Author's Note: Yes, it has been awhile. I apologize. I've been working on a lot of other stuff, but finally decided to write out another chapter for this, so here it is. Hopefully the next update will be out fairly soon!

Disclaimer: I don't own transformers or aviation challenge. Just my measly little ocs

I struggled to suppress another yawn and shifted stiffly as I scanned the woods and kept track of my team's progress. According to my watch it was approaching 0100 hours, and I had been in the tree since about 1500 hours, or 3:00 PM.

"Jinx to Ajax." I whispered into my mouthpiece.

"Yeah?" He replied after a moment, his own tiredness coming through loud and clear. I suppose that compared to them and the team in the POW camp I didn't have much to complain about, but my butt sure was sore from sitting on that branch for so long.

"You've got two incoming, probably scouts, coming at you from the south."

There was a pause before: "Which way's south?"

"Your left."

"Oh, thanks." He ended the connection with a click and I was returned to silence.

My eyes were just drifting shut when Ajax's voice buzzed in my ear unexpectedly.

"Ajax to Jinx."

"I read you, what is it?" I asked, more alert now as his voice seemed a bit sharper than usual.

"A bunch of them soldiers just crossed one of the smaller creeks, it looks like they're heading your way, you might have been found out."

I was about to reply when I heard a nearby sound of something snapping some branches. I shifted my position and peered around the edge of the trunk. They were so close I didn't need to the binoculars. Six of the soldiers were creeping around the edge of the clearing, two keeping a look out on the area, the others scanning the trees. Oh shit.

I kept as still as I possibly could, hoping that the many branches of the tree I was situated in, my camo, and the darkness would keep me hidden. Unfortunately I'm really not a lucky person, in fact I'd go as far as to say I'm unlucky, see the reason for the callsign now? And of course, it was the moment that they were nearly directly underneath me that what little luck I had finally decided to take a vacation. No, they didn't just look up and see me staring down at them, though that would have happened given a few more minutes. I, being the genius that I am, decided to try to stand up and edge my way to the other side of the tree in the hopes that they would miss me. However, it would seem that when a branch of a fairly old tree, has been under quite a bit of stress and unusual weight, no I am not fat, it doesn't do well to sudden shifts and movement. All this I discovered when, upon assuming a crouched position, the previously creaking piece of wood decided to break with a terrific bang, leaving me temporarily suspended in mid air and six soldiers staring up at me with cocked paintball guns.

A split-second later I learned another valuable lesson: humans can't float.

Consequently I was sent crashing, all twenty feet from my perch to the ground, hitting every single branch on the way down before finally crashing with a loud thump on the stick and rock covered earth below. Pain does not cover it. Soldiers apparently don't care.

I was surrounded seconds after I hit the ground, several guns pointed at my body, not that I noticed as I gasped and wheezed for breath, not even able to move my arms to clutch my aching ribs.

One of them pulled me to my knees and set about tying my hands behind my back with a strong stretch of cording. Another was radioing someone, while the others watched the perimeter. After he finished, the guy who tied me up unhooked my mike from my ear and stowed it in one of his pockets, before hoisting me to my feet and keeping an iron grip on my left arm as I continued to struggle to breath properly.

"What do we do with her?" The soldier beside me asked, looking to the one who had taken my equipment.

"Just throw her in the back of the truck, the others should be easy to get now that they're blind."

The soldier shrugged and threw me over his shoulder, ignoring my coughs and spluttering, and proceeded to walk to the strange array of vehicles. I was promptly dumped in the back of the monster pickup, and in a matter of moments I was alone once more.

I'm not sure how long it took for me to recover from the fall. I could do nothing but lay in the strangely warm bed of the truck panting and coughing. At times shouting and the popping of paintball guns could be heard in the general direction that I had last seen the rest of my team, but by the time I managed to sit up on my knees the woods had returned to relative quiet, and I really couldn't do more than hope that the silence meant they had eluded capture and were making their way towards me. I hate feeling helpless.

I fiddled with the taunt ropes that bound my wrists and feet, the latter had somehow escaped my notice until I first began my efforts to sit up. That soldier sure knew how to tie knots. It seemed that the more I tried to loosen the bindings, the tighter they grew. Eventually I was forced to stop my efforts in the fear that the circulation in my hands and ankles would be cut off. I slowly succumbed to the pull of sleep, first tipping over sideways, resuming my initial position of being slumped on the bed of the truck, and the gradually slipping off, lulled by the chirping of cicadas and the rustling of the trees.

I woke as dawn was beginning, the world still bathed in a grey light. I could hear voices approaching and the light crunch of gravel under heavy feet. Lying completely still, I waited for the owners of the feet and voices to reach me. They came to a stop right beside the truck.

"I still say we should have talk with those men, 'Hide." One voice was saying. "They shouldn't have treated her so roughly after falling out of the tree."

"Relax, Ratchet," the other voice, this one rougher, more of a growl really. "She's training for the military for Primus' sake! They practically coddled her."

The other grumbled something about wrenches before the conversation ended.

"Up, kid." The gruff voice ordered. "I know you're awake."

I remained still, not sure if he was bluffing.

"All right, so you want to do this the hard way."

"Ironhide!" The first voice, Ratchet, protested to whatever the other man was about to do.

One of the two apparently climbed up into the bed of the truck beside me, though the beast didn't move at all with the added weight. The sound of a knife being flipped open reached my ears and my eyes shot open in shock to meet the unnatural blue gaze of a mid-aged man with dark brown hair. He was wearing a white doctor's coat and had a rather stern countenance.

He raised a thick eyebrow at me and reached behind me, swiftly cutting through the tight ropes.

"There, that's better isn't it?"

I sat up warily, rubbing my sore wrists and pressing myself up against the side of the truck, only to regret it moments later as the metal collided painfully with what were most certainly bruises from my rather spectacular fall from the tree.

"Right then," he began, sitting back on his heels and regarding me with a calculating expression. "You'll need to remove at least your first layer of clothing."

I stared at him blankly. "What?"

"I need to assess the damage to your ribs, just to make sure nothing serious happened to them."

He reached towards me and I moved out of reach of his long fingers, causing him to glare ferociously at me.

"Oh leave it, Ratch'," A voice behind me drawled, causing me to jump and jar my torso once again. "You can look at her once we get back to the main facilities."

This man was huge, as in brawn and muscles that put Safety to shame. He was tall and had the same blazing blue eyes as Ratchet (perhaps they were siblings?), and his black hair was cropped short in a standard military cut.

"Where is the rest of my team?" I asked finally, wondering what had happened to them.

"Eh, they were all rounded up about twenty minutes after you were knocked out of commission." Ironhide said, leaning against the truck unconcernedly. "Now, do you think you could hurry up, the rest of the kiddies will be heading up to the main tent thing soon and I'm hungry."

I shut my mouth and stiffly stood, wobbling slightly and grimacing at the pain in my sore muscles. I carefully hopped out of the back of the truck, landing a bit unsteadily on the ground. Ratchet followed me, still staring at my ribs with an unhappy look on his face.

"Wait here a moment, I'll grab a stretcher out of the back of my vehicle." He proceeded towards the bright yellow, hummer ambulance that sat on the other edge of the clearing before I had a chance to open my mouth.

"What do you mean a stretcher?" I asked indignantly, making him pause. "I can walk perfectly fine."

"You are injured, and until I have a chance to assess the extent of the damage I would rather not risk it. You could have a fractured rib for all we know."

"Well I know that I can walk and that a couple of bruises aren't going to inhibit me whatsoever." I stated a bit rudely.

"Really?" Ironhide asked with a chuckle, jabbing me in the ribs and earning himself a disapproving glare from the bad-tempered medic.

I couldn't stop a pained squeak from exiting my mouth, nor could I help clutching the area and doubling over, but in the end Ratchet finally conceded in allowing me to walk, so long as I stopped for a break whenever I was in pain.

So we began our terribly long one hundred meter walk back to the Bubble (the 'main tent thing')

"So kid, what's your name?" Ironhide asked as we reached the gate that would lead to the main area.

"Jinx." I said shortly, not happy with either of them.

"No your real name."

"You're going by your callsign, so can I." While Ratchet could have been the medic's last name, Ironhide had to be the burly man's callsign. It suited him too well. Either that or someone had a terrible sense of humor.

There was no further conversation between us, and within minutes we were entering the large open space that was the Bubble.

The other team, the Jolly Rogers, was already waiting under the pavilion. They were kneeling on the floor in front of their team leader, their hands up behind their heads. A number of the military men from the bus the previous afternoon were milling around, the major was discussing something with Red Bull, the camp commandant.

Ratchet and Ironhide escorted me towards them, and they stopped talking as we drew near.

"Jinx," Red Bull began when we stopped in front of her. "I hear you had a rather nasty fall this morning."

"Yes ma'am." I stated, already at attention.

"Have you been checked by Doctor Ratchet?"

"No ma'am."

She raised an eyebrow at me, already frowning.

"With respect, ma'am. I would like to wait until we have been debriefed from the mission before I am inspected."

I hoped that she would allow me to remain with my team until the mission was officially over.

"Very well. But as soon as you are debriefed you are to report to Doctor Ratchet and follow his instructions to the t, is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." I said before allowing Shaggy, my team leader, to lead me to where my team was to be positioned.

Once at the spot I sank down to my knees and assumed the captive position that the other team was in, ignoring the pull on my ribs.

The rest of my team, the Green Hornets, was brought in minutes later, lining up beside me in rows. And then we waited for the debriefing.

It was a rather standard debriefing, considering the strangeness of the mission. We were allowed to take a normal seat on the ground, and were then given a brief outline of the strengths, weaknesses, strategies, and problems observed. After about fifteen minutes we were released, the others gratefully climbing onto a bus to be taken to the space center for morning meal, while I reluctantly followed Doctor Ratchet to the Mach II classroom to be evaluated.