A/N: I apologize for cutting chapter 9 but I hope this chapter reaches you soon enough. I purposefully left chapter nine as an over-all cliffhanger and revealed a tiny tid-bit about Prowl that I think will add more intrigue to the story. I hope Jazz doesn't come off as a total flirt, rather than a guy who hasn't had ANY in a very, VERY long time. I remember reading a fanfic ( 2007 Bayverse based) where Ironhide says "Damn, we need women." or something like that. I think that aspect of war is pretty damn hilarious, given the severity of the situation as it is.

Edit: I was supposed to post this chapter several days ago, but while discussing the story with my sister, and we had a very, very long discussion about how the first Contact would actually go. She was sort of unhappy with how I've been portraying MJ and then saying she's this awesome passive aggressive doctor bad ass. She also heavily criticized some other characters. Being the sisters we were, we bickered for days, thus this is the main reason for the huge delay.

Edit: Chapter still not posted. Apparently I made a huge mistake involving Gravity that required to rewrite large parts of the entire chapter and simultaneously set my plot back by at least several more chapters.

Anyways, about the little asteryx added to the term "wing man" at the end of chapter 9: while it holds the same meaning as it does for us humans, in Cybertronian pop culture it refers to the Seeker trines and how they tend to do things together. Like helping their wing mate score a date and stuff like that. I am working hard on fleshing out Cybertronian culture and I hope it shows. Also, in this story, whenever we see a Cybertronian talking in their language or from their point of view, assume that any given translation to English has been made in such a way to be understandable to us.

I have a lot of material about this story that didn't make the cut but I might add later as side stories, for example MJ's work during the first months after the Event, how Fia lost her son, more of Fia's backstory, since it's really, really complicated and she's been through a lot which contributes to her over all extreme at times character. Also a bit about the little-known war heroes who will be more or less only mentioned. Like Tiffany Mitchels, whose example inspires people even well after her own death. There is also this guy Sam, not Simon Woodsworth, but an Aussie fellow that I've ever only mentioned in my other fanfics once or twice. He is amazing and awesome on many, many levels and part of the original story all of my fanfics are based on, more or less. I can say I've worked hard to flesh out my characters. They all have backstories and they all have their own reasons for doing stuff.

But let's get back to this story before the feels get too much about all of my unspoken heroes and stuff.

Edit: Finally found the files. Had to reinstall windows on my shitty lap top after which lost the USB with my written work forlder. Fun times.

[May 3rd, year 2032, with Autobot Ironhide, Brian, Albert and Wolfgang, 6:30 am]

Seekers were a nasty lot, no matter how a grounder looked at it. Ironhide, being as old as he was, remembered a time back when Vos had been at its height of power and the Vosians had looked down upon any groundpounder in their vicinity. Vosians, especially the Seekers, were an isolated lot that took offense from anyone and anything. Their prettiness almost made up for their horrid tempers and their egos. Almost.

So here he was now, asking himself, if Vos had joined the Decepticon Cause then why were these Seekers not part of the Decepticons as well? The Seekers were a single flock the way Ironhide understood it and he knew what a Seeker looked like, even if these ones were particularly large and thickly armored. They most certainly reminded him of Thundercracker, one of the Air Commander's Trine. Especially their largest one, a mech with a massive and powerful frame that just cut in half one of their Decepticon attackers with his broad sword.

Ironhide knew very well what he was seeing, even if every single program in his processor was ordering him to shoot them. They looked the very definition of a Decepticon, especially the black sleek one that had been knocked out during the beginning of this fight. Still, these were youngsters, he could tell by their lacking fighting technique. They were most likely part of the neutrals that had for some reason landed on this Pit-forsaken Energon Mining Facility.

They did not speak a single glyph of Neo-Cybex and even the few glyphs he knew of the Vosian dialect were just as unknown to them. They had their own archaic language that he could not understand nor comprehend but he knew Seeker behavior well enough. These folk here, whoever they were, had the Seeker coding active. He could see it in the way their wings flittered and spread, challenging their opponents, in the way they practically danced on the battlefield and dodged whenever possible. Their near feral smiles indicated a blood thirst, a desire to completely decimate their opponent and at the same he could practically drown in the protectiveness and the aggression that followed, all because of their fallen wing-brother.

He had thought today couldn't get any stranger, but now he could add fighting along side Seekers as one of his strangest encounters to date. The three Seekers were obviously brothers, having similar frames and paint jobs. The smallest of them, the one wielding a large two-handed hammer cannon of a sort, was patching up the black Seeker, who, come to think of it, had exactly the same helm crest as the other three, and shared a distinct likeness with them as well. Perhaps a fourth brother?

"I cannot contact forward camp or Sky. Harry's got a main Calorium line punctured. I can patch it up but he'll need Jungler to fix him properly."

"I don't think we can afford to wait too long, Al. Brian managed to send out an emergency message as soon as- Hah!" The second tallest of the three brother Seekers decapitated a Vehicon before quickly dodging a blast to the face from another Vehicon. The young-spark had good reflexes, Ironhide could give him that. "Where the fuck are these jokers coming from!?"

The frustration in his voice was a clear enough indicator to what he said, at least Ironhide thought so. The Vehicons were literally swarming them. Possibly a small token force left behind to patrol the system just in case Autobots and Neutrals would pop up.

Ironhide forewent charging his own cannons. At this point they'd consume too much energy. Energy that he could not easily restore. He bent down and picked up the middle brother's fallen second axe and swung it with practiced ease, effortlessly splitting the head of a Vehicon standing next to said Seeker Brother. The youngster blinked for a second and then turned to him and nodded, thanking him for the helping hand.

They had this wordless agreement going on. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. And since he had been lucky enough for the three Seekers to see the Vehicons ambushing the fourth Seeker, they had readily joined him in battle.

"Blacklash is secured! Clear the area – it's Hammer Time!" the smallest of the three brothers yelled and Ironhide could practically taste the rapidly rising killer intent in his field.

Al used his anti-grav thrusters to boost his jump as he prepared to bring down glorious techno justice upon these aftholes. Brian rolled to the side as Wolfgang bodily shoved Ironhide out of the way. Albert was the oldest of the three brothers. He may have been the smallest (relatively and not by much) but he was also a force of reckoning.

"BOOYEAH, MOTHERFUCKERS!"

The hammer slammed with the force of a meteorite. There was a quiet but high pitched sound emitting from the rapidly growing, glowing core of the hammer head that was quickly increasing in intensity. Before Ironhide could understand what was going on, parts of the hammer head separated, detached. For a moment nothing happened and then, as sudden as a super nova, the blast wave swept away everything in a cone shaped EMP within a moderate distance. Whoever had designed this weapon, it was a fragging piece of art, an instrument of death that few would have the senses to appreciate in its true potential. Now he understood why the smallest Seeker's servos were coated in such a strange, unnatural looking armor. And even so, it was still obvious how he was straining with the effort to hold on to his hammer and to stay on his feet. A prototype of some sort, perhaps?

With that single hit, Ironhide witnessed four Vehicons' nervous systems being completely obliterated by the vicious EMP. It would not be enough, though. There were still at least twenty or so mooks to handle and neither of them were prepared to fight such a number of enemies who also happened to have superior ranged power. They needed a way to cut the distance without being shot to pieces. In this frozen wasteland there weren't a lot of places where they could find cover. One of the Seekers' wings was bent in an unnatural way and he had to feel at least slightly impressed by the sheer determination to continue to fight even in such a condition. For a Seeker, the wings were their life. It was another thing that literally sounded the alarms in his processors. There were so many things that were just right and then again just as many that were so wrong when it came to their particular Seeker behavior, that he just had to stop himself from where his thoughts were going and to focus once again on the battle. It had been, after all, millennia since he had last seen actual new faces. Where had these kids come from? Why now? Why here of all places?

[May 3rd, year 2032, with Autobot Jazz, Dawnbreaker, Jungler, Gravity and Skylar Frio, 7:32 am]

"Woah, where have you been all my life, babe? You've turned my world upside down! Literally!"

Jazz was hanging in thin air by one pede...somehow... and before him were two femmes. One of them was the dark brown and dark green grounder femme he had seen with the shuttle femme. She had a very severe expression on her face. This close he could see the unusual color of her optics. They were a dazzling green color that contrasted heavily with her otherwise dark coloration. She looked like she could give Ironhide a run for his shanix just with that scowl alone.

Next to her was an elegant matte black grounder femme with white face plates. She possessed a retractable bronze-gold visor and beneath it a pair of pale blue optics. Just from looking at her frame he guessed she had some sort of Praxian roots. There was a Sniper Rifle on her back and a short sword of some sort strapped with some strange material to her waste. She had a pale brown, perhaps beige shawl of a similar material wrapped around her neck. Unlike her fellow femme, she seemed to scrutinize him with nothing more than carefully presented disinterest.

"I don't know what he just said, but I know that smile well enough." Jungler was NOT impressed.

"No matter the race, men are always pigs!" Gravity ground out through her teeth, irritation and exasperation quite evident.

"Hn."

The smaller femme passed by him and headed towards the wounded shuttle.

"I tried to patch her up, you know, babe. She's one pit of a femme. Half-dead and wings blown to the Pit and still has enough fight to take on even the Slag-maker himself!"

Jazz kept on talking, both excited and exhilarated. Finally, after all this time, they may have a ticket, a way out of this Pit-damned frozen death hole. Perhaps they could even get to Optimus. Jazz could only imagine the warm welcome his leader and friend would give. He wondered how Prime and the Autobots who made it with him were doing. He was sure Ratchet, that old bastard, was still up and kicking. He'd probably rearrange their processors backwards when he sees in just what a sorry state Prowl was, but it wasn't as if they had expected any of this to happen the way it did. If it hadn't been for what Prowl did, both he and Ironhide would be long dead and Prowl probably captured and tortured. Such was the nature of war and all Jazz could do at this point was hope that at least Prime and his Team were doing better.

These neutrals seemed friendly. At least he thought they'd be friendly. They hadn't opened fire or anything on him yet. He didn't count the shuttle babe's little outburst. She seemed the fiery crazy type to just lash out like that. She was both crazy hot and a hot crazy and he'd bet half his spark the femme'd be a riot in the berth if her zest even in such a state was any indication. Then there was this tough-aft no-nonsense femme with the green optics that he just knew would do wonders if he could just get her to wind down. And the black femme? She was absolutely silent and amazingly graceful when she moved. He swallowed drily thinking about the things he'd do with an equally agile and flexible partner. Oh mech, he couldn't remember the last time he had spent some private sexy time with a femme. As an Autobot he had priorities. As a mech... well, he had... other priorities.

"Ginny, shut him up. I'm trying to work here." the black femme said mildly, pleasantly, in that strange language of hers.

About halfway through his excited rant it occurred to Jazz that these neutrals didn't speak Neo-Cybex. In fact, they didn't speak any form of Cybertronian language. About halfway through getting squeezed tightly by some sort of invisible force, it occurred to Jazz that it was the dark brown and green femme that was the source of his unlikely imprisonment. It was at that point that he noticed the glint in her green optics.

"Oh, scrap!"

And just like that, Autobot Jazz, the Jazzmeister, the Annoying One, The Alien Sapper Ninja Troll Griefer of legend, was reverse free falling into the cold sky.

And then he was free falling the proper way.

The high-pitched femme-ish scream that was emitted at that moment was so totally not his.

[May 3rd, year 2032, with Doctor Michael Jessica Keats, Designation: Jungler, 9:07 am]

Whatever that alien had done, he had done it well enough. He had patched most of the damaged Calorium lines and had bought Dawnbreaker the time needed. It was obvious that the patch job was amateurish at best, but when saving someone's life the last thing one had to worry about was the aesthetics. He had bought Fiona time and for that, MJ was truly grateful. Perhaps the alien was a friendly after all. But there were still too many unknowns to make her trust him enough to release him of Ginny's hold.

The black and white mecha with the cheeky grin was a surprisingly animate, lively creature, MJ decided. He was cheerful, energetic and just plain upbeat. He carried this energy that was so unlike their surroundings and perhaps that had been the characteristic that had immediately appealed to her. His BEM field reminded her of Fiona on her better days, especially in the days before everything had gone down the shit hole. Jungler crushed the bittersweet pang in her heart/spark before it could fully surface and focused on her work – making sure Fiona's patches would hold until they were back at their forward camp where Jaeger would assist her.

As of the past hour and a half, Dawnbreaker was finally stable enough. Her brand new paint job was completely ruined, the exquisite currently red wings were horribly disfigured but still salvageable. In truth, it hadn't been the avalanche that had caused all this damage. As per usual, Dawnbreaker's rash actions had aggravated all of her wounds, both serious and light, to the point where torn metal had teared up further, smaller Calorium vessels had been ripped from present shrapnel and a lot of Calorium had been spilled in her attempts to vent her panicked aggression. Really, this alien fellow had absolutely nothing to do with Fiona's current condition. She knew her well enough to know when she had been the progenitor of her own wounds and when said wounds were inflicted by an outside source.

Jungler gave a customary quick glance to where the new mecha had been deposited. Gravity was watching him like a hawk and Sky had finally come close enough to them. He seemed skittish but mostly reserved in his behavior. Given his great dislike of the snow environment, she found herself remaining unsurprised and nonplussed by this continuously evolving development. She was worried for him and that she couldn't deny. But right now, even if Gravity was technically the superior officer, it all lay down to her own self to handle this mess of a situation. She couldn't afford to show neither hew worry or her own fears. Sky was spooked as it was, Gravity was in a far bitchier and grumpier mood than usual. Lewis, Jaeger and Fernandez were currently busy further deciphering this strange new alien language, fixing Anatoli's mechanical boo-boos and securing their forward base with small portable turret drones and whatever else Fernandez had brought, exclusively in that order.

She had no idea what Harry's team was doing but she was mostly certain they could handle pretty much anything for now. She could be only at so many places at the same time. Jungler, however, had the feeling this would be one of those days that she'd have to grit her teeth through. Nimble fingers worked diligently with small, fine tools, repatching wounds, sealing small ripped Calorium vessels, straightening bent, ripped metal, all the while keeping an eye on the main vessel pressure as Calorium trickled through the IV.

Base protoform temperature, electromagnetic nanite activity, EEG statistics, spark chamber fluctuations, peripheral hardware statistics, wing turbines functionality and a lot more other information littered her visor screen. Physiologically the mecha were not very different, if at all, from normal organic humans. Fiona was no exception, if perhaps, she was in possession of probably the most powerful and lively spark she has scanned to this date. Power flowed through this frame. Power that rarely had the needed outlet. Power that even this heavily reinforced frame could barely handle. Joints have always been a favorite weak spot of hers. Their maintenance happened at least three times per week, courtesy of Jungler MD herself. Especially her left shoulder joint. The huge tower shield that she was still in the process of mastering was a near-unpenetratable fortification in its own right. It was ridiculously thick and heavy, made of the best alloys Earth could afford.

This time the damage hadn't been done to her shoulder but rather her wing joints. They had taken the brunt of the mine explosion and the force of the avalanche as well. Both wings had to be manually removed and the majority of pieces had to be beaten back into shape. A grueling task best left to the Valkyrie's resident smith. For now the best she could do was to remove the wings themselves, separate what pieces of them she could and prepare Fiona for emergency extraction to their forward camp.

Had they been Cybertronians, Fiona's condition would've rendered her incapable of combat for a very long time. But they were human. And humanity was resourceful, tough as nails and stubborn. This was merely an inconvenience at best for the Commander of the Third Fleet. The Vestige Fleet.

" Doctor, the alien is stirring." Gravity informed her just as MJ stretched her stiff and cold frame. She hated winter. She used to hate summer more, given her very pale complexion, but with her current mecha status winter was a far more serious problem than summer would ever be again. But this was neither here nor there.

After Gravity's magnetic yo-yo escapades the mecha had been quiet for precisely seven minutes. Then the incessant blabbering had started again. The flirt was shamelessly laying on his foreigner charm, further annoying an already very ornery Ginny. Things would've gone from bad to worse, hadn't MJ decided that an unconscious alien was a far more manageable alien. A small syringe thrown straight at his neck later and he was in alien dream land within seconds. It was at this point that they had called Skylar over.

All the separate pieces of wing plates, broken and whole joints, turbines, armor plate pieces, ripped and intact Calorium vessels – all of these things were still coated in cooled but still glowing Calorium. All of these things had been meticulously cataloged and arranged to be stored within one of Sky's free compartments. Jutting metal wounds were cleaned up, the metal shavings stored away as well, given that this was of Fiona's own, personal flesh-metal to be smelted and reused if possible. It was mostly armor plate shavings and those were not as important as her protoform. Her protoform was in a satisfying state. Not a good one, per se, but stable and strong enough to handle the hassle of the emergency extraction.

"This is all I can do for now, Fia." MJ said apologetically as she stood up with a quiet grunt. She looked at her still unconscious best friend and delicately wiped off some of the accumulated frost on her brow and crown. This peaceful expression would be gone the moment she regained consciousness, Jungler knew her well enough. She'd wake up hissing and groaning from all the freshly patched and treated wounds, she'd start wiggling and complaining if not outright jump out of her cot and if her armor isn't removed, she'd rip it right off her protoform in her frustration and she'd scratch and fuss at everything. And then she'd start to loudly complain. Again.

And that was the best case scenario. Worst case she'd wake with a start mid transportation and slug someone or something with her fists or claws, cause a lot of damage in her panicked state to Sky's hull's interior and they'd crash to, likely, their deaths due to stupidity on everyone's part.

So, to prevent all of the mentionedscenarios, she'd simply add enough tranquilizer that could potentially cause cardiac arrest in a blue whale, had it been suitable for organics. Dawnbreaker would sleep it off like a champ in twelve hours to a day and a half, and wake up in a much better and far more manageable condition. She had used approximately a tenth of that doze to put the alien mecha to sleep. It would hold off for a few more hours in which time they'd arrive and secure him at forward camp. And all of that fuss free.

It would be glorious.

...

Some people were good at babysitting children.

Other people, like Jungler, were good at babysitting grown-ups. And, for Jungler herself, using a little tranquilizer now and then went a long way to alleviate some of the stress from her job.

The trip back to forward camp was uneventful and silent. For MJ it went by faster due to her constantly monitoring Fiona. She used this time to gently remove any and all accessible armor plates which she could easily fix without them being attached to Fiona. The warm interior of Sky's shuttle form helped return some of the vibrancy of Dawnbreaker's colors. Add to that the still trickling infusion of Calorium and the cobalt blue hue of her protoform's dermal plates seemed almost healthy and normal.

The snow helped Skylar land his shuttle form very softly onto the ground. Jaeger and Fernandez immediately went out to greet them with another batch of bad news.

"We received an emergency message from Stormcloak. They've made first contact and Blacklash is critically injured. He was receiving treatment but the message came some two hours ago. We tried to contact you but-"

"The signal's been jammed. We know. We also made first contact. This one here was flirting. We think."

MJ's voice was slightly haughty as she dismissively waved towards where Gravity was carrying Jazz like a sack of potatoes on one of her shoulders and Donnie's bare protoform covered with only a blanket floating right beside her.

"It seems we have one more trip to make, Michelle." Sky stated, sounding slightly resigned at the prospect and yet determined to do his job.

"Hmm." MJ mumbled out in agreement, sharing approximately the same amount of enthusiasm as him at the prospect. "I'll set up the monitoring system on our Commander and we'll be off, Sky. Jaeger I expect you to- Where is First Lieutenant Zhukovsky?"

Silence ensued.