Chapter Text
What... what happened? Where am I? I must’ve passed out, but... when? How? I can’t seem to remember any accidents. In fact, it feels like my entire memory core is scrambled. Oh no, something’s wrong and I don’t know what to do. Where do I go? Who do I see? My servos are jittering, my vision is blurring, and what’s this loud whine in my audio receptors?
Wait... I hear a voice. “Hang in there, scout.” it says, “Everything will be alright.” It’s weird, I don’t recognize this voice, but... it’s strangely calming. I guess it’s just good to know I’m not alone.
Now, just try to piece everything together. Start from the beginning... that’s right. Iacon courier unit. Designation: B-127. My job is to deliver messages. Wait, how could I have blacked out when delivering messages? Impact on the road? Solar storm?
No, don’t rush yourself, Bee. Is there anything else you’re forgetting? Wasn’t there a war? Yeah... a war. Something about an uprising in Kaon... that gladiator, Megatron. Gathered himself a band of revolutionaries, called themselves Decepticons. Does that have something to do with... whatever this is? Was I... involved in this war?
“We got another one wounded, Red!” the voice shouts, “Fragging ‘cons will scrap anything that moves.”
Yeah, that’s right. Optimus Prime... he was raising an army against the Decepticons. I tried to enlist... didn’t even make it through basic training. What was it they called me? That’s right, bumbling Bee. Definitely wasn’t going into active combat anytime soon. But then why do I keep seeing flashes of spilled energon, and hearing the sound of laser fire? If I never made it through boot camp, how did I end up on a battlefield?
Wait a minute... armies need couriers, too, don’t they? Yeah, it’s coming back to me. Optimus said that he needed someone to deliver his orders, when he couldn’t do it in person. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity to help out... yeah, that’s how I made it to the battlefield. I had a message to deliver.
The message! I jerk up off of my back and try to scream, but... nothing comes out. Everything I say is garbled. Dear Primus, what happened to me?! I comb through my memory bank, every last gigabyte... but there’s no cohesive data. I start babbling again, but this time I’m not even trying to say anything.
Then I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Easy there, kid.” the voice says again. I lower myself back down onto the... am I on a stretcher? Yeah, it’s a stretcher.
Wait... there’s a little more to the memory. A face... Megatron’s face. But when could I have fought Megatron? Even if I could’ve, why would he have bothered with me? Did I know something he didn’t... or did he just not want me to deliver my message?
What was that message, anyway? Something about all sparks? Yeah, something like “get all sparks off the planet.” But what does it mean? Oh no, my vision’s blurring again. I think I’m blacking out! I can’t see! Someone help! I’m about to pass out!
Wait... I’m awake. And I feel... different now. Like... better. It’s weird, I never realized how much pain I was in until it was over. But where am I? And what’s this bright light in front of my face?
“Good, you’re awake.” the voice says to me, “Looks like you’re feeling better.” I sit up and try to respond, but it still comes out as a series of garbled bleeps. What’s happened to my voice? Why hasn’t someone fixed it yet? They... are... going to fix it, right? Of course they are, there’s got to be something they can do... isn’t there?
“I’m sorry, Bee,” he says, “but I’m afraid your speech synthesizer was... damaged beyond repair. We’re currently looking into a transplant, but there’s not many to go around.” I look off to one side, and let out a whine. I feel a hand touch mine, and I look back to the source of the voice.
I realize now that I never got a good look at him before. His body is painted white all over, with some red highlights to indicate that he’s a medic, with some power-pulse lines on his shoulders for good measure. He has a black forehead crest, but one side appears to be broken off.
“I know, it’s tough, Bee.” he says, “I can’t imagine how awful it must be to lose something like that. But just... try to understand. The fact that you’re even online right now is a miracle unto itself.” He’s definitely right about that. I suppose I should just be happy for that... even if I’ll never be able to speak again...
“You have every right to be upset,” he says, “but trust me, it’ll get better. And I’ll do everything I can to help you.” the medic let go of my hand and stood up, “For now, you should get some rest. And if you ever need anything, just call for Ratchet. Okay, friend?” he walks out of the room, and I lie back down on the metal berth.
Ratchet, huh? That’s the bot who saved my life... Ratchet... my friend...