TITLE: Lock Down, part 1
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...
FEEDBACK: Loved

Some days it really wasn't worth getting up. Sam Witwicky found that a late September morning was such a day. The night had been rather short, filled with last-minute studying, cramming everything about theoretical thermodynamics into his brain that was even possible. He had slept maybe four hours, then dragged himself over to the campus to sit in with a few dozen other hopeful engineering students who looked as tired as he did. Professor Matthews was a rather demanding teacher, allowing no slacking, and whoever fell asleep in his classes was kicked out. So he had a very attentive group of young men and women, all slaving over assignments.

Sam found that practical courses were as easy as pie, but theory was as hard as it was for everyone. He had to study just like the others and there was nothing that made it easier for him, not even his new abilities.

Three coffees and one exam later, Sam collapsed into the Camaro that was waiting for him in the parking lot.

"Man," he groaned.

"How did it go?" Bumblebee asked.

"I think my brain's going to collapse any moment now. I think I'm dead."

There was a chuckle from his friend. ::Too tired to go for a drive?:: Bumblebee asked, using something new between them.

::You drive, I'll enjoy the rush:: Sam replied, smiling.

Their way of communicating had taken a while to settle. At first Sam had been slightly freaked that his mind had the ability to uplink to the mechanoids that were his friends. It had been because Bumblebee had started to use it frequently that Sam had gotten used to it. It still was strange, but not really all that freaky any more. And since the others didn't uplink, he could handle one of the mechanoids using this way of communication.

Add to it that Bumblebee was always around him, felt comfortable and familiar, was a known friend, and Sam was way more relaxed than even around Jazz.

The Camaro joined the late afternoon traffic and headed out of Mission City. Sam leaned back, hands on the steering wheel to keep the cover. He let his mind drift, felt the powerful thrum of Bumblebee's engine, was aware of every moving part in his robot friend, and it felt… really good. Normal. Nice.

He was looking forward to the coming weekend. His parents were away for some obscure birthday party from a friend of his Dad's and he would be at the Autobot base. Actually he would be working.

Sam grinned.

And it would be fun.

He closed his eyes, felt the continuing thrum. It changed smoothly into a pulsing light, into the coolness of the spark that was everything Bumblebee. It was the very core of his being, his soul and the home of his mind, his emotions, his heart. It could exist without a body, but the body could never be more than a mindless machine without the spark.

…

He wasn't one of the tallest Cybertronians, but he was fast and he knew his way around. He was a spy. He was a scout. He could think fast on his feet and he always made the best of any given situation, be it in battle or throughout training.

Testing his wheels, Bumblebee accelerated, new to this planet, but never new to a form. As his body took on a new shape, chose a transformation, his mind adjusted. It was easy. It was how they functioned.

Everything was so much smaller than he was used to. Sam had been surprised how organic this world was, how populated, and how advanced these organics were. A lot had surprised him, but he had learned fast with internet uplinks and by just watching.

And he had discovered music as communication.

Sam waited in front of a red light, his hologram in place, then drove across the intersection to…

…

::"Sam!"::

He jerked out of the deep uplink, blinking in confusion. Sam needed a moment to realize where he was and who he was with – and what he had done.

"Bee…?"

"You linked, Sam."

"Oh. Uhm. Sorry. Oh god, Bee, I did it again, right? I deep-linked!"

Bumblebee had slowed down and come to a stop, "Yes, but it's okay. You didn't hurt me."

"I… I was you again," Sam whispered, horrified. Not by the fact, but by his deeds.

"How did it feel?" the mech asked curiously.

He thought about it for a moment. "Pretty cool," Sam confessed with a small smile.

He felt Bumblebee's amusement. "It's pretty cool to feel you, too," his friend said.

"I just wish I could control it better," Sam added. He knew he sounded like a petulant child. "It's like… it's irresistible."

"Only as long as you haven't learned complete control."

He sank deeper into the seat. "Yeah. Sucks. What if it happens with the others, too?"

So far it had only been Bumblebee where he had hitched a ride into the positronic mind, riding on memories and emotions of an alien being. It had been really cool, true, but it was also frightening.

"You'll learn," Bumblebee told him, sounding very convinced.

Sam wasn't so sure. It had been months now and he wasn't getting better. At least in his eyes. But maybe this was a life-long learning.

Man, that would suck.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Ratchet was fascinated by the boxes filled with machinery from Sector Seven. With the disbanding of the secret government research group, all their experiments had been shipped to the Autobot base. Ratchet had been and always was the first to unpack something new, scan it, take it apart, categorize it, and then decide what to do with it. Bumblebee helped sometimes, as did Sam, who was the perfect assistant for the tiny things. With his interest in engineering and Cybertronian technology, it was a learning experience for the college student each and every time.

Add to that Sam's still-developing abilities as a technopath and Ratchet couldn't really complain. Aside from a few little problems, like blowing up one of the scanners, Sam had control over his powers. Sometimes he was overwhelmed when three or even four of the mechanoids were together, maybe even communicated among themselves, but luckily he had Bumblebee as a kind of anchor. Ratchet had been surprised and then fascinated by the fact that Sam anchored himself in the other mind and Bumblebee felt no averse reaction. For him it was like linking to one of his own kind.

It warranted more research and Ratchet kept an eye on developments.

The medic surveyed the contents of the latest box. All of it had been marked as 'unfinished' or 'abandoned'. He had read the files on everything Sector Seven had done, and these were the projects the scientists had discontinued for some reason or other.

He picked out the first item and began.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Throughout the next hours he was joined by Sam Witwicky. Sam remained well into the night and the next morning until he was too tired to make much sense of anything any more. He kept on creating glitches or little system failures, a clear sign that his mind was exhausted. Sam had a penchant for losing himself in research, something, he had once confessed to Ratchet, he had never thought he could do before. He had never been true geek, though he liked research, and he had never been a real jock, but he wasn't a couch potato either. Now, not only with his technopathy but also because the subject of Cybertronian technology was so interesting, he forgot time and he had again been awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

Ratchet sent him to bed. There were rooms for the human contingent of allies stationed with the Autobots, namely Major Lennox and his team. Since Sam stayed overnight sometimes, too – whenever he didn't have to be in school – he had his own bed here, too.

Ratchet returned to his work.

He didn't see one of the objects Sam had catalogued start to power up.

He didn't hear its soft hum until it increased enough for his audios to register it as… intrusive.

And then there was a pulse of energy, of something brief but strong, and Ratchet's systems blanked for a nano second.

The blink of a human eye.

Normalcy.

Ratchet stood at his work bench, confused as to what had happened, and his optics fell on the innocent object.

From outside there was a loud yell that jerked him out of his stupor.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Ironhide had just rolled into the base when something had pulsed through him, briefly blanking his systems, almost locking everything down. He shuddered, all functions stopping for a brief, brief second, and then he was back.

"Ironhide?"

That was Lennox. His friend had been sitting in the driver's seat and was now gazing worriedly at him.

"You okay?"

"I'm not sure. What just happened?"

"Your engine stalled, you kinda shuddered, and now you're back."

Ironhide rumbled, disturbed. Lennox got out and stood back to let his friend transform, but nothing happened.

"Ironhide?"

"What in the name of Cybertron's Pits…" he snarled.

His transformation circuits were locked. Nothing gave a single inch.

tbc...