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The air in the mines was cold. But then again, it always was.
Not that B-127 minded.
So long as he beat the other miners to it, so long as he could get as close to the core of their world as the tunnels would allow, the dormant magma tubes that criss-crossed beneath his pedes would provide a faint warmth that he could bask in.
At least until his team lead came looking for him.
And chewed him out again.
Honestly, Bee didn’t know what he was doing so wrong. Oftentimes, his search for warmth led him down previously unexplored tunnels chock-full of untapped veins of energon, and at the end of the cycle, wasn’t that what they needed to find anyways? So then why was he always getting an audialful from Rockslide about disobeying orders? He was doing his job, she’d even said as much when she’d transferred him.
“You can’t keep running off like that Bee!” she had scolded, her tone making him want to cover his audials. It was far too loud for the small side-tunnel she’d cornered him in. “Even if you’re finding these energon veins, I can’t have my miners disobeying me. That looks bad on the reports.”
“But…” Bee trailed off, hurt confusion rippling through his field, “I found energon. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
For a second, rage lanced through Rockslide’s field, before a polite, friendly smile took over her faceplate.
And why had she seemed mad? Bee was just doing his job. Maybe he got a bit sidetracked every now and again, but he’d still consistently found new energon veins for them to mine.
“Tell you what,” she said cheerfully, “since you’ve been doing such a good job, being our little energonhound, why don’t you join their group?” she asked him, pointing over to the mining team from Level 10. “They could really use your help.”
“Really!?” Bee asked, finials perking up at the offer, not noticing the way her dentae grit out each word, or how her smile didn’t quite reach the corners of her optics.
“Yeah! They could totally use a creative little bot like yourself,” she promised, already shooing him down the tunnel towards the other mining detail.
“I’ll let them know you recommended me!” Bee called as he raced towards the other miners, briefly turning back to wave only to find that his supervisor had already disappeared.
Rockslide’s probably got more important stuff to do, Bee thought to himself as he marched up to his new team, not noticing the exchanged grimaces between them or the way his new supervisor, Bore, let out a longer than necessary exvent.
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“Ready to go mining?” Bee asked, bouncing on the tips of his pedes, smiling at his teammates. He’d been training with them for almost a decacycle, and Bore had decided it was time he join them in the tunnels.
“Uh huh. Sure thing chatterbot,” one of them replied, giving Bee a funny look. That was a bit odd; Bee could’ve sworn he’d mentioned his name by this point, but he wasn’t known for having the best memory, so maybe he only thought he’d told them his name.
Jogging to catch up as they turned towards the tunnels, Bee tried to squeeze between bots so he could walk with everyone instead of being stuck behind. “Actually, my name’s B-127, but I’ve been working on a couple nicknames, like Bee, or Badassatron!”
None of his teammates responded, so Bee kept talking, not one to let conversation die over something as silly as getting-to-meet-you nerves. “I like that one better, but my other team called me Bee.” Turning towards the bot who’d spoken to him he added, “I don’t mind Chatterbot either, but it doesn’t really roll off the tongue, y’know?”
“Kid doesn’t get a hint, huh?” asked a different bot, talking to Bore.
“Wonder how long it’ll be ‘till he washes out,” snickered another.
'Till I wash out? Maybe it’s some kind of initiation? Bee wondered to himself, already distracted by the puzzle his teammate had presented. What if I get doused in energon?! Is that what they mean, ‘wash out’? That’d be so cool!
Darting into the tunnels in search of warmth, he easily dodged around his teammates, their protests and indignant shouts falling on deaf audials. Taking a sharp turn down a dimly lit cavern system, he was rewarded with the welcoming glow of raw energon crystals. Letting out a triumphant whoop, he quickly darted back up to report his find to his team.
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“Again?” Bore’s voice sounded tired, and Bee offservoedly wondered if their team lead had been getting enough recharge. “This is going to be your fifteenth demerit, you know.”
Bore had dragged him away from the rest of the group to talk to him, and now Bee really wished he could ask for some of his teammates to be here and back him up.
“Well, Rockslide told me that-”
Bee was interrupted by Bore’s impatient servo. “Is Rockslide your team lead?” he asked, optics narrowing—though Bee couldn’t understand why, he was just trying to explain his job.
Shaking his helm, confused, he missed the tension growing in Bore’s jaw. “And what did I tell you to do?”
“Find energon!” Bee replied, recalling their first conversation.
“Mine energon,” Bore corrected with an exasperated sigh, servo pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge.
B’s finials, which had already sunk flat against his helm, somehow dropped down further. That isn’t right, I know he told me that finding energon was my priority, B thought to himself, trying not to frown. Did I miss something he said later then? I didn’t mean to.
“But since you’ve done such a good job at finding it, I’m going to promote you to Level 15. You’ll be loading the energon onto the trains.” Bore’s voice cut across his train of thought, grinding it to a halt. He sounded both relieved and contemplative, but what Bee focused on was the word ‘promotion’.
He’d never been promoted before, and to be getting such a coveted prize after only working with Bore’s team for a decacycle or two was beyond amazing!
Locking optics with Bee, his team lead whispered conspiratorially, “It’s a job that requires absolute skill and focus, understand?”
“So, you’re not mad at me?” Bee asked, just to clarify since he was getting a lot of mixed signals from their conversation.
“No, I’m not,” Bore reassured, placing a servo on Bee’s shoulder. “Trust me, your expertise will be quite welcomed down there.”
Preening at the complement, Bee practically skipped towards the maintenance lift that would take him to Level 25. Waving goodbye to his teammates as he left, he was disappointed that no bot waved back, but pushed it from his helm. They're working hard, doing their job, he reminded himself, They’d wave back if they had the time.
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Working on Level 15 was much colder than working in the mines, Bee decided.
Packing up the trains full of energon was both time-consuming and taxing, but it kept Bee’s cabling warm, so he considered that the silver lining. It had been hard the first couple of times he’d tried packing a train car on his own, but thankfully a bot named Ironhide had been more than willing to help him out.
“Kid?! Kid, stop that, yer doin’ it wrong!” he’d hollered at Bee after watching him struggle to lift a crate of packed energon.
After that, ‘Hide had helped show him how to lift the crates properly, and they’d gotten to know one another. As it turned out, Ironhide was a temporary worker, only on Level 15 to make sure the trains didn’t have any malfunctions. “So, what’s yer story Kid?” he’d asked. (He insisted on calling Bee ‘Kid’ even though Bee had told him his name).
“My story? Well I used to mine energon—more like find fresh veins, really—but my team lead, Bore, promoted me to work down here so that I could use my expertise to help everyone out!” Finials perking up, he turned to smile at Ironhide. “Kind like you, only I get to stay!”
His finials sunk when he caught sight of a pained expression on ‘Hide’s face. “You sure you got promoted, gettin' sent down this far?” the older bot asked, searching Bee’s face for something.
He’s probably just worried since I’m so new.
“Yep!” Bee confirmed flashing ‘Hide a bright grin. “That’s what Bore said, and I don’t see why he’d lie to me!”
“If ya say so, Kid,” Ironhide relented, though he sent Bee a teek of sympathy when he asked, “You good here then? I’d love to hang around and chat, but I’ve gotta keep up my rounds.”
“Mhm! Got this in the bag!” Bee puffed out his chassis, servos on his hips, projecting confidence through his field.
Ironhide cast him another sideways glance and mouthed “sorry” before scurrying off towards the next train car.
That was weird, Bee thought, shrugging to himself as he went back to loading crates, bending his knee joints and bracing his pedes the way ‘Hide had shown him.
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His stint loading energon only lasted for about two decacycles before he was promoted again to Level 20. His team lead had told him that helping out the assembly lines would “suit someone of his abilities” better than loading energon trains.
Not that Bee entirely disagreed. In his opinion, his skills were hardly put to the test carrying crates of compressed energon. He would miss his teammates though. They’d let him chat about whatever was on his processor and sometimes hummed along to the nonsensical tunes that played in his helm when he was bored.
No one ever asked him to ‘tone it down’, or 'shut up', which was nice too. They did have a habit of disappearing whenever he talked with them for a while, but then again, they did still have jobs to do, so Bee didn’t take it to spark.
To his pleasant surprise, Level 20 was warm (if anything, too warm). Sparks flew from various machines while forges full of molten metal roared in the background. It was a daily challenge to avoid scorching his plating or slicing his servos open on pieces of metal, but it kept Bee on his pedetips.
What truly made him happy, though, was meeting another bot who was just like him. Wheeljack was only about a helm taller than Bee, and much like him, loved to chat about anything and everything on his processor. They would spend hours talking to each other—Wheeljack had had a similar problem with finding friends to talk to, much like Bee—and their conversations often carried on late into the night-cycle.
One memorable night, Wheeljack had shown Bee his stash of scrap metal stowed beneath his berth. “Look at all this!” he’d whisper-shouted, helm fins flashing excitedly. “I’ve been tryna make something with all this, but never had anyone to help, so it’s been slow-goin’.”
“I would love to help out!” Bee offered immediately, already excited to see what his friend would make.
He never got to see it. His new boss, a cogged mech who’s name he forgot, promoted him to Level 25; to help the cleaning crews sanitize the floors while bots recharged. He had claimed that Bee didn’t have enough work to do on the assembly line (something Bee didn’t quite believe given the dismissive tone in the mech’s voice).
He didn’t even have time to say goodbye to Wheeljack before he was ushered into a lift and sent down to his new assignment.
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Bee wasn’t sure he was being promoted anymore. None of the cleaning bots on his team showed him anything other than disdain at best and outright hostility at worst. And, he couldn’t understand why!
He’d been friendly and talkative, and maybe he’d been a touch too casual, but wasn’t that how you were supposed to greet bots? With a wave and a friendly smile? Guess not, his processor grumbled, that, or these bots never got the memo.
It wasn’t even that the job wasn’t enjoyable, it was! There was a method to cleaning the halls and miners’ barracks that gave Bee a sense of comfortable repetitiveness. If he could just get his teammates to like him, then it’d be perfect.
Not that any of it mattered in the end. One of his teammates complained to someone high-up and he found himself ‘promoted’ again. This time to sub-level 50.
He didn’t even know there even was a sub-level 50, but apparently it existed.
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He was not being promoted, Bee finally realized.
Sub-level 50 was desolate, lonely, and devoid of any and all life save Bee himself.
In all honesty, ever since he’d been sent to Level 20, he’d started to doubt that he was being ‘promoted’; Ironhide’s words lurking in the back of his processor.
But now that he was here? There was no way in the Inferno this was a promotion. A daily energon ration dropped out of a rickety old chute Bee was half convinced would collapse one of these cycles, and the churning roar of the garbage incinerator overwhelmed his audials to the point where he spent the first cycle down there tucking himself into a ball as far away from the conveyor belt, clutching his audials.
He doubted anybody even knew he was down here too, and no one ever came down to check on him.
Pit, he didn’t even know if his friends even knew he was still alive! If they knew, they’d come get me, he promised himself on a particularly lonely night. Unable to recharge, he had sat down on the floor, subconsciously rocking back and forth on the balls of his pedes. They would come and rescue me, I know they would. Wheeljack, Ironhide, my other teammates. If they knew I was here, they’d come get me.
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By the time Bee accepted that no one was coming for him, a strange sense of euphoria had eclipsed his view of his situation. He didn’t really need anyone to come get him, he was content where he was. After all, he did a good job down here, and shouldn’t that be enough to make him happy in turn?
Besides, he’d made himself some friends to keep him company! It’d taken a while to gather enough scrap metal to make them, but after seven attempts, he’d made three new friends: EP-508, A-Atron, and Steve.
He knew that someone, at some point, had taught him how to assemble and weld scrap metal together to form new, unique things, but he couldn’t remember who. Looking back, he didn’t even remember the bot’s face or frame.
The same déja vu happened when he lifted and maneuvered heavy objects. It didn’t feel instinctive, like most things he did, but in that same vent, he couldn’t put a name or face to whomever the skills had come from. All the same, he knew it came from someone other than himself.
It felt like a phantom limb, trying to recall all these forgotten bots that he knew, instinctively, that he should know. At some point, he gave up trying. Bee was tired of spinning his gears and still getting nowhere on the mystery of the bots he was pretty sure he used to know.
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Staring up at the ceiling from his berth, Bee watched as light from the incinerator leaked through the divider separating his berthroom from the waste conveyor belt. The muffled roar of the flames had long since become background noise to him, but they were still too loud for him to properly block out for recharge.
How long had it been since he’d been sent down here, Bee wondered. Surely no longer than a solar cycle, he hoped. But then again, he could scarcely remember what it had been like up on the main floors save when he dreamt. Not that he recalled much of his dreams, but he remembered flying down tunnels, seeing the sparkling crystals of raw energon. He remembered faces he couldn’t name; someone red offering encouragement, flashing lights sharing his excitement over something.
If not for how real it felt when he woke up, Bee would swear it was his processor playing tricks on him. How in the world could such a fanciful world exist? Such bots? It had to be a dream and yet…
The memories tugged at his spark supports, and he knew intuitively that it had been real at one point.
Twisting onto his side, covering his audials with his servos, Bee tried to find a moment of quiet he could use to fall into recharge. The cold air in his berthroom made him shiver, but he squeezed his optics shut.
Maybe if he was lucky, he’d have another dream about the wondrous world above him.