A/N Oh yay! Battle setup! This one goes on for a few chapters. I struggle with battle scenes because of course, you want to get the idea that it's complete chaos and stressful, yet still have the reader have a *clue* what's going on.

XXIX

*****

Sideswipe crept along a cut the Russians had told him paralleled a ridge that went straight into the LZ. Flareup rolled behind him wobbling on the knotty roots. He hoped for her sake the LZ was flat. Above him, he heard the whup-whup-whup of rotors. He felt his central line blaze—his favorite feeling. The rush right before an engagement with the enemy. Yeah. This would fix everything. Everything. The Autobots would get new friends, better friends, than the Americans. From what Sides had seen, he really liked the Russians' style. And this would bring everyone back on board. 'Hide would prove himself again, and stop looking so damn mopey; Flareup would work…whatever was eating at her out of her systems. And Prime? He'd finally have time to worry about his men—not the piddly fleshlings. Or better yet, Prime could not worry at all. It'd been too long since Sideswipe had seen the Autobot leader without that crease of worry between his ridgeplates.

He gestured for Flareup to catch up. "Ready?" She nodded grimly. The next rise would take them to the LZ. "You can hang back if you like." He flashed a grin. "I'm hard to keep up with." She managed a tight smile and a slight roll of the eyes. A little of the old Flareup. That was also, Sideswipe decided, an encouraging sign.

He pulled her into a quick hug. "Don't worry, Flare. I got your back." Won't let these 'cons hurt you, he thought. Not again. He pulled away before he could register the disappointment on her face.

*****

Barricade's mission commnet message reached Vortex just as he got lift. Autobot attack. Knew it was going too well. Another few lifts and they'd've had all the energon from this site. Only stuff worth having from this spark-forsaken place. Immediate problem, of course, is that fully loaded, he had a lot of drag, which hampered his maneuverability. And locked him into his vehicle mode.

"Moving," he heard Blackout acknowledge. "Down in a klik."

"Vortex," Starscream said, taking over. "You get clear. You have the most value right now." Long time since Vortex had heard words like those. Time was he'd've teared up at anything that sounded like praise. He knew better now: it was his cargo that had value. Not him.

He acknowledged, grabbing lift only to have his sensor net alarm as he took several hard hits to his starboard side. He grunted across commnet. "They're here." He saw two smaller shapes dash out of the treeline toward him. He clawed for lift, swinging clumsily to bring his main guns to bear. The damn bots moved too fast for his loaded maneuverability. Still, he sent rounds after them to give them second thoughts.

The dronemaster clicked on commnet. Vortex heard the soft mutter as the dronemaster directed the drones en masse up the salient. Weapons fire stitched across the LZ. From the far side of the salient, another bot, red, raced up, trying to launch himself after Vortex. He caught one of Vortex's cargo hooks. Vortex swung awkwardly in midair, one rotor dipping perilously close to the ground, shredding tree trunks. Splinters of wood flew wildly. The drones swung their primary fire on the Autobot clinging to Vortex's underbelly, more than a handful falling as flying splinters cut through their lightly armored bodies.

Vortex got altitude, the Autobot squirming to ready some sort of attack. As he cleared the trees, Vortex cut power to his rotors. He dropped toward the ground, hitting his terminal velocity quickly. Cutting his cargo hook, he blazed his rotors back on, jerking upward with enough force to dislodge the Autobot's grip. He tumbled hard onto the ground and lay, Vortex thought, pleasantly still.

*****

Optimus ordered the humans to stay down. Starscream had used humans as metaphoric shields before—he didn't doubt the jet would hesitate to try the same tactic. The jet considered directly attacking humans to be beneath him, but he knew that Optimus would rather let himself get hit than risk injuring humans. A neat game the jet had played before. He had nearly reached a dashing distance from the jet when Starscream had whirled, eyes wild, and launched himself into the sky. Optimus cursed.

*****

Ironhide headed along the path he'd seen Barricade take. One score he could settle early. A surprise to the others to see Barricade here. A pleasant surprise for Ironhide. First, the mech thought, I'll show him how hard I can hit with my cannons on. Then…well, I'll improvise. Maybe I'll have a little game for him. Like, pick which limb I shoot off next.

"CJ!" Sideswipe's voice. Loud. Ironhide turned, hitting his comm. "Sideswipe. What's up?"

"CJ—copter dropped him. He fell! He's not moving."

"LZ?"

"Yeah."

"Be there." Ironhide cut comm. Looks like he had another grudge to work out on the 'cons. No matter. There was room in his spark for the both of them.

*****

The jet's order cut across mission commnet. "Rally at the LZ. Blackout is coming down empty, unfortunately. He must be allowed to load."

"Load what?" asked the dronemaster. His responsibility to move cargo up. Under fire. Barricade could tell he wasn't looking forward to it. Underarmored and only lightly-armed drones, sent down on a retrieval mission, suddenly turned into hot combat—all the dronemaster's responsibility. Welcome, Barricade thought, to the Decepticon luck. Why we're all such fraggin' optimists.

"Load the drones," the jet said. "Right now we need them more than energon." Barricade felt…stunned. This was the mech who insisted drones were expendable. He wondered what had given the jet a spark of conscience. He hoped it wasn't him. Conscience was a miserable burden. Having one himself—two, really—he knew all about that.

He hustled to the LZ himself, feeling his usual useless. No weapon, even. Should have used his good karma with Megatron to demand that little restriction get lifted. Oh, you like my work? Finally convinced I'm not insane? How 'bout letting me carry a pulse rifle? Megatron, unlike Suvorov's proverbial capitalists, was not ready to put his money where his mouth was.

"Gonna have to hitch with the drones," he said.

"Yes," Starscream acknowledged. "You can assist them to load."

Great. Glorified dronemaster. Knew better than to complain. Waste of vocalizer charge. He raced through the thinly spread trees toward the noise. Ah, he thought, and now I know they've gotten to me. Running into battle unarmed. These warriors have ruined me. He resolved that at least he wouldn't say something heroic about honor and/or glory. This was frag-stupid, and he would not use any other words to describe it.

As he hit the outer edge of the drones advancing up the hill they picked up their pace. Part of their programming—to follow any Decepticon signature. Also part of their programming not to target any Decepticons. Also, his brain fed him through the surge of what he refused to call fear, part of their programming not to disobey a direct order.

Maybe he didn't have to run headlong into certain easy-target status. He grabbed one by the shoulder. "Let me see your weapon."

The drone held it aloft, confused. Frag. Too literal. "Right. Correction, hand me your weapon." The drone followed all the proper safety procedures including clicking the safety on and handing it to him grip-first. If Barricade survived, he was going to write the dronemaster a commendation. If he remembered. And, as Barricade had thought/expected/hoped, basic drone programming did NOT happen to include the directive not to let Barricade have a loaded weapon.

He patted the thing on the head. "You're unarmed. Make it to the copter and climb on. No override." That was as far as his conscience went. The drone turned and dashed off after the others. Barricade hefted the weapon. Standard pulse rifle. Not too spiffy. But easy to operate, reasonably accurate and sturdy as the sides of the Pit. He'd take it. Not like he had a choice.