Chapter Text
Wheeljack double-checked the gauges on his ship as he entered the atmosphere. The last thing he needed was his ship's hall melting because he'd gotten his angle off.
Everything looked good.
He sat back in his chair and tapped on the comm unit in his dashboard, broadcasting his encrypted signal. Any autobots in the area would pick it up.
Almost immediately, an incoming transmission filtered through.
“Unknown vessel,” an authoritative voice declared. “This is Autobot Outpost Omega One. Identify yourself.”
Cheery. Gotta love the leader types.
“I’ve had warmer welcomes from Decepticon combat brigades,” Wheeljack snarked.
“Wheeljack?” a familiar voice exclaimed through the links. “You old con crusher! What are you doing around here?”
Wheeljack’s spark lurched in hope. “Bulkhead? That you?” He laughed. “What’s with the security?”
“You are a combatant of a war,” a new voice intoned icily. “Security is a necessity.”
“Not as much as you use,” Bulkhead scoffed. “Jackie, how soon until you can give a servo here? This planet is crawling with cons.”
Wheeljack checked his instruments. “Entering atmosphere now. Stayed in stealth til now.”
A moment of silence, then the first voice spoke. “We will send you landing coordinates.”
“Can’t wait to see you again!” Bulkhead called once more just before the transmission ended.
Wheeljack let out a breathy laugh.
Thank Primus, he wasn’t the last Wrecker.
The coordinates came through as promised. He set course for the location.
The proximity alarm screamed.
Something slammed into the hull.
Wheeljack cursed and grabbed the controls. He spotted several Decepticons on his tail. “Guess Bulkhead wasn’t kidding about the cons,” he grumbled.
He shoved the Jackhammer into a rolling diving maneuver to put himself behind the cons before opening fire.
The pesky fliers scattered. Only one took a glancing shot.
Another hit rocked his ship.
Not good. He didn’t have enough fuel to keep up a prolonged air battle.
The wrecker lay on the throttle and shot ahead of the imitation seekers.
If he could just get to the landing zone—
The Jackhammer shuddered. An alarm screeched. One of the engines gave out.
So much for that plan.
Wheeljack jabbed hasty commands into the controls of the vessel and directed the ship to descend towards an unpopulated area. Or hopefully unpopulated. He wasn’t an expert on organic planets.
He gritted his dental plates and braced for impact. The ship crashed into the tall organic sprouts and bounced and skidded to a stop, tossing Wheeljack around in the cockpit. He slid to the floor as the ship finally came to a stop.
“Frrrag,” he groaned. “Shoulda worn the safety harness.” He rolled over and climbed to his pedes.
Something landed on the roof.
Cons. Never knew when to quit.
He grabbed an extra blaster from a shelf and moved to the hatch. Time to get some pests off his ship.
The wrecker tapped on the control panel, opening the hatch. Two shots flew past and scorched the wall. Wheeljack smirked. Amateurs. He rounded the corner, blaster already positioned towards the source of the shots.
Three shots, and the two vehicons went down. He advanced, blaster growing warm in his servos.
Suddenly, the ground disappeared beneath his pedes. He yelped and fell, catching a glimpse of greenish blue light before falling into a dingy metal room. He scrambled to his pedes, but not fast enough.
Tendrils burst from the shadows, latched onto his frame, and delivered a high shock.
He stiffened and spasmed, a staticky noise escaping his voice box.
The shock finally stopped, immediately dropping all his systems offline. He slumped unconscious to the floor.
******
Wheeljack came online sluggishly. His systems rebooted one by one.
Ugh, he hated getting electrocuted. Left him feeling tingly for joors after.
He onlined his optics, shuttering them to get the glitches to clear out. He was alone in a dark cell. Decepticon probably. He looked up, his arms were suspended above him by chains tethered to the ceiling, keeping his pedes just off the ground. The position pulled uncomfortably on his shoulders. It’d tear something if he stayed like this too long.
Good thing he didn’t plan to stay.
He tugged at the chains experimentally, setting himself to sway slightly. Yeah, nope. That wasn’t going to work. He had no leverage.
Not much to do but wait then. Someone would come sooner or later. The Decepticons were too dramatic to leave him hanging for long. And with a bot came mistakes and opportunities.
A door hissed open behind him. Right on time.
Pede steps circled around him until Starscream came into sight, grinning nastily. “Well, well,” he leered. “What do we have here? A little Autobot wandering into our territory. How unfortunate.”
Wheeljack rolled his optics. “Oh great, couldn’t even send someone actually scary? Everyone else got better things to do?”
Starscream scowled and lashed out with a clawed servo.
Wheeljack refused to flinch and grinned. Energon dripped down the scratches left by the enraged seeker.
It’d take more than that to break a wrecker. Starscream wasn’t up to the challenge.
******
Dreadstorm rested a servo on Bulkhead’s shoulder to gain his attention.
The former wrecker startled a bit. “Dreadstorm?” he asked. “What’s up? Need something?”
The silver war-frame frowned. “You are not with your friend and ward.”
Bulkhead looked away, guilt crawling in his EM field. “Yeah, uh, he seems busy.”
Dreadstorm glanced over to the main part of the base where Wheeljack was charming the others with stories and quips. Miko sat nearby, hanging on his every word. “...that is not what you are concerned with,” he observed.
Bulkhead had proven to be level-headed and intelligent. He wouldn’t allow petty jealousy to prevent him from spending time with a friend he hadn’t seen in so long.
Dreadstorm knew better than to brush off out-of-character behavior.
The former wrecker hesitated, then slumped slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Something just... feels off. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Or upset that Miko’s spending so much time with him.”
“You did not mope nearly as long when I began spending time with her,” the silver mech pointed out. “And I was not a friend you clearly missed. What do you think feels off?”
Bulkhead shuttered his optics, then refocused on Wheeljack, thoughtful. “I really don’t know. Maybe how he looked at you? Or reacted to the humans. Or maybe... You noticed him looking around the base. It was like you. But that shouldn’t bother me. Those are normal things.”
Dreadstorm considered his words.
He had noticed. Wheeljack had started surveying the base mentally as soon as he arrived. Even while he spoke with the members of the team, he was constantly scanning his surroundings. That could be trained in by missions and battles. As for the humans, he hadn’t been as surprised or curious as Dreadstorm had expected. Like he’d seen them before, or he heard of them. Again, it was possible he had seen or heard of them before. Or maybe he just didn’t like organics.
But the way he’d looked at Dreadstorm...
Fear, wariness, and awe.
He recognized Dreadstorm and immediately categorized him as a threat. And yet, he’d made several attempts to strike up a conversation with the larger mech since.
Except Dreadstrom didn’t belong in this universe. He just arrived. Only the bots on Earth knew him.
So how did Wheeljack know him?
Dreadstorm crossed his arms with a furrowed brow. “No, you are right. Something is wrong.”
They exchanged a concerned look.
“What do we do?” Bulkhead asked nervously.
“We protect our friends,” Dreadstorm replied. He raised an optic ridge. “You know him best, anyway we can confirm our suspicions?”
A slow smile spread across Bulkhead’s face. “I have just the thing.”