World of Steam: Chapter 16

Chapter 16

     The Bumblebee rolled to a stop in front of the Castle Hotel.  Mikaela glanced out at the magnificent structure.  Following an afternoon of heat and adventure she was grateful to be back at the hotel.

     The courtyard consisted of a small circular drive for guests to pull their buggies and carriages up close to the door inside of which was a small gazebo with flowering bushes.  Four large statues flanked the front of the building.  Each was an angel with impressive wings, their heads overlapping the second story window.  Many of the hotels and theaters in the city were purchasing such fixtures to attract more attention from the fair goers.  Mikaela had overheard the staff speculating that they were just plaster and paint, like the statues in the fair.  Despite their scorn she found that she enjoyed looking at the serene faces and graceful limbs.  It certainly added to the grandeur of the hotel.

     Mikaela stepped out of the carriage, followed closely by Perceptor.  She hadn't been offended that they didn't want to include her in their caper, it wasn't like she had pants to wear this time.  The skirt, which had a proper bustle on it, was hard enough to just walk in.  There was no way she could run in it.  She hadn't even been upset when they wanted her to wait at the hotel rather than going to the fireworks at the waterfront.  There was one thing she had been looking forward to, and by the late hour it was looking like she wouldn't be able to.  “Mr. Witwicky, aren't you coming?It'll be dinner soon.”

     The old man gave her a pained expression , “I know you wanted to go to a formal dinner here, but really it's just an ill-lit room that they like to pretend is opulent.  It's not as special as you think.”

     She crossed her arms, “It's got a crystal chandelier, if that's not opulent I don't know what is.

     Hawthorne grimaced.  He'd been to plenty of fancy dinners in his time and never had seen the appeal of them, “How's this?  You can go up to the room with Perceptor and have food brought up to you or you could go to dinner alone.”  

     The girl bit her lip, “But wouldn't people look askance at a woman dining alone?”

     “If anyone asks, I am your guardian and I give you permission to go by yourself.  Now get a move on!  I have places to be!” He slammed the door to the steam wagob and signaled Bumblebee to continue on.  

     Mikaela gathered her skirts, trying not to sulk as they entered the hotel.  She couldn't ask someone like Hawthorne to understand her position. How could she explain to him how as a little girl she had longed to be one of those lovely ladies she saw depicted in the newspapers' society columns without losing his respect?  He and her uncle scoffed at the high class women, dismissing them as brainless or lazy.  Yet, there was still a part of her that wanted to be swept off her feet by some handsome young man and treated to a life of leisure.  A part that wanted to no longer have to struggle to make her own way through life, beating back nay-sayers and critics with every breath.  She had the choice of being herself and struggling to be happy or give up herself and live a life of pleasure.  A sharp feeling of self-pity nestled between her shoulder blades.

     The staff didn't even acknowledge Perceptor as they walked past to the guest staircase.  They weren't the only ones staying at the Castle Hotel with automatons in tow.  There weren't many guests about, it being dinner time, and the two reached their room without incident.  Mikaela considered her options, drumming her fingers on the edge of the nightstand.

     The girl sighed aloud, making Perceptor look up from where he was reading another book at the foot of the bed.  “Is something wrong, Mikaela?”

     Mikaela stared at the floor uncomfortably, picking invisible lint off her dress, “That's the dinner chime...  You wouldn't understand.”

     The little autobot frowned, “I don't believe that's true, I get hungry also.  I must consume energy the same as you, although I do require sustenance less often.”

     Mikaela smiled, “No, that's not it.  I could easily order dinner up here.  It's just that I was really hoping to have a formal dinner here at the hotel.  I've never had the chance to.”

     “Is that such an important thing?” Perceptor was well aware that he didn't understand the human culture very well.  There were many traditions he didn't understand about his own culture, but he was aways curious to find out about them.  He turned his full attention to Mikaela, patiently awaiting an explanation.

      “Well, country girls like me doesn't often have a chance to dine in such a nice hotel.  I saw the dining room before I came up, it was beautiful!” She smiled in anticipation, “I'm sure they serve several different fancy courses in a dinner... All those fine ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to know what it feels like to be one of them at least for a night.”

     Perceptor shook his head, “I don't understand why food would make you feel different, or why you wish it to.”

      “It's a human need I think... to feel for a few hours that you're not who you are.  To pretend you're not just a... a shop girl with delusions of grandeur,” smiled Mikaela sadly. “But I can't go alone to dinner.  Well, not can't so much as I don't want to.  I'm tired of being by myself.”

     Perceptor was having trouble concentrating on what she was saying.  There was a low level buzzing feedback in his audio receptors, like a sound on the edge of hearing.  It was getting harder to ignore as time went by.  He shrugged, carefully using a scrap of card to mark the place in his book, “If it means that much to you, I will accompany you,” Mikaela stared at him blankly.  The little autobot rubbed his head awkwardly, “I mean, er, if that would be alright?  They didn't seem surprised to see me when I came in...”

     Mikaela smiled, considering his offer.   He was small enough to fit comfortably through the doors and sit at the table without breaking anything.  She hopped off the bed, grabbing his arm and hauling him towards the door.  “How can I refute such a gallant gesture, Perceptor?”

     What exactly have I gotten myself into?

-----

     Mikaela twisted her handkerchief in her hands, “B-but won't you please, just for this evening?”

     “I'm sorry, Miss, but we don't allow things in the dining room,” said the head waiter.  He was a stuffy looking man with a thick, probably false, French accent.  Even though he was barely the same height as Mikaela, his withering look made her feel like a scrubby, ill kept little waif.  He waved his hands at Perceptor, “Go on then, shoo.”

     “Excuse me, Francois, but is there a problem?” asked a cultured voice over Mikaela's shoulder.

     “Ah!  Dr. Mays!  How good to see you down here, sir,” the waiter's accent faltered a little in surprise.  “The young miss was attempting to bring her, ah, friend in with her and I told her it simply wouldn't be allowed.”

     Mikaela felt even more flustered.  Dr. Mays was tall and broad shouldered, a neatly trimmed beard framed his handsome face.  His smile was warm and genuine as he waited for her to explain.  She pushed stray hairs away from her face nervously, “Well, sir, I- that is my guardian hasn't come back from the fair yet and I did want to go to dinner, the dining room is so lovely-”

     “You think so?  I thank you then, I don't often get to hear what my guests think of my décor,” he stared at the dining room appraisingly.

     Mikaela flushed in surprise, “T-this is your dining room- er I mean this is your hotel?”

     “Yes, it is.  I apologize, my name is Dr. Antone May,” he scooped up Mikaela's hand and kissed suavely.

     “I'm Mikaela Banes, it's nice to meet you, sir,” A doctor and the owner of his own hotel?  The man was obviously quite wealthy and cultured.  Mikaela felt out of place.

     “The pleasure is mine, I get to meet so few of my guests... personally.  Perhaps in lieu of your automaton friend you'd be willing to dine with me?  It's always nice to sit and talk with a lovely young lady like yourself.  ” At her hesitation he added quickly, “If you think your guardian would approve.”

     “I... well,” she looked at Perceptor, who shrugged minutely under his gaudy collar. It was obvious that this was something that Mikaela wanted and it would give him the chance to check out that odd feedback he was getting from the upper floors.  Turning back to her new suitor, Mikaela smiled sweetly,  “I suppose that should be alright.  You are obviously a gentlemen of good standing.”

     “Well,” he turned and offered her his arm, “I am a doctor after all.”
------

     Wheeljack flinched a little as another loud bang exploded at the other end of the fair grounds.  Bumblebee sighed, “You'd think with all the explosions you're around you'd be fine with a few of these little ones.”

     The engineer stared as the firework faded in the distant sky, “It's one thing when they're my explosions.  Plus I've had four million years of peace and quiet.  You sure that no one is going to see us, Sam?”

     Sam nodded, a little sad that he didn't get to watch the fireworks.  They'd be going all out this year for the World's Fair.  The pops he was hearing now were just amateurs setting off their own explosions.  The main event wouldn't start for another hour or so.  His grandfather had begged out of the mission, hailing a cab to points unknown after Bumblebee had returned him to the fair.  “Yeah, I'm sure. Everyone is going to be watching the fireworks.  Well, everyone but us.”

     “Aww, don't feel so bad, Sam.  We'll make it up some other time,” Blaster smiled.  His hunger for metal seemed to have finally abated for the evening, and a snack of energon goodies Ratchet had made for them before they left seemed to fill his empty tank.  The problem was he'd consumed all of the energon.  Bumblebee had been concerned that Blaster would get overloaded, but with all the metal he'd ingested as well it seemed to be settling well.

     “Sure, as soon as 'Jack gets another permanent lab you'll see fireworks all the time,” Bee laughed.

     Wheeljack rolled his optics.  He was used to his experiments being the source of amusement for the other autobots, at least it kept things lighthearted.  The two younger bots seemed to be taking things easy tonight.  Wheeljack wasn't quite so certain of the success of this mission.  Just because these Iron Knights were spark-less constructs didn't mean they didn't pose a threat.  He wasn't going to let his guard down.  Nervously he checked the signal one last time.  It was definitely coming from the event tent.  The source had to be the Iron Knights somehow.  But how could non-sentient contraptions be giving off an Autobot signal?

     The tent city on the edge of the Fair, which held the temporary homes for the less fortunate or more hardy of the vendors, was completely still and dark tonight.  There were no witnesses to their strange procession, not even those who would normally be cleaning up after the fair goers were gone. Everyone was at the fireworks display.

     Bumblebee admired the sculptures as they passed through the deserted streets of the White City.  In the darkness the false-fronted buildings didn't show the deterioration that seven months of weather had done, they looked as impressive as the day they were first erected.  Still, the fair didn't seem as exciting to him without the humans to give it life.  He silently hoped that there would be a day when he could walk freely down their streets without inducing a panic.

     “It's just through here,” said Sam, pointing to the dark tent.  There was one guard out front, but he was sleeping.  An empty bottle of rum was the soldier's only companion tonight.  

     Bushes and statuary that had acted as cover for Blaster and Perceptor earlier were now obstacles for the larger bots.  Wheeljack gingerly clomped around the headless cupid, keeping a weather eye on the sleeping guard.  Silently they snuck through the tent flaps, Wheeljack bringing up the rear.  His optics switched to complete night vision, the thick material of the tent blotting out not only the moon but the fireworks as well.

      “They're huge!” Bumblebee stared up at the foreign robots.  The winged one stood about as tall as he did, but the other two towered over Wheeljack.  He estimated that the largest was probably taller than Optimus, maybe as big as Sentinel Prime himself.  It was hard to tell exactly how large it was since it was sitting on the floor, a pile of blankets in it's lap.

     Sam frowned, “This is sort of weird, they weren't like this when we left earlier.”

     “Do you think someone asked for a demonstration later?” asked Bumblebee.

     Blaster shook his head, “No, Hawthorne had us hiding out there forever.  ...Until they took all the lights out and everything.”

     Sam moved over to  poke at the pile of blankets in the big one's lap, “So, what do you suppose all this is about?”

     Suddenly the blankets sat up.  A blonde head rose out of the tangle, a derringer in one tiny hand.

      “Whoozat?  What's going on?  I'm not afraid to shoot!”

     “It's that Maggie- woman!” said Blaster in a stunned voice.  

     The woman's blue eyes went round as she focused on the nearest pair of glowing optics, “What in God's name?!”

     “Aw Primus, tell me I'm not going to get shot again!” cringed Blaster, raising his arms in defense.  “Please, lady, we don't mean no harm.”

      “We're going to turn on a light and if you could please not scream, that'd be real great.”  Bumblebee fiddled with the tiny human lantern.  As the light filled the tent he heard the woman gasp.  Blaster relaxed as she lowered her firearm, “You!  You were in the fountain!  Oh my lord, am I dreaming?” She patted her arm and pinched it harshly, “Yowch!  I am awake!” She stumbled out of the nest of blankets, over the leg of the Iron Knight, and towards Bumblebee, who happened to be closest to her.  “What, what are you?!  Where did you come from?”

     “Well if you just calm down-” said Blaster in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.

     “Wait-” she rounded her glare back at him, “I first noticed you when Hawthorne was prattling on, did he send you after me?!  Did he send you after them?!” She gestured wildly at the dormant mechs, her white night shirt fluffing around her like a cape.  Sam turned beet red and looked back at the doorway as Maggie continued speaking, “I won't let you have them!  You can't destroy them!”

     “PLEASE,” said Wheeljack, the lights of his ears blinking emphatically, “Lady, calm down.  We're not here to hurt anyone.  We just came to see these... Iron Knights.  As you can see we couldn't come to the opening because we'd have been a bit of a distraction.”

     “And we wouldn't have been able to meet and talk with you then either!  And I'm sure you can answer our questions about them much better,” added Bumblebee quickly.

     Maggie stared at them, slowly dropping her arms.  “First... who are you?  I mean really? ”

     Blaster snapped his fingers and gave Bumblebee a look, a message silently wafting through their comms.  Bumblebee nodded almost imperceptibly and propelled Sam forward.  The boy glanced at Maggie, his eyes wandering down towards her night shirt.  He crossed his arms, looking away again, his blush deeper.  He could hear his friend sigh in frustration, “This is Sam Witwicky-”

     “Hawthorne's grandson?”

     “Yes!” said Blaster, “He's a brilliant kid.  He made all of us!”

     Maggie contemplated the pair skeptically, “Oh really?”

     Sam shrugged, getting the idea, “Repaired he means!  I repaired them... my father and grandfather helped obviously.”

     “Right, right.  Sam copied human brain waves to create our personalities,” said Blaster, ignoring Wheeljack's pained look.

     She's never going to fall for this!  This is completely ridiculous! commed the Engineer.  The humans don't possess a fraction of the equipment needed to accomplish something like that.

     Shut-up, Wheeljack, and try to look convincing, replied Bumblebee, the encouraging smile he was giving the human scientist didn't faltered.

     Maggie rushed over to grab Sam by the arm, “Is this true?  Really?  You must tell me all about it!”

     “Uh, well, sure!,” squeaked Sam, his voice breaking.  He swallowed a few times, “I mean, you already know what Grandpa did... Hey what are you doing in here anyway?”

     Maggie dropped Sam's arm and looked embarrassed herself, “Well, the Knights don't like me sleeping in strange places without them around...”

     Sam gave her a look, “You mean you don't like sleeping in strange places-”

     Maggie shook her head, “Oh no, I don't mind at all.  But Grimlock-”

     “What?” asked Blaster.

     “Grimlock, that's his name,” She pointed to the large mech with the nest of blankets in his lap.  “The flier is Swoop and the other one is Slag,” she gave the other tank-mech a speculative look, “Slag isn't quite so bothered by having me away, but then he's not exactly the best team player.  Well... none of them are anyway.  I think I'm the only one that can get them to work together at all.”

     “The programming must be extremely difficult,” said Wheeljack, his interest piqued.

     Maggie shrugged, “It's not the programming.  The programming is flawless.  I should know,” she laughed, “I did it myself.  But... it's their personalities.  Grimlock always wants to be the leader and Swoop is sort of scatterbrained... and then Slag doesn't really like anyone.  He just likes to break stuff.  It's hard enough to get them to agree on what story they want me to tell them at bedtime!”

     Wheeljack stared at the human woman blankly.  Blaster leaned in close and whispered, “Sheeee's loooost iiiit.”

     Sam nodded slightly, “Yeah, but I'm going to wait till she's not around those giants to discuss that with her.”

     Maggie sighed, “You're not getting it at all.”

     Bumblebee gave her a look, “Oh we're getting it.”

     “They each have developed highly individual personalities, but they're like children!  Look, let me get dressed, then I'll wake them up and prove it to you,” Maggie frowned and stepped over to a pair of work pants, pulling them on.  She went on describing them as she casually picked up the derringer and slipped it into a belt.  

     Sam frowned, “Do you always sleep with a firearm?”

     Maggie paused as she tugged on her boots, “One can never be too careful in my line of work.”  She tucked the night shirt neatly into her trousers and pulled on the suspenders.  With a satisfied sigh, she patted her derringer, “There, I do say I am ready for the world now.  Although a cup of tea wouldn't hurt.”

     “Cup of tea?  It's the middle of the night,” said Blaster looking at her strangely.

     The young woman scooped up a small newsboy style hat and placed it on her head neatly, “Yes and I was up with the dawn this morning seeing that these three were ready for their debut.  I got some shut eye after the event, but it didn't quiet down here till about eight o'clock.  You Americans and your holiday.”

     Sam frowned, leaning against Bee's shoulder, “You English and your hoity toity attitudes.”

     Maggie punched him in the arm, “I am not English!  How many times do i have to tell people that!?  I'm Australian, but I am a naturalized citizen.”  She spun on a heel and started climbing up into Grimlock's lap again, trying to get closer to the top of his chest.  There was a spot there that when she knocked he'd come back on-line.  Well, usually he did.  Sometimes he just didn't feel like it and it took her more time to rouse him.

     Blaster offered her a foothold and pushed her higher up on the mech's front, “Australia... isn't your whole country made of convicts?”

     Maggie frowned down at him, “Well, some of us are, some of us aren't.  I mean, my parents aren't.  Neither was my grandfather.”

     Sam sighed, “Does she ever stop babbling?”

     Bumblebee shrugged, “Maybe her mouth-brain filter isn't working.”

     A shaft of light invaded the dark tent from the opposite side as a deep voice answered Bee's question, “Seems a common problem with you Autobots.”