Author's note: I want to deeply and sincerely thank everyone who has stuck with me so far! Seven months between an update IS A LONG TIME, WOW, but I'm back in the groove and chapters should be moving along at a quicker pace! But to anyone still reading this or supporting it, thank you so much. And to anyone new who might be investigating this for the first time-hi there!

This chapter contains a mix of canon and headcanon. The artifact described in here is a part of the Aligned canon, and it was made by Solus Prime, but all other details were cooked up by me, so any mistakes there are on my part.

Otherwise, let's get rolling! This chapter's a bit on the long side-hopefully that makes up for my absence, at least in part! ;)

Squicks in this chapter: None, it's mainly ACTION. The title is a terrible pun though, dohoho.

Chapter 6 - Freight Night

Four days earlier,
Autobot Base

"Okay, now slide your hand right… here," Miko said, gently guiding Raf's wrist higher up the neck of the guitar. "There! You got it."

Rafael did what he could to hoist the guitar into a convincing pose, encouraged by a string of beeps from Bumblebee. Jack was watching him with the sort of carefully-constructed straight face only made by people who were trying very, very hard not to laugh. "How do I look?" Raf asked.

Miko gave him a big grin and a double thumbs-up. "You look like you're ready to rock."

Bumblebee glanced over his shoulder, flicking one of his doorwings out of the way to look at Ratchet. The medic was standing in front of a bank of screens at the other end of the Autobot's base with his back to the childrens' antics. Evening was drawing on, and Ratchet's attention had been fixed on the unusual discovery he had made around noon: an abandoned Cybertronian vessel coming down in the Earth's atmosphere.

They'd been able to determine that the ship wasn't occupied very shortly after they detected it, and Optimus planned to personally lead Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead to the site to scour it for any traces of Cybertronian technology... as soon as they received clearance from Agent Fowler's superiors. Optimus had stressed that time was of the essence.

"You don't have to tell me," Fowler had replied in his characteristic tone, which conveyed that he was, with great effort, refraining from exploding with frustration whenever he opened his mouth, "I'm all for it, big guy. The last thing I want is for MECH to get their mitts on any of your fancy space-tech, but the boys at the White House won't let you go charging into another country on some extended mission until you fight your way through a mountain of red tape." It turned out that waltzing into another country and taking alien spacecraft from them was something that the US government decreed needed to be done carefully and with preparation.

Go figure.

Bumblebee sighed, turning back to the children. Miko was attempting to educate Raf on the fine art of sliding forward knee-first while ripping out (in her words) an "epic guitar solo." Bumblebee wasn't exactly sure why Ratchet was so interested in this ship, but the moment he saw it he had muttered something about records and reports and had gone diving into the Autobot archives. It kept him quiet enough, and though Bumblebee didn't exactly like Ratchet's intermittent grumping… well. It just felt weird around the base without it.

Bulkhead seemed just as uncertain as to what exactly was bothering Ratchet as Bumblebee was. If the yellow scout had been inclined to ask anyone, though, he would have chosen Optimus. Of everyone in the base, Optimus understood their resident medic the best. He was out with Arcee, though, on an evening patrol. Arcee had been none too happy about the wait imposed by their ever-so-gracious hosts, and Bumblebee suspected that Optimus had proposed the patrol as a means of getting her wheels turning and her mind off her restlessness.

His mind was drawn away from his troubles by the sight of Raf making his first sliding solo attempt (only pantomiming the guitar-strumming, though), which was met with immediate approval from Miko. Bumblebee smiled, insofar as he was able to with his largely-inflexible face. It wasn't an easy life they had found here on Earth, but somehow, knowing Rafael made it worth the struggle. If anyone had told Bumblebee back on war-torn Cybertron that he would find peace in an unlikely friendship with a mere child, he would have thought they were crazy.

Now, he couldn't imagine life without little Raf.

"Okay, Jack," Miko said as she helped untangle Raf from the clutches of her instrument. "Your turn."

Jack blinked and took a half-step back. "What-me? No thanks, Miko. I think I'll leave the rocking to the rockers."

"That," the girl explained with exaggerated patience, "is why we need to unleash your inner rocker."

Before Jack could reply, they were both startled by an exclamation from Ratchet. "That's it! It's the same ship!" All eyes, Cybertronian or otherwise, immediately turned to the doctor as, without turning, he immediately set about setting up a commlink. "Ratchet to Optimus. I need you are Arcee to come back to the base immediately. This is a matter of grave importance."

"What's going on?" Raf ventured somewhat timidly.

Ratchet finally turned away from his console. "Something big, Rafael," he replied pensively. "Something big."

Once Ratchet had everyone assembled, he wasted no time. "There's a chance-and it's an admittedly small chance-that the vessel that just went down in Nicaragua is harboring one of the lost artifacts of the Primes."

At his words, everyone in the room grew still. They were all familiar with these lost artifacts, as most of the Autobots' efforts over the past few weeks had been to keep as many of these out of Decepticon hands as possible. The first thing Optimus asked was, "Do the Decepticons know?"

"I can't be sure. I think they would have tried to intercept if they did."

"Which one is it?" Bumblebee chirped.

Ratchet glanced to him and gave his head a little shake. "I don't know for certain, Bumblebee, but I have reason to believe it might be the Infinite Combinatoric."

The Autobots, as one, drew in a sharp vent of air; the children looked nonplussed. "So," Jack began, "this is the part where you tell us what it is…?"

Ratchet sighed. "That's a… complicated question. The Infinite Combinatoric was created by Solus Prime, like many of the other artifacts. It is said in the Covenant that she built it to give to Amalgamous Prime. Thus, it is speculated to be a weapon, but a weapon suitable for a shape-shifter such as Amalgamous."

"Wait, like that Decepticon who pretended to be Wheeljack?" Miko piped up.

"In a way," Ratchet conceded, "it is also said that Amalgamous Prime is the origin all of Shifters. Since Amalgamous Prime could and would assume many different forms in and outside of battle, any weapon he wielded could be rendered useless in a moment. Some say that Solus saw this as an irresistible challenge, and created the Infinite Combinatoric as a test of her skills. Others say it was to stop Amalgamous Prime from constantly bothering her for new weaponry. Either way, the Infinite Combinatoric is said to be, while not the most powerful, certainly the most versatile of all of the artifacts listed in the Covenant."

A heavy silence fell over the listeners. It was hard enough for the Autobots to overcome the Decepticons' collective edge in their day-to-day struggles, but allowing something like the Infinite Combinatoric to fall into their hands would turn a struggle into a stonewall. Versatility and determination were all the Autobots had against Megatron's sheer might.

"Just how big are we talking here?" Jack asked, arms crossed. "If this thing can really turn into any weapon, then it's got to be hard to miss, right?."

"The Combinatoric is able to alter its mass as well as its shape." It was Optimus, rather than Ratchet, who spoke up next. "It is heavy, though, regardless of the form it takes." This statement was met with a bit of confusion from the children, and Optimus continued, "I know this because the Infinite Combinatoric is an artifact that was found and lost again in the flight from Cybertron."

"Pirates," Ratchet added, shaking his head in disgust.

"Wait, like, 'yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum' pirates?" Jack queried uncertainly.

"Space pirates," Arcee answered. "They called themselves the Star Seekers, and they hated Autobots and Decepticons." She narrowed her eyes slightly. "It would've been different if we had a destination, or a straight shot to where we needed to go, but we were constantly stopping for supplies or repairs, and that's when they'd catch us. Every now and then we got lucky, though."

"Real lucky," Bulkhead added, "that's when we found the…" He paused, and decided not to try wrestling with the cumbersome syllables of the lost weapon's name. "Artifact."

"We were fleeing through an uncharted region of space, a region they knew well," Optimus said. "They ambushed us incessantly, and we were lucky to escape with our lives each time. One such conflict nearly ended our journey then and there. I was forced to trade the artifact for the lives of one of my bravest soldiers."

Jack wondered why they were being so brief with the story. It sounded one worth telling, and he was almost certain there was more to it than they'd mentioned so far... but he caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Bumblebee had averted his gaze to the floor very slightly, his doorwings drooping. Jack was used to the scout's body language enough to recognize shame when he saw it, and he decided to keep his mouth shut. One of his bravest soldiers... "So you had it, then lost it, and now you think it's back again…?"

Optimus pulled himself from his thoughts of the past and look to Ratchet. "What reason do you have to believe that this empty ship might be harboring the artifact in question?"

Ratchet sighed and looked back to his bank of vidscreens. "Not much, I'm afraid. This cargo vessel did, at one time, belong to the Star Seekers. That much I know." He stepped over to his console and pulled up two images. The first one was of the cargo vessel in the middle of an interstellar battle, clearly a single frame of some sort of video log; the outlines of the ship were blurred and the rest of the screen was dominated by brilliant slashes of laser fire. The other showed a still of the cargo vessel framed against the tranquil darkness of space, shortly before it entered Earth's atmosphere. It was definitely the worse for wear, battered and charred, but still recognizable.

A secondary screen compared the ship's identification numbers. They were a match.

"We don't know exactly where they took the Infinite Combinatoric after it was taken, but my guess would be their base. They called it Tortuga. A few weeks after we lost the artifact, the Decepticons launched a coordinated assault on that very place," Ratchet went on.

"The one and only time I was ever happy to hear they won a fight," Bulkhead muttered. "The pirates had been dogging us both, and the Decepticons finally got tired of it."

"That more or less ended our troubles with the pirates. For a long time we were worried that the Combinatoric ended up in Decepticon hands, but we would definitely know by now if they had it. Unfortunately… that's the only lead I have." Ratchet sighed. "It's possible that the cargo vessel was sent as a sort of guided missile, maybe by a pirate to spite the Decepticons, locked on our vessels' trajectory. It could be that a Decepticon straggler sent it after the Nemesis when he himself was unable to follow. Or it could just be a drifting hulk."

"So we have a small chance of success, and a lot to lose if we drag our feet and MECH or the Decepticons gets their hands on this hypothetical weapon before we do," Arcee said wryly, "sounds about usual for us."

"It's a long shot, but if I wanted to send something valuable to my comrades, but was unable to escort it," Ratchet went on, "this would be a viable method of doing so. This cargo vessel doesn't look valuable, and there are no active signals on it. The Decepticons wouldn't consider it a priority, and we would."

All eyes turned to Optimus. Their next move hinged on his decision. "Regardless of whether or not this ship is in fact harboring an artifact," he finally said, "we must see to it that we reach this vessel before MECH does. However, in light of these circumstances, I will see to it that the importance of attending to this matter quickly is impressed upon Agent Fowler."

Arcee stepped forward. "We're ready whenever you are, Optimus." None of the Cybertronians gathered there knew whether or not they would, in fact, stumble upon the Infinite Combinatoric, but they had to stake their hopes on something, and this long shot was pretty much all they had for the moment.

The various Earth governments involved were less moved, however.

The second day after the ship's initial crash was a long, grinding succession of frustrated hours as the Autobots, through Agent Fowler, tried to negotiate their way through that mountain of red tape they'd heard so much about. The children were spared from the worst of it (instead enduring a long, grinding succession of schoolwork), but by the time they arrived back at the base in the evening, they only had to take one look at Ratchet's face to know that things hadn't gone according to plan.

"I could take us there," the doctor was saying as they stepped away from their escorts. "It would just take a flip of that switch, that switch there-" He was pointing at the ground bridge controls. "And we'd be in and out."

"At the risk of upsetting those forces whose generosity we rely on," Optimus was saying calmly, "and losing our home base. Ratchet, no artifact is worth that."

"We have no guarantee of keeping our home base if MECH gets their hands on it. Think of the… the destruction those warmongering gear-grinding piston-lick-" he turned angrily from the controls and noticed the children for the first time, and he jerked, startled and a little embarrassed.

Bumblebee let out a low whistle, regarding Ratchet with wide eyes.

"Ratchet," Optimus laid a single hand on the medic's shoulder. "I understand your frustration, and I share it. But this is not our world. Rest assured, if I receive information that our foes are moving on the crash, then I will lead us into battle personally and without delay. But while the wreck lies undisturbed, we must abide by the customs of those who call this world their own."

A bit of the tension in Ratchet's frame eased somewhat, and he didn't pull away from the large, comforting hand against his plating. "You're… you're right. Of course," he added in a muttering undertone.

Something like a smile flickered across Optimus's faceplates, and a warmth entered his optics. "I know, old friend."

On the third day, they finally received good news from Fowler. The United States, in cooperation with local forces, was going to arrange a blackout of sorts in the (admittedly already very barren) plains in which the craft had landed. They would be guarded and undisturbed for as long as they needed to clean up the wreck. The catch was that they wouldn't have this set up for another two days.

Everyone was unhappy and restless with the news, to say the least. There were a lot of patrols that afternoon and a lot of frustration that was taken out on the roads surrounding Jasper, Nevada, as well as cities beyond…

…until around three in the afternoon.

When Arcee received the comm (which was a simple, emergency return-to-base signal), she was stuck in a commuter tunnel that had been carved straight through a local rock formation. There was no way to open a ground bridge without having a street packed with eye witnesses, and keeping low profile was a priority. Arcee immediately pulled out of her place and began weaving through the gridlocked cars. "Ratchet, what's going on?"

"MECH. They've found the crash. I've already sent Bumblebee and Bulkhead in. What's your current coordinates?"

"Not good," was her clipped response. "Scrap, give me a second." She gunned her engine and continued to swerve through the crawling vehicles when she spotted a turn ahead. Veering to the side, she slipped neatly between a truck and a sedan and arced up onto the tunnel wall itself, riding the smooth curve over several cars; she skimmed just above them, catching sight of the astonished drivers' faces peering at her through the windows.

So much for low-profile.

She curved back onto the pavement and rocketed out of the tunnel, veering immediately down a side-street, moving as fast as she could to leave the traffic and any passers-by behind. "Okay, I'm clear!" She transmitted her coordinates, and an instant later she saw the swirling green vortex of the land bridge open before her. She dove straight through it…

…and into the choking wet heat of Nicaragua.

She assessed the battlefield before her in an instant; MECH forces had swamped the crash site, and were using the bulk of the wreck itself as cover. Bumblebee was current running and gunning, retreating from two oncoming vehicles, both of which sported gunners with the young scout in their sights. "You're late!" He beeped to her as she sped past.

Arcee was still moving at the velocity with which she'd entered the ground bridge, and the drivers had no time to react to her charge. She drove straight for the cars, transforming as she came between them, digging a long furrow in the earth. She took a single, well-aimed shot at the tires of the vehicle on her right, which spun out of control, fishtailing into its partner just as Arcee cleared the area. The collision resulted in an impressive explosion of dirt and roiling fire, and Arcee stood, the heat washing over her and sending ghostly orange reflections dancing over her armor. She narrowed her eyes, blasters at the ready, and sought her next target.

Bumblebee cycled his optics slowly at the carnage. "Fashionably late," he corrected.

Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Arcee had no choice but to get aggressive and stay aggressive; they couldn't get near enough to the wreck without using artillery heavy enough to risk destroying it or whatever lay inside, and the covering fire of the MECH agents prevented them from getting around past their enemies' defenses.

Bulkhead was sporting a nasty gash across his chest. He had been first on the scene, and had smashed his way through the forced briefly enough to come free with something: a single cargo pod lay behind an outcrop of rock. "There's a bunch of 'em in the cargo hold, but they've already got their goons in there loading them up," he said to Arcee as she ducked back into cover. Bumblebee was on the battlefield once more.

Arcee looked to it. It was about half her size, and not much to look at.

"It's not very heavy," Bulkhead said with a despairing shake of his head. "But I figure it's something."

Conversation was understandably difficult to carry out under the circumstances, so the rest of Bulkhead's tale would have to wait. They would have to try and make another run for the cargo hold as soon as they could. "We just can't punch through their defensive line," Arcee barked. "Not unless all three of us-"

Her voice was interrupted by the roar of an engine, which started faint but grew louder. All eyes turned to the sight of a newly-opened ground bridge and the immense truck thundering through it. Optimus Prime had joined the fray at last. The Autobots wordlessly switched to alt mode and rallied to him, following in their leader's wake. Bumblebee and Arcee opened with a barrage of laser fire while Optimus gathered speed, not shifting until he was right on the mech forces, where he came down heavily and began laying into their defenses with his axe. Bulkhead followed shortly after, pummeling right and left with his wrecking ball.

Arcee was by far the quickest and most agile, and Bumblebee knew that; he flickered his lights at her before he shifted, covering her with every last shred of firepower under his command while she darted into the interior of the cargo hold.

It was a mess. Panels had been ripped from the walls, trailing coils of cable everywhere. Cargo crates and pods were strewn about, most of them gaping open and empty. The structure of the hold itself was decaying, having been bettered by solar winds and its fiery entry into earth's atmosphere. There were a few guards here, but the main occupants of the room were a team of scientists investigating one of the pods. They had a variety of tools at their command, a few of which had been applied to the surface of the capsule. They looked up just in time to meet Arcee's angry charge. The guards fired a few shots, but they were not quick enough to stop Arcee from leaping forward and seizing the pod. She began to leap away-but staggered under the weight.

A thrill flickered through her spark. It wasn't the heaviest thing she'd ever hoisted, but it was a lot heavier than any cargo cylinder should be.

The guards, seeing her retreat hampered, grew courageous and hefted their weapons again, but a well-timed shot from Arcee sent a rusted ceiling beam crashing down between her attackers and herself, giving her more than enough time to escape.

Bumblebee was waiting for her when she did. He had taken a hit, a nasty sparking wound to the side, but was too pumped up on cyber adrenaline to feel it. "Alt mode, now!" Arcee called. "Optimus, I have the package!"

Bumblebee immediately shifted, and Arcee swung herself up onto his roof. The pod was too large to fit into any of their alt-modes, and she didn't have time to pass it to anyone else. She crouched over the cylinder, holding onto Bumblebee's roof with one hand and firing behind her with the other. Bumblebee immediately surged forward, leaving the scattered MECH forces and the ruined cargo hauler behind, tearing over the open battlefield. Optimus and Bulkhead soon followed. "We need a bridge, Ratchet!" Bulkhead called.

In the next instant a ground bridge spiraled to life. Bulkhead paused only long enough to scoop up their secondary treasure, and as one, the Autobot forces retreated from the battlefield.

The children had all been somewhat bewildered as to what had happened to their rides home, but upon seeing the state of their friends-scorched, and in some cases, wounded-they immediately went to their respective guardians' side. Bumblebee's wound, while nasty-looking and painful, was largely superficial. Bulkhead was by far more wounded, sporting a fresh, tender-looking series of weldmarks across almost the entirety of his front. Ratchet had refused to look at either of the pods until his patients were seen to.

It wasn't long before everyone was gathered in the main room, all of them standing around the prize of the day's battle. Ratchet had decrypted the lock on the lightweight pod easily, and inside had been a few field repair kits as well as some simple tools. It was a paltry offering, but Ratchet was quite enthusiastic about it. The Autobots were desperate for any supplies they could get, and the presence of these few useful little trinkets would solve many of the myriad tiny problems plaguing the base.

The heavier pod, the real prize, was proving to be a bit of a problem. "This one was locked very, very carefully. Whatever's in here is definitely precious cargo." There was a hum of excitement in the room. "It requires a special key to open-it could be a series of words, a specific chemical substance… anything."

"Why not just blast it open?" Bulkhead volunteered.

"And risk destroying what's inside? Absolutely not! There's a chance that this might not be the Infinite Combinatoric." He didn't sound thoroughly convinced that it wasn't. If even cautious, cynical Ratchet thought it was likely they had struck lucky after all, who was to say they didn't? "I can crack it, but it will take time."

Another thing that was clear by the tone of his voice was that he wasn't going to waste any time on hesitation. Ratchet remained hunched over the pod until long after the children had finally gone home, pausing only to check Bulkhead and Bumblebee's welds before they left to recharge. In the wee hours of the morning, shortly before dawn, Optimus came to check on him.

"Still no luck?"

"Not yet," the doctor replied. "I'm close, though."

Optimus gave that almost-smile again and shook his head slightly. It was genuinely satisfying to see Ratchet so enthusiastic about something. He stood there with Ratchet in companionable silence for a few long moments before, quite unexpectedly, their communication array lit up across the room.

"Prime!" It was Fowler. "We've got a situation."

"Agent Fowler," the Autobot leader began in grave tones, "if this is about today's excursion to Nicaragua-"

"We can talk about that later. Looks like your little scuffle tipped your hand to MECH, and they decided to make good on your divided attention. We need your bots in Kentucky, and we need them now. They're going after Fort Campbell, and they just shredded our defenses like they weren't even there."

Ratchet and Optimus exchanged anxious glances.

Within moments they had the Autobots mobilized. Bumblebee was first out, followed shortly by Arcee, and then Optimus. "One of us will need to stay behind to operate the ground bridge," Ratchet explained, "Bulkhead, you're the worst damaged, and we might need a medic on the field. You stay, and I'll go."

Bulkhead didn't look too happy about being left behind, sighing showily through his vents. "Okay, but… just be careful, all right?" He didn't say it out loud, but the question was hanging ominously in everyone's mind. MECH had just attacked a US military base, and had done so with frightening ease. What kind of heat were they packing? Hopefully it wasn't the "lost Cybertronian artifact" kind. Bulkhead glanced to the side and did a double-take. "Didn't crack open the pod?" The electronic display on the front of the capsule was still a bright red: locked.

"No. Take that to storage while you're here. We might need that operating table when I get back," Ratchet called, transforming and following the others through the ground bridge. With another sigh, Bulkhead deactivated it, staring at the blank wall where the portal had been moments before.

"Good luck," he said to the empty air.

Then he regarded the pod. It was heavy when he lifted it, but not something that he couldn't handle. He lugged it over one shoulder to their storage room, setting it down beside their pitifully small pile of stockpiled energon, laying it on its side. The supply room was only about a third full, with the majority of its supplies having been added just that day. There were empty cargo crates stacked to one side, and a few free-standing shelving stands that had been pushed against the wall, as well as a generator humming near the end of the room.

He looked back down to the pod again. It had better be the Infinite Combinatoric, if only to make up for how sad and bare the rest of the room looked. Bulkhead turned to leave, letting the door hiss behind him and lingering in the hallway. As he did, he missed the sight of the electronic display flickering once, twice, briefly displaying a digital representation of an energon cube, before glowing a brilliant green.

He had made it about two steps through the hall when he heard the muffled clank behind him. Bulkhead froze. He was alone in the Autobot base, and he had just heard the very definite sound of something metallic hitting the floor. The last time he had heard mysterious noises, it had turned out to be Scraplets. The green mech was big, and fearsome, and definitely brave in the face of certain danger, but it didn't take much to creep him out. It took him a few moments to work up the courage to turn around and walk slowly, slowly back to the storage room. He hesitantly keyed the door to open and peeked inside.

Absolutely nothing was amiss. The pod was leaning quietly against the wall, the crates were undisturbed, and there wasn't a Scraplet in sight. Huh. Maybe he'd taken one too many knocks on the head. He turned and began to leave once more, freezing in the doorway.

The pod hadn't been leaning against the wall when he left. He had placed it right next to the energon.

There was another faint scuffling sound behind him, and Bulkhead immediately spun around, wrecking ball at the ready. He inched carefully forward, optics darting back and forth. The pod was even further askew, and the pile of energon was disturbed as well. Very carefully, he shuffled sideways until he could prod at the cylinder with his foot.

It rocked gently. It was empty.

There was another soft sound, the gentle hissing scrape of metal on metal, and Bulkhead narrowed his optics. It had come from near the generator. If that capsule had been stuffed full of Scraplets as some kind of sick joke, then the last thing he wanted them to be chewing on was the generator. …well, okay, second to last. He moved as slowly and soundlessly as he could (which was not very) and hefted his wrecking ball. Okay. It was now or never.

Abruptly he leaned over the generator, wrecking ball raised, and was greeted with a sight he most certainly did not expect. The first thing he noticed were the pair of narrowed red optics trained directly up at him from near the floor. The second thing he noticed was the hunched shape of a decidedly small mech, a mech whose EM fit was flickering fitfully, obviously fresh from statis.

"Hands off, Autodork!"

The third thing he noticed was the piledriver coming straight for his face.