I wrote this little piece after I watched the first movie and was not thrilled with what the novelization had to offer. I thought it was too much from the human perspective. I wanted more from the 'Bot's view of the world. This is strictly movieverse (with a little AU thrown in there to fill in the gaps). Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. The characters and events in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual Autobots or their human allies is coincidental and completely unintentional.

The sparkling blue and green world stretched out below Bumblebee as he settled into a high orbit. Initial scans indicated a network of tiny and extremely primitive, albeit clearly mechanical, satellites in orbit. Much like something he would see in the earliest history exhibits back on Cybertron. From a distance he was unable to determine their exact capabilities compared to his own so he had opted for safety, using the planet's single moon as cover for his final approach. Using the closer distance to more carefully scan the planet, the relatively small Autobot was able to determine the best path for gaining access to the planet itself.

Now he hung in geosynchronous orbit over a part of that world that seemed most promising to his objectives.

With one final scan of the surface beneath him, Bumblebee began to fold in upon himself, transforming into his cometary mode while simultaneously he began to descend into the atmosphere.

The planet's atmosphere was thick relative to other worlds he had explored, so he knew the heat that would build up on his armor would be substantial. Not damaging, but it would generate a blaze of light visible from some distance. The solar system boasted a heavily populated asteroid belt and even the planet's moon showed ample evidence of multiple impacts from such bodies. He detected evidence of similar impacts on the surface of the planet he was now rapidly descending towards.

If he stayed in cometary mode after landing until he could assure the immediate area was clear, it was possible none of the local inhabitants – if any happened to witness his landing – would think him anything but that: an errant spatial debris.

It was a possibility anyway.

As he descended he allowed himself to contemplate his initial evaluation of the satellites that littered the heavens in orbit around this planet. There had been no response to his attempts to communicate, and when he probed further he was easily able to distinguish the multiple streams of digital communication flowing up from the planet's surface to the satellites and back to the planet. It was then that he had realized the machines were not sentient after all. Not even semi-sentient drones. The complete and total lack of awareness in those…machines… was a novel thing for him, but the evidence was inescapable.

That meant something on the surface was responsible for their creation. That meant intelligent life.

The ground was approaching rapidly and Bumblebee braced for the impact. He would have preferred to slow and transform in a more dignified landing – but he was imitating a meteorite for the benefit of the local inhabitants. He was a scout, and that meant he was not to draw attention to himself. At least not more than he had to.

When the landing came, Bumblebee gouged a crater into the soft earth, sending a plume of dirt and burning shrubs into the sky. Then all was still.

Bumblebee waited to see if he had been detected, all sensors straining at maximum capacity, scanning at the extreme limits of his abilities. But except for the sounds of retreating organic wildlife, nothing resembling intelligent investigation of his presence came to his attention.

Without another moment's hesitation, he transformed back into his native protoform. There was not much time to waste. Optimus Prime had seemed very sure this was the planet the strange transmission had come from. He had seemed confident that such evidence of possible intelligence, combined with the faint Cybertronian resemblance of the signal itself, indicated the possible presence of the AllSpark.

Ah, if it were so. Like all Autobots, Bumblebee longed to return to the comfortable mechanical landscapes of Cybertron. It had been literally millennia since he and the others – those working together directly with Optimus and others, scattered among the stars – had last seen their home world.

Perhaps now peace is at hand. He thought as he straightened, towering over the other living things in the area. Only the few trees nearby rivaled him for height.

Trees. He looked around, scanning closely as he did so. Every living thing within sight was organic and very alien. It was odd for sentient mechanical life and abundant organic life to coexist naturally on the same planet.

He frowned. His experience exploring countless other worlds in fruitless searches for the AllSpark lead him to make one inescapable conclusion: If there was intelligent life on this planet, it must also be organic.

The possibilities of such an uncommon occurrence teased his cognitive processors. That would be a remarkable discovery, one his fellow Autobots would doubtless find hard to believe.

With a silent electronic transmission to the others, Bumblebee let them know of his safe arrival. He then headed in the direction of a confluence of artificially constructed structures, consisting of multiple rectangular shaped edifices positioned along regular organizational lines. A series of interlocking artificial pathways formed a network around the area, much like the vessels carrying his internal life fluids to his vital systems. It was as good a place to start as any. It reminded him vaguely of some of the city's on Cybertron, but on a much, much smaller and shorter scale. Perhaps he was imagining things.

In any case, it was the only indication of intelligence that was nearby. Nearby being a relative term.

To pass the time during his journey, Bumblebee leisurely perused the various transmissions available to him on this planet. It was an amazingly large quantity of them, considering the planet was dominated by organic life forms who could not possibly utilize them as he could. It was intriguing. And, in doing so, he learned the language of the local population, as well as a good deal about their culture. They were fascinating, especially as far as organics went. They were filled with many contradictions, that much was clear, even if many of the colloquialisms were alien to him.

He found the study stimulating. One of those things that distinguished him from his fellow Autobots, as well as making him an excellent scout.

As he approached the nearest of those flat pathways he squatted down behind some vegetation. His optics easily picked up a large volume of vehicular traffic, almost like a swarm of small mechanized insects. It was something he had never seen before. Some were large and multiwheeled, others much smaller with only two wheels. Most were in between. They all followed each other on parallel tracts, but at varying speeds. It was orderly and logical actually. An indication of intelligence at work, at least on some level.

Except that each one hosted one or more symbiotic organic organism. Bumblebee tried to hail one of the strange vehicles to inquire about the strange arrangement, but they kept whizzing past completely unaware of his presence. Was it possible that the vehicles themselves were as devoid of independent intelligence as the primitive satellites in space?

Turning his more sensitive scanning sensors on the vehicles he gave the electronic equivalent of a sigh. These vehicles were just as primitive as he had feared, some more than others, but clearly not intelligent in and of themselves. And, he shuddered to think about it, not even alive.

But it was more evidence that, as improbable as it might seem, the organics within were the intelligent brains and the vehicles merely tools.

That lead to another question. If those organics only knew of mechanical entities as nothing more than tools – what might they think if they saw him?

Better not to risk that until he knew more about these small creatures. Even if they were not a threat to him, it was possible that knowledge of his existence could prove too much for them to handle. He did not want to cause harm to any of them, especially if they were sentient.

Bumblebee continued to watch the vehicles and their organic occupants drive past. Though relatively uniform, there was an amazing amount of diversity in color, shape and the finer details of style. Then his visual preceptors were attracted to a bright yellow shape with two broad black stripes running parallel from front to back. It was intriguingly pleasing to look at; up beat and optimistic, much like his own personality. And the color scheme matched his preferred combination in his other alt-modes. This particular vehicle was more primitive than the others around it, but the throaty growl its painfully simple internal combustion engine made was engaging.

Perfect.

Simple scanning beams changed to the more complex transcan waves and in the mere blink of an organic eye, Bumblebee had scanned the primitive contraption thoroughly enough to be able to reproduce it exactly – down to the peeling synthetic pigmented covering on the tiny beads hanging from its rearview mirror.

Seconds later, Bumblebee's protoform began to change, folding in on itself and telescoping downward until what looked like exact replica of the speeding 1976's Camaro idled negligently on the grass behind the vegetation that had been hiding the bipedal robot moments before. An exact replica, that is, except for the enameled decal imbedded in the middle of his copied custom steering wheel and several other minor improvements on the original, including an engine that was not dependant on fossil fuels even if it looked like it was.

Bumblebee took half a second to evaluate his assumed body. Primitive to be sure – confined to simple rolling locomotion, but the configuration suggested the ability for significant acceleration and agility. At least on relatively flat surfaces. Like that of the long linear expanse of a hardened mixture of crushed rock and limestone pavement all the lifeless vehicles followed.

Revving the engine experimentally, Bumblebee pushed through the plants screening him from the road and edged forward. A brief lull in the traffic provided all the time he needed to take his place in the seemingly ceaseless flow.

Careful to maneuver in a way that blended in with the local traffic, Bumblebee devoted a portion of his neural circuitry to further investigation of the area. Some of the audio transmissions he intercepted consisted of heavily modulated sound waves that made no logical sense to him on first inspection – least of all was any indication as to their purpose. What possible use could a possibly intelligent organic species have with so many simultaneous transmissions? Such puzzling creatures.

Another part of his cognitive circuitry he used to experiment with his new body, seeking to learn about the creatures that created the original by studying a facsimile of that creation. It was absurdly simple really. The control mechanisms and instrument paneling suggested a limited functional ability, especially where information input and resulting physical reaction were concerned. But one of the instruments on his dash suggested a use for all of those transmissions.

As he fiddled with the knobs of said instrument - an instrument seemingly designed to transform those digital signals into audio wavelengths perceivable by organic auditory organs – a strange noise erupted from speakers scattered throughout his interior. As he switched from signal to signal the noise emanating from those speakers changed too.

So they don't use them simultaneously after all. A shame, so much wasted…

Then a new thought hit Bumblebee like a Deception's minor weapon might have. The hint of a possibility he would never have thought possible – especially on a primitive, organically inhabited world. Optimus Prime had charged him with investigating the weak signal the great leader had intercepted and, if necessary make contact with the local intelligent life forms. If possible.

Opening his perception to the entirety of the incoming signals, Bumblebee devoted only the handful of cognitive functions necessary to simultaneously parse and organize them, channeling them methodically through his speakers. Utilizing his newly acquired familiarity with the language of his unwitting hosts to make a coherent thought.

A lilting female voice, "Welcome, welcome, everybody."

An almost instantaneous change of signals and another voice blared out, "Man, oh man, have I got news for you!"

Another change and a rather harsh sounding voice followed the others, "Truth? You can't handle the truth!"

Bumblebee chuckled at the thought. Then sobered. How many of these organics would be able to handle the truth about him?

He aimed to find out.

His experiment had worked though.

He was finally able to do something he hadn't been able to do since his vocal processor had been ripped out by Megatron so long ago, thousands of this little planet's orbits around its primary star. It was not his voice, and the ability was dependent on the availability of sufficient and adequately relevant audio and visual transmissions, but he was able to communicate with others vocally.

And with the plethora of such signals dancing around this planet, there should always be something applicable to choose from.

Wait until the others found out.

He could not wait to see the looks on their faces.

Laughing to himself, Bumblebee raced onward toward – if he understood the written signs scattered at regular intervals correctly – a place called Houston.

Even if the Organics had missed Bumblebee's landing, Blackout did not. In fact, the Autobot's presence here on this planet only served to motivate the Decepticon's determination to find out for sure whether or not there was anything to that weak signal the Nemesis had intercepted. And he knew he had to find out before that miscreant could do so himself.

...

Disdaining his previously ineffectual yet clandestine efforts at recognizance, Blackout decided to take a much more direct approach. It was obvious by now that the general population at large knew nothing either about Megatron's possible presence or the Allspark. That left their military. It did not take much investigation to determine which tribal conglomeration of these pathetic insects was the most powerful among themselves. The fact that their more advanced weapons seemed to slightly hint at Cybertronian origin only confirmed that observation.

Adding some of his own more advanced propulsion ability to the pathetically slow rotating blades that provided both lift and locomotive force for his terrestrial disguise, Blackout made haste to one of the more remote and containable insect outpost.

Half a world away from where Bumblebee was entering his first human city to explore, Blackout thundered across sandy dunes and arid wastelands. As expected, his sensors picked up the patrolling aircraft well before they could even hope to detect him. He slowed to a speed that his chosen guise would actually be able to achieve.

It did not take long before the crude audio communication device boasted by his current shape crackled to life.

"Unidentified aircraft, you have entered restricted US military airspace. Squawk ident and proceed east to heading…" Blackout ignored the rest of what the human on the other end of the radio said.

That pitiful insect needs a lesson. Blackout thought as he continued on his present course, not deigning to send a reply.

It did not take long for those aircraft he had detected earlier to alter their heading to intercept him.

Blackout ignored them as well, knowing they could not hurt him. When they neared, the same message was sent to him again, though form a different voice; one that originated from one of the clumsily constructed aircraft.

When Blackout did not respond, the faster aircraft zipped past him only to loop around to take escort positions off to each side. It was but the work of a salvage drone to eavesdrop on the transmission the lead craft sent back to its base.

"No reply. Tail ID 4500 X-Ray. Its possible their radio might just be out, its one of ours and they haven't done anything threatening."

"Roger that." Their leader told them. "Escort them in. We will deal with this on the ground."

Yes, you will. Blackout thought as the pilot acknowledged the order.

The next transmission from the human's base almost made him laugh. "4500 X Ray, we will escort you to US forward operations SOCCENT Air base. You will comply or we will use deadly force."

Stupid insect. Blackout chortled to himself, the clearly alien electronic warble it produced unheard by the human pilots surrounded by perceptionless metal husks and the roar of their painfully primitive chemical based propulsion systems.

But, if they wanted to escort him to his destination, who was he to argue?

Constrained by the slow pace of the Fleshies' machines, it was early night by the time Blackout touched down on the landing strip that had been specially prepared for his arrival. He remembered to rezz up a pilot before he descended too low and only on second thought was surprised the pilots of the two escort crafts had not noticed.

With commendable speed, especially for organics, they had him surrounded. Blackout laughed at them with half of his cognitive circuitry while scanning the buildings for what he was looking for with the other half. It did not take long. They did not do a good job disguising such things.

"You will power down your engines now, or we will kill you." The transmission came almost immediately upon landing.

Go ahead and try! Blackout thought as he slowed the rotors that had lifted the helicopter he pretended to be. Then he stopped the blades entirely, something one of their pitiful vessels could not have done. The insects were intelligent enough to realize that. Weapons were armed and orders given. Interestingly, like those weakly, sentimental Autobots, they refrained from firing those weapons. For the moment.

But Blackout did not stop there. The blades rotated and then swung back as he transformed from gunship to towering bipedal robot. The organics opened fire with their toy-like projectiles – all of which bounced harmlessly off his armor. Their assault hardly even qualified as annoying.

With one blast from a lesser of his integrated weapons, all the fleshlings and their machines ceased to exist, pieces and parts blown into the sky.

Using the weaponry on only one arm, Blackout walked toward the centrally located building he had identified as the electronic information hub of the small outpost. Peeling the metal roof off like a flake of fabric, he took capricious delight in seeing the tiny insects run for non-existent cover. Seeing the server he wanted, he reached for it with the arm not engaged in a very one-sided combat. A nanosecond later, with arcs of electricity spraying outward from the point of contact, interface was achieved.

He sorted through the information with lightning speed and started to shriek his victory when the information feed suddenly ended. The victory cry turned into an outraged roar as he turned optics into the building. A gray haired human insect, in contrast to most of his hive-mates who trying to scurry away, was staring straight at him. A sharp, wedge-shaped blade was grasped in his hands and next to him, the sparking remnants of severed power lines and data chords still sizzled, leaving Blackout a very clear picture of what had happened.

Outraged to be outwitted by a mere insect, furious that a patently inferior being should even attempt to interfere, the hand that had been accessing the primitive computer system morphed smoothly into a weapon. The squishy insect's eyes widened a moment before the room and everything in it was blown into its constituent parts. The firing from the other insects continued and now, with nothing else to do, Blackout turned all weapons systems on wiping out the entire base.

As he progressed down the line of lifeless aircraft and tanks, the human insects finally began to scatter. A small group – including one that was clearly a young juvenile – sprinted across his path. All but one made it to the dubious shelter of a few waiting 'armored' vehicles. The one that failed to make it was thrown backwards by the concussion that ran through the ground as Blackout stepped down and fell between his feet.

He did not scream, as so many of the other insects were doing, but instead pointed something up at him. It was clearly not a weapon. Pausing from his rampage, Blackout looked at him a little closer. It was an ocular device, and through it he could see himself reflected back but not in simple visible light but in infrared. It revealed little, but it was too much for his taste.

"How dare you, dirty insect!" Blackout yelled at him in a half-second's electronic screech of Cybertronian and turned a lesser weapon on the upstart organic.

Divining the danger he was in, the dark-skinned human scrambled to his feet to hastily join his companions. Blackout's blast harmlessly gouged the dirt in his wake.

Even better. He aimed at the lot of them and fired again. But the insects proved adept at running away and he missed. To make matters worse, they were rapidly heading toward the perimeter of the base. If Blackout followed to kill them, there was a chance the others would get out a call for help. He had to deal with them before he could follow the handful of escapees. Thankfully, like a few other Decepticons, he had other options.

/Scorponok, finish them./

With an electronic chirp, his multilegged, vaguely scorpion shaped symbiot peeled off his back and burrowed into the ground.

Note: Well, this was my first attempt at fanfic. I hope that if you made it this far, you enjoyed it. Please review. I have more of this story written but will decide how far to take it depending on its reception. Let me know if you want to read more.