Two's Company

by gruff

Micromaster spy saga set on Cybertron. Patrols and Squads are in their infancies, forming and re-forming, trying to find the balance for a successful team. Two Autobot spies uncover more than they bargained for during a routine mission beyond enemy lines.

Two's Company by gruff

CHAPTER 1

The morning began to grow from the misty grey haze into a glowing emulation of the natural light that reflected from all surfaces of the metallic planet. By noon, the panelled surface scorched and buckled under the intense heat of the day. The brightness requiring optical shielding in the same way the heat demanded internal temperature self-regulation using complex cooling systems. Yet the daily appreciation of their wonderous planet was balanced by the struggle to comprehend that parts were so unrecognisably ravaged by war, huge chunks never saw the light of day for the thick smog that blanketed the endless battlegrounds of the Front Line. Today was no exception.

"I was so close I could have reached out and tapped him on the shoulder!" laughed Tote, transforming from his red vehicle mode entering the halls of one of many Autobase's upon Cybertron. High Jump echoed his partner's laughter with that of his own, his subconscious relief of being indoors and out of the perilously seductive sun causing his cooling system to reduce in intensity for the first time that morning. Without breaking stride, the pair of Micromasters took the stairs two steps at a time. Another smile crept upon the face of the Autobots. "Security!" laughed Tote again. "They call that security?"

High Jump shook his head and continued to smile. "You know, I was that close," he boasted, a finger and thumb barely apart, "to leaving a Jump-o-gram on the console!" he laughed. Tote burst into laughter too at the concept. High Jump's practical jokes were legendry, if only to Tote, the one Autobot that knew him better than he knew himself. Their partnership had lasted years, and despite last week when High Jump reconfigured Tote's personal computer console to do nothing more than spam the monitors to sing his own praises, including animations of the happy, grey Autobot dancing around a bemused-looking Tote, their bond had never been stronger. "But I didn't think I had the time." he finished.

"Besides, we'd have to hang around and see Blackjack's face!" laughed Tote, imagining how the Decepticon would fume at the abuse of his console. Tote, too, was not without his humourous moments. His mutual desire to get one over on his companion had spawned hundreds of equally good-natured, if soon-to-be-avenged stunts involving the personal embarassment of High Jump. The pair reached the top of the flight of steps and turned to walk down the corridor. "And we'd have been caught for sure!"

The pair of them laughed some more. Observers could be forgiven for mistaking them for a couple of irresponsible jokers. But the truth was they were dedicated to their missions and, more importantly, the welfare of each other; without each other they were no longer a partnership, a partnership considered by Countdown to be one of the most powerful and productive partnerships under his command.

The reality was they worked so close to the Front Line, and often beyond it, that they had witnessed the true horrors of the war first hand. They could no longer fully appreciate the wonder of a Cybertronian Dawn because just returning to Autobot terrain alive and alongside his companion was such a relief, the natural beauty of the planet was trivial by comparison. They needed their own way to get away from the evils of their world that their playful banter and its associated and increasingly inventive practical humour was their way of forgetting their troubles, if only momentarily.

Placing their momories on hold and stopping to speak briefly with Oiler, currently on duty as security at Countdown's desk, they were ushered into their commander's briefing room. Had this been their first time in the impressive chamber, they may have looked around at the equally impressive array of technological equipment reserved for high-ranking officers such as Countdown. Had their naturally artistic temprement not been crushed by the stark seriousness of war, they may have appreciated the statues and tributes relating to past glories, conquests and leaders. But this was not the first time they had been summoned by Countdown, nor was it even the thousandth time. Tote and High Jump were considered regulars.

Countdown greeted the duo with his usual warmth and respect. Rarely had he come across a pair that worked so well on an individual basis as well as together. He took a personal pride in their working and social relationships; after all, it was he who introduced them to each other for a joint assignment so long ago all three would be hard pressed to recall the details. Tote and High Jump, along with a handful of other troops were under Countdown's command when he was a lower-ranked officer. He often recalled their reluctance to take on the responsibility of a partner, each insisting on his own preference of working alone over the complexities of teamwork despite some of the obvious benefits. But under his guidance, the two worked together on a number of minor operations, and since then were inseperable.

Their pleasantries exchanged, the trio settled to the serious business of the day. They talked about their previous mission, High Jump and Tote taking turns reminding Countdown of the key points of their report. They recalled their success in penetrating the small Decepticon base in the wastegrounds of Drust. They had slipped beyond the hapless Sports Car Patrol and were able to plant the remote controlled spy equipment, deep within the base itself. But owing to recent Decepticon activity and construction work, it was time to discuss an alternative site as their choice location for the covert signal amplifier to boost the data from the spy equipment to the other Autobot receivers.

Countdown clicked a button or two on his console and brought up the image of the area surrounding the base, over which the semi-transparent locus of suitable sites overlaid. "Obviously, we want the amplifier as far from the Decepticons as possible." he explained. "We need to minimise the risk of its discovery." He continued, as if High Jump and Tote needed further explanation. "So we need to test its effectiveness at this range and, if possible, extend this range." The two Autobots nodded in unison. "We've shortlisted a few sites which we think might be appropriate from the list you gave me before." Countdown illustrated with the highlighting of three suggested sites on the map." He looked at his two espionage experts. "If you find somewhere better, then by all means investigate it later, but first it is important to get something up and running. We need that data."

High Jump shook his head. "Don't worry." he suggested. "We've already covered that area and we know where it should be best placed." Tote offered similar words of assurance. "So, we get the amplifier from Erector?"

Countdown shook his head and selected another computerised file to be brought up on the screen. "We'll not be using the standard G1700." he explained, with reference to the tried-and-trusted signal amplifier. "We have a new design. This will be the first of its type." The image on the screen took High Jump by surprise.

"That must be twice as big as a 1700." he observed. "Bigger, maybe." Countdown nodded, but explained the G1750 had a number of development advantages. Aside from a bolstered security and encryption module, the amplifier could broadcast stronger and clearer over a larger range.

"The signals are sent directly across the surface," he explained, "instead of bouncing off satellites." High Jump smirked. he could see where this was headed. "It makes it harder to intercept. Besides," reasoned Countdown, "the Decepticons keep taking out our communication satellites and we need to revert to more direct methods."

Tote looked thoughtful for a moment. "But if it's that large," he began, almost thinking out aloud, "then we can write off site number two right away." High Jump nodded. "It'd stick out like a 'scraper." Countdown was confident Tote and High Jump could find a suitable location for the amplifier, but there was something else bothering them. "But the real problem with the size of it is how do we get it there? Even if we split it up it'll never fit inside us." he asked.

Countdown offered a calming gesture with his hands. "Taken care of." he answered cooly. "I've arranged for a couple of hauliers to go with you." High Jump and Tote looked at each other. This was the first time they had ever been offered companionship on a mission beyond enemy lines.

It was Tote who spoke first. "With respect," he began, "we have experience in working behind enemy lines. We know how..." he paused, looking for the right phrase.

"We know how not to get caught." finished High Jump bluntly, taking over the thread. "We can't have a couple of civi's..."

"They aren't civilians." interupted Countdown. He was right, so he believed. Ever since the start of the war, the use of civilians in everyday activities from routine transportation to covert missions had become routine. They were so wound up in the war they were soldiers already, all but in name.

"That's not what he meant." Tote backed down on High Jump's behalf. "I just mean, we don't have experience in working in groups."

High Jump shrugged. "And quite frankly I'm not sure we want it." He snapped. For all Tote's attempted subtlety, High Jump was leaving little to the imagination. "Enemy territory is no place for an unprotected group."

Countdown smiled. "Don't worry, the Battle Patrol will cover you from here." he indicated, with a click on the screen. The location for the amplification tower was marked alongside a number of additional markers to represent their military escort. High Jump and Tote looked at each other, unconvinced for the need for the invasion of their partnership.

"You know," comprimised High Jump. "I reckon we can manage by ourselves."

"Yeah," echoed Tote, "we can make a couple of trips if necessary."

"No." demanded Countdown. "We can't afford the time. We need that spy equipment working as soon as possible."

"Like when?" asked Tote.

"Like yesterday." Countdown explained. "They hit two satellites last night and a ground transmitter. We have nothing in the area and I'm worried they are up to something big and ugly to take such an offensive on our intelligence."

The duo began to realise that they were going to be given help whether they wanted it or not. "So, who's the help?" asked Tote.

"Ironworks and Powertrain." answered his superior. Tote's eyes rolled over and faced the ceiling. High Jump, again, was less subtle.

"Primus!" High Jump spat. "Why didn't you just tell us you wanted us killed?" he seethed. "Those two are about as discrete as a nuclear explosion!" Countdown gave him that look, the one that demanded respect, reminding High Jump who he was speaking to. "Look all I'm saying is, we," he contiued, softer with a hand gesture between himself and Tote, "we're already a team. We don't need a couple of layabouts mucking things up." Tote shrugged, but showed ultimately that he agreed with High Jump.

"Look," reasoned Countdown, "I'm not asking you to form the Haulage Patrol." he explained. "It's just that I need these guys to go with you. They need the experience, if nothing else." Tote shook his head. He knew there was nothing left to say. For a moment High Jump looked like there maybe something he could say to change Countdown's mind, but there was nothing. "Besides, Ironworks is both a construction and communications specialist. He was on the design team of the 1750. It will do him good to see it operating in the field, see if he can improve the design."

"That's all we need." High Jump muttered, rolling his optics. "Slaggin' college boy."

"I know you have reservations about working with others," continued Countdown. "but they are a responsible pair." He could tell that both were still annoyed. "I seem to remember you two swearing to only work alone," he blackmailed, "'One's company - two's a crowd' you used to say. And now look at you."

The two Autobots looked at each other. "That's different." persisted High Jump.

"Yes." replied Countdown. "Yes, that's different alright; there was far more risk putting you two together than you teaming up with a couple more hands. Besides, it's just for one operation." he reminded them.

Tote sighed and looked at High Jump. "Well in that case I don't think we have much choice then, do we?" he asked.

Countdown shook his head. "No." he answered, before filling them in on the remainder of the details.

The two left the room dejectedly. How dare Countdown force the responsibility of two companions upon them? They were High Jump and Tote. They were not High Jump and Tote and whatever hangers-on that could be found. It would be bad enough to have a couple of soldiers thrust upon them, but two inexperienced civilian transporters? Between them neither High Jump nor Tote had many missions that could be considered failures, but the more they thought of all the things that could go wrong, the more they felt that minor tally count waiting to increase. They even missed Oiler's friendly word of goodbye on the way out, they were so lost in thought.

It was High Jump that spoke first. "It's not going to work." He predicted. "They're going to screw it up." Tote nodded, but said nothing. They walked another couple of steps and down the stairs. "I mean, it's all about getting in and out as fast as possible without giving yourself away." He continued. Tote already knew this, but indulged High Jump in his cheap outburst.

Transforming into their rugged vehicle forms, the two Autobots left the base and drove along the freeway that mirrored the midday sun. Accelerating to their cruising speed, High Jump pulled alongside his partner to continue his gripe. "And how does he know which route we're taking?" He moaned. "We could have been going across the Forlan Delta for all..."

"We aren't now, are we?" answered Tote at the reference to the battered wastelands that would have formed a short cut for them. "There's no chance we can get a couple of transporters across there." He suggested. High Jump agreed, pulling in behind Tote to let Freewheeler speed past them. They may not have been the fastest Autobots around, but their tough alternate modes were designed to allow them to travel across ground unsuitable others. Now even that advantage was being taken from them.

The pair silently deliberated the day's news, each trying to calm themselves to allow them to make the most of a bad situation. Perhaps it would not be so bad, after all. That was how Tote was coping with it. Provided the two civi's did what they were told, when they were told, perhaps it would be over quick enough. Like Countdown had said, this is a one-off mission to install a G1750. Sooner or later, the boffins would create a smaller version that he or High Jump could take in transit, which could be installed by them alone again.

High Jump was more worried about the exposure two larger Autobots might create for them. He and Tote had a system of silent gestures and movements that allowed simple, undetectable communication. They had methods to ensure their spy installations would not be detectable in a number of ways. Their routines were becoming more and more right-first-time and they could be confident that their job could be done quickly, quietly and correctly. These were all based on years of experience. Now they had to start from scratch with a couple of rookies and great hulk of equipment they knew next to nothing about.

Their warehouse was up ahead and the Autobots pulled off the freeway. "High Jump," began Tote just before they entered the building, "remember, it's not their fault." he reminded him. "So don't have a go at them." High Jump assured him he was feeling a little calmer now, but warned that if they jepardised their mission he might not be so tolerent.

They transformed and walked up to their new colleagues. Standing there, sizing each other up, they quickly observed their new hands were each of similar, standard Cybertronian flatbed design, maybe even the same design? "You must be Powertrain and Ironworks?" asked Tote, extending an arm in the traditional way to gesture a peaceful welcome.

"I'm Powertrain." explained the orange Autobot, before Ironworks introduced himself.

"I'm..." began Tote.

"You're Tote and High Jump." interupted Ironworks, nodding respectively towards each in turn. Had this been under different circumstance, High Jump's optics might have narrowed beneath his V-shaped visor. It was friendly rivalry that dictated his preference to being known as 'High Jump and Tote' rather than 'Tote and High Jump'. But he was in no mood for games. "You don't need any introduction," Ironworks smiled. "we know all about you."

"I very much doubt that." High Jump remarked abruptly. Tote looked sternly at his partner. "Well," continued High Jump, a little softer, "we work in the spying game; we're bound to be a little secretive." Wasting no time, High Jump eyed up the large structure in the middle of the warehouse. "'This the 1750?" he asked.

Powertrain nodded and turned instinctively to face it. "Yeah," he confirmed, "it's a little larger in thr flesh, so to speak, than we expected."

"But we should be able to manage it." finished Ironworks confidently. "So you ready for us to load up?"

"No." snapped High Jump, Tote shaking his head. "The first thing we have to do is reassemble it." Powertrain and Ironworks looked blankly at each other. "We need to be sure we know exactly how to reassemble it on the field." Explained High Jump.

"Remember, this is an in-and-out job," continued Tote, "and we can't afford to make any mistakes. We mustn't be there any longer than necessary."

"That's why we have to be sure how this things goes together." finished High Jump. Powertrain cast a glance to Ironworks who merely shrugged. He had designed the equipment, after all, but perhaps now was not the time to mention this. It was best to keep on the right side of the two spies. With a brave face, the companions nodded. and Powertrain and Ironworks began to re-assemble the apparatus. It was a complex operation to ensure the delicate components were neither damaged nor misplaced. High Jump stood watching, almost supervising, his arms crossed in a relaxed fashion, but with clearly no intention of helping. Tote made a motion to join the two transportation Autobots, but High Jump shook his head. He felt they need to prove themselves alone before they deserved help from him, or indeed his partner.

Some time later the machinery was fully re-assembled. High Jump, who had been recording images of the construction process in his memory for future reference finally spoke. "Looks okay." He commented, unfolding his arms and walking around the structure judging the work of his assistants. Ironworks and Powertrain looked at each other and smiled with slight pride. High Jump knelt beside a small unit attatched to its side, clearly looking distressed at what he saw. He got up and shook his head. "Can you tell me what that is?" he asked angrily, pointing at the unit.

Ironworks shrugged. "It's the gateway communicator." He replied, referring to the installation instructions he had firmly in his memory. High Jump shook his head and asked him to look again. Ironworks and Powertrain walked over and leant closer. What was it? Powertrain and Ironworks exchanged glances, indicating neither had established what the problem was. "It's just the gateway communicator." repeated Ironworks, slightly less confidently this time, looking up at High Jump. High Jump shook his head and looked over to Tote.

He, too, walked closer to see what the commotion was all about. Immediately his experience allowed him to see beyond the unit to see the problem High Jump had discovered. "It's the LED." He explained. The two Autobots still did not understand.

Ironworks shrugged again. "That just flashes to tell us when data is being transmitted.

"Wrong!" spat High Jump, interupting. "It flashes to tell the Decepticons when data is being transmitted!" Powertrain looked back at Ironworks with a look that told him he agreed. Ironworks nodded. "It's like a giant beacon telling them this spy equipment is here!" High Jump continued. "Primus!" he muttered more quietly. "Which moron designed this stuff?"

Ironworks said nothing. "So what do..." began Powertrain.

"Get rid of it!" ordered High Jump, his hands raised in desperation.

"How?" asked Ironworks.

"I don't care!" snapped High Jump. "Just get rid of it." he repeated walking off towards the other side of the warehouse, trying to calm down. Tote shrugged and followed his partner. Aware of Tote's presense behind him, High Jump shook his head. "Don't say it." he muttered out of earshot of Ironworks and Powertrain.

"No," assured Tote, coming into High Jump's vision, "you're right." he agreed. "They need to learn, and this is how to teach them." High Jump nodded at his partner's concurrance. They stood and talked a little longer before announcing to the others they were going to find the Battle Patrol.

"Battle Patrol?" asked Ironworks, a little bemused.

"Yes." answered Tote. "High Jump," he asked, facing his partner, "you go on and find them; I'll stay here with these guys." He wanted some time to attempt to get along with his new colleagues without the more tempremental High Jump adding unnecessary tension to their situation.

--

CHAPTER 2

Countdown rolled his optics. "Sure thing, Groundshaker." He nodded at his Autobot Commander over the intercom. "No problem." He closed the channel and sat back in his chair, letting out a long drawn-out sigh. It had been a long morning, so he had thought, yet the reality was it had only just begun. If breaking the news to High Jump and Tote had been painful enough, somewhere in between now and breaking even worse news to them he had a duptation from Monster Truck Patrol to deal with. Bracing himself, he buzzed the intercom signalling to Oiler he was ready as he would ever be for them. He sighed again at the two or less seconds of remaining calm as the five robots bustled into the room.

As Micromasters went, the Monster Truck Patrol were some of the larger ones, and also some of the more outspoken. They were ground-based transporters who had been forceably evolved during their time into a strong unit of soldiers. Each one of them tried to push themselves to the front of the rabble to make himself heard over the others. Countdown shook his head; he had promised to see them after weeks of pressure, but he really did not have the time for this, not even for five minutes. Lifting his head he raised a single hand in the air. "Enough!" he yelled, causing each in turn to slow and quieten until each were silent.

"One of you," he continued, "what is this about?" Each began to explain, before the hand raised again. "Slow Poke, you first."

Slow Poke looked across at his colleagues and spoke. "It's not working. We," he explained with a hand gesture across the front of them all, "we're not working. It's just not working." he repeated. Countdown asked what he meant. Slow Poke sighed. "It's Mudslinger, he..." he began.

"Oh that's right!" spat Mudslinger, interupting and almost squaring up to his team-mate. "Blame me. I'm not the one that busted Groundshaker's lab." He explained forcefully, referring to an argument between Slow Poke and Hydraulic in an out-of-bounds laboratory that had resulted in a wrecking spree of mayhem. Their unauthorised shenanegans had put the Autobots' research back by weeks and caused untold damage.

"What? You think that was my fault?" reacted Slow Poke, an almost ironic thumb pointing selfwards.

"Well it certainly wasn't..." replied Mudslinger, before being cut off by Countdown, who had darted around the desk, grimacing as he physically intervened.

"What is this all about?" Demanded their commander. "I mean, come on, you guys have been working together for five minutes and you're already at each others' throats!"

Slow Poke shook his head. "No," he dared to correct Countdown, "we've been together for years," gesturing towards himself, Heavy Tread and Big Hauler, "it's these two that are the problem." he finished.

"Hey!" objected Hydraulic. "Don't blame me!"

Mudslinger looked silently at the rest of the group. "Oh, so it's all my fault, is it?" he asked retorically. "Primus! You guys are such hypocrites." He cussed.

Slow Poke was about to answer but Countdown spoke up. "Look at yourselves!" he commanded. "You squabble like a bunch of Decepticons. Look," he explained, "I don't have the time to sort out your domestic disputes."

"Domestic?" asked Heavy Tread.

"Yes!" boomed Countdown. "Your internal problems are your own doing and quite frankly I don't care if you all want to rip each others' circuits out." He continued. "Your job is to do as I say and work together, you got that?" He walked back around the desk, bolstering the psychological barrier with a physical one, serving as a reminder of who was in charge. "I'm not asking you to be friends." He explained a little calmer. "All I ask is that you try to get along professionally, for the good of the mission. Okay?" Five sets of eyes, visored or otherwise wandered around the room avoiding contact with Countdown's. "I mean," he explained tapping a few keys on the console and bringing up a few old reports, "when you put your heads together you've got results before." He noted, pointing at the console display as a reminder of successful cooperation. "Look." He finished. "The bottom line is I'm not splitting you up. You guys work together, period." He paused. "Now get out of my sight, I've got real issues to resolve."

Mudslinger and Slow Poke cast ugly glances at each other, before they left the room muttering to each other speculating whose fault it was they were to remain a unit. "And see Oiler on the way out," called Countdown overhead, "I've got a job for you guys!"

--

CHAPTER 3

"What?" questioned Tote, shaking his head at the news, his mouth dropping open and optics glancing over at High Jump. He, too, was in disbelief. He had spent the past hour or so trying to get in touch with Countdown and work out what had happened to the Battle Partol to no avail. Having returned to Tote, he was almost dumbfounded by their commander's decision that had finally come through.

"No!" He shook his head. "No way, Countdown. No." High Jump could scarcely stop his head shaking. "You can't do this, Countdown."

Tote shook his head, his arms now outstretched in full and pressing heavy on the communication desk Countdown's arkward face revealed an uneasiness of his own alongside a look of desperation. "Sorry guys, this is not my call." He explained. Ironworks and Powertrain, still in the midst of the construction drills High Jump and Tote were putting them through again, sensed some animosity when High Jump turned on his heel and kicked a can of oil the length of the warehouse with a fierce growl.

"Come on, Countdown." Tote bargained. "I mean, the Monster Truck Patrol?" He stressed, trying to convey his contempt for the decision. Countdown reminded him that this decision was not taken lightly and that his hands were tied.

Ironworks took a step forward after a quick nod of approval from Powertrain. He took a second before opening his mouth to talk to High Jump who stood fuming, his back to the communications desk. "What is it?" he asked finally.

"It's freaking smelt slag, that's what it is." High Jump spat.

Tote switched off the monitor with yet another shake of the head. "Apparently our escort is needed elsewhere." He explained with an ironic wobble of the head to mimic Countdown's perceived stance. "The Battle Patrol has been reassigned so we get the Monster Truck Patrol." His head was still shaking. "That's all." He finished facetiously.

Powertrain took a step forward. "But aren't they..." he began.

"Civi's." High Jump snapped. "Yeah. They are, more or less. Just like you." He stamped his way out of the warehouse. "God, this is going to be one monumental screw up." He was heard spitting to himself as he disappeared from view.

The Monster Truck's status as 'civilian' was only three-fifths accurate. Mudslinger and Hydraulic had both served a considerable time in the Autobot Armed Forces. Both had experience on the Front Line and had seen their fair share of the action. The other three had only recently graduated into the Autobot ranks and had been in just a handful of missions apiece. Countdown's attempt to mix youth and experience was a strategy he had employed to great effect in the past and while their internal relationship could be described at best as 'under development', it was important to get missions under their collective belts if they were to operate as a fighting unit.

Tote knew this. He understood Countdown's position and this was not the first time they had been let down when it came to getting military support. Nor would it be the last. However, as important as it was that young Autobot soldiers got a taste for action, this was one mission where he felt Countdown was making a mistake. He returned to the console and brought up the file on the Monster Trucks. Scanning its contents, his worst fears were realised. Loud, proud and uncooperative seemed to be the most concise description. They would be better off alone without them on this mission. Stealth was far more important than firepower.

He looked up to see High Jump walking more calmly back into the warehouse, his head shaking in discord. "They're here." He informed Tote reluctantly and a minute or so later the noise of five powerful engines drawing to a halt. Hydraulic entered the building in his robot form and glanced around instinctively at the structure of the G1750. Slow Poke, Heavy Tread and Big Hauler followed with Mudslinger bringing up the rear alone.

"Head's up troops!" Heavy Tread called, taking to his robot form.

"Yeah," echoed Slow Poke, "the Calvary's here!" He walked in with a grin stretching across his face.

Ironworks glanced over his shoulder as Big Hauler strolled over with an equally large grin and swagger of bravado. The Truck walked over to Ironworks with a quick and unnerving stance change, pointing his fingers like imaginary guns and making a clicking sound. "Oh yeah!" He nodded in satisfaction, blowing the imaginary smoke from his imaginary guns. He flashed a wink at Ironworks before facing Tote and High Jump.

Heavy Tread stepped over to the Autobot spies, eying them up and down a couple of times. "So then, boss, where do you want us?" He asked, taking to a seat with a smile and propping up his chin with an arm as Slow Poke gave a whoop of delight behind him.

High Jump glanced at Tote to see his head shaking, a little in dispair and a little in disbelief. "First things first," High Jump started, stepping forward a little and kicking the chair from underneath Heavy Tread, "you're right. We're the boss." He reminded them, standing over Heavy Tread and pointing a thumb at him and Tote. "Get up!" He demanded.

"Hey hey!" Slow Poke interupted, his hands in the air in submission. "That's cool, chief. You're the boss."

High Jump nodded. "Yeah, and don't you forget it." He cast a glance over the soldiers and motioned for them to join him. His optics caught those of Ironworks. "Hey!" He called, loudly banging his fist on a workbench and recapturing Ironworks' attention. "You taking' a break or something?" He demanded. "Come on! We need that rig ready to transport!"

Big Hauler smiled at Heavy Tread. "Heh heh," he laughed quietly, "civi's."

High Jump stepped up to Big Hauler. "Yeah," he agreed, loud enough for everyone in the warehouse to hear. "They're civi's alright." He prodded Big Hauler in the chest three times. "Just like you." He emphasised.

"Hey there, Cowboy," Slow Poke offered again, "chill."

It was Tote's turn to give his troops the once over. "Hey! We don't 'chill' - we are professionals. We do our job and you do yours. You got that?" Big Hauler shrugged and nodded but said nothing.

"And what exactly is that?" High Jump asked. "You know what it is you are here to do?"

Big Hauler shrugged again. "We're here to kick to Decepticon butt!" he smiled confidently.

Without a pause, High Jump slapped Big Hauler firmly across the face. "Don't you ever sass me again, soldier!" He spat. "You got that?" Big Hauler shrugged again and looked at the floor a little dejectedly. High Jump took no pity and slapped him again over the back of his head. "I said 'you hear me'? You need me to rip you an new audio socket?" Big Hauler looked up quickly and assured him this was not necessary. High Jump shook his head. "Like I said..."

"Who here holds rank?" Tote interupted, stepping up to the rest of them.

Hydraulic looked at Mudslinger to a mutual shrug. "Me and Muds have the most experience, if that counts for anything." He explained. "But we are a unit; no one of us holds rank over the others."

"In that case you and 'Muds'," he cringed silently at the nickname, "can duke it out."

The two Autobot soldiers looked at each other again and shrugged. "I don't think..." Hydraulic began.

"You don't think?" High Jump interupted, "You don't think?" He repeated. "I don't want some brain-dead bucket-head out there not thinking I guess that makes you in charge, Mudslinger."

"Hey!" Heavy Tread objected. "We don't..."

"Can it, lead breath!" High Jump spat. "I am really not in the mood." He turned to face Mudslinger and jerked his neck in the direction of the console. "Mudslinger," he called, "let's go." He walked over to Tote and took their seats. Tote nodded as Mudslinger stood in a respectful stance and offered him a seat too.

Tote and High Jump explained their mission, the location, the route to and from the construction site and everything they would need to know. Mudslinger said nothing, but simply took in the information. "So," Mudslinger started finally, "how does this thing go together?" He asked, looking over at the G1750.

High Jump shook his head. "Not important."

"You are here in a military support capacity only." Tote explained. "Leave the construction to us."

Mudslinger nodded and there was a short silence. "You don't want us here, do you?" He observed. "I mean, this isn't just you laying down the ground rules, is it? You genuinely would prefer us not to be here. I'm not stupid." He looked at High Jump. "I know that and I don't blame you." He glanced over at his teammates. "I mean, just look at them."

High Jump followed Mudslinger's gaze at the rabble. "Hey!" He called. "Haven't you got something better to be doing?" He asked.

"Yeah," Tote added, "can't you polish your guns?" He called before returning to face High Jump and Mudslinger. "Or whatever it is you do." He muttered. He looked up at Mudslinger. "Nothing personal, but I don't think this is the time or place for you guys to be involved." Mudslinger nodded. At around this time, Powertrain informed them they had finished their work on the rig and they were ready for tonight's mission. "Okay, thanks Powertrain." He returned his attention to Mudslinger again. "You know where you have to be?"

Mudslinger glanced instinctively at the console and the display of the areas his team had to control. "Yeah." He nodded.

"Cool." High Jump finished, and nodded at the rest of his patrol. "You'd better get your team ready then get some rest. Tonight's going to be a big'un." Mudslinger stood up and walked over to the other trucks and began to relay his orders. High Jump leant over to Tote. "They're going to screw things up." He muttered, shaking his head. Tote nodded but said nothing. "And someone's going to get hurt." High Jump continued.

Tote nodded in defeat again. "I know."

They stood in silence for a moment. "We should be doing this alone." High Jump commented. Tote's continued nod spoke volumes. "They're going to spot us a hundred miles away."

"I know." Tote agreed. "I know."

"I mean," High Jump continued to feel sorry for himself, "how many times has it been? You, me, Sidetrack and Flak - that's all we ask. We're practically a patrol ourselves!" Tote smirked. This was one statement he did not agree with. Flak and Sidetrack may have provided military support for them in the past, but they were well and truly moulded into the Battle Patrol with Sunrunner and Big Shot. "So what can we do?" High Jump asked.

"There's nothing we can do." Tote replied reluctantly. "Countdown wants these guys to get some rookie experience under their belts, all of them."

An evil grin dared to creep across High Jump's face. "Well, there is."

"Is what?" Tote asked.

"There is something we can do." High Jump smiled and looked at Tote whose mouth opened for a second before closing in silence. He knew what High Jump meant. He did not need to fill in the blanks. "Bright and early?" High Jump asked.

Tote nodded and looked over at the Monster Trucks who were already squabbling amongst themselves. "Bright and early."

--

CHAPTER 4

"Countdown is going to be pissed!" Tote called to High Jump as they raced across the Forlan Delta at breakneck speed, each laden with around one quarter of the building materials of the G1750, bouncing around their cargo holds as they careered over the rough ground.

"Yeah?" High Jump asked as his wheels temporarily lifted from the ground before crashing heavily on the surface once more. "Well screw him. This is not the mission to break in seven rookies."

Tote agreed, but was more concerned than his partner about Countdown's forthcoming take on their actions. The two Autobots had waited until the last of their support crew had entered their dormant shutdown mode before springing to life. The plan had been to catch as much shutdown as possible before leaving under the cover of darkness seven hours later, but Tote and High Jump had no intention of waiting that long. Their escort resting, they had loaded up as much of their equipment as possible and took off.

The Forlan Delta was a near-inhospitable wasteland, home only to the brave, desolate or insane. Littered with landmines and other automated drone weaponry, it was out-of-bounds for all that could respect its history; those who could not respect the battlefield often became an eternal monument. The Forlan Delta had been occupied, reoccupied and systematically destroyed through a series of wars and skirmishes for control of its precious mines. However, its prize was no longer considered worth the risk of its peril. Many an-unsuspecting robot had fallen here trying to take a short cut through its midst, unaware that the thousand-year-old weaponry from the last conflict remained primed and could re-arm itself in seconds. Aircraft had been shot down, vehicles had been destroyed and robots were seen scattered over the ground, their limbs rarely in the vicinity of the bodies.

Tote and High Jump respected this place. They were fully aware of the risks of straying from the paths. Not that the paths were found on any map, just that they had crossed this dangerous location on many an occasion and over the centuries and had formed a mental route or two through which they could cross unscathed. They knew this place like the back of their tyres.

Presently, the familiar sight of the Krion bridge appeared, a war-damaged but structurally sound icon signalling the re-entry into civilisation once more. It was always a welcome sight and though the far side of the bridge was undisputed Decepticon territory, it was more homely than the Delta and its ghosts of fallen soldiers and civilians alike. Under normal circumstances, as per the plan, they would have entered at the stroke of nightfall, but this was an altogether different game. Away from the smog of the Front Line, it was still bright and well-lit, the summer evening sun beating down on the road trying its best to inspire some sort of reflective glare off their dusty vehicle forms.

The bridge served as a checkpoint or border crossing, and although it was never manned it was in a precarious position and had been booby-trapped so served its purpose. They knew the bridge too though and were able to cross it and into Drust, pulling up beside a civilian building of some description to rest for a short moment. "That was the easy part." Tote whispered. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." High Jump replied. But he knew as well as Tote did that straying into enemy territory like this was dangerous. They were tired and exposed, but their priority was to get the equipment installed, or the half they had at the moment and get back to the warehouse as soon as possible. It was already too late, of course, to get back before the others awoke, but perhaps they could then at least persuade them now of their redundancy. They had no time to rest and pressed on, albeit at a slower pace to avoid Decepticon patrols and any civilian attention.

They exited the small town and reached the site of proposed construction of their equipment. Silently they unloaded and scavenged for leftover building material to help serve as camoflage. They worked fast, but this was them at their best. Under pressure and to a tight schedule, and when their construction equipment was as complete as it could be, they took a step back for a second and gave each other a satisfied nod. Without pausing for rest, the duo agreed it was safe to leave and reverted back into their truck forms to head back across the Delta and back to the Autobots. Darkness was setting in and they both knew they would be waking any time now.

Such was their partnership and their mutual ability to communicate without comminicating, it was not until they were back in the Delta that they finally uttered another word. "Never mind Countdown," Tote recalled, "Slow Poke's going to be pissed." He suggested as they bounced and revved their way over the familiar obsticles once more.

"Yeah?" asked High Jump with a taste of deja vu. "Well screw him. If Groundshaker wants that rig up and running as soon as possible, and if that means bending the rules, then I say we bend 'em." He knew Tote would agree and he did.

A few hours later the Autobots returned to safer ground in the extremities of Autobot-held terrain. They soon pulled up to the warehouse, ready to face a verbal onslaught from the rookies they had left behind. They stopped and transformed. "After you." Tote offered with a slight hand gesture.

High Jump nodded with an awkward smile. This was going look bad. He stepped inside. "Hello?" He called out casting a glance left and right. Tote walked in behind him. "Is anybot here?"

Ironworks' head appeard from behind a console. "Where the frag have you been?"

High Jump shrugged. "Just been out doing our job." He remarked casually, walking over and taking a seat. "Where is everyone?" He asked taking a look around the empty warehouse.

"Come to think of it," Tote added, "where's the rest of the equipment?"

Ironworks shook his head. "This is so screwed up." He sighed. "They took it."

Tote and High Jump looked at each other. "Who?" asked Tote;

"They did." Ironworks replied with a finger of gesticulation in the direction of the Decepticon territory they had just returned from. "The trucks. All of them." He sighed. "Mudslinger and Powertrain went out to look for you guys. All of them did. They split into twos. I stayed here in case you tried to communicate. But I couldn't. This equipment - none of it works! It's slagged - all of it!" He blasted, smacking the microphone off the console. "But it didn't work out that way. The moment Mudslinger and Powertrain were out of the door, the rest of the Monster Trucks doubled back and took the equipment." Ironworks shook his head. "Told me to wait here, that they could take the remainder of the unit themselves."

Ironworks' voice trailed off as he informed them that he tried to stop them. High Jump's optics glanced at Tote, asking him the same question Tote was thinking. "They took it to Drust?" Tote asked. Ironworks nodded before High Jump took to his feet, turning on his heel and slammed his fist down on the nearest console, cursing them for smelt-slaggers. "Where are Mudslinger and Powertrain now?" Tote asked.

Ironworks shrugged. "I don't know."

High Jump turned back. "Well, when did they go?"

Ironworks shrugged again. "I don't know." He repeated. "Three hours ago." He estimated. "Four maybe."

Tote sat down and leant forward, tapping his mouth with his hand like he always did when he was thinking. He stopped as he came to a conclusion. "We're slagged." He summarised his thoughts. High Jump sat down again. "Which way did they go?" Tote asked.

Ironworks shrugged for a third time. "I don't know which way they went." He explained. "They didn't say which way way they went." He emphasised, his voice getting noticeably louder. "They just went. Okay?" He spat standing up and stepping away from the consoles for a moment. High Jump and Tote looked at each other as if enganged in telepathy. Tote nodded. "Look guys," Ironworks continued, turning to face them again, "I'm sorry, but no-one tells me anything."

High Jump opened his mouth to speak but was cut short by Mudslinger who stormed into the warehouse. "I can't find..." he began. "Hey!" He demanded, stomping over to the three Autobots. "Where the hell have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you?" He looked over at Ironworks. "And you," he pointed, "you were supposed to tell us when you'd found them, save us driving around for miles on end. How long you guys been sat here with your thumbs up your tailpipes? Huh?"

"You were supposed to check in with me every hour!" Ironworks countered, a little reservedly.

"Doesn't matter!" Tote interupted.

High Jump nodded. "If either of you had bothered to try properly to get in touch," he remarked, bending down and scooping the microphone from the floor and placing it back on the console, "you would have realised the transmitter in the area is dead." He recalled the conversation with Countdown about recent Decepticon activity and the reason behind their mission in the first place. "We have no communication, but there's nothing wrong with the equipment." He looked at Ironworks. "I would have thought at least you would have figured this out." He suggested of Ironworks the supposed communication specialist.

They stood in silence for a moment. "So where the hell are the others?" Mudslinger demanded.

Tote shook his head. "I'm afraid you've been smelted by your teammates." Mudslinger's optics widened.

"Yeah," High Jump echoed, "you've been doused in slag and hung out to dry." Mudslinger clenched his fists but said nothing. "They ditched you."

"Hey," Ironworks broke the momentary silence, "where's Powertrain?"

"I'm right here!" called a silhouette from the doorway, his one leg crossed in front of the other and leaning against the doorframe. "I would have joined you sooner," he explained casually, "but I figured that arguing wouldn't solve anything. So I let you finish your little squabble." He mocked with an elegant wave of a finger. "You have finished, haven't you?" Mudslinger and Ironworks instinctively looked at the floor, their heads dancing a little side to side ashamed by Powertain's true and diplomatic assessment of the situation. "Now, will someone please tell me straight what it is we're going to do?"

High Jump looked at Tote, who nodded. "Sure," High Jump answered, "we're going off road."

--

CHAPTER 5

"This is suicide!" Ironworks screamed from the rear of the train of vehicles that weaved through the Forlan Delta. "There's a reason this place is out of bounds!" Tote, High Jump and the others ignored the protests and concentrated on sticking to the route. As they had explained, the Trucks must have taken the long route to Drust, the way they had planned to go, the safer way via the highway before sneaking through the checkpoint at the far side of town. Like before, crossing the delta would save several hours and they aimed to cut them off before they reached their target.

"You're okay with us." Tote reassured him. "Just follow us and don't drive anywhere you're not supposed to." That was easier said than done as the night sky set in. The Autobots tried to coax some illumination by the use of their dimmed headlights, but eager not to alert the Decepticons it was important they kept light to a minimum. Of course, each Autobot was equipped with infra-red and thermal sensors to aid their navigation, but their use was restricted owing to their high energy consumption and ease of detection. This ride was really more of a touchy-feely leap of faith for Mudslinger, Powertrain and Ironworks.

"You know," High Jump called from the front of the convoy, "they say that every night the sparks of fallen 'Cons rise from the dirt." He explained. "They say that they try to guide you from the paths and into the minefields so that your spark can join theirs for eternity." Tote said nothing but smiled internally. "They say," he continued stressing the word 'they', "that if you listen carefully you can still hear the sounds of these lost sparks, looking for redemption, perhaps even for companionship."

"Yeah," Tote taunted with a laugh, "you want to join the Banshees?"

"Forever?" High Jump finished.

"Hey!" Ironworks called. "Enough!" The wastelands of the Forlan Delta at night was creeping him out enough without High Jump's ghost stories. He was struggling with the pace of driving so fast over rubble, his tyres barely under his own control and weaving inches from the drone weapons and landmines of yesteryear. Powertrain too was finding the drive hard-going too but was a little surprised to find it not so difficult as he had expected. Of course, the off-road terrain would have been near-impossible to negotiate had he been laden with the G1750 amplification equipment, but with empty cargo holds was making good progress. Mudslinger on the other hand was as close to enjoying himself as he could be. Revving over high dunes of battle debris and crashing down on the other side at speed with little or no margin for error gave him a rush as his fuel lines burned his higher grade energon reserves to cope with the extra demands. He even forgot his fued with his fellow Monster Trucks, temporarily at least.

They continued in silence for a while before High Jump spoke up once more. "See that path up ahead?" He asked, referring to the inviting beginings of a road. "Whatever you do don't go over it!"

"Yeah," Tote added, briefly flashing his lights into the gloom "and you see that robot over there?"

"No." Powertrain called, answering for the trio of Autobots in the Delta for the first time.

"Exactly." High Jump explained. "That robot you can't see was the last one to try to take that route." He lied.

"And he got vapourised." Tote revealed.

High Jump laughed. "Nothing left of him." He concluded.

"Hey!" Ironworks shouted once more. "I said enough! Are you deliberately trying to freak me out?"

"Who died and put you in charge?" Mudslinger spat. "Lighten up and and enjoy the ride!"

"At least if I were in charge my teammates wouldn't desert me." Ironworks muttered to himself referring to the absent Monster Truck Patrol. Tote sensed another possible confrontation coming out of nothing and took charge once more with a serious tone.

"We're coming to the Krion bridge." He pointed out. "We'd better cut the chatter and concentrate. Remember, this is Decepticon territory we're straying into and we are all fair game to be captured."

"Captured?" Mudslinger asked. He was used to the kill-or-be-killed mentality found in the cross-faction lawlessness of the Front Line. For all the power of the Irongate Protocol, the official rules of Cybertronian warfare, the Warrior Code (its traditional name by which it was more commonly known) was rarely upheld. It was simply easier to execute a cowering enemy caught weaponless in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had done it himself on many occasions and would expect nothing else from his enemies. Tote explained that things were different here in the murky world of undercover espionage and beyond-enemy-lines intelligence gathering.

"It's not like the Front Line." Tote revealed. "Here it is more important to know, not so much what your enemies know about your enemies, but what your enemies know about you."

"Capture first, interrogate later." High Jump added. "Filter through all the data later and if it turns out they are of no use-"

"Then you execute them?" Mudslinger laughed.

"No!" Tote laughed back. "Well sometimes yes, but it doesn't tend to work that way."

"Spies are usually kept for bargaining purposes." High Jump explained.

"Yeah," Tote added, "to trade for other spies that have been captured.

Mudslinger thought about this for a moment. "So have you guys ever been captured?"

"Hell yeah!" High Jump admitted, almost with pride. "But I always escape; I've never been traded." He paused for a moment. "Unlike Tote..."

"Frag you, High Jump!" Tote spat. "I would have escaped if they hadn't-"

"Could-a would-a should-a." High Jump laughed. "Point is you got traded - for Whisper if my memory serves me."

"The point is," Tote stressed, returning to the subject at hand, "we are about to hop the border so keep your optics and audio sensors alert."

High Jump reiterated the need for serious professionalism from now on. "That's right. This isn't a game." He reminded them. "We've got four AWOL Autobots gunning around Decepticon territory thinking they know how to play spy." He explained before focusing his attention on Mudslinger. "Mudslinger, I know you want to kick the frag out of the them, believe me - I do too." High Jump confessed.

"Yeah," Tote echoed, "but remember, now is not the time or place."

"Exactly," High Jump concurred. "Wait 'til we are all back in Autobot territory." He finished. "Then we can rip them to pieces from the safety of our own home!"

The Krion bridge had been mined and booby-trapped by the Decepticons, but not destroyed simply because there may have been a time they wanted to reopen it. The idea was that all that would be needed to be done to reopen the bridge in an emergency would be to remove the mines and traps. However, over eons of fighting, the records relating to the bridge's status had long since been lost rendering it useless for Decepticon mass transit. Ironically, Tote and High Jump, the very Autobots (amongst others) the bridge had been rigged to deter, were probably the two robots on the planet with best knowledge of where these hazards lay.

The five vehicles transformed into their robot modes and began the delicate walk over the bridge, or rather through it. The bridge surface, not only offered little cover from Decepticon or civilian patrols in the Decepticon city on its other side, but was littered with surface mines. Instead, the Autobots crossed the Krion canyon via the bridge's underside, swinging and shimmying from girder to girder through the lattice support structure. Tote invited his new companions not to look down into the deep gorge that dropped into the inky gloom below them and after a couple of edgy moments the quintet landed back on their feet at the far side.

Ironworks' sigh of relief was audible and Tote gave him a friendly and reassuring slap on the back. "Congratulations." He whispered. "You are now in Decepticon territory." Tote smiled, although they were not the words of comfort he craved.

High Jump nodded. "But don't worry, this place is pretty much civilian only." He glanced around before transforming into his vehicle form. "You'll be okay with us."

"Now," Tote concluded as he transformed, "let's find the Monster Trucks and our missing cargo."

The Autobots left their civilian partners and drove along the road through the small town and towards the outskirts of Drust, keeping their optics alert for Decepticon patrols. They reached the join in the road where their short cut met the path of their original plan, a short distance from the site of the constructed G1750. They adopted a confident stance of semi-disguise (not actively hiding, but not drawing attention to themselves either) and ignored the civilians and other minor Decepticon presence in the area. Drust was so far from the real battles on the Front Line, Decepticon activity in the area was usually kept to a minimum. Provided they gave them no reason to suspect they were anything other than civilian, they were unlikely to be bothered. Indeed, they covered the last few miles to the construction site with major incident. The Trucks, however, were nowhere to be seen.

"Looks like they didn't make it here yet." High Jump stated the obvious, transforming into his robot form.

"Or," Tote offered an alternative, "perhaps they didn't make it anywhere." He glanced back up the road. "I guess our best bet is to go back up the road and try to intercept them coming this way."

High Jump nodded. "Powertrain, you and Ironworks stay here." He ordered, despite Ironworks' visible distress. He told them to make a start on constructing the G1750 and promised to return as soon as possible. "You'll be fine." He reminded them. "Remember, you're civilians, okay? Don't give the 'Cons any reason to bother you and they won't." He looked over at Mudslinger. "You cover them, okay?" he finished and nodded to Tote. "You come with me. We'll see if we can't find our idiot friends."

The Autobot duo headed back along the highway towards the other side of town and even managed an internal snicker or two as an unsuspecting Decepticon patrol vehicle drove right by them. They maintained their casual stance and acted as though civilian and the Decepticon had passed by. As they approached the border with no sign of the Autobots they checked their internal chronomoters. By now they would have expected the rest of the Monster Trucks to have arrived if they had a four hour head start, albeit on the slower, longer route. They should have at least crossed the border into Decepticon territory by now. Something had to have gone wrong.

It had.

--

CHAPTER 6

Slow Poke stood atop the three bodies, their chests smoking from recent shots. "Oh shoot." He whispered to himself, his finger still wrapped around the trigger of his weapon. He glanced down at the three Decepticon border guards charged with overseeing the security of the border and stopping Autobots like the Monster Truck Patrol from entering. "Oh shoot." He repeated.

"Are they dead?" asked Heavy Tread taking a ginger step or two over to the bodies. Slow Poke said nothing and did nothing, save to interupt Heavy Tread's repetition with a short, deliberate nod. Hydraulic stepped over, his head glancing left and right, pistol held to his chest and fingers ready to respond to enemy reactions.

"Clean kills guys." He assessed with a nod. "Good job. Just don't think about it too much."

"What are we going to do?" asked Slow Poke. "We can't just leave them here."

"Hey guys!" Big Hauler called loudly from across the other side of the street. "A little urgency?" He stood, quaking a little, in his robot form pointing a rifle at the small queue of civilian traffic waiting at the checkpoint. He returned his attention to them. "Don't move!" He reminded them as one truck transformed into his robot form. "Get back in your vehicle mode!" He demanded. "I'll shoot!"

"We have to go!" Hydraulic explained as the civilian returned to his truck form. "Come on!" A few more vehicles pulled up and joined the queue of traffic. "High Jump and Tote are going to be so slagged off with us!"

Big Hauler shook his head as the recent additions to the queue transformed. "Uh-er, High Jump and Tote are already here!"

"Oh shoot." Slow Poke spat to himself for a final time, looking up at the trio of Autobots running over to the scene. "Tote!" He stammered. "It's not what it looks-"

"It's three dead civilians!" High Jump spat. "There's nothing else it can look like!"

"What the frag happened here?" Tote demanded, glancing back at the nervous queue of traffic. "Who who the hell are these guys?"

Big Hauler shrugged. "They're just here to cross the border."

High Jump and Tote looked at each other for a second. "Well let them cross!" Tote shouted.

"Yeah!" High Jump echoed loud enough for the cilivians under Big Hauler's weapon to hear. "They know that if they even think to utter a single word about this to anyone they are dead already." He stared hard at the civilians in the queue. "You understand?"

No-one in the queue moved. "You heard what he said." Tote roared. "Beat it!" He demanded, kicking the vehicle at the rear of the train of traffic. With a cloud of tyre smoke, the five or so cars and trucks squealed away and over the border and into the Neutral territories beyond. "What happened here?" Tote asked again.

The Monster Trucks took their turns to summarise the events. They had arrived, as they explained, in convoy, and as per the original plan. "We handed over our fake data cards," Hydraulic explained referring to the fake border-crossing documentation, "and things should have been fine but they wanted to search us."

"I don't know why." Slow Poke added. "They had no right-" He interupted himself as he saw High Jump's reaction. "They knew we-"

"They knew you were fraggin' Autobots?" High Jump blasted. "God! You figure that out yourself? You want a freakin' medal?" High Jump shook his head angrily. The plan, the original plan at least, was for the equipment to be stowed away in Powertrain and Ironworks, who, as a couple of hauliers, could have got away with smuggling the equipment through. The Monster Trucks were not supposed to have used the fake passes. He looked down at the corpses. Clearly the Decepticon border patrol officers had seen them for the soldiers they were and asked too many arkward questions. "So you killed them? Or did they die all by themselves?"

Slow Poke's open mouth closed and he looked to Hydraulic for support. "I told them to use stuns." Hyrdraulic tried to defend their predicament. "I-"

"I thought it was on stun." Slow Poke concurred. "I-"

"Does this look like 'stun' to you?" High Jump screamed, picking up one of the bodies and throwing it disrespectfully at Slow Poke. "Huh?"

"Look!" Heavy Tread stepped in, trying to show some authority and reason to the situation. "We're Autobot soldiers. We kill Decepticon soldiers. It's what we do."

Tote stood aghast for a moment, his disgust clear over his face. "These guys aren't soldiers!" He explained. "These guys weren't soldiers." Tote corrected himself with a change in tense. "They work the fragging border! They check for smugglers and deal with immigration." He looked down at one of the dead Decepticons. "If they were real soldiers they would be out there somewhere," he pointed into the distance, "shooting soldiers like you! Not stuck here in some deadbeat job searching cargo holds. Primus!"

"They shot me first." Slow Poke defended himself. Tote stepped over to the Autobot and examined his body where he claimed to have been hit.

"What? This?" He asked in disbelied, tracing his finger over a small wound. "This little graze? This nick? God! What are you? A soldier or a, or a-" Tote shook his head, his voice trailing off as he failed to think of a suitable insult. "They don't even have armour-penetrating weaponry. This stuff," he kicked the downed Decepticon civilian's pistol, "this stuff is nothing! You didn't have to kill them!" There was a short pause.

"So what are we going to do?" Hydraulic asked finally, eager not to dwell and to move on.

"You still have the cargo?" asked High Jump, a little calmer and taking a second to glance at Tote. "Tell me you still-"

"Yeah." Big Hauler interupted. "We have it." He tapped the large leg compartment where his portion of the G1750 amplifier was stowed. A slight look of relief exposed itself over High Jump's face.

"Okay." He calmed further. "You guys, get this stuff out of here. Rendez-vous with Mudslinger and the civi's and get that amplifier built."

"Yeah," Tote added, "we'll see if we can sort this mess out." He looked at High Jump. "You never know, we might be able to salvage something out of this. Maybe it'll give us a chance to sabotage their borders defenses." High Jump nodded.

Slow Poke looked at Big Hauler. "Er, you better be quick though," he pointed out, "I think they may have called in for backup."

High Jump and Tote looked at each other. "You think?" Tote asked sternly.

"Okay." Slow Poke refined his answer. "They called in for backup." The anger returned to the faces of the Autobot spies. "And another thing." He added as if the situation could possibly be any worse. "I can't transform. This 'nick'," he pointed at the damage he sustained to his chest, "must have damaged my transformation module. I-"

"Great!" High Jump spat, kicking one of the dead Decepticons' pistols in anger. "Stuck here in the middle of 'Con territory, the oil of three civilians on hand and rook of Decepticon backup on the way and what do we have to show for our troubles? The only non-transforming Transformer in a thousand miles. That's just brilliant." He mocked. "Anything else you want to tell us about? Fried your brain? Broke a limb? Perhaps even a bad case of rust? Huh?" Tote motioned for Slow Poke to lie down and produced his set of tools as High Jump continued to list. "Anything else to confess? Maybe you want to admit to firing a nuke at Iacon or that you accidentally poisoned the Autobots' energon supply while you're at it? Talk about a bad news day-"

"That's enough, High Jump." Tote insisted as assessed the damage. "Go and see what you can find in the border office." High Jump stomped off in anger as Tote finally began to realise the damage the soldier had taken was more serious than he had ordinally thought. As he began his work on his injured colleague, High Jump scoured the small office to the side of the gatehouse looking for any intelligence he could find.

After a minute or so examining the consoles he came accross the logs that verified the call for backup. But in addition there was more information that caught his optics. A heavily encrypted file had been sent to the border guards that he could not decypher. As each second passed, High Jump became more and more aware that the backup could arrive in the next one. "Damn it!" He cussed as he tried and failed to create a copy of the data. With one last check of his chronometer, he sprinted out of the room. "Tote!" He called. "They made the call; we need to roll - A-SAP."

"Okay, okay!" Tote agreed. "Give me a hand!" The two Autobots looked at their injured soldier. "This is going to hurt." He warned, before the two of them physically manhandled Slow Poke through a manual transformation, forcing gears and joints through motions they were not supposed to make. A loud crack pierced the air but finally whatever was impeding Slow Poke gave way and he completed his painful transformation into his truck form. "Slow Poke - go, go, go!" Tote ordered, "Get out of here. The Decepticons could be here any minute and we need that cargo with the others."

The Monster Truck barely moved. "Come on!" High Jump persisted. "Today!"

"I'm trying!" Slow Poke protested. "I can't engage-" he paused as a cracking sound shattered the night-time air. "Ah, damn it!" Slow Poke jerked forwards with a painful jump but his engine finally fired. But the motion was slow and he revealed that his gearbox was damaged. High Jump transformed into his vehicle form and released the small winch mechanism from the rear. Though it was not fully designed for hauling vehicles the size of Slow Poke, it was their best option.

"Hook me up!" he called to Tote. "I'll drag us out of here." High Jump suggested. "See if you can get that data off the console." With the whine of two over-working engines, the train of High Jump and Slow Poke began to gather some momentum and moved off. But barely were they leaving the entrance to the border crossing when they saw four sets of headlights speeding towards them. "Oh shoot!" He whispered to himself and cut his engine.

The two Autobots took a sharp turn off the road and slid behind a small abandoned building before transforming. Slow Poke grimaced as he held back the pain from his transformation damage and squatted behind High Jump, their weapons in hand. High Jump glanced up the road towards the border office again. Tote must have seen the lights and disappeared from view.

Tote had found the wall of a small building of his own to hide behind. He peered into the darkness at the strong contrast of lights that neared. Even without switching to his infrared vision mode, he could recognise each set, so often had he encountered them in the past. The four Decepticon members of the Sports Car Patrol were indeed the backup the civilian Decpticons had called for before being killed by Slow Poke or whoever it was that fired the killing shots. By now he could even hear the roar of their engines as they closed in.

Separated by a short distance and unbeknown to each other, High Jump and Tote subconsciously whispered to each other to remain hidden. But as the Sports Cars closed in further Tote saw that something had already caught the attention of Detour, the yellow Decepticon racer at the front of the pack. His direction had deviated a little and was now headed straight for High Jump. Tote sighed. He knew what was coming next; they had been in this situation before and he knew High Jump had done - and would continue to do - the same for him in opposing situations.

Tote leapt into his vehicle form and skidded across the road ahead of the Decepticons. It was a simple ploy to redivert their attention and it worked. The four Decepticons screamed in unison as they reported their observation and raced right by High Jump and Slow Poke and towards Tote. The inevitable look of surprise on Slow Poke's face appeared, but High Jump raised a warning finger informing the soldier to stay quiet. The grey Autobot peered from behind the wall to see the Decepticons closing in on Tote. He was as good as captured already.

High Jump let out a sigh. Like Tote, he knew this was coming. Whatever it was Tote had seen, he had seen fit to divert their attention. The chase was short and almost immediately Tote was surrounded and brought to a halt. "Transform, Autobot!" Detour demanded, taking to his robot form himself. Tote complied and soon all five robots were stood together, the Decepticons each armed with a pistol Blackjack held Tote in a headlock while Roadhugger applied energon cuffs to his wrists that bound them behind his back. With Tote immobolised, Detour took his sights off the Autobot and peered into the night gloom. "That's one!" He called out into the night for the benefit of High Jump. "And we know that means you're here too High Jump, wherever you are!"

"Nah," Tote mocked. "We got divorced. We work alone now." Hyperdrive hit Tote on the back of the head with the butt of his pistol taking him by suprise. Tote dropped to his knees, his neck recoiling at the surprise pain. Detour gave Hyperdrive a nod of thanks for getting Tote to be quiet.

"You've got about thirty seconds before I shoot him." Detour called. Out of the corner of an optic, High Jump saw Slow Poke produce begin to raise his rifle. He shook his head. This was not the time for a fire-fight. There had been enough oil-shed for one night. They may have had the element of surprise, but even that was artificial as the Decepticons knew that High Jump must be in the area if they had caught Tote. They might have been able to take out one or perhaps two of the Decepticons and perhaps overpower the others, but not without Tote getting hurt first. And if anything happened to his partner because anyone, Autobot or otherwise, exercised his trigger finger, High Jump would see the remainder of their own lives would not be worth living. "I mean it!" Detour promised, returning his attention to the neighbourhood. "I'll kill him!"

"Don't do anything stupid, Slow Poke." High Jump whispered from his hiding place. He nodded. "Countdown needs this thing running as soon as possible. I'll draw them away. They're expecting me, not you. You get back to the rig and to finish up. Then," he paused for a second with a stern face, "then get the hell out of here." For a second their attention was taken by the sight of Detour kicking Tote in the side sending the groaning Autobot toppling over. High Jump turned his attention back to Slow Poke. "You got that? You get the rig running then get Powertrain, Ironworks and the Trucks out of here - no heroics." Slow Poke nodded again, but High Jump sensed his concern at this apparent and hypocritical act of self-sacrifise. "Don't worry about us." High Jump smiled. "We can take care of ourselves. We've been in worse positions before." Slow Poke nodded for a final. "I'm counting on you." High Jump finished. "And remember, Mudslinger's in charge."

"Autobot!" They heard Detour call. "I'm waiting! Or do you want me to send your friend back to Autobase in pieces?"

High Jump stood up from the shadows, his hands aloft and stepped forwards. "Well!" Detour called. "What do you know?" High Jump said nothing, but marched quickly away from the Slow Poke to maintain his cover as best as possible. Blackjack and Detour trained their weapons on High Jump as he headed for them in surrender. "Don't try anything." Detour warned. "Either of you!"

"Nice one." Tote mocked as the Decepticons cuffed High Jump in the same manner. "Now who's going to bust me out?" High Jump said nothing but continued his walk. He did not have to say as much, but he was sure his walk would help the Decepticons agree with their subconscious assumption that Tote and High Jump would have been unaccompanied.

Hyperdrive poked Tote in the back with his pistol, inviting him to stand up and start walking in the direction of the Decepticon installation some distance away. "Quiet Autobot!" He growled. "Nobody's busting anyone out of anywhere." Blackjack walked at the head of the marching robots, keeping an eye out, Roadhugger holding a similar position at the rear. "Getting a bit sloppy in your old age, eh?" Hyperdrive laughed with a nudge at Tote. The Autobots said nothing. "What were you doing out here?"

"I don't know." Tote smiled. "Just taking a vacation. I think my map's out of date. I never realised this was your turf." Hyperdrive smacked his pistol against the back of Tote's head again at the insolence.

"Forget it," Detour advised of Hyperdrive. "You won't get anything out of these. They're tighter-lipped than death itself." For years they had had their scrapes; Detour knew these Autobots and they knew him. Interrogation was not much of an option but revealed there may be an alternative use for them. However, so as not to disappoint his teammates, he promised to let them 'rough up' the Autobots a little along the way as it was going to be a long walk.

--

CHAPTER 7

Slow Poke emerged from his hiding place after Tote and High Jump left the area with their Decepticon captives. It was strange, so he noted, that they seemed rather disinterested in the rukus and more concerned with taking in their Autobot prize. The night-time road was quiet now, perhaps word having made it back to the civilian robots in the town that tonight was not a good night to be driving the streets after the border crossing shoot-out. Slow Poke threw his gearbox into some sort of driving mode and crawled painfully back towards the border office where High Jump and Tote had tried to access whatever data it was that had intrigued them. He scanned the abandoned console, trying avoid optical contact with the Decepticon officers he had killed minutes earlier. Satisfied he had absorbed as much information he could he transformed back into his truck mode and pulled from the scene, his damamged transmission struggling to maintain any sense of rhythm. He may have been just ten miles or so from the other Trucks, but it took him nearly an hour to finally pull up at their meeting point.

"Where the Hell have you been?" Mudslinger demanded, his angry robot form stomping over to Slow Poke. He transformed, but said nothing. Ironworks and Powertrain, who had been working on the amplification rig looked over and reminded them to keep their voices low. This was a covert operation after all and as far away from deeper Decepticon territory as they may have been, they were still in Decepticon territory and it would pay to remain both vigilant and discrete. Slow Poke unloaded his share of the equipment in silence. "Where's Tote and High Jump?" Mudslinger asked.

Slow Poke sighed and sat down. "I don't know." He admitted. "We screwed up."

"No slag, genius." Mudslinger retorted. "What happened?"

Slow Poke looked up at his acting commander. "The Sports Cars rocked up and captured them." Mudslinger's mouth dropped open. "Yeah, that's right." He repeated dejectedly. He explained what he saw and how first Tote had given himself up to draw the Sports Cars' attention away from where he had hidden, before High Jump surrendered too in order to keep them occupied while the G1750 was installed just a short distance away. "We were just mad that they left us back in the warehouse yesterday. We wanted to show we could help." He added, revealing their reasons for leaving without Powertrain, Ironworks and Mudslinger. He looked up at his acting team leader. "We knew you'd never go along with it." He shrugged. "But you were right; we were wrong. But can we move on and work out what the frag we are going to do about it?"

Powertrain walked over with a shrug. "Well, it's obvious." He observed. "We have to go and help them."

Slow Poke shook his head. "High Jump said not to worry and that they'd be okay." Powertrain's optics widened a little but said nothing. "'No heroics.'" Slow Poke quoted of High Jump. "He said we have to sort out the rig and get out of here." Hydraulic and Big Hauler looked at each other.

"The Hell with that!" Big Hauler spat. "We're going in there after them!"

Hydraulic nodded. "Yeah, it's the least we can do."

"There's more." Slow Poke admitted. "Something big's going down, Tote reckoned anyway." He explained. "There was some information they were trying to extract from the border office. Couldn't decypher it properly, but something's going down all the same." Slow Poke repeated.

"Something big?" Big Hauler nodded with a grin. "In that case definitely count me in." He beamed with bravado. "I want to kick some Decepticon butt!" Heavy Tread smiled and offered him a high-five of agreement. Slow Poke smiled a little uneasily. Killing Decepticon civilians so up-close and personal that the oil of his victims still stained his finish made him feel a little less ready. Mudslinger stepped in.

"First things first," he intervened, "we have to get this equipment running, otherwise this will all have been a waste of time." He looked over at Ironworks and Powertrain. "How long before we're up and running?" he asked.

Ironworks shrugged and passed a glance of his own to Powertrain. "A couple of hours or so," he forecast, "if we don't get any interuptions."

Mudslinger nodded and told his team to secure the area. "Hydraulic, you Big Hauler and Slow Poke set up a observation triangle. Don't let anyone or anything inside this region." He marked out an imaginary triangle in the air indicating a control zone with the construction site in the centre. As unlikely as it was that the Decepticons would even notice them given their new captives in Tote and High Jump, he still wanted to ensure the construction engineers could complete their work in safety. "Heavy Tread, I want you to climb that tower and give us some additional aerial cover."

"Hey!" Heavy Tread perked up. "You don't tell us what to do!" He objected.

Mudslinger prodded a thumb into his chest. "I'm in charge." He reminded them all. "What I say goes. You got that?"

Big Hauler spat a ball of waste fluid onto the ground but said nothing. "I don't care what High Jump said. He may have put you in charge," Heavy Tread continued, "but he doesn't pull rank 'round here. Countdown does. And he never said nothing about you being in charge."

"And that makes you a big fat nothing to me." Big Hauler added. "Ain't that right?" He turned his attention to Slow Poke, but he was not in the mood for confrontation and simply shrugged, but behind him Hydraulic offered a nod of agreement.

"Will you guys pipe-down?" Powertrain blurted out. "For Primus' sake! It doesn't matter who's in charge! Just do your freakin' job!

Heavy Tread smiled. "See?" he mocked. "That's how to take charge, Muds." He laughed. "You should take lessons from him."

"Yeah," Big Hauler added, "I'd sooner take orders from a damned civi than from you." He stressed with a sneer. Anger boiled the oil in his pipelines, but Mudslinger refused to rise to the bait. "What do you want us to do, boss?" He asked casually of Powertrain with a smile. The tall orange Autobot stood over next to Mudslinger.

"I want you to do exactly as he says." He announced, pointing at Mudslinger who looked a little surprised, before folding his arms with a self-satisified smile. "I want you to secure this area and leave us to complete our work in peace! We need to get this damned thing completed as soon as possible or did you forget that we are actually standing in Decepticon territory? I don't want another peep out of you rust-buckets!" Ironworks stood behind his partner and nodded.

Big Hauler stood open-mouthed for a second, not used to being spoken to so abruptly by civilians. "Come on," Hydraulic complied, placing a hand on Big Hauler's shoulder and turning him slightly, "let's go."

Big Hauler shifted his weight and slipped his shoulder from his teammate's hand. "Get your god-damned hands off me." He cussed quietly. The four Autobots left the area to set up their control zone.

Mudslinger stood over Powertrain and Ironworks who got back to their work, before muttering something about his teammates. "Hey!" Powertrained piped up. "That means you too, Mudslinger." Mudslinger rolled his optics and set about finding somewhere to hold up too.

--

CHAPTER 8 After couple of hours' walk or so Tote, High Jump and their Decepticon escort arrived at the temporary headquaters that had been constructed out of a converted civilian enclave. As the group came to a halt, Tote surveyed the building and smiled. He had been here many times before, sometimes as a captive, sometimes as a spy. Hyperdrive walked around the Autobots and gave Tote a light kick in the side. "So, what should we do with them now?" he asked.

Blackjack looked at them too. "We should kill them." He suggested.

Detour nodded. "Yes, we should kill them. But Skyhopper needs POWs for negotiating purposes. Flattop is in the area tomorrow." He explained with a jerk of his shoulder in the direction of the nearest airfield. "He can transport them to Polyhex."

Blackjack returned his attention to the Autobots. "Okay, put them in the holding cells for now then, I guess." He reconsidered.

"No!" Detour interupted, waving his finger in Blackjack's face. "No! Under no circumstances do we put these two together." He growled, his optics narrowing and glancing instinctively at the two Autobot captives.

Blackjack shrugged. "It's just for a day or so."

But Detour's objection was furtive, stepping up and staring directly into Blackjack's optics. "You put these two together for a minute or so," he stressed, "and you can be the one to explain to Skyhopper why he has no Autobots to trade for the Air Strike Patrol."

Tote and High Jump looked at each other and laughed. "You want to trade us for the Air Strike Patrol?" Tote laughed. The Decepticon espionage unit had been captured a week or so ago attempting to sabotage a secure Autobot installation.

"They'll bite your hand off with that offer." High Jump added. "Hell, they'd most probably release every last 'Con they have for either one of us!" Tote glanced at his partner and smiled with a nod of agreement. But the Autobots' ego and sense of self-worth was starting to rattle their captors.

"Don't be so sure of that, Autobot." Detour growled.

"Yeah," Tote laughed, "he's right, High Jump. Groundshaker would never negotiate for our release." He smiled. "He knows we'll just escape on our own anyway." Tote smirked and turned to face Detour. "Especially if this is the best the Decepticons can offer to gaurd us." He mocked. "I mean, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?" Detour's face dropped into an ugly smirk of disgust. Of all their past run-ins Tote usually got the better of him in some way. By now, he had heard enough from him. The yellow Decepticon stepped over to his prone aggressor and slapped him firmly across the face, nearly sending the Autobot toppling over again. Detour nodded in satisfaction and looked at Roadhugger.

"See, Tote?" High jumped snickered. "That's what you get for being rude to your host!"

Detour ignored the banter and told Roadhugger and Blackjack to put Tote in the basement holding cells. "One more thing," Detour added, nodding at Tote, "don't let him into your head; this one can talk his way from Polyhex to Iacon! Come on Hyperdrive, let's take this one to the tower." He suggested, turning his attention to his remaining companion. "That's about as far away from this one as we can get him." He explained, nodding briefly at Tote. Hyperdrive agreed and he and Detour each grabbed High Jump by an upper arm, manhandling him away.

"Woo-hoo!" High Jumped called excitedly as he disappeared from view. "I get the penthouse suite!" He laughed.

Blackjack and Roadhugger marched their Autobot captive along a corridor or two and down a flight of stairs into the basement. They reached a familiar door and Tote was pushed down the steps, Tote stumbling and struggling to stay upright. The heat from the temporary energy bonds that bound his wrists burned at his finish and the smell of uncleansed oil discharge greeted his odour receptors. The room was dark to one side where there was a series of three small holding cells and illuminated on the other by the surveillance monitors attached to the security consoles.

Tote was bundled into one cell and the familiar energon bars ignited as those around his wrists finally dissipated. He rubbed his aching hands and wrists a little. Other lesser 'Bots might have started to panic, to sit grimly counting the days before perhaps his Autobot colleagues might miss him and send a rescue party or at the very least try to broker a deal by releasing a Decepticon captive elsewhere. The sense of mental claustrophobia as the walls seemed to close in micro-second by micro-second might have troubled even Tote once. But not now. And instead of the feelings of dispair at the reality of the situation, that in all likelihood, no-one was coming and that no deal would come to fruition, that you were in all probability here to rot alone and that you would never see home again. Tote was alone, but he was in his element. He had been here before; this was all part of the game. To him, Tote was as good as home already.

All he had to do now was wait.

--

CHAPTER 9

Powertrain and Ironworks continued to erect the G1750 amplifier in the contruction site, all the while conscious they could be spotted by Decepticon patrols. Their disunited unit of support troops did little to offer any comfort. For Ironworks, it was easy to see they did not get on so well with each other. Big Hauler and Heavy Tread were braggarts with little or no real combat experience yet buoyed each other's bravado with mutual bouts of confidence. Slow Poke's ego had been crushed a little by whatever it was that had happened at the border, but nothing was crushing Mudslinger, quite the opposite. His clear detest of Big Hauler and Heavy Tread and their reciprocal feelings had been threatening to erupt since they clasped optics upon each other. Whatever their history, it had yet to emerge, but that was surely a matter of time.

Hydraulic seemed to have the only level head of the five. His combat experience matched that of Mudslinger, but he did not seem to have the baggage. Not that his history was whiter than white, Ironworks could be sure of that, but it certainly was not so tense as that of Mudslinger. It was an undesirable situation and for all their mockery, he longed for Tote and High Jump. Their experience and professionalism eclipsed that of their escort and while he may have felt unwanted in their presense, he at least felt safe.

A hand clasped itself around his shoulder sending him jumping two feet in the air. "Easy, Ironworks!" Powertrain smiled. "I've finished the construction; I'll help you with the electronics." Ironworks looked around at his partner who seemed far more at ease in Decepticon territory than him. The pair completed the electronics and presently reported to Mudslinger that the communication amplifier was finished.

"We should get out of here." Ironworks suggested once Mudslinger had gathered the rest of his troops from their observation points. Slow Poke shook his head.

"We have to help High Jump and Tote." He countered. "They risked their lives for us and this mission." Slow Poke looked to Powertrain for support. He shrugged.

"'No heroics.'" He replied, reminding them all of what Slow Poke had said. "Your words. Those guys know what they are doing."

"High Jump's words." Slow Poke corrected him. "I was just the messenger."

"Doesn't change anything." Mudslinger replied glancing at Ironworks who nodded in agreement. "They want us to leave, so we should leave."

"I agree." Ironworks added. "We've done our job, now let's get the Hell out of here."

"Well I say we stay." Big Hauler stepped up. "We should help them."

Mudslinger smiled. "Tough slag, Hauler; we're going." He made a motion to leave by transforming into his truck form alongside Powertrain and Ironworks. Big Hauler looked at Slow Poke and Hydraulic who shook their heads.

"Well, there's four of us and only three of you." He announced. "And we say we're staying."

Mudslinger transformed back into his robot form. "And I said too bad this ain't no democracy!" He spat, squaring up to Big Hauler. "We're leaving. Period." For a second Ironworks felt this was when it was all going to boil over.

Heavy Tread muttered something inaudible to Mudslinger and the others. He stepped over. "What did you say?"

Heavy Tread sighed. "I said you're a yellow-bellied paper-pusher." He smirked. "You ain't happy unless you're saying 'Yes sir! Yes sir!' to some over-paid bureaucrat back in Autobase."

"Yeah!" Big Hauler echoed. "Get a spine!" Ironworks diverted his optics momentarily and winced in anticipation.

"Guys!" Powertrain intervened, trying to get between Mudslinger and the others before the verbal assault became physical. "What is your problem?" He demanded. Mudslinger stared at Big Hauler who reciprocated but said nothing. Like Ironworks, Powertrain could sense there was some history that remained hidden from them, but as yet, no-one was about to divulge it.

Hydraulic stepped forward trying to offer the benefit of his experience. "Look guys, let's focus." Hydraulic offered. "We at least have the element of surprise." He explained. "They pinned the border guards on Tote and High Jump; they won't be expecting us."

"They told us to leave." Mudslinger insisted.

"They told us we were going to come here to build this damn thing together." Hydraulic reminded them. "But instead they took off on their own. This whole stinkin' mess wouldn't have happened if they had stuck to the plan."

"If you hadn't gotten yourself captured at the border-" Mudslinger persisted.

"Hey!" Powertrain shouted again, before lowering his voice. "Keep it down guys," he suggested, "it'll be morning soon and then this place will be crawling with 'Cons."

"Yeah," Slow Poke retorted. "civi 'Cons." He smirked.

"Yeah." Ironworks concurred sternly, angry at the contemptable use of the term 'civilian'. "Civi 'Cons, just like the ones you murdered." An uneasy silence dropped over the group.

"So," Powertrain concluded, "you coming?"

Hydraulic shook his head with stubborn resolve. "No. We're going in after them; it's just the Sports Car Patrol, after all."

"And we'll do it with your help or without it." Heavy Tread added, folding his arms in defiance.

Mudslinger and Powertrain looked at each other for a second or two. Powertrain shrugged at Mudslinger's silent question. "If we do this," Mudslinger began more calmly, "we do this my way."

Powertrain nodded. "We can't just go running in with all guns blazing. We-"

"What?" Ironworks blurted out. "What the Hell are you saying? We shouldn't be going in at all!"

"What I'm saying," Powertrain continued, "is that we form a plan and if we think we can pull it off, well then we'll see." He looked to Mudslinger and Hydraulic for support and gained a nod or two. "But until we have a solid plan, I'm not agreeing to anything."

Mudslinger thought about the comprimise for a moment. For whatever reason, the rest of his patrol seemed unwilling to accept his role as team leader, that much was obvious, but until they returned to Countdown as a unit, there was little he could do about it. Though part of him agreed with Ironworks that Decepticon territory was no place for civilians, he felt Powertrain's authorative tone seemed to offer the voice of reason in their hostile situation. He looked at Hydraulic whose mind had been occupied with similar thoughts. They exchanged a final nod. "Agreed." He concluded.

Ironworks' optics rolled so high they nearly fell from their sockets. He cussed to himself as he shook his head. "Okay." Powertrain finished. "First thing we do is get out here and find somewhere more remote to discuss this." He suggested. "Autobots, transform and roll out."

--

CHAPTER 10

The elevation platform drew to a halt and the doors opened. Hyperdrive stepped out into the corridor and motioned for High Jump to follow. Detour brought up the rear and pressed the corresponding button on the keypad to lock off the platform. No escaping that way. High Jump looked around the hallway. They were high up, probably fifty or more floors from ground level in the one-time civilian building that had been taken over by the Decepticons for military use. Though it was hard to judge optically as the light from the brightly lit corridor reflected off the windows separating them from the cool night sky, High Jump's altometer was functioning correctly and revealed his height accurately. Perhaps it was too much of a fall to jump straight out? Perhaps not.

"Move it!" Detour commanded from behind with a prod against the Autobot's back. "We've got a nice little room for you."

"And it's about as far away from Tote as we can get you." Hyperdrive continued. "And I hope you don't get scared of heights because this is the only view you'll get!"

High Jump laughed. "What's so funny, Autobot?" snapped Detour. High jump laughed again.

"I mean, come on!" He started. "You're going to put me up in an office block? How secure is that?"

Detour muttered something to himself before Hyperdrive answered for him. "No-one is going to find you here." Hyperdrive paused. "And besides," he continued, revealing a little more than was necessary, "the other holding cells are under repair and we need to put you somewhere." High Jump smiled to himself. It was him and Tote that had sneaked in and trashed the holding cells themselves some time ago. They had taken it upon themselves to vandalise them on the way out of the Decepticon base on an entirely different espionage mission. They wanted to make life difficult for the Decepticons should they, or anyone else, get captured. Of course, their wanton destruction was not as haphazard and random as it may have seemed to an onlooker; each move had been planned, or at least executed as if there had been a plan.

High Jump snapped back into reality again as Detour prodded him once more. He took a few more steps forward. Now was as good a time as any. With Hyperdrive picking up the pace and the end of the corridor in sight High Jump dropped to the floor with a loud clang. "Woah!" he cried as he thudded heavily onto the ground. He shook his head for a moment as if trying to regain his composure.

"High Jump?" asked Hyperdrive with a grin. "They should call you Trip Up."

High Jump shook his head again. "I believe that name is already taken." Bent over and shuffling himself onto his knees, he lifted his head up to face the two Decepticons. "You do realise why they call me High Jump, don't you?" He asked casually. "The powerful air compressors in my legs let me jump up at speed. A little stumble like doesn't hold me back."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get up!" Detour demanded, walking around him a little and giving him a kick in his side. High Jump smiled. This was almost too easy. He was practically telling them how he was going to escape, just that they were simply too blind to see. This was not the stumble he was talking about.

"'Get up?'" He asked. "Hell, I could just as easily jump up and fly right out that window! And you'd never see me again!" He laughed, tossing his head towards the window separating them all from a fifty storey drop. Detour and Hyperdrive took an instinctive glance at the window. This moment of indecision was the opportunity High Jump needed. It was all about misdirection and maintaining optic contact. Silently he ejected his winch mechanism. Normally used in his vehicle mode, in his robot form it folded neatly into his waist module. The hook landed quietly into his hands and although still bound together he could manipulate it into his closed fists.

"What? Do you think you can fly?" laughed Hyperdrive, stressing the final word of his sentence.

High Jump shook his head, careful not to reveal the hook. "Not really. I prefer to keep things down and dirty."

"Good," Hyperdrive sneered, "because I know I sure as hell can't fly," he grinned replacing the thumb that was pointing to his chest with a finger to point at High Jump, "and you are hardly in a position to take lessons."

"You can't fly?" he asked with a teasing smirk. "That's sort of what I was banking on." Detour glanced at Hyperdrive, who reciprocated. With speed and surprise High Jump rammed the sharp point of his hook nestled in his hands deep into Hyperdrive's leg and twisted. "See you later!" He spat, tipping to his side and activating the air compressors in his legs.

The thrust of the air blasted High Jump horizontally across the corridor, the reacting force blasting Detour the other way. With a shattering of glass that momentarily cvershadowed Hyperdrive's howl of pain, High Jump flew out of the window into fresh air as Detour smashed into the wall on the other side. The cable connecting High Jump to Hyperdrive via the hook embedded in his leg unravelled as the Autobot fell freefalling down the side of the building.

"My leg!" screamed Hyperdrive, grabbing at the hook. Detour rubbed his head as his senses returned to him. "My leg!" Hyperdrive repeated, trying to pull it from his limb. It was stuck like barbed wire in flesh and showed no chance of moving.

Until it became taught.

As the cable started to run out, High Jump had cut the mechanism to a halt and in an instant pulled to a painful halt, dangling some twenty levels from the ground. With an electrifying zip, the Autobot was flung into the window of a corridor far below the Decepticons and crashed inside, only to bounce back out. With a jolt Hyperdrive began skidding across the corridor, yanked along by High Jump's weight at the other end of the cable and began to dig in his heels in panic. "Don't let me fall!" He screamed as he slid towards the open gap, the tight cable threatening to pull him out of the building and rapidly in High Jump's direction. "Detour!"

Detour shook his head again quickly as his systems finally kicked back into life to see finally his blue companion writhing on the floor, with one hand groping at the side of the building and the other trying the prise off the hook that was starting to cut through the metallic skin of his leg. Detour leapt up and dived at his teammate. "Don't release it!" He ordered knowing full well that releasing the tow cable would effectively be to release the captive they were charged with escorting.

"Easy for you to say!" Hyperdrive spat. "You're not the one with a slagging hook tearing your leg off!"

Some distance below, High Jump had dropped down another storey or so and bounced once more at a window. Regaining his composure he turned faced the barrier, raised his legs and blasted a powerful burst of compressed air at the weakened pane. It shattered, sending him back out into the air once more. The Autobot swung back towards the building and with one final lunge he jumped inside, releasing a little more slack as he did. Taking to his feet and taking a quick glance up and down the new corridor he found himself in, he gave a tug on the cable.

By now Detour had a full grasp on the cable and Hyperdrive was pulling the hook from his leg. "Argh!" he screamed as a hydraulic piston ruptured spraying him and Detour with fluids. The grease made it all the more difficult for Detour to hold onto his prey and the tug of war between the Autobut and the Decepticon swung in High Jump's favour. High Jump leapt into transformation, the razor-sharp cable passing through between his arms, severing his shackles in two. In his truck mode, High Jump threw down the power and now it was Detour's turn to fear being pulled out of the building and freefalling to ground-level. With his winch mechanism now aided by the grunt of his engine, it was inevitable High Jump would win and as Detour's limbs slid tentatively close to the outside world, he let go. The cable and hook flew from his grasp and quickly ravelled itself around High Jump's winch once more as he careered down the corridor.

Detour sat dejectedly, a clenched hand thumping the ground in dismay as Hyperdrive clutched his leg. He knew it was probably already too late. High Jump was more slippery than an oil-covered lug nut; he would be well away by now.

--

CHAPTER 11

The seven Autobots crowded around the construction plans that Ironworks had unearthed for them. They had been holding out in a deserted former residential area on the outskirts of the Decepticon city of Drust for half an hour or so discussing their predicament. He pointed out that they were old and therefore most probably out of date. They were incomplete and ultimately insufficient for forming a basis of a plan they had no idea how to execute. Time after time the Monster Trucks made a suggestion and time after time either Ironworks or Powertrain would shake their heads and point out the holes in their ideas.

"We can break in through here." Slow Poke pointed at the screen and at the drainage system marked on the plans.

"It's probably made of nano-titano-carbon." Powertrain pointed out calmly. "You won't be able to get through there."

Slow Poke smiled. "We know what we're talking about here."

"Yeah," Heavy Tread added, "so why don't you just back off a little and let us figure out our plan."

Powertrain and Ironworks looked at each other a little surprised. "What part of nano-titano-carbon don't you understand?" Ironworks stammered in disbelief. "You can't break in there!" He repeated.

"Yeah?" asked Heavy Tread. "Well I've got about two tons of explosives that says we can."

Powertrain laughed. "Two tons?

"How about twenty tons?" Ironworks added with a smile.

"Hey!" Slow Poke stepped forward. "This stuff could get through six inches of sheet metal."

Ironworks shook his head. "But this stuff isn't sheet metal."

"It's a complex polymer." Powertrain explained. "Your explosives wouldn't get through one inch of this stuff."

Slow Poke shrugged. "We'll see." He smirked confidently. Ironworks and Powertrain looked once more at each other, their CPUs struggling to find the words to communicate with the other Autobots. "If we enter here," Slow Poke continued to formulate his plan with Heavy Tread and Big Hauler, "it'll bring us right out into the-"

"I'm telling you - you can't-" Ironworks interupted, taking a step forward. Heavy Tread turned to face Ironworks, his stern face cutting the civilian Autobot off mid-sentance.

"And I'm telling you - you should just back off, okay?" He suggested forcefully once more. Ironworks took a step back his mouth hanging open for a moment. He shrugged in defeat and looked to Powertrain for insipiration. He simply shook his head. He understood.

"Like I said," Slow Poke reminded the others and turning back to face the screen again, "this drain comes out right in the middle of the compound."

"And what are we going to do when we get there?" Mudslinger asked. "Pretend we're Decepticons and ask for directions?"

There was a silence for a second or two. All the Autobots, perhaps Mudslinger included, realised the his unfortunate choice of words. More than that, they knew that someone was going to pick up on it. Heavy Tread was the first to pounce. "Well," he dared, "you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Heavy Tread mumbled, just loud enough for Mudslinger to hear.

The powerful Autobot looked stunned for a moment, before taking a step forward towards Heavy Tread. "What did you say?" he asked calmly, but forcefully.

Heavy Tread smirked. "I said, ain't that just like you to side with the 'Cons," he growled, stepping forward and crossing his arms, "brother."

"You better watch what you say!" Mudslinger slammed, balling his fists and extending a warning finger in Heavy Tread's direction.

Heavy Tread's smirk was unrepentant. "I'll watch what I want to watch." He promised defiantly with a nod and a smile towards a couple of his teammates trying to encourage them. His smile was replaced by a face of seriousness as he stared back at Mudslinger, "And right now," he continued, poking his finger at Mudslinger's chest, "I'm watching a no good member of a dirty stinkin' race."

It was a blatant reference to Mudslinger's ugly past and his deliberation seemed to take an eternity. He was never a Decepticon, nor had he ever such aspirations. But way back, eons before the war, he and Greasepit had operated in an independant mining and haulage outfit, supplying fuel and raw materials for many of Cybertron's construction businesses. Both had become rich through their borderline legal operations, not to mention their over-the-border illegal ones. Allegations of theft and shady dealings were often swept away with the tons of contraband that flowed through their business every day. But when, for once, a corruption investigation failed to go the same way as all the previous and mysteriously inconclusive attempts, their fraud was exposed. A dawn raid by an over-zealous military escort saw Mudslinger along with Jackhammer and Overload, two of the other key players, arrested.

In their detention, they had both had chosen to finger the absent Greasepit as the ringleader in order to avoid a lengthy sentance; Mudslinger however had been less ready to bust his colleague maintaining it was a joint operation and that no-one should carry the rap alone. But his steadfastness went unrewarded. Greasepit himself framed Mudslinger as the ringleader before taking the money and running. The result was that while Overload and Jackhammer got realtively lenient sentances, Mudslinger went down for the long haul. No-one saw Greasepit again until his head popped up under the Decepticon banner several years later. But when Jackhammer's untimely death behind bars coincided with Overload's redirection of blame from Greasepit to Mudslinger, Overload walked free and Mudslinger's sentance more than doubled. Mudslinger's steadfastness had gone unrewarded and his hatred for those that betrayed him was enough that anyone daring to remind him of his dark past would feel his wrath.

For a moment the world seemed to take a step back in respect of Mudslinger's mighty sigh, readying itself for his inevitable backlash. The hours of abuse, snide remarks and blatant disrespect finally caugh up with him. "You spark a glitch!" He spat under his breath, stepping forward and launching himself into a clash with with distinct aniomosity. The powerful robot landed a mean right hook onto Heavy Tread's chin, sending the other heavy robot sprawling. He stood above Heavy Tread, leaning over him a little, his fists clenched by his sides in neat balls of fury. "You want some? Huh? You want a piece of me?"

"Hey!" screamed Slow Poke, leaping at Mudslinger, groping at his shoulder, but he shrugged off the challenge with a powerful barge felling Slow Poke flat on his back. Heavy Tread shook his head as his senses began to return, his weight supported by his elbows that propped his body up from the dirt. His optic sensors began to focus in time to see Mudslinger's clenched fist slicing the air through to his face. In the nick of time, Heavy Tread's head ducked backwards, Mudslinger's momentum spinning him full-circle.

It was Hydraulic who reacted first, grappling with Mudslinger in a face-to-face bear hug. "Calm down, Mudslinger!" he demanded. He had served with Mudslinger on the Front Line and had seen at first hand his anger in action, so tried to offer a voice of reason to calm him down. But it was wasted on Mudslinger. The violent Autobot clenched his oral hydraulics and head-butted Hydraulic in the optic sensors. Hydraulic howled for a second and staggered backwards.

The situation was threatening to get worse before it got better. Slow Poke had retaken his feet and charged at Mudslinger. Hydraulic had starting to stand up too. With his teammates circling, Mudslinger was about to get overwhealmed. Leaping between him and the advancing Slow Poke, Powertrain grabbed Mudslinger by the shoulder, thrusting his other hand outwards. "Hey!" he screamed as the Autobots began to slow their advances. "Hey! Come on, guys!" Powertrain glanced over his shoulder. "We're Autobots." He reminded them. "All of us."

Heavy Tread took to his feet, rubbing his chin for a moment. "Well, most of us are." he muttered to himself. Mudslinger scowled, but by now accepted the rukus was over. Ironworks felt his optics skirting left to right and back to the left again, trying to pick up the clues. Whatever their history, the rest of the Trucks considered Mudslinger a Decepticon for some reason. Their reluctance to accept his leadership, therefore, was finally becoming clear.

Powertrain shook his head. "No." He explained confidently. "All of us." He stressed, looking around at the Monster Trucks in turn. "And there's a couple more Autobots in there," he continued, nodding his head in the direction of the Decepticon base some distance away, "that took the heat for us."

Hydraulic nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, "and as Autobots that means we have to help."

"High Jump and Tote are somewhere in there," Powertrain explained once more, releasing Mudslinger's shoulder and pointing into the gloom, "and it's up to us to do something."

"We should get back in range and call for backup." Ironworks offered. "I know Groundshaker is away, but that leaves Full-Barrel and Overflow..." Mudslinger's stare told him that it was unrealistic to expect help from the joint number twos. "Okay then, what about Countdown?" He suggested, glancing at Powertrain for support. He shook his head. "The Battle Patrol?" Ironworks groped for inspiration as he mentally dropped through the Autobot ranks.

"We'll be lucky if we get some two-bit support grunts like the Hot Rod Patrol to help." Powertrain speculated. Big Hauler and Mudslinger grimaced. Hydraulic coughed as if reminding Powertrain of the Trucks' position in the Autobot army'. "Oh, er sorry, no offence." Powertrain looked over at Ironworks. "But by all means, give Countdown call."

Ironworks shook his head. "Not from here. Can't risk an interception." He looked up with hopefulness. "We should get back into Autobot territory and-"

"We don't have time for that." Heavy Tread objected. There was a short silence again. "But, hey, no matter." He smiled. "There's five of us. We can save them ourselves. I mean, how hard can it be?"

Powertrain looked at Ironworks. "Seven." He corrected.

Slow Poke smiled and stepped forward, placing a hand on Powertrain's shoulder. "No offence," He began, casting a glance at his four colleagues, "but this isn't a job for civilians. Better leave it to the 'two-bit grunts'." Touche. Powertrain smirked uneasily. "What is it you guys do again?" Slow Poke asked.

Powertrain shrugged. "We're mostly into construction."

"And haulage." Ironworks added before looking down sheepishly. This was not an interview or advertisement after all. "I do a lot of communication work too." He finished, trying to sound useful.

"I wish his partner would learn to communicate better." Big Hauler whispered to Slow Poke, who had also taken offence to Powertrain's remark about soldiers. They stood in silence for a moment before Mudslinger took charge.

"Come on, how are we going to do this?" He asked looking for some support or motivation. "What do we know about the building they were taken to?"

Powertrain and Ironworks glanced at each other and shrugged. "It's some sort of secure compound." Powertrain summarised, although the seven of them had been through this already.

Heavy Tread and Slow Poke took their turn to glance at each other. "Is that really the best you can offer?"

"Hey!" Ironworks objected. "We didn't design the damn thing!"

"Yeah," Slow Poke conceded. "but you must know something else about it." He argued. "You must know its weaknesses. You're the engineers!" Powertrain's mouth opened for a moment, before shutting closed. There was no logical response to such a senseless comment.

A familiar yet inconclusive silence descended. "Right," Heavy Tread announced, "well, I'm going. You guys coming with me?" Slow Poke and Big Hauler nodded while Hydraulic was less sure, but decided to remain on the side of his team. Powertrain reminded him he was not prepared to go.

"I'm not going without more intelligence." He concluded. Heavy Tead and Big Hauler glanced at each other, each filling in a suitable punchline for the joke neither of them had to utter.

Heavy Tread looked over at Mudslinger. "Muds?"

"Go frag yourself." He spat, still smarting from their fracas. "And don't come running to me when the Sports Cars whup your tailpipe."

A succession of ugly glares appeared on the faces of the Trucks. "Hey guys!" Powertrain objected, trying to intervene before the in-fighting recommenced. "We have to-"

"Too late for that." Heavy Tread announced, looking at Hydraulic and the others for support. "We're out of here." With that, the four Trucks transformed and sped away.

"Hydraulic!" Ironworks called. "Slow Poke!" But it was too late and they had left. He looked at Mudslinger. "Great." He mocked. "Now what?" He looked to Powertrain for advice.

He looked back, and at Mudslinger, before shrugging. "Perhaps it's time to make that call after all."

--

CHAPTER 12

A sly and silent smile crept across Tote's the sirens began to wail. He knew High Jump must have already given the Decepticons the slip. Too bad; he had been hoping to beat him. Tote and High Jump were playfully competative about all things whether it was who could get accross the Forlan Delta faster, estimating the number of panes of glass in the Cortex Tower on the south side of Iacon or indeed, who would escape first from Decepticon custody.

"Hear that?" asked Tote of his captor.

"Shut it!" Blackjack demanded.

"Skyhopper's not going to be happy." Tote retorted.

"He said be quiet!" snapped Roadhugger. He looked at Blackjack, who shrugged. The purple Decepticon narrowed his optics and motioned to Blackjack to keep his eye on their prisoner before stepping over to the intercom. "Yeah." He answered.

The unmistakable voice of Detour was talking as fast as he could drive. After getting him to calm down a little, Roadhugger finally got Detour to speak more clearly. A quieter murmur came through the intercom as Tote strained to listen in, but the Decepticons were not letting him in on anything. That was, until Roadhugger could not help but repeat.

"His leg?" He asked, grimacing a little at the thought. Detour shouted a little more and Roadhugger interupted. "Okay! Okay! I'm coming!" He turned on his heel. And stepped over to Tote. "Your friend is fried circuitry." He promised vainly; it was clearly a threat. Detour would not have been calling so anxiously if High Jump was already dead. Wherever he was, he was well out of sight of the Decepticons. "And if you try to escape, you're going to fry too!"

Tote smiled. "I promise to be good." Roadhugger scowled and told Blackjack to keep a firm optic on their guest.

"Don't worry." He laughed. "What can he do from behind bars?" He waved his hand close to the energy beams, feeling the warm blue glow of floating free electrons tingle the circuits in his fingertips. Roadhugger transformed into his vehicle form and sped from the holding cells to join the hunt for High Jump.

Tote paced about his cell for a moment as Blackjack stood on, one optic on the Autobot and one on the monitors in case High Jump was about to show up to rescue his friend. Tote made a couple of exaggerated steps, his metallic feet clanging in the cell. Blackjack's optics narrowed but he said nothing. Tote sat down for a minute or so before taking to his feet once more. He stepped over to the far wall and tapped on it, gently at first before culminating in a heavy bang.

"Sit down, Autobot!" fumed Blackjack.

Tote shrugged and sat down. "'Just checking the walls."

"They're solid." Blackjack announced confidently.

Tote nodded. "Yeah, I believe you." After a minute or so of silence, save for the perpetual wail of the siren, Tote began tapping his feet a little impatiently, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the siren. Blackjack looked up from his console again and Tote stopped. After a second or two's silent stare, Blackjack returned his attention back to his console. Tote sighed and stood up before giving one of the side walls a hefty bang almost making Blackjack jump.

"For Primus' sake!" He screamed. "Sit down!"

Tote shrugged again. "I was just checking the rest of the walls." He smiled and sat down. "I'd feel pretty stupid if after all this time the side panels were thin enough for me to break out of."

"Think again, Autobot." Blackjack growled. "But by all means, test the fourth wall." He smirked, refering to the energy bars that would most probably burn him on contact. Blackjack returned his attention to his console. Tote heard a couple of clicks and finally a voice come over the intercom. It was Grit. Apparently the Constructor Squad was somewhere in the vicinity. He was explaining the situation and was after extra optic and audio sensors to keep a lookout for High Jump. "But be careful," he warned of the civilian Decepticons, "Hyperdrive got..."

There was a third thud and this time was louder than ever. It was Tote and he was bashing at the final solid wall. He looked through the bars at Blackjack whose head had shot up like a rocket. Tote gave him a nod of approval. "Rock solid." Tote confirmed. "This is a good quality cell - best I've ever been in." Blackjack ended his transmission and walked back over to the cell.

"One more peep out of you." He warned. "Just one."

Tote looked sad. "Aw, come on. I was just bored. Do you want to play a game?"

"How about murder the prisoner?" Blackjack suggested.

Tote shook his head. "Nah." He smirked. "I was thinking something more competitive. Your game sounds a little one-sided." Blackjack walked back to his console. "I was thinking about a challenge. Who can burn the most rubber?" Blackjack stopped in his tracks and turned to face Tote. "Who can make the most smoke," Tote continued. "I reckon my high torque engine can burn more rubber than your over-revving race engine."

Blackjack stepped closer. Bingo. The Sports Patrol's weakness was their pride. Ever since the Race Track Patrol formed, they were second best. After years of dominating the track in team and individual events, they were now the first losers to their high speed Decepticon rivals. It hurt. "Or perhaps I'll just tell Road Hog you were too cowardly to take on an..."

With that Blackjack leapt into a transformation and revved his engine. "Throw down, Autobot!"

"What's the prize?" asked Tote, transforming into his van transport mode.

"When I win," Blackjack began confidently, "you sit there quietly."

"And if I win," Tote revved, "I get to go free?" He asked with playful optimism. "Okay," he bargained knowing that was never on the cards, "then I get to talk to you, you know, to pass the time."

Blackjack engaged his brakes and began to rev his engine more. Tote reciprocated. Blackjack increased his speed; Tote pushed himself further. Tyre smoke and engine exhaust began to fill the cells as the two robots engaged in their static battle, separated by walled energy bars. "Is that all you've got?" laughed Blackjack as Tote's power began to fade. "I was just getting started!" With a rev and squeal that drowned the noise of the siren, thick black plumes of burned rubber and spent energon bellowed into Tote's cell.

"Wow!" Tote began, admiring Blackjack's power and cutting his own. Blackjack over-revved once more.

"Pathetic." He boasted. "I wasn't even warmed up."

Tote smiled. "You will be in a minute." He muttered to himself. The smoke filled the room and as the particles from their used energon deposits floating in the cloud drifted against the bars in Tote's cell, the carbon dust glowed as the tiny specks ignited. Blackjack transformed as the exhaust flakes sparked against the energy bars. A few larger powdery specs hit the bars sending shots of flame and smoke into the air. "Now you've done it!" Tote laughed.

The look of horror on Blackjack's face was priceless as he transformed. The room, flooded with highly flammable carbon dust began to glow more and more as partially-spent fuel ignited on Tote's cell bars. "Oh, shoot!" Blackjack cussed as he began wafting the air with his hands, trying to vent some circulation in the otherwise stagnant room. It was a futile task as more and more fuel ignited. Tote sat in his transport mode laughing at Blackjack's predicament as the Decepticon's hand caught alight. He screamed and started running around. As his paint finish started to burn, peel and bubble, more and more dry dust particles stuck his his arm and added to the flames. "This is your fault!" Blackjack screamed. "You stupid Autobot!"

Tote laughed and backed up in his cell as far away from the entrance as possible. "I don't know." He laughed again. "I really thought it was rather clever." By now the floor was alight and the flames were licking at the walls of his cell. One of the consoles on Blackjack's side of the energy bars ignited, overheated and quickly erupted, sparks and broken equipment scattering shattered shrapnel around the room.

Blackjack was panicking as his futile attempts to put out the flames became overawed by yet more flames. The whole cell was threatening to be engulfed in an inferno. "Calm down, 'Jack!" Tote shouted. "There's a fire extinguisher on the wall." Blackjack looked up trying to reduce the fuel pressure in his lines. He skipped over the flames and pulled the device from the wall.

"When I'm through with this, I'm going to kill you!" Blackjack promised.

"Yeah, yeah," laughed Tote, "we'll see." His optics, hidden in his vehicle form, were straining through the smoke to see Blackjack fiddling with the fire extinguisher. "Three, two, one..." he counted to himself before a flash of blue brilliance blew out of the device in Blackjack's hands. The extinguisher, of course, was a booby-trapped plant that he and High Jump had installed last time they visited the Decepticon's so-called secure installation. The electromagnetic pulse radiated from the box in Blackjack's burning hands and a small wave blasted through the cells.

The lighting shut off and the console terminals that were yet to go up in flames shutdown. More importantly, the systems controlling the energy beams blockading his cell failed and Tote was free. He transformed into his robot form and sat down for a moment, flames still lapping at his feet. Holding a hand to his head he was feeling the effects of the electromagnetic bomb that had caused himself some internal damage too. "Ah, Primus!" He blasphemed. "God, that hurts!" He took a step or two forwards and hopped over a flame before dropping to one knee. "Mental note." He whispered to himself. "Don't ever get caught up in your own electromagnetic explosion. Oh, my head!"

He gave it a little shake and made a bolt for the doorway as the flames started to threaten him too. Pausing for a second at the door, he looked over at Blackjack's unconscious body. The poor scraplet had taken the brunt of the explosion and his systems were probably screwed. It was going to take more than a quick reboot to get him up and running again. Add to that the flames that were in danger of burning his circuits from the inside out, this was no way to die. He pounded over to the Decepticon and scooped him up before making a run for the door once more.

Away from the heat of the cells, the flames on the robot blackened deeper still were quickly subsided. Tote carried him down the corridor and into a distant room before laying him down on a bench. "Come on, 'Jack." He ordered. "Don't die on me." He look up and scanned his optics around the room and soon discovered it was a technical bay, a storage room for maintenance equipment. There were boxes of new and used parts, some working and broken pieces, all labelled neatly. It was clearly one of the Constructor Squad's rooms; all this neatness and labelled organisation was probably their idea of heaven. Before leaving, Tote snatched the sign labelling one box of slightly damaged parts and left it on Blackjack. Tote read the label with a smile before giving Blackjack a quick slap on the face and transforming. Now all there was left to do was find High Jump.

--

CHAPTER 13

The rain beat down on Tote as the red Autobot emerged from the Decepticon installation, the captors he had evaded no closer to recapturing him this time as any other time before. He was more or less far enough away already and was more or less safe. Tote leapt silently from secluded shadow to secluded shadow, effortlessly leaving the smoking building behind. Just as he had started to feel he could relax, a deep voice growled from the shadows ahead. "Hold it, Autobot!"

Tote froze. How could he have been so careless? A figure was illuminated briefly by a brilliant flash of lightning as an electrical storm closed in. Tote squinted at the familiar shape and High Jump stepped out of the dark, his grin stretched from audio sensor to audio sensor.

"Primus!" Tote spat. "High Jump - you spark of a glitch!" Tote stood still for a moment trying to get his systems going again. "Don't do that. I'm still recovering from an electromagnetic blast!"

"Ahh," High Jumn nodded thoughtfully, "the fire extinguisher. So you used it?"

Tote glanced over at the flames in the distance. "Isn't it obvious?"

High Jump smiled. "I was just humouring you. So," he paused.

"How long have you been here?" Tote interuputed, a hand rubbing at the side of his aching head. High Jump shrugged.

"Not long, perhaps an hour or so." High Jump nodded to himself again.

Tote frowned. "You could have tried to help me, or did you forget we were partners?"

High Jump shrugged again. "I had to stop by the personal quarters on the way out. I was installing that Jump-o-gram I promised on Blackjack's console." Tote laughed a little, "Besides, I knew you'd be okay."

"Yeah? Well I doubt Blackjack's going to be okay enough to see your Jump-o-gram for a while." Tote smiled, flipping open a personal console on his arm and showing a series of stills captured by his optic sensor.

"'Needs attention.'" High Jump read the label on the unconcious Decepticon on the screen and burst into laughter. "Okay, should we go?"

The pair of Autobots reverted to their vehicle modes. "And besides I didn't see you coming to help me," High Jump picked up the thread.

"I knew you'd be okay." Tote replied in a mocking voice before revving his engine and speeding away, High Jump in pursuit. Aside from trying to avoid Fireshot and Vanquish, the Military Patrol aircraft that was sweeping the area, they escaped from the Decepticon frontier and back into Autobot territory uneventfully. Drawing to a halt, the partners transformed and reported into Countdown.

High Jump sat on the side of the roadway while Tote gave a quick summary to Countdown. "So you both escaped?" asked their commander over the intercom. "How?"

"Trade secrets." Tote smiled stubbornly.

High Jump shook his head and walked over to Tote's intercom. "I broke through a window, but Tote just had to go over the top." He smiled and looked at Tote. "He burned down the whole slagging building!" He laughed.

"So anyway," continued Tote, "we'll be heading back in about.."

"Guys, listen to me." Countdown interupted. "I'm sorry, but there's bad news." There was a pause. "I have a job for you both."

High Jump and Tote looked at each other. "What? Already?" asked High Jump.

Tote grimaced. "No rest for the wicked." He muttered.

"After what happened, after, you know," Countdown continued, "you got captured..."

"After we got slagged by a bunch of civi morons." High Jump offered his version of events.

Countdown rolled his opics. "Yeah, well, whatever." He continued. "Well, as far as I can tell, Heavy Tread was feeling guilty and..."

"Good reason to." High Jump mumbled to Tote.

"Hey!" Countdown objected angrily. "This is your mess - if you had followed my orders..."

"Then we'd all be in the slagging smelting pool!" High Jump interupted, grabbing the communicator from Tote. "If you'd let us do our job, none of this would have happened." He seethed. "Goddamned bureaucrats!" He cussed, slamming the communicator to the ground. Tote looked over at his partner as he stomped off a little and sitting on some makeshift stool formed from scrap debris. Tote bent down and picked up the communicator and gave it a short tap. Countdown's face reappeared on the screen.

"What about him?" Tote asked more diplomatically. "What did Heavy Tread do?"

Countdown sighed. "He tried to break you guys out." he explained.

Tote was astonished and even High Jump's attention was recaptured. "What?" Tote asked. "On his own?" Countdown shook his head.

"I don't know." He confessed. "I think some of the other Trucks were involved too." He paused. "All I got was this transmission a couple of hours ago." He explained and relayed Ironworks' message. "'The Trucks screwed up. Tote and High Jump have been captured. Heavy Tread has gone in after them.'" Countdown paused. "And that was maybe two hours ago." He repeated.

The two Autobots exchanged glances. "And what happened?" High Jump asked more calmly, taking a few steps towards Tote. Countdown said nothing, but it was obvious it was not good. "What about Ironworks and Powertrain?"

"I don't know." Countdown repeated. "I don't know their status, or anyone's status. I don't know if it's the storm that's interfering or what, but I can't get through to them." High Jump looked at Tote. They knew as well as each other it was unlikely to be the storm regardless of Countdown's optimism. The thought of two unprotected civilian Autobots deep in enemy territory was a big deal. High Jump muttered an 'I told you so' more-or-less to himself, his prediction for mission failure all-too-noticeably correct. "Now is not the time, High Jump!" Countdown argued. "For what it's worth, they must have completed the signal amplifier as we registered it as on-line maybe half an hour before that transmission was sent. Perhaps they are holding out somewhere near there." He suggested before a pause settled over the airwaves.

"There's another thing." High Jump added before explaining that they had tried to extract data from the border office regarding the 'something big' they had presumed. He chose not to mention the killings just yet though. Countdown told him they could investigate this later, but firstly it was more important to ascertain the status of his missing Autobots.

"Guys, I'm counting on you." Countdown reminded them, although this was not first time. "I need data. I need their status." Tote nodded. "I need you to two to do what you do best."

High Jump looked up at Tote. It was time to head back into Decepticon territory to find their colleagues and it was also Tote's turn to roll his optics. "Sure thing boss." He moaned. "We're on it." He closed the channel. High Jump smiled as his partner finally formed the same conclusion he had made before their mission had even begun. "Damned civi's..." Tote cussed.

--

CHAPTER 14

The Autobot duo raced back towards Drust and to the amplification equipment Powertrain and Ironworks had installed. Perhaps starting there they might find where it was the Autobots had disappeared to. They hopped back over the Krion Canyon and back into Decepticon territory for the third time that day. Reverting to their vehicle forms, they drove quietly towards the construction site, but all the more aware of a greater Decepticon presence owing to their recent escape from the very land into which they now found themselves driving.

"Hey!" High Jump whispered as they approached the construcion site. "Look at-"

"I see! I see!" Tote replied excitedly before pulling up on the side of the road. The two Autobots transformed into their robot forms to take a closer look. In the distance they could see six civilian Decepticon vehicles and robots systematically dismantling the Autobots' hard work as the G1750 fell to the ground. "Great." Tote muttered to himself. "All this for nothing." He looked to High Jump for suggestions.

High Jump shrugged. "There's too many of them and too much of a price on our heads to do anything about that for now." He deliberated. The two sat in the shadows for a few minutes as the morning sun began to intensify. "Now all we have to do is think like them." He continued. "If I was stupid enough to lead the Decepticons right to our new equipment, perhaps I would be stupid enough to hold out..." He paused as he scanned the horizon. His optics stopped as a building in the distance caught his attention. "Right about..."

"There?" Tote asked, his instinct drawing himself to the same building. High Jump nodded with a smile. The two Autobots glanced around to check they had not been spotted before transforming into their vehicle forms again. Before long they we cruising towards the building they seemed to connect with. "I'll give you ten-to-one that they're not there."

"I'll keep my money." High Jump laughed, just as confident as Tote that this would be where they would be held up. In their years together either working on occasion with others or simply training them, they had learned to think like their colleagues and anticipate their movements. The building was a short distance away in the run-down and derelict area of town but was perhaps the only one in its neighbourhood that looked like it had some life left in it. "How about I give you ten-to-one on the same deal?"

"No chance!" Tote laughed. They reached the building to find a number of familiar tracks. Several sets of large tyre-tracks headed towards the compound from where they had escaped just hours earlier. "Heavy Tread." Tote whispered to High Jump as they transformed. Tote stood with his back to the wall, his head peering at the doorway, one hand gripped tightly around his pistol, the other feeling its way over the door, groping for a discrete opening mechanism. High Jump was less subtle. Pistol holstered, he kicked down the door to the old, abandoned warehouse, its mass splintering from its frame.

Three heads of Ironworks, Powertrain and Mudslinger appeared over their respective shoulders, Mudslinger reaching across the desk they were hunched over for his rifle. "High Jump!" Ironworks exclaimed as he stepped inside, Tote following a little annoyed at High Jump's lack of protocol. Mudslinger finally reached his rifle.

"Good thing you weren't Decepticons," he deliberated, "I was about to blast your head off."

High Jump shook his head. "Good thing we aren't Decepticons," he agreed, "because otherwise you would all be dead by now." He finished sternly. "You've got to be more vigilant."

Tote stepped up to the others. "Where are the rest of the Trucks?" He asked, his head glancing around.

"According to the four tracks outside," High Jump supposed, "they're well away." He looked to Ironworks who shrugged, then nodded at High Jump's observation. "Which was why I knew that the rest of you guys must still be in here." Powertrain looked at Mudslinger, who put down his rifle. "Some covert team you are." He scoffed.

"How did you know to come here?" Powertrain asked.

Tote shrugged. "Intuition, I suppose." He answered rather less fully than Powertrain had wanted. He stepped around the desk took a quick glance at Ironworks' personal console about which the others had been huddled. "What'cha working on?" He asked casually.

Ironworks' mouth opened for a second, a little taken aback that the two Autobots they were trying to figure out how to rescue had just wandered in as if nothing had happened. "We were trying to get in touch with Countdown." Ironworks explained.

"Yeah," Powertrain echoed, "but for some reason we can't get a signal."

"You want to know why?" He asked, but without waiting for a reply. "You get the G1750 up and running?" He asked, knowing the answer already.

Powertrain nodded. "Yeah," Ironworks began confidently, "we already made an emergency call via it. It was working fine then."

"Yeah?" asked High Jump, "well I've got about half a dozen Decepticons who think otherwise." Tote explained that they saw the Constructor Squad around their new construction.

"Constructor Squad?" asked Ironworks. "What where they doing?"

High Jump shrugged. "What they do best." He replied.

"But in reverse." Tote added. "They were taking your handiwork down."

High Jump nodded. "While we speak the Constructor Squad are ripping down the G1750 you so lovingly installed." He explained, matter-of-fact, pulling up a chair with a cringe-inducing scrape and resting his foot upon it. "That's why you've got no signal." He smirked. A look of disappointment doused itself over Ironworks. His spark sank at the thought of risking his life to install equipment that had already been taken out of action. "But hey-ho," High Jump smiled, "welcome to espionage." This was not the first time something had lasted significantly less time in the field than the preparation for it had taken.

"Still," Tote smiled, "it lasted a good hour before they discovered it."

"Yeah," High Jump added, "could have been worse."

Ironworks looked dejected. "How?" He snapped.

High Jump shrugged. "Well, they could have discovered it *while* you were constructing it." Ironworks thought about this for a moment before conceding the point. He asked High Jump how the Decepticons could have uncovered their spy installation so soon. "Dunno." High Jump admitted. "Perhaps when someone made a call to Countdown they didn't set the right encryption module." He speculated without accusing. Powertrain's optics widened just a little. It was subtle, but it showed High Jump his hypothesis was correct. "Someone made a call and led them right to the amplifier." He continued. "Just a matter of time before it went offline."

Powertrain sighed. "So what happens now?" He asked, without confirming specifically that this is what they had accidentally done when making their original report to Countdown. "We go and get it back?"

Tote shook his head. "New priority." He replied. "Where are the Trucks?" Powertrain explained the standoff and how the Trucks finally left to go and save them. Ironworks added that their plan to enter via the drainage was flawed because they lacked the equipment to break in that way. "But that must have been hours ago." Tote observed. "Where are they now?" Ironworks shrugged and Powertrain shook his head. They did not need to explain that they should have reported in by now and that in all probability something had gone wrong.

"Idiots!" High Jump cussed to himself. "I told them to get out of here."

"So what do we do?" Powertrain asked.

There was a short pause as the five Autobots considered what they might do next. As they stood in the shadows the roar of a bypassing vehichle reminded them they were not in the safest of surroundings. "Well, here is not the place to discuss this." Tote disclosed explaining the region was a hot-bed for Decepticon patrols since their escape, not to mention the neutralist vigilantes out to claim the bounty on their heads. "High Jump, you want to go and gather some intel?" he asked. High Jump shrugged and nodded. "Check out the airfield." He suggested and High Jump nodded once more. "Okay, see you at 87?" He asked, cryptically.

"Sure." High Jump answered, transforming into his vehicle form and resetting a chronometer. "Two hours?" He asked.

"Two hours." Tote confirmed as High Jump raced off. He turned his attention to the others. "Okay, follow me."

--

CHAPTER 15

"What the Hell are we doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?" Mudslinger complained from the rear of the train of vehicles bounding over the wastelands. Tote had led Powertrain and Ironworks ahead of him some distance away from Drust, back over the Krion bridge and into the Forlan Delta once more. "The 'Con's are back where we came from." He reminded his escort. Tote said nothing, but after another complaint by Mudslinger finally explained that they were nearly there. Presently he drew to a halt and transformed into his robot form.

"Okay," he announced, "we're here." The three other Autobots remained in their vehicle modes, unconvinced.

"We ain't here!" Mudslinger dared to suggest. "We ain't anywhere." He concluded, looking around at the deserted landscape. "We are, in fact, nowhere."

Tote smiled. "Precisely." He beamed, wirelessly activating a control unit before, from the dirt, dust and debris underfoot, sprung up several items of equipment buried from view.

"What the Hell?" Mudslinger questioned, taking to his robot form. "What is this?"

"Our comms system." Tote explained. "It has a secure, direct connection with Autobase and all the information we could ever need."

Powertrain and Ironworks reverted to their robot modes and looked around the metallic desert. "Out here?"

Tote shrugged. "Why not?" He asked. "No-one's ever going to find it here, are they?" He smiled. "It doesn't need to bounce of satellites either." He added. "This stuff is really old-school, but it works."

Ironworks stepped over to the console and ran his fingers over a few of the keys. "Wow!" He whispered to himself. "Hey," he called, "you got any more of these?"

"Yeah," Tote nodded with pride, "we have hundreds all over Cybertron; this one is number 87. Years of espionage hidden away from prying optics, all in places they cannot be found." He added. "We can patch pretty much directly into Countdown's personal console, or hack the payroll system with these beauties. You wouldn't believe the dirt we've dug up on some guys." Ironworks' optics widened, but not as wide as Mudslinger's. Powertrain, too, felt the momentary shiver of old misdemeanour's resurface and the ugly thought that someone might know a thing or two he would rather confine to history. Some dirt was better left undug.

Their attention was recaptured as Tote wrapped his knuckles on the console and logged into the Autobot database, before turning to others. "To business?" Tote sat on a makeshift chair in front of the screen. "Ordinarily High Jump and I would play this out by ear." Tote glanced at Powertrain who nodded passively. "But with new guys on board, I think it makes sense to form some sort of plan." He tapped on the console for a moment or two and brought up the intelligence they had on the area. Files of data including plans, maps and satellite images appeared on the screen. Tote smiled and pointed out the satellite image was out of date, recalling the infernal state he had left a particular building in just a few hours earlier. "Okay, so here's the deal. We've got four Autobots being held somewhere in the vicinity. We overheard the Decepticons talking about Flattop coming to take us to Polyhex in order to instigate some sort of POW exchange." He flicked his head in the direction of High Jump many miles away. "Now, we made it out of there. They are not going to screw up again. The Decepticon transport is scheduled to arrive 'tomorrow', whenever that is." He paused while he consulted his internal chronometer. "So I guess that means sometime between eight and thirty-two hours time."

"Which means we have between eight and thirty-two hours to get in and get them out." Powertrain concluded. The trio of Autobots nodded.

"Now, it makes sense to assume Flattop will be landing his transporter somewhere close by and the only suitable location would be this airfield base." Tote supposed. "It's probably no more than a ten minute drive from where they were picked up." He pointed to the screen and brought up a satellite image of the airfield. It was fairly basic. There was a short runway, a control tower, a couple of maintenance bays and a small and a large hanger. "Last time I was there, which I admit was some time ago," Tote conceded, "it had a small and relatively trivial perimeter fence. It would be no problem at all getting in."

Mudslinger looked at the image. "Last time you were there?" Tote nodded. "And how old is this image?"

Tote shrugged. "Probably a week - two weeks tops."

"So it could have all changed since then?" Mudslinger asked.

Tote nodded. "It's possible." He conceded, but with a smile reminded them that was why High Jump would be scoping the airfield as they spoke.

--

CHAPTER 16

High Jump smiled as the smouldering wreckage of the base Tote had ignited came back into view. He had spent the last half an hour or so staking out the airfield just beyond the far side of the base where he suspected Flattop would be flying his transporter to soon. It was small with one small hangar and one larger one as well as a control tower and the obligatory runway. The airfield was completed by a maintenance bay and a refuelling depot and surrounded by a reasonable unproblematic perimeter fence. With his observations complete, he returned to the base he had escaped from some hours earlier to look for clues on the missing Monster Trucks.

He crept forward and towards the drainage system outlet where Ironworks had told him they had intended to access the base. Indeed, after a short while spent intermitantly in the shadows trying to avoid search the patrols, he uncovered four sets of tyre tracks that zeroed in on the drain. Checking once again that there was no-one in the area about to expose him, High Jump peered through the thick protective mesh of the drainage cover and into the long pipe that headed for the centre of the complex. Waste water and other chemicals pumped from its innards, probably excess fluids that had been pouring through the building's drains with the activation of the automatic fire extinguishers caused by Tote's blaze. He gave the mesh a tug but it held fast.

Kneeling in the dirt, High Jump ran his fingers instinctively through the grime, examining its consitency by smudging the sludge through his fingertips. He detected gunpowder residue and other spent explosives between his fingers, but there was little more than a dent in the mesh. He consulted his chronometer again. It was just under an hour before he had agreed to meet up with Tote a good half an hour away. That gave him a short while to look for more signs.

What he found, however, were not the signs he had hoped for. Instead his fears were realised. He examined the scene more thoroughly and observed additional tracks, heavy tracks he concluded that were not made by the Sports Cars, partially because of their weight and style, but more because the Sports Cars' tracks were also present. Whatever happened here had seen perhaps ten or more Decepticons here recently and that would have been more than enough to overpower the Trucks.

He backed up and climbed out of the ditch before looking around. The combined form of Vanquish and Fireshot overhead once more as he leapt back into the ditch and into the cover of waist-high waste sludge. As the Decepticon aircraft disappeared he climbed out again and considered the situation. The combined tracks looked like they returned to the front entrance to the buidling, near to the entrance to the tall tower that he had been taken to. High Jump recorded a few images and was about to leave when the entrance burst open. Ducking behind debris that formed some makeshift cover, he saw the unmistakeable figures of Slow Poke, Hydraulic, Heavy Tread and Big Hauler trudge from the entrance accompanied by Detour and Roadhugger alongside Direct-Hit and Powerpunch from the Battle Squad. He ducked again as Vanquish and Fireshot made another reconnaissance fly-by. The party led their Autobot captives in the direction of the airfield. High Jump checked his chronometer once more. He had time. Just.

--

CHAPTER 17

Tote closed the communication channel with Countdown he had made via his hidden field console. "There's one thing I don't get." Powertrain pondered. "If you've got all these communication centres dotted over Cyberton, why the Hell are we risking our necks installing new amplifiers?" Mudslinger thought about this for a while and nodded, agreeing with Powertrain's assessment.

"Traffic." Ironworks speculated with his background in communications systems, glancing at Tote, who nodded. "I doubt these old direct channels can take the volume of data we need."

"Yeah," Tote echoed, "it's fine for us trying to get a word to or from Autobase, but hooking up real time surveillance through these cables would be more than they can handle." His attention drifted as he saw the sight of a familiar grey truck speeding towards them. High Jump's foul, sludge-covered form finally arrived at checkpoint 87 more or less on time. He transformed into his robot form and welcomed the greeting Powertrain offered him. "I've been talking to Countdown," Tote explained, wasting no time and getting straight back to business, "and I told him we found these three." He nodded towards Mudslinger, Ironworks and Powertrain. High Jump nodded. "And the Trucks?" Tote asked.

High Jump nodded, trying to wipe some of the drainage fluid from his body. "The 'Cons took them to the airfield." He replied to Tote's satisfaction, echoing his lack of surprise. "Just like we thought." He sat down, readying himself for business. The pair's relentless pace was hard for the others to match, Ironworks, Powertrain and Mudslinger still preferring to rest. High Jump looked at the satellite map that Tote had pre-empted him with. With a greasy finger High Jump pointed at the buildings in the airfield. "I followed them here," he explained, "to this hanger." The smaller hanger, he explained, looked from distance like it had been converted into some sort of barracks. "I guess they'll be hanging onto them there until Flattop arrives."

"And then?" Tote asked, as if he did not already know the answer. High Jump spread his digits on his right hand and made a whooshing sound the imaginary aircraft he had made took off from the imaginary runway on his left hand. Tote nodded. "Which means we have until Flattop arrives to get them out of there."

"Otherwise?" Powertrain asked.

"Otherwise they get a one-way ticket to Polyhex." High Jump replied. Tote nodded in agreement. They did not disclose what exactly that meant, but the others knew that this would be their last chance to bust them out. Storming a relatively unguarded airfield on the frontier between Decepticon territory and the middle of nowhere was one thing. Breaking into the POW camp in Polyhex to release four captives was simply a non-starter. There had never been a successful Autobot bust-out of Polyhex in all their years of espionage. Polyhex was simply off-limits and so they needed to act now. High Jump looked back at the screen, trying to relate his recent observations to the map of the area. He explained that aside from some recent construction work to the other hangar which must have taken place since that last reconaissance satellite passed by with their map, the image was fairly up-to-date. "Ironworks, so you're the communications guy, right?" He lifted his head up from the console and looked at Ironworks recapturing his attention. He shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess." He nodded. "Usually I have my communications base to hand before I..."

"Good." High Jump interupted. "I want you to get into here, the comms centre and disable all communication with Fireshot and Vanquish." High Jump pointed to the map. "Oh yeah," He continued, "I forgot to mention, we have reason to believe the Battle Squad will be in the area too," he tapped the screen at the list of Decepticons whose military presence they speculated could be involved, "but it's nothing we can't handle."

Tote nodded as he recalled the Decepticon aircraft sweeping the area. "I doubt you'll see too much resistance."

"Probably no more than two 'Cons, Direct-Hit and Powerpunch, more than likely." High Jump took over. "I saw them with the Trucks and whenever the Sqaud's in town they tend to be in charge of intel. So, we cut them out of the loop, it doesn't matter what Vanquish can see, he won't be able to get the intel to the rest of them."

"Meltdown and Half-track?" Tote asked about the remaining two members of the Decepticon squad. High Jump explained that he had seen them on patrol around the perimeter. Tote nodded. "Okay? You think you can manage that?" Tote asked of Ironworks. "Good." he nodded without waiting for a response.

"Okay, now Musdslinger..." High Jump continued.

"Hey, hey, hey!" voiced Ironworks. "Hey! Just hang on there a minute here! Primus!" High Jump glanced at Tote to guage his reaction before looking back at Ironworks. "You want me to do what?"

"Take out the 'Cons' comms." High Jump shrugged with a quick glance at Tote. "What's up?" He asked. "You never capped a couple of 'Cons before?"

Ironworks' optics widened further. "No!" He boomed. "I haven't ever capped a couple of 'Cons before!" he replied emphasising the repetition.

High Jump rolled his eyes. "God, don't be such a whiney, little..." he began muttering to himself.

"We're not asking you to take on Skystalker." Tote interupted a little more tactfully. "Just a couple of stun shots should do the trick." He explained. "We do have stun grenades, you know. You could..."

"I can't do that!" Ironworks took his turn to interupt. "I... I have no experience in," his stammer dropped into a pause while he searched for the right phrase, "covert operations or operating in...in enemy territory." Ironworks stammered. "I'm not a...I'm a construction engineer for Primus' sake! I'm not search and rescue." The four robots looked around at each other before returning their focus on Ironworks. "And I'm certainly not Special Ops." He looked over at his partner for support. "Him too, for that matter!" Ironworks pointed his finger at the tall orange Autobot.

Powertrain felt optic sensors shift their gaze from Ironworks to him. He shrugged. "Sure, I'm a construction engineer." High Jump frowned, a little frustrated by Powertrain's attitude. "But I'm also an Autobot. And that makes me a warrior."

High Jump's face raised itself with that remark as he felt Powertrain's pride for the Autobot cause match his own, as did Mudslinger. Ironworks' face, however, dropped into a slight smile of hysteria. "Primus, Powertrain. Would you just listen to yourself for one slagging minute?" He burst out loud. "You guys, okay," he looked at High Jump and Tote, "and Mudslinger, I'm sorry, I don't really know you or what you're doing here or what your involvement is, but Powertrain, come on! We're partners. You're a slagging civilian for God's sake! Did you forget that? This is not your war!"

The idea of the war being someone's and not someone else's struck a nerver with Mudslinger. He turned to face the civilian Autobot. "Who the Hell do you think you are?" Mudslinger spat taking a couple of steps over and staring into Ironworks' optics. "Hey?" Mudslinger squared up to Ironworks, who may have had the size on him, but his uneasiness in this sort of situation shone. "Huh?" Mudslinger grunted, pressing both his palms onto Ironworks' chest. "I asked you a question." Tote sensing control and restraint dropping like a bolt from the sky stepped over and intervened.

"Come on guys, we have to sort this." He argued. "Ironworks, your the best comms guy we have." He turned his attention to Mudslinger. "And Mudslinger, I know you don't see eye to eye with your teammates, but they're in that building and they need your help." He reminded them, his arm brought across his chest and pointing over his shoulder at the Decepticon compound on the screen. "All our help. We have to work together on this."

Ironworks calmed a little as Mudsligner backed off. "Look, I was asked by Countdown to come here and help install a covert transmitter." Ironworks reminded them. "That's all." His optics glanced from Tote's own to those of High Jump and Powertrain. "Straying a few kliks into Decepticon territory with support and backup is one thing - and we all saw what happened there. Breaking into a secure Decepticon airfield installation, immobolising two experienced Decepticon soldiers and taking control of their communications tower is an altogether different game." He explained, his voice rising with the realisation of what was being asked of him. "I was not built for this!"

High Jump shrugged. "Well then, it's looks like you weren't built for anything." He scolded, folding his arms and grimacing. For a moment there was an uneasy silence. Mudslinger stepped back in line and looked at the map of the installation; Powertrain joined him, glad of the excuse to avoid the arkward silence.

Ironworks took a step forward recapturing High Jump's attention. "Look," He bargained. "I can help. I want to help." Tote, High Jump and Ironworks found their optics glancing at each other as they tried to negotiate some sort of decision. Ironworks calmed down a little. "I can help." He repeated. "But please, let me do what I know I can do."

High Jump looked at Tote and sighed. "And what is that, exactly?"

Ironworks sighed. "I can set up my communications bay up from here. I can hook up my systems to your console and I'll be able to monitor Decepticon communications too." High Jump looked at Tote for his opinion. "Look, High Jump, I admire you, honestly I do. It's not until you're about to cross that line that guys like us, us on the outside, we see just how courageous you guys are. But I'm just not cut out for getting in so deep. I know me. I'll panic and I'll screw it all up." High Jump shrugged with a hand gesture of annoyance. "Believe me, I'll be more use here." High Jump's face scowled.

"We'll still need to take out the control tower." Tote reminded him.

High Jump nodded. "I'll take care of it,"

Tote shook his head. "No, I'll do it. I'll be able to set up a comm diversion rig and hook up Ironworks with the all the 'Cons' additional data."

"Okay, good idea." High Jump nodded, returning his gaze to Ironworks. "When can you be ready?"

Ironworks' optics glanced upwards instinctively as he made a mental judgement. "I'll radio in and get Overload to pack it into his transport aircraft. He can fly it here. Can he land on these wastelands there," he pointed over High Jump's shoulder, "or are they littered with mines?" Tote nodded and told him the area was safe to the best of his knowledge. The name 'Overload' struck Mudslinger like a plasma rifle to the gut. They had not spoken since their dealings with Greasepit all those years ago. The thought of relying on that traitor made his circuit tingle with rage, but for all his hostility towards his former friend, Tote was right. He had teammates inside that needed his help. "We can haul it into position and be ready in around three hours." Ironworks finished.

"Around?" High Jump asked.

"Okay, I will be ready in three hours." Ironworks changed his stance a little and asserted more confidence.

"Good." Tote nodded.

"Yeah," High Jump added, "'cause that means in three hours and one minute we'll be in that comm room." High Jump explained confidently. "And when we are, you better be ready," High Jump looked down at the monitor for a second. "Right, where were we?" He deliberated before glancing up at Ironworks. "What? Are you still here?" He spat curtly. "Go! Go! Go!" He fired waving the back of his hand with a flicking motion. "Come on! We need your comms bay A-SAP!"

Ironworks nodded, backing off a little to give himself some personal space to make the call. Powertrain cast an ugly glance at High Jump. "What?" Spat High Jump, before nodding a little in concession. "Oh, okay, I was a little hard on him." He whispered. "But his whole 'I don't wanna! I don't wanna!' attitude was really starting to slag me off." Powertrain's optics narrowed a little at High Jump, unconvinced by him and his tone. But remembering that High Jump was used to all this and that he had never claimed to work well with civilians, in fact, quite the reverse, he was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"So then," Powertrain asked with a glance towards Mudslinger, "what do you want from us?"

--

CHAPTER 18

Mudslinger stared into the night sky with distain. The small light approached their secret communications base in the middle of the Forlan Delta. As Overload's aircraft mode drifted into a fuller, more recognisable shape, Mudslinger felt his animosity grow. His years of partnership with Overload seemed more distant than his days incarcerated for his involvement in a scam that should have seen Overload along with Jackhammer and Greasepit behind bars too. The sleek silver and blue aircraft glided past, its engines having been cut some time ago and landed eligantly a short way beyond where he stood.

A few seconds later a familiar figure hopped out of the cockpit before the entire aircraft transformed via a succession of gear mechanisms and ingenious acts of bespoke engineering origami. Overload echoed that of his transporter craft and reverted to his vehicle form. Coupling the unit to his rear, he hauled his load over to where Mudslinger and the others stood waiting. Tote stepped up behind Mudslinger and placed a comforting hand on his wide shoulder, offering both sympathy and a reminded that now was not the time to dig up old gremlins.

Overload came to an abrupt halt. The transmission he received from Ironworks and cleared by Countdown was garbled and limited in its details to say the least, but of all the Autobots he had expected to see, Mudslinger was at the other end of the list. Ironworks stepped over to Overload and gave his trailer a hefty slap. "You brought it then." He nodded, peering through the bars at his communications bay, still oblivious to their unwanted history. Overload said nothing. His attention was captivated by Mudslinger and his own silence, so much so that he forgot even to transform into his robot form. "Overload?" Ironworks asked.

"What?" He blurted. "Oh, yeah." He replied, transforming into his robot mode. Mudslinger's optics never left those of Overload. Even when he turned to unlock the trailer he could feel Mudslinger's icy stare penetrating his metallic hide, sending a shiver down his spine. Powertrain walked over and assisted his partner in removing his commications bay as Overload reappeared in front of Tote, High Jump and Mudslinger.

"Countdown said he was sorry he couldn't spare any more help." He reported. "But I'll do what I can." He added diligently. His optics flashed back at Mudslinger, whose own had still yet to break the stare. Tote's vision picked up on Overload's nervous glance and saw Mudslinger's silently fuming stare. He looked to High Jump for inspiration. High Jump nodded.

"Hey Muds!" He called. "Why don't you come over here so we go through..." the sentance paled, but it was sufficent. Mudslinger's thoughts were interupted. He had been contemplating making some remark about Overload's nice aircraft and how it must have been paid for with money from their business, money that Mudslinger never got a real cut of and yet for which he had gone down big-time for. Instead, he took High Jump's bait and stomped over the console. Overload stood as Mudslinger walked by, his look of anger unmoved. As High Jump took him away, Overload looked at Tote.

"I just want to say-" Overload began.

"Save it." Tote interupted. "I don't care about you and Mudslinger." He snapped. "Whatever your history is, just deal with it." He ordered. "You got that?" Overload nodded. Overload's passive stance and gently demeanour surprised Tote. Although he did not know the details, he knew that Mudslinger had served time and that his one-time business with Overload had turned sour. But as he had said, history is history. But at the same time, he was a little curious how someone of Overload's stature ever dared to get on the wrong side of a brute like Mudslinger. But then again, perhaps looks can be deceiving. He gave Overload a short run-down on the situation at hand while High Jump talked to Mudslinger and kept him at bay.

"We'll be in and out in no time." Tote finished, walking over to High Jump as Powertrain and Ironworks joined him. "This is a hit and run."

High Jump took charge and stood over the map of the installation. "A review?" He suggested, rhetorically. "First, we all take up our positions. Ironworks - are you deployed yet?"

Ironworks nodded. "Check." he replied.

High Jump frowned. "Check?" he asked.

It was Ironworks' turn to frown. "Check?" he repeated, "Er, okay, affirmative?" he offered, as High Jump grinned. Ironworks shrugged before activating the control of his communications bay. In seconds, the heavy-duty construction equipment folded and collapsed away into tidy and convenient holds. The crane tower was replaced by a large digital receiver, satellite dish, numerous consoles and display monitors. Ironworks stood back and smiled at his control bay.

High Jump smiled a quick smile at Tote. "A simple 'yes' would have been sufficient." Tote smiled back but said nothing before High Jump picked up the thread again and reverted to his serious tone. "Powertrain, you wait here." He explained pointing on the map. "Mudslinger, you and I wait here and here." He looked over at Overload. "You park up here, by the main gates. Be sure as Hell to keep far enough back that you don't get spotted. Tote you get in there and give us a secure black out." He explained, pointing at the control tower. "Knock out the Decepticon guards and hook up the control tower to Ironworks' remote patching unit to give him complete coverage." He turned to face Mudslinger. "Next, we secure the holding bay. We break into compound here and here." He pointed to the map. "And you set up an aerial vantage point here," he explained, pointing to an elevated platform over the hanger, before turning to face Powertrain, "and I wait by the side door here for your signal Powertrain." Powertrain nodded. "You enter the compound via this point here and hook yourself up the secondary fuelling rig. You drag it into the middle of the runway. You get the Hell away from it and detonate it remotely using this device." He held up the charge and remote control unit. "This should, firstly and in the short term, prevent Fireshot and Vanquish from landing and secondly provide the distraction. And it will give you time to rendez-vous with Tote at the base of the control tower." Powertrain nodded and glanced at Tote. "You two hold off the remaining Battle Squad. As soon as I see flames shooting into the air I enter the hanger. There should only be Detour and Roadhugger on guard." he smiled at Tote.

"Just the two of them?" Mudslinger interupted. "What about Blackjack and Hyperdrive?"

Tote smiled too. "They should be incapacitated for some time."

"Prior intel." High Jump added recalling the gash he had torn in Hyperdrive's leg and the 'needs attention' label Blackjack now sported thanks to Tote's electromagnetic blast. His serious face returned. "If they exit via the front doors, then Mudslinger it's down to you to deal with them. With an elevated advantage, it should be a snatch. If they remain inside the hanger, I'll deal with them inside." He turned to face Ironworks. "Ironworks - with control over their systems, you then open the large gates at the main entrance to the complex to allow Overload to enter the compound."

"Why can't I just fly my transporter in?" Overload interupted. "It does have an aircraft mode, you know?"

High Jump grimaced. "I am aware of that." He explained. "But if you fly in they'll see you long before Tote gets a chance to knock out the tower. And you'll probably get blasted out of the sky by the Battle Squad. No. You wait by the front gates and be ready to haul. Meet us at the hangar entrance. We don't know the status of the captives. If the Trucks can move under their own steam, we press on and leave the base. Otherwise we load them onto your trailer and we leave in convoy. I take point; Mudslinger, you bring up the rear." High Jump turned to face Tote. "By now you two will have no doubt ascertained the location of the remaining Battle Squad members. Make sure Ironworks knows this," he looked over at Ironworks, "so you can pick a route out of the base and guide us away in safety." Ironworks nodded uneasily, the distress at the prospect of this responsibility all too clear. "Don't worry." High Jump offered. "You'll be fine. From here, you'll be safe and sound." Ironworks nodded again. "Powertrain, you and Tote hook up to the rear of the convoy and we leave together." High Jump paused for a moment. "Should we get separated, the rendez-vous is here." He pointed to another location. "If they get hot, then secondary and tertiary rendez-vous points are here and here. Once we are all safely outside the compound and away from Decepticon troops, we return here to Ironworks." He finished. "Job done."

Tote nodded. It all sounded simple enough to him. This mission was practically mundane by his standards. Mudslinger clenched his fists in anticipation. This was a first for him. He had spent much time on the battlefield in routine combat but had never been involved so heavily behind enemy lines. This was the sort of mission he craved, but one to which he had to date yet to be assigned. However his natural distrust of Overload was clear. Overload had avoided direct optic contact with his former colleague but felt ready to prove his loyalty to the Autobot cause. His previous dealings with Mudslinger were, after all, purely business and a long time ago at that. Powertrain nodded to himself, sharing the motivation of his allies, preparing himself to be thrown in at the deep end on a dangerous but important mission. While he had to believe in his own abilities, it was Ironworks he felt for. His partner was clearly a little off balance by their involvement in this, a covert operation that relied so heavily in their civilian involement. He struggled to regulate his fuel processors. Coolant fluids secreted from his joints as his core temperature heated violently.

"Any questions?" High Jump asked. No-one spoke and for a moment there was no sound until the pump of Mudslinger's rifle split the airwaves.

"What the hell is that?" asked Tote turning to face the noise.

"It's my rifle." Mudslinger beamed, giving it an unnecessary additional pump. "I don't go anywhere without it."

High Jump's optics widened. "Well, you do now." Tote replied curtly. "Leave it here. We're Autobots," he reminded them all, "we don't need to kill anyone."

"There's a name for 'bot's like you," Mudslinger growled, "it's called cowards."

"No," Tote insisted, "it's called stealth." He demanded. Mudslinger looked at High Jump for support, or at least permission. He shrugged. "Look," Tote continued trying to explain the unwritten chivalry of espionage, "it's one thing getting captured and throwing you into the slammer, but if they see you have weapons they're going to shoot to kill." He explained. "And they will kill you and most probably the rest of us."

Mudslinger shrugged with indifference. He was used to getting shot at on the Front Line. Ironworks, however, was not. As unprocessed fuel backed up in his internal sumps discharged back up his throat and splattered onto the ground. All optics turned momentarily to Ironworks, except High Jump who shook his head and turned his back. Powertrain stepped over to Ironworks who stood bent over with one hand on a knee the other clutching at his mouth. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tote walked over to to High Jump and both stood for a moment with their backs to the others. "If he screws up..." High Jump muttered quietly. Tote nodded but said nothing for a while. Ironworks was not ready for this, that much was obvious. But he was an Autobot and such a calling was inevitable. "If he cracks, and those gates don't open..." He shook his head. "I don't want to get trapped inside the compound with four deadpins to take care of," he explained, referring to the four potentially unconscious captives, "and no-one but Anger Management Issues for company." he continued with discrete nod towards Mudslinger. "You know what I mean?"

Tote shook his head. "The gates will open." He promised. "Even if I have to rip them apart myself, they'll open."

High Jump nodded. "Good." He paused as he considered the scenario. "But if you do have to get that gate open yourself, that just leaves Powertain watching your tailpipe with rest of the Battle Squad gunning around unaccounted for. You comfortable with that?"

"I guess I'll have to be." Tote replied.

High Jump shook his head. "It's not you I'm worried about. Nor me for that matter!" He explained. "I know we can take care of ourselves." He nodded over his shoulder. "It's them. What starts off as an attempt to rescue four Autobots could see another three or four getting captured. After all, that's why the Monster Trucks are inside in the first place."

"Yeah," Tote smiled, "but they didn't have our expertise on-hand." He gave High Jump a confident and friendly nudge on the shoulder. "Besides, Ironworks will do his job."

High Jump nodded slowly. "I hope so."

--

CHAPTER 19

Tote silently hugged the terrain, speeding through the dirt on his way to the control tower. Though it was the dead of night and the searchlights provided limited illumination, the infra-red and thermal imaging systems might detect him and alert anyone who cared to notice. He slipped through the shadows and leapt into a quiet transformation at the base of the tower. With a quick glance all around, Tote looked up to the top of the tower to the brightly-lit control room. With another exploratory glance complete, he smiled to himself as the external perimeter staircase that spiralled twice around the tower drifted into view. "Too easy." he thought to himself before reaching up and grabbing the first of several lateral support members. The red Autobot hopped and jumped his way from beam to beam and climbed his way to the upper-level balcony. He dangled for a moment as he honed his audio sensors to the conversation between the two Decepticon Military Intelligence officers above.

Powertrain vaulted the fence and ran hunched over towards the fuel rig. His own fuel was pumping around his lines about as fast as it had ever done before. This was truly new ground for him. Deep in enemy territory, about to sabotage a fuel rig in order to cause the necessary distraction to draw the attention of ruthless Decepticons. Not just regular Decepticons, such as the civilian Constructor Squad, but the hardened military soldiers in the Battle Squad. There was the very real possibility that things could go terribly wrong. From the shadows, he peered up towards the control tower. For a micro-second, the briefest of blue flashes illuminated the windows as Tote's stun grenade went off. A Decepticon aircraft flew close by causing Powertrain to duck and huddle closer to the fuel rig, his optics darting left to right, up and down, all the while his internal pumps threatening to overheat.

Tote ducked instinctively from view as Vanquish and Fireshot flew by the airbase. He stepped over his two unconcious Decepticon victims and stood over the control console. "What the Hell?" He murmured, his hand tracing over the screen. The radar beeped as the blip honed in on the airfield, but Tote quickly assessed it could not have been Vanquish and Fireshot as they had just flown in the other direction. "Overload, damn it!" He spat to himself as he started to hook up the relaying equipment to the control tower. "You were supposed to wait by the gates!"

Powertrain watched as the flame from the rear of the jet disappeared from view and transformed into his hauler mode. He backed into the rig and coupled himself to the trailer. "It's now or never." He whispered to himself and engaged his driving gear pulling the great tanker from it's mooring bay. Barely was he moving when the sound of an aircraft filled the air again. He froze. This was not part of the plan. Seconds later, a small red aircraft approached the runway that he was supposed to have blocked. There was no time for this now. Powertrain transformed back into his robot form and hid behind the tanker hoping whoever the visitor was would not notice the fuel rig being a little out of position.

Mudslinger waited as the black aircraft flew overhead. As Vanquish and Fireshot passed by, he leapt from the shadows and scaled the ladder to the overhead gantry that served as his lookout post. Taking to one knee, he produced his pistol and aimed towards the large hanger doors and signalled a nod to High Jump who he had spotted by the corner of the hanger. High Jump nodded and disappeared around the corner, down the alley between the hangar and a maintenance bay towards the side door. He produced a pistol of his own and double checked its status. Stun was the order of the day, so Tote had insisted. He placed his free hand on the door ready to push it open in one fell swoop as soon as he heard the signal. He waited. "Come on!" He thought to himself impatiently, although this was simply anxiety rather than nervousness. He had been in this situation one hundred times before and trained for it a thousand times previously. But as noise of the second aircraft caught his attention, he released his hand from the door. This was not supposed to happen.

High Jump scampered back down the alleyway to the corner of the building and glanced up at Mudslinger. He shrugged silently and pointed to the landing strip. High Jump saw Powertrain had partially moved the fuel rig, but the clever Autobot engineer was hidden from view. However, it was the red aircraft dropping rapidly from the sky that caught his attention. He activated his head-up display and zoomed in for a closer look. As the wheels touched down he finally identified the unwelcome addition to the base.

"Airwave!" Tote whispered to himself. "Damn!" At least it was not Overload. To his anguish, the Decepticon's voice came over the communication channel. He relayed his speed and trajectory and waited for a response. Tote glanced down at Direct-Hit and Powerpunch. They were still out for the count. "Damn!" He spat, wrestling with Ironworks' communication device. Airwave repeated his message. "Ironworks!" He screamed as he opened up the channel. "Quick! It's Airwave!" He continued, barely pausing to allow Ironworks to acknowledge the transmission. "I need you to guide him down. I'll patch you through. Remember - you're Direct-Hit."

Ironworks sat in the relative comfort of his communications base some distance from the airfield. He too had intercepted the signal from Airwave, but was unable to respond until Tote completed the installation of his covert equipment in the control tower. Ironworks scanned his console database for voice records of Direct-Hit until he found a match. "Oh shoot." He whispered, selecting the record and adapting his voice modulation to resemble that of Direct-Hit.

"Er, roger that Airwave." Ironworks began nervously, holding down the control key on his console that patched his voice to Airwave via the control tower. "We have in you in sight now." He paused for a second. "Er, over." There was a short delay that felt like an eternity. Tote ducked low again and out of sight as Airwave drifted into closer view. Ironworks relayed wind speed information as accurately and plausibly as possible and Airwave touched down on the ground. The world seemed to freeze as the red aircraft retarded and drew to a halt at the end of the runway.

It seemed that Ironworks had done a good enough impersonation of Direct-Hit. High Jump looked over at Airwave who seemed entirely unaware of the Autobot presence. He glanced upwards towards Mudslinger momentarily who was starting to look nervous too. He was sat above the hanger feeling exposed should Airwave spot him. High Jump raised a hand signalling him to stay put, to stay calm and to keep his weapon primed above the hanger in case Detour or Roadhugger emerged. High Jump primed his pistol and aimed across the airfield towards Airwave.

Ironworks sat back for a moment, fluid free-flowing from his joints, his fingers barely able to strike the correct controls. He struck a few keys and the remainder of the control tower's tools came online in his own communications base. He watched from the control tower's monitor feed as Airwave transformed and stretched his aching joints. "Stay calm, Powertrain." Tote whispered to himself as the Decepticon started to walk casually towards the fuel rig.

"Hey, why is this rig not in the fuel bay?" He demanded over the intercom.

Ironworks panicked for a second, barely able to muster a response. "It's damaged. It's out of use. Use the other one!" He stammered. He looked down at the console unsure whether he had held the broadcast key. He held the key and repeated the message.

"Come on Ironworks!" Tote thought. "Keep it together. Keep it short and sweet."

From his vantage point, Mudslinger saw Airwave stop momentarily. He glanced around for a moment before walking forwards once more. Whatever may or may not have seemed in order, it was clear Airwave suspected something was up. Ironworks put his hand to his mouth as Airwave walked within a few steps of the fuel rig. "If it's damaged, why isn't it in the repair bay?" Airwave demanded. "Where are Stonecruncher and Excavator?"

"They aren't here!" Ironworks insisted.

Tote's hand raised itself to his head as he peered from the control tower into the murky darkness. He could hear every word. "Shut it, Ironworks!" He whispered to himself. "You're going to expose us!"

High Jump ignored Mudslinger's optics that he could practically feel burning into him looking for leadership and direction. He strained to see the inevitable conflict between Powertrain and Airwave. But Powertrain was big and strong and he had the advantage of surprise. He could surely overpower the Decepticon if it came to it. But time was short; it would surely not be long before the Battle Squad aircraft of Vanquish and Fireshot came by for another sweep of the base.

"I..." Ironworks began. "They aren't here. They-"

"Right here, boss!" Stonecruncher's voice came over the airwaves. Ironworks shook his head. This was not going to plan. Mudslinger all-but fired a reaction shot at the yellow Decepticon civilian emerged from the hanger, Excavator not far behind. Who else was in there? Wasn't it supposed to be just Roadhugger and Detour? High Jump ducked back behind the corner of the building and out of sight as Airwave took a step closer towards the fuel rig. Stonecruncher and Excavator walked over towards Airwave where he stood with just a fuel rig between him and the prone figure of Powertrain.

"What are they doing here?" High Jump growled to himself, recalling the recent construction work to the airfield he had observed just a few hours ago or so. He was angry that he had overlooked their potential presence. As Tote had told him, Blackjack had talked to Grit over the intercom while he was locked up inside the base. He should have made the connection. But if Stonecruncher and Excavator were here, where exactly were Sledge, Hammer, Grit and Knockout? Perhaps the Decepticons had taken to drafting civilians too? As if the Decepticons sought to answer his questions, Grit emerged from the front of the hanger alongside Roadhugger, all seemingly unaware that Mudslinger was stood on the overhead gantry just above their heads.

High Jump strained to hear their conversation, but could not make out the words. Airwave stood hands on hips, arguing with Grit, occasionally pointing at the fuel rig that should have been stowed securely, exactly where Powertrain had picked it up in the first place. Airwave could not have known this of course. Grit said something back to Airwave before calling for Stonecruncher, who walked over to the three of them, Excavator not far behind. Mudslinger continued to train his weapon on the head of Airwave who seemed to be the Decepticon taking charge. He strained to hear the conversation, words like 'fuel' and 'runway' amongst those he caught as well as 'special delivery' and 'construction'. Mudslinger shook his head as a bead or two of cooling fluid seeped down the side of his face. "This is not good." He whispered to himself as he stood just a few body lengths above the five arguing Decepticons Sledge, Hammer, Knockout exited the building, curiosity getting the better of them too.

"This is perfect." Powertrain whispered to himself making an altogether different appraisal of the situation. With the three Decepticons that were so perilously yet unwittingly close to him having marched back across the airfield, Powertrain slipped out-of-sight into the shadows and away from the danger area. Spotting Powertrain's otherwise hidden exit High Jump also took the opportunity to return to the side door. He knew that if he had seen him leave, then Tote surely had done too. And he also knew that though they had lost, potentially, some of the initiative they had hoped for, they still had the element of surprise. They had not closed the runway, but Powertrain could still blow the rig.

Indeed Tote seemed to have observed all that High Jump had seen too. He had noticed that all the Constructor Squad were present, six civilian Decepticons here possibly to undertake whatever construction work High Jump had seen evidence of. Then there was Roadhugger. With Blackjack and Hyperdrive out of action that left Detour unaccounted for. He was probably in the hangar still, keeping a watchful optic or two over the prisoners. Fireshot and Vanquish patrolling the skies and Meltdown and Half-track circling at ground level, that made twelve plus Airwave. Just what was he here for? In his summary, he checked the status of Direct Hit and Powerpunch. They were still out having not budged a micrometre. Thirteen was a few more than they had bargained for, but six of them were civilian so it was worth a shot. He told Ironworks to patch a silent order to Powertrain to detonate the fuel rig where it was. Perhaps it was close enough to the runway to prevent Vanquish and Fireshot landing after all? Ironworks understood. "Hit it!" he relayed.

The fuel rig exploded in a ball of frenzied flame with a wave of heat that could be felt across the airfield. Everyone standing in front of the hangar stopped instinctively, their hands momentarily thrown in front of their heads, Mudslinger included. As the fireball disipated into the air Mudslinger saw Airwave take charge once more. Screaming orders at Roadhugger, he slapped Grit across the face regaining his attention that had been captivated by the detonation. Roadhugger and Airwave produced their pistols and ran across the airfield, the Constructor Squad in tow.

Meanwhile, High Jump had taken advantage of the delayed distraction. Bringing his own pistol to hand, he kicked in the side door of the hangar and launched himself inside. Looking up, he found himself inside the dark building, the unmistakable figure of Detour standing in the middle of the expanse, his silhouette constrasting against the floodlit airstrip through the open door at the front of the hangar. Before Detour's head had so much time as to turn to face the source of the noise, High Jump had come down heavily on the back of his neck. The vital circuitry controlling a number of internal functions were severed and Detour's world went black. The yellow Decepticon's knees first fell limp and crashed to the floor before his upper body followed. It was not a killing blow, far from it, but it was sufficient to leave Detour out cold.

High Jump took a moment to glance up and down the warehouse once more. "Okay," he reported, "I'm in."

--

CHAPTER 20

"Direct-Hit!" Airwave radioed unwittingly to Ironworks. "What's going on?" The Decepticon's voice was crackly over the radiowaves, the intense interference from the storm seemingly epicentred over the airfield. Ironworks felt his circuits tingle as he tried to mimic the Decepticon soldier and report back to Airwave without giving the game away. His voice modulator seemed to be doing the trick, but at the back of his mind his concerns were ebbing away at what little confidence he had. He had data on their voice profiles, but not their vocabulary so while he might sound like one of the two Decepticons lying unconcious on the floor of the control tower, he might not necessarily be acting like them.

Airwave was demanding to know why the fuel rig had been moved out of position again. Ironworks tried to fob off the Decepticon by saying he would check the data logs and get back to him. "We have a few technical issues here," he lied, "possibly due to the electrical interference from the storm." Tote and High Jump listened in, trying to make out what it was Ironworks was saying to Airwave, but his voice kept breaking up and they found it increasingly difficult to hear. Even Ironworks with all the power of his communications base at hand was struggling with the link-up to Airwave via the control tower where Tote remained, still trying to work out how to open the gates to the airfield and allow Overload access inside.

The rain picked up and the howl of the wind was masked briefly a roar of thunder that dared to keep up an unforgiving flash of lightning that burst the sky micro-seconds earlier, illuminating Overload to anyone who cared to notice. Instinctively, the Autobot backed his transporter a litter further back into the shadows. Meltdown and Halftrack passed by, apparently unaware that the Autobot was hiding just outside the gate of their perimeter patrol path. "Come on!" he whispered to himself, pools of rainwater starting to collect around his wheels in the deep trenches his vehicle form had carved through the leaked sludge of a damaged drain. Something had to have gone wrong.

Tote looked out from his vantage point in the tower. That was a close one. The lightning bolt crashed so loudly it must have struck the ground somewhere nearby. Peering through the rain that lashed down almost horizontally in the storm he saw Airwave and Roadhugger standing over the burning fuel rig, their disturbing figures lighting up once more under the flash of another streak of lightning. As another flash crashed nearby, through the strobe, Tote could make out the Constructor Squad arriving with foam tanks to put out the burning fuel. He heard the attempted communication between Ironworks and Airwave, but the radio was suffering so badly with static interference, conversation was impossible. With another quick check that the two Decepticons under his feet were still out for the count, he returned his focus to the controls for the gate. He went to click a button, but before his digit stuck the console, the lights in the control tower went dead and a number of display terminals turned black. "Woah!" he stammered to himself his hands in the air as if protesting his premeditated innocence over some soon-to-be executed offence.

Outside, the huge blue flash very much caught Mudslinger's attention. Although he did not see it, he certainly felt what happened. Next to his vantage point above the hangar door he saw that the lightning bolt had struck the small substation, the adjacent building. Sparks flew as the grid overloaded and erupted in a ball of smoke and flame, the surprise and force of the explosion nearly sending the Autobot over the edge of the gantry. Roadhugger and the Constructor Squad stopped in their tracks and Airwave clasped his hands over his face with surprise and anger. The Decepticons shouted a few orders at each other for a few seconds before splitting up. Stonecruncher and Excavator continued to fight the blaze on the runway while their remaining teammates headed over to the substation to assess the damage from the lightning strike.

Emergency lighting illuminated the control tower once more and Tote looked around to see what equipment was still working. A console or two repowered and started to boot while others remained as disabled as the two Decepticon soldiers at his feet. He ducked once more as the explosive shape of Fireshot and Vanquish's aircraft mode flew by again. Another blue flash in the air lit up the airfield once more. He saw Roadhugger transform into his sports racer mode and dart over in the direction of the control tower. "Damn it!" Tote whispered to himself, returning his attention to the controls. Whatever happened next, he had to get the gates open so Overload to enter the compound.

Inside the hangar High Jump made haste. Skipping over a supply crate or two he bounded to its rear and to the small office. It had been converted and made more secure, its windows blackened and bolted shut and the door augmented with a heavier duty lock. He stood back to the wall, his head shifting briefly to reconfirm he was alone. He was. With the finger of one hand wrapped firmly over the trigger of his pistol, his other hand skirted its way around the frame of the door. It was shut fast, there was no escaping that. Switching to thermal imaging, High Jump observed four strong heat signals from within the room, undoubtably the familiar shape of secure energon bonds that he had been on the wrong side of on many an occasion. With one last check, High Jump put away his pistol and ejected the hook of his winch mechanism. Securing it to the door, he transformed into his truck mode and threw down his power.

With a screech of tyres and plumes of smoke, High Jump revved with all his might, the door finally bursting wide open. After he had applied his brakes and stopped himself flying into the wall, High Jump transformed once more and charged for the doorway, pistol first. The small, grey Autobot hurled himself through the doorway to find the four Autobot soldiers slumped lifelessly against the rear wall, their arms hanging limply behind their backs.

High Jump skated over to Slow Poke, the nearest of the quartet and lifted his head. "Found them." He reported over the radio. "But they look like they are in bad shape." He quickly examined the incapacitated robot. His vital signs were functioning, although his energon conversion unit had been put into temporary stasis. He radioed Ironworks to get a defibrillator ready to kick start their convertors and allow them to function fully once more. A quick check on the other captives revealed all four were of the same condition. "My fault." High Jump admitted. "If I handn't escaped, they probably wouldn't have roughed them up so bad." The energon bonds that had cuffed the four of them had long since burned out, the tell-tale marks of burned paint finish on their arms and the heat still eminating from their wrists offering little such doubt. "Where's Overload?"

Ironworks picked up the thread. "Any minute." He revealed having found the controls to the gates. "Once Meltdown and Halftrack have completed there next pass of the perimeter we'll have that door open. Overload?" He called over the radio.

"I'm ready." He replied from outside the compound. "Just tell me when."

"Keep your optics on him Ironworks!" High Jump ordered. "Let me know if you see anything on their serveillance cameras. Remember," he warned, "they can see anything you can see."

Ironworks nodded, somewhat out of sight from the rest of the Autobots. The electrical interference made it difficult to hear the latter part of his conversation with High Jump and Overload, but he filled in the blanks and readied himself. "Yeah," He confirmed, "I-" He interupted himself. It was Airwave. He had ordered Roadhugger over to the control tower to see what was the problem with Powerpunch and Direct-Hit. "Oh shoot." He whispered to himself. "Tote!" He called over the intercom once more.

"What the Hell?" Roadhugger muttered to himself, peering through the window of the control tower. Out of sight, and unaware the Decepticon was mere metres from him, albeit on the other side of the door, Tote continued to work on the console, trying to figure out the gate controls. What was in Roadhugger's sight, however was the unconscious body of Powerpunch lying on the floor. Instinctively, he drew his pistol and pressed the door control which opened just a small way. The power to the door had clearly failed along with the power to most of the airfield, and its motors had stored enough energy to open it barely a metre, not nearly enough for Roadhugger's ample frame to squeeze through.

The stutter of the door was enough time for Tote to react. He grabbed his pistol and turned around to see the Decepticon ripping open the rest of the door and powering his way through the doorframe. "Well, smelt me down and call me Primus!" Roadhugger spat, barely able to believe his own optics that Tote was back on his turf. "You!" In an instant their respective pistols were raised, each robot aiming squarely at his opponent. "Put down your weapon!" Roadhugger demanded, his optics burning through his visor into those of his Autobot adversary.

Tote shrugged and suggested the same of Roadhugger. "It's over, Roadhugger," he explained to the Decepticon's dismay, "I've got backup."

Roadhugger smirked. "What? And you think I don't?" he laughed. Who the Hell did Tote think he was? Bursting in his airfield and giving orders. He said as much: "Where the Hell do you think you are? Take a look around you." He suggested. "This ain't some cushy Autobot bar, Tote, this is a fraggin' military installation." He smiled. "There are more Decepticons here than on a 'Bot hunt on Smelting Day." Each robot took his turn to sidestep in a circular formation, their right arms supporting their protruding weapons, their left arm feeling outwards for balance. "Admit it, Autobot," he growled, "this is the second time in two days I've captured you." Tote said nothing. "Put down your weapon!" He demanded once more in reply to his opponent's silence. "Put it down and I might not kill you!"

Tote smiled. "You die first. You got that?" He asked, maintaining his stance and undeterred by Roadhugger's tone. "Your 'backup' might come to pump me full of pellets, but not before I blast your ugly face into orbit."

Roadhugger scowled. "We should have killed you when we had the chance."

"Yeah," Tote nodded, "you probably should have." he smiled. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing." He quoted from some source or another. "But you're lucky you have any sight. I could pop a shot right between your optics."

Roadhugger smiled as he took another sidestep, barely acknowledging Powerpunch's body on which he now stood. "Go ahead." He dared, "but you try that and I'll wipe that smile off your face faster than you could say 'laserhead.'" Tote tried to remain defiant, but both robots knew as well as each other that neither of them were about to break the deadlock. The duo completed their circular movement and they were about to start a second lap when Tote let out.

Without making any sudden movements he felt his confident grin relax and lowered his weapon. Roadhugger smiled. "Finally." He nodded. "You know when you're beaten." Roadhugger beamed with satisfaction.

Tote nodded. "I know when I'm beaten." He concurred with a grin. "It's a shame you won't know what hit you!" Roadhugger's optics narrowed for a microsecond as if he felt something was wrong. "Say 'hi' to 'Jack from me."

As his world turned black, Roadhugger now knew that there was indeed something wrong. The clenched double fist of Powertrain's overhead strike came down heavily on the back of the Decepticon's head causing him to drop his pistol and crash to the floor. Tote nodded with satisfaction. "Thanks." He offered as Powertrain knelt down beside his victim. "I was wondering when you were about to strike!" He smiled, recalling the microsecond or two that seemed like a lifetime or two when Powertrain stood in the doorway readying himself to hit the Decepticon.

The tall, orange Autobot nodded in acknowledgement, but wasted no time. "So what's the deal with Airwave?" he asked. "Is he the 'big thing' the Decepticons were talking about?" Airwave's arrival at the airfield, as well as the presence of the civilian Constructor Squad was unexpected, but Tote quashed Powertrain's thoughts.

"I doubt it." Tote suggested. "Airwave is a failed spy; he's nothing." Powertrain shrugged, accepting that Tote was unquestioningly better informed than himself. He helped Tote drag Roadhugger's body from the doorway and put it on top of Direct-Hit and Powerpunch. The robotic cairne of Decepticons was starting to pile up. "Whatever it is that is coming, I think it has something to do with Flattop coming because what the 'Cons said earlier implied Flattop was coming on an unrelated mission and that transporting POWs back to Polyhex was going to be a coincidence." Tote paused, and looked back at the console. "Keep an optic out for me. I don't need any more 'Cons sneaking up on me." Powertrain nodded once more and looked out over the airfield.

"Where's Overload?" Powertrain asked no-one in particular. The gates were still not open despite Ironworks' confirmation that the controls had been found.

Ironworks sat dejectedly at his controls. Security was higher than expected, and most of his efforts went responselessly. But after most of his attempts to access the Decepticons' systems had been fruitless, he had finally found the controls to the gate. However, for whatever reason, he could not unlock the doors, possibly down to an error by Tote in his installation of a data re-router to patch him into the Decepticons' control tower, but more likely down to the massive power surge and subsequent systems reboot. Despite his repeated efforts to call into Tote and High Jump, he was unable to get the message through. The electrical intereference and the massive power surge had fried most of his channels and sat helplessly unable to assist his fellow Autobots.

Panic swept over him as he considered that perhaps Roadhugger had overpowered Tote. He saw from the cameras he had made it to the control tower but he had been unable to warn him. And what of Powertrain? Somehow he had given them all the slip once the fuel rig had exploded. His friend and partner was supposed to be a construction worker, not a soldier. He sat cursing to himself, swearing that if anything had happened to him, High Jump and Tote would pay. All he could do was sit and watch the few remaining Decepticon security cameras dotted around the airfield and hope that Tote found the controls himself.

He did. Eventually.

The few seconds between broadcast and the gates swinging open felt more like a few hours, but finally Overload could engage his gears. Plumes of slush from the overflowing drains that engulfed his tyres flew into the air as his wheels spun. As he regulated his throttle, he finally caught the traction he needed before lerching forward and charging headlong into the airfield.

As Overload passed by the base of the control tower, Powertrain pointed across the runway. "Airwave just ran inside that small building." Tote strained through the night-time gloom to see what the red and white Decepticon was doing. This one-time member of the Air Strike Patrol had been kicked out of that group for his lack of covert awareness. His actions were usually so obvious Tote should not need to stop and stare, but this time he seemed to have outdone him. "What's he up to?" Tote wondered to himself. "Ironworks-" Tote called in, "you getting anything?"

Ironworks felt a wave of relief at the first contact in what seemed like hours but was in fact a matter of minutes. Never had such a shrouded, static noise offered such hope. There was a short pause. "Yeah, I'm getting something alright." He confessed, his head shaking a little in dispair. "In fact, I'm getting everything." Ironworks' fingers danced across his console, switching his way through countless data feeds, absorbing as much of the situation as his CPU could handle. "Something's coming."

"Ironworks?" Tote demanded through the interference, the voice of his Autobot comrade disappearing into the static.

The yellow Autobot sat back on his chair, a hand of concern covering his mouth that was slightly ajar, fingers stroking the screen. The big object neared the airfield. "Something's coming," He repeated to himself as the blip honed in before splitting into two, "something big."

--

CHAPTER 21

As Overload reached the hangar High Jump ordered him to transform and help load the four unconcious bodies into his trailer while Mudslinger remainded on the gantry outside as lookout. The interference due to the electrical storm picked up further and communication with Ironworks became rapidly diminished. "Damn!" High Jump cursed as he failed to get a response. "Ironworks, if you can hear me - because I can't hear you - tell Tote and Powertrain to join the convoy in three minutes."

"What happened?" Overload asked easing Big Hauler into his trailer. "We were all set, but then someone else arrived."

"Yeah," High Jump acknowledged, almost throwning Slow Poke in with his teammate, "Airwave happened. I don't know what he's doing here, or why we have the Constructor Squad-"

"Speaking of which!" Mudslinger interupted, leaping from the gantry and hopping inside. "Here they come!"

In the distance, High Jump observed the Constructor Squad had finished attending the burning fuel rig and were headed their way. "Quick!" he ordered Overload. "Get them aboard!" He produced his pistol and called for Mudslinger to prepare to engage the civilians if necessary. The two Autobots knelt down behind some forgotten equipment lying dormant in the doorway of the hangar, their pistols primed and pointing into the dark, stormy night. "Just keep it calm, Muds," High Jump ordered with a whisper, "because this is inside enemy territory, remember, not some no-bots-land on the Front Line."

Mudslinger nodded, feeling his fingers flex instinctively tighter around his weapon. Normally, this close to an enemy would result in a firefight. However, behind enemy lines meant it prudent to stay hidden and avoid such conflict for as long as possible, or even altogther if the situation permit. As it happened, the luxury of a conflictless encounter eroded immediately. "Too late," Mudslinger observed as the six Decepticons came to a halt, leaping behind airfield lighting systems, loading cranes and supply crates, "we've been rumbled!"

Were it not for the raging storm, at such close range they would have heard the Decepticons screaming to Airwave that they had unwanted Autobots inside their compound. As it was, the interference that had plagued the Autobots' communications was now hampering the Decepticons. Grit threw his radio to the ground in disgust and called his team to produce their weapons.

"Wait!" High Jump warned. "Don't open fire."

Mudslinger nodded, but was still a little unsure. "So what happens?" he asked. "We just leave?"

High Jump nodded in reciprocation. "Yeah," he replied, "if they don't want fight, then that suits us fine." High Jump explained. "Because right now if they can't get through to Airwave, then Airwave doesn't know we are here."

"And it also means that pain in the sky doesn't know we are here either." Mudslinger smiled, referring to Vanquish and Fireshot with a nod into the stormy night sky.

"Exactly," High Jump finished, "so all we need to do-" The laser fire interupted him. It seemed the Decepticons had decided to take matters into their own hands. "Too late!" High Jump screamed. "Cover's blown! Overload, get out of here!" High Jump ordered. "We'll cover you!" he finished turning to face Mudslinger. Overload nodded and transformed into his vehicle mode and hooked himself up to his trailer. With a powerful rev of his engine, Overload threw himself into some sort of driving mode and pulled off. Mudslinger and High Jump turned their collective attention to the Constructor Squad who had emerged a little closer to the warehouse, weapons ablaze. The two Autobots appeared from behind their makeshift cover as Overload revved away. Set to stun, the Autobots fired their pistols at the six Decepticon civilians whose weapons, conversely, were not set to stun. Glancing over his shoulder, High Jump assessed that Overload was not moving nearly fast enough. Perhaps he had underestimated his speed, or rather lack of it.

"Damn it!" Mudslinger cussed, interupting his thought process. "I keep hitting them but these damn stun guns have no fragging effect on them!" He continued, fiddling with his pistol's settings. "How do you turn up the wick on this thing?" He screamed over the noise of the gunfire, his weapon rattling under his heavy-handedness. "Ah, frag it - we should just nuke the lot of them." He mumbled.

"That's not how it works!" High Jump reminded him, his arm protruding from a small gap and shooting at his assailants. "Apparently we're Autobots and that means we don't kill." Mudslinger grimaced. That was simply unfair. "Hey," High Jump sensed the annoyance. "I didn't write the rules!" The two Autobots continued to trade fire with the Decepticon construction engineers. Although they seemed hopelessly outnumbered, they held the upper hand. The Decepticons had been drafted only recently and without training their shots were often wayward. Mudslinger was straight out of the Autobot armed forces. He and Hydraulic had often found themselves in a ground support role to the Battle Patrol, and High Jump was also an old hand at this. "All we have to do is wait for an opening and-"

High Jump was cut short as a live round of ammunition ricocheted into his left upper-arm. "Ugh!" He spat. "Damn it!" He clutched at the wound instinctively. "God damned acid-tipped!" He screamed as he fumbled to retrieve the painful shrapnel from his person. Finally he flicked the intruding object from his arm before it had the chance to disolve any more of his armour. Mudslinger dropped his pistol and ripped open a medikit, dousing the wound with an alkaline neutraliser. "Agh!" High Jump growled, his free hand tightening around edge of the the crate he was hiding behind in an effort to control the pain.

"Okay," Mudslinger called, tying the swab to High Jump's arm and pulling out the rifle he had stowed in his cargo hold, "now we do it my way!" Mudslinger demanded, pointing a thumb at his chest. High Jump cast him a knowing glance that reminded him that he was supposed to have left that behind, but the relief was scarcely shrouded owing to his permissive nod. "Live ammo." He grinned, with an unnecessary but menacing click of the weapon. As laser shots and small arms fire sparked and zapped around their makeshift shelter, Mudslinger stood up tall, his rifle aloft and pointing confidently into the night. The six Decepticons' idea of shelter was far from textbook. For all their attempts to play soldier, they were relatively exposed. Two triple-bursts of Mudslinger's powerful armour-piercing rounds penetrated Excavator's chest sending the Decepticon into the air, arms and legs sprawling before crashing in a heap. In a continuous sweep, the Autobot soldier fired a burst into Knockout's prone body, additional rounds striking Sledge in the leg.

"Primus!" High Jump exhalted, his optics peering over their defenses at the sight. "You don't have to actually kill them!"

Mudslinger ducked back down again. "Nah!" He shook his head. "Where's the fun in that?" A twisted smile broke over his face. "I want to see them suffer first, writhe around in agony." High Jump smiled uneasily recalling his assessment of Mudslinger. He was right; he was a psycho. At least he was on the Autobots' side though and not a 'Con. The two Autobots popped their heads back over the barricade. The Decepticon attention was well and truly switched to their wounded. Stonecruncher knelt over Excavator trying to assess the damage to his partner who was screaming in pain. Mudslinger raised his rifle once more and lined his sights upon Stonecruncher.

"Hey!" High Jump screamed, pulling at Mudslinger's weapon. "What are you doing?" He screamed, a fist clenched tightly around the barrel, forcing the weapon to point at the ground. "You don't shoot medics!" High Jump shook his head in disbelief. "Primus! Is that what they teach soldiers these days?"

Mudslinger shook his head. "No. You don't shoot medics," Mudslinger growled pointing at High Jump before sharply pulling the nuzzle of his rifle from High Jump's grasp with a powerful tug, "but I do!" Mudslinger took to his feet and quickly shot five or so individual rounds at his enemies, one of them hitting Stonecruncher in the back as he tried to tend to Excavator, another striking his arm. "I shoot anything with a Decepticon insignia!" He bellowed as if somehow they might actually hear him. He was taking far too much enjoyment out of this. He was big and strong and it took guts to pull him back, but High Jump knew this was their opportunity to leave and they had to take it.

"Come on!" He demanded, taking to his feet and pulling at Mudslinger's arm. He was was still screaming at the Decepticons like some primative beast as Grit and Hammer transformed into their tractor and trailer modes respectively forming a makeshift transporter unit. Sledge threw the aching bodies of Excavator, Stonecruncher and Knockout into the hopper of his partner's trailer mode as Mudslinger switched to full-auto mode on his rifle. Running backwards away from the scene he emptied out his magazine of rounds at the prone Decepticons, Grit hauling Hammer away, a couple of shots bouncing into the side of Sledge as he transformed painfully into his truck mode to follow Grit and Hammer.

"Woo-hoo!" Mudslinger screamed as his weapon finally gave out, firing a grenade into the distance in their general direction for good measure. "Come on!" he bellowed in self-satisfaction. "Take that you-"

"No! You come on!" High Jump repeated forcefully, transforming into his vehicle mode. "We have to go!"

The two Autobots quickly caught up to Overload's slow transporter. Under the weight of his cargo, he had covered little of distance between the far end of the airfield and the gates at the other. "Come on!" Mudslinger demanded of his former business partner. "You're going to get us killed!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Overload replied angrily. Mudslinger was about to reply when the air was shattered by an overhead boom bearing down the runway towards the gates. The enormous green transporter aircraft appeared, plumes of tyre smoke and droplets of settled rainwater spraying into the air as its wheels touched down with an aggressive screech. "Woah!" Overload screamed as the transporter wing came within inches of clipping his trailer. The strength of the turbulent air briefly lifted the enormous weight of the trailer from its wheels. It was for just a moment, but as his instincts took over, Overload swerved from the runway, his trailer jack-knifing on the slippery surface. As his rear end turned and overtook his cab, Overload was sent into a spin completing a seven-twenty before flipping into a barrel-rolling crash. The force of the impact with control tower was enough to cause his truck mode to disconnect wildly from his trailer.

High Jump and Mudslinger drew to a halt, transforming and rushing towards the Autobot. Overload transformed and rubbed his head. Using all his strength, Mudslinger turned the trailer back onto his wheels while High Jump assessed Overload. "Ah," he stammered, "that hurt!" He winced, trying to straighten his legs.

"Can you walk?" High Jump asked. Overload nodded and explained he could walk and probably transform too without a problem.

"I just don't think I'll be able to haul my trailer." He concluded, revealing that coupling components used to hook up his cab mode to his trailer had been torn painfully from their sockets. High Jump looked over at Mudslinger who had opened the rear of the trailer. His face reappeared from inside with a thumbs-up and indicating that the four unconscious Autobot POWs were still alive, if not well.

High above the crash, neither Tote nor Powertrain had registered the collision between their tower and Overload. Their attention was taken by the second aircraft, another enormous transporter, that flew in behind. "What is it?" Powertrain asked Tote, a little stunned by the two Decepticons who had just arrived.

"That's Flattop." High Jump whispered to Mudslinger who had unwittingly asked the same question. From his hiding place in the shadows beneath the tower, High Jump nodded towards the end of the runway at the large aircraft, painted in a deep, dark red. "Or rather, that's his transport aircraft. But I don't know who's been piloting the first one." High Jump activated his head up display through his visor and zoomed in on the windows. Indeed, Flattop was at the controls. He panned to the right until the green aircraft came into view and saw an unpleasant surprise. "Oh shoot." He spat. A familiar robot form leapt from the cockpit of the green aircraft as the cargo doors of Flattop's transporter opened.

"What?" Mudslinger demanded as a brilliant blue flash of lightning lit up the sky once more. "What is it? Who is it?"

High Jump's visor retracted, his head shaking a little in disbelief. This was supposed to be a simple smash and grab raid. But now the plan had been well and truly torn up. "It's Roughstuff." High Jump observed, Mudslinger turning his face towards High Jump. Roughstuff was a hardened military veteran, triggerhappy and menacing. "It looks like he's the proud new owner of that thing." High Jump nodded at the large aircraft he had been piloting. "But he's not the problem." Mudslinger looked back into the night again and peered at the figures emerging from Flattop's transporter.

"I don't recognise them." Mudslinger commented, his optics straining in the dark.

"I do." he whispered, almost to himself. What had they walked in on? With the presence of these guys, the ante had been raised considerably. High Jump's face turned to Mudslinger. "And they make the Battle Squad look like toys."

Mudslinger's mouth dropped at the prospect. "Who are they?" he asked as three armoured vehicles drove out of Flattop's transport aircraft.

High Jump grimaced. What had started as bad news was headed for a utter disaster of monumental proportions. "They're our worst nightmare." he concurred with himself. "And they're called the Military Patrol."

--

CHAPTER 22

"Oh my God." Tote murmered almost to himself as the four Decepticon soldiers emerged from Flattop's giant transport aircraft. "Oh my God. Oh my God!" He continued to blaspheme. Powertrain took a step closer and peered into the night, trying to recognise the dark figures. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tote pre-empted him. "These guys are the real deal." He explained. "These guys don't take prisoners. These guys shoot to kill. And they shoot a lot."

"I guess that means they kill a whole lot then." Powertrain concluded. Tote nodded. "What the Hell have we gotten ourselves into?" He asked. Tote looked back and shook his head.

"I don't know." Tote replied. "But this is a whole lot more than transporting a few POWs." Powertrain nodded. "Come on," Tote ordered, "let's get out of here." With that, the two Autobots bounded down the steps to see their colleagues in disarray. "What happened?"

High Jump shook his head. "Bad news." He revealed. "Overload's down."

"I'm not down." Overload objected. "I'm just-"

"Can you haul your trailer?" Mudslinger asked ironically, banging his hand heavily on the rear doors he had just slammed shut. Overload shook his head. "Well then, I guess that makes you a liability." He snorted.

Tote looked at Powertrain. "Powertrain," he began as the orange Autobot started to transform, "can you-"

"Already on it." He replied, reverting to truck mode and hooking up to Overload's trailer.

"Yeah?" High Jump asked looking over at the far end of the airfield and the growing Decepticon party that blocked their path to the gate. "Well, you better make it quick because otherwise-"

"Forget it." Tote interupted, shaking his head. "We need a new route out of here. We'll never get by them."

"What choice do we have?" Mudslinger objected.

Powertrain revved his engine. "Am I going, or what?" At that moment, combined form of Fireshot and Vanquish flew overhead once more in their jet mode reminding them they were still not safe.

High Jump shook his head. "No." He conceded, agreeing with Tote. "We'll never out-run them." He jerked his head back towards the hangar where they had picked up the Monster Trucks. Tote nodded. "Let's double back and try to figure out a way out of this mess." He transformed and led Powertrain, who hauled Overload's trailer, with the others bringing up the rear.

"You go on," Tote hesitated, "I just want to see..." his voice tailed off. He peered into the gloom over the length of the airfield. He activated his head-up display and optical zoom lenses, scanning the distance. He observed the two other Battle Squad members in their combined vehicle form drive by the gates beyond the two Decepticon transporters. However, it was the green transporter that took his attention. With Bombshock, Dropshot and Growl in their assault vehicle modes between the runway and the transporter, Roughstuff emerged from the warehouse with Airwave and walked over to his aircraft, which, to Tote's surprise, began to transform.

With the grace and elegance of any master of metallic origami, the transporter aircraft reverted into a trailer mode. Roughstuff himself transformed into a truck. It seemed Overload was not the only robot with a transporter aircraft mode that reverted to a trailer. Roughstuff's alternate mode had been modified from its previous form as an armoured assault vehicle, much in the vain of Growl, to a tractor unit ideal for hauling his enormous trailer. But it was not this modification that interested Tote, it was the payload protruding from the trailer's open frame. "That's two, big fraggin' missiles." Tote observed.

He transformed and raced to catch up with the others who had taken hold inside the warehouse where the Monster Trucks had been held and still housed the incapacitated form of Detour. High Jump rubbed his aching arm as a snap of pain winced around his wound. "Anything?" Tote asked. High Jump had been trying to get hold of Ironworks.

High Jump shook his head. "No." He explained, adding that the interference left communication impossible. "But I did see a beaten up party of Decepticon construction workers skirting around the far side of the base though." He gestured with the wave of an arm. Mudslinger smiled to himself in rememberance of his handiwork. "Must be headed back to the safety of numbers." Tote nodded. "You?" High Jump asked.

Tote nodded and explained what he saw. "It seems Roughstuff has taken up gun-running." He speculated. "He's got about enough explosives to blow up Iacon!"

"And what's he doing with them?" High Jump asked.

"Nothing." Tote explained, peering out of the window across the airfield towards the other hangar and control tower. "He just hauled his trailer into that far warehouse with Airwave." He finished by reporting that the Military Patrol were just holding station on guard outside.

"I don't like it." High Jump pondered. "What is it they're doing over there?"

"Why don't they come over and attack us?" Mudslinger demanded impatiently. "You scared of getting your butts kicked?" He yelled with futility against the storm, his fingers flexing around his rifle.

"Maybe they don't want to risk it." Powertrain suggested, glancing down at Detour's inactive body. "We have a hostage, of sorts."

High Jump shook his head and Tote smiled. He knew as well as High Jump that the Miltary Patrol were comfortable with the concept of collateral damage. Whenever it was they chose to attack, Detour would be expendable. "Whatever it is, they don't regard attacking us, or saving Detour, as a priority."

Tote sighed. "No," he agreed, "whatever it is they are doing, 'it's big.'" he recalled of the description they had given the news pilfered from the border office they had ransacked yesterday. "A whole lot bigger than transporting a couple of Autobots to Polyhex." He reiterated.

"Yeah," High Jump added, "and when they've finished doing whatever it is they are doing you can be sure they're going to come over here and blast us into next year."

"Well let's get out of here then." Powertrain insisted. Tote shook his head; it was not going to be that easy. While the Military Patrol may have been across the base with Airwave, Roughstuff and the remnants of the Constructor Squad, there was still Fireshot and Vanquish flying overhead patrolling the skies not to mention the additional support of Flattop, as well as Meltdown and Halftrack who were still holding up by the gate. As Tote deliberated on this, he knew as well as the Decepticons they had nowhere to go. They were cornered and there was not a chance in Hell they were going to drive out of this place alive, not encumbered by the four Autobot soldiers they had come to rescue.

"The only way out is the way we came in: over that wall." High Jump nodded to the fence over which they had climbed into the compound. "And they know we can't climb it with these guys incapacitated." He explained, referring to the four unconcious Autobots still in Overload's trailer.

"And they know as well as we do that we won't leave anyone behind." Tote explained.

"Which effectively leaves us under house arrest." High Jump concluded. "They know we're not going anywhere. They can bide their time."

Tote agreed. "And if we try to leave here through the gates, the convoy will be torn apart," he explained. "as they have complete aerial superiority over a slow-moving convoy." He voice trailed off, his face of concern being replaced by a smile as a thought struck him.

High Jump smiled too, as if reading his mind, the chemistry of their partnership making itself evident once more. "We can't shoot them down." He smiled with a nod of deliberation. "Overload, can you still pilot your transporter?" Overload nodded but said nothing. "Right. Transform your trailer into its transporter aircraft mode and, Mudslinger, you get on-board with-" High Jump stopped himself mid-sentance. That was never going to work. As if speaking as one, Tote realised the problem and took over.

"Powertrain, you get on-board with Overload and get out of here." Tote completed High Jump's sentance. The other Autobots looked dumbstruck. Not ten seconds ago they had explained the Decepticons' superior aerial abilities. Now they were suggesting they flew out of the airfield?

"You've got to be kidding!" Overload objected as the combined Decepticon aircraft form of Fireshot and Vanquish flew overhead once more. "He'll knock me straight out of the sky!"

"He's right." Powertrain nodded. "I can act as a gunner for him, but Overload's transporter is not a patch on that Decepticon's speed and maneouverabilty."

"I know." High Jump nodded. "That's why we're going to use our secret weapon on him." He smiled, clasped his hand firmly onto Mudslinger's shoulder. "You think you can burn rubber back to the Forlan Delta?"

"And how exactly will I shoot him down before he shoots them down?" He asked with a nod towards Powertrain and Overload.

"You don't." Tote explained, picking up the thread. "The Forlan Delta will do that for you."

Mudslinger's mouth opened and he looked over at Overload for support. He shrugged in reply. Whatever Tote and High Jump's plan was, it was beyond him. "Trust me." High Jump explained passing him a data cube with a map through the Delta. "Just get yourself here and get Vanquish to follow you."

Mudslinger's mouth closed before opening once more. "Just do it!" Tote ordered, turning to face Overload. "And you get ready to haul your tailpipe into the air as soon as the coast is clear."

"Hey, Muds," High Jump finished, "leave your rifle." Tote turned to face his partner with a knowing look.

Mudslinger looked angry. "Why?" He complained. "You going to repremand me for bringing it on the mission?"

Tote shook his head. "No," he confessed, "I just think we might need it." High Jump nodded at his partner's assessment. Espionage was supposed to be a silent game, but with the introduction of the Military Patrol things had gotten a whole lot noisier. Mudslinger left his weapon and transformed into his powerful off-road monster truck mode.

Powertrain smiled as he finally 'got' the plan, or at least the first half of the plan anyway. "And what are you guys going to do?" he asked, speaking for the three of them, unsure what the unpredictable pair's next move.

"We'll cover you from here." High Jump explained. "Muds will only draw Fireshot and Vanquish away. We have to make sure Flattop and Airwave can't take off or you'll be history." He finished emotionlessly. Powertrain's optics widened a little as he turned to face Overload. "Don't worry." High Jump added. "Our job is as good as done. Do as we say and we'll have got these deadbeats out of here in no time." He glanced at the four Autobot soldiers laying slumped in Overload's trailer. "We've got a new priority now."

"And what's that?" Powertrain stammered.

"I'm surprised you had to ask." Tote replied, a little taken-aback. He pointed towards both the hangar across the airfield and the control tower. "We're going to check that out and see what's so special it takes a military escort and a fifty tonnes of the nastiest-looking hardware we've seen for a while."

--

CHAPTER 23

"How the frag did I get into all this?" Ironworks mumbled to himself, crawling under his workstation, wires and cables dangling from his console. As the rain lashed relentlessly over his communications bay, some distance away from the Decepticon airfield, the civilian Autobot found himself knee-deep in electrical equipment that he was trying to force to talk to each other. As he fiddled with the wires, his fingers twitched with nervous axiety barely able to make the connections fasten. "Come on!" He spat to himself. "Get a grip!"

For all he knew, his friend Powertrain and his new lunatic colleagues, were dead. He had heard next to nothing but static since the enormous power-outage at the airfield. He was fairly convinced it was due to the electrical storm, but as his systems that were supposed to be hooked up to the Decepticons' base were relaying empty signals, it was all simply a guess. "There!" he finished to himself, crawling back onto his seat and resetting a console.

The reboot took mere seconds, but each moment that passed felt like a lifetime. but finally the screens burst into life and Ironworks' whooped with delight. Hooking up to Tote's direct line to Countdown and Autobase, Ironworks had hacked together a relay communication and had retaken control of the Decepticon airfield. Now, he needed to find out what had happened to High Jump and the others, and mostly importantly, to Powertrain.

"I'm back online!" He announced to the others, the relief clear for all to hear. The news hit High Jump like a shot to the gut.

"Oh shoot." He whispered. "You hear that?" he asked.

Tote nodded, his mouth dropping open, but said nothing. Ironworks continued: "The electrical blast knocked me out but I got control of the tower again!"

Tote's mouth snapped shut again as he realised what had happened. "Ironworks?" He asked. "Goddamnit! Turn that voice modulator off!" He cried. "I thought it was Direct-Hit!" Ironworks looked down at his console. He was right. The voice filter he used trick Airwave was still activated. "You made my fuel-pump miss a beat or two there!"

High Jump refocussed their attention and peered through the sights of the rifle giving him a better view of the other hanger across the airfield. "They're watching us." He observed, waving a hand across the length of the runway to Flattop who peered back at them through a telescopic lens.

"They're watching us watching them." Tote added.

"And we're watching them watching us watching them." High Jump smiled. This game could have gone on all night. "And they're still waiting and still unloading those missiles." He added more seriously.

"Guys," Ironworks panicked, "there's someone else in there."

"Who?" Tote asked, mentally trying to account for the Decepticons they had seen. They knew the Constructor Squad was back inside

"I don't know - I don't recognise him." Ironworks lamented himself. He was a civilian Transformer; how was he supposed to know who else was there? He knew the Constructor Squad from years gone by. He and Powertrain had even worked with them on civilian construction projects eons before the war. While he knew who Flattop and Airwave were, soldiers like Roughstuff and the Sports Car Patrol were names and faces new to him. The hardened veterans of the Battle Squad had somehow found their way into his memory banks, and so when it came to mimicking their voices to Airwave, he managed a reasonable job. But the Military Patrol and its new additions were simply beyond him. "But there's more - this whole base," Ironworks explained, "it's alive!"

"What do you mean, alive?" High Jump quizzed over the intercom, trying to get a fix on the Military Patrol's companion. High Jump was met with one of Ironworks' outburts of arkward silence. "Talk to me Ironworks!"

"It's... I don't know!" Ironworks stammered. "But it's a transformer reading alright." he confirmed.

"Are you sure it's not just the 'new guy?'" Tote asked.

"No!" Ironworks insisted. "It's too big. It's the base, it has to be!"

High Jump turned to Tote. "He's cracking up. I knew he would."

Tote shook his head in dispair, before returning to focus on the operations of the Decepticons. "Look," he suggested, "let's just get Overload out of here! Agreed?" High Jump nodded and called Overload and Powertrain into position.

Tote grabbed the rifle and looked through the sights. "Hey!" he called excitedly as Overload's transporter aircraft burst through the doors and onto the runway. "I see him!"

"Who is it?" High Jump asked, his optics straining through the gloom. The mysterious black Decepticon, strong and well-built, stood alongside Airwave, Roughstuff and the walking wounded of the Constructor Squad who were overseeing the removal of the huge missiles from the transporter unit. Flattop had clearly alerted them of the Autobots' movement and while Airwave bellowed orders, the tall black Decepticon had taken a few steps forward and out of the warehouse.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Tote screamed to himself. "Primus!" He blasphemed, looking down into the ground towards the centre of the planet where legend had it the deity rested. "Why won't you give us one goddamned lousy fraggin' break, huh?" He spat in dispair. "Is that too much to fraggin' ask?"

"What is it?" High Jump demanded. "Who is it?" He clarified the question, snatching the rifle and looking down its sights. The Decepticon solider transformed into a sleek, black battle helicopter and flew out of the hangar. It was High Jump's turn for blasphomy. "Oh Primus..." he whispered as he finally recognised the Decepticon for himself. "How long has Tracer been with that outfit?" he asked, putting the name to the Decepticon.

"Beats me." Tote shrugged. To their prior knowledge, the Military Patrol comprised just Dropshot, Bombshock and Growl, three hardened killing machines of hate, anger and power. They were, however, all land-based vehicles. The helicopter was clearly a new addition to their group and accelerated quickly, heading off over the walls in the direction of Mudslinger and the Forlan Delta beyond. "But it looks like the other three decided they wanted some aerial cover and drafted him into their patrol."

"Don't worry." Overload smiled calmly as he powered down the runway, taking to the skies. "No helicopter's going to catch me!" He promised.

"Damn right he won't." High Jump echoed with concern, looking over at Tote who shared the same sense of dread. "That's because he's not after you."

Tote looked around them and at the direction of Mudslinger, Tracer, Overload and the combined form of Vanquish and Fireshot. "Yeah," he agreed, "he's headed after Mudslinger!"

"Guys!" interupted a familiar voice. It was Mudslinger. "I'm nearly at the Delta, but I think my bogey has just doubled back." Sure enough, in the distance the Autobots saw the returning light from the burning energon jet engine of Vanquish and Fireshot. A feeling of dread passed through Overload. He could out-run Tracer, but as they had already discussed, he had no chance against Vanquish and Fireshot. In an instant, his confidence had been shattered. It was simply a matter of time before the Decepticons picked him off.

Flattop had been the first to react to the Autobot aircraft taking off. Having been keeping an optic on their unwanted guests, their audatious bid to escape was probably as surprising to them as their new-found knowledge that Overload's transporter trailer now transformed into an aircraft too. Still, the deployment of Tracer was seen to be sufficient. As much as Flattop appeared to want to be involved in the fight, the veteran Airwave who now relished his position as one of Skyhopper's favourite aerospace commanders had kept his feet on the ground. Whatever it was they were doing over there they could not afford to lose the manpower chasing a few escaping POWs.

"That's the second missile!" Tote exclaimed as Roughstuff and Airwave finished removing the enormous ballistic projectile from Roughstuff's transporter. "Whatever it is we're going to do, we better do it now." High Jump agreed, although he was still unsure of their plans.

"They aren't going to attack." High Jump reminded him confidently as they crept outside and sprinted towards the control tower once more. "Whatever it is they are doing is more important." Tote nodded. "We just have to figure out what it-"

"High Jump!" Tote screamed, leaping at him and pushing him aside. The two Autobots rolled into a heap, High Jump rubbing his head.

"What the Hell?" he asked, a little dazed looking around and trying to focus.

"Some sort of earthquake." Tote suggested, looking up at the control tower. Tote had seen it buckle and tip towards them, the whole structure hinging over with an eerie scraping sound. The entire structure now lay on its side, right in front of them, but undamaged.

"Impossible." High Jump objected, looking around. "There's no reason for any seismic activity here. No fault lines. Nothing." A chilling, icy wind blew along the length of the airfield, catching Tote on his spine. "It just fell. All by itself."

Tote shook his head. "I'm telling you," Tote's optics flicked from left to right as he struggled to take in what his senses told him, "there's something moving and it ain't us!" Tote observed, his arms and legs braced as the ground trembled. With a screech that threatened to break every audio sensor around, a crack appeared along the length of the runway. The opening grew and soon the entire runway split into two. Great sections of the landing strip tilted and pivoted with the groans and wails of cold metal-on-metal revealing great hydraulics and gearing.

"What the frag?" High Jump whispered in awe.

"Holy smokes - Ironworks was right!" Tote stammered, although High Jump was less ready to accept this assessment. "This whole airfield - it's transforming into a giant missile silo!"

The runway split again, then again, as great sections of the base folded away revealing two enormous launchers. "Two giant launchers!" High Jump stammered.

"For two giant missiles." Tote added, glancing at High Jump.

He nodded. "Well," High Jump summarised, "I think we can safely say we found the 'big' thing."

"Er, guys," Ironworks piped up, adding more to the mix, "those missiles aren't the missiles."

"What?" High Jump demanded, looking back through the darkness at the launch platforms near the hanger behind the Military Patrol. The two enormous structures raised themselves up out of the groun and pointed into space. The two missiles, as big as they were, were small-fry compared to the platform. But what really gave it away were the two missiles already loaded up, each perhaps five or six times the size of Roughstuff's missiles.

Tote looked at High Jump and High Jump looked back. Their optics scanned the lengths of the enormous missiles, both tall, sleek and powerful, but both missing the sections at the top. Ironworks was right. The missiles Roughstuff had transported here with his escort were not missiles; they were simply the warheads for something much, much bigger.

--

CHAPTER 24

"Oh Primus!" Ironworks sat, his mouth dropped open in awe, optics glued to the security screens rerouted from the Airwave's base to his own communications bay. No wonder the Decepticons had such a strong unit escorting the transporters. "Would you look at the size of those things?" He asked no-one in particular. There was a stunned silence from the other Autobots. "What do you reckon the range is on something that big?"

Tote and High Jump looked blankly at each other. "Ironworks!" Tote ordered. "How far exactly are we from Iacon?"

High Jump shook his head. "Forget it." He advised. "I think we can safely say Iacon's within range. Those things could take out a couple of moons if they wanted. Iacon is small as good as dead unless we can disable them." The deafening roar of Vanquish and Fireshot flew over the airfield as they returned from their aborted chase of Mudslinger and powered on in the direction of Overload. The two Autobots ducked for cover.

"Ironworks - get onto Countdown and let him know that-" Tote was interupted.

"Forget it!" High Jump insisted once more. "There's no time. We need to act now!" He reminded Tote, pointing across the runway towards Roughstuff, Airwave and the Constructor Squad who were already positioning the first warhead into the missile silo. Flattop re-emerged from the Decepticon warehouse with Meltdown and Halftrack, the final two members of the Battle Squad. "It seems they think we've seen enough!" High Jump pointed as Airwave began barking orders at them. While the Military Patrol remained covering their prize payloads, the other trio began advancing on High Jump and Tote.

"We've got to get into the control room." Tote suggested. High Jump nodded.

"You find it and get in there and do whatever it takes to disable them." High Jump added. "I'll draw them away, or distract them," his voice trailed off, "or something." Tote nodded.

In an instant, the two split, Tote heading further away from where the Military Patrol continued to guard the missiles, and High Jump taking Mudslinger's rifle, hopped onto the transformed control tower to set up a vantage point. Tote's aim was to head away as if trying to escape and double back and find a way into the missile silo control room. "Good luck!" Tote called, transforming into his vehicle mode.

"And goodnight?" High Jump laughed uneasily to himself, not wanting to hear the completion of the phrase.

"No!" Tote called as he disappeared into the night. "Good luck and good luck!"

--

CHAPTER 25

Mudslinger barely screeched to a halt before leaping into transformation. Landing heavily on his feet, he looked over his shoulder to see the mighty form of Tracer's attack helicopter mode bearing down, chainguns ablaze, and two parallel lines of rounds blasting into the ground behind him. The Autobot threw himself out of the searchlight beam and at the the Krion bridge that spanned the deep canyon. Hanging below one of the girders into the mesh of supports under the roadway, as Tote and High Jump had taught him hours earlier, Mudslinger swung from bar to bar as rounds of ammunition pelted the bridge.

"What the Hell was all this about?" Mudslinger spat to himself as Tracer circled around for another swoop. "'You go and get yourself mashed by Tracer while we sit around with our thumbs up our tailpipes!'" He ad-libbed as he recalled his version of the events that resulted in his hanging a mile up over the canyon and his Autobot colleagues miles away in the Decepticon airfield. Tracer blasted another few hundred rounds of ammunition at the bridge, sparks flying as retarded rounds sparked against the metal frame. "You are starting to get me angry!" He screamed, raising a fist and shaking it in the night sky. "And you won't like me when I'm angry." As his rage built, he grabbed his pistol with his free hand. Switching it from stun to 'active', he shot wildly at Tracer. He efforts were futile, but angry at his predicament, caught under an unstable bridge being shot at by one of the most skillful and deadly Decepticons he could ever have the misfortune to meet, he nearly slipped from the beam he was holding on to. Dropping his pistol, he grasped at the beam once more with his free hand and caught his balance, fuel rushing through his lines like never before.

He hung still for a moment around half-way across, trying to calm himself down else risk falling to his death into the canyon below. "Come on Mudslinger!" He cussed. "Get a grip!" He let out a sigh and looked over at the remaining distance he still had to swing. A brilliant blue flash of lightning lit up the Forlan Delta ahead. "Come on!" He screamed to no-one. "Let's get moving!" He restarted and concentrated on each swing, resisting the urge to look down as a flash of lightning lit up the canyon for a second. The oily grime and dirt on the griders and water from the relentless rain did little to aid his navigation, nor did the enormous explosion on the upper surface of the bridge as Tracer hit one of the landmines designed to render it useless. Another mine explosed as sections of the bridge collapsed down into the gloom and Mudslinger knew it was time to draw on that last ounce of strength else he might never get such a chance again.

With two final giant swings, he lunged at the far side of the canyon, his arms flailing for grip and his legs kicking and dangling over the edge of the Krion Canyon. With an ear-splitting roar, another girder collapsed below, bringing down another section of the bridge that now threatened to fall completely into oblivion. He scrambled at the dirt and hauled himself over the edge and onto the Forlan Delta side of the canyon. Without a moment's rest, he picked himself up and ran into the Delta towards.

For a second, Mudslinger contemplated what he was doing. This was a warzone, somewhere that Tote and High Jump had guided him through. But right now, he felt backed up into a corner, disoriented and with no idea where to go. "Come on!" Mudslinger screamed, turning to face Tracer, backing away at the same time. "Come get some, you flying scraplet!" He screwed his hands into fists once more and flexed himself, bracing himself for the assault. He took another step back, looking over his shoulder as he did. "You want a piece of me?" He screamed, goading his adversary. "Well come get me!"

Tracer's military professionalism allowed him to ignore the taunting Autobot. Instead, the Decepticon fighter continued to log his movements. "Target re-acquired: 650 metres bearing 029." He reported. "Primary missiles one and two." Over the noise of his thunderous rotor blades, Tracer launched two missiles, accelerating almost faster than Mudslinger could see. In an instant, he was thrown from his feet, crashing into the ground some distance from the 'safe' path Tote and High Jump had forged through the minefield. He shook his head, trying to regain his composure and rolled onto his hands to push himself up.

He froze.

Before placing his full weight on his hands, he slowly raised his right hand. Out of the smoke he saw what it was he thought that he had felt. He was right. A primed landmine was inches away from detonating. Quite how many thousands of years this thing had waited here for some unfortunate victim, Mudslinger was unsure. Who placed it there, Autobots or Decepticons, was also a mystery. But what was for sure, was that if he had triggered it, the best he could have hoped for was to lose his arm; at worst it could have killed him.

The smoke and dust from the two explosions began to settle and Mudslinger looked all around him. He was sat in a playground of ancient mines, dormant drones and all manner of assault weapons disgarded from thousands of years of conflict. LEDs glowed and machines hummed silently, buried under battle debris, but still quite active despite an age without use. Finally, it hit him. "You Goddamned spark of a glitch!" He beamed as High Jump's plan finally made sense. "You Goddamned-" He interupted himself with a new sense of purpose as his smile stretched from audio receptor to audio receptor. "Hey!" He screamed, waving his arms. "You never even scratched me!"

As Tracer circled around once more, he closed in for another shot at his target. "That's right!" Mudslinger whispered to himself. "Come to daddy." Suddenly, as sensors activated themselves for the first time in thousands of years, three automated drone anti-aircraft turrets erupted, springing themselves from their hiding places and pelting flak into the sky.

"Taking enemy fire." Tracer reported as he aborted his run, missiles and flak exploding around him. "Unable to track target."

"Ha ha!" Mudslinger screamed as the night sky glowed red with fire. "Take that, Decepticon!" He looked around with marvel at the old weaponry that had come to life. His fingers stroked at the dust on one of the flak cannons to reveal a Decepticon insignia and laughed at the notion of Tracer being shot down by an ancient drone Decepticon weapon designed to repel Autobots not offer them sanctuary. Now, if only the rest of them were having the same luck?"

--

CHAPTER 26

"'Good luck?'" High Jump called back to Tote as he sped away. "Don't need it!". They did not need luck. They were High Jump and Tote. They never needed luck. That was something they had told themselves so many times before. But this time there was something bigger at stake than possibly all their previous exploits put together. They did not need luck; they needed more than luck. "We need a miracle." He whispered to himself.

High Jump peered out of his makeshift bunker. Half-track and Meltdown had transformed into their missile tractor-trailer unit. While primarily an anti-aircraft unit, High Jump knew as well as anyone that they could still launch ballistics across the airfield at him. Flattop, a Decepticon aircraft, was like a Sharkticon out of water; the airfield, transformed into a missile silo, left insufficient room for him to take off. However, his military prowess as a foot soldier was unknown and still posed a significant threat.

Out of the corner of his optic he saw Tote reach the far end of the airfield once more and scale the fence. "It's up to you now, High Jump." High Jump muttered to himself, tipping out the contents of his cargo holds out onto the wall of the control tower that now lay on its side forming the 'floor'. He glanced at his inventory: Mudslinger's rifle with three 50-round magazines, four stun grenades, a dual passive/active laser pistol, and a handful of tools he always carried with him for installing booby-traps, like the 'fire extinguisher' he had helped install on the wall of the holding cells of the Decepticon base earlier.

"What else?" He asked himself. "Think!" He found the bodies of the three Decepticons Tote and Powertrain had incapacitated earlier. During the transformation process, the control tower had translated and tipped to its side sending them into another indignified heap. He quickly searched their bodies and retrieved Roadhugger's pistol and two small machine pistols belonging to the duo of Powerpunch and Meltdown. He gave them a quick kick to check they were still unconcious. They were, but he gave them another one anyway.

Hurrying back to his vantage point by a window, he set up his arsenal. "I guess this will have to do." He sighed to himself. As he peered out of the window his optics widened as he saw how close the Decepticons had advanced. Throwing a couple of grenades out first, to give himself cover, he grabbed Mudslingers rifle and protruded from his makeshift foxhole. That Meltdown and Halftrack had transformed back into their robot forms and they had not fired any ballistic weapons at him yet led High Jump to believe perhaps Airwave had ordered them not to destroy his base. "Tough slag, Airwave." He hypothesised.

Perhaps he had a touch of the 'Mudslinger' about him, or maybe it was simply using his weapon that did it, but High Jump let out a menacing scream as he began firing rounds at his three targets. They dived for cover and produced pistols and rifles of their own and the firefight began. Keeping an enemy pinned down was easy for High Jump. His experience as a sniper, a machine gunner and even as a regular soldier back in the day made it nothing more than a trip down memory lane. However, keeping three targets pinned down at once was asking too much even for him.

As the first, then the second magazine expired, the three Decepticons advanced further on his position leaving him to wonder for a second whether he should have just left and saved his own skin. "Huh? And where would I run to?" He scoffed at himself, cursing such a pathetic contemplation of self-pity. "If we don't finish these guys off, there won't be anywhere left to run to!" The notion of the missiles hitting Iacon, or anywhere else, did not bear thinking about. They had to succeed. They had to stay and fight.

Click. The third magazine ran dry. Tossing the rifle aside, he grabbed the two machine pistols. One to each hand, he appeared back at the window and began raining rounds down around them again. Taking the wrong moment to appear from behind his cover, Meltdown felt the full force of between six and ten rounds striking his chest, sending the Decepticon flying. The toughened hide of his armour ensured the wounds were far from fatal, but sufficient perhaps to knock him out of this battle at least. "One down." High Jump muttered.

The first of his machine pistols expired and he grabbed Roadhugger's pistol in his free hand and continued. As Flattop made a break towards him, High Jump caught one, then two, clear shots at his foe with his pistol. He fell tumbling to the ground, clearly out for the count. Autobots don't kill. That was what he told Mudslinger just minutes earlier. But things were different now. Now they realised what it was they were taking on. "Don't kill?" He asked himself. "Well, they don't say nothing about not giving him one humungous headache!" He redirected his machine pistol and riddled Flattop's body with another dozen or so minor wounds, emptying its magazine.

"See?" He smiled dropping his empty weapon. "Now you're-" High Jump interupted himself once more. "Goddamn it!" He screamed, dropping pistol and clutching his arm. "What the frag?" He found himself. "God damned acid-tipped!" Hight Jump spat with a taste of deja vu. "Again!" He flicked the painfully invasive pellet from his arm in nearly the same place he had been caught earlier. "Primus! Can't you fraggers use something original? Or did you just have a load of acid pellet coupons to use?"

Tote crept in from over the fence again, but in a new location on the far side of the base. Creeping around the side of the building, just around the corner from the three menacing figures of Growl, Bombshock and Dropshot, he peered through the gloom towards the decimated control tower now full of pot marks and holes. A crash of lightning lit up the sky momentarily, the silhouette of a lone fighter holding his own against the final Decepticon with just a pistol appearing for the briefest of moments. But even the accompanying thunder did little to drown out the noise of Tracer as the Decepticon helicopter returned.

"Oh shoot." Tote observed. "He didn't take the bait."

Another flash lit up the airfield and Tote savoured the millisecond that he saw the shadow across the silo as it could be his last. Tracer flew over to the control tower sparing no thought towards its worth as a structually intact base. "Secondary missiles, one and two." He reported blasting two explosives into the side of the control tower.

"No!" screamed Half-track, running towards the burning building, the concern for his teammates inside clear and sincere. Tracer ignored him and activated the devastating chainguns housed under his missile wings. With little apparent regard for the collateral damage that might be inflicted on his fellow Decepticons Roadhugger, Powerpunch and Meltdown, Tracer began piling round after round into the flames, sweeping left and right determined to kill at least one Autobot that day after his aborted chase of Mudslinger.

As the flames from the initial explosion faded, Tote saw the rear end of the the combined form of Powerpunch and Direct-Hit burst out of the control tower in the direction of the silos and the other Decepticons. They must have recovered conciousness, but High Jump was nowhere to be seen. As much as he knew this was the time for him to make his work count, to sneak inside and destroy the controls for the missile silos, Tote could not help but watch in horror. Tracer continued his merciless sweep firing two more secondary missiles at the tower. Caught fleeing from the explosion, the tractor trailer unit flew into a pile of empty barrels before entire wall of the control tower collapsed. A solitary and shadowy, unconcious figure lying next to a pile of spent weapons appeared. Without a pause, the Decepticon fired tens of rounds splitting the robot in two.

Tote's fingers clasped around the side of the building so hard they left indentations. His pain was real and wanted to shout out as the body ruptured. But his silence was paramount, and it took the panicking voice of Ironworks over his intercom to snap him out of it.

"I know this is a bad time Tote," he began sheepishly, his voice crackling with interference over the radio, "but Overload needs your help!" He explained that Vanquish and Fireshot were using his transporter as target practice. "I don't know how long they can hold out."

"Primus." Tote whispered to himself. "Could this get any worse?"

"And another thing," Ironworks added, sitting back in his seat in his commication bay and peering into the monitors, "they've just finished loading the second missile."

--

CHAPTER 27

"What the Hell went wrong?" Overload screamed at Powertrain, the sleek Decepticon jet flying in behind. "Mudslinger was supposed to draw him away!" Powertrain said nothing, but hopped over their cargo of Autobot bodies to man one of the gun platforms. "That stupid spark of a-"

"Tracer happened," Ironworks crackling voice interupted over the intercom, "apparently." His voiced trailed off a little.

"What?" Overload both barely heard and comprehended. "He's coming in for another swoop!" He bellowed, ignoring Ironworks and shouting from his cockpit to Powertrain, his overloaded transporter buffeting in the wind and rain. The conjoined form of Vanquish and Fireshot screamed by once more, another couple of shots battering the stricken and vulnerable aircraft. Powertrain, still manning one of the two twin-cannons, stood adimst the four unconcious Monster Trucks pelting a mixture of flak and explosive ammunitions into the night sky. But with the speed and maneouverability of their Decepticon foe, it was all-but useless. "There he is again!"

A crash of lightning lit up the sky once again. For a second, chinks of brilliant light briefly appeared through the holes in the fuselage like beam of sunlight in thick forest. Sparks bounced around in the cargo hold of Overload's aircraft as machinegun fire of the Decepticons pelted the Autobots. "Come on down, Autobot!" Powertrain heard Fireshot scream through the night, the nimble jet strafing through the chaff and flares the Autobots ejected to confuse the Decepticons' heat-seeking missiles.

"Can't you get this thing going any faster?" Powertrain screamed from his gun-station, peering out at the straining engines.

"We're too heavy!" Overload screamed back over their roar in a break of fire. The two Autobots found their optics scanning about three hundred and sixty degrees. "Where'd he go?"

"I don't like it." Powertrain began. "I think he-"

"There!" Overload screamed, pointing uselessly into the night. "Engage!" The Decepticon jet breezed by, another burst of ammunition thudding into the wings of the aircraft, a panel working loose and flapping uncontrollably in the wind. Powertrain pounded the sky for a few seconds before drawing his to assault to a close. "What are you waiting for?" Overload demanded as Powertrain stood at his station.

"He's out of range." Powertrain replied calmly. "There's no point-"

"What?" Overload spat. "Are we paying by round now? Come on!" He urged clearing out the shards of his shattered cockpit so he could see into the gloom once more. "Turn the sky red! Waste that spark of a glitch!" As the wind and rain howled through the gaps in the aircraft, Powertrain squeezed on the trigger buttons once more releasing hundreds of rounds of ammunition as well as pulse and laser fire into the clouds.

The Decepticon reappeared momentarily, a missile striking the Autobots squarely on the front of their aircraft, Overload flying from his seat in a daze. "Overload!" Powertrain screamed, dropping his controls and picking him up by the shoulders. The blue and red Autobot shook his head, trying to tempt his senses to return.

He pushed his way out of Powertrain's hands. "I'm okay!" He reported, taking the controls once more. He pressed a couple of switches, deactivating a few controls that belched smoke. Wafting away the smog, he released an oxygen suppressent from overhead canisters to kill the fire. "Remind me to upgrade my aircraft when we get back!" Overload muttered as the plane began to descend, discharged extinguisher gases leaving an icy white trail of smoke belching out of the holes in his aircraft. "Who knows? Perhaps it is still under warranty."

"Why are we dropping?" Powertrain panicked as he fired more pulse shots at Fireshot.

"Engine's damaged." Overload reported. "Don't worry, we just need to descend to get more oxygen into the burners." He steadied the aircraft, cooling lubricants free flowing from his joints. "It's denser down here." He added as if it were necessary. But as the aircraft failed to respond, it was Overload's turn to panic as he understood finally the problems besotting his aircraft. "Okay," he concluded to himself, "we need to fly this the old-fashioned way."

"Huh?" Powertrain uttered, his body braced against the interior skin of the fuselage with one hand, the other still wrapped around the trigger of his gun station. A creak and groan moaned out of the wing and a the flailing panel snapped off, unspent fuel momentarily igniting. Flares stowed under the wing caught the ignition, blazing into a bright ball of chemical sparks that roared through the gaps in the skin and inside the aircraft.

"Don't worry about that." Overload sensed the concern as smoke and light blinded the interior. He flicked a couple of red-hot flares from his shoulders. "Just concentrate on hitting him."

"What did you mean by- incoming!" Powertrain interupted himself as the Decepticon blasted by once more, another dozen or so rounds penetrating the aircraft. He lifted his head once more to see a support pylon flash by causing him to step back instinctively. "Primus!" He blasphemed. "You realise how close the ground is?" He looked over at Overload, who nodded unfazed. He glanced back and out of a hole in the floor that the Decepticons had blasted. The ground whizzed by under his feet and although it was difficult to judge their height, he could tell they were close to it. "Primus!" He whispered partly to himself, and perhaps partly to his god. "This is supposed to be a plane! If I wanted to be this close to the ground I would have driven here." He fired more rounds in the general direction of their Decepticon scourge. "What did you mean," Powertrain repeated so that Overload could hear, "about doing things the old way?" .

"Navigation system's shot." Overload reported. "No radar; no sonar; no nothing." Overload nodded to himself, relishing the challenge. "Going to have fly this one out by sight." Powertrain glanced back over his shoulder, through the smoke from the burned-out flares, into the cockpit and through its shattered window into the night. 'Sight' was a serious overstatement. They were practically feeling their way along. Another explosion rocked the transporter. "How you holding out back there?" Overload called over his shoulder.

"Barely!" Powertrain replied, the twentieth floor of a building appearing through the smoke, flying by too close for comfort.

"Ironworks!" Overload called. "If you can hear me, tell Tote and High Jump I don't know how much longer we can hold on." An engine exploded under enemy fire, causing a sudden drop in power.

"Where are you?" Ironworks voice crackled through the radio.

"I don't know." Overload confessed. "Somewhere." He added, needlessly. "Woah!" He screamed alongside Powertrain, before releasing the undercarriage. The aircraft thudded the hyperway over which they were flying with a ear-shattering shriek. Cushioning the impact, the wheels took the brunt of the bounce, twisting and flailing behind before snapping off as the belly of the plane scraped along the highway in a shower of sparks. Overload eased on his stick, lifting the stricken aircraft back into the air. "I think this is the end of the line!"

"What do you mean?" Powertrain screamed back over the noise, trying to retake his position by his gun.

"We can't out-run him any longer." Overload replied calmly. "This is where you get off. I'll draw him away as far as possible. When I say jump..."

"What?" Powertrain stammered, a little surprised as the rear doors of the cargo aircraft opened to reveal the ground within touching distance.

"Jump!" Overload finished. The rear of the aircraft tilted backwards as the hyrdaulic rams lowered the interior ramp. The five bodies dropped out of the aircraft onto the quiet highway below, Powertrain joining the unconcious Monster Trucks in an uncontrolled roll in a ball of sparks. With limbs flailing and bodies contorting, they finally drew to a halt. Powertrain rubbed his aching neck and looked up. To his shear amazement, the wreckage of a transporter somehow defied both destiny and gravity and continued its flight, belching thick smoke with flames fizzling like miniature gas burners.

He gave a quick assessment of the four Autobot prisoners. Aside from the odd dislocation and some serious dents, they were all more or less intact, just that they were still unconcious. He radioed their status to Ironworks, unsure whether his partner would be able to acknowledge his report. As he manhandled the Autobots into some makeshift shelter, he waited for word of where the others were, and indeed, where he was. As a familiar Decepticon aircraft swooped by, continuing its speedy run back towards the Decepticon airfield, Powertrain felt his fuel pump sink. However dangerous being dumped out of the aircraft by Overload may have been, it was probably far more dangerous than not being dumped out. Had Overload paid the ultimate price?

--

CHAPTER 28

Through the small crack in the rear of the hangar wall Tote could see Roughstuff and Airwave were arguing over Tracer. Roughstuff turned to face the subject of their argument as he entered the hangar. "Tracer, you are hearby reassigned back under my command. I want you to rearm and get airborne. Join up the Military Patrol and offer aerial support to the ground unit." Tracer nodded but said nothing, before walking over to weapons store.

"What?" Airwave protested as Roughstuff extended his authority. "You can't do that!"

"Sending an elite military helicopter galavanting off on a wild bot chase into wastelands full of anti-aircraft weapons constitutes a misappropriation of resources." Roughstuff explained calmly to a livid Airwave. "His assignment to you was on only a temporary basis and you nearly got him killed!" He argued. "Now I am executing Skyhopper's authority." He finished. "Tracer is back in my team."

"Damn it!" Airwave cussed and turned to face the remainder of his unit, the dormant remnants of the Constructor Squad and Halftrack who were busy operating on injured workers. "What happened to Detour?"

"I don't know." Grit replied. "He was guarding the Autobots prisoners with Roadhugger. When we went back to check we encountered Autobot resistance."

"And where is he now?" Airwave asked angrily.

"He told you-" Hammer explained.

"No!" Airwave interupted. "Roadhugger! Where is he now?"

Grit and Hammer exchanged glances and shrugged. "I don't know." Grit replied, aware his lack of answers was not helping Airwave to regain an semblence of calmness. "You told him to check in on Powerpunch and Direct-Hit."

"He must still be under that rubble." Hammer offered nodding towards the flaming wreckage of the control tower.

"So where are Powerpunch and Direct-Hit?" Airwave asked. "Are they there too?" Grit shrugged.

"I saw them drive off over there." Halftrack explained pointing towards the missile silos. "He seemed disoriented and crashed into those barrels."

Airwave looked over into the darkness. "And you didn't think to go and help your injured teammates?" He asked.

"I was busy!" Halftrack objected, his hands gesturing towards his injured partner, Meltdown. "I only have one pair of hands!"

"I think Flattop is still out there somewhere too." Hammer dared to reminded him. Airwave's optics narrowed, expecting the worst.

"Yeah," Halftrack added, "he is. He's out cold somewhere near the control tower."

Airwave dispaired. "Will somebody please tell me why we have hundreds of Autobots crawling around my airfield picking off my soldiers one by one?" Airwave screamed in anger, his optics full of rage and contempt, his fist landing heavily on a console terminal. Grit winced and the thought he may have damaged it as it was a vital component for launching the missiles. "You!" He pointed angrily at Growl, stomping out of the hangar into the rain. There was no reaction from the Military Patrol. "Get out there and find those Autobots!" He demanded, shoving the back of Growl.

Growl remained silent and stationary in his vehicle mode. "Negative." Roughstuff replied from inside the hangar, working on the terminals. "Their orders are to guard the missiles."

"Their orders just changed!" Airwave spat, without looking back at Roughstuff. "Get out there and-"

"Negative." Growl interupted. "Our orders are to guard the missiles."

Roughstuff explained their position, as if it were necessary. "Until the missiles are launched they don't move unless we get word from Skyhopper."

Airwave was dumbfounded. He turned back to square up to Roughstuff. "But there are Autobots in-"

"They are not in the silo." Roughstuff interupted. "Nor anywhere near." Airwave fumed silence. "Tell us when they reach the silos, then we'll take them out." Roughstuff promised. "But until then, it's your job to control the perimeter."

"They already breached the perimeter!" Airwave argued as Tracer shoved past him, rearmed and ready to join his new teammates. The Decepticon transformed and took to the skies once more, hovering over the missiles, his powerful searchlight trained on lighting the area around the silos. "It was your idea to leave them alone on the far side of the base! 'What harm can they do over there?'" Airwave mimicked of Roughstuff.

"No." Roughstuff corrected him. "I said I wasn't going to deploy my troops. If you needed to engage them sooner to undertake your orders-"

"I did!" Airwave objected.

"If you hadn't seen fit to deploy your only aerial support to chase what was clearly a diversion," he argued, clearly referring to Mudslinger, "then you might have a better handle on the situation." Roughstuff looked back to Airwave. "Perhaps you better go out there find them yourself." Roughstuff countered. "Or do you need me to explain to Skyhopper why you can't handle this simple job?"

Airwave clenched his fists in anger. "This is my airfield!" He reminded them. "And I-"

"I remind you this airfield has been comandeered for use by the Decepticon Armed Forces." Roughstuff replied calmly, pointing casually at the datacube on the terminal. "This airfield is under my command. And until I get direct orders from-"

"At this rate there won't be an airfield left!" Airwave cried. Roughstuff said nothing. His silence reminded Airwave of its disposible value. The missiles were the priority; the state Airwave's airfield finished in was secondary.

"Show me insubordination again," Roughstuff replied calmly, "and I will relieve you of your duties." he promised. "You have your troops, and I have mine. I suggest you do your job." With that he turned back to work on the launch controls.

"Gah!" Airwave spat turning and facing the remainder of his troops. "You!" He demanded, pointing at Grit. "Get out there and find Tote!"

Grit looked at Hammer, who was still working on his partner Sledge, trying to eleviate the pain from his wounds sustained earlier. Hammer shrugged, before looking through the window into the night as another crash of lightning lit up the airfield. A silent chill of aniticipation and nerves slowly ran through his circuitry. "Tote's gone." Grit explained. "We saw him abandon High Jump."

"And then High Jump just got wasted by Tracer." Hammer added.

There was a moment's silence. Tote saw Airwave open his mouth. He had had enough run ins with Tote and High Jump when he was a spy with the Air Strike Patrol. He may have been replaced by Tailwind, but he still knew enough about Tote and High Jump to know they would not abandon each other. Tote looked down at his hands where his one remaining grenade spun in his fingers. He had wanted to use this on Tracer for killing High Jump, but he knew deep down that he needed to find the power source for the missile console. The electrical storm had already taken out the mains power. The source for this console must have come from another more secure generator. Perhaps by destroying that he could prevent, or at least delay, the missiles from launching. If he could just get inside the hangar perhaps he could stop them. After all, his own life was expendable, provided he got the grenade in the right place.

As he was deliberating this emormous explosion rocked the airfield. "Taking enemy fire." Tracer reported, his rotor blades on fire and plumes of smoke bellowing in circular whisps as he began spiralling down. "Mayday, mayday, going down." He reported, transforming into his robot form to cushion the impact.

"The missiles!" Roughstuff screamed as the robot form of Tracer crashed deep into the base of the silos. Dropshot transformed and ran to the edge of the silo to look down into the gloom. "Hold station, soldier!" Roughstuff bellowed. "Get back in position! And keep your optics open!"

Airwave was less interested, grabbing the radio mic from the console. "Fireshot!" he screamed. "You two get back to the airfield now!" He paused as he heard the aircraft raise his objection, claiming they were close to the kill and that the prisoners had just been ejected. "Now!" Airwave reiterated. "We are under attack and we need every pair of hands on the ground!"

But Tote's optics were following the thermal trail of exhaust gases that extended over the far side of the airfield. He scanned the horizon to see a small familiar figure balanced on the perimeter fence, surface to air missile launcher slung over his shoulder.

Mudslinger perched on the fence dropped his spent, makeshift launcher, a smile of self-satisfaction allowing itself to spread across his face. "No road is too rough," he smiled, "no foe too tough."

--

CHAPTER 29

Inside the hangar Airwave was bellowing orders to Grit, Sledge, Hammer, and Halftrack. "Still think Tote 'chickened-out' of this?" He cussed angrily. "Get out there and find him! He must be on the far side of the base to have shot down Tracer!"

Sledge and Hammer looked at each other. "Airwave," Sledge began, "I can barely walk. I can't go chasing after Autobots!"

Hammer stood firm. "Yeah," he echoed, "we need to take care of our casualties."

"In case you didn't notice," Sledge added, "we aren't soldiers. We're civilians."

Airwave strided over to the medical bay where Sledge lay next to the unconcious bodies of Excavator, Stonecruncher, Knockout and Meltdown. "You are under my command!" He reminded them, painfully yanking Sledge upright. "And that makes you soldiers!"

"But last time we left this hangar they shot up half my team!" Grit protested.

Airwave dropped Sledege and squared up to Grit. "If you dont go out there and find him," he growled through clenched teeth, "I'll shoot up the other half!" He looked over at Halftrack. "That includes you too!" The three robots took up their arms and prepared to leave the hangar. "What do you think you are doing?" Airwave demanded of Sledge, still lying in pain on in the medical bay.

Sledge's optics opened a little. "I told you - my leg!"

"And I told you - you're a soldier!" Airwave commanded, thrusting a pistol into his hand. "Now move it!"

From his hiding place in the shadows to the rear of the command hangar, Tote watched as the injured Sledge transformed into his truck mode, painfully hauling his partner Hammer along the length of the airfield, Halftrack being pulled by Grit just a short distance behind. As a light in the sky caught his attention, the returning form of Fireshot and Vanquish, Tote heard Roughstuff and Airwave continue their argument.

Roughstuff wanted the silos to remain open so that they could launch the missiles when the control system had been completed. Airwave argued that the base temporarily be transformed back so his aircraft support could land. The Military Patrol could still execute their orders to protect the missiles even while the base was transformed. "Growl, Dropshot, Bombshock!" Airwave ordered. "Move aside from the silo so the runway can be redeployed!"

Roughstuff agreed reluctantly and reiterated Airwave's command. "But what about Tracer?" Dropshot dared to question. He's still in the silo!"

Roughstuff looked at Airwave, who nodded calmly. "It's okay." He replied, activating the base transformation. "He won't be caught in the transformation mechanism."

"But someone should check on him, to make sure there has been no damage to the missiles." Roughstuff suggested as the gears and pistons began to whirr and contort. As if in anticipation, the conjoined form of Powerpunch and Direct-Hit groggily made their way to the silo, their coupling mechanism clearly damaged as the tractor unit struggled to pull his trailer. Transforming, he leapt into the silo just as the runway reappeared, covering the missiles.

"It's now or never." He thought, instincts force him to look up at the roof of the hangar. "I have to find that power supply." He skirted around the edge of the hangar, keeping an optic out for any of the other Decepticons still gunning for him. He ducked instinctively as the Battle Squad aircraft touched down on the runway. "Come on!" Tote cursed himself. "Think!" There was no sign of any cables around the walls. "The generator must be inside."

He was right. The exhaust gases from the generator inside the hangar belched silently into the sky from a small chimney. "Bingo." He whispered. As another bright flash of lightning lit up the airfield once more, he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Mudslinger. "That's it Mudslinger," he whispered to himself again as he saw nothing but the four Decepticons splitting up into their robot modes once more and being joined by the two that just landed, "stay hidden and keep them busy for me."

Quietly Tote hoisted himself onto the roof of the hangar, careful not to alert the Decepticons of his presence. His footsteps were slow and deliberate in order to ensure each one sounded no more threatening to those inside than any of the thousand raindrops lashing on the roof every second. From his vantage point, he could not help but acknowledge once more the burning control tower across the silos. His optics closed momentarily. "At least Mudslinger got him back for you." He reflected. Now it was up to him to complete the mission.

He reached the small chimney. The generator had to be here, somewhere underneath the chinmey. He reached into his cargo comparment and retrieved the grenade. It fit, just. "Here goes nothing." He uttered, priming the grenade and dropping it down the hole. The explosion rocked the building as Tote leapt from its roof, the force blasting him heavily onto the ground. The glazed windows of the hanger burst out in a ball of flame as Tote rolled on the ground. Suddenly the lighting systems failed as power was cut to the control room.

Grabbing his pistol, Tote ran around towards the front of the hangar, the Decepticons in pandemonium. The Military Patrol were now in their robot forms, rifles at the ready, backing off from the hanger and barking orders at each other. Out of the smoking hanger ran Airwave, pistol at the ready shouting about getting things done once and for all. He turned the corner colliding into Tote.

Tote, ready for the Decepticon retaliation, overpowered the stunned Airwave, locking his head and pointing his pistol towards his face. "One move, Decepticon." Tote whispered. Airwave dropped his gun, but said nothing. "Walk with me."

Tote pushed Airwave back around the corner and into the hanger once more, his weapon pointed into the side of his head and his body covering Tote's so as to act as a shield. Roughstuff was leaning over the command console. "I think there's no damage, but the generator is dead." He reported, looking up through the smoke. "I got the battery back up and-"

"Turn it off!" Tote demanded, his gun still inches from Airwave's optics, his head held fast by Tote's other arm. Roughstuff's hand lurched for his pistol that was on the console. "Turn it off now or I kill him!"

Roughstuff slowly picked up his gun and turned to face Tote and shrugged. "Go ahead." He replied nonchalantly.

Cooling lubricant flowed freely from his face. "I mean it." Tote warned. "One move-"

"Like this?" Roughstuff suggested, raising his gun and shooting Airwave in the chest three times. The impact blew Tote back off his feet, dropping Airwave in the process. The Autobot rolled onto his knees and pointed his weapon at Roughstuff as the Decepticon reciprocated. The familiar noise of whirring gears began once more. "You're too late, Autobot!" the Decepticon laughed.

"I said shut it off!" Tote sneered. "Or I'll do it for you."

Outside Tote heard the runway covers slid open once more to reveal the two missiles again. His back to the entrance, Tote felt his life flashing before him. The Military Patrol had to be on their way to shoot him in the back, but he still had to force Roughstuff to switch off the terminate the terminal, not an easy thing to do with a gun pointing in your own face.

The scream came from over his shoulder, and while Roughstuff saw the problem Tote saw the opportunity instead. Bracing himself for attack from behind, he shot at Roughstuff, blasting the Decepticon's arm and causing him to drop his weapon. The Decepticon fell onto the console, clutching his broken hand. As Tote made a lunge, Roughstuff slammed his fist on the controls. In a desperate last bid to stop him, Tote fired his weapon at the controls, destroying a section of the console that exploded in a shower of twisted metal and tile buttons.

Roughstuff laughed as he collapsed onto the floor. "It's over, Autobot!" He cried as the ignition sequence began. Tote skipped over Airwave's unconcious body, and the rest of the debris, to Roughstuff and pointed his gun at his face.

"Do it!" He demanded. "Switch it off!"

Roughstuff laughed once more. "I said it's too late, Autobot." He smiled. "The launch sequence has begun." Tote looked at the smoldering console. "And you just destroyed the controls. There's no stopping it now!" Roughstuff laughed once more. Tote fumed and kicked the Decepticon's gun away before kicking his face too, knocking the smile from mouth. He glanced over his shoulder again, half-expecting to see the Military Patrol, but whatever it was that was occupying them before, was still occupying them now. "Too late!" Roughstuff laughed again as Tote raced to the controls. "You destroyed the console; I couldn't stop the launch now even if I wanted to!" He laughed again. "Congratulations, Tote," Roughstuff concluded, "you just destroyed Iacon."

--

CHAPTER 30

High Jump opened his optics. Nothing. Blackness. Quiet. No voices. No radio. Nothing.

Dead to the world.

"Perfect." He smiled, activating his infra-red imaging systems and scanning the area. His arms ached, as did his legs, but not half as much as Tracer who lay in a crumpled heap below one of the two giant missiles. He looked up along the length of the missiles towards the ceiling that formed when the runway closed over the top of the silo. "Must be a hundred feet down." He returned his attention to Tracer and clambered over to the Decepticon. "Always read the label." He suggested to the unconcious robot, kicking him in the side. "Now, how do I disable this thing?" He looked around again. "Not talking?" He asked rhetorically, thinking on his feet. "I guess I just have to figure this out on my own."

A bump hit the silo cover above grabbing High Jump's attention. "Quick!" High Jump demanded of himself once more, proposing that Fireshot and Vanquish just landed. "Think!" He tugged on the protruding components of the missile's burners at the base but they were all securely installed. "Where's a demo expert when you need one?" He complained. He banged the engines once more, but they were solid. "It'd take one Hell of a force to dislodge this." He contemplated, instantly writing off his notion of transforming and tugging at it with his winch mechanism.

High Jump reached into his cargo hold once more: one grenade. He looked up at the two missiles once more. "Wouldn't make a dent." He concluded with a wry smile. "Not to them, at least."

The grey Autobot vaulted up the ladder running the height of the silo as the noises returned. Whirring and clunking as the base began its retransformation. Pools of standing rainwater that had accumulated on the runway above gushed into the silo again as it split and opened up once more. Spinning orange hazard lights re-illuminated the inside of the silo and the two platforms on which the missiles stood began to elevate a little until their tips protruded once more from the surface.

High Jump was about half-way up the ladder when a huge surface-level explosion rocked the ground. Without pausing, he ejecting his winch mechanism from his waist. "Hey!" Dropshot called, as his face appeared over the edge of the silo, peering down into the gloom. "That's not Direct-" was all the Decepticon managed as the spinning hook of High Jump's tow-line struck him squarely in his armoured chest. The sharp object impaled itself in the blue soldier like a death star. With a quick tug, High Jump pulled on his tow-line, hauling the Decepticon mercilessly into the silo. Dropshot screamed as he flew threw uncontrollably through the air, heavily crashing head-first into one of the missiles before dropping like a dead weight to the pit of the silo with a resounding thump that echoed through the chamber.

Growl was next to dare to peek. "Autobot!" He screamed, dropping to one knee and raising his rifle. High jump leapt onto the first missile, hanging and hiding behind onto one of the missile stabliser fins as Growl fired several shots in his direction.

"Hold your fire!" Bombshock ordered, his hand pulling back that of Growl's. "You'll damage the missiles!"

"But even if we don't damage them," Growl protested pulling his hand free, "then he will!"

Growl's rifle remained trained on the missile waiting for the moment High Jump's head poked out from behind the fin. But instead of an Autobot head, all that emerged was the last of High Jump's grenades, lobbed up just beyond the edge of the silo. As the explosion blasted the Decepticons from behind, High Jump poked his head out to observe; Growl had been launched forward by the blast and was now falling head-first into the silo to join his two teammates. "Three down." High Jump noted to himself he felt a thud hit the missile on the other side. "But where's Bombshock?"

"Right here!" screamed the Decepticon appearing from the other side of the fin, an energon combat knife skimming inches from High Jump's hand. Instincts took over as the Autobot retracted his had, leaving him dangling from the fin with just one hand, some sixty feet up. Bombshock, hanging from another stabliser fin lashed out once more, slashing wildly at the prone Autobot, just out of reach. "Want a job doing properly," he growled, making another lunge, "do it yourself!"

High Jump clasped his flailing hand back onto the fin before releasing his grip slightly allowing him to make a controlled slide a few feet down the missile fin. He looked over his shoulder down at the base of the silo a long way down and looked up again to see the menacing figure of Bombshock leaping from fin to fin, knife gripped in his metallic teeth. Each robot gripped the thin, vertical fin that became greasier by the second as the relentless rain pelted the pair. Daring to release one hand each, High Jump pushed back at his assailant, struggling to keep the strong Decepticon's knife-wielding hand at bay.

The ample strength of Bombshock's arm quickly tore itself from High Jump's grip, releasing his weapon again for another wild lunge. In the melee, Bombshock's knife slashed at High Jump's chest burning a red-hot slash crack in his armour. As the Decepticon came in for a second lunge, High Jump raised his arm to deflect his attack. Although it was not enough to knock the knife from his grip, Bombshock's attack was diverted towards his waist, the knife effortlessly passing through the cable still dangling from his midriff. With an electrifying ping, the cable snapped and dropped the length of the silo from the battling duo, coiling up on Dropshot's unconcious body below.

Sparks flew as the knife burned at the protective paintwork on the missiles behind where High Jump had leapt back once more. "I don't know where you came from, Autobot," Bombshock growled with another slash of the knife, "but when I'm finished with you you're going to wish you stayed there."

"Yeah?" High Jump retorted, catching another guide fin. "I came from Hell." He slid a little further down as Bombshock leapt at him again, the knife back in his teeth. "And as far as I know I'm still there!"

Bombshock slipped as he groped for the same fin from which High Jump still dangled. The Decepticon barely able to hold on, High Jump seized the opportunity. Releasing one hand and supporting his weight by the other, High Jump clench his fist and punched his assailant squarely on the jaw. Although Bombshock barely flinched under the attack, it was enough to knock the knife out from his mouth. The blue flame of the electric blade disappeared into the gloom at the base of the silo.

"You should have stayed dead." Bombshock spat, recovering from his blow and extending the same High Jump, the back of his free forearm striking the Autobot in the face sending him flying through the air, crashing into the ladder that ran the length of the silo. His arms flailed at the rungs, struggling to grip as his body threaten to drop the final sixty or so feet to the base of the silo. His arms nearly ripped from his sockets, finally caught a rung or two and he managed to steady himself in time to hear the roar from below.

He looked down as the pre-ignition gases from the other missile began to whoosh from the engine. As he looked up again, he saw the menacing figure of Bombshock leaping from the one missile towards him, his gargantuan body illuminated for the first time by the mixture of fuel and flame below that indicated a launch was iminant. The Decepticon's bulk smashed into High Jump, the force of the impact nearly sending him toppling from the ladder. The Autobot hooked his feet around a rung tipping over one hundred and eight degrees until he was upside down, pointing face-first down the ladder towards the silo floor burning orange below.

As his arms flailed for grip, High Jump felt the powerful legs of Bombshock stamping on his own while he supported his own weight with his arms. "You're going down, Autobot!" He screamed with each stamp as smoke and steam rose from the burners under the first missile.

"Anything you say!" High Jump managed to reply as his legs hooked around a rung finally lost grip. The grey Autobot activated the compressed air cyclinders protruding from the base of his feet and began a 'jump' directly downwards towards the flames. Bombshock, dangling from a rung above him on the ladder felt the full force blasting unexpectedly at him sending the Decepticon flying high off the ladder, right over the tip of the other missile.

High Jump, with the force of his compressed air launchers now aiding gravity, slid down the length of the ladder face first, his hands aglow the heat as he tried to slow his descent, his legs flailing behind him. Coming to a halt just before the the base of the silo, he back-flipped onto his feet, raising an arm to protect his face from the heat of the burners. The missile was primed; it was ready leave sooner rather than later. Whatever he was going to do, he had to do now.

--

CHAPTER 31

Tote ran out of the warehouse to see no sign of the Military Patrol, except for the silhouette of Bombshock leap into the silo. "What the Hell?" He whispered to himself at the quietness of the airfield, glancing back up towards where Mudslinger had appeared some time ago to see the Decepticons in disarray, running from building to building trying to find the rogue Autobot. As smoke, steam and vapour began pouring out of the silo, he sprinted over to its edge, unsure what to expect to find.

A ninety foot missile or two screaming up into the night sky, through the storm and out towards Autobot territory would not have been unexpected. The semi-concious form of Bombshock flying headfirst into the air out of the silo, on the other hand, was unexpected. "Holy smokes!" Tote spat as the Decepticon landed in a heap on the far side of the silo. Tote stepped gingerly towards the rim and looked down through the heat haze and steam at the base.

"Are you going to give me a hand or are you just going to stand there gawping?" High Jump demanded from below as Tote's mouth dropped open wide. "Yeah, yeah" High Jump pre-empted. "It's me. Now come on!"

Tote shook his head to aid his senses in returning. Clasping both hands on the ladder and wrapping his ankles on the vertical ladder columns, he dropped the length of the silo, coming to a halt at the base of the ladder with the same burns to his hands that High Jump had experience (albeit headfirst) moments earlier. "Can we-"

"Too late." High Jump insisted. "Take this!" Whatever his plan was, it was already being executed. From the far side of the first missile High Jump threw the free end of his severed tow-line cable "And pass it back!" He called from the other side. The two Autobots wrapped the cable around the missile a couple more times. "Okay," High Jump paused, "now for the other."

"You really think this will hold?" Tote asked as they began passing the cable through the fins and other protruding apendages on the base of the missile.

"Nope." High Jump replied bluntly. "But all we need is 'one Hell of a force' and there is nothing else here to do that job!" He added, Tote nodding at High Jump's earlier appraisal of the situation. The missiles were solid and too strong to be broken apart manually. The only hope was to help them destroy each other.

The roar of the pre-ignition gases of the two missiles was suddenly overcome by the scream of the powerful main engine in the base of the first missile as the burners finally ignited fully. With sonic booms echoing around the chamber, Tote and High Jump leapt behind the second missile for cover as red-hot exhaust gases filled the silo. Time slowed to a crawl as the missile tried to get airborne, an ear-splitting creak cried out loud as the cables tying to the two missiles together snapped taught.

With a resounding zip, the force of the first missile taking off ripped the one of the three support bases of the second missile before powering into the air. Exhaust gases still spewing from the second missile, the enormous structure collapsed over its weakened support, the ninety-foot missile crashing and against the wall of the silo. In an instant, the equally unbalanced first missile, now dragging a section of the second missile's support base in tow became ensnared with the guide fins of the second missile itself. As it exited the silo, the two missiles scraped against each other in a tangled mess of cables, broken engine mounts and sabliser fins that twisted and snapped.

An enormous crash echoed down from above as the first missile fell heavily, unable to exit the silo cleanly. The ground rocked them from above but the Autobots' attention was taken by the second missile. Still leaning against the wall of the silo, it stablising and guide equipment torn to shreds, the two remain burners still glowed. "Nice knowing you." High Jump nodded to Tote as the ignition fuel hit them the missile lurched as far forwards as it could, drilling its warhead into the wall of the silo.

In an instant the silo went up in flame.

--

EPILOGUE

The smoldering wreckage of Overload's trailer pulled into view, Powertrain hauling the laden vehicle, Overload himself, limping alongside in his damaged truck mode. They came to a halt a short distance from Ironworks' communications bay to see the yellow Autobot's head appear from above a console, mouth open wide in shock, followed Mudslinger who emerged from behind him.

"Powertrain!" He called in delight, leaping over the console and rushing over to his business partner. "You made it!" Powertrain transformed into his robot mode and acknowledged Ironworks' welcome as a side panel from the trailer fell off to reveal the four Monster Trucks lying unconcious in the rear of the charred, blackened and bullet-ridden trailer mode of the Overload's transporter. Overload transformed and picked up the debris and wedged it back in place for repairs later.

"High Jump and Tote?" Powertrain asked.

Ironworks shook his head. "I lost contact with them both." He confessed. "I don't think they-" He cut himself short. Powertrain nodded uneasily. Overload set about sorting out his truck and began tinkering with the damaged connections between his truck mode and his trailer. While his transporter's aircraft mode might be damaged, he at least wanted be be able to haul his trailer again. He managed a quick glance at Mudslinger who sat in silence, his attention was taken elsewhere. For all their history, some profitable, some they would each prefer to confine to the archives, they had, for the first time in half a lifetime, successfully co-operated in a mission of mutual interest. Overload closed a hatch that covered his trailer connections in robot form, content that he had repaired himself to satisfaction. His connections with Mudslinger perhaps were not so well-repaired, but the mission had at least been a start.

"You know," Ironworks explained to his partner, "after those explosions at the airfield I lost contact with everyone." He nodded over at Mudslinger. "He turned up first, quite out of the blue. I didn't really expect anyone to make it."

Powertrain smiled. "And just when you thought it was safe to make a quick getaway, we turned up to!" Ironworks smiled a little uneasily, unsure how a Powertrain was able to brush away his brush with death so readily. "It took him a while, but after Fireshot and Vanquish left, Overload was able to come back and find me." He looked at the smashed transporter sat in its trailer mode. "Landing wasn't textbook," he smiled, "but it did the job.

They working in silence for a while before succeeding in reviving both Hydraulic and Heavy Tread. They began to nurse their injuries while their remaining teammates received attention for their own. They looked at each other with mutual shrugs after glancing at Mudslinger, unmoved by their revival. The strong Autobot Truck stood hands on hips staring into the distance. The air was thick with the morning smog that drifted in with the smoke from the wreckage of Airwave's airfield base and the two ernormous explosions a few hours earlier. As the sunlight blossomed from a peek, then a peer then a full-blow shine over the horizon, a familiar beam of optimism dared once more to gleam along the blackened metallic panels that covered the planet Cybertron.

"There," Powertrain finished with a satisfied smile, "that does it." Slow Poke stretched his aching hydraulics and rubbed his wrists as finally he came to. By now Ironworks had brought Big Hauler back to conciousness and the Monster Trucks took their turns to move gingerly about the area, trying to bring life back to their limbs that had spent most of the night inactive. He looked over at Mudslinger, and while he said nothing, Mudslinger's icy stare spoke volumes.

"So what happens now?" Ironworks asked.

"Life goes on." High Jump called from the distance, his limping, scorched body appearing in view. Eight sets of optics immediately turned into the wastelands of the Forlan Delta separating them from Drust as the battered and dented forms of High Jump and Tote emerged from the misty dawn, grins stretching across their charred faces, their paint finish blackened through the explosion in the silo. They were tired, and in need of a full service, but otherwise remarkably unscathed by the Decepticon's ill-fated missile attack.

"You made it!" Ironworks cried once more, talking to his feet, his hands clasped together in front of his face in surprise. "I thought you'd-"

"Never crossed my mind." Tote laughed.

"But I saw you!" Ironworks persisted at High Jump, pointing at his monitors which he had patched directly into the Decepicons' security systems. "I saw you die - twice!"

"Nah," High Jump added, "it takes more than a couple of nukes to bury us."

"But even before that-" Ironworks persisted. "Tracer-"

"Nah," High Jump smiled again, "it was a simple body double. It didn't take Stakeout to deduce I was toast, so I put Direct-Hit in the foxhole position with my guns and let Tracer do the rest." He nodded in deliberation. "I didn't see what happened, but I guess it wasn't pretty."

Tote nodded and filled them in on what High Jump had already explained to him. "Then he just transformed and hooked up Powerpunch to his truck mode and drove right out of there." High Jump nodded, before adding that he had to manually transform the unconcious Decepticon first. "And they saw what they wanted to see." Tote finished.

"Powerpunch being driven out by a grey truck." High Jump nodded.

"It was dark." Tote added. "I suppose it was easy to fool them."

High Jump smiled again with a shrug of self-satisfaction. "It fooled you." He noted. Overload laughed to himself and returned his immediate attention to his trailer.

"But the nukes?" Ironworks questioned. "I told you - you died twice!"

"They never really detonated." High Jump revealed. "One sort of went off in the silo."

"And the other came down before it really made it into the air." Tote added, explaining that it skidded across the runway before crashing heavily in the battle debris that littered the airfield. "The explosions you saw were just the fuel going up due to the impact."

Powertrain stepped forward, offering a welcoming gesture of his own. "And what about the Decepticons?" he asked.

High Jump stopped in front of Overload's transport trailer and looked over at the four soldiers they had rescued. They nodded in respect. They may have missed the fight, but they would have learned a lot in this episode, Big Hauler, Slow Poke and Heavy Tread in particular. High Jump looked back at Powertrain. "They'll be back." He prophesised. "They always come back."

Powertain smiled at the story before giving the duo a quick physical assessment. Aside from the damage High Jump sustained from the two acid-pellets in his arm, the pair were in remarkably good shape, all things considered. Tote turned to face Mudslinger. "And that was some pretty quick thinking out there from you too."

"Yeah?" Mudslinger smiled. "Well, I guess we have Ironworks to thank for that." Ironworks shrugged. "After Tracer left me in the Delta, Ironworks explained how to make a manual missile launcher out of the old drones lying around." He nodded as he remembered. "Talked me right through it. Improvised weaponry: A+." He nodded with another smile.

"Hit and run." Tote smiled. "Then make yourself scarce. Textbook stuff."

"But the missile launcher," High Jump nodded, impressed by the ingenuity. "Genius!"

"I guess I had a good teacher." Mudslinger beamed, glancing at Ironworks.

Ironworks smirked a little uneasily at the flattery from such a hardened soldier as Mudslinger. "Well, it wasn't that hard. I just explained a few-"

"Just take the damned compliment!" Mudslinger interupted, with a grin, looking at Tote. "Goddamned college boy!" He laughed.

"Yeah?" asked Ironworks. "I'm just glad it's all over."

For a moment silence returned before High Jump talked some more with Mudslinger about his improvised weaponry and his pin-point shot on Tracer that gave him the opportunity to slip into the silo. Tote gave Powertrain a friendly pat of the shoulder as he and Ironworks helped Overload fix his trailer. The Monster Trucks listened in silence once more of as the others each took their turn in repeating their tales. Hydraulic and the others felt the enormous pressure of the guilt of their misjudgement of their outcasted ally. For all his history, his collusion with unwelcome partners who now wore the Decepticon insignia, Mudslinger was an Autobot alright, and a brave and valient one at that. The fear of such admission kept the silence, broken only by the clink of a broken communicator High Jump discarded on the ground.

"Mudslinger," began a voice finally. It was Slow Poke. With optics of sorrow and remorse he stepped over to his teammate. "I don't know what to say. You risked your life for us."

"And then you went back to help your friends." Big Hauler nodded walking over to them both. "For what it's worth," he smiled nervously, "I'm sorry. You're a real leader alright."

Heavy Tread nodded, his head momentarily to the ground echoing the stance of his teammates. "Yeah. There's nothing you ever have to do to prove yourself to us." Hydraulic and Big Hauler nodded and chorused their support. Mudslinger glanced over at Powertrain and Ironworks standing uneasily. This hardened unit had been reduced to admission of guilt-laden repentance. They almost felt embarrassed for them. "You've proved your courage," smiled Heavy Tread, "brother." The tall Autobot held out his hand in a gesture of friendship.

Mudslinger smiled arkwardly and stepped forward but said nothing. The microseconds of tension passed like hours. "You still don't get it, do you?" Mudslinger growled finally, pushing Heavy Tread's open palm aside in defiance. "I didn't do anything to prove myself. Not to you or anyone. Not even to myself. I know who I am."

Heavy Tread's optics glanced briefly towards Hydraulic for support. "You're a Monster Trucker alright." Heavy Tread nodded, forcing an uneasy smile and returning to face Mudslinger.

Mudslinger's ironic smile dropped into a fierce grimace. "No!" He bellowed. "I ain't in your team, I ain't your friend and I certainly ain't your brother," he spat. "I did what I did because I'm an Autobot," he boomed, a steely thumb prodding proudly and heavily at his chest, "and because you're an Autobot and because you needed my help." Mudslinger bellowed, thrusting his arm and an outstretched digit on its hand in Heavy Tread's direction, inches from stabbing him between the optics. "But don't let that make you think for one slaggin' second that it means I like you, or that perhaps you and me are ever going to get along." Mudslinger paused as mouths dropped open. "I know who my friends are," Mudslinger glanced over at Tote, High Jump and Powertrain, careful to avoid optic contact with Overload who stood behind them with his trailer, "and you ain't one of them." Mudslinger spat a ball of throat lubricant onto the ground, inches from Heavy Tread's feet. "Brother." He finished with uncloaked irony.

Heavy Tread smirked, stepping back a feeling a little humiliated. Mudslinger stood, arms folded, an unfriendly sneer across his face. The rage from his optics almost penetrated his visor as he stared into those of Heavy Tread. "Come on guys." Heavy Tread announced finally. "We have to get back to Countdown to debrief." Hydraulic nodded, glad of the excuse to leave. The others agreed.

"You can debrief alright." Mudslinger suggested with an angry scowl. "But I'll see you get your justice for disobeying my orders, not once, but twice." He growled. "And that's a promise." The four trucks transformed and left in silence unsure of their future or the punishment they may have in store. All optics lay uneasily on Mudslinger and it was a few seconds before anyone spoke. Mudslinger was an 'angry psycho' at the best of times, as High Jump had described him. This was not the best of times and all were a little concerned what his reaction might be to even the most trivial of statements. There was almost a game of dare to see who might brave saying the next word.

"Well," began the voice of a suprising candidate. It was Ironworks and his voice paled into the peace. "Well," he repeated, "I think we have to get going too." He jerked his head at Overload, who was only to happy for the opportunity to leave Mudslinger well alone. Powertrain barely flinched as Overload began to load Ironworks' base onto his trailer. "Well?" asked Ironworks. Powertrain shrugged and Ironworks raised an optic sensor. "We have a business to run." He smiled.

Powertrain looked around at those that remained and shook his head, raising his hands with a shrug. "This is my business now."

"What?" Ironworks' mouth dropped, his optics panning across the faces of the others in disbelief. "Gun-running for some psychotic service-bots with chips -- no, entire nuggets -- on their shoulders?" Ironworks interupted himself and glanced over at Tote and High Jump whose optics had widened a little at this remark. "No offence." Ironworks added.

High Jump shrugged with a roll of an optic or two. "Huh." Tote snorted curtly. "None taken."

"We don't belong here." Ironworks continued. "Our job is in the construction world," he reminded his partner with a thumb pointed back over his shoulder in the direction of Autobot territory, "not out here on, or in fact, beyond the Front Line."

Powertrain shrugged and smirked a little, his head tipped to one side. "Well I just don't think I can do that any more."

"What, so you're going to turn you back too?" asked Ironworks with disbelief and accompanying arm gestures. "You're going to stop working as a supply truck to the Front Line?"

Powertrain shook his head. "No, I'll keep taking my payloads, just that now I'm not afraid to cross that line any more."

Ironworks stood, his head shaking a little. "I don't know if you are brave, or just stupid."

Powertrain stepped up and offered a hand. "I'll broker a deal with you." He bargained. "You deliver your goods as close to the Front Line as you want, and I'll take them the rest of the way."

"You're really going to do this?" Ironworks scoffed. "You're going to trade lives to play soldier?"

"It's not a game, Ironworks." Powertrain retorted. "I'm living it. I belong on this side of the line and you, it seems, belong on the other." He added with accompanying hand gestures of his own. "And that's just the way it is. For the moment at least." It was a typically assertive statement from Powertrain, concise, bold and accurate. There was no misrepresentation, no malice nor mockery, just a simple summary of the facts as he saw them. Ironworks was his friend and business partner, after all. For now though, in Powertrain's eyes this was how it was.

Ironworks stood in silence for a minute or so weighing up the scenario. The duo had spent their lives hauling materials along the freeways of Cybertron. They were very much of a 'stick-to-the-paths' mentality. Or so he thought. Powertrain, it appeared, was flirting with the notion of a life 'off-road', away from a life of rules and their comfortable by-the-book decisions. He looked at Tote and then at High Jump. They were curt, rude and nestled somewhere in that fine line between confident and arrogant. But while they may have a problem with rules, authority figures or being forced to work with inexperienced rookies, they were also brave, loyal and knew how to take care of themselves and others. Then there was Mudslinger. Where to begin? He was so far from the path he was practically flying. In fact, they were all mavericks in their own way, tough, without comprimise and very much shaped by following their instincts rather than orders. If it was true to suggest Ironworks was a stickler for the 'highways' of life, then it was equally true that these three were 'off-road' alright, and not just in the appearance of their alternate modes. And if Powertrain's new-found independance was for real, then he could not wish for his friend to be in better company.

It was Overload that broke the silence. "Rig's ready." He informed them, stepping forward for a moment and reminding them of his presence. "We'd better make a move." Overload backed off and transformed into his powerful tractor mode and attached himself to his payload. With a shrug and a final shake of the head, Ironworks conceded his friend was to stay. He held out an arm. It was time to go, but he was confident he was leaving Powertrain in safe hands.

With a powerful handshake, the large figures of Ironworks and Powertrain said their goodbyes. Ironworks turned to Tote and High Jump who exchanged nods of respect, before flashing a quick smile and nod of acknowledgement towards the more overbearing figure of Mudslinger. "You did well today." Mudslinger uttered just loud enough for Ironworks to hear. "Both of you." He glanced over at Overload. But the tension in his voice was as clear for Overload as it was for Mudslinger himself. However many years it had been since their paths had last crossed and as likely as it was to be as long again before they would cross again, today was not the time for sentimental acts of forgiveness. But they were talking; it was a start. Ironworks transformed into his vehicle form and followed Overload in the direction of Autobase once more.

They watched the two Autobots disappear from sight. "You guys did well today too." High Jump smiled finally as the dust from the two trucks' departure settled, a little reluctant to accept his own appraisal of the day's events.

"Yeah." Tote echoed with a thoughtful nod. "Not bad."

Powertain smiled. "Not bad for a civi?"

High Jump smiled back but said nothing. "And what about you guys?" Tote asked. "What are you going to do now?"

The pair looked briefly at each other with a shrug. "We'll go and see if we can catch a word with Countdown too." Mudslinger informed them.

"Yeah," nodded Powertrain, "if our 'business' is going to expand, I'm going to need someone to help me on that side of the fence." Powertrain nodded over the ficticious wall between the no-bot's-land where they stood and the Decepticon territory beyond. "And I think I've found the perfect candidate to fill that vacancy."

"And I can't see the rest of guys missing me too much." muttered Mudslinger with a grin and a passing thought to Heavy Tread, Slow Poke and the others.

Tote reached his commincator from a cargo hold. It was broken too and he tossed it over his shoulder somewhere towards that of High Jump's which he had thrown away earlier. "Well in that case say 'hi' to him for us." Tote told them. "Come on High Jump," he suggested with a nod in the direction of Decepticon territory, "we've got a G1750 to rescue." High Jump's smile stretched a little further. By now the Decepticons had probably dismantled the beacon and stripped it to its bare bones for analysis. It was probably held in some secure installation somewhere under armed guard and constant surveillance. It would be a near-impossible and thankless task to go and retrieve it.

It was just the sort of mission for Tote and High Jump.

As the blackened, but one-time grey Autobot transformed into his off-road form, Mudslinger and Powertrain looked a little concerned and surprised as they recalled the acid pellets that had struck his arm a couple of hours earlier. "Shouldn't you be getting back to Fixit?" Powertrain asked.

"I told you," Tote smiled. "it takes more than a shot or two to keep him down." He laughed with a glance at High Jump before switching to his off-road form too. "You guys are alright," he gave them a final word of approval, "and I think you two are going to work well together."

"Yeah," Mudslinger added with a smile, "two's company and all that."

"You've got it!" Tote laughed drawing the same conlusion.

"But, if you ever need any extra help, give us a shout." High Jump added.

"If we aren't up to our necks in Decepticons, that is!" finished Tote with a laugh.

There was a short pause. "And if you guys ever need any help?" Mudslinger cast a knowing glance at Powertrain too.

The natural response for High Jump would have been to remind them that he and Tote were a partnership that needed no help. They had been asked this one hundred times before from one hundred others who felt worthy to offer their assistance. And in each case they had laughed off the sentiment with a dignified but staunchly negative response. Tote, too, was mulling this over. But after all they had been through, never had they felt so connected with any other Autobots. Even in their alternate modes, their silence spoke volumes and natural duality shone. They each knew what each other was thinking. "Two's company." High Jump reminded them again of their adopted idiom, albeit rather unconvincingly.

For all their steadfast partnership of self-reliance and stubborness, a bond had been formed with Powertrain and Mudslinger. It was as clear as it was strong. "Yeah, two's company alright," Tote repeated, "but four's a Patrol." He added.

Powertrain nodded with a smile. "An Off-Road Patrol." He added, as if he had somehow read the mind of Ironworks and his personal assessment of the quartet's temprament.

Internally, Tote nodded too. "If-" he paused, succombing to the internal monologue forcing him to correct himself, "when we need any help," he promised, "then you'll be at the top of our list!"

THE END