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A hiss of hydraulics announced his arrival, light filtering into the storage hull of their ship as the door opened. Optimus paused at the threshold, collecting himself before he approached the sole inhabitant of the sectioned off room.
Huddled against one of their remaining fuel crates, Bumblebee kept his helm bowed. Even as Optimus approached, he remained unresponsive with his arms locked behind his back from the spare set of stasis cuffs that every Autobot vessel kept in case of a mutiny.
Optimus never thought that he would have to use them. A precautionary tool, he assumed, nothing more.
Only, until they could get back in contact with Cybertron, it had taken on the form of being the one thing preventing Bumblebee from running off with the Allspark.
He considered for a moment finding somewhere to settle on as a perch, toying with the idea of granting Bumblebee a sense of an equal playing field, but abandoned it swiftly. Long before this… betrayal, they had emptied out their ship—ferrying as many of their supplies into the manufacturing plant as possible. They didn't remove everything, in case of a quick emergency, but their efforts had left an awkward few storage containers behind. He'd have to drag one over to maintain proximity to Bee.
And Optimus didn't intend to prolong this conversation any more than necessary.
"Bumblebee," he started, trying to catch the bot's attention. "Could you just… look at me?"
Thankfully, at least in this circumstance, the stasis cuffs were civilian-grade and didn't fully inhibit a bot from all movement. Merely, it weakened and drained them of energy consistency to the point where fighting back was an effort in futility. As such Bee pursed his lips in consideration, before lifting up his helm with a frown. Dark rings shadowed under his optics, making them about as pronounced as Ratchet's were on any given cycle.
He didn't say anything, so Optimus spoke, "Thank you." He paused, unsure as to where to lead the discussion. He had question—far too many for one sitting. And the one at the top of his computer wasn't exactly helpful nor conducive to their research into Bumblebee's goals, if he even had any other than stealing the Allspark away to Starscream or those new Decepticons that landed on Earth not even a week prior.
"Are you just here to gawk," Bumblebee asked in lieu of Optimus leading the interrogation. "Or did you actually have something to say?"
Jaw tightening, Optimus struggled to reign in his temper. "Considering the reveal that you were working for the Decepticons the entire time, I think I'm entitled to a moment of wondering where to even start with you."
Bee flinched, rearing back against the crate. The sound of his back plates slamming against it echoed through the otherwise empty hull as his optics brightened to such a degree that they spiraled out and curtained the entire screen in white.
Anger simmering, Optimus felt a lingering sense of guilt at the way that Bumblebee shivered. Prior to Bumblebee's paltry attempt at sabotage, he had never failed to match intensity with Optimus when he felt as though he were acting too harsh. So to see him now quivering in fear at the Prime, well, it didn't exactly leave a good feeling in his spark.
Partially apologetic, he held out a servo, "Let's… start over. From the beginning this time. Sound good?"
"… okay."
"Were you always a Decepticon or," had he failed him as a leader so spectacularly that yet another friend found their way into Megatron's clutches, "Are you a turncoat?"
"I…" Frightened, Bumblebee curled his side against the crate. "No, I am– was. I was an Autobot from forging. I didn't lie about that, you can check my spark-records. South Iacon factory district, it's all there on my file."
"Alright." Optimus decided to believe him. "That begs the question: when did you desert the Commonwealth?"
Bumblebee looked genuinely pained, facial sculpt harrowed by the question. He refrained from answering, as though he physically couldn't get the words out. Optimus didn't understand why and that–
That was all he wanted, at the end of the cycle. To understand. "Bumblebee, I know it doesn't seem it, but I want to help you. If someone is threatening you or you're not safe, we can do something about it. Get you out. But I can't do that if you don't tell me everything now as a show of goodwill."
"You…" He struggled to continue. "Puh– Promise?"
Fundamentally, Optimus couldn't promise that Bumblebee wouldn't face any sort of consequences. If Ultra Magnus deemed his defection as a transgression too great, he'd get sent to the Autobot Penitentiary Stockades. And that was a death sentence all things considered.
Althouhg… Keeping this… incident under the table… Not reporting it to the Magnus… If everyone were in agreement to let it stay between all of themselves as a simple 'lapse in judgment'… Only then could Bumblebee live a free life after what he attempted to do.
"I promise," Optimus lied. He'd table it for now, his spark waging war against his logic network.
The hope glistening in Bumblebee's optics nearly made up his mind on the spot. His lip wobbled as he nodded slightly and answered Optimus' previous question, "During boot camp."
"That far back?" Optimus couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. That meant that in the entire time he had known Bumblebee, there wasn't a single moment where he wasn't an agent for the Decepticons. "What happened?"
"I overheard a spy. And then I thought I caught him—Wasp—but it wasn't actually him." Shame steeped into Bee's voice, "Wasp was sent to the stockades and the real spy he– He let me know. That I sent the wrong mech to prison and that he… That he had no intention of letting me go."
A deluge of information, of which Optimus quickly sorted through all of it by importance. Hearing that Bumblebee had accused and doomed another mech to the same fate that Optimus was trying to save him from sparked conflict in his computer. On the one hand, an injustice had occurred… But on the other came the relief of knowing that Bumblebee himself hadn't betrayed the entire institution that he had sworn to defend. Optimus could work with this, they could work together to solve everything.
And yet, knowing that the real spy had continued with his infiltration without discovery shot to the top of his priority list. Filing away the matter of Wasp for later, he honed in on the main admittance, "So you're being blackmailed then? By who?"
"I– I don't want to die." Bumblebee shook his helm back and forth, beyond distressed. His plating rattled. "He's going to kill me if I tell you."
Despite everything the Academy taught him, Optimus rushed to kneel at his side. It could have easily been a ruse or yet another lie, but Optimus would rather risk the chance of Bee escaping from the cuffs and stabbing him with his stingers if it meant that he had gotten it all wrong. Bumblebee, while not exactly innocent, hadn't joined the Decepticons of his own free will as opposed to turning his back on all of them.
With a firm hand against one of Bee's wheel wells, he said, "Bumblebee, remember my promise? I'm going to keep you safe— He can't get you from here, hell, Cybertron as a whole doesn't even know where we are. You're the furthest away from him as you're ever going to get. All I need is a name, okay?"
"No, you don't understand–!"
Frustrated, he raised his voice, "Then tell me! Why not? Why won't you say his name?"
"Yes," Bumblebee said, calming in an instant. A monotonous lilt entered his voice, "Go on. Tell him."
Optimus jerked away as though Bumblebee were contagious with Cosmic Rust. His servo itched to reach around and ready his ax, but the bound bot didn't make any moves to follow. Instead, his optics scanned the room with a facial sculpt devoid of all emotion—almost as though he didn't know how.
"How disappointing," he stated, as his optics landed back on Optimus. "He gave up without much a fight. Perhaps you weren't as inspiring as you thought with those so-called promises. Or perhaps I have conditioned obedience a little too well. It isn't as fun when he isn't trying."
Tense, Optimus clenched a fist. He didn't know how, but… "You're the spy, aren't you?"
"I won't dignify a generic question with an even more obvious answer."
It revolted him, to see how at home the Decepticon made himself in Bumblebee's frame A sudden clarity sprung up in his computer as to why Bumblebee had been scared beyond measure—the spy must have been lingering in the back of his computer the entire time, waiting to take remote control over his mainframe as soon as it seemed likely that Bumblebee would seek help or blow his cover.
And that thought extended past these walls and even further beyond the ship. Because had that always been the case, from the entire time that Optimus had been stationed as this little repair team's captain? And he just… never noticed?
How many times had Optimus blown off one of Bumblebee's mercurial moods? Dismissing the way that his reactions to plans and missions swung back and forth like a pendulum? Worse, what if this had been the only time that the spy felt it necessary to intervene? Only doing so to plant a seed of doubt in Optimus' computer to send him spiraling in recall.
Could he communicate to Bumblebee through his internal connection? Prompting commands to hinder their missions, all without actively piloting Bumblebee's frame? When Bumblebee had smashed open the container that they kept the Allspark in, how much of that was him acting at the whims of the spy and how much of that had been an out of body experience?
After Bulkhead had knocked him straight offline, did he wake up confused and unaware as to why they had locked him away in the hull? Or did he know exactly what was happening the entire time, a prisoner in his own frame?
Optimus had never heard of a scenario like this occurring during the Great War in all of his research. Frankly, the idea that such technology existed now sent chills down his spinal strut. But that fear turned into fury at the realization that the spy had used Bumblebee to test it out.
With a scowl, Optimus said, "I'd apologize for not making your acquaintance sooner, but I'm fairly certain that frame doesn't belong to you."
"How absurd. Everything about Bumblebee belongs to me." The spy maneuvered Bee's frame like a well-used puppet, rolling his optics. He looked off to the side, distracted by something not on their side of the connection, "But do go on and waste time. You only have me for a moment, I have important work that needs seeing to."
What an irksome prick. "I don't suppose you'll hand over your designation that easy if I just ask, huh?"
"Hm, you would like that wouldn't you?"
"Then we have very little to discuss. Bring Bumblebee back, now." He emphasized the statement by finally pulling out his ax. Of course, the threat was a bluff as he had very little desire to harm Bumblebee whilst this Con hijacked him.
"Really?" Tilting Bumblebee's helm to the side, he went, "Not even a passing inquiry as to how I created a gateway between his computer and my own far superior one? It's really quite interesting the backdoor your factories leave in his newest generation of bots."
As if. "I'm not really interested in listening to you boast, no. Give him back."
"Autobot's," he scoffed. "So wasteful. Very well, I have already achieved my purpose here. Isn't that right, Bumblebee?" All at once, Bumblebee crumpled in on himself, his helm clattering against the ground. He heaved, curling in on himself.
Optimus refrained from approaching, having learned his lesson well and good. However, that didn't stop him from reaching out to ask, "Bumblebee, are you back? Is he… gone?"
"See?" Bumblebee rocked slightly, self-soothing as his optic shutters squeezed shut. Practically hysterical, he said, "He's never gone. I can't tell you anything, I just can't."