Reunions - Part Seven

Broadcast sat back and listened to Tracks' vehement response to Prime's calmer attempts to reason with him. Optimus had wanted to send the other SkySpy out to confirm Rattlelatch's status. Tracks was revving his engine, already on his way to find a clear stretch of road so he could take off. Prime's thinkin' small again, Broadcast realized with a sigh.

A new signal appeared on the board and he accessed it with the hope it wasn't more trouble. Then he let out a "WOOT!" and interrupted everything. "I just got word from the Ark! We got more 'Bots! Two're wounded, can't make palnetfall on their own, but there's four others in okay condition. Prime, wanna have 'em come in near 'Latch's last coordinates? That'll solve ev'rythin'."

Before Optimus could reply, Ratchet cut in on the group line. "Prime, the second SkySpy is ready. I programmed it to go straight to Rattlelatch's last location and search for his signature from there. Broadcast, tell those mechs on the Ark to use the shuttle in bay number three. They should be able to get it out without decompressing that section of the ship."

"Gotcha, Ratch." The communications officer waited for Prime's response.

Meanwhile, Tracks grumbled, "I could still arrive faster."

Broadcast was surprised to hear Optimus ask, "Ratchet, what do you think?"

"Me?" the medic replied, taken aback. "Ask Arcee. She is a better tactician than I will ever be."

Broadcast automatically added Arcee's frequency to the line, debriefing her on the side as he did so. "Bring them down near Rattlelatch," she responded. "And tell them to keep that shuttle intact. Not only will they need a place to take cover until they can scan an Earth mode, but we can use it to get back to the Ark."

"Agreed," Ratchet said.

Optimus did not reply right away. Broadcast reopened his private line to him. "Boss bot, what's eatin' you? I'm sorry, but we ain't got time to sit an' deliberate."

"I know, Broadcast, I am just...feeling overwhelmed."

The comms officer blinked. "You took on Megatron an' now this is overwhelmin'?"

"Broadcast, please understand. I believed we had dealt the Decepticons a crippling blow. I thought we would have more time before having to worry about them again."

"You were thinkin' good thoughts, Optimus, but this situation was inevitable. Why don'tcha take five an' I'll handle command for a while?" He felt safe hovering one finger over the button that would send the message about the shuttle to the Ark.

"I cannot afford to let my guard down," Prime replied, sighing.

"True, but you ain't gonna do anyone any good if you run down on your feet." Broadcast waited again. When another sigh came over the line, he moved his hand away from the console. "I'm thinkin' it's time to delegate. If this gets anymore spread out, we ain't gonna have a choice anyway."

"I agree." Prime switched to the group line, having decided. "I am going to let Broadcast handle the orders for the bots on the Ark. Now, I still want the SkySpy to confirm Rattlelatch's situation. Ratchet, get it in the air and send its tracking data to Tracks so he can follow its progress and intervene if need be."

A chorus of "Rodgers" answered him, Tracks sounding resentful. Broadcast wasn't surprised when a private line request from the warrior came up. "Broadcast, this is ridiculous. There is no evidence of danger here, and you and I both know Rattlelatch cannot fight well."

"I know, but we gotta get with the program here. Optimus is the main man, now. I'm just the guy at the switchboard, like I used to be. I don't mind it, even though I know we need someone else to call the shots when Optimus ain't up to it."

"So if something goes wrong, Prime is to blame?" Tracks sounded more worried than cold for a change.

"No, it ain't. It'd be all'a ours fault for not cooperatin' more. We all gotta find our places an' work like we used to. This crew's gonna crash if we don't."

There was a long pause, then Tracks said, "You are entirely correct. I have been viewing the smaller scale. I apologize, Broadcast."

"Hey, it ain't me you gotta apologize to. But thanks, bro, 'cuz I'm gonna make this a memo to ev'ryone. You ain't been the only one resistin' change an' it's about time ev'rybody fessed up."

"Good luck, my friend. I will be waiting for the SkySpy's findings. Tracks, out."

Broadcast smiled to himself. Progress already. He tapped the button to send the information to the Ark about the shuttle. He would contact them again when the SkySpy data came in, since it would give better coordinates. There was no telling how close Rattlelatch might be to his last location. He remained just as worried as Tracks was, though.

As he sat back to compose his memo to the rest of the Autobots, he heard a peculiar sound buzz quickly over the lines. He tapped a few keys as the sound faded, making adjustments to trace it and replay it. This time he turned the dials on both sides of his head. He opened a line to all bots on the base. "I'm pickin' up a faint signal. Actually, it's more like a..vibration? Just wanna check if anyone experienced any equipment blips." He adjusted his left-side dial again. "It's somethin' low an'...s-subliminal..."

The entire base seemed to shake as a particularly loud airplane flew by. On the second pass, everyone knew it wasn't just a commercial aircraft.

Arcee reported over the group line, "I have confirmation on an F-18. It is circling to come over us again."

Broadcast brought up all external camera feeds, analyzing all images they had managed to catch of the jet. "'Con insignia confirmed!" He jerked back as the peculiar buzz came again. "Dirge. Dampening all frequencies now!"

Optimus responded immediately with orders. "Arcee, Huffer, begin counterattack. Broadcast, remain where you are. All other Autobots report to the main gate."

There was the sound of a large door rolling shut from down the hall, then Ratchet came huffing into the comms room. "Sequence eight-three-three to trigger the boomer." He then ducked his head, leaning over to show Rhythm and Blues nestled against his back. "Do you want to test run them outside or do you think you will be too occupied?"

Broadcast frowned in thought. "Leave 'em. They ain't ready yet." He directed the pair to jump down. Ratchet straightened then nodded and left, his footsteps pounding on the metal floor as he ran. Broadcast had Rhythm and Blues climb up on the console and punch the buttons he couldn't immediately reach. It made everything go faster to the point where he was keeping ahead of the way Dirge was going through the lines and using his ability to set off subsonic frequencies that triggered certain effects on a mechanoid's system, mainly that which reacted to fear. "Good luck makin' a buncha 'fraidybots outta us!" Broadcast muttered.

"Yeah!" Rhythm and Blues said in unison.

Outside, Arcee had positioned everyone to cover Dirge regardless of the direction he flew. Huffer, Moonracer, and Arcee herself formed a triangle with Optimus to the northeast and Ratchet to the southeast. Perceptor was stationed by the garage entrance at Ratchet's request. Optimus knew this tactic wasn't going to help them keep the base secret, but they had to take the Decepticon down before he decided to threaten the humans. The ones in the near vicinity couldn't possibly have been spared the noise of the jet. As Optimus lined up another shot he took a mental tally of the reported Decepticons. Ratbat, Ravage, Squawktalk, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, and Dirge. It is obvious Soundwave is directing them. Yet how many others could be following him?

Dirge looped upward suddenly, evading their shots and quickly disappearing amongst the clouds. Broadcast scanned all frequencies to see how far in the range the Decepticon might be. Meanwhile, Dirge was searching frequencies, too. He tracked the point Broadcast had reached and triggered his fear-inducing subsonics generator.

The Decepticon grinned to himself as Broadcast's terrified scream filled the Cybertronian-level airwaves. A pity the Autobot did not also have access to the human airwaves. But now that the scraplet is taken care of... He circled and dove downward without concern for the natural flight capabilities of the form he had taken. He righted himself just after coming below the Autobot's firing range and triggered the subsonic generator again. Without Broadcast blocking it, they were all susceptible.

To his disappointment, not all of them were reduced to a trembling state. He had expected to need a second pass over Prime, but the medic was also still on his feet, as was the femme with a crossbow and the red mech by the door. He scanned their superstructures in turn, then laughed out loud. He added the mockery to his second pass. This time only Optimus and the red mech remained standing, but the medic kept his wits about him long enough to shoot in Dirge's general direction.

Inside the comm room, Broadcast was huddled on the floor under his chair, arms wrapped tightly around his folded legs. When something clattered to the ground, he shrieked and scrambled in the opposite direction. After a few moments he recovered enough to peek over at it and saw that Rhythm had slid off of the console. With his connection disrupted, both minimechs were just lifeless exoskeletons. Broadcast reached out and grasped Rhythm's hand. He had the eerie feeling of touching the deceased Jazz.

Tightening his hold, Broadcast forced his relay system to put itself right, then reactivated his link to Rhythm and Blues. Together they attacked the console to restore the invaded frequencies. For you, bro.

He was too late to prevent the two other assaults, but he would be fragged if he would let Dirge do it again. Instead he was just in time to catch and record the jet saying something garbled in their own language. Then Dirge took off toward the north.

"Ev'rybody with me? Sorry for losin' it there. That dire-soundin' pronouncement in Decepticon-accented Cybertronese translates to 'Now you're in for it, Autobums'. I'm guessin' we should prep ourselves for more uninvited visitors."

Outside, Arcee was muttering unpleasantries with such creativity that Ironhide would be proud. She hurried to help Huffer to his feet, then they checked Moonracer. Ratchet sat up on his knees and shook his head, giving the right side a hearty thump with his palm, then he called out, "Auditory receptor check!"

"Ratchet!" Arcee cried with irritation. "That is not helpful! Come here and see to Moonracer!" She gestured to the other femme, who was clinging to Huffer's arm. He was still shaky, himself.

Ratchet grunted as he got to his feet, staggering to one side. "I have to see to myself, it appears. Blast that Dirge." He made it over to Moonracer and Huffer, first running scans over each of them to locate which part of their systems were still being disrupted.

"More bad news," Broadcast's voice called over their comm lines. "Heard back from the Ark. They're under attack by the Combaticons, with Ramjet, Thrust, and Astrotrain thrown in for good measure."

"How many able-bodied mechs are there, again?" Prime asked.

"Rhetorical, Optimus?" Ratchet inquired as he worked on Moonracer via an open panel in the back of her head. "After this, we are getting forms that can clear the atmosphere whether the government agrees or not."

Broadcast piped up again, "Annnnd y'all need to transform and be inconspicuous 'cuz we got a truck comin' in. Guess they missed the signs."

Ratchet triggered Moonracer's transformation circuits and stepped back, about to do the same, yet he paused. "Can you tell what type of truck, Broadcast? Also, check the misdirection field's status."

"It's outta range of visual, but it sounds like one of those things that transports cars to the dealership. Similar to Prime's engine, sorta."

"They put junker cars on those, also, do they not?" Ratchet began to look around warily.

"Yeah," Broadcast replied. "But there ain't supposed to be any comin' in today. Got visual," he abruptly amended. "Yeah, it's a car carrier. Got a few cars on it, but they ain't junkers at all. Comin' in by the south road."

Optimus turned in the indicated direction and held his gun by his side. "Autobots, hold your positions." No one moved as the car carrier entered the junkyard. The tractor pulling it was on par with Prime's size in vehicle mode, and the cars it carried were an admirable collection of racing vehicles.

Ratchet released his cutting saw from his left arm casement.

The two top cars sprang off the carrier, the section that had held them peeling to either side to free the other two. Then the truck cab began to transform, the carrier parts joining its form. When the mech was finished, he stood a head taller than Optimus and had an unpleasant grin on his face. His body appeared more bulky with the gray carrier armor over his purple plating, but everyone knew he was still just as agile with or without it.

Optimus refused to be intimidated. "Motormaster. What are you doing here?"

The Decepticon chortled. "Stunticons, ATTACK!" He plowed right into Optimus while the four cars with him sped off toward the other Autobots. Prime had planted his feet in anticipation of the move, yet was pushed back all the same, leaving furrows in ground. He grabbed hold of Motormaster's arms to keep from losing his balance altogether, also keeping the Decepticon from lashing out. Motormaster growled and tried to shove Optimus away, leading to a grappling match.

Arcee stood in front of Huffer and Moonracer, hefting her energy bow. She wavered between the yellow and black cars that were heading toward what looked to them like the easiest pickings, letting Drag Strip and Wildrider think she couldn't chose between them. "It has been a while, boys. Let's race!" She fired off two rapid shots, one bouncing off the center of Drag Strip's hood, the other off the center of Wildrider's. She then transformed and revved her engine. Just as the two Decepticons closed in, Huffer jumped up and fired on them with dual plasma guns. They swerved and transformed, unaffected by the latest attack. Arcee drove a circle around them in the meantime, braking hard to spray them with gravel. Then Drag Strip was struck in the side of the head by an old engine block.

Huffer was already running when Wildrider shot at him. Arcee took off with Drag Strip in pursuit. Meanwhile, Optimus commed over to Ratchet, "Tell me, Ratchet...what are your...Decepticon senses...telling you?"

The medic was currently engaging Breakdown, the white and blue Stunticon dodging around as Ratchet made repeated attempts to take off his head with his saw. Ratchet feinted right then brought his left leg around, knocking Breakdown off-balance just long enough for Ratchet to take a look around. Everyone was engaged except for Perceptor, who remained by the entrance and was taking shots toward whoever needed support. All of the Stunticons were attacking -- except Dead End, who he just now realized was nowhere in sight. Ratchet swung around as Breakdown climbed back to his feet and started shooting at him. Ratchet took his shield from his back and tried to block while looking for Dead End at the same time. Finally he saw the dark red and gray mech sneaking along the garage wall, out of Perceptor's visual range. He opened a private line to the scientist. "Perceptor, to your right!"

Then Ratchet shoved his shield into Breakdown, knocking him over again, then stepped over him and kicked him in the head as he went down. In the few seconds bought by the move, Ratchet analyzed what they knew so far. They were possibly making attempts to get information from Lennox, or at the very least trick us into splitting our forces. They have attacked the Ark with an attack following here...yet if there hadn't been anyone on the Ark to tell us, would they have still had a group up there? The ship is useless to them without...

He opened a secure Autobot-only frequency. "They are after the key to the Ark! Perceptor, get inside and meet up with Broadcast! Both of you go to the back chamber, quick!" Ratchet took out his chaingun and laid down a line of fire across the entrance as Perceptor fled inside. Dead End was forced to retreat, trailing smoke but no visible damage from Perceptor's cannon.

Ratchet narrowed his optics. He commed over the group line, "They have a new type of shielding. I will attempt to analyze it, but I need someone to keep this miscreant occupied." As he fended off Breakdown with his shield again, he glanced around to see who might be available. Huffer was back by Moonracer, who had recovered enough to transform and, while 'hiding' behind Huffer, was getting in her share of shots against Wildrider. Prime was in a stalemate with Motormaster, which was preferable to the Decepticon winning. Arcee was racing Drag Strip along the perimeter. "Arcee! This way!" Ratchet began to back toward the garage, firing over the top of his shield to distract Breakdown.

Arcee understood the unspoken plan and veered toward Breakdown, Drag Strip's tires screeching as he followed. Ratchet shoved Breakdown into their path. Arcee turned to avoid hitting him, but Drag Strip wasn't able to. He ran over his teammate, transforming after and stomping back to him. "Idiot! Stop getting in my way!"

Ratchet ignored them. "Arcee, find Dead End. We must--"

He was interrupted by a bellow from Motormaster that sounded like, "Stunticons, UNITE!"

"No!" Arcee screamed. She transformed and ran toward the big Decepticon. "Concentrate fire on Motormaster!" The Autobots did so, and Motormaster laughed as he abruptly freed a hand to slam his fist into Prime's chin in a resounding right hook. Optimus stumbled and was knocked off his feet as Dead End, in vehicle mode, ran into him from behind. The smaller Decepticon transformed and slid free of the potential fall out, skidding up beside Motormaster's left leg.

"I made a tactical error," Arcee growled. She turned and shot at Drag Strip. Ratchet followed suit. "You will not be getting a leg up over us, Decepticons!"

Ratchet uttered a groan at the joke, doubting that it was unintentional. He transformed as Breakdown and Drag Strip headed for Motormaster. Where is Wildrider? he wondered as he sped up to ram the two Stunticons.

"Ratch--!" He heard Arcee call out, but too late -- a laughing Wildrider rammed into him, causing him to skid sideways and almost up onto his right-side wheels. Ratchet shifted to balance his weight, righting himself but losing the race with the three. Optimus made a last attempt to bring at least one down, but his weapon was just as useless against them. The three fell in beside Motormaster. Armor panels began shifting on all of them faster than the Autobots could blink -- or shoot.

Broadcast slammed his fists down on the console as he watched the battlefield. He couldn't get a lock on any of the Stunticons when they were racing around, owing, he'd bet, to their shielding. He turned in his seat as he heard footsteps. Perceptor dashed in, looked panicked. "Broadcast, we must go now!"

"Was just about to wrap things up here." He leapt down, directing Rhythm and Blues to jump on his back. They transformed, fitting onto an extra frame strut between his shoulders. Perceptor led the way out then they ran down the hallway. "This's a disaster. Didn't think us reunitin' would mean just more fightin' with the 'Cons! An' if Ratch is right, this base is toast. Even Prime can't stop a chargin' Menasor!"

"Did Ratchet not relay the code to you for the main defense grid?"

"He did. But if they got shieldin' to deflect energy weapons, an' it looks like they do, then I don't wanna be in a fifty mile radius of this place when it ricochets off that big bruiser."

"I fear I must agree that your reasoning is sound. We must find an alternative means of defense." They reached the elevator to the lower levels. Perceptor tapped the button to open the doors, then they boarded. "We should have prepared for this eventuality."

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda. We been preparin' to transfer stuff from the Ark. Didn't think you of all mechs would forget that. I heard it was your project, after all."

"Yes, so it is. There is no need to be irritated by that."

Broadcast looked down, then up to the ceiling. "Sorry, man. I've been feelin' outta sorts over bein' separated from you guys. I know we're all still on the same team, but it feels...I dunno."

"I have not yet composed a description of the emotion, although I do understand. I would have preferred to spend less time in the laboratory during these past several days. However, the suggestion Ratchet made to me was of significant importance for the greater good."

"I don't even think anyone but you an' Ratchet know about it. Mind if I ask what gives?"

"My apologies, but yes, I do mind. Wait until we reach the chamber and then I will explain. Also, you are mistaken. Someone else does know."

"Which is why we're runnin' instead of checkin' up on 'Latch."

"Precisely."

Broadcast slid to a halt before the door to the back chamber. He tapped a panel and the keypad was moved down the wall to his height. He punched in the password and fretted out loud, "I'm suddenly wonderin' where Dirge got off to."

"I could not obtain a visual confirmation of the direction in which he departed."

"North." Broadcast went rigid. "Oakland! He's after Chromia's team!" He glanced about him. "Hope I got enough juice to get through these walls and get through to them in time!"

The Secretary of Defense had just gotten out of a meeting where several military officials had walked out with documents bearing his signature. He was carrying another stack under his arm and was planning to view them elsewhere. Trailbreaker was waiting at the curb outside the building, holographic driver standing ready to open the door for him.

As Keller reached the LaCrosse and gave a tight smile to the 'driver', the sound of booming bass came from around the corner in the form of a dark red Honda with silver racing stripes. Keller could have sworn its windows were rattling in time with the music. He shook his head. "What a shame." Trailbreaker's driver nodded in agreement then opened the door.

The Honda halted in the middle of the road and transformed.

Keller stared, hand on the inside door latch. The resulting robot had a red band encircling the top half of its face. "He's...not one of yours, is he?"

"No," the hologram replied, moving in front of him. "Stay behind me, sir."

Keller's eyes remained on the invading robot. "Contact the network. Tell them I need an evacuation immediately."

The supposed-Decepticon was looking around at the buildings. The plating on its arms shifted around until a matched set of pile drivers took their place. The bot stepped forward. The mechanism of its left arm slammed into the ground, rattling cars and windows all along the street. The right arm slammed down, then both at the same time. Car alarms went off and people who had come to look out from buildings began to scream.

"Cat's out of the bag again," Keller muttered.

Trailbreaker transformed, bringing his fists together in front of him. "Hello, Rumble! I hear the reason Soundwave keeps his face covered is because he's so ugly! I guess it runs in the family!"

The Decepticon jerked his head toward the Autobot and uttered something in Cybertronian that sounded foul. He ran toward Trailbreaker, slamming down a pile driver every other step. The concrete was splitting all around him.

The very top of Trailbreaker's head raised, panels rearranging themselves. "Stay within five feet of me, John, no matter what happens."

Keller looked at the building he had just exited, thinking of the bomb shelter beneath it. He then looked at Rumble, and, scowling, moved close to touch Trailbreaker's ankle. "Will do."

Rumble came close enough to bring back his right arm to deliver the worst punch to the face anyone could receive, when a glint of yellow burst into existence in front of Trailbreaker. The force field crackled into the visible spectrum as Rumble thrust his arm forward -- and was promptly stopped cold, then hot as jolts of energy wracked his frame. The Decepticon screamed as he yanked his arm free. Keller dropped his papers and clapped his hands over his ears.

Rumble sneered as his systems compensated for the power surge. He swung both arms back then forward, causing the pile driver mechanism to clang against itself in the air and creating an awful noise. "You mess with Rumble, you're goin' for a tumble!" He slammed his arms into the ground at the edge of the force field, sending cracks underneath it and rocking the ground beneath Trailbreaker's feet.

The Autobot shifted around, mindful of Keller as he found better footing for a moment. "What weapons do you have?!" Keller yelled to be heard over the noise.

"Several, but none I want to use in the street!"

Rumble abruptly changed his assault to the force field itself. He wasn't electrocuted this time because he was not partially in its boundaries, but he didn't make any progress in denting it, nor did his actions seem to rattle Trailbreaker.

Keller instinctively shielded his face with his arms, but when the Autobot stood calmly, appearing thoughtful, the human lowered them and clenched his fists. "Do what you need to in order to contain him! We need to know what he knows about the other Decepticons."

Trailbreaker snapped his fingers. "Contain him!" Keller was unsure what the Autobot was going to do. He watched with curiosity as the bottom edge of the force field began to curl away from them, slowly curving toward Rumble, who continued his assault on the upper part of the energy shield.

To be Continued