Chapter Text
“So ... what do we know about this guy?” Sam asked, flipping through the file folder as he hurried to catch up to Lennox. The hallway was painted in military-grade beige and white, with scuffmarks on the walls and a tiled floor that had seen better days, and he knew from experience that the conference room wasn’t likely to be much more comfortable. That alone told Sam that whoever they were there to meet wasn’t deemed important enough by the brass to merit special treatment. Yet he was still important enough for the USAF to fly halfway around the world to Diego Garcia, just to have this meeting.
Sam had to wonder about the military’s priorities, sometimes.
The NEST commander shrugged, hands in his pockets as he waited for Sam outside the conference room door. He was in the standard combat uniform, not service dress; another sign about the casual nature of this particular interview. “Not much--got a call at oh-dark-thirty and told to go talk to this guy; apparently he’s got some intel on some Cybertronian technology hidden here on Earth. He’s an American civilian, I know that much.”
“American--and they flew him all the way out here just to find out what he knows?” Sam said skeptically. “It must be something important, whatever it is.” Which then begged the question of exactly why *they* were the ones talking to him, instead of the CIA. Or the FBI, or Sector 7--or whatever had replaced Sector 7. Sector 7 and a half? Sector We’re-Not-Really-7-More-Like-An-8?
“Who knows?” Lennox tilted his head towards the room. “Guess that’s what we’re here to find out. Shall we?”
“Just a sec.” Sam fiddled with the tiny bluetooth headset hooked over his ear. “You still with us, Optimus?”
//I am receiving you just fine, Sam.// No matter how many times he did this, hearing Optimus’ resonant voice in his ear--made only slightly tinny by the limitations of the headset--never got old. It was like having a shoulder angel--albeit one of the large, well-armed and alien variety.
Optimus is my co-pilot, Sam thought to himself--not for the first time--and did his best not to snigger. Ambassador-consultant-liasion-whatevers to the military did not giggle before important meetings. At least, he was pretty sure they didn’t.
“We’re good,” he told Lennox, giving him the thumbs up. The older man nodded, and opened the door.
****
The man waiting for them was nothing like Sam had expected. Admittedly he hadn’t been given a chance to do more than glance over the dossier that someone had shoved at him, but still, he’d expected someone a little less ... ordinary. Someone ex-military, maybe, or a scientist. Or maybe a wild-eyed conspiracy theorist, the kind who forgot to bathe and wrote manifestos, if you wanted to get really interesting.
The man sitting on the other side of the table, hands curled around a styrofoam coffee cup, wasn’t any of those things. He wore a button-down shirt, a tie, and an old-fashioned suit jacket, a little worn on the elbows and wrinkled from travel. He looked more like Sam’s grandfather than anything--elderly, a little stooped, and obviously tired.
Glancing over at Lennox, Sam took the initiative, walking over to pull out a chair on the opposite side of the table. Politicians he knew how to handle. Military personnel he mostly left to Lennox. He wasn’t about to interrogate the old man in front of him, Simmons-style, so what was he supposed to do?
“Um ... hi.” Great opener, genius. Let’s try to at least act like what we know what we’re doing. Offering his hand to shake, he decided introductions were the safest bet. “This is Colonel Lennox, commander of NEST, and I’m Sam Witwicky, human liasion to the Autobots.” Which was a job title that he’d never, ever be able to use on any resume. Not that it mattered. He’d pretty much resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t likely to have a ‘normal’ job ever again anyway. Especially considering what had happened with his last one. “I hear you wanted to talk to us, Mr.--?”
“Hughes,” the man said, half-standing to shake Sam’s hand briefly, then Lennox’s. If he was surprised at Sam’s relative youth, he didn’t show it. “I remember you. You were the kid the robots were looking for a few years back, right?”
Sam grimaced. Get your picture on an alien ‘Most Wanted’ poster and broadcast over every single media outlet in the world, and suddenly you’re famous. Yet another thing he could thank the Decepticons for. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Hughes gave him a wry look, oddly kind under the wrinkles and the weariness. “My sympathies.”
“Thanks. Part of the job, I’m afraid,” Sam said easily, used to dismissing it as if it were nothing important. Like echoes of fire and the memory of Megatron’s snarl--‘I can smell you, BOY’--didn’t still wake him up screaming sometimes.
Lennox shifted, slinging his arm over the back of his chair. “You have quite a bit of clout, Mr. Hughes,” he observed neutrally. “Enough to get yourself flown all the way out here just to talk to us. General Morshower even vouched for you; said this was important.”
Hughes gave them another of those wry, tired smiles. “No clout, Colonel. I’m a nobody important, just a retired high school teacher who was stubborn enough to camp out on your general’s doorstep. It took me almost a year before I could get anyone to listen, much less take me seriously. And the only reason I got even that far was because I--well, I knew a friend of his, once.” He looked down at the coffee cup cradled in his hands, taking a deep breath. In that moment, Sam realized that Hughes wasn’t just jet-lagged. He was scared. But of what?
Hughes lifted his head and continued, “I don’t mean any disrespect, sir--to either of you--but I didn’t come here to talk to you. I came here to talk to your robots. The--Autobots.”
*That* made Lennox’s eyebrows go up. He glanced over at Sam, but Optimus stayed silent, and all Sam could do is give him a helpless shrug. Lennox turned his attention back to their guest, leaning forward and folding his arms on the table. “Mr. Hughes, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but this is a military base. This is not some kind of zoo or circus sideshow where people can come to gawk at the aliens. The fact that the Autobots even *exist* was highly classified information up until a few years ago.”
Classified until the Decepticons decided to occupy and lay waste to downtown Chicago, Sam mentally translated. Hard to keep the existence of giant alien robots classified when they kept on destroying national landmarks and massacring large swathes of your population.
“Colonel,” Hughes said quietly, “I can assure you that ‘gawking’ is the last thing on my mind.” He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Honestly, I’ve been arguing with myself about whether I should do this for years. And I would love to ask you all sorts of questions about these ‘Autobots’ of yours. But let’s be realistic; you have no reason to tell me the truth, and every reason to lie.” He gave them both a level look, and oddly enough, there was no anger in his voice as he continued.
“So I’ll put my cards on the table. Yes, I have a secret, and yes, it’s about something alien. Something some people would say is dangerous. But before I hand over that secret to you, I need to know if I can trust you. If I can trust *them*. Or whether they’re just like the other ones, the ones who killed all those innocent people.” His face hardened into stubborn lines. “Because if they are … or if they’re just some kind of--of robot weapon for the military--then you’re not getting a single damn word out of me, no matter what.”
Despite himself, Sam was impressed. Hughes’ stubbornness was either very brave or very stupid, considering that right now the man was stuck on a base a thousand miles from anywhere, surrounded by people who could make him disappear faster than you could say ‘Guatanamo’, if they really, really felt like it.
Lennox didn’t look all that intimidated. He did look more than a little exasperated, however, as he leaned back in his chair and gave Sam a Look. It was one Sam was becoming quite familiar with--the one that said, ‘You’re the Autobot liasion. So liase already.’
Sam considered his options--then did what any self-respecting bureaucrat would do. He kicked it up the chain of command.
“Optimus?” he said, looking up at the black globe of the security camera in the corner. Hughes blinked, glancing over his shoulder in confusion as if he expected to see whoever Sam was talking to.
There was a momentary pause. Then Optimus answered, //I do not believe he means us any harm. He obviously believes the information he carries is important; if Colonel Lennox is in agreement, I am willing to meet with him.//
“All right.” Sam pushed back from the table, standing up. “You’re in luck, Mr. Hughes. Optimus says he’s willing to talk.” He glanced over at Lennox. “With your permission, Colonel?”
Lennox frowned, but nodded. He didn’t much like ultimatums, but it wasn’t as if the man hadn’t been background checked, searched, and scanned to within an inch of his life before ever setting foot on base. If this was some kind of trap, they’d just have to find out the hard way, just like they always did. Pushing to his feet, he headed for the door. “Follow me, Mr. Hughes.”
It wasn’t far to the main hangar; one of several that had been converted for combined Autobot/human occupancy. The tropical heat outside was a slap in the face after the air-conditioned cool of the administrative building, and Sam kept an eye on Hughes. He’d been here long enough that it didn’t bother him, but the older man was obviously not used to it, and heatstroke was nothing to play around with. The main bay doors were closed, so Sam led them around to one of the human-sized entrances, swiping his security badge and pressing a palm against a panel to disengage the biometric lock.
Inside, the hangar was a well-lit, cavernous space filled with scaffolding, communications equipment, assorted human personnel--and Optimus Prime.
This spiel, at least, Sam had down pat. “Mr. Hughes, I’d like you to meet Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. Optimus, this is Mr. Hughes.” He loved this part: watching the awe and wonder on people’s faces as they came face-to-face with a thirty-foot tall alien living legend for the very first time.
“It is an honor, Mr. Hughes,” Optimus rumbled, turning to face them and inclining his head with grave courtesy.
Nonplussed, Hughes adjusted his glasses, squinting up at the Autobot leader. “Huh.” He glanced over at Sam. “No offense, but ... I thought he’d be taller.”