Flamestrike's Gauntlet
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. It is not intended for profit. All Transformers characters and settings are property of Hasbro/Takara. Flamestrike is property of Tyrrlin, Codex and Dustoff are property of Coraxonyx.
Author's Note: The primary characters in this story are OC's.
This story was written as a gift for my little sister, Tyrrlin and features her OC, Flamestrike. In Flamestrike's personal history this story fills in the time between when she joined the Autobots and when she was selected to work infiltration for Elita-One. She's basically just out of "Autobot Boot Camp" here. For those familiar with Flamestrike's Earth-mode of a robotic gryphon, she is in her Cybertron-mode of a three-wheeled ground based speeder here.
Codex is my OC and joined the Autobots in the early days of the war. She is not really a soldier and usually serves in more of a technician's role. There is more about Codex in my story "Civilians" which is still in progress. It got stalled while I was writing this. This story takes place in the "Civilians"-verse.
In terms of chronology, we are staying with the G1 continuity; mainly cartoon spiced with a bit of the comic for history purposes. This story takes place approximately two or three vorns before the launching of the Ark.
- - - - - -
Flamestrike was enduring her third orn of rest leave when the call came in from Autobot headquarters.
"Autobot Flamestrike? This is Iacon Central. Stand by for a priority Alpha message," announced the speaker next to the barracks room vidscreen.
Flamestrike, startled and excited by the unexpected call, swung down from the recharge berth where she had been trying to read an instructional datafile on routine weapon maintenance. It was something important; Alpha calls came straight from the Command element at Autobase.
"Autobot Flamestrike here. Go ahead Command," she said crisply, standing to attention even though the vidscreen had not come on with the audio.
"Flamestrike? This is Elita-One." The rich voice was definitely that of the Autobot Lieutenant Commander. "I'm sorry to interrupt your leave, but a mission has come up and I believe you are the right Autobot to carry it out. It's quite urgent."
"I'm ready for action, ma'am." Flamestrike said, pleased to have the tedium of mandatory rest relieved by the promise of an interesting assignment. Despite the advice of the wily old 'bot who had drilled her group of beginning soldiers to "…rest and recharge as often as They let ya", Flamestrike had trouble enjoying her off duty time.
"I know you are, Flamestrike," Elita-One said. "You are to report to Autobase in two cycles for a mission briefing. Be sure to be charged and equipped to leave. Like I said, we have a limited operational window."
"Understood, Commander," said Flamestrike.
"Good. Elita-One out," and with that the speaker clicked off.
Flamestrike speculated on the possible assignment she was being given as she stowed her datapad and few loose belongings in the wall locker behind her berth and checked her weapons. She doubted that she was being moved to any of the heavy combat hotspots. If that had been the case, her name would have simply appeared on the troop deployment list. In fact, a troop transport was leaving the in the next two orns and her name hadn't been on that list. She had checked the roster enough times to be sure of that.
Perhaps the Commander was going to have her run a message somewhere. The Autobot Command had recently been reminded about her past as a runner for the Autobot Council. She was speedy and had an almost uncanny knack for navigating Cybertron's complex planet-wide transit system. That second skill had recently saved her small patrol in the Tagon Heights when they were ambushed by an overpowered Decepticon force. She had led her squad underground and back up behind the 'cons; scoring several decisive casualties before escaping cleanly from the engagement. Her unit leader, a line veteran named Brawn, had been so pleased with their success and safe return that he had granted her five orns of leave and had forwarded a commendation to Headquarters. She hadn't been expecting anything to come of it, as she disliked being singled out for special attention, but apparently someone at HQ thought otherwise.
Well, a courier run with a high security message would warrant a Command level assignment. And a solo courier run would allow her to control the entire mission, virtually ensuring her success. Her systems revved in pleased anticipation as she walked down the hallway, drawing a few startled looks and amused smiles from passing Autobots.
Frowning at the unwanted attention, she forced herself to idle down and kept her optics focused straight ahead as she proceeded out of the base.
She emerged from the complex of squat, reinforced buildings in the shadow of the great anti-aircraft cannons that protected Iacon's border from Decepticon aerial incursions. She looked up at the guns silhouetted against the sparkling stars and vented deeply once before transforming into her sleek and speedy tri-wheeled vehicle form. She had a long run to Autobase at the center of the sector. It was time to go.
- - - - - -
Precisely one cycle and fifteen breems later, Flamestrike pulled up smartly at the Autobase security checkpoint. She transformed and saluted, standing to attention while a pair of burly security mechs scanned her and checked her ID codes against the clearance list. When the "all clear" came back, the red and black guard pointed towards the huge golden decagonal building that dominated the nearby horizon.
"You're early, but Elita's waiting for you around the back. Just follow the curve of that building to the big doors. You can't miss them. Got it?" he asked with a grin and a flippant little salute.
"Understood," she replied, returning his salute correctly and transforming to glide smoothly away. Behind her the cheeky red 'bot mumbled something and laughed. His yellow counterpart merely grunted. She wondered what he had found so funny. Had it been her salute? Well, any mech assigned to Headquarters should have some sense of military protocol. The guard's lack of military bearing was probably the reason he was working security duty on a little-used internal gate. She pushed the incident aside and sped onward.
The building ahead, the famed Decagon, seethed with activity. Autobots in vehicle and primary forms filled the lanes and plazas and rushed in and out of doors around the building's perimeter. The air was filled with the lively hum of conversation, overlaid with the crackle of radio traffic as hover sleds and a few of the rare Autobot fliers swooped above. High above the sky echoed with a rumbling roar as an Autobot shuttle soared off-world on a column of blazing flame.
Flamestrike picked her way nimbly through the traffic as she followed the gate guard's directions. She passed several doors she would have fairly qualified as large, some open and showing busy work and repair bays, others sealed and silent. She knew she was finally in the right place though when she arrived at the set of cavernous doors that opened wide into a huge work area large enough to allow a Guardian to pass through with ease. Elita-One stood by the side of the entrance, looking very tiny in comparison to the open door, although the female Autobot stood two full heads taller than Flamestrike. She was accompanied by another Autobot, a black and white mech, built more for speed than power. He smiled broadly as Flamestrike pulled up and transformed.
"Ah, just in time," Elita-One said. "Have you met Autobot Jazz?" she asked, indicating her companion.
"No, Ma'am," said Flamestrike. "Autobot Jazz, my designation is Flamestrike."
"Pleased t'meetcha," Jazz said with a cheery salute and another warm smile. "Elita tells me you really know your way around Cybertron."
"I am familiar with the navigation of our planet, yes…Sir," Flamestrike said somewhat hesitantly. She knew that Jazz was highly placed in the command staff, serving directly under the Prime, but she could not remember his precise rank. Had anyone ever mentioned it? Well, "Sir" was a safe enough answer.
"Great," Jazz said. "We have an urgent mission and Elita has chosen you to be on the team."
"Team, Sir?" Flamestrike's enthusiasm drained like old mech fluid. Why did no one in the command structure understand that she worked best alone?
But Jazz didn't seem to notice her less than thrilled tone. "Yep, a small team, but a crucial one," he said blithely as he gestured for them to follow him into the enormous hangar. A huge black Autobot was standing in the middle of the room and chatting amiably to the technician working on a component in his leg. Jazz led Flamestrike and Elita-One up to the big mech. "Flamestrike, I'd like you to meet Dustoff. He's my department's best insertion and extraction specialist."
The big mech looked down at the group and inclined his head in a friendly nod. Flamestrike noticed the wing-mounted VTOL boosters arching over his shoulders. Obviously he was some type of flyer. "Jazz, I'm your ONLY, uh, 'insertion and extraction specialist', so don't bother putting any chrome on the muffler," Dustoff said in a deep, quiet voice.
"Ha," laughed Jazz dryly. "You're too modest, Duster, you've never fumbled a payload yet. That makes you the best in my opinion."
"Whatever," the big mech said and turned to the technician. "What's the word, Wheeljack? Do I check out?"
"Your internals are A-OK," the technician said, consulting the instrument he held in one hand. "He's clear to fly, Jazz."
"Thanks, 'Jack," Jazz said with another warm smile. He picked up a gray datapad from the technician's table and consulted it briefly before continuing. "Here's the run down: our Special Intelligence Unit intercepted and decoded a message from the Decepticon High Command less than an orn ago. Included in that message was a building schematic that we are certain is the location of top secret Decepticon research and development data, including their signals and spy cassette program. Optimus Prime thinks we can come up with an effective counter to the 'cons' spy cassettes if we can get those plans. The message, the map of the facility and the system access codes are all here," he held up the datapad, "with Codex."
Flamestrike scanned the datapad curiously. Unless Jazz was in the habit of naming his equipment, and that didn't seem too likely. She had missed something. Granted, she had been distracted by the big flyer and the technician but she hadn't realized that there was another Autobot in the area. The datapad-former must be another member of their team. She inwardly chastised herself for not paying better attention to her surroundings.
Jazz continued. "We have to get this done quickly, 'cause some 'con is eventually gonna realize that their message has been intercepted. So, Duster will fly 'Dex and Flamestrike to Kaon sector. Flamestrike will find the way to the lab where the plans are kept and sneak them both inside. Then Codex'll pull the plans and she and Flamestrike will get them out and call Dustoff for pickup. The faster you do this, the less time there'll be to sound an alarm. I hate to say it, but we can't provide you any back-up. Kaon is in the center of Decepticon territory. That's why we're keeping the team small and exclusive," he paused and looked at them seriously. "You've all heard the plan. Like our Prime, I only send volunteers on this kind of mission. If any of you want to back out, now's the time. We can get someone else."
The datapad dropped out of Jazz's hand and transformed. A small grey femme landed lightly on the technician's table. "I'm ready to go," Codex, said with an emphatic nod.
Dustoff also nodded, rumbling a wordless agreement.
Jazz and Elita-One turned to Flamestrike. The candid gaze of their glowing blue optics made her uncomfortable, but she owed them an honest reply. This wasn't the solo mission she had been expecting. They were asking her to go in blind and with an unknown team. Could she really just turn it down? It was a dangerous mission, but she didn't think much of just giving it up. This was obviously important. They had chosen her; she would have to trust that choice. She straightened and nodded. "I am prepared as well," she said.
"Great! So, in the words of our illustrious leader," Jazz said with a flickering wink at Elita-One, "Autobots, Transform and Roll Out!"
Everyone took a step back as Dustoff spun through his transformation, settling down at last as a massive flying gunship. His wings were arched out from the sides of his frame and each contained a powerful anti-gravity thruster that began to whir into activity. He lowered a ramp and Codex dashed inside calling out, "I get the minigun!"
Flamestrike was taken aback and looked at Elita-One and Jazz questioningly. "I thought this was a stealth mission," she said.
The Autobot Lieutenant Commander smiled and chuckled at her frankly skeptical tone, "She's just joking. Codex has lots of experience with infiltration. You'll be fine."
"Yeah, Codex is a pro," said Jazz. "They both are."
Flamestrike nodded again and walked up the ramp to the cockpit. Codex had already strapped herself into one of the small jump seats, leaving the larger central seat unoccupied. As Flamestrike sat down and fastened the safety harness she could feel the bump and sway as Dustoff rose into the air and sped away. She gripped the sides of her seat and looked down through the transparent front canopy at Iacon's golden lights far below them.
- - - - - -
"So, what did you do before the war?" Codex asked.
They were only six breems into the flight and the little femme had already quizzed Flamestrike about where she was from (Iacon), who she knew at headquarters (no one beyond Elita-One) and her current function (light infantry). Codex's curiosity seemed to be insatiable and every answer spurred a new question. Like the current one.
"I was a Council runner," she said shortly.
"I though Jazz said something like that. Explains why you know your way around Cybertron. I never made it to Kaon before the war, too bad really. Hey, Dustoff, have you been to Kaon before?"
"Of course I have," Dustoff's voice said through the speakers on his internal control panel. "Didn't get much time for sightseeing, though."
"Right," said Codex, chuckling. "I guess you don't. Funny how you've been there more since the war started than I've ever been. I've seen lots of images, though."
"You've seen images of everything," Dustoff said mildly.
"Not everything," Codex said thoughtfully. "Anyway, Flamestrike, we do have a map if we need one."
"Do you have the coordinates for the building?" Flamestrike asked. Maybe if she kept the chatty little femme concentrated on the mission, she would not have to endure any more irritating small talk.
"Sure, and the layout, too," Codex said, un-strapping her safety harness and hopping down from the jump seat. She moved to the console in front of Flamestrike and looked up at her. "Can I get a boost? I don't like clambering around here when he's flying," she said, pointing to a flat section of the console above her head.
Flamestrike lifted the smaller femme gently to the indicated spot and Codex transformed into her datapad form again. The screen on the datapad lit up showing a green wire frame schematic of Cybertron's southern sectors. As she watched, the image filled in, overlaying familiar terrain features and roads.
A huge block of a building continued to glow green near the center of the dark grey city, this was their objective, the science annex of Decepticon Headquarters. Codex zoomed in the image, showing the blueprints in a separate frame. Flamestrike studied the screen carefully. She located two ground level access points in the blueprint that looked promising. She committed them to memory, plotting her best route to each.
"How far away is the drop-off?" she asked, looking out of the canopy at the lights of the planet below.
"Several kils," Dustoff replied. "I'm taking advantage of a blind spot in their sensors on the Sonic Canyon side to get you in over the perimeter, but the building you want is in the center of the sector. Hope you don't mind a little bit of a run."
"No," Flamestrike smiled to herself. "I like to run."
"Well, I don't like to get caught," Codex said dryly, "So I had Wheeljack come up with some disguises." A purple Decepticon badge slid out of the side of the datapad. Flamestrike picked it up. It was made of circuit board with a magnetic back.
"These have a limited lifespan, so we won't use them until we land. They'll mask our energy signatures and map a holo-image over our frames. Just slap it on over your Autobot sigil to activate it."
"This is clever," Flamestrike said admiringly.
"We don't have their radio frequencies, though, so you can't stop to chat too long. They'll notice if you don't respond to radio hails or private communication," Codex cautioned.
"Understood," Flamestrike replied. A disguise would definitely help. They might pull this off after all.
- - - - -
Dustoff came in low through the Sonic Canyons. The sky over Kaon blazed fiery red from the reflected light of the infamous Smelting Pools in the center of the city-state. As they drew closer the sector's perimeter wall loomed high above, hiding the crimson glow. The gunship swooped up to the wall, stalled briefly to slow and began to rise nearly silently up and over the border into the Decepticons' home sector.
As Flamestrike and Codex tensed in preparation, Dustoff lowered himself into the debris strewn yard behind an abandoned workshop that backed onto Kaon's perimeter wall. The space was barely big enough for him to land in, but he settled to the ground as lightly as a carbon filament.
He lowered the cockpit ramp and they listened intently for any sound of alarm. All was quiet. In the distance was a faint noise of activity, but the immediate area was deserted.
"I'll wait for you here," Dustoff said as the two femmes climbed down from the cockpit. "I'll stay hidden as long as I can, but I'm too big to sneak around. Radio me if there's a change in plans."
"We will," Codex said turning to pat the gunship's sloping nose affectionately. "Don't get too bored."
"I won't," he said shortly. The little femme lingered for a moment and pressed her forehead to the metallic surface of Dustoff's prow. Then she turned and walked briskly to join Flamestrike at the half-broken gate that led to the street.
"Got your bearings?" Codex asked as she carefully applied the "disguise kit" over the red Autobot insignia on her abdomen.
"Yes," Flamestrike said, applying her own patch.
Their outlines shimmered momentarily and resettled. Gray Codex had changed little, although her optics were now a bright red and her frame had been subtly reshaped to a bulkier outline. Flamestrike's own appearance was more substantially altered. Her brilliant red and yellow colors had become drab maroon and ocher. Her optics blazed crimson and her slender racer's form had become harsh and angular. They were a pair of suitably vicious-looking Deceptions now.
"Let's go then," Codex said in a husky voice, several tones lower than normal.
Flamestrike transformed. The severe angles of her disguise carried over to her alt. form as well. She opened a door and Codex climbed inside.
"Keep moving, and try to stay away from anyone else. If you do get stopped, our cover is that you are delivering an important slate of data to one of the scientists at the lab. That's me. You're a runner from Altihex, recently arrived in Kaon. You weren't given a name to deliver to, just a destination and a lab access code, got it?" Codex said as she transformed.
"Got it," Flamestrike muttered. She pulled out onto the street and sped away from the workshop. She hoped she wouldn't encounter anyone who might question her flimsy phony story.
- - - - - -
Kaon had always been a rough sector. Even before the war, a smart runner would enter by the quickest route; drop off his message, and go. Aimless wandering around the twisting streets could easily wind up with a 'bot's becoming intimately familiar with Kaon's fighting culture, whether he wanted to or not. Flamestrike knew more than one courier who had returned to Iacon a few credits, or limbs, lighter than he had left.
Strangely, the sector was in better repair than most of the other states on Cybertron. First to fall and longest in Decepticon hands, it had been shaped into the embodiment of their ideals of strength and power. Decepticon warriors and elites were all flyers. Some barely deigned to touch the ground. So the city had been reshaped, growing up and out to provide commanding views and many rooftop landing pads.
At ground level, the city was a maze, poorly lit and closed to the sky. Menial laborers, fringe followers and petty criminals wound up here. They were (sometimes literally) the thin layer of grease that lubricated the gears of the Decepticon war machine. Indeed, it was not unknown for ground dwellers to be swept up by the Decepticon Security Forces and parted out or melted down in the Smelting Pits when raw materials for the war effort were in short supply.
Flamestrike was acutely aware of the danger as she sped through the dim, grimy streets. She passed through the quiet, industrial outer sectors without encountering more than a few other travelers, all intent on their own business and perfectly willing to ignore her. Within a cycle, she closed in on the Arena at the heart of the sector. The stadium and its environs were the first major obstacle between her and her objective. There was more traffic here, and activity of all kinds. The Arena was the central fixture in Kaon's leisure district. Oil houses, gaming parlors, and refit shops lined the streets around the stadium on all sides. Off-duty soldiers bickered and haggled with street merchants. Information was traded and high-grade energon flowed freely. It was a showcase of venial depravity in all its forms.
Flamestrike's progress slowed, and came to a halt as the crowds grew thick in front of her. Listening to the noisy conversation between a singed and dinged warrior and a gangly merchant-bot next to her as she idled on the street, she gathered that a troopship had returned from the colonies earlier that orn and the war-weary troops had been given liberty as soon as they landed.
Combat troops, recently off the line, descending upon a civilian population determined to cheat and swindle them to within an inch of their operating capacity was a program for trouble. Flamestrike needed to get out of this area before the inevitable fights began.
She transformed, popping datapad Codex out as she did and catching her neatly. They'd make slower progress on foot, but they would be able to get through the crowds. She headed off toward the Arena. Flamestrike's practiced habits of unobtrusiveness served her well here. She was occasionally bumped and jostled, but she made steady progress towards her goal. As she passed the Arena, she could hear the screams of the crowd enjoying the violent sport that had spawned and still sustained the Decepticon movement. She idly wondered if Megatron still took his turn in the ring that had brought him to power. 'Probably not', she concluded and moved on.
She had almost cleared this part of the sector before she hit the first snag.
She was proceeding along a street on the far side of the Arena when a security patrol came into view and began heading in her direction. The five mech team was moving slowly but deliberately on their way, red scanning beams lancing out to flicker over the chassis of each mech they passed. Suddenly her holo-disguise felt painfully inadequate. She needed to get out of sight before the patrol got to her. Glancing to the left, she spotted a narrow alley and ducked inside. She squeezed herself down behind a pile of crates and waited. Astroseconds crawled by, but she forced herself to remain still.
"Hey!" Codex tight-beamed to her comm. "What's going on?"
"Security patrol," Flamestrike sent back.
"So? Why'd you stop? We have to keep moving," Codex urged.
The alley mouth glittered red as the patrol drew level with their hiding place. Flamestrike tensed. The sound of metallic feet was loud for a moment, then faded.
"That was close, close," rasped a strange voice from behind Flamestrike. She whirled. Emerging from the gloom were three dark shapes. Two red visors and one red set of optics regarded her curiously as the black and purple Decepticons stepped into the light.
"Why hello there," said the one with sweeping straight-bladed wings rising from his shoulders. "Looks like we're not the only ones interested in avoiding the security forces tonight, eh fellows?"
"Apparently not, Kickback," said the one with the grilled mouth plate. "I wonder. What brings this wayward fellow into our alley?"
"I, uh, I…" Flamestrike stammered. What should she say?
"Tell them something. You're going to make them suspicious." Codex snapped over their private frequency.
"I'm making a delivery." Flamestrike blurted.
"A delivery? To us, us?" the third asked in his raspy voice. This one had arching chrome blades that curved over his head.
"N-no, somewhere else," she didn't like this at all, but if she ran or made a fuss it might attract the attention of the security patrol.
"Somewhere else, eh?" Kickback asked silkily. "And I'm guessing from your reluctance to meet up with our esteemed protectors of peace and tranquility that this delivery may not be completely licit. Am I right?"
"Uh, I guess so." Flamestrike said. Were they going to turn her in? No, probably not, they were hiding from the patrol, too. Who were these three? They certainly didn't act like any Decepticon warriors she had encountered before.
"He 'guesses so', Bombshell," Kickback said to the one with the face mask. "Tsk, tsk, what is our glorious state coming to?"
"For shame, Kickback," Bombshell replied, shaking his head slowly.
"Shame, shame," the third echoed.
Flamestrike felt a hot surge of anger. Were they scolding her? Or teasing her? Who did they think they were?
"Well, you're in luck, delivery 'bot," Kickback said brightening and coming close to clap a hand on Flamestrike's shoulder. She winced, but couldn't pull away from his clinging grip.
"Luck?" she asked. His hand on her shoulder was distracting. She wasn't comfortable with being touched, and this was a Decepticon. She fought down the urge to hit him and run.
"Certainly," he said with a kindly smile. "You see, my friends and I just happen to be in the delivery business ourselves. And, as fellow couriers we are willing to protect you from the shame of illegal dealings and the inevitable displeasure of the powers-that-be by taking your delivery the next step of the way."
"We are, are?" the third Decepticon asked.
"Indeed we are, Shrapnel," Kickback said graciously. "In exchange for the courier's fee, of course, it's only fair," he concluded.
"Oh," Flamestrike said, "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I have to deliver this myself." She moved her shoulder, trying to break their contact, but the shorter mech hung on tight. How was she going to get out of this? If she handed Codex over to them, they were going to find her out.
"Really? Why is that?" Bombshell asked, darting forward and snatching the datapad out of Flamestrike's hand.
"Hey," Flamestrike said too late. She turned to grab the datapad back, but was confronted by Shrapnel. He swatted her hand away, jolting her system with a tingling sting of electrical charge.
"Be patient, patient," he warned, spreading his fingers to show the electricity arcing between the digits.
Bombshell ignored their byplay. Instead he examined the datapad closely and turned it on, scrolling through several screens of data. His optics grew steadily narrower as he read each screen. Finally he turned back to Flamestrike and forced the datapad back into her hands.
"It's your disassembly," he said shortly and motioned for his companions. The three Decepticons walked out of the alley together and turned to go down the street.
Flamestrike cupped the datapad in her hands and sank down on a crate in relief. "What happened?" she asked softly.
"There are some things too unpleasant even for lowlife scum like them," Codex said smugly. "Usurping Megatron happens to be one of them."
"What?" Flamestrike gasped. "Overthrow Megatron?"
"Quiet!" Codex radioed. "Those three are probably not the only slag hanging around here. It's a diversion. I have fake communiqués from certain elements in the Decepticon high command plotting the overthrow of their leader. The street level riff raff are not going to want to be associated with anything like that."
"I guess not," Flamestrike sent back. "He almost dropped you like you were corrosive," she said with a little laugh.
"It was Jazz's idea. But it only works because the 'cons are so afraid of Megatron," Codex replied shortly. "Are you read to move on, then?"
In answer, Flamestrike rose and tucked the datapad under her arm. Then looking up the street to confirm the absence of Kickback and his friends, she proceeded on her way.
- - - - -
They did not encounter any further delays on their way. As they passed through the sector the streets became wider and more and more deserted. The area around the Decepticons' looming headquarters building was abandoned completely, although dome-headed Guardian drones stood motionless at each entrance. She knew the drones could be activated to defend the building within a nanosecond, so she took care to move carefully. Flamestrike kept strictly to the designated pathways as she wound her way around to the Science Annex.
This building was a vast rectangular block, seemingly short next to the ambitiously climbing spires of the main command tower nearby. It was truly enormous, however, housing several weapons fabrication facilities, a power collection center and an aerospace design and testing workshop in addition to countless labs, barracks, and training rooms.
Flamestrike's chosen entrance had been designated for mixed traffic. As she pulled up and transformed a drone arm extended from the door and scanned her. A moment later, a toneless voice said, "Unfamiliar entrant: access code required."
Flamestrike repeated the code as Codex flashed the digits on her display. They waited anxiously until the voice said, "Access granted. Take security tab upon entry. Remain within authorized areas. Use of deadly force is authorized for all infractions."
The drone arm withdrew and the door rose. Flamestrike entered and collected the purple and green security tab from a wall slot. She applied it to her chassis directly below the fake faction symbol. The door behind rattled closed and she paused to vent once. They were inside.
There was one exit from the loading bay into the building. Flamestrike walked through the door into the wide corridor on the other side.
"Where do we go from here?" she asked Codex over their radio link.
"Just keep walking until you come to an access panel for the network," the code breaker replied. "I can plug in there and track down the data. It won't take long."
Flamestrike consulted the building schematic that Codex brought up and turned right to go down the corridor. She passed by a few closed and darkened labs before she came to an alcove that housed a wall-mounted data terminal.
"Will this one work?" she asked, looking up and down the corridor. It remained empty and quiet.
"This is fine," Codex sent. "Plug this cable into the round port there."
Flamestrike stretched the cable up and inserted it into the port on the terminal. Then she put the datapad down on the floor and stepped back.
The map of the building vanished, to be replaced by a revolving Decepticon sigil in violent purple. Below the sigil flashed a cursor.
X System required
X Processing code…code confirmed
X Network directory loading
The screen flashed as Codex sifted through the network to find the data they were after. Ten astroseconds passed, then twenty, thirty…
"Slag! It's not here," Codex sent in exasperation as her screen flickered and went black.
"Did they move it?" Flamestrike asked. Had their mission been compromised? Flamestrike pulled her weapon and looked up and down the corridor for emerging guards.
"No! Put that thing away. What if the cameras see you?" Codex warned. "The data we want is stored on a stand-alone system in one of the upper labs."
"You can't access it?" Flamestrike asked, concealing her weapon again. Had they come all this way for nothing?
"No. That's what "stand-alone system" means," Codex sent acidly. "We're going to have to find the right room and pull it from the system there."
Flamestrike huffed in irritation. She didn't want to get trapped further in the complex. "How are we ever going to find the right room in this place?"
"I know where it should be. It's an empty spot in the network." Codex replied. "Unplug me and I'll direct you."
Flamestrike stooped and jerked the cable out of the port. If they had to go further, then they should hurry.
"Ow," Codex sent. "Be gentle with those."
"Sorry," Flamestrike muttered. Codex was bossy, and Flamestrike was anxious but that was no excuse for damaging her teammate.
"No damage done. Don't worry. We can do this, right?" Codex sent encouragingly.
"Yes," Flamestrike said softly. She was in this far. She had to see it through.
"Good," Codex sent as Flamestrike carried her down the hall along a path laid out on the building schematic. "The room we want is in the high security area, so we're going to have to get you an access badge."
"How are we going to do that?" Flamestrike asked.
"We're going to borrow one," Codex sent with a sub-vocal chuckle.
- - - - -
Codex's plan for "borrowing" a badge was relatively simple. Flamestrike was to proceed toward their objective. Along the way, she should watch for a technician with a red tag. The red tags were the highest level of access for the facility. Once she marked a technician she was to get him alone and hand him the datapad. Codex would take it from there.
Flamestrike was getting tired of being the drone transport for this demanding little package. She knew she could probably find a way to lift a badge without having to confront one of the technicians, but Codex said they didn't have time to argue about it. So she was watching, and walking.
The majority of the technicians here were of the general blocky Decepticon body type with a few of the elegant Seekers and other more exotic types for variety. She spotted one or two of the red tags they wanted, but the technicians were bustling around and did not stop when she approached them.
In fact, "optics front, no talking" seemed to be the general order here. At an Autobot facility the technicians would have chatted with one another as they walked and acknowledged a stranger with a nod or friendly greeting, but here all was silent but for the mechanical noise of the building and the whirr and thud of walking feet.
"You're going to have to make your move," Codex nudged. "We're running out of time."
Flamestrike vented in exasperation. Her systems revved. "I am trying!" she shot back. 'You try walking up and starting a conversation with a mech who is trying to ignore you and just might vaporize you if he realizes what it is you really want,' she thought angrily to herself.
She was so irritated with Codex that she almost missed a little blue mech ducking into a dark lab as she rounded the corner. Thankfully the movement caught her attention and she got to the door in time to catch it before it closed completely. She pressed her audio to the crack and heard a nasal, snarling voice say, "The Boss is very disappointed with your delay, Scavenger. He thinks you're holding out on him."
"What? No. I'd never do anything like that, Rumble," a second, slightly gravelly voice said from near a desk in the corner of the dark lab.
"That's good," Rumble replied. "You see, the Boss worked hard to get you this assignment. He was thinking that you didn't appreciate his help."
"No, that's not it at all," Scavenger protested. "I do appreciate Soundwave's help. I really do. It's just, um, the project has hit a snag."
"What kind of snag?" Rumble said, softly.
"From what I understand there's a problem with the gestalt technology causing a loss of intelligence in the combined form. The others don't want to proceed until they determine if this problem can be fixed," Scavenger said.
"What does that mean?" Rumble asked, sounding slightly confused.
"It means that if we go ahead now we might end up with a weapon we can't control. And none of us want that, do we?" Scavenger asked anxiously.
"I guess not," Rumble said slowly. "But the Boss isn't gonna be patient with you much longer. You guys had better fix this problem soon."
"Oh, we will. Tell Soundwave I'll notify him as soon as we're ready for the first test," Scavenger said quickly.
"I'll do that," Rumble said. "Now you leave first. I don't want to be seen talking to you."
"Right, Rumble, whatever you say," Scavenger said.
There was a sound of feet coming toward the door and Flamestrike had a bare second to duck into an alcove across the hall before a bulky green and purple technician came out of the room and walked down the corridor away from them.
Now's your chance, Codex sent. "Rumble'll have clearance for the area we need. Let's go get him."
Before Flamestrike could protest, the datapad dropped from her hand and transformed. Codex sprinted down the hallway and grabbed the door to the lab. She beckoned to Flamestrike.
Their moment had arrived. Flamestrike crossed to the door and the two femmes stepped inside the dark room.
"I thought I told you to leave," Rumble said, turning from between two large lab tables to face them, optics glowing red. "Hey, you aren't Scavenger. Who are you guys?"
"Trust me, its better if you don't know," said Codex, charging at the little Decepticon.
Rumble was surprised by her sudden move and the two went down together in a pile of flailing limbs. Flamestrike ran up to try and help, but in the darkness, it was hard to tell which little combatant was which. Nightvision didn't help much either. She hovered anxiously, trying to decide what to do.
"Nrrgh," Rumble grunted. He managed to work an arm free of his clinging attacker and activated his pile driver. He brought the compressor around in a wide arc and batted the other off his body and across the room. The robot crashed into the wall and landed in a heap on the floor.
"Codex!" Flamestrike gasped.
Rumble regained his feet and looked up at the larger stranger looming over him. "Codex? Who's Codex?" he asked. "Who're you?"
"Nobody," Flamestrike said.
"Grab him!" Codex called weakly from the floor where she had fallen. "Don't let him get away."
Flamestrike reached down to grab the little Decepticon, but he jumped back out of her reach. "What do you guys think you're doing?" he asked, readying his pile drivers.
Flamestrike tried another grab, and he tagged her smartly on the arm, leaving a large, painful dent. The arm still felt functional, though. She flexed her hand.
"Cut it out, you guys," Rumble said. "I'm gonna call Security."
"Not so brave without Soundwave around, are you, Rumble?" Codex taunted as she got shakily to her feet.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he snarled, backing up slightly and turning to face her.
"You're a punk, Rumble," Codex said, moving around the table slowly. "So brave when you're threatening someone for your Boss, or setting up an ambush, but give you a fair fight and you run to the big 'bots to save you."
"How is this fair? Two on one?" he called back shifting again to keep her in sight.
"Fight me, then, but deactivate the pile drivers," she said moving sideways to face him down an open aisle between tables.
"And your big friend?" he asked jerking his head at Flamestrike.
"He'll stay out of the way," Codex said putting her hands on her hip joints.
"Right," Rumble said sarcastically as he turned again to face Codex. "I don't know who you are or what this is about, but nobody calls me a coward…"
"NOW, FLAMESTRIKE!" Codex tight-beamed in a silent shout.
Without completely realizing what she was doing, Flamestrike surged forward and grabbed Rumble in a tight grip, pinning his pile driver arms against his torso. Codex dashed down the aisle and clambered up Flamestrike's leg. The grey femme clung to her partner's arm as Rumble wriggled and grunted to get free.
As Flamestrike clamped down tight, Codex retracted her hand and snapped out a pointed data probe. In one savage movement she drove the probe into the side of Rumble's neck. Rumble keened wordlessly as Codex's optics flickered and flashed and her probe-hand pressed into his neck. Rumble went limp in Flamestrike's arms.
She almost dropped his inert weight when Codex spoke in a toneless voice. "Put him on the table and switch his security tag with yours."
Flamestrike did so, stepping back. The little grey femme crouched over the Decepticon for a few more moments. Then she stepped back and withdrew the probe from his neck. Without looking at Flamestrike she transformed into her datapad form again.
Flamestrike gingerly picked up the datapad and walked to the door of the lab. Behind her, the motionless form of the little Decepticon lay like an accusation. She paused to check the hall; it was still eerily silent. She slipped through the door and walked away following the restored map on the screen.
They went up several levels and past the security checkpoint into the Restricted Area. Each meter they walked away from the lab increased her anxiety. They had deactivated a Decepticon and just left him in a lab for anyone to find. Eventually he was going to be found or missed. When that happened; they were going to be captured and imprisoned and tortured and melted down. She should just abort the mission right now. She should turn around and go back, hit the street and run. That was the sensible thing to do. But her feet carried her forward, following the path laid out on the green diagram.
Finally the path on the map reached its end. She stood in a nameless corridor deep within the building. The rooms here had thick doors and warning signs were plastered on the doors and walls all around. They had left the labs and work areas a level below. Cameras idly swept the halls here. Flamestrike turned to look at the door in front of her. It had a keypad lock next to the operation panel. The lock light glowed sullenly red.
"It's locked," she sent hesitantly to Codex.
"Thought it might be," Codex replied. "We have to be quick before we're noticed. Shove these leads in on either side of the keypad," she said, reeling out a cable with two metallic prongs on the end.
Flamestrike stuck the prongs in next to the keys. And stood close, shielding the lock from the camera with her back. The datapad's screen rapidly scrolled with glowing numbers. The combination sequence was picked out of the scroll one digit at a time and settled in red at the top of the screen. The red numbers suddenly flashed green and the door slid open. Flamestrike extracted the probes from the keypad and carried the datapad into the room.
The room was dominated by a monstrous computer terminal in a heavy locked case. A single access screen was on the side of the terminal that faced the door. Flamestrike walked up to the machine and put Codex on the narrow shelf below the access screen. Codex transformed and looked up at the screen.
"We have one chance at this," she said, turning to face Flamestrike. "You need to watch the hall and make sure no one comes while we're in here. If someone does come, stall them. If I'm interrupted while I'm downloading the data I could lose it all. Do you understand?"
"I do" Flamestrike replied. "But what are we going to do if someone catches us here?"
"We'll deal with that if it happens," Codex said. "I have to focus on this now." She turned from the door to address the access panel.
"When it happens…" Flamestrike muttered to herself as she took her position by the door.
Codex didn't reply. She reached up and slid a cable from the knot at the back of her helm. She plugged the cable into a port on the access panel. The screen lit up with the same purple Decepticon sigil as the systems elsewhere in the building. She peered at the screen and the green cursor appeared.
X System required
X Processing code…code confirmed
X Network directory loading…
There was a noise outside the closed door. Flamestrike readied her pistol. Steady tramping footfalls approached. It sounded like at least two Decepticons. The noise stopped outside the door.
"Which room are they in, Astrotrain?" said a gravelly voice from outside the room.
"If I knew that, you dummy, I wouldn't have stopped, now would I?" snapped a lighter, tinny voice. "We're going to have to check all the rooms in this corridor. You get started over there. I'll do this side."
"Fine, fine," the other voice grumbled. "You sure they're on this floor?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Now get to work, Blitzwing," Astrotrain ordered.
"I am," Blitzwing said.
Flamestrike stepped back from the door to open and raised her pistol. But the door didn't open. The footsteps faded away slightly, but she could still hear the Decepticons moving around in the hall. She checked Codex at the terminal again. Should she warn her about the Decepticons? The little code breaker was staring intently at the machine, fingers flying on the keypad. Obviously this was not a good time to break her concentration.
X Router access…granted
X Router setting…altered
X Database access….DENIED
Flamestrike noticed a red light flashing on the terminal. What was Codex doing? Flamestrike wasn't a systems expert, but she knew what Access Denied meant.
There was a movement in the hall outside. Flamestrike lifted her weapon again, but the door remained closed. She turned back to her partner.
X Database access…DENIED
"MWRAAP, MWRAAP, MWRAAP!" a klaxon's shriek filled the room with its strident racket. Flamestrike jumped. The noise must be audible out in the hall, but it was so loud that she couldn't hear anything on the other side of the door. She braced her weapon, waiting for the door to move.
"KRZAP! BLAM!" Flamestrike whirled again at the explosion from behind. Codex was holding a small gun and backing away from the smoking and sparking computer. She re-holstered her weapon and turned to face Flamestrike. "That's it. We're done."
Flamestrike gaped at the little code breaker. "Done!? Are you CRAZY?"
But Codex didn't have an opportunity to answer. The room door slid open. A huge figure loomed out of the smoke.
"What the SLAG is going on?" a gravelly voice shouted. The Decepticon towered over Flamestrike, filling the doorway.
She had been prepared for it so long; she acted with barely a thought. Flamestrike lined up and shot, knocking the big Decepticon back out of the door. "Run!" she shouted, beckoning to the open doorway.
Codex rushed out of the door and Flamestrike followed her. The big Decepticon was recovering and staggered toward them. Flamestrike shot again and he rocked back with an electronic growl. She turned to run, but the other Decepticon was coming at her down the hallway. He was equally as massive as his friend. If they got trapped between them the huge 'cons would tear them apart. She fired ahead. He paused and ducked her shot and she leaped into her transformation.
She threw open her door and Codex dived inside. Flamestrike gunned her engine and raced ahead. The big Decepticon lifted his foot to try and crush her, but she dodged underneath and sped off down the hall.
From behind she heard someone shout "Stop them!" She slowed to turn as a shell flew overhead and smashed into the wall ahead, throwing out a shower of debris.
"What are they doing?" Codex yelled as Flamestrike spun and skidded around the turn, "They're destroying their own building."
Apparently someone from behind had a similar objection, "I didn't say 'Shoot them', idiot. Are you trying to blow everything up?"
"Sorry Astrotrain," Blitzwing said contritely. "I was trying to stop them."
"Never mind. You follow them, I'll sound the alarm," Astrotrain snapped.
Flashing lights and sirens flared and blared into life up and down the halls. Flamestrike could feel the pounding of the following mech's feet shaking the floor. She was faster than him as he couldn't fly inside. But she couldn't go back the way they had come.
"How do we get back down from here?" she hollered to Codex. The little code breaker was braced and holding on tight.
"We have to go back through the security checkpoint, back the way we came." Codex shouted back.
"That's no good," Flamestrike yelled back. "There were guards and drones there. We'll never get past them. We can't fight a big force."
"It's the only way down through the building," Codex insisted. "The other exits all lead to the roof."
"The roof? That'll work," Flamestrike cried in relief.
"What are you talking about? We can't fly," Codex protested.
"We can't, but our ride can!" Flamestrike shouted. "Radio Dustoff and tell him to meet us on the roof."
"The Decepticons are never going to let him stop to pick us up," Codex argued, but she followed Flamestrike's directions. She raised a hand to her helm to activate her radio. "Dustoff? This is Codex. Do you read me? We need a pickup on the annex roof...yeah, the roof. Oh, and we're coming out hot…I know…right. Fine. Codex out."
She told Flamestrike, "He says he'll be here in five-hundred astroseconds."
"Great," Flamestrike said, "now get me to the closest roof access."
"You got it," the code breaker yelled. "Turn left at the next intersection." She leaned out of the open side window and pointed her laser pistol down the hall. As Flamestrike slowed and turned, Codex shot, blasting a huge smoking hole in the door at the end of the hall "I'll kill the doors; don't slow down!"
"I won't," Flamestrike cried and flew ahead in another burst of speed.
- - - - - -
Codex blew open the last door and Flamestrike soared out onto the flat roof surface. The length of the building stretched before her like a wide highway. Relieved of the need to control her speed to make the tricky 90 degree turns inside the building; Flamestrike raced across the roof.
In her wake, a five-unit squad of Decepticon security drones piled out of the doorway. They were followed in quick succession by several technicians, two dark green Seekers and Blitzwing. The three flyers sprang into the air, winding through their transformations as they gained altitude. The drones sped off as well, elongating and lifting on hover pads to skim the surface of the roof in pursuit of the fleeing infiltrators. The technicians, not possessed of flying alt. modes, clustered around the door to watch the chase.
Flamestrike was tracking the drones as they came up from behind. They were lightweight, but possessed powerful weapons. She lacked a weapon in alt. mode, so she would have to out-drive them.
"KRZAP!" the closest drone fired, blasting a charred crater next to her right rear tire. Flamestrike veered away.
"Fifty astroseconds left," Codex called. "You have to find somewhere to stop."
"Not here," Flamestrike yelled back. "See if you can take any of them out."
"Right," Codex growled back. She hung her head and shoulders out of the window, brought up her weapon, aimed and fired. The shot hit the leading drone, sending it spinning away.
"Good shot!" Flamestrike cheered.
"KRZAP!" a drone tagged her on the top of her roof, scoring a painful molten line in her armor.
"Ah!" she shouted, wobbling slightly as her steering control slipped.
Codex slipped back and grabbed the window. "Flamestrike? You hit?"
"Yes," she hissed, "but it's minor. Keep shooting."
Codex hauled herself up again and fired behind. She missed, hitting the roof instead, but a following drone was showered by the debris and dropped back.
"KATHOOM!" The roof surface to Flamestrike's right blew up in a plume of molten metal and fragments. She jinked left, scanning the sky above. A massive khaki jet soared overhead and she could hear Blitzwing's triumphant chortling. "Now I can stop you my way!" he jeered.
"Thirty astroseconds," Codex muttered. "There's no cover here. How are you going to get us out of this?" She fired behind again and another drone skidded into the roof in a shower of sparks.
Flamestrike bristled inwardly and then realized that the code breaker was not questioning her ability to come up with a plan. Rather she was urging her to put a plan into action. She activated her radio and contacted their incoming gunship.
"Flamestrike?" Dustoff's transmission was concerned, but not panicked. "What's the plan?"
"Come in overhead, Dustoff," Flamestrike sent. "We're going to move over to the right side of the building. You dip below and open the hatch. We're going to drop in on you."
"Got it," he sent back. "Let me clear the air first."
"Understood," she replied.
The sky overhead shattered with noise as the huge black flyer swooped down from on high. The Seekers scrambled, bringing their wing-mounted guns around to bear while the slower Blitzwing banked to train a missile on the Autobot gunship.
Both of the fleeing femmes saw the laser blasts impact squarely on Dustoff's black form, but the flyer maintained his course, raking one Seeker with his minigun. The Decepticon jet stalled and, smoking, dropped below the edge of the building out of sight.
The second Seeker broke off the attack, coming around to shadow his partner down. But Blitzwing was still in the air. He fired, the missile whistling out to speed toward the Autobot.
Dustoff looped and banked, twisting and swooping low, but the missile closed rapidly, fixed on his heat signature. Suddenly the gunship dropped down, thundering directly over top of Flamestrike. The trailing missile was almost close enough to score another line in her roof, but it missed her by millimeters and streaked down to impact among the following drones. The resulting blast threw her forward several meters, but she managed to regain her wheels and keep moving forward. Codex was thrown back from the window and bounced around like an inactive drone in Flamestrike's cab. Above Dustoff climbed steeply and veered off to the right.
"We have to do this quickly," Dustoff radioed. "I'm faster in the air, but that guy packs a punch. We have to get together before reinforcements arrive."
"Agreed," Flamestrike replied. She pulled to her right and drew close to the edge of the building. "Ready when you are."
"You do know this is going to hurt, right?" he asked softly as he dropped past her and lowered his hatch door. The dim hold made a tiny target. Around and below the black gulf warned of the consequences of a miscalculation. For an eternal astrosecond they sped along together, above and below.
"Go ahead, Flamestrike," Codex said from her position on the floor. "Take us home."
She launched off the roof. For a moment they hung weightlessly. Then she crashed heavily into Dustoff's open hold. Pain flared as something in her undercarriage snapped and she heard the anguished cries of both of her teammates as they all slammed together. An astrosecond later the air was filled with the rumbling roar of another massive explosion. She felt a rush of hot air wash through the open hold.
Codex stirred and looked behind as they bucked and dropped through the turbulent air. "Blitzwing blew up the side of the building where we just were. If you hadn't gone over the side, we would have died."
"Hang on, team!" Dustoff yelled. The hatch slammed closed and their gyros spun as the gunship rocketed upwards. In the dark hold Codex climbed out through the open window but Flamestrike couldn't transform. So the little femme sat against her side, and braced her feet against the gunship's wall as they dipped and swayed in aerial combat.
The noise of pursuit was muffled somewhat by Dustoff's frame, but they could still hear the massive "KATHOOM's" of Blitzwing's missiles and the piercing "KRZAP's" of laser fire from outside the gunship.
Flamestrike hurt. She could feel fluid seeping out of a cracked line somewhere inside and dripping down onto the floor of the hold. Her internal diagnostic systems were beeping and pinging anxiously at her, but she ignored them.
"Codex?" she called softly.
"Yes Flamestrike?" the grey femme replied, leaning her head back to look up at Flamestrike's front sensor array.
The gunship dropped down in three shuddering lurches. Flamestrike's cracked suspension jostled and ground together, sending fresh alarms and waves of agony through her system. She groaned and Codex thumped the hold wall with her fist. "Hey, careful up there! You've got an injured passenger."
"Sorry!" Dustoff grunted. "We just cleared the sector perimeter. I dropped down into the canyons to try and shake your friends. They can't fly well down here, too cramped."
"Fine," Codex said. "Just be gentle, all right?"
"I'll try," he replied.
The lurching quieted and they could hear and feel Dustoff's huge engines straining as he fought for more speed. The sounds of weapon fire faded behind. Apparently the Decepticons had called off the pursuit and the hold was relatively quiet.
"Codex?" Flamestrike called again.
"What Flamestrike?"
She didn't want to bring up the failure of the mission, but she felt like she needed to say something. "Are you hurt?"
"Just banged up a bit, nothing too bad," Codex replied, patting her fender. It was a surprisingly comforting gesture. "How bad are you?"
"I can't really tell," she hedged. "I know my linkage is cracked and something's leaking. But I don't know what."
Codex twisted around to look underneath the courier's frame. "It doesn't glow, so it's not energon. I'll radio ahead and have a medic waiting for us. You go offline."
Flamestrike's systems wanted her to go offline, too. But she spoke again. "Dustoff is an amazing flyer. I thought he was going to get shot down for sure back there."
"He gets a lot of practice," Codex said shortly. "Now, no more talking. Go offline. I'll be right here."
Calmed by the combination of authority and reassurance in the code breaker's voice, Flamestrike let her systems begin to shut down. As her awareness faded, she heard Codex murmur, "I'm proud of you, Flame."
- - - - -
She came back online looking up at a brightly lit ceiling. Apparently the medical team had repaired her broken linkage, as she had been transformed back into her primary mode and lay on a recharge berth.
She ran a quick internal diagnostic. When all systems reported back as functional she moved to sit up.
"She's back online," a familiar voice cried happily from behind her. Flamestrike turned to see Codex smiling from her perch on the next berth over. A boxy red and white medic was bustling over in response to the little femme's announcement.
"Online, eh?" he said stepping in front of her. "But not cleared from my med bay yet."
"I feel all right," Flamestrike protested.
"I'm sure you do," the medic replied. "I do excellent work. But I am not going to clear you to leave until I run a final system scan, so you can sit right there, fembot."
Flamestrike sat quietly and the medic nodded in satisfaction before moving off to bring over a bulky diagnostic array.
"Ah, the famous Ratchet berthside manner," Codex said chuckling, "Probably the hardest part of any mission, right Flame?"
"Um…" Flamestrike hesitated. She didn't want to offend the medic. He seemed gruff, but his hands were gentle as he hooked the sensors up to her chassis.
He saved her a reply, dismissing the little femme with a gesture, "Don't mind her. She's just being sassy because you saved her careless aft for her this time."
"That's right," Codex said, unperturbed by Ratchet's irritated tone, "and I'm very grateful to you for it, Flamestrike."
"As are we," said Elita-One appearing in the med bay door with Jazz. "Your bravery and quick thinking saved your team, Flamestrike."
"Apparently that's a habit of yours," Jazz said, grinning.
"But, I didn't…I mean, the mission…"Flamestrike stammered.
"What about the mission?" Elita-One asked in a grave voice.
Flamestrike darted a look at Codex who was looking back thoughtfully at her. "We didn't get the data. Did we? We failed in our mission, ma'am," she said. It was hard to admit, but she couldn't lie to the Lieutenant Commander.
"I don't know about that, Flamestrike," Codex replied with the same thoughtful expression. "Did the bounce come through, Jazz?"
"Sure did," Jazz said with another big grin. "You can start cracking the encryption as soon as we're done here."
"Excellent!" Codex crowed.
Elita-One shot Codex a puzzled glance, but Ratchet just smirked. "Intel geeks, think they have to be smarter than everyone else."
"Aw, don't be like that, Ratchet," Jazz purred.
"Yeah, docbot, I've seen you the same way when you and Wheeljack have pulled off a particularly good save. Let us have our moment," Codex said in mock indignation.
Flamestrike knew she was missing something, again. Codex and Jazz were acting like everything had gone according to plan, but how could that be? Codex had destroyed the datastore after being locked out of it.
"Perhaps you would care to explain, Jazz?" Elita-One asked in a long-suffering tone.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Jazz said with a little bow to the code breaker. "It's Codex's story to tell."
Codex, suddenly on the spot, seemed momentarily flustered as the Autobot Lieutenant Commander turned and gave her a patient stare.
"Uh, well, you see, ma'am," she began with unusual gravity. "When I attempted to access the stand-alone datasystem I was only able to get part way past the security protocols. I could operate part of the system, but couldn't access the data. Do you see?"
"Yes," Elita said, "go on."
"I knew we were short on time. We had been forced to offline a Decepticon agent on our way through the building and I knew once he recovered he would raise the alarm," Codex explained.
So, they hadn't destroyed Rumble. Flamestrike was relieved to know that. Even though the Decepticons were their enemies, Flamestrike was glad not to have another Cybertronian's death on her hands.
"I understand," Elita said.
"So with limited time and reduced access, I knew I wasn't going to be able to hack the datastore and decrypt only the data we needed. So I went in a different direction."
"Kinda like Flamestrike, heading for the roof," Jazz added with a chuckle.
"Right. That's already made the rounds has it?" Codex asked the saboteur.
"It's the hottest story in the barracks," Jazz replied. He opened his mouth to continue, but abruptly closed it at as Elita-One vented an exasperated sigh.
"Uh, yes," Codex said, snapping back to attention. "I scoped out the system and found the failsafe backup. The system was programmed to dump the data to another databank and wipe the hard drive if anyone attacked the datastore. So all I did was change the designated receiving computer from whatever the Decepticons had set up, to one of ours."
She smiled up at them. "Then I set up a virus to attack the datastore. Once the data was away, I logged out and fragged the machine."
"Wait, why did you do that?" Elita-One asked.
"Well, ma'am," Codex replied. "It accomplishes two things. It obliterates the location of the receiving computer…"
"And, it destroys the data completely, so the 'cons can't use it anymore," Jazz finished. "She did it on my orders, Elita. Even if they hadn't been able to get the data, Codex was supposed to destroy the file. We've suffered too much from their spying over the years. Let them reconstruct their program from the beginning again. It'll give us a chance to catch up."
"Indeed," Elita-One said. "Well done Codex and Flamestrike. You completed your mission admirably well. And you came back safely, which is even more important." The Autobot femme stepped forward and bent down to look directly into Flamestrike's optics. "I am proud of you, Flamestrike. Once Ratchet clears you for duty again, I'd like to assign you to work directly with me. I think I can find enough to do to keep you busy. I am in need of a runner who knows her way around Cybertron. You'll have to be able to work alone, though. Can you handle it?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" Flamestrike cried happily jumping up from the recharge berth to salute, causing the Lieutenant Commander to straighten suddenly and take a step back. She hesitated for a moment and said, "But if it's all right, I'd also like working for Jazz again."
Jazz guffawed and said, "Anytime. I'll be happy to have you, Flame. You can teach us all a thing or two, Autobot high flyer"