(Author's note: Please excuse the lack of company designated vehicles. I didn't want to make everyone from the GM car line, but only time will tell which other car companies will get involved for the sequel(s))
Reunions - Part Two
Ratchet rolled to the edge of the junkyard, scanning a dirt cloud approaching from the west. He was parked on one of the platforms that lowered into the base, disguised by strategically placed junk. On a word from the Secretary of Defense, the governor had granted the Autobots permission to build a base there -- providing they could keep it hidden and were absolutely sure no one would stumble upon it by accident. They assured him that their bases were always in disguise.
The base also had a misdirection field, but that was a secret.
Ratchet patched into the communications system, broadcasting to the entire underground facility. "Ironhide has returned. With company." He scanned both the truck and SUV as they came within range. He detected anomalies in the Topkick.
Optimus Prime replied back with a wary tone, "What kind of company?"
"A blue-gray Chevrolet HHR with our symbol in the right corner of its front bumper. It appears that at least one of the meteors that went his way turned out to be one of ours."
Another, up-tight sounding voice said, "It is about time he came back. That was two days ago! Much longer than his mission to Captain Lennox's dwelling should have taken!"
"He might have been injured," Ratchet said sharply. "A possible explanation for why he did not respond to our attempts to contact him."
"We shoulda just gone out to see for ourselves," said someone else, more laid-back than the first voice. Ratchet caught a strain of music before the comm closed.
"Optimus," the medic spoke up before anyone else put in their two cents, "Shall I go out to meet them?"
"Yes. I will be up in a moment."
"Yes, sir. Ratchet out." Before pulling out, he made sure no humans were nearby. He suppressed the urge to run his lights and siren as he drove down the dirt road and turned west.
The black Topkick slowed abruptly, the HHR almost bumping into it. Ironhide grumbled in annoyance. "Why did it have to be Ratchet on perimeter duty?" A giggle came from the other vehicle.
The ambulance honked as it stopped in front of them, just to be cheeky. A holographic driver in an EMT uniform leaned out the window. "Well now, what have you been up to all this time? I tried to call."
Ironhide's driver leaned out, looking his surliest. "Had to exterminate a very persistent rodent."
Ratchet sobered, knowing he wasn't talking about chihuahuas. He immediately assessed damages, taking in Ironhide's missing grill and half-front bumper. He backed up and turned toward the junkyard, now running his lights. The other two followed without another word.
The guard on duty saw the lights and hit the button for the garage door on the south entrance. There were several ways to get into the base, the garage being the most direct to the repair bay. Ratchet drove into the tunnel, closely followed by Ironhide and his guest. When he reached the door to the bay, Ratchet transformed and looked expectantly at Ironhide, who stopped, not transforming yet. Ratchet saw and then grabbed his missing parts from the truck's bed, then walked into the bay. He heard the sounding of transforming in stereo, then the other two Autobots came in. He glanced back to see a pained-looking Ironhide holding a hand to the damaged side of his chest. Behind him was--
"Chromia!" Ratchet hoped he hadn't sounded overly enthusiastic, as if he wanted to hug her -- which he did, out of gratitude for seeing her alive.
"Yes, I am." She smiled. "Now fix him."
"Yes, ma'am." Ratchet snapped off a salute with his free hand, then turned to Ironhide.
A few minutes into the diagnostic check Optimus walked in, blinking when he saw who had accompanied Ironhide. "Chromia, it is good to see you again."
"Sir." She saluted with more sincerity than Ratchet had shown earlier.
Optimus motioned for her to come with him into the hallway. She patted Ironhide's shoulder then followed. They walked a little ways down the corridor before Optimus spoke again. "You came to Earth alone, aside from your presumed quarry. Is there a reason you did not link up with the four-mech team that had been ahead of you?"
"Catching up to Ratbat was deemed more important. I discovered his orders to capture one of your native allies, so I pursued."
"Orders? Who was he working for?" Optimus lowered his head, not liking where the answers could lead.
"Was and still is, sir," Chromia replied gravely.
Optimus jerked his head up. "Still is? You mean he reported in here?"
"I believe so."
Optimus rubbed at his right optic lense. "I have an idea who he reported to. We can only hope the rest of his personal army is still scattered."
"I followed Ratbat to four different planets. Not once did he link up with any of his brethren, and I did not intercept any messages for them."
"I am sorry, Chromia, but that does not mean much. He operates on so many levels that there is little anyone can do to keep up. However, we might have an edge. I will let Ratchet tell you about that. And I now ask you to file a report once Ironhide is back on his feet so I can get all of the details from both of you."
"Certainly, sir." She saluted again. "Thank you."
He clasped her raised hand and brought it down to waist level. "We are not standing on too much ceremony here for now. I may be at the top of command, but I want this place to represent friendship rather than a military organization."
A smiled formed on her face. "Optimus." He nodded, and she headed back to the bay.
Ratchet had Ironhide in vehicle mode on a work table so he could reattach his grill. Chromia slipped behind him and watched from beside his shoulder. "Taking notes?" he asked.
"I probably should, shouldn't I? What with the way he keeps falling apart." Chromia shot a conspiratorial look at the medic.
Ironhide growled. "Ratbat ripped it off. I am NOT falling apart!"
Chromia put her hands on her hips. "Can it, you old grouch. One day you will admit it."
"Wait -- hold it --" Ratchet threw out his hands as if to physically stop their words. "Ratbat?? What is he doing here?"
Chromia patted his shoulder. "The same thing any Decepticon who appears here will be doing: bedeviling our attempts to live a peaceful life."
Ratchet scowled, huffing air out of his upper vents. "Well, at least we have enough numbers on our side now to start hunting them down."
"You have become bitter." She patted his shoulder again.
"Yes, well, I am rather tired of those pests and would have liked a longer reprieve from them. It would figure that they would find someone else to rally around, and if Ratbat is an indication..."
"Prime said we might have a way to combat that particular threat."
"Mm-hmm." Ratchet suddenly put all his focus back on Ironhide's repairs. Chromia watched him, curious at the abrupt disinterest but she didn't try to drop other hints. She meandered away to look at the various things laying around the bay. It appeared that Ratchet had salvaged a lot of random parts from the junkyard itself, restoring anything that could still be used and even some things whose value was extremely questionable.
Without looking up, Ratchet called out, "Please do not touch anything."
Chromia snatched her hand back from a coffee pot she had been about to inspect. She glanced over the shelves one more time, then wandered over to the other work benches. Ratchet made adjustments to the half-bumper, next addressing the Topkick. "So, Ratbat attacked you while you were in vehicle mode because you dragged Lennox along."
Ironhide didn't respond, already knowing he had endangered the human. He had discussed the matter with Chromia and that was the only discussion he wanted to have about it.
"You should have listened to me," Ratchet went on, lifting the front of the truck to check the bottom of the bumper.
"Hn."
Ratchet sighed as he set the Topkick down on four wheels again. "All done. Mind those two spots for the next hour or so. Try to stay in one mode, too."
"I can switch now, right?"
"Yes." Ratchet watched critically as Ironhide carefully shifted into robot mode. He nodded. "Looks fine. I am sure Optimus wants a report so you should probably get to it."
"Hn." Ironhide shrugged and walked over to Chromia, exchanging a few quiet words. Ratchet made an odd gesture that neither of them noticed. The cue taken, loud rock music began playing from the top of one of the shelves. Ironhide and Chromia looked up in confusion. "Ratch, what the heck is that supposed to be?"
The medic smirked. "Not what. Who."
A grey and silver mech, sporting some red that blurred as he moved, tumbled off the shelf to their left, still emitting music as he flipped and landed cleanly on two feet. He was shorter than the average human and just kept moving in a dance-like pattern as he greeted them. " 'Sup, cats?"
"Do not mind him," Ratchet chuckled. "He has been absorbing Earth music and slang since the moment he made landfall."
"Went off course an' hit a radio tower. I feel like these tunes're part'a my spark now. Woo!" The small mech spun around and threw his arms out.
Ironhide peered down at him in annoyance. Chromia looked thoughtful, trying to place the voice amidst the strange dialect. "Broadcast?" she guessed. "What happened to you?"
He shut off the music. "Long story, ladybot. I'll tell ya later, though. For now, we should get down an' party ta celebrate another successful landfall!"
Ratchet snorted. "Successful? We almost lost Tracks to that car show."
"Hey, the mech loves his public, what can I tell ya?" Broadcast shrugged. He then spun around and flipped into the air, landing on his hands and lowering his legs as he shifted around, the moves segueing into the change to alternate mode. A very large, yet still portable by human standards, rectangular stereo settled on the ground. He raised his single antennae and let out a squeal-like noise that seemed a derivative of Cybertronian.
Something clattered on the shelves. Chromia fixed Ratchet with an exasperated glare. "Just how much of this stuff is alive?"
"That," Ratchet said, waving one finger, "is a secret."
Two somethings hit the floor, both matte gray as if waiting for polish and paint. They were half the size of Broadcast and twice as fast. They dashed around Ironhide, one smacking the back of his foot. "Tag!" said one.
"Tag!" said the other in the same voice as it smacked the same spot.
Ratchet laughed at Ironhide's further look of irritation. "Meet Rhythm and Blues. I made them yesterday from some of what I salvaged from Jazz. They do not have sparks of their own. Broadcast can control them by remote signals."
The two mini-mechs sidled up to the stereo and transformed into a pair of extra speakers. "Sweet, huh?" Broadcast asked. "I'm pretty honored, y'know. Didn't get ta chat with Jazz much after our teams split up near Tralaxian IV."
Ironhide's annoyance waned after hearing his words. He couldn't begrudge Broadcast's playfulness when it was meant as a lighthearted homage to Jazz.
Chromia nodded her approval. "I take it they will eventually perform infiltration missions?"
"Pretty much." Broadcast slid and flipped back to robot mode, Rhythm and Blues following suit. "We're workin' on gettin' a visual an' audio link between them an' me so I can see an' hear through them."
"So that is our edge," Chromia murmured, one hand clasping her chin. "It appears we are headed toward having the advantage."
Broadcast grinned and gave her a thumb's up. Rhythm and Blues imitated him with their four-fingered hands. Ironhide noticed that their head designs even looked like Jazz's, complete with visors over their optics.
Chromia studied Broadcast for a moment, still wondering about the downsize, then asked of anyone who might answer, "Who else landed the other night? Actually, I should ask who all of the current residents are."
"Broadcast and Tracks, obviously," Ratchet answered. "I am no longer the only one with engineering tendencies -- some of that stuff belongs to Perceptor." He gestured to the shelves. "And some of it belongs to Rattlelatch."
Ironhide snorted. "A music enthusiast, a vainglorious warrior, a mech who knows every extensive word in the galaxy, and a thief. Yeah, we're shaping up great."
"Don't be so hard on 'Latch, man," Broadcast said. "He's been through a buncha stuff an' his habits saved us on a lotta occasions."
"Just as long as he sticks with reforming for good. We might tolerate it but the humans will not." Ironhide had caught Rattlelatch in the act many a time back on Cybertron. He knew the mech had a good spark, but he also had an irrepressible attraction to tinkering with bits of technology, especially when it did not belong to him.
"As I said, man, don't be so hard on him." Broadcast shook his head. "But I guess ya had t'be there."
"Anyway," Ratchet interrupted. "The rest of our current roster includes Windcharger, Gears, Arcee, Huffer, Moonracer, and Trailbreaker."
Ironhide ticked off the names on his fingers, adding in the surviving members of his own team. "Going to need another base soon."
Ratchet smirked. "Not until we start to get on each other's nerves."
"Ha," Chromia scoffed. "Between Huffer, Gears, Tracks, and him, it will not take long." She gestured to Ironhide as she spoke.
"There are already shifts in place to avoid most of that." Ratchet motioned to Broadcast, who scampered over with Rhythm and Blues following, all three jumping from a bench to the work table. "Why don't you two go make your reports then put in recharge time?"
"Sounds like a good idea to me," Chromia said. She took Ironhide's hand and lead him out of the repair bay. She halted five steps down the corridor. "You lead."
He chuckled and carefully transformed, but then sped off. She transformed and followed, blaring her horn. Back in the bay, Ratchet tilted his head at the noise. "Ah, young love."
"What you talkin' 'bout, 'young'? Broadcast cried. "Those two're as ancient as ancient gets!"
"So am I. Now be quiet before these old hands accidentally miss and sever your vocalizer cords."
Up in the garage entrance Optimus Prime was having a final word with a small, olive green off road 4x4 and a maroon sedan. They confirmed their mission orders and headed out on a six hour trip that would retrace the path of the two recently arrived heavy weights.
Ironhide eventually lead Chromia to the second level of the base -- after a near-collision with Tracks that left the Chevy Z06 Corvette ranting away at them. The level resembled nothing so much as a parking lot. A mint green sedan was parked by the east wall, near a partition to another area.
Chromia opened a private line to Ironhide. "Very nice. You boys have done pretty well here."
"Eh...It isn't really much."
"It is better than trying to recharge on the fly. Or crammed into a shuttle."
"I agree, but I am adapted to those solutions." He pulled into a spot right in the middle, sinking down on his axles. Chromia parked next to him and let out a content sigh. In a few minutes both had settled into a peaceful recharge.
Some six hours later a maroon sedan approached the driveway to a home on a hill. It was getting late in the evening but there was hope of catching the attention of the residents. An olive green off road 4x4 pulled up behind the sedan and immediately began to grumble about the chill in the air. The sedan whispered, "Gears! Do not start again! I told you I am not interested in listening to you complain! I am trying to think how to alert them."
"What is there to think about?" The smaller vehicle honked his horn, once in a short burst, then a second, longer one.
The sedan sighed.
A few moments later the front porchlight came on and a male figure appeared in the doorway. Gears honked again. The sedan hissed for him to stop. The 4x4 drove forward and bumped into him as an answer. Another sigh was emitted.
Lennox stepped outside and walked down the front path. "Are you boys done disturbing the neighbors? I don't believe we've met but I think I have an idea who you are." He stopped at the front of the sedan and placed his hand over the Autobot emblem beside the car manufacturer's logo.
"I apologize for my companion, Captain Lennox. I am Windcharger, this is Gears. Optimus Prime has sent us to guard you."
"Guard me?" Will raised an eyebrow.
"He concluded from Ironhide's damage and proximity to you that you were at risk. We do need to hear your account of events, if you would oblige."
"Um, can this wait until morning? It's going to take a while to explain, and I'd like to sleep tonight."
Gears began to grumble, but Windcharger quickly said, "That would be fine. We could use a recharge. Right, Gears?"
"Meh," was the reply.
Lennox chuckled. "Thank you. And it's nice to meet you."
"It's... nice to meet you, as well," Windcharger tried out the contraction. Humans talked so strangely. Although, he knew he had to get used to it with Broadcast around now to coordinate communications. The language that mech picked up...
Speaking of which, he needed to confirm their arrival. He opened a line to the Autobot base. "This is Windcharger reporting in. We have made contact with the Captain. Duties scheduled to begin in the morning."
"This is Autobase One, Perceptor speaking."
If it is not one mech I cannot understand, it is another. Windcharger sighed to himself. "All clear at the moment. Thank you for acknowledging." He hoped Perceptor would not have any additional orders to pass along.
A green compact car traveling close to the speed limit made a turn onto a suburban street, moving smoothly around a parked plumber's van and avoiding a garbage can that had been knocked over. A hot pink motorcycle followed, its female rider wearing a full bodysuit and matching helmet. The small car took a left, skidding slightly.
A female voice came across the car's radio. "Take it easy, Rattlelatch. It will be difficult to explain if the local authorities arrest you."
"Relax, Arcee. I know the limits. I merely cannot help hitting them -- do you know how good it feels to have clear pavement under your tires?"
"Yes, I do. And I appreciate it enough to go slower than the limits so I do not test the patience of the natives."
The car slowed down as if heeding her advice. He sighed. "Humans and their rules. They cannot even design a roadway correctly!"
"And what would you know about transport architecture?" Arcee asked with good-natured humor.
"The way these access roads are laid out lends no sense of planning! It appears they built it based solely on the land!"
"That is how the humans build things. They do not always have the equipment necessary to clear an area, so they design based on the topography."
His response was a sarcastic, "Ohhh."
"You know, I had a feeling it was too early for you to leave the base."
"No better way to learn than from your own experience!" Rattlelatch shot back cheerfully.
"Yes," she replied dryly, "Do feel free to share some of your experiences."
He slowed down as they entered a street marked with a dead-end sign. Arcee drove past him, her driver glancing at his windshield. He had tinted windows that were difficult to see into, so she didn't know if he even had a holographic driver set up. "Did I get you with that one? To be honest, Rattlelatch, you are treating this planet like it is just a game. We are safe here and while we must accustom ourselves to their culture, this place will eventually feel like home. Try to give it more respect."
Rattlelatch made no response as he followed the curve at the end of the street. He continued on a little slower, then abruptly hit the speed limit again. Arcee sighed to herself, hoping every survivor who came to Earth wasn't going to be reckless. She couldn't remember Rattlelatch as being rebellious. He had been rather meek the last time she had seen him. But she admitted that a lot could change over a few hundred years.
A slate blue, open-bed pick up truck meandered through the junkyard above Autobase One, muttering to itself as it scanned one area after another. The search was on for a certain car part, and if not the part itself, then something that could be modified into it. At times the truck pulled up alongside a pile and extended the single door of its cab toward the pile to obtain better readings. After half an hour of work, the truck transformed into a compact robot who promptly smashed his arm into the top half of the pile he had just scanned, then dug through the revealed layer to pull out a carburetor that had seen better days -- perhaps thirty years back.
He peered at it and grumbled under his vocalization processor, then moved to place it with several other items he had found. He glanced over the mismatched collection, muttered some more, then returned to his search. He also checked his chronometer. Any nanosecond now...
"HUFFER!" the predicted voice called out. "Report in! It is your turn at watch and this sun is fading my paint!" Five minutes passed and the compact mech didn't turn away from his search. At that point a taller mech of blue and dark gray came around the corner, his face the very picture of irritation. "Are you going to wait all day to respond?!"
"Can it, Tracks. You do understand that I am out here for the incredibly difficult task of finding parts that are already half-useless as it is, in order to somehow turn them into something that might function in a way that can serve to repair your sorry hind end next time you get into a fender-bender because you were too busy looking at your reflection in a store front window, do you not?"
Tracks scowled.
"Hmph, that is what I thought. Help me bring this junk to the base, then I will take over for Your Whineness at the watch." Huffer transformed and backed up so his truck bed was exactly next to the pile. "Well, get loading! I cannot move it all by myself and carry it, too!"
"You cannot move any of it yourself," Tracks corrected tersely, but finally bent to place the collected items into the truck's bed.
"Make sure you do not scratch my paint!" Huffer called in a sarcastic tone.
With Ironhide and Chromia present, further miscalculations in the watch schedule would surely be fixed.
In a field near a row of houses, the high grass appeared to part for just an instant. The handful of people walking nearby dismissed it as a rabbit or one of the birds that preferred to hop instead of fly. If anyone had looked closer, they would have either run or froze and prayed the cougar would ignore them for their lack of motion.
Certainly none of them would look close enough to see the creature was covered in camouflaged metal instead of fur and had subtle red pinpricks of light in the middle of its "eyes".
Either way it would have ignored every human except one, who happened to not be present at that moment. He would succeed where Ratbat had failed.
To Be ContinuedTransformers are property of Hasbro/Takara/Dreamworks/etc. Rattlelatch and Rhythm and Blues belong to the author.