Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Transformers or any of the 'bots. They belong to Has-Tak. I am but a lowly fan.

SUMMARY: (AU, G1 and IDW-Verse inspired.) The civil war between the Autobots and Decepticons has only just begun, but is going strong. Skyfire, on a mission from Optimus Prime, has discovered a small mud-ball of a world rich with resources. This world, it has been decided, will act as an Autobot outpost and a staging ground for the Autobot forces to gather enough energon to decisively defeat the Decepticons. This world is Earth. Unfortunately for Wheeljack, plans go awry and he finds himself alone on the strange planet with six younglings to look after as he tries to signal for help and reach the outpost.

Author's Note: bold face indicates nonverbal communication. Italics indicate thoughts.

And on a side note, if you don't recognize Drift, he's a character created by IDW for the Transformers: All Hail Megatron series. Check him out, he rocks.

Ch. 1: Hungry

The cabin was round and far too small for seven mechs. Bumblebee, Bluestreak, and Sideswipe had taken up positions on the floor. Sideswipe sat with his back pressed to his twins' legs, while Bumblebee and Bluestreak sat side by side near Drift and Hot Rod's feet. All six mechs stared back at Wheeljack expectantly. He realized suddenly, that he would have to let the younglings know who was in charge here. If not, they would simply walk all over him like they did Perceptor. And then he'd end up welded to a wall or worse.

He revved his systems apprehensively and rubbed his hands together. "Uh, I'm Wheeljack and—"

"We know that, Gramps," Sunstreaker said and he rolled his optics. Sideswipe snickered loudly and Drift smirked.

He fought the urge to growl at the "Gramps" comment. He shifted, composed himself, and tried again. "And due to unforeseen circumstances, I'm in charge. The plan is to reach the outpost world and meet up with Optimus' group there."

"Wait, hold on." Sunstreaker sneered at him. "We have to listen to some old Geezer-bot?"

Bluestreak and Bumblebee fidgeted.

Hot Rod shrugged. "He's not that old."

"Dude, he's an antique." Sideswipe argued with a grin.

"Seriously," Sunstreaker said.

Wheeljack could feel one optic twitching ever so slightly. What the frag? He wasn't that old. "Listen here," he said in his most serious tone. "I'm in charge. You'll do what I say—"

"We're slagged," Sideswipe pointed out in a stage whisper. All six younglings laughed.

"Don't make him mad! He'll blow us up!" Bumblebee whispered and they all laughed again.

So much for respecting your elders, Wheeljack thought darkly. He cycled air through his system in a loud irritated huff and turned back to the monitor. Little fraggers.


The entire trip, he was forced to endure their taunting. He didn't know what was worse, the fact that they talked about him like he wasn't there or the fact that what they said actually offended him. He wasn't that old. Eventually, to his thankfulness, the monitor began beeping to signify that they had entered the star system. He chanced a glance at the younglings who were now leaning their heads together and whispering, every now and then one of them snickering.

That can't be a good thing, he thought sullenly.

Proximity sensors began whining and on the screen a small, strangely colored planet appeared. It was odd to see a world so…colorful. Cybertron was gray, but this world was all blues, greens, and browns wreathed in white.

He felt someone standing behind him and turned his head to see Bluestreak staring at the screen. "It's all blue. What's the blue stuff?" Bluestreak asked.

Wheeljack consulted the readings and straightened, his vocal indicators blinking. "According to this, it's H2O. Most of this world seems to be H2O in fact," he replied, mildly surprised to find at least one youngling that would listen to him.

"You're slagging me," Sunstreaker groaned. "We'll rust."

"Primus, forbid anything happens to Sunny's paint," Hot Rod sneered.

Wheeljack turned in time to see Sunstreaker tackle Hot Rod with a snarl. The little shuttle was far too small for rough housing and as the two crashed around on the floor of the cabin, the other younglings hopped up onto the bench that circled the walls to keep out of the way. Except Sideswipe, he used the bench as a launching pad and body-slammed both of the fighters.

"Hey! Cut that out," Wheeljack yelled, trying to keep the scrabbling younglings away from the sensitive instrumentation. "Slag! Quit it!"

Unfortunately, for him none of the fighters listened. Sunstreaker and Hot Rod slammed into him and he flailed his arms to keep from falling back onto the controls. Everything would have been fine if Sideswipe hadn't tackled them. As Wheeljack fell on the controls, he heard the warning alarms begin to shriek. They were all thrown on the cabin's floor as they suddenly began to accelerate. Out of the corner of his optic, he saw the tiny colorful world speeding at them and growing larger.

Ah, slag.


"We said we're sorry."

Wheeljack was sitting in mud. In the middle of a wilderness composed of lots of squishy green organic life. He glared up at Sideswipe and the other younglings who were milling around the remains of the shuttle. He growled at them and they backed up.

"Shouldn't we be headed for the outpost?" Bluestreak asked tentatively.

Wheeljack propped his head up on one hand. "We were headed for the outpost. Someone decided to act like sparklings, though. Now we're stuck here."

"We're lost then?" Bumblebee mumbled.

"What do you think?" Wheeljack muttered crossly. Since they had crashed, he'd been trying to hail Optimus' team, but so far no one had responded.

Crzzt! Wheeljack?

He tensed and latched onto the weak signal desperately. Hello? This is Wheeljack! Hello?

Jacks, it's Ratchet. What happened?

The younglings watched from a distance as the engineer's optics dimmed. "I think he's fritzed at us," Sideswipe mumbled.

Bumblebee pursed his lips. "Well, we were pretty hard on him."

"I could really go for some energon," Bluestreak interrupted.

At the mention of energon, all six of the younglings revved their engines hungrily. "There's supposed to be energon here, right?" Hot Rod asked.

"Hey, I bet the geezer-bot's so cranky because he's hungry," Sunstreaker suggested.

"Yeah," Sideswipe agreed. "If we get him some energon, maybe he won't be so mad."

Quietly, the six younglings rose and slipped into the forest. Bluestreak hesitated, before following.

Meanwhile, Wheeljack was deep in conversation with Ratchet and was busy uploading directions on how to reach the outpost.

One more thing, Jack, said Ratchet over the static-laden connection. Whatever you do, do not interact with humans. They're the dominant organic life on this planet. The last thing we need is to have our cover blown too early.

Humans? Wheeljack asked intrigued.

Ratchet seemed to sigh and said, I'll upload the human files I have to you. Just remember, we want first contact to be under controlled circumstances and at Prime's discretion. Do not interact with the humans.


Drift took the lead, since he had the most sensitive olfactory sensors. The quiet white and red bot stalked gracefully through the foliage, smirking to himself as he listened to the other five crashing along behind him.

"Where are we going?" Bluestreak asked uneasily.

"I smell something, but it's not energon," Drift said. "Smells good though."

Bumblebee tipped his head back drawing a deep draft of air into his system. "Hey, that does smell good. What is it?"

"Over here," Drift said.

The six darted off after him, sniffing enthusiastically. The woods gave way to a small clearing with flat, smooth gray ground. In the middle of the clearing was a small rectangular building and a strange awning. Under the awning were six even tinier rectangles standing up vertically. A single security light cast its dim light on the area. The six bots hesitated in the tree line.

"What is that?" Sideswipe asked.

"It's tiny," added Bumblebee in awe. Being a minibot, he was used to be called small, but these strange constructions made him feel like a giant.

Drift stepped onto the strange gray ground and walked across it to peer under the awning. He reached out and prodded one of the tiny rectangles. The other bots skittishly followed him. Bumblebee crouched and nudged one of the strange hoses attached to the rectangles. He tugged the hose loose and stared at the nozzle. Curious, he sniffed it.

"Hey, the smell's coming from the box-things," he said.

Sideswipe grasped one of the rectangles and yanked. With a protesting creak of metal and concrete, the rectangle came up. A huge pipe was attached to the bottom. "How the frag do you get the stuff out?"

Small manipulator's came out of the tips of Bumblebee's fingers and he carefully tugged the trigger. Clear liquid dribbled from the nozzle. Bumblebee let a little drip on one finger and then stuck it in his mouth. "Hey, this is good!" Sideswipe began yanking up the pipe, while Bluestreak and Sunstreaker helped. Drift edged closer to the larger rectangle, curious.

In the little gas station, the lonely clerk had been sleeping stretched out in her chair behind the counter. A little beeping sound made her snort and she almost fell off her chair. She opened one eye and stared at the little light that was blinking to indicate someone was pumping gas. She yawned and stretched lazily.

She glanced out the window at the pumps and went rigid. A single glowing blue eye the twice the size of her head peered in at her.

Drift tapped the strange clear barrier on the front of the larger rectangle pensively, while he scanned it. Curious, he pressed against it, until it gave way with a tinkling sound. Such primitive materials, he thought, and so easy to break.

The terrified clerk fell off her chair with a scream and huddled behind the counter. She looked up and saw gigantic fingers hovering over her head. With another shrill scream, she darted down an aisle of chips and candy.

Sideswipe looked up with the clear liquid they'd found dribbling down his chin. "What are you doing?" He asked Drift. The other bot was on his knees with his arm shoved up to the elbow in the larger rectangle.

At the same moment that Drift turned his head to reply, the desperate clerk made a bid for freedom and dove through the narrow gap past his arm. Her arms and legs pumping, she tore past him.

Drift snarled. "Catch it!"

Sideswipe crouched down, blocking the woman's escape route. He held his hands up palm out. "Nice little…whatever you are. Come to Uncle Sides," he called.

The clerk stared up at the menacing metal giant speaking in warbles, trills, and electronic noises and decided there was no way in hell she was going down without a fight. With a strangled battle cry, she tore to the left. Unfortunately, Bumblebee was crouched there and she backpedaled so fast, she fell on her butt with a yelp.

Sunstreaker watched his twin and Drift try to catch the organic and snarled. "Don't touch that thing! You don't know where the slag it's been!"

Hot Rod wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand. "Aren't organics supposed to be dangerous?"

"What?" Drift and Sides asked warily.

Sunstreaker smirked evilly. " Don't you know they'll melt your armor with their acidic venom and then lay eggs in your spark chamber?"

Bumblebee and Bluestreak edged discreetly away. Drift, however simply rolled his optics and dove for the organic creature as it tried to escape again. The clerk instantly began thrashing and screaming profanity at them, but they couldn't understand it.

"It's not too happy," Bumblebee observed.

"I wonder what purpose that little tuft of fluff on its head serves." Drift mumbled to himself, as he reached to touch it. The woman screamed in terror and then passed out. He stroked her head.

"You off lined it!" Bluestreak whispered in shock.

"It's not offline, you glitch-head," Sideswipe sneered superiorly.

"Recharging," Drift replied calmly.

Bluestreak edged closer to look. "It's kind of cute…"

Sunstreaker glared at the others. "You aren't thinking about keeping it."

"The Geezer-bot will never let you," Hot Rod added. He had watched the whole spectacle in amusement.

"I'm going to call it Fluffy." Drift announced with a pleased rumble.

Sunstreaker put his face in his palm. "You're all glitched."

Wheeljack found them then. He came stomping out of the tree line with various green organic plant life stuck in his joints and clinging to him and he looked like some primeval god bent on revenge. His optics glowed a dangerous pale white. He surveyed the wreckage in front of him and then his optics flickered to what was dangling from Drift's hand and he snarled.

"What the slag do you think you're doing?" He demanded, his voice soft and dangerous.

Drift held his prize up for inspection. "I found a pet."

Wheeljack's angry shouting scared all the wildlife in the forest that night. Sunstreaker would later swear that it could be heard back on Cybertron itself.