Author's Note: The Welcome sign for the Diego Garcia restricted area mentioned in this chapter is real – I kid you not. :) Google Earth never lies, right? (However, other descriptions are my invention because, well, it's restricted and no photos are available.) Oh, and I'll be posting a companion fic to this chapter in the next day or two titled "Introductions: Jonathan Ellis." Hope you enjoy both it and this chapter! :)

It was the Saturday morning after Thanksgiving and I waited anxiously beside Samuel as the helicopter landed just outside the base entrance. A corporal from NEST stood at attention by our side – Samuel's aid and our escort on the base. This person we were meeting today, US Senator and Head of the Defense Appropriations Committee Jonathan Ellis, was here because he specifically requested to meet me after I butted heads with Joe Marshall.

As he got off the chopper and walked toward us, I sized him up. On the outside, he wasn't a whole lot different from Marshall – a bespectacled middle-aged white man (though he was in much better shape) in a dark suit with a flag pin. I guess politics has its own uniforms. But his history made him worlds apart. About four years ago, Mr. Ellis and Samuel had been saved from a Decepticon by Bumblebee, and the politician had devoted his career to helping the Autobots ever since.

"Jon," Samuel greeted the man with a warm handshake. "Allow me to introduce Annabelle Lennox."

"Ah yes, the infamous Miss Lennox. It's a pleasure to meet the lamb who routed the lion," he said, taking my hand to shake it. It was a firm, practiced handshake that felt disturbingly fake coming from someone who was supposed to be sympathetic to us.

"Welcome back to Diego Garcia, sir." He had visited once, three years ago, and had been introduced to Optimus Prime, Prowl, and Wheeljack at that time.

Releasing my hand, he chuckled. "What? No insult for me?"

"Not unless you insult me first," I seriously answered. "Autobots are never the aggressors."

He barked out a laugh at that one. "Sam was right – you have a crack-shot wit. Well, Miss Lennox, I'm a Northern boy and I'm melting in this heat."

"Of course, sir. Right this way."

With a nod of approval from Samuel, I led them to the human side of the Autobot headquarters. Butterflies filled my stomach as we entered a conference room. Officially, Mr. Ellis was here for a briefing on the new Autobots, and Samuel and Prowl had spent a good part of yesterday morning coaching me in making a Powerpoint for today. But first, I had to be the gracious hostess. Gesturing toward a basket of fruit, muffins and bagels, I said, "Refreshment, sir? We can get you something to drink, too."

"Looks great," he said. "My last meal was on the flight over, and it wasn't much. Any orange juice?"

I nodded to the corporal, who ducked out.

Peeling the paper off a muffin, Mr. Ellis said, "So tell me about these new guys."

Turning on the projector, I pulled up the Powerpoint. "Their names are Trailbreaker, Hound, Mirage, and Evac."

"All mechs?"

"Yes."

He looked a little relieved. "Proceed."

"They were part of a special ops team prior to arriving here, so they have a few more upgrades than most 'bots." Advancing to the slide with a picture of his base-form and stats, I said, "Trailbreaker was Optimus' defensive strategist on Cybertron, but in battle, he's very valuable because he can produce a virtually impenetrable forcefield." The next slide had a picture of his alt-form – an enormous black armored SUV that would blend in with any government convoy. "On Bumblebee's team, he'll fill a similarly defensive role and will be his second-in-command."

Clicking to the next slide, I continued, "Hound is a tracker – the best the Autobots have – and his specialty is holograms. Every Autobot can produce holoforms, but Hound can produce holograms that are much larger and more elaborate and he has a longer range."

Swallowing his bite of muffin, he asked, "How much longer?"

I bit my lip. "I'm not sure, sir. I can find out for you, though."

"Please do."

I pulled out my cell phone and made a note to myself. Feeling even more nervous, I returned to the presentation, advancing to the slide of Hound in his alt-form. "On Bumblebee's team, he will have a more offensive role."

"What's he like?" Mr. Ellis interrupted.

"Sir?"

"You said he'll be one of Bumblebee's heavy hitters, but they're going to be based in the middle of Washington, D.C. I don't need another Sideswipe or Sunstreaker wreaking havoc – "

"OH! No, sir, he's nothing like the twins. He's…He actually reminds me a lot of Bumblebee, but he's...he's a Jeep, sir. He's a nature-lover who likes to get a little muddy."

"A lot muddy," Samuel corrected, jumping in to help me. "My biggest concern with placing him on the team was that it would be too urban, but 'Bee assures me Hound will enjoy exploring the concrete-and-steel jungle of D.C. He's very personable and, unlike some mechs, doesn't get queasy about our organic nature. He'll be a genuine asset."

Satisfied, Mr. Ellis nodded for me to continue.

Flipping to the slide of his base-form, I said, "Mirage's training is mostly in covert ops. His mission prior to arriving on Earth was to eliminate the Decepticon Shockwave. His upgrade is that he can render himself invisible."

Mr. Ellis let out a low whistle. "Invisible as in a hologram that makes it look like he's not there?"

"No, as in invisible. Or so I've heard. I haven't had a chance to see it yet, personally."

Looking at Samuel, Mr. Ellis eagerly said, "I'm not leaving until I get to see these guys' upgrades in action."

Samuel's answering grin told me he'd be just as eager to see them. "You've got it."

Then to me, he said, "Sorry, Miss Lennox."

"That's fine, sir." The next slide had Mirage's alt-form – a Ford GT10.

Ellis chuckled. "What is it with Autobots and racing stripes?"

"What is it with politicians and suits?" I answered without thinking. Trying to cover my tracks, I said, "They have their own sense of fashion." Blushing furiously, I advanced to the next slide. "Evac is their medic."

"How does he compare to Ratchet?"

Samuel came to my rescue again. "In terms of Cybertronian medicine, he's competent but half Ratchet's age, so he doesn't have anywhere near the experience. Since he's a new arrival on Earth, let's just say I'll still be seeing a human doctor. At least for a while."

Clicking forward through the presentation, I went to Evac's alt-form. "He's also one of the Autobots' few fliers. On Earth, he's taken the alt-form of a Coast Guard helicopter."

"That will definitely be an asset," Mr. Ellis murmured with approval.

"The final member of Bumblebee's squad will be Radio Flyer, who you're already familiar with, I understand."

"Yeah, we've met. The only sane femme on the planet, in my opinion," he easily said. "So we've got the bodyguard, the femme, the forcefield, the Jeep, the invisible one, and the helicopter. That's everyone, right?"

A little stiffly, I corrected, "Their names are Bumblebee, RadioFlyer, Trailbreaker, Hound, Mirage, and Evac. Yes."

He fought a smile and glanced at Samuel. "I see what you mean." To me, he said, "Good girl. Tell 'em off loud and long anytime someone tries to reduce them to tools like that. They have metal bodies, but they're people and you know it. Don't be afraid to say so. That's what Sam does, and we need a few more like him in this world."

I blinked in surprise, my heart swelling a little at his words. "Thank you, sir. I will."

…

After the presentation, I led Mr. Ellis into the Autobot hangar toward the med bay. Ratchet had consented (under duress) to a brief tour of his domain. Naturally, Skids and Mudflap were just leaving as we approached.

"Yo! Firebrand!" Skids hollered in greeting.

"Couldn' get 'nuf a us, huh femme!" Mudflap added.

"Nah," Skids answered, whacking his brother on the shoulder. "She couldn' get 'nuf a me!"

"Guys! GUYS!" I shouted, fortunately catching them early enough in their brawl to distract them. "I'm not here on a social visit."

"Right, femme," Skids continued with a wink. "Yous jes here ta study."

"No, actually…"

But Mudflap was already into it. In his perfect British accent, he quoted, "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?"

I rolled my eyes. "Romeo and Juliet, the balcony scene."

Reverting to his usual way of talking, he demanded, "Line an speakah."

"Fine. Romeo, Act 2, scene 2, line 2. But seriously, guys…"

Placing his hand over his spark, Skids gallantly quoted, "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead."

I sighed, realizing they wouldn't let us go forward or change the topic until they got bored with their little game. "Henry the Fifth, King Henry speaking, Act 3, scene 1, lines 1 and 2."

"Beware the ides of March," Mudflap shot.

"Julius Caesar, the Soothsayer speaking, Act 1, scene 2, line 18. Satisfied?"

"Uh-uh," Skids answered while Mudflap said, "Not yet." With a light that even I recognized as mischief in his optics, Skids quoted, "Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

I smirked at him. "A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 3, scene 2, and the speaker is Puck."

"Ya forgo' da line numbahs," Mudflap scolded.

"Considering we're not studying the comedies and I had to Google the slagging line to find it, you can darn well accept that. Now, you're keeping me and Samuel and Senator – "

"Senatoh!" Mudflap exclaimed, interrupting me. Instantly their demeanor changed from playful to aggressive. Skids leaned in threateningly. "Dis fraggah o' a squishy marchin' yous two 'round?"

"No," I growled back in my pathetically non-threatening-human voice. "He's on our side and I'm taking him to see Ratchet."

Mudflap covered his head with his hands. "Wha' ya doin,' Firebrand? Killin' off da ones wha' is on ah side!"

"Da Hatchet!" Skids shook his head at us mournfully. "Da squishy gonna be off ah side aftah meetin' him!"

I glanced sidelong at the Senator, and he was looking up with wide eyes at the apparently-schizophrenic twins. "Mr. Ellis, allow me to introduce Skids and Mudflap – Scout-class Autobots, twin brothers, and closet linguists. They know at least a half a dozen insults in every language known to man."

Mudflap said something completely unintelligible, and I added, "Don't ask."

Samuel cleared his throat. "Actually, that one was in Cybertronian."

The twins locked their optics on him and froze. Finally Skids asked in an awe-struck whisper, "You speak Cybertronian?"

He snorted. "I've spent enough time with Ironhide over the years to recognize cussing when I heard it. Now come on, Annabelle, Jon. Ratchet is a phenomenal medic, but the twins are right that it's not a good idea to keep him waiting."

Recovering, Mr. Ellis nodded at the 'bots. "It was a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen."

I just about keeled over. In fifteen years of life, I'd heard those two called just about everything under the sun, but not once had anyone called them 'gentlemen.' I guess that was part of the politician lingo, just like slagger and astrosecond were part of the Autobots' way of talking. Everyone is 'gentleman' and 'miss,' even if you're trying to rip their heart out and stomp on it. Maybe I didn't want to be a part of that world, not if it meant I had to call Joe Marshall a gentleman.

...

I knew Ratchet had put up a fuss about letting even a friendly politician into the med bay, but the 'bot was surprisingly pleasant when Mr. Ellis was standing in front of him. Maybe it was because Ellis talked to him like a person and didn't ask any stupid or overly-prying questions. Samuel introduced them, and Ellis thanked Ratchet for making time for him, complimented him on his ability to keep such advanced and battle-worn Autobots functioning so well, and asked if there was anything in particular the Autobot Chief Medical Officer wanted the appropriations committee to consider. And then he listened with apparent interest while Ratchet ranted for the next twenty minutes.

About fifteen minutes in, I finally thought to look away from the energetically lecturing Ratchet and study the politician. At least half of what Ratchet was saying was going over my head, but Jonathan Ellis raptly watched his every gesture and made the occasional encouraging comment or question. I grew up with the 'bots and knew a lot more about them than even some of the NEST soldiers, but I never suspected for a second that Ellis was lost like I was. Either he was an expert listener, or he was far more knowledgeable about the Autobots than I'd have thought possible.

It wasn't until Wheeljack showed up with a damaged Chromia that Ratchet finally cut short his list of wishes and complaints. Mr. Ellis thanked Ratchet again for his time and we beat a hasty retreat as the medic launched into Wheeljack for his stupidity in designing whatever went wrong and into Chromia for her stupidity in testing the malfunction's invention for him. Just before the doors slid closed behind us, Ratchet bellowed, "Let him get his own arm blown off and he'll think twice next time!"

"Not likely," Mr. Ellis muttered, and I grinned. He did know more about the 'bots than he'd let on. That train of thought took a sudden tangent; Samuel hadn't denied that he knew Cybertronian. If I wasn't standing beside one of the better politicians in the US, I wouldn't have thought twice about it, but Samuel had sidestepped that question neatly. In politician-speak, he'd practically admitted it. Samuel knew the 'bots' native language! Wow!

…

"You're kidding," Mr. Ellis said from the seat in front of me. It was late afternoon and we were riding in Bumblebee to the proving grounds with Wheelie beside me. It had taken a little while to get a suitable demonstration planned, approval for the schedule, and everyone up rounded up. Dad was riding with Optimus ahead of us and we had just arrived at the checkpoint.

"What?"

Pointing at the sign beside the road, Mr. Ellis read, "Welcome to the Restricted Area. Gotta love the military – someone not only wrote that with a straight face but posted it alongside the road on an isolated, island naval base."

I sniggered, now that I thought about it.

The checkpoint guards let Optimus pass with a deferential nod, and the rest of our convoy followed – Trailbreaker, Hound, Mirage, RaFly, Ironhide, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Evac had flown ahead.

The proving grounds consisted of a firing range, an urban warfare training area affectionately known as Boom Town, and a versatile open field that could be used for everything from racing to sparring to obstacle courses. The destination for us squishy humans was a shaded observation platform on the edge of the field. Epps, Dad, Mr. Ellis, Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky, Wheelie and I all climbed the cement stairs and sheltered under the pale canvas awning, grateful for the light breeze coming off the ocean. The 'bots drove around to the open field between Boom Town and the firing range and transformed.

Even though I'd seen the 'bots transform probably a dozen times now it was still an awe-inspiring thing, especially when it was so many of them at once.

To Samuel, Optimus said, "So that you will be familiar with them in their alt-forms, I present your warriors: Bumblebee, Trailbreaker, Hound, Mirage, Evac, and Radio Flyer."

They each approached the observation platform in turn, calling him Prime. Bumblebee couldn't, of course, but even I knew Sam didn't need to hear what Bumblebee felt about him. Mirage made a point of formally bowing and saying, "You have my allegiance, Samuel Prime."

RaFly hurried to catch up with the mechs after acknowledging Sam. Dad turned to Mr. Ellis and said, "All of the Autobots' ranged weapons will be set to stun-strength today with the exception of Ironhide during this first demonstration."

"Then what's the point?" Mr. Ellis muttered under his breath, and I smothered my grin of agreement.

Bumblebee's team dropped back into their alt-modes and scattered, beating a hasty retreat into Boom Town. Ironhide strode forward bringing his arms up, his cannons rolling with their menacing hum.

"Fire!" Optimus ordered, and even in broad daylight, the flash was brilliant. Buildings collapsed, exploding away from the blast – all except one. Half of it remained standing, the surviving part intact without even a broken window pane. I could see the yellow of Bumblebee in his base form and a little bit of green that must have been Hound. Mr. Ellis eagerly stepped forward to the safety railing.

"Again!" Prime commanded, and this time we could all see the impact of the weapons' fire on what I realized (after the fact) was Trailbreaker's forcefield. The blast flowed around the protecting globe he had enveloped them in, rippling slightly but otherwise invisible to us humans.

"Nice," Wheelie murmured appreciatively.

Ironhide looked up to Prime, and the Autobot leader nodded once. His battle mask engaged and he unsheathed a wickedly-cool blade of some kind from a compartment in his arm. Striding forward, he raised his sword-arm and viciously sliced down. His arm glanced to the side, sliding away and leaving behind ripples of power in the forcefield.

"Wow!" Mr. Ellis breathed.

Optimus straightened, retracting both the sword and the mask. "Bumblebee. Sideswipe."

Trailbreaker turned off the forcefield. The silver mech skated forward, while Bumblebee almost swaggered into the sparring field, his squad following more slowly. They paused across a small space in front of Optimus, and then, without any apparent signal, Sideswipe lunged at 'Bee. His movements were downright predatory – catlike – but 'Bee dodged him in a neat roll before bringing his own cannons online. His blasts made Sideswipe's shoulders jerk, but didn't stop him as he brought his own swords into play, slicing at 'Bee horizontally and cutting into him from the sound of it. 'Bee spun away from the blow and followed up with a roundhouse kick that Sideswipe deflected with his arm, though I could see the damage that kick caused. Sideswipe swung his blade again at 'Bee, this time vertically, and Bumblebee jumped back once before he flipped forward over Sideswipe, almost landing a blow on the larger mech's back.

They continued this lethal dance for a good five minutes, and I realized that they were showing off Bumblebee's defensive abilities. Sideswipe just couldn't pin him down.

"Disengage," Optimus commanded, and Sideswipe and Bumblebee both took a few steps back. I could see some kind of fluid staining the gashes in Bumblebee's paint, but Evac went to Sideswipe first, working on the arm Bumblebee had dented.

While Evac tended to them, Optimus called, "Mirage. Sunstreaker."

The blue mech strode onto the sparring field, somehow managing to give off an air of boredom, and he and Sunstreaker stood across from each other. Again without any obvious signal, Sunstreaker launched himself forward – at nothing. Literally, Mirage was just gone. Not like a holoform that flickered or like he'd used a cloaking device where you shimmered for a second first. Just…gone.

Sunny froze, tilting his head ever so slightly before he whirled, firing a rifle shot that got lost over in the firing range somewhere. A puff of dust and disturbed sand showed where Mirage had been, but I didn't have the slightest clue where he might be now. Apparently Sunny didn't either; his head swiveled as he searched the ground – probably for Mirage's footprints or something.

Sunstreaker's foot caught on thin air and he staggered to his knees. Snarling, he rolled to his feet. Blades like Sideswipe's slipped forward into his hands and he whirled, slashing at nothing. Again he froze, apparently listening closely, until some sign tipped him off and he lunged again. Something increased his momentum, though, and he jerked forward head-first to face-plant in the sand. Mirage reappeared on the twin's back, pinning him, and he pressed a blade like Optimus' but smaller and more dagger-like against something in Sunstreaker's neck. "Do you yield?" Mirage calmly asked in a voice that easily carried to us.

With one last snarl, Sunstreaker growled, "Yes."

As abruptly as the match began, it was over. Mirage sheathed the blade and stood back, allowing Sunstreaker to rise to his feet again. "Not a scratch," he casually told the twin. "Just like I promised."

Sunstreaker snorted, unimpressed, as the two of them headed toward Sideswipe.

"Radio Flyer," Optimus called, and the femme rolled forward in her alt-form. I wondered who she would spar with; Arcee or Chromia would have been a natural choice but neither of them was here. She transformed and stood almost awkwardly in front of her audience.

Optimus' face mask engaged and his sword rang as he unsheathed it again. RaFly was going up against him?

She took a few steps back, her arms out like she was guarding a basketball player instead of an armed mech three times her size. He thrust his sword-arm forward, and as fast as 'Bee, she dodged, but unlike 'Bee, her movements were less energetic and more deliberate. Graceful almost, she twirled and planted an elbow on Prime's wrist before slipping out of his range. Pressure points, I realized, as Optimus idly rubbed the wrist and sized her up. He kicked at her, then, knee forward so the long, pointed shin armor was aimed right at her head. RaFly rolled forward and under him, catching his foot and yanking hard enough to throw him off balance a little. With a balled fist, he swung again. This time she half-turned and, catching that fist, pulled him forward. He actually staggered and RaFly brought her arm up to his face, her hand transforming into a cannon. I expected her to demand his surrender like Mirage, but instead she fired, the cannon making a hissing sound.

"My optics!" he roared, and beside me, Samuel's shoulders began shaking with laughter. "ARGH! Evac!"

"Sounds vaguely like Megatron," Samuel sniggered.

Jaw on the ground, I asked, "Did she seriously just take down Optimus Prime with pepper spray?"

The bang of a backfire behind us made us all jump, and we turned to see a white station wagon parked on the observation platform. RaFly. I looked from the car to the sparring field where she was standing triumphantly in her alt-form and then back in confusion.

"Hound's special ability is holograms," Dad pointed out, unsuccessfully smothering a grin. "He took some motion recordings of her earlier today."

Meaning this was the real RaFly. How the slag had she got up here without us noticing? She would have had to climbed up and transformed!

Mr. Ellis started laughing. "That's right. Your ability is being as invisible as Mirage – but without the cloak."

She seemed to drop lower on her axels, and sounding embarrassed, she said, "Thanks, but not really. I just take advantage of distractions. And Hound is really good at those."

Still disbelieving, I glanced to where Optimus had finally regained his feet and was walking toward us.

Hearing his name, Hound strode up in his alt-form with Trailbreaker at his side. "Thanks."

Trailbreaker added, "But RaFly provided us with some great footage. And that corrostart in her arm cannon is no joke."

"What's in it?" Epps wondered.

"A solution consisting primarily of hydrofluoric acid and silicon," Prime rumbled, sounding amused. "I've never actually been exposed to it, but I have seen 'cons that took a hit. It's easier to just replace the optic than try to repair it."

Samuel turned to Mr. Ellis. "Well, Jon, are you satisfied? Am I good to bring the new team to D.C. tomorrow night?"

His eyes roamed from RaFly, who was hopping down from the observation platform with Hound's and Trailbreaker's help, to Optimus, to the Vette twins talking with Mirage, Bumblebee, and Evac. "Definitely."