Chapter Text
For a few days after the trial, Sam mostly took time for himself to kind of process the whole thing. It had seemed so big before but now it felt…well, it felt like everything else. He was glad that it was over, that was true but he wouldn’t say he felt some sense of vindication. Which was probably better; Sam didn’t like the idea that he’d feel vindicated at someone else’s expense, even if they had harmed him first.
Cliffjumper also availed himself more to Sam and with some carefully discussed details such as availability, Sam one morning found himself riding with Cliffjumper to Cliff’s office, his typewriter in it’s carrying case in his lap as a soft sea breeze wafted through the windows as Cliff’s holoform pretended to drive himself to work. Sam, amused, glanced at the large holoform. “I don’t mind driving without your holoform, Cliff. I know you’re still you.” He chuckled, patting one door handle affectionately.
Giving Sam a little eye roll, Cliffjumper took his hand off the steering wheel (9 and 3) and waved at the complex road system that they were traversing. “Its actually a bit of an ‘unofficial’ rule; we have mixed traffic with cars and Cybertronians. The human drivers find it disconcerting not to see a self-driving car but one with only a passenger and I can’t let you ‘drive’ with your typewriter in case in your lap if there is an accident.” He explained.
Sam, who had been unwilling to relinquish the typewriter to Cliff that morning because he didn’t want anyone touching it if they didn’t have to, nodded in understanding. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t think I saw many people just being ferried around when I was driving. It weirded me out when the self-driving cars started really being a thing - the Tesla’s, heck, the Cybertrucks always looked so weird and then everyone else was doing it and I was just happy to have my Zephyr to drive around.” He admitted. “Nothing complicated with that car, though I had to learn how to work on it when all of the repair shops stopped having people who knew what to do with older cars. Which was nice, actually, getting to work with my hands.” He remembered. It hadn’t been the high of working on the signal blockers but it had still been nice.
Looking thoughtful, Cliff nodded before glancing at Sam. “We could visit the R&D department later today - there are a lot of projects going on, you could take a look.” He offered.
Sam was quick to shake his head, “I would just get in everyone’s way and I don’t want to be a bother.” He denied, fingers tight to his typewriter. Because he would like to see, but he was nervous about doing something wrong or being too dumb to understand what they were doing.
Giving Sam another glance, Cliffjumper hummed. “Well, let's see how you feel this afternoon. I have a meeting with Wheeljack and he’s been asking after you.” The mech explained. Considering the last time Sam had seen the inventor and engineer had been during that disastrous time after Honey had been born but before Honey had been moved into Cliff’s spark chamber Sam could kind of get it. He’d been in an appalling way and had scared himself, let alone those around him.
Lightly checking on Honey who, true to the advise that First Aid had given him, did spend a large majority of their time in recharge Sam let the minor spike in anxiety at the memory of that awful time slowly slip away. “I didn’t mean to worry him.” Sam muttered quietly.
Reaching over, Cliffjumper set his holoform's warm hand against the back of Sam’s neck and Sam felt himself loosing up under the hold like he did with Will. “Sam, Wheeljack cares about you, we all do. To not worry when someone you care about isn’t doing well isn’t how that works.” He explained as they finally reached the correct level, slowing to ‘pedestrian’ speeds as they entered the security office complex. It was the first time Sam had really seen it, because he’d been dozing coming in and simply hadn’t looked at it while they were leaving. It was all curves and spirals and windows that looked out into the central mass and beyond.
Sam was pretty sure that the vertical city couldn’t be supported on their delicate spires.
“How can the city be so tall?” He asked, looking up at the underside of the next level high above them.
Cliffjumper looked at Sam before letting his holoform duck down to look up as well. “There’s a superstructure that everything is anchored off of. It looks a little bit like a pine tree when the city is stripped to it’s basic structure, the buildings and boulevards are carefully considered before being included to make sure that the weight is evenly distributed between sides and levels so that it doesn’t become lopsided and unbalanced. Earth’s gravity is less than Cybertron’s gravity, which makes things easier and also more difficult.” The mech explained as they finally entered the internal hallways of the complex, coming to a stop before the same security mech’s that had scanned him the first time.
The mech was less surprised this time, but more curious and Sam was pleased when they were waved in, the security bot, Brake-neck*, watching them go. Sam had been too out of it to recognize him last time but glanced back in Cliff’s mirror as the entered the ‘bullpen’ of strictly Cybertronians with interest. An interest that was shared, as optics moved towards Cliff as he made his way to his own office.
Behind First Aid’s shielding Sam didn’t quite hear what was being broad-banded, but he could hear whispers of the communications, louder than when he'd first hid in First Aid's 'Firewall', and of course the fields were still fair game. [Excitement][interest][reverence] were chief amongst them but also [confusion] and [unsettled]. Which Sam understood. He was an anomaly and really kind of outside of a frame of reference: and he didn’t interact with many people so it wasn’t like they were getting the opportunity to change their opinion of him from actually knowing him. Still, he tried to act ‘normal’ even though he was nervous at the attention, even Cybertronian, that was directed at him.
But it was…it was good. Sam was getting better and this wasn’t like his valley, there were people here and with how small the island was, even with the incredible architectural wonder that New Iacon was, he was going to have to see people and be seen by people at some point. It wasn’t so much the him seeing people thing was the problem, it was people noticing him. Sam actually enjoyed people watching, seeing friends and families and lovers and strangers all interacting normally.
It reminded him of what he’d lost, in a bittersweet kind of way.
Still, small steps. Sam was relieved when they entered Cliff’s office and the door slid closed behind them. It also showed that there had been some big changes to Cliff’s temporary digs.
The console that Cliffjumper used to do his work on had been switched out with a sleeker, smaller version that was more appropriately sized for the former scout. The boxes in the corner had been removed and a Geodesic Garden* had been set up in its place, something that Sam had never seen in person but had in several visions. Actually, there were a lot of small touches everywhere that were surprising, a holo-emitter sat on a shelf in eyesight of Cliff’s desk that was playing a concert that had been taken on old Iacon before the war by TCRX-43* and her band of femmes and they essentially rocked out in a synesthesia of outputs, many Sam couldn’t appreciate with his human biology.
“Wow, someone’s been redecorating.” Sam said aloud as he stepped away from Cliffjumper so that the mech could transform into his bipedal form without ‘squishies*’ underfoot.
Cliffjumper had a slightly beleaguered expression as he stood. “Not exactly my idea.” He huffed, walking to the console and doing something well out of Sam’s eyesight before turning back to the small Spark Touched and Sam’s confused expression. “Everyone has been going out of their way to make sure that I’m ‘comfortable’ now that I’m carrying Honey and, well, nothing bad has happened.” He explained with a small wince at the mention of something bad being a possibility, which Sam echoed. “So I kind of arrive to ‘little surprises’. It’s nice but weird.” The mech admitted.
Sam wasn’t sure if he should be amused or upset to discover that people were coddling Cliffjumper, and from his expression Cliffjumper wasn’t sure either. “I mean, at least it’s nice stuff and not like stuff you get at baby showers. Which I guess are useful but not here. The garden must have been a lot of work.” Sam said, wandering over to the sizable garden, setting his typewriting box down safely as he looked the stones over.
Some of the geodes were bigger than him and shown in shiny rainbows of colors, though pink and red were the predominant ones. Tilting his head, he turned back to the red mech who was watching him with interest before Sam waved at the pile of stones. “Isn’t this, like, stupid expensive?” He asked. He knew that small geodes were pricey and these ones were massive.
Rolling his optics, Cliffjumper nodded. “Yeah. A lot of people think since I’m carrying the first sparkling in 10 million years that I am special now.” He shook his helm. “Just right place, right time.”
“Right sized spark chamber too.” Sam said thoughtfully, “Solus picked you out specifically as a good candidate and there were a lot of bots on the beach that day.” They’d been preparing for the passing of another Sparkling and that had drawn all quarters to stand in solidarity with Sam. Internally, Sam shied away from that thought.
From the console, Cliffjumper looked surprised. “Solus Prime picked me out?” He asked, his [surprise] tempered by [wonder] and [joy].
Giving Cliffjumper a little grin, Sam nodded. “Yeah - she seemed pretty insistent on it, actually. Maybe she just liked you.” He teased.
Optics narrowing, Cliff folded his arms across his chassis. “You’re bullshitting me.” He accused.
Raising his hand and crossing his heart under his yellow hoodie, Sam shook his head. “Cross my spark--er, heart.” He corrected. He looked around though, “In human cultures there’s a lot of emphasis on ‘moms’ because carrying a child is a lot of work and dads can kind just disappear if they want to afterwards. Christianity venerates this lady called Mary because she gave birth to Jesus.” He pointed out. “If you go to a museum with western art it’s basically her holding a baby in thousands of iterations of the same concept if they have anything from like the 14th Century onwards to the Renaissance. You’re kinda a proxy Mary in this case, I guess?” He said absently as he navigated the garden that he was small enough to immerse himself in.
“Except the virgin part.” The mech said with cheek.
Rolling his eyes, Sam acknowledged that point. “I am still really grateful that you allowed me to set Honey’s spark in with yours. You didn’t have to do that.” He said, giving Cliffjumper shy eyes.
The mech softened his own, “But I wanted to. I’d do it a thousand times over with no regrets, Sammy. It’s an honor to carry Honey.” He said solemnly before giving Sam a grin, “Even if I could do without everyone treating me like spun glass.”
Nodding, Sam carefully stepped out of the garden and collected his typewriter box. “Do you think I could have, like, a office supply box to use as a desk?” He asked.
Cliffjumper scoffed, “You’re not getting a box to write at. If I’ve been getting coddled you've been getting spoiled in absentia.” He grumbled, doing something on the console that caused the wall next to him to light up and Sam saw what the office shadows were hiding.
Everyone has a hamster horror story. While Sam might not be a hamster, he wasn’t sure if the ones who had constructed essentially a human hamster cage had gotten that memo.
It had three floors.
Three freaking floors.
Sam could even see a bedroom on the top level and a little kitchen on the first floor because like all cages there was at least one viewing side, though something had very thoughtfully added dark curtains to the bedroom to give the sleeper some privacy.
Looking up at Cliffjumper, who was clearly very amused by Sam’s fields and expressions, Sam grimaced. “Please tell me that you expect other humans to be here, often.” He begged.
Chuckling, Cliffjumper bent down to let Sam sit in his servos to be lifted onto the console, the only way to access the small habitat. “It’s you and sometimes Will, who doesn’t spend any time in the office. I’m afraid this is your little slice of paradise.” He chuckled, nudging Sam with a servo to explore. “I removed some of the worst kitsch, but someone had this as a passion project so I don't really know all that's in there.” Cliffjumper explained.
Sam wasn't sure he wanted to find out, personally. But curiosity killed the cat so setting his typewriting box in a safe location, Sam carefully approached the human hamster cage.
The sidewalls were some kind of thick acrylic glass and Sam glanced around as he entered and…
Felt strangely nostalgic.
Whoever had built the thing had paid very close attention to detail for things that would have been normal when Sam wasn't--when Sam hadn't been unwell. The kitchen was made with the orange oak cabinets that everyone had, there was a phone on the wall that looked like the one his parents had had in their house. It was like a little time capsule. The dish towels even looked like the ones everyone seemed to have, the ones with stripes in very 2000’s coloring.
“Sammy, you good?” Cliffjumper asked.
Nodding, Sam touched a countertop as he looked around. “Yeah, yeah. It's just…it's like my house.” He frowned, before shaking his head. “Sorry, my parents house, well, the one before we moved into the big house.” He corrected himself. His father's success had meant that they'd left their first house and into a huge house for three people.
But Sam still remembered the first house he'd lived in fondly. And this place reminded him enough of the house that he found himself feeling sentimental for a place he had never been before.
Cliffjumper sat at his console and was clearly working but also keeping an eye on Sam as he explored. “I noticed that it was kind of outdated but Will seemed to think it was nice.”
Chuckling, Sam moved towards the denim couch and tested its cushiness. Plush. Good for napping. “Will's older than I am, he grew up when dolphin shorts* were a thing.” Sam chuckled before going to the stairs to look around the other floors.
The second floor was all a work space. There were desks and paper and art supplies, though Sam hadn't done art in years. There were a few shelves of books that caught Sam's attention and he was drawn to it. He expected the books to all be old but it was an eclectic mix of old and new in several different genres as though experimenting with what would catch someone's interest.
There was even a section with his books in mint condition from the first printings.
“Wow.” He said in wonder, looking at all of the volumes. He'd had a beat up set at the cabin that he'd periodically thumb through to look for details he'd not understood or gotten wrong due to bias, but these looked like they had been in a time capsule.
Slowly strolling along he ran his fingers over the books spines like a lost lover before pulling himself away and cautiously ascending the stairs to the third and final level.
Unless the princess was in another castle.*
It was definitely designed to be a comfortable space. It was unopinionated where the other floors had had a clear vision, Sam was even sure some of the furniture was IKEA, though pressing a hand to the bed he was pleased to note that the mattress wasn't. It looked like a half finished space, just waiting for someone to add personal touches.
Someone had been doing research into human psychology and had implemented a very comfortable space for Sam specifically but others generally in the small cage like structure. Sam wondered if it was because someone thought if Sam was going to be there anyway he might as well be comfortable or was it trying to make an inviting space so that Sam would want to come back to it, given the chance, which would have him in the office more regularly.
An interesting question.
Looking out the balcony window Sam noticed that Cliffjumper was quickly sorting through tables of readings and data, still keeping half an eye on Sam but clearly focused on his job. Which was good. Sam liked Cliffjumper and he needed a minder (who wasn't Frenzy) considering his condition still, but he also liked the illusion of distance it gave.
Sam was still independent innately and liked to be self-sufficient as much as possible, so the distance was nice. Nice enough that he collected his typewriter box and went to the ‘office’ space, spending a few minutes setting up the chair and the desk to his like, perusing the offered paper products and pencils before selecting a ream of paper that was a bit nicer, heavier, than the paper he was used to.
Pulling out his current few pages of writing, Sam read over where he's been thoughtfully. The pages had disappeared pretty much as soon as he wrote them at first for scanning but he had managed to negotiate that he still needed them to remember his train of thought and what he was specifically looking for in his mess of visions, otherwise he'd lose his place.
The mini-con charged with more or less keeping track of Sam's writing, Buzzsaw*, was actually pretty nice. A little shy, Sam assumed, because when Will or someone closer to Sam collected his writing to hand off the mini-con had always tripped over his words of thanks, his optics respectfully(?) averted from Sam though he seemed curious and interested in Sam from his fields.
Sam was just happy to be able to continue writing. It wasn't like it had been before, a consuming urge to the detriment of other things like sleeping or eating, to prove to himself that it had all really happened and that he wasn't just having an extraordinarily sophisticated break from reality. Psychosis. To prove to all of those doctors and nurses and psychologists that he was experiencing something, though he'd never explained about the Cybertronians specifically.
Ranting about giant robotic alien warriors coming to Earth and looking for a lost artifact wouldn't have looked particularly great on his already fairly blemished record.
Now the writing was different. Now he was trying to include things that would be of greater historical importance, of context, so that the people reading his stories, reports, would be able to use it as a history, where one had been lost.
It was quiet for about an hour, both Sam and Cliffjumper engrossed in their own projects when there was a *ping* across their fields, not the communication network that Sam was still shielded from but was starting to hear more clearly instead of just whispers in the background.
He almost laughed at the irony that now he really was hearing voices.
“Come.” Cliffjumper called for Sam's benefit, giving the Spark Touched time to maneuver out of clear line of sight with the door.
The door woodshed open and Topspin* of the Wreckers poked his head in. “::Greetings[salutations] Cliffjumper[affection].::” The big mech inclined his head to Cliffjumper before his eyes shifted to give Sam's enclosure a glance, [pleased] a delicate waft through Sam's fields. “And hello Samuel Witwicky.” He greeted, before refocusing on Cliffjumper when Sam gave a little wave. “I apologize for the interruption, Cliffjumper, but we were going over the logs of transports inbound for Cybertron from the Sol Asteroid Belt processing center and our records indicated that 109 ships departed but only 106 arrived.” The Jumpstarter* explained, stepping further into the room and handing a data pad that was only a little shorter than Sam to the red mech. “The '::Rust Sea::', '::Titan::' and '::Astarinus::' all engaged the space bridges with their cohort but they never arrived at Cybertron’s gate.” The mech explained, tapping the a few items on the display. “::Salist[5]:: reported that they lost a freighter between their gate and Cybertron as well.”
::Salist:: was a star system ‘close’ to Earth. Groombridge 1618 is what NASA called it. It was still almost 16 light years from Earth but it was close relative to Cybertron.
Taking the pad, Cliffjumper looked at the logs and pulled something up on his console. Now curious, Sam stood and drifted closer, leaning against the clear aluminum glass to also look at what Cliffjumper was pulling up. It appeared to be ship manifests, isolated to the three vessels in question. “Nothing of note with any of them.” The mech frowned, tapping his digit against the screen. “Has there been any debris or evidence of destruction?”
Topspin shook his helm. “No. No evidence of destruction in the gate system either. They all disappeared between ::Sigma-437:: and ::Sigma-450:: according to the bridge logs.” He frowned.
Cliffjumper hummed, “No distress message either?” He asked, receiving a [negative] and hummed. “Well, they can't have just disappeared, now can they?”
“Is there any evidence of a redirect trigger?” Sam found himself asking, freezing when both bots looked at him. He tucked his head at their stares and waved at the screen. “You can input a ‘redirect’ command into the bridge system, it can be triggered later, say when a vessel initiates transport through the gate with the command.” He explained, remembering at least a few instances where such an event had occurred.
Optics dimming in the cybertronian equivalent of a blink, Topspin turned back to the screen. “I was unaware that there was a ‘redirect’ command option.” The mech frowned, looking to Cliffjumper for confirmation that the human wasn't talking out of his ass.
Cliffjumper, who by this point was as used to Sam saying ten incredible things before breakfast*, hummed, rubbing his servo across his mentum*. “I also haven't heard of a ‘redirect’ command. But you've seen one?” He asked Sam, giving him more than the benefit of the doubt.
Nodding, Sam gestured at the screen before frowning, realizing he was too high up to give any specificity. “Hang on.” He said, going to the stairs and stumbling down them, unaware that both Topspin and Cliffjumper's cables had tightened at the display of locomadness* that he displayed unknowingly, Cliff’s holo emitter sputtering out blue sparks where he would have instantiated a holoform to catch Sam if Sam has not successfully descended the stairs behind Sam as he came out of the small house to join them.
The two mech's shared a look over Sam's head as he planted his hands on his knees, bent over the screen and looking the display over, none the wiser.
“Yeah, see here? They triggered at different points at different times going forward, right? Each gate that they disappeared in could have had a redirect trigger. The system scrubs commands after each transport as part of its link to other gates, so that each ship goes where it intends to, but if the circumstances of a gate change, say a star explodes and the gate survives the explosion but the system is inhospitable? That's why the redirect command exists, but the Gate Builders* don't service the gates anymore so a lot of the information is lost.” He explained thoughtfully, not noticing Topspin's incredulous surprise or Cliffjumper's intrigued gaze.
“Did you see the Gate Builders?” Cliffjumper asked. No one knew who had originally created the gates, they had just always been and as each new species progressed to space travel and older species would introduce them to the system ad nauseum and as older species died out the information of how they learned the system died out with them.
Blinking up at Cliff, Sam shrugged. “Maybe. If I did, I didn't know it was them. There's a lot kicking around up there--” he waved at his head with spirit fingers*, “--that I'm still not sure about. But this though, it could be that someone figured the command out. So instead of going to the expected gate you'd be redirected to another one within range of the initial gate. I suppose you could do a redirect on more than one gate at a time, like phreaking a phone*, but it's not like the gate system isn't actively being used by lots of people. It'd be a big gamble to do, you could want ship A and ship B shows up instead.” He explained.
Cliffjumpers eyes glinted with interest. “So it would be very valuable to, say, a pirate to redirect your prey to you, where you've had time to prepare, as opposed to trying to attack somewhere in route.” He said thoughtfully, tapping his servo across from Sam.
It took Sam a minute to add that up and he stood up, looking at the pad and the console. “You could pick out your prey in advance. Each ship going through has to go through alone because of the mass displacement, so a guard ship wouldn't be able to follow you, not with the gate scrubbing all commands after every use.” He admitted. “But, it's just a theory.” He said, suddenly remembering himself and feeling awkward.
Cliffjumper's fields radiated [care][support], before he turned back to Topspin. “We should examine all alternative theories as well, but see if we can't get a Trine or another ::Flier:: to go check out those gates. Sam, how would someone check if there was a ‘redirect’ command once the systems been scrubbed?” The mech asked and Sam was suddenly very glad for the supplied art materials because he needed to draw several diagrams since the old system wasn't in a Cybertronian language. The ships all used the gates using the same language, a binary that was language agnostic, but the gates themselves operated like any other operating system, influenced by its makers.
“--...But if you select the…third(?), third, option on that screen, it'll give you a display of the last thousand records. There's going to be this symbol--” here he had to squiggle out a multifaceted character, then cross it out and write it clearer next to the first character before flipping to a new page, sitting on his knees, legs shaped in a W* around him as he explained. “--somewhere in the list if someone did use a redirect command.” He said proudly, straightening up the papers before continuing. “No one's going to understand what the rest of the information means but it'll have the redirect location listed as the ‘exit’ gate. I can take a look at it if so, I should be able to translate it, I think.” He smiled up from his final doodle of the console top.
Topspin and Cliffjumper looked at Sam in both astonishment and incredulity, but Cliff looked very pleased indeed. Turning to the other mech, Cliffjumper nodded. “If you could share that with upper command I think they'll see the wisdom in at least investigating the ‘redirect’ possibility.” He nodded.
Topspin, somewhat mystified, nodded. “Of course.” He said, servos carefully pinching the offered pages from Sam, subspacing them instead of attempting to hold the delicate wood product wherever he was going. He then stood there, kind of stunned, before glancing towards Sam's little gerbil cage. “Did you like it?” He asked, [embarrassment] and [hope] in his fields and voice and Sam wondered if Topspin had masterminded this or if someone else had put him up to asking or if it'd been a group project?
But the habitat had clearly been made with good intentions. And a great attention to detail. And, well, he did like it even if he found someone going through all the effort of not only building it but installing it into Cliffjumper's office a little bit much.
If I'm too much, settle for less*.
So, giving the mech a bit of a shy smile, he nodded a little. “You really didn't have to, though. I'd've been okay with like, a box to sit at.” He tried to explain.
The immediate [indignation on your behalf] stunned Sam before Cliffjumper's vents seemed to calm Topspin down, or at least calmed his fields down. Gathering himself, Topspin pressed his intake plates together and took a moment vent himself, Cliffjumper keeping a careful optics on him.
“With all due respect, it would be shameful to have you demean yourself to write The History* in such a way.” Topspin explained, causing Sam to blink as his brain tried to comprehend what Topspin had just said. “You honor us by continuing to do so, the least we can do is make sure that you're comfortable.” He said with dignity.
Frowning, unsure how to respond, Sam nudged Cliffjumpers fields, causing the red mech to lean back. “Sam liked the present, Topspin, you can let everyone know it was a success.” The mech vented, giving the giddy mech a look, “But I, personally, would appreciate it if people would check with me before adding things to my office. I don't know what I'm even going to do with a ::Geodetic Garden:: when I don't have this office anymore.” He grunted.
When Honey came out.
Topspin looked a little embarrassed, not much, but enough to let Sam know that if Topspin hadn't had a hand in the garden he at least knew who had. The mech inclined his helm, [affirmation] passing through their shields before he turned to go, mission completed.
Before he left, though, Sam turned to Cliffjumper. “It is nice, though, the garden. Very pretty.” He said loud enough that it was clear to Cliff at least that Sam had intended Topspin to hear it.
Giving Sam a flat look he sighed, leaning forward in his chair again, looking over the gate data he'd pulled up as the door slid shut behind Topspin whose fields were [jaunty]. “We didn't know anything about the redirect commands, I checked as far back as my records go through to the data crystals in the central repository.” He frowned. “How do you know about them?”
Collecting his papers and art supplies because they were very small on an extremely expensive piece of equipment that without First Aid's protection would probably have Sam convulsing on it, Sam hummed. “The…hm, how does that translate? The Spectral Delight? Anyway, it was a luxury class transport, you know, for the rich and famous.” He explained, fitting colored pencils into their boxes because the Gate Builders used color as part of their language*, “It was captured by Tenektor* pirates at the tail end of the first Golden Age.” Sam frowned, looking up at Cliffjumper. “Do you have records of them?”
Optics drifting in what Sam now recognized as checking the Network, Cliffjumper frowned. “A few references, but nothing substantial.” He admitted apologetically.
Sam waved it away. “It's okay. I think they died out when their sun went supernova unexpectedly.” He dismissed. “But anyway, they used the redirect on a gate that the ship was using. They hadn't been expecting a Cybertronian vessel, they had wanted someone else's ship but the gates in that area were being used all the time so it isn't an exact science. So, the Spectral Delight shows up and they have a firefight. The Tenektor were pretty well fortified but they were organics, much more vulnerable to space issues like decompression, so they lost. The engineering crew went through the ship to figure out how the pirates had, you know, managed to change their course.” He frowned at a crayon that didn't want to fit in its box before smiling as it slotting in. “A junior engineer found a manual that had been translated probably three or four dozen times by other species which originated, presumably, from a Gate Builders manual. He didn't know that at the time, it was just an interesting piece of scrap, but he figured it out eventually. There was a bunch of stuff in there: redirect codes, diagnostics, maintenance checklists, variable energy options of their own batteries ever ran out. If you have a big enough power source you can extend the range of the gate from here to Cybertron.” He laughed.
The expression on Cliffjumper's face was gob smacked. “And this engineer didn't share it with anyone?”
Sam shrugged. “He wasn't a gate engineer. And also, if he turned it in he'd have to admit that he'd kept it when engineers, unlike his bosses, weren't allowed to keep spoils of battle. He'd have been in big trouble. He figured that Cybertron had gotten along without a manual just fine so far so why rock the boat?” He explained before gathering all of the supplies and carefully standing up, only to realize that he was wobblier than he should have been. “Oh, I feel lightheaded.” He murmured as he started to fall before he was suddenly getting picked up.
He would have expected it to be Cliffjumper's servo, it was right there, but as the spots came and went, Sam found himself looking up at Cliffjumper’s holoform. Feeling woozy i n addition to swaying as the holoform moved them , he reached up and traced the holoforms impressive neck muscles. “You're all so handsome. It's not fair.” He muttered, leaning his head on Cliff's shoulder.
[Amused], Cliff smiled down at Sam. “I think you like us handsome.” He teased and Sam smacked at his shoulder, turning his face away in a huff before the holoform bent down carefully, depositing Sam on the couch and collected all the art supplies Sam had been using his middle to hold, setting them on the coffee table.
He also felt the telltale tingle of a scan. Even though Cliffjumper's weren't as sophisticated as First Aid's, for things like blood sugar and ::Zeph::, everyone in Sam's immediate circle had had their scanner updated to at least be able to check those two.
Frenzy had not gotten an update and had been a pissy little brat about it.
“Well, you have very low blood sugar.” Cliff hummed, pulling a glucose bag out of subspace and opening it before handing it to Sam. “Have that, I have some stuff in the refrigerator for you.” He explained before tipping Sam back to lay down on the couch by pushing Sam's head back gently.
Unwilling to fight at the moment he leaned back fully, the black spots were still there, he felt First Aid checking in and sent back a quick status update, feeling the concern from his Guardian.
‘Cliff is making me food, and I've got a glucose bag right now.’ He explained, sending the flavor of it back along their bond because he knew First Aid didn't like it.
He got a zing for his troubles, but not a hard one. ‘::Naughty boy::.’ He received back, making his smile. ‘::You will[absolutely] rest after you eat[consume]::.’ First Aid, in Guardian mode, ordered him.
This weak, Sam didn't have much in the way of desire to push back so simply sent [confirmation] in return. He felt First Aid's affectionate field spreading through his own and grew drowsy with it, the glucose baggy nearly empty in his hand and his eye lids growing heavy.
There were the sounds of footsteps, light since the holoforms were light themselves(pun!), before Sam struggled to raise his head to look at Cliffjumper’s holoform. Cliffjumper's holoform looked particularly fondly down at a sleepy Sam. “Grandpa appears again.” He teased, used to the phenomena at this point. “You eat the pasta and then you can sleep. First Aid was very clear that calories are more important.” The holoform smiled ruefully.
Yawning, Sam twisted to try to sit up but after his hands refused to actually be helpful he was forced to accept help from Cliffjumper who helped him to get vertical again, though Sam slumped back and let his head roll against the back of the sofa. It was cushy. Nice.
Reaching forward, Cliffjumper handed Sam a bowl of pasta. It was bigger than Sam expected, clearly just heated in the microwave, and Sam looked up at Cliff with betrayed eyes. “I can't eat all of this, I'll get sick.”
Nodding, Cliff handed him a fork. “You don't have to eat all of it. These things come in one size packets. Just eat what you can and then we'll save it for later.” The mech explained, though he gave no indication of leaving Sam to do so.
First Aid must have told him to make sure that Sam ate. Just because Sam had been too sleepy to eat a few times and the medic blows it out of proportion.
The tiny zing he received for that thought was expected.
Raising the bowl and the fork, Sam sighed and started eating. It wasn't that the food was bad, far from it, the food was better than most of his own groceries that Dave the Delivery Dude had gotten him (fuck you in particular*, Dave), but Sam wasn't really hungry. Well. He wasn't not hungry, he just felt super sleepy and the food was between him and a nap and thus a burden. If he didn't know why he needed to eat he wouldn't out of principle.
Jerking awake as Cliff gently removed the bowl and fork from his slack hands was deeply unpleasant, he did a whole backwards snort that got phlegm in his throat which caused him to choke and cough and the expression on the mech's face was somewhere between ‘How on Earth did you survive long enough for us to find you’ and ‘I need to wrap this thing in a blanket so it doesn't die’.
“‘m fine!” He coughed, raising a hand to cover his mouth as the pain of the phlegm going down the wrong tube caused him to continue to cough for a few more moments before he was able to breathe again. When his eyes stopped watering enough for him to see, it was to Cliff holding a glass of water just out of his flail range and monitoring his condition critically. “‘m fine.” He wheezed.
The single eyebrow lift let Sam know just how much Cliffjumper believed that. Sam didn't fight it though when the holoform handed him the glass nor defend himself more as he took small sips (‘small sips, Sammy') of the water and got his breathing under control, which was only effective for half the glass before his eyelids started to weigh more and more.
Seeing this, Cliffjumpers eyes softened. “Nap time?” He asked.
Grumbling, Sam nodded, expecting to be allowed to lay down on the couch but instead he felt the glass taken from his hands before he himself was lifted up again, sans art supplies, and carried upstairs.
“Ya don' haveta--” a big yawn interrupted Sam's argument that stretched a whole floor, “--haveta put me ta bed.” He finished in a sleepy grumble. “‘m fine on the couch.”
Bright blue eyes, which most of the former Autobots maintained even in their holoforms, smiled down at him. “I know, but the couch can only really hold one person and Will says you sleep better with someone there.” He explained.
Sam had slept in Cliffjumper more than a handful of times at this point but they'd never slept together outside of his cab. Part of Sam wondered if this was okay, since he'd be distracting Cliff and also that maintaining the holoform when the mech's systems were already being heavily strained with Honey's needs (they didn't think he knew that, but he wasn't without his own sneaky methods) should be allowed.
“Izzat ‘kay?” He mumbled, unable to articulate all of his reasoning, but also feeling very okay with the possibility if it was. Simply put, Cliff's mech form might be relatively small in comparison to some of his peers but his holoform definitely wasn't and he was generating heat that Sam could feel through his clothes and Sam was kinda cold.
[Pleased][amused][adorable] wafted through Sam's fields from Cliff and he turned his head to tuck it against the holoforms unfairly bulky shoulder as they entered the sleeping area and Sam found himself on the bed, the blanket pulled back by unseen holoform hands as Cliff removed Sam's shoes before the holoform sat down on the bed and then laid down too.
In spite of his earlier reservations Sam felt like a flower in a window as he reached for Cliffjumper like the sun. He was by this point mostly asleep but he poked at the [amusement] that Cliff felt at his behavior before he was gathered on and tucked under Cliffjumper's arm and his own arm was drawn over the holoform's midsection.
He was warm.
Chuckling above his head had Sam suspicious that he'd said that part out loud but then he was asleep and, to no one's surprise, didn't care particularly much at that point.
Sam knew that another reason that Cliff was with him was that the nightmares were always just a wrong turn at Albuquerque* away, he had them pretty randomly when he wasn’t curled up with someone else. He never remembered exactly what they were about but Will had found him wedged into some pretty weird places over the last couple months because of it. Sam didn’t have the same touchstones that he’d had at the cabin, dresser, clock, window, bed to rely on to verify that he was where he was supposed to be so it had been made worse.
But curled up with someone? It never seemed to happen. And for all that Cliffjumper was a literal brick shithouse, he was soft in the right places and Sam noticed that he’d added a ‘heartbeat’ feature that helped lull Sam, who was already one foot in Sand Land fully in. Yawning one last time, Sam stretched his legs and then was out before he could say anything else.
He did dream, but it wasn’t like his usual dreams. He was in a large road with lots of people talking, talking, talking and when he’d catch one snippet of conversation he would then lose it. “--gate system--”, “--refugee’s in transit from the Delerad system--”, “--pirate activity by VL3-TB23 again?!”, “--imperfect ore deposit--”, “--hope this email finds you well--” and so on. The harder he tried to slow himself the more difficult it was to do so, like trying to hold jello by squeezing your hand shut around it.
Eventually, though, he found a little spot of familiarity and managed to anchor himself there, pressing close to [safe][warm] and having a moment of respite in the tumultuous dream.
[Surprise][curiosity][amusement] soon followed by a soft nudge against his fields. “::Sam[precious]::?” Optimus asked and Sam felt a spark of [elation] on his own end.
“Optimus!” He enthused, snuggling close to the [safe][warm] feeling. “I got lost. And then everything was so loud and then you were quiet.” He rambled, happy for someone he knew knew. “I miss the library.” He muttered but he couldn’t remember which library he meant.
Delicately, Sam felt the soft sensation of someone stroking his fields which he leaned in to. “::Where[location] are you now::?” Optimus asked.
Looking around, Sam frowned. “It feels like a highway, but instead of cars there’s just, talking. Lots and lots of talking.” He frowned, “Where is the Delerad system? I don’t remember it.” He frowned, a word catching his interest.
[surprise][interest] followed from Optimus. “::It was once called[designated] the Jernuas[may he rest] system::.” Optimus explained gently. “::Does that name[designation] sound more familiar::?” He inquired.
Oh. Yes. That made more sense. “Yeah, it’s the one with the brown dwarf in orbit with their Blue Giant star, right?” He asked and received [confirmation] from the Prime, “Why’d they rename it?” He asked, enjoying the feeling of essentially being petted by the Primes fields and settling closer.
“::The 2nd planet[Talorius] in the system developed sentient life about 90 vorns ago*::.” Optimus explained, his fields warm around Sam. “::It seemed rude[unnecessarily] to not respect[honor] the locals[natives] word for their own system[stellar address]::.” He explained in amusement. “::How did you know about the Delerad system::?”
Giving the impression of [contentment], Sam let himself be. “Heard it.” He gestured to the highway. “There are refugees there? They’re coming home?” He asked.
[surprise][concern] flitted through the fields and Sam didn’t like that and tried to shrink away from them. There was a pause before they calmed, the Prime obviously feeling Sam’s discomfort. “::Sam[precious], did you hear[observe] this information[intel] on your ‘highway’ or somewhere else::?” The Prime asked kindly but clearly concerned.
Feeling bad, Sam sent [dejected] back. “I’m sorry, Optimus. I didn’t mean to.” He apologized, wanting [safe][warm] back.
The sensation of [warm][safe] returned, which Sam did like, and he leaned into it like a cat and a hand. “::I’m not angry, Sam[precious], but it’s important[very] that I know where[from whom] you learned that::.” Optimus explained, sending a minor [urgent] sensation across his field as someone else seemed to approach through the highway as well.
Frowning, Sam tried to remember because nothing was super clear here. “I was…on the highway. I think. I was trying to dodge the ‘gate system’?” He recalled, uncaring of the sensation of ‘other’ that was near him. “But then I had to dodge the pirates and the ore deposits and then I was being moved around anyway.” He grumped, happy that he was somewhere quiet for a bit.
“::Mr. Witwicky, do you know where[location] this information was::?” Prowl asked.
Sam perked up at Prowl’s appearance, feeling [sleepy][happy] at hearing from the mech and reaching out to tug on his field like a toddler and someone’s pant leg. “Hi Prowl!” He giggled, before remembering the Prowl liked ::Wildviper’s:: works and trying to give them to the mech. “Oh! I have something for you!”
There was [confusion][weariness][surprise][delight] as Prowl received the gift. “::Mr. Witwicky, these are all[a complete record] of Wildviper’s works[compendium]. I’ve never seen[read] many of these works before::.” The mech explained in surprise.
Pleased with himself, Sam would have nodded if he’d had a head. Wait, did he have a head? Did he have a body? While Sam was distracted by the existential question of ‘what was Sam right now’, Prowl was happily examining Sam’s gift and speaking with Optimus. “::The Archives[repository] was lost, but even so--::” Prowl explained.
Like water off a ducks back, Sam forgot what he was thinking about to reenter the conversation. “They weren’t in the Archives.” He explained distantly, sorting through the works. “‘’::Temptation::’ was too progressive to be published. I think it only got shared with a few of ::Wildvipers:: friends and colleagues. ‘::A New Cycle::’ was just plain subversive, it got him on a watchlist with the Police Defense Command.” He explained, lulling back to Optimus’s warm fields. “He has a lot of stuff like that.” He explained to the Prime.
Prime nudged Sam, [amused][pointed] “::Sam[precious], can you answer my earlier question[inquiry]::?”
Frowning in confusion, Sam pinged back [inquiry][question] and felt Optimus’s warm amusement. “::Where[location] did you hear about the Delerad[Januas] system?”
Perking up, Sam tugged on Optimus’s field like a hand and drew the large mech along with him through the highway. With the big mech with him, and Prowl behind, he wasn’t buffeted as much and was able to draw them back to where he was pretty sure he had heard the comment. “Here. I was here.” He explained, gesturing to where they now stood.
Optimus, though he and Prowl had followed him, seemed utterly confused by their current location. “::Here[location]::?”
Prowl leaned his sensation closer to them both. “::Tracking the relay[signature], Mr. Witwicky has ‘brought’ us to the 3rd level secure communications gateway. This[location] is the secure bypass for level 3 communications::.” He explained, ‘looking’ around. “::Mr. Witwicky, do you see[observe] any other…avenues(?) on this highway::?” Prowl asked.
Nodding, Sam tugged on Optimus’s fields and started walking them around. It was nice. They talked and asked questions but Sam couldn’t remember very well about what, just that once in a while they would have him see what one of the passing ‘cars’ was talking about.
It was when they were a bit away from where Sam found Optimus that it got curious.
They were in a new area, one that had much less traffic that Sam finally got a chance to really look around. “I like the spires.” He told Optimus and Prowl happily.
[Curiosity][inquiry] followed as Sam gestured beyond the highway. “The big spires! They look like…like…uh, do you remember the big old crystal in the Iacon library? Well, I guess most of the libraries, actually.” He frowned thoughtfully, thinking of the hundreds of libraries across Cybertron. A nudge redirected him and he nodded. “Like those, but…taller? They look like skyscrapers. Kinda. But crystal instead of glass.” He explained.
“::He could be talking about the Archives[repository]::.” Prowl offered.
Optimus sent confirmation. “::Sam[precious], do you hear[observe] any ‘cars’ here[location]::?”
The road was pretty quiet, but there was something coming. “Yeah, there’s one coming.” He nodded, leaning a little further into its path to listen. Except it didn’t fly by Sam like the others did, but slowed. “Um, it’s acting funny.” He said to the two mechs.
“::Funny[inquiry]::?” Prowl asked.
Sam [confirmed], “It stopped.” He explained before the car started a signal, a distress signal. “It’s mad.” He decided.
“::Mad how--::” Before suddenly there were red lights approaching from not only the highway but the towers as well, the roads leading the the towers, which Sam hadn’t noticed before because of the dim lighting, closing large gates with large red lights beyond.
“::We have received a Level[6] Security Alert::.” Prowl informed both Sam and Optimus as suddenly the red lights became almost drones while giant tanks started appearing on the roadway heading towards them.
Something tugged on Sam’s conscious, drawing his attention away from the red lights and the drones and the tanks and towards and Sam looked up at Optimus and Prowl’s presences. “I think I gotta go.” He frowned, somewhat apologetic even as he lost his grip on sleep and jerked awake.
“What…?” He frowned, eyes crusty with sleep and the wisps of dreams he had half processed slipped away like smoke in the wind.
There was a hand running over his head, calming him while [care][comfort] played along his fields, [safe] too.
There was a gentle hum, “Are you with me Sam?” Cliffjumper asked, only to get an inarticulate ‘herrrenng’ in response as Sam tried to snuggle back into the holoforms neck, making little ‘uhuh’ sounds. “Sam, sweet spark, I need you to wake up for a second, okay? You were giving off some serious ‘distress’ signals and I need to make sure that you're okay.” Said Sam's pillow and after a minute he went boneless and grumbled. “I knew you would see it my way.” The former scout joked as he carefully lifted Sam up into a sitting position.
The scan was tingly. Sam, who was slowly waking up, yawned behind one hand while the other rubbed at his eyes, accepted those tingles with nary a blink before hunching over, yawning again, and closing his eyes. “‘long wuz I as’eep for?” He mumbled, still feeling out of it.
Cliff set his hand on Sam's head, ostensibly to try to take the bed head but Sam suspected also to pet him. “A couple hours. You should finish the pasta - your blood sugars a bit low, and your calorie intake for the day is too.” He explained, unsubspacing a bottle of banana Gainz and handing it to Sam.
It was Sam's favorite, so he took it without too much side eye before opening it and taking a sip of what Sam had determined was basically a melted milkshake. One that was stable at room temperatures for an extended period of time.
It was probably riddled with micro plastics.
“There we are.” Cliffjumper murmured, leaning down and catching Sam's eye as he twisted the bottle closed again, head still tipped forward. “You want help getting downstairs?”
Feeling more asleep than awake, Sam debated if he wanted to get up but given his track record with stairs and being tired, it was asking for trouble. “C’n I stay here?” He asked instead.
Cliffjumper sighed and vented, so instead of arguing more since that would take more energy, Sam held his arms up because he wasn't sure if he could honestly stand up right now on his own, let alone make the stairs.
It was a little humiliating to be carried around like a child, Sam admitted to himself as Cliffjumper lifted him in a bridal carry, but also weirdly comfortable. He had his arms, and hands, which he was mostly using to yawn against, his body displeased with being awake. Usually after such a long nap it took him a little bit to get going but this felt like he hadn't slept at all. He felt more tired than when he'd gone to sleep.
“You sure I was sleeping?” He asked, to make conversation and ignore the fact that he was not the one ambulating down the stairs.
Chuckling, Cliffjumper nodded. “You were dreaming, so you were definitely sleeping.” The large holoform explained, finally reaching the first floor and gently setting Sam in a chair at the little bar. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”
Frowning, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes, he thought back. “Uhhhhh, I was taking Optimus somewhere. I think.” He said thoughtfully.
“Somewhere? A fun somewhere?” The holoform asked distractedly. Sam could see that most of his focus was distracted by his console, which had a lot of angry popups.
Waffling his hand, Sam continued while getting distracted by the mech's real body. “Um….maybe? I think we were not alone. I think Prowl was there too.”
“Nowhere fun then.” The mech concluded, the pasta already in the microwave. Sam must have been distracted.
Instead of responding, Sam looked at what he could of the display from the console. “What's goin’ on?” He asked.
Both Cliffjumper's looked at him before the mech went back to work. “Hacking attempt. We get them sometimes, the Chinese are particularly adept at it but they usually only hit level one. We're getting warnings that it was deeper than that this time.” He noted.
Thoughtfully, Sam opened his drink and took another sip. “Well, that's not good. Did it touch your stuff?” Sam wasn't sure how galactic logistics might interest the Chinese, or really anybody on Earth, but who knows what they would have gained from other areas in the base.
A ding heralded pasta, which Sam wasn't even hungry for, but took anyway. “Not exactly sure yet. Usually they take stuff, which leaves a mark, but nothing in the system is pinging a use stamp. And all records contain a use stamp for the last time it was even just viewed.” He explained. He looked Sam over thoughtfully, “You still seem really tired.”
Stabbing his fork into the pasta, Sam nodded even as he dragged a forkfull to his mouth. “I don't feel like I slept at all.” He complained.
There was a ping at the door, drawing both Cliff's attention, though Sam was more single mindedly trying to eat pasta so that he could go back to bed to pay attention. When Cliff sent [confirmation], though, Sam blearily blinked up at the scouts sudden confusion to find Jazz, Red Alert, Optimus and Prowl at the door.
“Hello Sam.”
