Present day…

Fegali gave me a glare and the fur along my spine rose stiffly beneath his harsh gaze, my ears flattening to my head.

"I have to, 'Gali." I told him quietly.

His engine growled, voicing his displeasure. "I don't like it."

I wrapped my arms carefully around his waist and pressed the side of my face into his chestplate like I used to do when I was younger. "I know, 'Gali."

At last he sighed and placed his hand between my shoulder blades, conveying his worry for me without words. Then he released his hold and transforming, sped down the corridor for monitor duty with Amina. Hesitantly I rang the chime at Slash's door, stepping back slightly as it slid open with a quiet hiss. She glanced up at me and I paused to shiver slightly – only slightly, for I was used to Barricade and Skywarp's optics though seeing almost-red optics in what was almost Mother's face made me shiver all the time – before walking in.

"How did you join the Decepticons?"

The ex-Decepticon femme put down her stylus and sat back in her chair. It was easy for me to leap nimbly up to the top of her desk. As I was constantly (and irritatingly) reminded, I was basically a big cat.

"Barricade," she said simply. "Why?" My fur fluffed out in irritation as I sat down and pulled out a spare data-pad and a stylus from my bag. Quickly, I explained to her what I was doing while she listened with quiet attentiveness. When I was done, her tail shifted and her optics narrowed and she looked down at her data-pad. I guessed that it was a reader, though of what I wasn't entirely sure. "I won't be like Ratchet and give you my journals," she said at last. "Forgive me for that. But whenever you have a question, you can come to me at any time."

I found myself grinning in relief. "Thanks, Slash."

She nodded, though her optics saw a time and a place that I didn't know. "Well, it was around the time that Sentinel Prime was killed. Just before it, actually, I had met him. He was hardly a vorn old." she paused and looked at me as I scribbled notes on my data-pad.

Noticing that she stopped, I looked up at her, raising a furred brow. Ah, the age difference. My ears flattened and I snorted at her. For races that live for as long as Cybertronians and Xarmixkealans do, ages don't seem to matter as much. I was still young, but living with a near-immortal race, with beings that were probably as old if not older than my home planet, age seemed trivial. From a human standpoint, however, the phrase 'robbing the cradle' would apply in Slash and Barricade's case.

Aforementioned femme looked vaguely embarrassed. "Right. Sorry. Dealing with the delegates too much," she apologized, making a vague motion with her clawed hand.

I had to grin at that. The unlucky soul who dealt with the human delegates was always pitied. It was a game among the high-command of the Jossine to draw straws, the loser going to deal with the pesky humans. Which made it worse for me, considering that Fegali had to participate in it and if he was called I would have to go in his stead due to his inability to speak to others.

"I'd been attending a rally as an Enforcer – off-duty of course – and ran into Barricade. Literally." Slash smiled fondly. "He was the one to convince me to join the Decepticons, the one to be a spy in the Autobot ranks to prove myself to lord Megatron." The warlord's title was said with a trace of disgust in her voice, her lips curling downward. As she spoke, I wrote in my data-pad.

Four million years later:

Earth time: 1984 AD

The Decepticon peered down at the femme whose growth had been slowed and stunted by stasis-lock and lack of energon. The optics of the beastly femme, though, were as sharp and clear and dangerous as ever. Megatron waved a hand at Hook. "Hook, outfit our new recruit with something more proper of a Decepticon," he said, inspecting the dangerous form of the Pit-Dragon before him. "Wings, I think. And find her some Decepticon sigils."

The Constructicon glanced at his leader sidelong. "Yes, lord Megatron." He murmured, giving the silver mech a slight bow.

"But first," he said, ruby optics narrowing. "We must think of a proper name for her. What do you think?"

The femme transformed smoothly and almost delicately, the power hidden beneath her feminine grace. "Slash." She said, mouth parting in a fanged grin. "Is that acceptable…my lord?"

Megatron gave a nasty grin in reply. "I like it. Welcome, Decepticon Slash."

Slash bowed, the garishly bright sunlight of the wretched planet they had crashed upon shining against her bright yellow armor even though it was coated in dust. It was a color they'd have to fix: no Decepticon who was as dangerous as her should be subjected to such cheerful colors. "Thank you, Lord Megatron."

"Ultra Magnus to Shadow Flash, come in please."

Flash sighed. This was the ninth message in the last cycle and quite frankly, it was annoying her. "What? What do you want?" she snapped, rules of decorum conveniently forgotten and purged from her memory banks for that cycle where she had to deal with the pesky Autobot.

There was a long pause as the Autobot undoubtedly rocked back on his heels, startled by the sudden outburst. "I'd like to speak to the captain, if you please."

"Captain's busy or she'd have answered. You can tell me and stop calling, or you can wait for her and have your calls ignored or blocked." Flash snarled. "Because quite frankly, I'm irritated and if you call again and the Captain's not here, I'll hang up on you."

A startled silence, then meekly Ultra Magnus gave her the message. When he hung up, the turbohawk in the corner gave a low krrarrkrrarr in laughter. If she didn't know better, it sounded like he was choking on something.

"Hush, you," she said without rancor. The turbohawk continued his sounds though louder. He flapped his wings and shifted on his perch, still laughing. "CAPTAIN, WE HAVE A JOB FROM THE AUTOBOTS." She called over the ship-wide intercom.

Because honestly, she had no idea where her captain was.

She addressed the turbohawk and the cyberwolf that walked in a moment after she finished her announcement. "Don't get your hopes up," she told them. "It sounds pretty boring."

The cyberwolf gave a yamph that made his kind famous and sat down beside the turbohawk, tail clicking along the tiles. Together, they waited.

Three Earth days later…

Ratchet frowned. A mercenary? Did they truly need one? When he voiced his thoughts, Prowl had frowned.

"This mercenary that Ultra Magnus is sending to us is the best of his kind, and we need the very best to deal with Decepticon Slash." The tactician pointed out.

Ironhide nodded. "She's been a'tearing through our lines like they weren't there. Rackin' up the injured list."

The medic made a face at the reminder. "I remember." He snapped. "If you recall, I just spent two days repairing the twins." Every time he thought of the Lamborghini Twins, he had a pang in his spark. He thought of the Dragon Twins (as he thought of them) instead. He saw their faces superimposed over theirs. Russ, the broody Sunstreaker. Gold – no, Slash – the dangerously charismatic Sideswipe.

Whatever happened to Russ? The bond between them rang hollowly.

As if he could read the medic's thoughts, Jazz cast him a sympathetic look. And Ratchet knew that though Prowl hid it, he was worried about Russet, too. Prowl looked down at his notes. "The mercenary's name is Peril. I've managed to get an ETA from Ultra Magnus. He should arrive in a few days with his crew."

"How many in his crew?" Optimus asked.

"Two, both mechs." Was the prompt reply. "Not much more is known. His ship is a small-sized cruiser called the Shadow Flash. It's not registered as either faction, and reports say that he's shown dislike for discrimination against any faction enough that there have been injuries reported by others who have asked him what faction he belonged to."

The gathered mechs winced. "Are you sure it's wise to bring such a dangerous mech here?" Red Alert demanded. "This mech sounds more like a Decepticon than anything else!"

Prowl inclined his head. "However, Ultra Magnus tells us that he is probably the best out there for all he works when he feels like it and doesn't follow any rules of decorum."

"Fer all he's th' best, he sounds worse than a filthy 'Con." Ironhide muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"Do you have any other data on this mech, Prowl?" Optimus asked, heaving a very human sigh.

The tactician shifted through his notes. "None of the Autobots on Cybertron have seen him, and it's unlikely that any of us have seen this Peril, for he began bounty hunting and mercenary work after we had departed on the Ark. The only data that I have is that he has two scouts with him, one for land and one for the air. Both of which have a difficult time speaking Cybertronian, and usually handle the negotiations between Peril and whoever he's working with." He consulted his notes before plugging the data-pad into the main monitor. A picture of a pitch-black ship appeared on the screen, docked in what they recognized as the Iacon spaceport. Or what was left of it, anyway. "This is his ship, the Shadow Flash. It's a small-sized cruiser, probably around four or five vuns. Top speed is not known."

Jazz nodded. "You're right. I've neva heard o' this mech, Peril, an' if he'd'a been workin' anytime 'fore we left on da Ark, I'd'a heard o' him."

Optimus sighed. "Is that all the data you have, Prowl?"

Prowl looked perturbed but nodded. "All the data I have on Peril is on this data-pad." He said, lifting his notes. "It's not much."

"How did Mags get himself a bounty hunter?" Jazz asked, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully. "Bounty hunters an' mercenaries cost lots ta buy." He explained. "Since now Cybertron's not much in way o' shoppin', there's not much reason ta pay 'im in credits."

"He can get them converted elsewhere," Ratchet pointed out.

Jazz nodded slightly. "Bu' since Energon seems ta be risin' in value 'til i's worth more'n regular credits."

Optimus frowned beneath his faceplate. "So Ultra Magnus may be paying him with Energon?"

"It would appear so." Jazz nodded. "'Course we could jus' ask 'im when 'e comes."

The door opened and they all jumped. Hound poked his head in with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but there's two mechs out here askin' ta see Prime."

The command crew traded glances. At last, Prime stood and with Prowl flanking him as usual, they walked out the door. Prowl paused in the doorway, flicking his door-wings as he turned around. "Meeting adjourned." He said, freeing the rest of the crew in the meeting room from the strange silence that froze them in their tracks. Then he turned and resumed following Prime to the entrance of the crashed Ark.

Curiously, Jazz, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Red Alert followed them out, the last worrying about a possible Decepticon attack. Instead they found Hound and Bluestreak outside, the grey Datsun talking animatedly to a pair of strange mechs.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Optimus asked politely, drawing the attention of the strange mechs.

The larger one was covered in long grey fur not unlike an Earth husky with cerulean spots along his abdominal and back armor. His optics were bright gold, holding an interested if not feral glare to them.

The one beside him was smaller, perhaps just barely taller than Bumblebee, the top of his head level with the other's mouth. His colors, in sharp contrast to that of the other mech's, were bright scarlet and orange, reminding the Autobots of a branch of fire. Also in contrast, he was covered in feathers, with two wing-like struts folded along his spine with a fan of long, avian tail-feathers trailing behind him like a skirt. Bright blue optics bored into them with the intense glare of a hawk.

While the first mech looked strong and solid, the second appeared almost willowy, almost feminine. Both had clawed digits and the Autobot Commander and his tactician noticed that they wore the pelts of Cybertronian animals, the grey one bearing the speckled hide of a cyberwolf and the red and orange one bearing the dangerously beautiful plumage of a turbohawk.

"Ah, sir!" the gunner said, spinning around in an impressive move, saluting him smartly as Hound did likewise. "I didn't hear you coming."

Prowl nodded to Bluestreak. "At ease, Bluestreak. Hound."

The grey mech regarded them almost thoughtfully, his avian counterpart lowering into a wary half-crouch. "Yes," he said carefully as if he wasn't entirely confident with his use of English. "I have requested an audience with you, I believe. You are Optimus Prime Zilka, correct?"

"Permission to speak, sir." Bluestreak said, nearly wiggling in his eagerness.

The Autobot Commander nodded, startled. "Granted."

Bluestreak stepped forward, moving to stand beside the wary avian mech. "Zilka is an honorific," he explained. "It means that…er…he's recognizing you as an authority figure. They're having a bit of trouble speaking English."

"You know them?" Prowl asked, door-wings shifting upward slightly.

The avian mech's optics immediately zeroed in on the movement like a hawk. Bluestreak murmured something to him and he gave a whistling snort. "Yes. I was raised with them. This here is…well, his name translated would be Firebird. The other is Jumper." He pointed first to the avian mech then the grey one.

"The Karzenmalank has asked us to…mm… visit you." Jumper said, casting a glance at Bluestreak.

Firebird shifted, clenching and unclenching his clawed fists. He seemed to a nervous creature, optical lenses flashing from mech to mech. Then the femme-like mech spoke in a voice that was musical (if a bit clumsy). It also sounded a bit feminine. "We were sent by Peril Zilka to speak to you," he clarified.

The Autobots blinked at each other as Bluestreak chatted with grey Jumper. "Jumper says that the Cybertron Autobot Commander – it's Ultra Magnus, right? – assumed they were on Cybertron when he hired them for a job when they were actually halfway between Earth and Cybertron." The gunner said. "He says that's why it seems that they came early." He told the gathered Autobots.

"I'm sure they could have told us that on their own," Prowl frowned.

Firebird and Jumper traded glances while Bluestreak shook his head. "They don't know the English names for 'Cybertron,' 'Earth,' or 'Autobot.' That's why Jumper was talking to me." he said cheerfully. "And Jumper says that they have a hard time speaking either English or Cybertronian."

The avian mech Firebird made a peculiar whistling noise. "We did not have enough time to learn a lot." He admitted. "Idvikan Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak has taught us…a little, but we still do not know a lot."

Optimus turned to Bluestreak, raising a brow ridge. "Idvikan is an honorific term for a ship or cruiser." The gunner explained quickly. "Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak is the name of the ship. Translated, it means…" he paused, thinking. "Well, I guess it could be A Flash of Shadow. Fully translated, it would mean The Ship Named A Flash of Shadow."

"Shadow Flash." Prowl murmured.

Bluestreak nodded. "It could mean that too. The names in this language are difficult to translate because they could mean so many things. Translated in a literal sense, Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak would mean "The-Quick/Flash-Movement-of-One-Hidden-in-or-Related-to-the-Shadows. Shortening it becomes difficult and I'm not that good at translating names. Other words I'm pretty okay at, I think, but names aren't my strong point." Something dawned on him and the gunner looked mildly scandalized. "I'm sorry! I didn't introduce you guys."

Jumper gave a low yahnkyank sound in amusement. "Ah. That is the Kanxelarngya we knew once."

Optimus frowned. "Let's go inside. It is much too open out here."

Firebird shifted, glancing at Bluestreak. The gunner, chatting in their language, grabbed both wrists and led them in. "What language is that?" Ratchet asked, walking beside the two mechs.

"The language of Kalin," Firebird said simply.

Jumper growled, a low, dangerous sound at the mention of Kalin. Bluestreak looked from mech to mech, startled. "There is no need of secrets, Kanxelarngya." He said in an angry voice. The smile that had been stretched across his face had disappeared. "Kalin is no more."

Prowl, who had been walking on the other side caught Bluestreak as he stumbled backwards. "Bluestreak, are you all right?"

The gunner didn't answer, instead choosing to speak in the language of Kalin, voice sharp.

Firebird and Jumper's expression turned stormy. Firebird told Bluestreak something and the gunner's door-wings drooped lower than anyone had ever seen them. The two strange mechs exchanged sad glances. "He is sad." Jumper said simply.

"We have a job," Firebird said. "Talk is for later."

Optimus turned, gesturing to the open conference room. "I think Bluestreak needs to be with us," he said reluctantly. "We may need a translator."

Prowl looked down at the gunner. "Will you be all right?"

At last the youngest of the group nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine." He gave a shaky smile. "Let's go."

"We received a transmission from Ultra Magnus roughly one ship-day ago, requesting the Captain's participation in a job." Bluestreak said, translating directly what Firebird said. The mech held up a data-cube. "This contains the exact message as recorded by Idvikan Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak, our ship. The Captain sent us ahead to settle a few…ah…logistical issues that you might have."

"We were curious about payment." Prowl said. "Bounty hunters and mercenaries cost a lot of money, something we don't have a lot of."

Jumper gave a feral grin. "We don't like Decepticons." He said as Bluestreak translated. "Normally the Captain charges three or four times what we charge Ultra Magnus for our hunts, but since we're hunting Decepticons rather than neutrals or other species, we charge only the energy we need to continue the hunt."

Firebird drummed his fingers in the table. He was a nervous creature, they had quickly learned. "The Captain hates Seekers and fliers more than Decepticons." He added.

"That's good," Ratchet said gruffly. "We've been having a problem with a Decepticon flier."

Jumper glanced at the picture of the Decepticon in question and turned away, uninterestedly. Firebird frowned at it, leaning closer. The grey mech murmured something to Firebird who shrugged and replied in kind. Bluestreak didn't translate that.

Then Jumper grinned. "Sounds like fun."

"I did not know," Bluestreak whispered, staring into his cube of Energon as if wishing he could drown his sorrows in it.

Firebird made a sympathetic sound and hooked his taloned hands over his baenvarna's wrist. "How could you have known when you were not with us and had no contact with Kalin?"

"So…everyone…?"

"They are all dead save for a few that the Captain managed to save." Jumper said bitterly. "And even then it was close: we all ended up kidnapping them so that they would leave. Because of that, Bird-of-Fire and I are no longer able to claim that we are of Kalin."

Bluestreak looked distraught. "They did that?"

Jumper shook his head. "It does not matter anymore. Kalin does not exist. The survivors were taken to a nearby planet similar to Kalin. Even if the Elders on the ship bade us to never return to the Pack, we would not leave. We have already found another Pack. Just as you have."

"Blue?" the gunner looked at Jazz, startled. "You all right?"

Bluestreak sniffed. "They're telling me about how Kalin fell. They say that there's only a few survivors left and that they were exiled because they tried to save the others."

Prowl frowned. "Why?"

"They didn't believe them when they were told that the planet was being attacked," he said miserably. "No one attacked Kalin because they had no contact with any other races other than Russet and Flitter. They simply had no reason to believe Jumper and Firebird because they were already outcasts for befriending Russet and Flitter. They said that the only way they could save people was to kidnap them and throw them bodily on the ship. The Elders blamed them for the attack and exiled them."

"You remember what One-Who-Is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves told you? About how we must not tell anyone about the existence of Kalin?" Firebird asked quietly. "Someone had found Kalin despite all our work to hide its existence. One-Who-Is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves hunted down people who knew of its existence and killed them, hoping to keep them from spreading the word. But she could not patrol the entire planet alone."

Jumper made a low, angry sound. "The fugitives we caught? They were prisoners of war, sent to live out their lives on an 'abandoned' world. Somehow, according to One-Who-Is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves, they managed to contact the rest of their brethren and bring them to Kalin. That is why she was always so worried when we hunted the fugitives."

"They were the Ones-Who-Were-Great-Deceivers. They killed the Packs one by one and by the time that One-Who-Is-Like-the-Autumn-Leaves found out, they had taken over a quarter of the planet." Firebird said in a low voice. "We all worked to stop them, but there were too many. So we started evacuation plans. We managed to save five and forty before the Ones-Who-Were-Great-Deceivers realized what we were doing and began to simply kill anyone they came across."

"We managed to rescue the Winded Valley Pack," Jumper said, as if sensing the question before it came. "The casualties were minimal."

"What're they saying, Blue?" Jazz asked quietly.

"Bluestreak," Firebird said gently when the gunner couldn't speak. "Translate directly what I am saying. All right?"

Brokenly, Bluestreak nodded and turned to the two other mechs at the table. Firebird began to speak. "Kalin was a semi-organic planet. Russet had told us to keep its existence a secret because she was worried that the opposing faction on her planet, what you call Cybertron, would hear of it and invade it. However, they had heard of it and were slowly invading it. They inadvertently destroyed the planet and everyone on it except for forty-five survivors."

"How could they destroy an entire planet in such a short amount of time?" Prowl asked.

It was Jumper who answered. "There was a fault line that ran all the way across the planet. A chasm so deep that it was called the Pit of Darkness. Legend told us that it traveled all the way to the center of our world, and it proved to be true. When the…" Bluestreak paused in translating. "Great Deceivers. Deception…Decepticons! The Decepticons were on Kalin!"

Jumper paused and looked at him. He murmured something softly to the gunner, and suddenly the saboteur and tactician felt awkward and out of place, as if intruding on a moment that was best left alone. But Bluestreak took a deep, albeit shaky breath and nodded.

"If enough explosives or explosive material was thrown into these chasms," Bluestreak paused to shudder here. "Theory had it the planet would react in a way that would destroy everything." Jumper hesitated for a long moment. "My…my mate was a geologist that was stationed at the rift. She was the one that warned us that the Decepticons were storing shuttles filled with explosives, weapons, and fuel down in the chasm, thinking it was safe."

Firebird glanced at the other, who they had learned was his brother. "Jumper's mate…she was killed. As were their two pups."

"So this fault was like the San Andreas on steroids?" Jazz asked.

Prowl gave him a pointed glare. "You mentioned Russet. Is she all right?"

The two Kalinmas were silent for a while, tilting their head to the side as if they didn't understand the question. When Bluestreak opened his mouth to translate, Firebird waved him off. Jumper's optics brightened suddenly and he smiled. "The Captain is here." He got to his feet excitedly, dark fur whispering as he moved. "We go?"

The Autobots in turn looked surprised, but Prowl hid it, sending a comm. call to the officers as Jazz assured the Kalinmas that they would be on their way. Firebird's fiery plumage shifted and winked as he stood beside his larger brother, taloned hands opening and closing anxiously.

Firebird shook his head suddenly. "The Captain is coming here." He sounded surprised as the door opened and in walked one of the largest, most terrifying mechs they had ever seen.

He was head and shoulders taller than Prime with broad shoulders and a dangerous golden gaze. Dark red armor, darker than Ironhide's, was accented by the orange tiles around him, as were the dark grey and bronze-gold armor fittings that adorned his massive body. In his hand he held a large sack, its contents clinking in a low but awful racket.

The Autobots stumbled backwards as a wave of fear and intimidating force, almost tangible, washed over them as if heralding this massive mech's presence. "Can I help you?"

The mech straightened fully, lowering the ominous sack as he gazed down at them, a feral glint in his emotionless optics. "I believe the question is," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Can I help you?"

If any of the three Autobots in the room had thought of what a man-eating tiger would sound like if it talked, they would have concluded that this mech would sound just like it. Jumper grinned broadly and spoke to him quickly while his brother and the mech listened with rapt attention.

"Blue?" Jazz asked, looking at the gunner who shook his head.

"They're not speaking Kalin," he replied. "I don't know what they're speaking."

The mech looked back at them almost thoughtfully. "They say that you've been very helpful." He grunted, moving away from the door with the steely grace of a massive predator. "And that you should've contacted your command staff by now. When can we expect them so I know when I can leave?"

"They're in a conference room across the hall," Prowl managed, eyeing the size of the mech and the thickness of his dark armor. "Who are you, may I ask?"

A fanged grin. "Captain Peril of Cruiser Shadow Flash. Hired by Cybertron Autobot Commander Ultra Magnus to come down to Earth and have a nice little chat with the Autobots on Earth about your pest problem."

The Autobots were floored for a long moment, staring up at the mech before they got over it. "Yeah, sure. This way." Jazz managed, walking carefully past the mech and practically darting out the room to key in the access code for the next door.

With a low, predatory chuckle, Peril lifted his ominous sack and followed. His armor gave him the appearance of a dark shadow against the garishly bright orange tile as he stalked across the hall after Jazz. The surprise of seeing such a fearsome mech enter the room was almost predictable: mechs leapt to their feet, blasters dragged out of subspace to be pointed at the newcomer.

The mech gave another dangerously fanged grin. "Let me introduce myself," he purred, voice full of something bordering on the edge of malice but not quite there yet. It was a sound that one would expect from a panther about to pounce on his wounded prey. "Again."

"Russ!" Ratchet whispered and the mech gave no sign that he heard.

"I am Captain Peril of Cruiser Shadow Flash." He continued as if he had not been interrupted.

At once there was a lot of shuffling, more than one gun shoved back into subspace. Optimus didn't seem to know what to say to the large mech standing in the doorway. "Ah…" he tried first then forced himself to take a deep breath. "Welcome to Earth, Captain." He managed at last.

Ironhide and Wheeljack caught Ratchet's wrists as he tried to move toward the mech. :I don't think that's Russet, Ratch.: Wheeljack said quietly.

Firebird's sharp optics zeroed in on them curiously, noticing the small scuffle. If Peril noticed, he gave no sign. :I've gotta agree wit' 'Jack, Ratch.: Ironhide agreed. :Somethin's not right, y'know?: Near the door, Jazz and Prowl seemed to have come to the same conclusions.

Peril gave another feral grin and the medic realized that his friends were right: this most definitely wasn't Russet. But what were the odds that there was another femme that looked exactly like his friend – that wasn't her twin – out there? What were the chances that there was a mech that looked exactly like her?

"Thank you," he purred, moving to the edge of the table as everyone hurried to sit down. Firebird and Jumper traded amused glances, not bothering to hide them.

"May I ask what you have in the bag?" Red Alert asked, managing to keep the waver from his voice. He sat the closest to the mercenary-mech, getting a very good view of the spines on his hips and shoulders and the curved blades on his forearms.

"My resume." Peril said in that deadly way of his, lifting the sack and dropping it on the table. The bag opened with the motion, causing large circular pieces of metal to tumble out.

Ratchet was on his feet in a second, Jack a beat after. If they were human, they would've blanched, but as it were, they stumbled backwards in shock. Ironhide gaped at it, and Optimus turned to this CMO and Chief Engineer. "Ratchet?" he asked slowly.

Peril lifted one and spun it in his claws almost teasingly at ease. "They're spark chambers." He said, optics glinting. "Recent jobs, not the ones I used to do." He wrinkled his nose. "Had more fun back then."

For a long moment the command staff was silent, optics staring down at the piles of spark chambers. One by one they counted, lips forming the numbers silently as they fought hard – and lost badly – to deny the sight before them.

"Who…"

"Hired me?" Peril asked with dark ease. "Decepticons mostly. They usually want their targets dead. On occasion they'll have me bring them back alive." He wrinkled his nose again. "You don't have to worry. I don't hunt no stinkin' Autobots. Only deserters and major political leaders."

"That's so much better." Ratchet snapped without thinking.

To their surprise, Peril threw his head back and laughed. Surreptitiously Ironhide raised a finger and rotated it on the side of his head. Optimus grimaced behind his mask and nodded slightly, barely a twitch of his head. "I suppose it is not," the mercenary agreed, optics alight with dark humor. "But it apparently makes you much more at ease for you're much more comfortable. Comfortable enough to insinuate that I am crazy." Ironhide shrank beneath his glare, feeling small beneath the gaze of this enormous mech. "But of course, in your place, I would that that I was crazy too."

"What sort of work did you do for Magnus?" Jazz asked, edging around the large mech. "An' how'd you get t' workin' wit' the Autobots if you're working wit' th' 'Cons?"

Peril gave a sharp, dangerous grin. "I got bored of killing," he said almost wistfully. "Found a contingent of Autobots one day with severe injuries, took 'em back t' their HQ. Ultra Magnus hired me t' be a captain for a while, then decided that Firebird and Jumper shouldn't be wasted and had us hunting soon enough."

"Rrules werre no killls." Jumper piped up. Though he seemed to have a much more difficult time speaking than his brother or Peril, his meaning was clear. Firebird just nodded.

The captain spun the spark chamber in his clawed hand, and Ratchet couldn't help but focus his optics on a thin, nearly invisible scar that ran down the inside of Peril's left optic and across the plane of his cheek before curving along the line of his jaw. "We got paid double if we could bring back a Decepticon alive to the base. Of course, it couldn't be just any 'Con: they had to be worth the effort to detain and question."

"Of course," Prime nodded awkwardly. Peril grinned.

"Ultra Magnus just sent us down here," he pointed out. "Gave us data on the local languages and coordinates of where to find you, but not exactly what we're supposed to do." He motioned to the avian mech behind him. "Firebird told me that you are having trouble with a Decepticon flier, but judging by your looks, you don't want me to kill her."

"Perhaps we can set up something similar to what you've done with Ultra Magnus," Optimus suggested.

Peril inclined his head. "That would be nice. However," they shivered, tensely waiting for him to continue. "I would like to know the names of my employers before I really do anything."

The Autobots looked sheepish and Jumper made the yahnkyahnk sound of his laughter. Nor did the krrrkrrr sound his brother made reassure the gathered command staff.

The language of Kalin is beginning to sound a lot like Filippino. The bus I used to catch to school used to have a lot of Filippinos (I don't mean to be racist!) so I kind of know what it sounds like. I used to like to listen to them talk in Tagalish (a mixture of Tagalog and English). You'd hear "Tagalog-Tagalog-Tagalog-All right. Tagalog-Tagalog. No, I don't-Tagalog."

Anyway:

-Zilka : as mentioned before, it's the honorific for a Kalin Elder. In Kalin culture, if someone from another Pack (like Jumper) called an Elder from another Pack (like Optimus) -Zilka, it would be like calling another country's king/monarch "Your Majesty." You're not professing your loyalty; rather, it's more like you're recognizing them as a leader-figure.

Karzenmalank : it's an honorific for the Captain, usually the Captain of a sea-faring vessel on Kalin. However, as the only star-faring vessel the Kalinmas knew of was Russet's, they didn't develop any other word for it.

Idvikan : the Kalin word for ship or cruiser. As with Karzenmalank, it was originally intended for sleek, small-sized vessels of the sea-faring variety.

Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak : The name of a ship. Fully, it would be Idvikan Avarkhamalakhel Sundabiyandak. As Bluestreak says, translated literally it would mean The Small Cruiser Named The-Quick/Flashy-Movement-of-One-Hidden-in-or-Related-to-the-Shadows). Translated into "normal" speech, it would just be Shadow Flash, the name of the ship.

Narzenim's race doesn't live quite as long as Cybertronians, but they do live a whole lot longer than humans.