Fic! Renewal, Part Thirteen
Title: Renewal
Series: Transformers Movie 2007
Rating: PG (violence)
Characters: Combaticons, Ironhide, others; Banachek observation team; Stunticons+
Previously: ( TF Renewal tag )
[Author's Note: This story did not develop in the direction I had originally planned, so it's time to end it and move on to the next part in the trilogy.]
Renewal - Part Thirteen
Onslaught silently gazed at the mech who was their welcoming party as his team stepped out of their impact craters. His private comm line to the other Combaticons, however, was instantly full of chatter. Outwardly none of them gave any indication they were talking. A low droning came from Tankor. Gutcruncher hissed - he was digging his claws into the ground, anticipating the order to attack. Vortex snarled over the line, "Ironhide?! What is he doing here?"
"Do you think he had something to do with the energy surge we detected from this land mass?" Blast Off asked as he took to the air in robot mode.
"I would not doubt the possibility," Onslaught replied. "I do know that his cannons are powered down." He lowered his technical scan level and continued to watch the Autobot, who was in a defensive stance and equally sizing him up. Onslaught refrained from blinking, waiting and relishing the growing tension.
"Let us hit him fast, then!" Vortex cried over the line. "Take him down before our tail arrives!"
"Do not be so eager. He should not be underestimated." The Combaticon leader had much respect for Ironhide. He had an exact count of the number of altercations that ended in a stalemate with the Autobot weapons specialist. Even when outnumbered he could hold the field until his reinforcements arrived -- which was the very dilemma before them now.
"On my mark," Onslaught said slowly.
~*~
Ironhide had begrudging respect for the Combaticons. They worked well as a team, and Onslaught's tactics were always sound. He calculated the energy he would need for a pulse blast to neutralize Tankor's cannon as the heavy support mech folded down into his alt mode beside Onslaught. Blast Off was in the air already and Vortex transformed to join him. When they inevitably swooped in he planned to strafe them with the mini-guns. He had to choose between Gutcruncher and Onslaught for the first missile he would be able to fire in that same space of time.
It all depended on the override codes for his main weapons working, of course. He knew they would, but an alternate strategy or two that included neither of the cannons wouldn't hurt.
All the while his scanners were tracking the progress of the other three meteors. If the Combaticons chose to dog pile him, he would be down and out before they arrived. Decisions made, he snorted air from his olfactory sensor and input the codes. He felt a sudden drain of his stored energy but the glow from his cannons was a welcome sight.
The Combaticons moved as one. Vortex buzzed him, Blast Off strafed from dual machine guns on both his arms. Tankor's barrel lit up as a charge built. Gutcruncher dashed to flank him on the left. Despite the machine gun fire peppering his shoulders, Ironhide's pulse blast knocked Tankor's cannon askew just as the Decepticon fired. Ironhide dove and rolled to the right to avoid the crackling yellow beam, firing a missile in his wake that struck Gutcruncher and staggered him. The Autobot came up on his feet and kept Vortex at bay with one mini-gun, the other tilting wildly to chase after Blast Off as he circled. Before Tankor could recover, Ironhide closed to where another blast from the heavy support mech would knock down the both of them as well as Onslaught.
Ironhide immediately rolled again. He felt the vibration in the air of Onslaught's sonic stun gun passing over him and he remained low, spraying mini-gun fire to where his radar claimed Gutcruncher to be. Machine gun shots rained over him again. A second later a low-yield missile detonated against his right-side doors, jarring his shoulder. Another slammed down just as he got to his feet. He hunched down, retracing the paths of the missiles. A half dozen more hit all around him -- disorientation tactic. He grunted and boosted his radar to locate the five as the barrage continued. He took one to the shoulder again, lower this time. Someone was trying to disrupt his own missile cannon. He rerouted the power to his other weapons then flicked his arm. The cannon reformed into plating. He used that arm as a shield as he bounded up and dashed further to the left -- again toward Tankor. The other Combaticons had been working on surrounding him. Weapons were trained on him yet they did not fire. Ironhide processed another layer of radar. The three meteors were about to hit.
The lack of action from the Combaticons made him wary that things would turn into eight versus one. He spared a glance eastward where the body of the ancient Cybertronian rested.
With a loud hiss of steam he again rerouted power and energy, all of the remaining stored and converted solar power going to his pulse cannon. He locked optics with Onslaught as the Combaticon leader sent another volley of missiles his way. Ironhide touched the point of the cannon to the ground and released the gathered energy. It drained him more than he had expected, causing him to stagger weakly, but the result was as he had hoped.
A sphere of yellow-tinged light enveloped the area, swallowing the Combaticons and the lone Autobot. Ironhide dropped to his hands and knees, his processor reeling. The light blocked the Combaticons from his view, but likewise they could not see him. He scuttled away from his last position, forcing overrides on his disrupted neural relays. The flare from the energy release would soon begin to fade. Whether the three incoming were friend or foe he needed a more permanent way to put the Combaticons out of commission.
The beginnings of a plan were immediately forgotten as agony ripped through him. A three-pronged vice closed around his left shin and squeezed. A red visor came into view above him. Tankor had found him at the edge of the light globe. Ironhide tilted a mini-gun and emptied the last rounds into the Combaticon's face. The visor cracked but Tankor did not let go. Instead he shifted, raised his arm, and tossed Ironhide out into the open. The Autobot skidded across the ground, landing face down.
An unfamiliar engine gunned somewhere to the right, then a gray vehicle shot between them, smoke funneling out from multiple sets of gill vents on one side. Ironhide pushed himself up on his arms and tried to get a visual on Tankor but realized that nothing beyond the smoke was registering on his radar. All he saw in the regular visual spectrum was a massive cloud of gray. Not even the light that should have still remained from his energy release was visible.
The smoke drifted over him. He heard the engine again, then the sound of transformation, and then someone grabbed his arms and pulled. He attempted to use the momentum to get his feet under him. His left leg argued against it. The mechanoid pulling him gave a grunt of effort and resorted to dragging him. A second, smaller set of hands grasped him under his right arm and assisted with the dragging.
"Clear!" called a male voice from the direction of the second set of hands. Ironhide was certain he had heard the voice before. He couldn't see who was being signaled, but he next heard a sharp whistle and felt the air behind him try to tug him back toward the thick of the smoke cloud. Five distinct clatters followed.
A few seconds later he was set down then helped to turn over and sit up.The smoke was thinning here, aided by swipes of the hand by a mech the same gray as the smoke. He was looking at something beyond where Ironhide sat. "Well, what do you know -- that thing of yours finally worked!"
"It's always worked, it just needed the right gravity."
Now that accent Ironhide knew, even adapted into English. "Wheeljack..?" His voice faded in and out on the word. The energy drain was still affecting him. He tried to talk anyway. "Frickin' 'Cons... broke your ship... Sorry."
"Easy there, big guy. Lemme help you compensate for that bright stunt you pulled, then we'll talk. Need to do something about that leg, too."
"Yes," Ironhide agreed unnecessarily. He squinted his optic shutters as the Autobot Chief Engineer came into view. He still had a blunted crest along the top of his helmet and the vent-like structures on either side of his head that flickered with light when he spoke. His armor might have been white underneath what looked like the scorching effect of standing at the epicenter of a high-yield blast. Yet it was the odd, asymmetrical layered guard over the lower half of his face that made Ironhide stare.
Wheeljack saw that he had noticed and briefly touched the additional armor piece. "Yeah, something blew up in my face. But it isn't what you think." Ironhide didn't ask, sitting as still as he could while Wheeljack worked to reset his energy distribution. The engineer whistled when he came across the changes to Ironhide's cannons. "Now that's creative. Ratchet's work, right? The converter would've kept working, too, even after the initial reuse of the weapons. That mass expulsion shorted it out, though. I can give you another boost of temporary access, but a full fix will have to wait for Ratchet."
As Wheeljack turned his attention to the warrior's wounded leg a clanging sound drew Ironhide's gaze to the dissipating smoke. The third mech was kicking the downed Gutcruncher in the head. He stopped after a few more kicks and gave a quick wave of one hand. "Hey, Ironhide. Long time no see." He was shorter than the other two and was armored in red, one of the horns on his helm jagged on top from the tip being broken off.
"Cliffjumper. You are alive."
"If some Decepticon bragged that he'd killed me in the Battle for Zortaltian VIII, it was a lie." He dusted off his hands as he approached. "But, yeah, was out in the outer reaches for a long time. We didn't know if Prime's message was still good when we received it, but we followed it to this solar system. Stopped to rest on Mars 'cause we picked up Cybertronian energy, thought it was a way station. We saw these chumps just in time -- you know, before they saw us. We holed up elsewhere on the planet and kept an eye on them, monitoring for more messages from Prime, getting to know Earth stuff." He grinned. "Congratulations on killing Megatron twice!"
"Twice?" It sounded more like a confused grunt.
Cliffjumper deciphered the word, however, and gave him a weird look. "Isn't that why the Combaticons suddenly took off? Onslaught was champing at the bit for the chance to drop all other contenders for leadership of the 'Cons when they heard the news."
Ironhide's optics dimmed. "I have been a little... out of the loop."
"Radio silence mission?" Cliffjumper surmised.
"On leave for a personal mission."
Wheeljack and Cliffjumper both looked at him with curiosity. He shook his head. "Later. We have more important business here." He then glanced up at the gray mech.
"Smokescreen," he introduced himself with a small smile, reading the look. "New recruit. Former civilian," he added at the caution that appeared in Ironhide's face. "I was in the outer reaches on business when the Decepticons came through. I didn't appreciate them trying to level my company assets, so I volunteered to help Cliffjumper's crew."
Ironhide's optics dimmed again as he glanced from Wheeljack to the red mech. "Are you all that remains of your team, then?" They nodded solemnly.
"We did pick up someone else on the way, though," Cliffjumper said with a single upraised finger, which he then pointed skyward with. "He's beating up Astrotrain back on Mars."
Ironhide's optics brightened and he rumbled thoughtfully. "Someone big enough to handle Astrotrain would be a great help in what we need to take care of here."
Cliffjumper smacked a fist into his open palm. "Well, tell us! I'll call him down!"
"I need to show you." As Wheeljack continued to repair his leg, Ironhide explained -- minus certain personal details -- how he had met Morris and the discovery the human had shown him.
"You're sure of the radiation type?" Wheeljack asked, pushing Ironhide's leg plating into its correct alignment.
"Yes."
Wheeljack sat back after he finished and ran his fingertips over his mouth guard. He did not comment further.
Cliffjumper glanced at the downed Combaticons and grinned. "Well, at least we can deal with it in peace. We've got the Decepticons beat!"
The sound of a distant helicopter drew their attention eastward. Ironhide's head went up sharply as he sought it out. He sighed heavily. "And now we have even more explaining to do."
~*~
When Windcharger and Huffer approached the estimated impact site, the shuttle's visual sensors displayed several things neither had expected: A helicopter belonging to the Australian Defense Force, three standing mechs, five more mechs laid out in a row on the ground, and a familiar large black pick up truck.
Ironhide.
The two transmitted the visual to the Ark as the shuttle's IFF marked the five downed mechs as the Combaticons and two of the standing bots as Wheeljack and Cliffjumper. The third -- who, incidentally, was the one speaking with the humans -- was unknown to them and the shuttle's database.
The group's attention was immediately diverted to the shuttle, Ironhide transforming with a particular speed. A message from Huffer made the group relax. Even so, he and Windcharger disembarked with hands raised as a sign of peace. Upon approach they saw the varying official uniforms of the humans, except for one who looked like an average tourist.
Ironhide merely nodded and grunted by way of greeting. The two minibots knew better than to ask how he had ended up there, of all the times and places to be. Still, when all the humans turned to their helicopter, Huffer couldn't help making the gruff comment to Ironhide, "I see you have everything in hand here."
"They did most of the work," Ironhide replied quietly, tilting his head toward Wheeljack, then glancing at the one human in causal clothes. The man had left the others and was returning to the gathered Autobots.
"Morris Brodsky," he introduced himself, turning to smile at each bot. "Pleasure to meet all of you."
"We have something to show you," Ironhide said, motioning to Wheeljack in particular. "Smokescreen, would you mind guarding them?" He pointed to the Combaticons.
"Not at all." The gray mech nodded and stepped over to the stasis-locked Decepticons. Ironhide transformed and let Morris in on his passenger side. He waited for the others to take vehicle form, then he led them and the helicopter toward the fault scarp.
Once there Morris deactivated the camouflage net. Ironhide was almost afraid the body would no longer be there, as if the Combaticons were merely a diversion, but there was a collective gasp from humans and bots alike at the sight. Wheeljack slid right down beside the exposed section and began projecting three-dimensional readings and graphs around himself. "You're right to keep the humans back, Ironhide. The radiation's still high. But...it shouldn't be, even for a Prime, and having been buried so long..." Wheeljack tapped his mouth plate, the light projections spinning around him.
Huffer tried to keep up with the numbers and chemical lists scrolling in the air but ended up cross-eyed. He finally grabbed Wheeljack's raised arm, distracting him from projecting the data. "That means there was an additional source of radiation."
"Perhaps whatever it was that killed him," Ironhide suggested.
Wheeljack nodded and proceeded to analyze what he had gleaned from the body and surrounding rock, refraining from projecting data outwardly this time. His headfins flickered a few times, and although he said nothing, the others could hear the low hum of his processors working away. Huffer began to pick at the glass and obsidian, running some analyses of his own. Windcharger and Cliffjumper wandered further along the scarp, talking privately, catching each other up on recent events. Morris, while keeping a respectable distance away, watched Huffer and Wheeljack in interest.
Finally Wheeljack's headfins flashed brightly for several seconds as he sighed. "I think I might know the source. Lemme talk with Smokescreen. He mentioned something similar one time."
"Like what?" Huffer asked, brushing his hands off. "I haven't seen anything like this before."
Wheeljack, being accustomed to the shorter bot's attitude, explained calmly, "The isotopes resulting from flash-heated electrum produce a rare radiation, and electrum doesn't occur naturally on Earth nor about two-thirds of the planets in the universe. It also can't be created artificially."
"So...this guy was armored in electrum at some point?" Huffer jerked a thumb toward the body.
"No. The one who killed him was."
~*~
"Hands in the air, NOW! All of you!"
The infiltration had gone without a hitch. Swindle's drones had done exactly what he had said they would. No alarms triggered, no security intervention, and now Epps stared hard with his gun trained on Tom Banachek. He saw the slow nod the former Sector Seven agent gave to his crew, and anyone who had hesitated to raise their hands before immediately raised them now.
Tom stared right back at him and spoke as if Bobby had been in on everything the entire time. "We've translated some of these writings. Somethin' is comin'."
"Yeah? So why didn't you share this earlier--" Epps indicated the chamber with a brief pointing of his chin, his eyes not leaving Banachek's face. "Y'know, before you betrayed the country?"
"No Americans were harmed in the takeover. Just a temporary suppression of freedom for the good of the majority."
"Is that your fancy term for mind control?" Epps stepped closer, gun remaining level. "'Temporary suppression of freedom'. And what about the Cybertronian you illegally detained?"
Banachek's grim mien never changed. "Don't trust him."
"Same way we trusted you?" Epps tilted his gun toward the main entrance. "Out. Now. All of you. You can make your excuses to the President." In the back of his mind Bobby was braced for the other shoe to drop. As the member's of Banachek's team filed past him with his men matched one for one, he waited for any 'Hail ISOC!' nonsense. Yet the line moved quickly and peacefully.
That made him worry even more. He clicked a button on an Autobot-provided wristwatch that would notify Tracks and Swindle of his concern. Out of the corner of his eye Epps saw the response: the tiny drones swarming over the equipment, finding their way inside to shut down every last circuit.
It only made him feel just as uneasy. He hit another button that signalled only to Tracks.
~*~
"'Something is coming'? Do you have any idea what he is on about?" Tracks asked Swindle. He didn't like the way the mechanoid face displayed on Swindle's chest screen was looking -- intrigued with its optics shifting, the calculation of profit clear as day.
"Must be something worth risking his reputation for," Swindle replied, his tone too absent for Tracks' liking. Then the other mech looked right at him, both camera and screen image. "He was very loyal to his government at one time. It sounded to me like he knew what was best."
"But what would killing us have to do with the message he thinks he decoded in there?" Tracks made no acknowledgment of Firestar creeping around in Swindle's blind spot.
"Maybe he thinks we attracted whatever is coming."
"You do know something." Firestar stepped down beside Swindle, a small side-arm style muzzle protruding from her left forearm, which she held slightly behind her.
Swindle pivoted his camera toward her. "It isn't the Vok, at least." He lifted his arm to show the scurrying drones.
He started to turn away, but she grabbed the top of his lense casing and forced his gaze back to hers. "You and these Vok. Forget them. Is it Cybertronian? Is it of us?"
"Won't know until we decipher all of those glyphs, will we?" Swindle's camera zoomed in and out behind the glass as if lining up the perfect photo of her -- or as if implying that he wasn't going to reveal anything else. "Put the gun away, please. We still have a deal." Firestar's gaze didn't waver, but her arm clacked as the panels folded down. "Let's get this data to the geek squad, shall we?" Swindle flicked the cover down on the small screen in his arm, now monitoring his drones internally.
Tracks sent a signal to Epps to confirm the soldier's unease.
~*~
Bobby was waiting for the reply. He pointed to the team who was to remain behind to disassemble the equipment, and gave them a sign to take note of what the drones were doing.
The hum of machinery around them abruptly stopped. The drones retreated and lined up in perfect rows against one of the walls that did not have any equipment near it. Epps received another coded message from Tracks telling him the barrier had been lowered and Swindle was about to recall his drones. Bobby pretended to give out more orders via hand signals, but when the drones began to file out by way of the chamber entrance, he followed. The rest of his men would have gotten Banachek's group secured inside vans under the supervision of Tracks and Firestar.
He wanted in on the interrogations. He also wished that Lennox could be there to give his opinion from having worked under Banachek all this time. However, he was stopped from getting into the van that held Tom by a wave from his comms officer. "Encrypted call for you from SecDef, sir." The man led him to the armored jeep parked away from the vans. Epps glanced back as two of the vans started up, the one containing Banachek following next. He huffed, irked, and pulled himself into the jeep by the side roll bar. He confirmed his identity then accessed the call.
"Sergeant Epps, I have a new proposal for you. I think you'll like it more than your previous job. There will be some familiar faces around..."
~*~
Prowl, Inferno, and Chromia were waiting at Edwards Air Force Base when two C-17's touched down. The airfield was cordoned off with only a specifically selected number of receiving crew nearby to help with the unloading. Huffer and Windcharger had gone ahead to the Ark, passing along Wheeljack's readings and Ironhide's cave scans to Perceptor. A team would return to Australia to excavate Live Convoy once the Autobots had regrouped and the Combaticons had been incarcerated, .
Chromia strode onto the runway with no regard to the bustle around the first plane, also ignoring Prowl's call for her to return to her station. She walked right up to the offramp of the second plane and stepped onto it, crouching to clear the door frame as she entered the cargo space. She moved past three sports cars and halted, crossing her arms as she stared down at the Topkick still anchored to the floor. The technicians were quick to remove the straps and chains from the vehicles. They knew they weren't at risk, but the sight was intimidating all the same. The three cars were just as quick to disembark.
Ironhide transformed but did not stand fully. He gazed up at her. The second their optics met she felt a distinct pang of failure wash over her spark. She reached out for his hand to offer to pull him up, but instead he took her hand tightly in his, bowing his head over it. Chromia uttered a soft, questing electronic trill. She placed her other hand on the back of his head, leaning over to cradle him against her.
She spoke quietly in Cybertronian, "You did not find what you were looking for."
"No," he replied in a whisper. She released him so he could raise his head and look her in the optics. She gently clasped his face between her hands, then brushed one finger over the scarred side. He continued, "But I know how we can save Cybertron."
Her optics brightened and she searched his gaze for further hope. However, they dimmed when he transmitted a series of gylphs that he had not shared with the others. The weight of a severe decision settled over her and she leaned forward again, touching her forehead to his as he took her hand again and clasped it tightly.
~*~
"Tonight on the six o-clock news: John Keller steps down as the Secretary of Defense with no notice. Does this have to do with the events at Edwards Air Force Base and how will his successor handle relations with the Autobots? Channel Two News will find out."
~*~
"Well, that was laughable," Motormaster snorted after reviewing the capture of the Combaticons. Soundwave may have been incarcerated but his plague of Insecticons were still doing well with spreading themselves around the globe. "And Onslaught wanted to take over as leader? His processors must be rusting if he let himself be distracted so badly."
"The lesson will teach him where his place in the Decepticon hierarchy is," replied a mech on a communications feed; the only visible part of him was a vague angular outline and a single, circular yellow glow in the middle that didn't illuminate his other features.
"Three down, one to go -- or two to go, if I am not still in your good graces." Motormaster grinned a wide, horrible grin. "Patience is not one of my traits, you know."
"I do know. I appreciate your temperamental sacrifice in the name of loyalty to the Decepticon cause. Your situation will change soon. I have several leads on Starscream and what he has discovered. He will be caught and eliminated. With internal strife quelled we will claim what is ours from the other four planets."
"We will be ready and willing to crush this mudball when you command, Lord Shockwave."
When the feed ended Motormaster's grin became a sneer. From behind him Barricade spoke. "Patience is the only thing keeping us from ending up like the Combaticons and the others."
"This planet should already be nothing but an outpost," Motormaster snarled in reply. "Yet, no! We failed to commandeer the Ark, failed to resurrect Megatron, and now we just hide instead of even moving toward destroying the last of the Autobots!"
"These are not the last. There are more out in space," Barricade said.
The Stunticon leader rumbled loudly in warning. Barricade responded in a flat tone, "It is the truth. All your thundering will not change that." Motormaster went silent, which Barricade found more disturbing than the Stunticons' need for immediate, violent destruction. He hated all five of them, but he had his own orders from Shockwave. "Frenzy and the others have completed their infiltration. They will obtain the remaining information we seek and then you can reduce the humans' cities to cinders when you distract the Autobots. I will take care of the boring work."
"I can make your job much easier by burning everything down. Then all you have to do is sift through the ashes." He uttered an ugly laugh. Barricade ignored him.
To Be Concluded
Series: Transformers Movie 2007
Rating: PG (violence)
Characters: Combaticons, Ironhide, others; Banachek observation team; Stunticons+
Previously: ( TF Renewal tag )
[Author's Note: This story did not develop in the direction I had originally planned, so it's time to end it and move on to the next part in the trilogy.]
Renewal - Part Thirteen
Onslaught silently gazed at the mech who was their welcoming party as his team stepped out of their impact craters. His private comm line to the other Combaticons, however, was instantly full of chatter. Outwardly none of them gave any indication they were talking. A low droning came from Tankor. Gutcruncher hissed - he was digging his claws into the ground, anticipating the order to attack. Vortex snarled over the line, "Ironhide?! What is he doing here?"
"Do you think he had something to do with the energy surge we detected from this land mass?" Blast Off asked as he took to the air in robot mode.
"I would not doubt the possibility," Onslaught replied. "I do know that his cannons are powered down." He lowered his technical scan level and continued to watch the Autobot, who was in a defensive stance and equally sizing him up. Onslaught refrained from blinking, waiting and relishing the growing tension.
"Let us hit him fast, then!" Vortex cried over the line. "Take him down before our tail arrives!"
"Do not be so eager. He should not be underestimated." The Combaticon leader had much respect for Ironhide. He had an exact count of the number of altercations that ended in a stalemate with the Autobot weapons specialist. Even when outnumbered he could hold the field until his reinforcements arrived -- which was the very dilemma before them now.
"On my mark," Onslaught said slowly.
~*~
Ironhide had begrudging respect for the Combaticons. They worked well as a team, and Onslaught's tactics were always sound. He calculated the energy he would need for a pulse blast to neutralize Tankor's cannon as the heavy support mech folded down into his alt mode beside Onslaught. Blast Off was in the air already and Vortex transformed to join him. When they inevitably swooped in he planned to strafe them with the mini-guns. He had to choose between Gutcruncher and Onslaught for the first missile he would be able to fire in that same space of time.
It all depended on the override codes for his main weapons working, of course. He knew they would, but an alternate strategy or two that included neither of the cannons wouldn't hurt.
All the while his scanners were tracking the progress of the other three meteors. If the Combaticons chose to dog pile him, he would be down and out before they arrived. Decisions made, he snorted air from his olfactory sensor and input the codes. He felt a sudden drain of his stored energy but the glow from his cannons was a welcome sight.
The Combaticons moved as one. Vortex buzzed him, Blast Off strafed from dual machine guns on both his arms. Tankor's barrel lit up as a charge built. Gutcruncher dashed to flank him on the left. Despite the machine gun fire peppering his shoulders, Ironhide's pulse blast knocked Tankor's cannon askew just as the Decepticon fired. Ironhide dove and rolled to the right to avoid the crackling yellow beam, firing a missile in his wake that struck Gutcruncher and staggered him. The Autobot came up on his feet and kept Vortex at bay with one mini-gun, the other tilting wildly to chase after Blast Off as he circled. Before Tankor could recover, Ironhide closed to where another blast from the heavy support mech would knock down the both of them as well as Onslaught.
Ironhide immediately rolled again. He felt the vibration in the air of Onslaught's sonic stun gun passing over him and he remained low, spraying mini-gun fire to where his radar claimed Gutcruncher to be. Machine gun shots rained over him again. A second later a low-yield missile detonated against his right-side doors, jarring his shoulder. Another slammed down just as he got to his feet. He hunched down, retracing the paths of the missiles. A half dozen more hit all around him -- disorientation tactic. He grunted and boosted his radar to locate the five as the barrage continued. He took one to the shoulder again, lower this time. Someone was trying to disrupt his own missile cannon. He rerouted the power to his other weapons then flicked his arm. The cannon reformed into plating. He used that arm as a shield as he bounded up and dashed further to the left -- again toward Tankor. The other Combaticons had been working on surrounding him. Weapons were trained on him yet they did not fire. Ironhide processed another layer of radar. The three meteors were about to hit.
The lack of action from the Combaticons made him wary that things would turn into eight versus one. He spared a glance eastward where the body of the ancient Cybertronian rested.
With a loud hiss of steam he again rerouted power and energy, all of the remaining stored and converted solar power going to his pulse cannon. He locked optics with Onslaught as the Combaticon leader sent another volley of missiles his way. Ironhide touched the point of the cannon to the ground and released the gathered energy. It drained him more than he had expected, causing him to stagger weakly, but the result was as he had hoped.
A sphere of yellow-tinged light enveloped the area, swallowing the Combaticons and the lone Autobot. Ironhide dropped to his hands and knees, his processor reeling. The light blocked the Combaticons from his view, but likewise they could not see him. He scuttled away from his last position, forcing overrides on his disrupted neural relays. The flare from the energy release would soon begin to fade. Whether the three incoming were friend or foe he needed a more permanent way to put the Combaticons out of commission.
The beginnings of a plan were immediately forgotten as agony ripped through him. A three-pronged vice closed around his left shin and squeezed. A red visor came into view above him. Tankor had found him at the edge of the light globe. Ironhide tilted a mini-gun and emptied the last rounds into the Combaticon's face. The visor cracked but Tankor did not let go. Instead he shifted, raised his arm, and tossed Ironhide out into the open. The Autobot skidded across the ground, landing face down.
An unfamiliar engine gunned somewhere to the right, then a gray vehicle shot between them, smoke funneling out from multiple sets of gill vents on one side. Ironhide pushed himself up on his arms and tried to get a visual on Tankor but realized that nothing beyond the smoke was registering on his radar. All he saw in the regular visual spectrum was a massive cloud of gray. Not even the light that should have still remained from his energy release was visible.
The smoke drifted over him. He heard the engine again, then the sound of transformation, and then someone grabbed his arms and pulled. He attempted to use the momentum to get his feet under him. His left leg argued against it. The mechanoid pulling him gave a grunt of effort and resorted to dragging him. A second, smaller set of hands grasped him under his right arm and assisted with the dragging.
"Clear!" called a male voice from the direction of the second set of hands. Ironhide was certain he had heard the voice before. He couldn't see who was being signaled, but he next heard a sharp whistle and felt the air behind him try to tug him back toward the thick of the smoke cloud. Five distinct clatters followed.
A few seconds later he was set down then helped to turn over and sit up.The smoke was thinning here, aided by swipes of the hand by a mech the same gray as the smoke. He was looking at something beyond where Ironhide sat. "Well, what do you know -- that thing of yours finally worked!"
"It's always worked, it just needed the right gravity."
Now that accent Ironhide knew, even adapted into English. "Wheeljack..?" His voice faded in and out on the word. The energy drain was still affecting him. He tried to talk anyway. "Frickin' 'Cons... broke your ship... Sorry."
"Easy there, big guy. Lemme help you compensate for that bright stunt you pulled, then we'll talk. Need to do something about that leg, too."
"Yes," Ironhide agreed unnecessarily. He squinted his optic shutters as the Autobot Chief Engineer came into view. He still had a blunted crest along the top of his helmet and the vent-like structures on either side of his head that flickered with light when he spoke. His armor might have been white underneath what looked like the scorching effect of standing at the epicenter of a high-yield blast. Yet it was the odd, asymmetrical layered guard over the lower half of his face that made Ironhide stare.
Wheeljack saw that he had noticed and briefly touched the additional armor piece. "Yeah, something blew up in my face. But it isn't what you think." Ironhide didn't ask, sitting as still as he could while Wheeljack worked to reset his energy distribution. The engineer whistled when he came across the changes to Ironhide's cannons. "Now that's creative. Ratchet's work, right? The converter would've kept working, too, even after the initial reuse of the weapons. That mass expulsion shorted it out, though. I can give you another boost of temporary access, but a full fix will have to wait for Ratchet."
As Wheeljack turned his attention to the warrior's wounded leg a clanging sound drew Ironhide's gaze to the dissipating smoke. The third mech was kicking the downed Gutcruncher in the head. He stopped after a few more kicks and gave a quick wave of one hand. "Hey, Ironhide. Long time no see." He was shorter than the other two and was armored in red, one of the horns on his helm jagged on top from the tip being broken off.
"Cliffjumper. You are alive."
"If some Decepticon bragged that he'd killed me in the Battle for Zortaltian VIII, it was a lie." He dusted off his hands as he approached. "But, yeah, was out in the outer reaches for a long time. We didn't know if Prime's message was still good when we received it, but we followed it to this solar system. Stopped to rest on Mars 'cause we picked up Cybertronian energy, thought it was a way station. We saw these chumps just in time -- you know, before they saw us. We holed up elsewhere on the planet and kept an eye on them, monitoring for more messages from Prime, getting to know Earth stuff." He grinned. "Congratulations on killing Megatron twice!"
"Twice?" It sounded more like a confused grunt.
Cliffjumper deciphered the word, however, and gave him a weird look. "Isn't that why the Combaticons suddenly took off? Onslaught was champing at the bit for the chance to drop all other contenders for leadership of the 'Cons when they heard the news."
Ironhide's optics dimmed. "I have been a little... out of the loop."
"Radio silence mission?" Cliffjumper surmised.
"On leave for a personal mission."
Wheeljack and Cliffjumper both looked at him with curiosity. He shook his head. "Later. We have more important business here." He then glanced up at the gray mech.
"Smokescreen," he introduced himself with a small smile, reading the look. "New recruit. Former civilian," he added at the caution that appeared in Ironhide's face. "I was in the outer reaches on business when the Decepticons came through. I didn't appreciate them trying to level my company assets, so I volunteered to help Cliffjumper's crew."
Ironhide's optics dimmed again as he glanced from Wheeljack to the red mech. "Are you all that remains of your team, then?" They nodded solemnly.
"We did pick up someone else on the way, though," Cliffjumper said with a single upraised finger, which he then pointed skyward with. "He's beating up Astrotrain back on Mars."
Ironhide's optics brightened and he rumbled thoughtfully. "Someone big enough to handle Astrotrain would be a great help in what we need to take care of here."
Cliffjumper smacked a fist into his open palm. "Well, tell us! I'll call him down!"
"I need to show you." As Wheeljack continued to repair his leg, Ironhide explained -- minus certain personal details -- how he had met Morris and the discovery the human had shown him.
"You're sure of the radiation type?" Wheeljack asked, pushing Ironhide's leg plating into its correct alignment.
"Yes."
Wheeljack sat back after he finished and ran his fingertips over his mouth guard. He did not comment further.
Cliffjumper glanced at the downed Combaticons and grinned. "Well, at least we can deal with it in peace. We've got the Decepticons beat!"
The sound of a distant helicopter drew their attention eastward. Ironhide's head went up sharply as he sought it out. He sighed heavily. "And now we have even more explaining to do."
~*~
When Windcharger and Huffer approached the estimated impact site, the shuttle's visual sensors displayed several things neither had expected: A helicopter belonging to the Australian Defense Force, three standing mechs, five more mechs laid out in a row on the ground, and a familiar large black pick up truck.
Ironhide.
The two transmitted the visual to the Ark as the shuttle's IFF marked the five downed mechs as the Combaticons and two of the standing bots as Wheeljack and Cliffjumper. The third -- who, incidentally, was the one speaking with the humans -- was unknown to them and the shuttle's database.
The group's attention was immediately diverted to the shuttle, Ironhide transforming with a particular speed. A message from Huffer made the group relax. Even so, he and Windcharger disembarked with hands raised as a sign of peace. Upon approach they saw the varying official uniforms of the humans, except for one who looked like an average tourist.
Ironhide merely nodded and grunted by way of greeting. The two minibots knew better than to ask how he had ended up there, of all the times and places to be. Still, when all the humans turned to their helicopter, Huffer couldn't help making the gruff comment to Ironhide, "I see you have everything in hand here."
"They did most of the work," Ironhide replied quietly, tilting his head toward Wheeljack, then glancing at the one human in causal clothes. The man had left the others and was returning to the gathered Autobots.
"Morris Brodsky," he introduced himself, turning to smile at each bot. "Pleasure to meet all of you."
"We have something to show you," Ironhide said, motioning to Wheeljack in particular. "Smokescreen, would you mind guarding them?" He pointed to the Combaticons.
"Not at all." The gray mech nodded and stepped over to the stasis-locked Decepticons. Ironhide transformed and let Morris in on his passenger side. He waited for the others to take vehicle form, then he led them and the helicopter toward the fault scarp.
Once there Morris deactivated the camouflage net. Ironhide was almost afraid the body would no longer be there, as if the Combaticons were merely a diversion, but there was a collective gasp from humans and bots alike at the sight. Wheeljack slid right down beside the exposed section and began projecting three-dimensional readings and graphs around himself. "You're right to keep the humans back, Ironhide. The radiation's still high. But...it shouldn't be, even for a Prime, and having been buried so long..." Wheeljack tapped his mouth plate, the light projections spinning around him.
Huffer tried to keep up with the numbers and chemical lists scrolling in the air but ended up cross-eyed. He finally grabbed Wheeljack's raised arm, distracting him from projecting the data. "That means there was an additional source of radiation."
"Perhaps whatever it was that killed him," Ironhide suggested.
Wheeljack nodded and proceeded to analyze what he had gleaned from the body and surrounding rock, refraining from projecting data outwardly this time. His headfins flickered a few times, and although he said nothing, the others could hear the low hum of his processors working away. Huffer began to pick at the glass and obsidian, running some analyses of his own. Windcharger and Cliffjumper wandered further along the scarp, talking privately, catching each other up on recent events. Morris, while keeping a respectable distance away, watched Huffer and Wheeljack in interest.
Finally Wheeljack's headfins flashed brightly for several seconds as he sighed. "I think I might know the source. Lemme talk with Smokescreen. He mentioned something similar one time."
"Like what?" Huffer asked, brushing his hands off. "I haven't seen anything like this before."
Wheeljack, being accustomed to the shorter bot's attitude, explained calmly, "The isotopes resulting from flash-heated electrum produce a rare radiation, and electrum doesn't occur naturally on Earth nor about two-thirds of the planets in the universe. It also can't be created artificially."
"So...this guy was armored in electrum at some point?" Huffer jerked a thumb toward the body.
"No. The one who killed him was."
~*~
"Hands in the air, NOW! All of you!"
The infiltration had gone without a hitch. Swindle's drones had done exactly what he had said they would. No alarms triggered, no security intervention, and now Epps stared hard with his gun trained on Tom Banachek. He saw the slow nod the former Sector Seven agent gave to his crew, and anyone who had hesitated to raise their hands before immediately raised them now.
Tom stared right back at him and spoke as if Bobby had been in on everything the entire time. "We've translated some of these writings. Somethin' is comin'."
"Yeah? So why didn't you share this earlier--" Epps indicated the chamber with a brief pointing of his chin, his eyes not leaving Banachek's face. "Y'know, before you betrayed the country?"
"No Americans were harmed in the takeover. Just a temporary suppression of freedom for the good of the majority."
"Is that your fancy term for mind control?" Epps stepped closer, gun remaining level. "'Temporary suppression of freedom'. And what about the Cybertronian you illegally detained?"
Banachek's grim mien never changed. "Don't trust him."
"Same way we trusted you?" Epps tilted his gun toward the main entrance. "Out. Now. All of you. You can make your excuses to the President." In the back of his mind Bobby was braced for the other shoe to drop. As the member's of Banachek's team filed past him with his men matched one for one, he waited for any 'Hail ISOC!' nonsense. Yet the line moved quickly and peacefully.
That made him worry even more. He clicked a button on an Autobot-provided wristwatch that would notify Tracks and Swindle of his concern. Out of the corner of his eye Epps saw the response: the tiny drones swarming over the equipment, finding their way inside to shut down every last circuit.
It only made him feel just as uneasy. He hit another button that signalled only to Tracks.
~*~
"'Something is coming'? Do you have any idea what he is on about?" Tracks asked Swindle. He didn't like the way the mechanoid face displayed on Swindle's chest screen was looking -- intrigued with its optics shifting, the calculation of profit clear as day.
"Must be something worth risking his reputation for," Swindle replied, his tone too absent for Tracks' liking. Then the other mech looked right at him, both camera and screen image. "He was very loyal to his government at one time. It sounded to me like he knew what was best."
"But what would killing us have to do with the message he thinks he decoded in there?" Tracks made no acknowledgment of Firestar creeping around in Swindle's blind spot.
"Maybe he thinks we attracted whatever is coming."
"You do know something." Firestar stepped down beside Swindle, a small side-arm style muzzle protruding from her left forearm, which she held slightly behind her.
Swindle pivoted his camera toward her. "It isn't the Vok, at least." He lifted his arm to show the scurrying drones.
He started to turn away, but she grabbed the top of his lense casing and forced his gaze back to hers. "You and these Vok. Forget them. Is it Cybertronian? Is it of us?"
"Won't know until we decipher all of those glyphs, will we?" Swindle's camera zoomed in and out behind the glass as if lining up the perfect photo of her -- or as if implying that he wasn't going to reveal anything else. "Put the gun away, please. We still have a deal." Firestar's gaze didn't waver, but her arm clacked as the panels folded down. "Let's get this data to the geek squad, shall we?" Swindle flicked the cover down on the small screen in his arm, now monitoring his drones internally.
Tracks sent a signal to Epps to confirm the soldier's unease.
~*~
Bobby was waiting for the reply. He pointed to the team who was to remain behind to disassemble the equipment, and gave them a sign to take note of what the drones were doing.
The hum of machinery around them abruptly stopped. The drones retreated and lined up in perfect rows against one of the walls that did not have any equipment near it. Epps received another coded message from Tracks telling him the barrier had been lowered and Swindle was about to recall his drones. Bobby pretended to give out more orders via hand signals, but when the drones began to file out by way of the chamber entrance, he followed. The rest of his men would have gotten Banachek's group secured inside vans under the supervision of Tracks and Firestar.
He wanted in on the interrogations. He also wished that Lennox could be there to give his opinion from having worked under Banachek all this time. However, he was stopped from getting into the van that held Tom by a wave from his comms officer. "Encrypted call for you from SecDef, sir." The man led him to the armored jeep parked away from the vans. Epps glanced back as two of the vans started up, the one containing Banachek following next. He huffed, irked, and pulled himself into the jeep by the side roll bar. He confirmed his identity then accessed the call.
"Sergeant Epps, I have a new proposal for you. I think you'll like it more than your previous job. There will be some familiar faces around..."
~*~
Prowl, Inferno, and Chromia were waiting at Edwards Air Force Base when two C-17's touched down. The airfield was cordoned off with only a specifically selected number of receiving crew nearby to help with the unloading. Huffer and Windcharger had gone ahead to the Ark, passing along Wheeljack's readings and Ironhide's cave scans to Perceptor. A team would return to Australia to excavate Live Convoy once the Autobots had regrouped and the Combaticons had been incarcerated, .
Chromia strode onto the runway with no regard to the bustle around the first plane, also ignoring Prowl's call for her to return to her station. She walked right up to the offramp of the second plane and stepped onto it, crouching to clear the door frame as she entered the cargo space. She moved past three sports cars and halted, crossing her arms as she stared down at the Topkick still anchored to the floor. The technicians were quick to remove the straps and chains from the vehicles. They knew they weren't at risk, but the sight was intimidating all the same. The three cars were just as quick to disembark.
Ironhide transformed but did not stand fully. He gazed up at her. The second their optics met she felt a distinct pang of failure wash over her spark. She reached out for his hand to offer to pull him up, but instead he took her hand tightly in his, bowing his head over it. Chromia uttered a soft, questing electronic trill. She placed her other hand on the back of his head, leaning over to cradle him against her.
She spoke quietly in Cybertronian, "You did not find what you were looking for."
"No," he replied in a whisper. She released him so he could raise his head and look her in the optics. She gently clasped his face between her hands, then brushed one finger over the scarred side. He continued, "But I know how we can save Cybertron."
Her optics brightened and she searched his gaze for further hope. However, they dimmed when he transmitted a series of gylphs that he had not shared with the others. The weight of a severe decision settled over her and she leaned forward again, touching her forehead to his as he took her hand again and clasped it tightly.
~*~
"Tonight on the six o-clock news: John Keller steps down as the Secretary of Defense with no notice. Does this have to do with the events at Edwards Air Force Base and how will his successor handle relations with the Autobots? Channel Two News will find out."
~*~
"Well, that was laughable," Motormaster snorted after reviewing the capture of the Combaticons. Soundwave may have been incarcerated but his plague of Insecticons were still doing well with spreading themselves around the globe. "And Onslaught wanted to take over as leader? His processors must be rusting if he let himself be distracted so badly."
"The lesson will teach him where his place in the Decepticon hierarchy is," replied a mech on a communications feed; the only visible part of him was a vague angular outline and a single, circular yellow glow in the middle that didn't illuminate his other features.
"Three down, one to go -- or two to go, if I am not still in your good graces." Motormaster grinned a wide, horrible grin. "Patience is not one of my traits, you know."
"I do know. I appreciate your temperamental sacrifice in the name of loyalty to the Decepticon cause. Your situation will change soon. I have several leads on Starscream and what he has discovered. He will be caught and eliminated. With internal strife quelled we will claim what is ours from the other four planets."
"We will be ready and willing to crush this mudball when you command, Lord Shockwave."
When the feed ended Motormaster's grin became a sneer. From behind him Barricade spoke. "Patience is the only thing keeping us from ending up like the Combaticons and the others."
"This planet should already be nothing but an outpost," Motormaster snarled in reply. "Yet, no! We failed to commandeer the Ark, failed to resurrect Megatron, and now we just hide instead of even moving toward destroying the last of the Autobots!"
"These are not the last. There are more out in space," Barricade said.
The Stunticon leader rumbled loudly in warning. Barricade responded in a flat tone, "It is the truth. All your thundering will not change that." Motormaster went silent, which Barricade found more disturbing than the Stunticons' need for immediate, violent destruction. He hated all five of them, but he had his own orders from Shockwave. "Frenzy and the others have completed their infiltration. They will obtain the remaining information we seek and then you can reduce the humans' cities to cinders when you distract the Autobots. I will take care of the boring work."
"I can make your job much easier by burning everything down. Then all you have to do is sift through the ashes." He uttered an ugly laugh. Barricade ignored him.
To Be Concluded