challenging tones of his native tongue.
Across the room, Landslide flipped out his own weapons, followed shortly by Ironhide.
“Stand down,” said Optimus Prime, his voice absolute, leaving no room for doubt or compromise. “Now.”
There was a slow, reluctant flurry of clicking and whirring, Bee moving last to put his guns away.
“Mikaela?” he said, voice a question.
“I sprained my ankle,” she said, by way of explanation. “I went with Keats on his walk, there was a stupid accident, Nimbus offered us a ride back and here I am.”
Bumblebee relaxed slightly.
“That sounds suspicious to me,” said Landslide loudly. “I think we should shoot him.”
“I’ll do it,” offered Ironhide immediately.
“I really don’t see what the problem is,” said Solarity.
Gyro said something in a brief crackle of Cybertronian, just barely managing to finish with a straight face before collapsing with laughter again.
“Science!” yelled Irene from the corner. “As in, science is what I am trying to do. Y’all can threaten to shoot each other and whatnot some other time. And Keats is late, so it’s not like we’ve got people to spare.”
“I’m coming!” Keats shouted back at her. “Sorry…”
“Oh. Hey, Keats,” she said, looking up again and blinking slightly in his direction.
“Off in your own world again, huh, Irene?” said Kristine.
“My apologies, Nimbus,” said Optimus, voice still stern but gentler than it had been, slightly calmer. “Bumblebee, threatening your fellow Autobots is a serious offense.” Ratchet snickered slightly. “-Ironhide aside, it’s not something I can overlook,” Optimus continued. “Once we’ve finished with this situation, there will be a punishment detail. Landslide, Ironhide, you don’t even have the excuse of being concerned about the wellbeing of a friend. The same goes for you.”
“Yes, sir,” said Bumblebee, not happy but accepting. He was echoed by Ironhide.
There was a muted grumble from Landslide.
“What was that?” barked out Ironhide, bristling at the obvious disrespect in the mech’s tone.
“Stand down, Ironhide,” said Optimus, sounding just slightly amused.
“Yes, sir,” said the weapons specialist, still bristling.
There was a brief pause.
“Landslide. Double shift patrol duty, starting immediately,” said Optimus finally.
“Yes, sir,” said Landslide, saturating the words with attitude.
“One of these days someone’s going to take you apart,” Ratchet called after his retreating back, “-and I’m not going to be the one to put you back together again.”
“Ratchet,” said Optimus.
“Not a threat, Optimus,” he replied. “Just a statement of fact.”
Gyro giggled.
“You know, I really can’t argue with that,” the leader of the Autobots said reflectively.
oOo
“Okay,” Irene said brightly, looking up from her files.
“What’s that on your face?” asked Kristine.
Irene’s expression darkened again. “Ink. My pen broke while I was chewing on it.” She paused to let Kristine finish laughing. It took a while. “Finally,” she continued. “There’s two chemicals in particular that I want to look at, and a third, fourth and fifth less so. And I’m ready to try the wind-up toys.”
“Okay,” said Kristine. “Which chemicals?”
“Here’s the papers,” Irene responded, handing them over. “The ones circled in red, with the ones with two lines the main focus. Kristine looked them over, nodding as she finished.
“Yeah, those’re weird,” she said. “They really stand out. A standard injection procedure?”
“Yep. I need to get them isolated, though, into samples…”
“Done,” said Ratchet, handing down a few small vials. One of them dropped and bounced on the hard concrete of the floor.
“Not glass, then,” said Irene. “Some sort of chemically inert plastic?”
“Yes,” Ratchet confirmed. “They’re labeled, as well.”
“Thank you. I owe you so badly right now it’s not even funny. Want to watch figs go after wind-up toys now?”
“Sure,” he said, sounding amused.
oOo
“So, how’d getting figs to go for wind-up toys instead of mice go?” asked Keats, amused.
“Wonderfully! Also, it was hilarious. I’ve got extras-want to watch some more when we have the time?”
“Well, I was thinking more in the terms of results…”
“It’s body heat and carbon dioxide,” she said. “And it’s an either-and situation. It just takes one of the two for a reaction. That’s why they go after the Autobots-presumably they didn’t plan for inorganic heat sources. I doubt they can get any nutrients from them, certainly.”
“Not movement?” said Keats, curious.
“Nope, not movement. We’re lucky-it should be pretty easy to modify something so that it keeps the reactionary by-products contained. That’d be helpful.”
“And what about those chemicals Kristine was telling me about?”
“I’ve got the set-ups finished. To start with, I’m just looking at how they interact with plants on their own, and at a few different concentrations, for the two main ones I’m interested in. Depending on the results of that, we can look at them in combination later. I’m going to bed now, though-a full night’s worth of rest sounds like it would be beyond heaven, at the moment. I’ll look at what happens in the morning, but I don’t expect anything to happen for a few days, since it took a while for the past samples to die.”
“Okay, then. Can I tell Evan and the new guy that they’re free to use this lab while we’re gone? I’m not sure what either of them thinks of the Transformers, but the main lab’s pretty much unusable at the moment, with all the decomposing animals Toni’s got in there. Here’s his latest report, while we’re at it.”
“Thanks, and feel free. I’ve hardly been here long enough to feel territorial. Oof. I’m going to read this in the morning, I think.”
“Yeah, you’ve barely been sleeping at all, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m not the one who fell asleep in the lab,” she pointed out. Keats blushed slightly. “I’ll see you later, then,” she said, turning to go. After a minute, Keats followed her. He wasn’t done working for the evening, but some dinner and a short break would do him some good.
oOo
Apparently, it had rained all night long. It was the morning now, and it was still drizzling slightly. It had made the ground pretty muddy. Extremely muddy, even. Bumblebee knew-he was currently stuck in it.
He tried to back out of it again, but it was useless. He loved Earth, really, liked the variation and had made two of his closest friends here, but sometimes he also really, really hated it.
Like now.
He gave a quick scan of the immediate area. Good. It was empty, unless the humans had perfected some really advanced shielding technology recently.
Carefully, he started his transformation process, trying to shift as it happened so he kept himself hidden behind the surrounding buildings-these were probably a good third less than his standing height. Not good for disguise purposes.
He edged forward carefully, on his knees to keep himself below visibility levels. Damn government secrecy. A quick glance behind him showed that his doors-his ‘wings,’ in Mikaela’s terms-were still above the roofs at their lowest. Double damn.
He stretched them as low as they could get, feeling the complaint in the gears-if he popped something, Ratchet was going to eat him alive. Still, it was better than getting reamed out by Optimus and the military. And causing a mass panic. And possibly revealing the presence of the Autobots to the world’s general public.
A little bit further-nope, more mud.
An alert went off and he froze. Organic presence, coming up behind him. On foot, so he had a little while, but there weren’t any turn-offs at between here and there, so he was going to run into him unless he turned back.
Bumblebee quickly analyzed the options.
Swiftly, he moved forward, ignoring how it would look highly suspicious to anyone with the right vantage point. Around the corner, like that-there. The ground was slightly drier here, at least.
The alert was still blinking at him in irritation. It should have been deactivated-
The pin dropped, and he turned around to find himself face-to-face to a small group of frozen soldiers holding coffee cups and cigarettes.
“Slag,” he muttered. Half the soldiers jumped.
“Whoah. The report wasn’t a joke,” one of them said finally.
“I told you,” said another in return. “But no, you don’t trust me. -Admittedly, I wouldn’t trust me if I said something like that…”
Bumblebee relaxed. “You’re the gate guards?” he said, hopefully. If they were, they had the right classifications. None of them had probably seen any of the Autobots out of their alt. forms, so it was possible. At least one of them had, though-he looked vaguely familiar, too. One of the ones from the first meeting with Landslide, possibly.
One of the soldiers jumped and screamed.
Oh. Apparently they hadn’t heard any of them talk before, either.
“Yes,” said the familiar one, voice casual.
He relaxed fully, although was still careful to keep below the rooflines of the buildings he was sheltered behind. “Whew,” he said. “Superior officer would’ve had my aft-er, ass-if it’d been otherwise.” A few of the soldiers laughed, startled.
“I guess some things don’t change no matter what,” said one person, voice rueful and still a little shell-shocked.
Bumblebee nodded his agreement. “Universal law-it has to be. I’m Bumblebee, by the way.”
“Much better name than NBE 2,” said the first person who’d spoken. “I’m Ben Johnson.”
“They’re still calling me that?” he said, disgruntled. The soldiers were seeming considerably more relaxed.
“I don’t think you remember me, but I’m Cahler,” said the familiar one. “You were the one with the kids when the sulky one showed up, back home.”
“I thought I recognized you…”
“That’s because he doesn’t know when to shut up,” said another soldier.
A text message from another Autobot flashed across the screen. What’s holding you up? it read, with Optimus’ Cybertronian signature accompanying it.
Nothing-just distracted, he sent back quickly.
Aloud, he said “I’m sorry-need to get going. Technically, I’m on patrol right now.”
There was a small, ragged chorus of understanding. Carefully, Bumblebee initiated the re-transformation process, still trying to keep switching parts from showing too badly above the building. he thought he’d been at least moderately successful.
“Holy shit,” breathed one of the soldiers as he settled down onto his tires, an ’08 Camaro once more, if a really muddy one.
“See you around,” he said, just to see them jump again. They did.
“Bye,” said Cahler, still sounding like he’d been pretty much unaffected.
Bumblebee just caught one of the soldiers saying “That was incredible,” as he drove away. Internally, he smirked. Yep. Second to none.
oOo
“All set?” asked Irene. She was looking over a page in a badly worn notebook. In places it looked like her pen had pressed so hard it’d gone through the paper. There were doodles interspersed through the data filling the page.
“All set,” affirmed Kristine. She was up a ladder, facing a new section of wall, already diagrammed with a light grid in pencil.
“Alright, then. Five groups: lilac 5, shell pink 4, orange cream 3, lemon ice 2 and mint green 1. The last two have three sub-groupings: 2a, 2b and 2c, and 1a, 1b and 1c. All on Day 1.”
“No colors for the subgroups?” asked Kristine.
“Nah. I’d have needed to break out of the pastels. Okay. Five plants each for each group or subgroup. Subgroup 2a: 5 milliliters solution. 2b: 10 milliliters. 2c: 20 milliliters. Subgroup 1a: 10 mils. 1b: 20 mils. 1c: 30 mils.” Irene paused long enough for Kristine to finish forming the table.
“Lilac five-one-alive. Ditto Lilac five-two, five-three and five-five. Lilac five-four-dead, but possibly a contaminated sample.”
Irene paused as she waited for Kristine to finish writing. “Shell pink four-one through four-five, all alive.” There was another pause. “Orange cream three-one-dying, but sickly to begin with. Orange cream three-two through three-five-alive.”
“Lemon ice 2, subgroup 2a, plants one and five-dying. Plant two, half dead. Plants three and four, dead. Subgroup 2b, plants six through ten, dead. Subgroup 2c, plants eleven through fifteen, dead.
“Group mint green 1, subgroup 1a, all plants excluding four alive. Plant four, alive but wilted. Subgroup 1b, plants six through ten, alive. Subgroup 1c, plants eleven through fifteen, alive.”
She waited again for Kristine to finish.
“Why do you use the colors?” asked Solarity.
“To make it easier to reference when we’re looking through the experiments,” said Irene.
“So it’s the group with chemical 2…” said Kristine contemplatively. “That’s the one with the weird carbon structure?”
“No,” said Irene. “I think your thinking of chemical 4. It’s the one with all the iron.”
“That might be explained by all the red meat.”
“I don’t know. So clearly chemical 2 is a potent toxin, but we don’t know why it’s there at all, or how it’s being affected-neutralized?-by the presence of another plant. We need another set of experiments.”
“I’ll take notes, and then find someone else to do it,” said Kristine. “Ratchet’s left the cellular analysis for you to look over, so you’re going to be busy.”
“Thanks. Okay… How do I want to do this. Okay. Keep monitoring the first set, and call it Set I-that’s in roman numerals. Set II… Four sets of plants, each one with chemical 2 plus one of the other chemicals, and one with all the chemicals mixed together. All with five plants in each set, I think.” There was a long pause as Irene thought. “That should be it for now.
“And what colors do you want?”
“Russet, burnt umber, mustard yellow, olive and mud,” she responded. “The paint’s under the table with the cobalt blue samples.”
“Okay, got it. Here’s the reports on the cellular functions.”
“Oof. Okay, time to get reading…” Irene reached over blindly with her foot, hooking it around the leg of a stool and pulling it over to her, already absorbed in the report as she sat down and flipped to a clean page in her notebook, pen back in her mouth.
Kristine shook her head. “You’re going to get ink on your face again,” she told her. Irene didn’t respond.
oOo
Continued Here