A/N: Okay, so… it took me weeks to figure out how to start this thing… and in the end I decided… on Blaster and Tracks bantering… yeah. Anyway. Um. This is… AU …or.. AR? Set after A Bridge Too Close/Transwarped. This isn't a 'if I ran the show' or a 'how it should've been done' or anything like that… it's just a plot bunny that bust into my head a while ago and refused to let me go.

I suppose I should warn that this will contain OCs, since I know a lot of people don't like them… and I completely understand that, so, fair warning, OCs, while not in this chapter, will play a relatively major part in here.

Disclaimer: I really don't own Transformers… at all.

oooo

"So, to review your mission objective again--"

Tracks rolled his optics, and groaned softly. "Please, Blaster, I'm fully capable of doing this. I've been briefed on it no less than eight times since I was assigned the mission in the first place. I know full well what I'm doing and how I'm supposed to do it."

"Ahh, but it just ain't the same if I don't get to lay it on ya, 'fore ya go!" Blaster's voice was unnecessarily cheerful over the com-link, and Tracks could just see the grin on the bot's face. "'sides, you're gonna miss my soothing voice once you're outta radio range, figured I might fill a quota 'fore you leave."

"Ugh, the only time your voice is soothing, Blaster, is when you stop talking." Tracks ran a servo over his face, sighing with exasperation as Blaster began to laugh.

"Whatever you say, man, but you still get to hear me tell ya how t' do your job. It is my job, after all." Tracks could just hear Blaster's grin, "Okay. Basically, your job is to take this bitty little stealth ship full o' cargo to Earth, which should be easy enough since halfways through a Space Bridge and you lucked out and got some seriously cutting edge tech in that ship. Ain't no Decepticreeps gonna have you poppin' on their view screens 'less you bust right through'em."

Tracks rolled his optics again, "Well there goes that plan… Of course they might just be able to hear you all the way through a vacuum with the way you can jabber on."

"I'll take that as a compliment, thanks. But don't worry, you won't hear a peep outta me 'less there's an emergency."

"Why do I somehow doubt that? You can't keep quiet for three nanoclicks."

"Yeah… that's true. But you won't get the fun o' listenin' to it, 'cause, while some bots get cushy delivery jobs, some o' us gotta work, and I ain't your private communications techy."

Tracks sighed again, Delivery Bot, this job was feeling less and less glamorous as this conversation went on. "Well, I extend my condolences to those who should suffer in my stead." He rolled his optics, prepping his ship for take off and logging into the Space Bridge system, setting up the coordinates he had been given when he had been prepped the first time for this mission.

Blaster just laughed in response, "Alrighty, then… you ready to take off? Got your coordinates set? Engine turned on? Shields up? Seatbelt buckled?"

Tracks stopped his internal inventory and wished desperately he had a video connection with Blaster, if only so he could give him the look he so rightly deserved for the last remark. "…someday they just need to send you to Earth so you can get this obsession out of your system."

"Mmm, that would be nice, think ya could sneak me in with yer cargo?"

"And put myself through listening to you the whole trip? No, thank you."

"Well, shucks." More laughter crackled over the com-link, "Well, you all set and ready to rock and roll?"

"If what you mean by that is, am I prepared for take-off? Then yes, I am ready to go. Just give me a count-down."

"Alrighty, set it to motion, gimme a nanoclick to clear your flight plan…" There was a pause, then, and some dull clicks, and beeps as Blaster went through and double checked that Tracks' course did not collide with any other paths. "Aaaand, yer good. All systems are go, good buddy, you may begin yer take-off sequence. Happy flying and if you don't pick me up a souvenir I will be very unhappy with you."

Tracks couldn't help but laugh a little at that, and shake his head, "You do realise this is a mission, not a vacation, correct? …But I'll see what I can do."

Blaster laughed a bit, and soon the ship's display was giving read-outs necessary for take-off. It was only a matter of cycles until he was guiding the ship, smoothly, into space, with a clear path to the nearest Space Bridge.

"Kay, now, should be smooth sailin' from here on out, so you should be able to just sit, back 'n' let the autopilot take it from here, not that you need to, I know, but it might also be good to go over the sorta, 'Crash Course to Earthly Behaviours' thing the fellows who may or may not've just been Jazz put together for bots that're Earth-bound. Also, keep in mind that communications with Earth have been down for the past Decacycle or so… We're pretty sure it's some sort of solar radiation, or something of that sort or interference, since the 'Cons in the area were reportedly dealt with or… jettisoned into space or… whatever… it doesn't seem anything serious, but keep an optic out for it and hopefully we can get it all sorted out. Your ship has a better broadcasting system than they're currently workin' with so you should be able t' punch through when ya get there, and the supplies should be enough for a decent com-tower as well as Space Bridge components…"

"Thank you Captain Exposition, I did read the reports, and mission summaries, I do know something of what I'm doing." Tracks snapped, wondering if all bots on outbound delivery missions to piddley little organic infested planets had to have their missions explained to them ten times.

"Okay, okay, don't get your bumpers in a twist," Blaster chuckled, he wasn't one to get offended easily and it would take a lot more than Tracks in a foul mood to affect his general attitude. "You're approachin' the Bridge now, things should be clear on to Earth, no trouble, no worries, I'll be getting to the rest of my job, touch base when ya hit yer destination or if somethin' of immediate importance comes up. Blaster out. Take care o' yourself, Tracks."

"Rodger that, Tracks out." He was about to cut the connection when he added, "You take care, as well, Blaster. Stay out of trouble."

He heard Blaster laugh as he entered the Space Bridge and was disconnected, he sighed, leaning back and watching the read-outs, as he absorbed the quiet around him.

.....

It was approximately a Decacycle before he made it to the 'Milky Way' Galaxy as the humans had titled it. It was a relatively quaint little place, and Tracks couldn't help but smile at how it only seemed to be marked by the natural movements of space. It had seemed nearly forever since he'd seen an area that wasn't wounded by some Decepticon action, or scarred long ago by the Great War. He was sure there was something poetic about it, but he wasn't the bot to find it, or put it to words. As it was he was just pleased that he would soon be in touch with other Autobots soon. Even if it was some rag-tag group of repair bots.

He had begun to guide the ship to the blue and green planet, checking his cloaking status and preparing the atmospheric re-entry program, when everything jerked violently, alerts popping up across the screen.

"What the--?" Tracks leapt into action, checking readouts and searching the radars. His shields had absorbed the majority of the attack, as that was certainly what it was. There was nothing out there for him to run into, no asteroids, no space junk in the area, and he wasn't quite close enough for any kind of interference from the atmosphere. It had to be an attack, he was reading a laser signature from the sensors, but he couldn't see where it was coming from, and had no idea how anything could even see him to fire on him. Blaster, and all eight other bots who prepped him for this mission had assured him that this ship had some of the best cloaking technology available.

Another shock hit, this one was stronger, and disturbingly more accurate. His shields were nearly down and he was drawing nearer to the planet, and flying unshielded through an atmosphere like Earth's was not the wisest of plans. But his computers couldn't pick anything up. There wasn't a single sign of anything out there, and the damage was concentrated on the wrong side of the ship for it to have come from the Earth.

"Blast it, where are you?" Tracks took up the controls, scanning with his own optic sensors, as the ship's seemed somehow to be failing. "State of the art technology my aft, what in Primus' name is going on?" Nothing. There was absolutely nothing to be found. And yet there was another violent shock as another blast connected with his ship.

He growled, opening a channel through to Cybertron, "Come in, Come in, this is Tracks, nearing Earth, I am under attack of unknown origin, Cybertron, do you read me? Repeat, this is Tracks, I am under attack."

The only response was the empty buzz of static, which he was beginning to feel wasn't at all to do with solar radiation. He growled in frustration and began trying to flip through channels, at the same time trying to restart his shields. "Hello, Hello, this is Autobot Tracks, does anyone read me? Hello? Please read, this is Autobot Tracks, I am under attack, hell--augh!" There was another strong jerk and Tracks was nearly hurled from his seat. With no protection the blast took out one of the right side engines, nearly causing him to spiral out of control.

He snarled a colourful assortment of words that he wouldn't be fond of repeating in any other situation and pulled the ship into some semblance of stable direction. He was about to enter the atmosphere and it was not going to be an easy ride, especially with a hidden enemy making sport of him while he tried to pull through.

"Computer; reboot shielding system, cut power from all power from unnecessary programs and redirect to shields, initiate atmospheric entry protocol, guidance programs to manual." He grabbed the controls as they changed from assisted guidance to full manual. He needed the ship's power to be concentrated on the shields if he wanted to make it to Earth without breaking apart. He thanked whatever higher power what might've been looking over him that his attacker seemed to be equally distracted by entry and he didn't have to deal with being blown apart by hostiles as well, as the shields only barely held on through the process of getting to the Primus forsaken spit of a planet. Tracks growled a bit, trying to find somewhere to land without causing damage to whatever life forms were in the area.

Unfortunately the choice was made for him very quickly as his unseen opponent seemed to refocus on him and blast what was left of his shields away and burn out a good chunk of his navigational systems. "Ah-! Slag! Slag!" He pulled hard to avoid the outer limits of what seemed to be one of the human cities, though he collided, hard, with the surface of the planet within a, thankfully, uninhabited wooded area. He was tossed about as the ship rolled and smashed through many of the trees, before finally coming to a rest.

Groaning, Tracks checked the read-outs, to see if he could orient himself, at least see where he landed, or if there was any sign, now, of his attacker.

"Autobot!!" The voice was female, high-pitched and mocking. "I suggest surrender, I might make it a lot less painful if you do!"

"Computer, bring weapons online!"

"Weapons systems have been disabled, energy insufficient."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Tracks growled and tried to punch in an override. "Come on, come on…Slag!" The ship rocked with another blast.

"Autobot Tracks, I know you're in there! Come out!" The Decepticon called again.

"How do they know…" He cut the thought process short, there wasn't time to wonder how she knew who he was. But he did need to get off the ship. Hiding on it wasn't doing him any good, and the ship had no weapons to fight back. At least if he left the ship he could use his own defences to stand some sort of chance. Growling he opened the hatch and transformed into vehicle mode, swerving out into the woods and charging in the direction of the city he saw while landing. If nothing else he could hide among the other machines there, until he could get in touch with the other Autobots on Earth.

"I am not a fan of games, Tracks, stop running!" She called his name again, as if to rub in the fact that she knew who he was. Knew things that the Decepticons shouldn't have been able to know… not many Autobots knew of his mission…

'We've been compromised…' the realisation dawned on him with sickening clarity as he swerved to avoid a blast and nearly rammed himself into a tree, 'there's a spy…'

He lurched painfully as something large and heavy landed in front of him. He quickly transformed and looked up to face his enemy. She was clearly Decepticon, as if that hadn't been previously evident, likely a jet. She bore a heavy resemblance to the Second-In-Command Starscream.

She lunged forward and grabbed him by his torso, thrusting him down against the ground. He winced, feeling his back panels scrape and dent.

"You have been a very boring prey, I really hope you don't represent the best, or this will be a very uneventful revolution." She smirked, aiming the blaster on her free arm at his head, but before she could fire on him, he activated his shoulder cannons and fired on her.

She flew back, howling with rage and covering her face with her servos. "You shot me in the face! You miserable little heap! I'm going to rip you apart!"

Before she could recover, Tracks pushed himself up onto his stabilizing servos and ran for the city, transforming back to vehicle mode once there was room drive. Though, as he reached the city, the Decepticon seemed to have caught up with him, and a well aimed blast hit him, sharply in the back.

He skidded across a road and crashed into a building. He was damaged, scraped, burned… He couldn't even push himself to transform again, to defend himself. The sinking realisation that this was very likely the end dawned on him, he couldn't fight back, he was doing all he could to resist falling into stasis lock. He shut off his optics and waited for the final blow, he couldn't move to evade or guard. This was it. On some stupid, unglamorous delivery mission, to some stupid organic infested planet.

But sirens began to echo in his auditory sensors and the blow never came, eventually everything was drowned out by his systems pushing him into stasis.