A/N: Sorry for the long delay. I've been swamped with college homework, studying for my ASVAB and AFOQT, as well as trying to pay the bills. Sometimes I feel like a hamster in an exercise wheel—running my butt off but not getting anywhere. Anyways, enough babble. This chapter is another filler; however it's a setup for things to come. So enjoy and please R/R.

Disclaimer: Don't own TFs; Hasbro does.

Chapter Ten: Incoming Transmissions

Agent Reginald Simmons had never been accused of being a "people person." Therefore, he didn't indulge Optimus Prime in small talk.

"Look Prime, I'm not even supposed to be here, so I'm going to cut to the chase." Simmons' caustic attitude was even more biting than usual. His face was drawn from worry and dark circles encompassed his eyes; a suit that was once wrinkle-free looked as if it hadn't seen the dry cleaners in weeks. In short, Agent Simmons looked like he had gone through Hell and back again.

Optimus nodded his head in understanding; he waited patiently for Simmons to continue.

"Look. I know you believe that Sector Seven was disbanded by the US government after Mission City. It's bullshit," Simmons paused, catching his breath. "The organization split; half decided to throw in the towel and the other half joined up with some kind of freak organization hell-bent on destroying you guys." A questioning look was beginning to cloud the Autobot leader's optics, so Simmons quickly continued.

"Prime, I'm not proud of what I did, staying with 'em I mean. Hell, if I'd had known things were going to get this bad I'd have left the alien hunting business to the guys at NASA."

"Do not concern yourself with the past, Simmons; what's done is done," Optimus spoke softly. This was a very different man than the one he had met that night when Sam Witwicky and Michaela Banes were arrested. "You said that Sector Seven divided, and now those who wished to continue 'observing' us now seek to destroy us?"

Simmons allowed himself a dry chuckle. "You put it quite nicely, Optimus, but yes, that's it in a nutshell, and I was one of them. I have no desire to add murderer to my repertoire. Killing alien machines bent on destroying my planet is one thing; killing innocent human civilians that may or may not have a connection to you aliens is another. And that's what Sector Seven is doing now. Look," the man spread his hands apart for emphasis, "almost three days ago a family of three went missing—the Richards family."

"I believe I heard something pertaining to the Richards family. Are you referring to the vehicle accident of Anaba Richards and her daughter's subsequent self-termination?"

"That was no accident and there was no suicide, Prime. It was all a cover-up. A man by the name of Darren Miller issued a command for the arrest of Anaba Richards and her daughter Dezba Collins. So far as I know he's the right hand man of S7, not to mention my commander. He wanted the girl dead to begin with, so he hired two scumbags to take her into the Mohave and dump the body. The less witnesses he had to deal with the better, you know, that sort thing. Well, as it so happened, one of those Decepticons saw them, killed the two hitmen, and kidnapped her. Rumor has it she has some sort of mind power. Miller wasn't aware that she had it at the time, but now that he does…" Simmons trailed off.

"He'll do anything he can to get her back," Optimus finished for him.

"Exactly."

"What became of the mother and father?" Prime questioned.

"Miller had Mrs. Richards killed when he couldn't get any relevant information out of her. She was rumored to have the power as well. But as soon as Miller found out Dezba was still alive…I don't need to tell you the rest. As for Mr. Richards, he's the asshole who started this ball rolling. He turned his wife in to Miller when she told him she'd been having strange dreams of you guys, I mean, not any of you in particular, just you aliens as a whole. Anyways, Richards turned her in for an exchange—a promotion." At this Simmons paused and mumbled under his breath, "Stupid son of a bitch."

"So, as I understand it, Richards is not her biological father," Optimus clarified.

"Yeah. Her real father was accidentally killed in a training operation, friendly fire."

"I see." Optimus mulled over the information trying to make sense of it all. Obviously, Agent Simmons was at a great risk coming to him with this information. Relations with Sector Seven had been tenuous at best, before their supposed dispersion. Now, it seemed Sector Seven had become a hostile underground network bent on every Transformers' destruction and they didn't care who or what got in their way. To compound matters further, an innocent human girl had almost been murdered and was now being held hostage by Decepticons. Her mother was murdered and her stepfather had betrayed her for his own selfish desires. She was also rumored to have a special power that both the Decepticons and Sector Seven would do anything to possess. Yes, things had certainly gotten very complicated in a very short amount of time. "Agent Simmons," Optimus began, his deep blue penetrating gaze causing Simmons to shift uncomfortably, "I know you are in a precarious position coming to me with this information. Therefore, I want to extend to you an invitation of our protection until we can get to the bottom of this."

Simmons cast his gaze downwards, whether from embarrassment or shame Prime couldn't determine. Finally, he looked Optimus in the optic and gave his reply. "Well uh, I uh, appreciate the offer Optimus, but I don't think it'll be necessary. They don't know I'm gone yet and if anything does happen to me, well, at least I tried to make things right. But uh, if anything else happens I'll get in touch." With that Simmons turned sharply on his heel and strode from the Command Center, his back rigid and stride quick and choppy.

It wasn't lost on Optimus that Reginald Simmons had avoided his offer. Just the same, he would be sure to keep tabs on Simmons. For now, he needed to talk with the others about the situation at hand and try to work out a plan of action. It was a race against time, and the clock was ticking.

It had been another long, tedious day for the new leader of the Decepticons. As a result, Starscream was still deep in recharge when his internal com began to beep obnoxiously. With a feral growl the brown jet on-lined his optics and waited for his main systems to boot up (of course, this all took just a fraction of a second). "This had better be good, or so help me Primus I will melt your carcass down to slag and use the remains for a door jamb!"

"Take it easy, Starscream. Don't shoot the messenger," Barricade's gruff voice came over the com, "You have an incoming transmission. And just tryto make me into a door jamb, you slagger." The connection broke abruptly, leaving Starscream cursing to himself.

"That insubordinate scrapheap! It would almost be worth the effort to try!" Slowly, Starscream rose to his feet and stretched his arms and wings, relishing the tingling feeling of hydraulics and servos gradually stretching out, much like human muscles that have been held in the same spot for too long and are finally being stretched.

Barricade was waiting by the control console in the Communications Room, a faint but ever present smugness in his ruby optics. Ignoring the scout, the brown jet depressed a button and opened the communications channel.

"This is Lord Starscream."

"Lord Starscream, Soundwave reporting," a very metallic and monotonous voice droned over the airwaves.

"Soundwave, good of you to report. What is your status?" Starscream asked.

"Estimated time of arrival: 2.3 solar cycles," Soundwave replied. The connection buzzed with static like a radio having trouble tuning a station.

"Excellent! Are there any others with you?" A devilish gleam lit Starscream's optics. Finally, the Decepticons had an opportunity to bolster their numbers and mount a come-back against the Autobots. Then another thought crossed his processor; Soundwave might be able to determine the origin of human's unique capability. He rubbed his hands with glee.

"Affirmative. Runabout and Runamuck also en-route."

"Yes, Yes! Very good Soundwave. Contact me as soon as you make landfall. I will send you coordinates for a rendezvous."

"Affirmative." With a last gust of static the connection broke and silence filled the Communications Room. Starscream glanced over at Barricade. "It appears you will have soldiers to command once again, Barricade," Starscream grinned mischievously.

"Huh," the interceptor grunted. "Those two will be about as helpful as a glitch mouse in a mother board." He crossed his massive arms across his chest, optics glowering. Barricade was less than happy to hear about the new arrivals. Two of the three were a little better than mobile battering rams, while Soundwave just plain freaked him out. You never could tell what that telepath was thinking. He watched as Starscream strode from the room, probably to return to recharge knowing that lazy fragger. A puff of hot air escaped his vents in the robotic equivalent of a sigh. Well, back to work.

Starscream had indeed left for his quarters, but not to return to recharge. He needed to plan. Since Barricade's return from Mission City, he now knew that the humans were on to them and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out they wanted the girl. After all, they had a prime opportunity to try and take his scout down, yet they opted to only follow him. The stupid fleshbags. Once Soundwave arrived he had high hopes that the telepath would be able to shed some light on their "guest's" ability. Runabout and Runamuck would serve greatly as Autobot cannon fodder and distractions. Things had certainly taken a turn for the best, and if the human proved an asset it would make his conquest of Cybertron and this mudball that much easier. If she proved a fluke, well…what was one more squishy's death?