Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To be in space or on other planets that aren’t Earth for extended periods of time, there is an expectation of experiencing altered gravity. Whether hypo- or hypergravity, the general understanding is limited with projects for long-duration exposures.

It is expected that during planetary exploration, there will be several transitions in gravity levels that humans will experience and in reaction to them adaptation will be necessary.

Though these changes whether in hypo-gravity or hyper-gravity are poorly understood. It is expected to depend on the transitions, how people perceive gravity, sex-based differences and the advancements of technology.

As different agencies are expected to send astronauts into space, whether to explore the moon or further planets in the solar system. They are expected to experience long periods of microgravity (zero-gravity) before arriving at their final destinations.

Scientists are trying to under the impacts of prolonged exposure to the drastically different gravities.

These studies have been conducted with further data sent from various space faring missions and time spent on the ISS.

—

The shuttle shuddered once and died as it came in for landing, he was standing towards the back with Megatron to his left and Mirage right behind.

“Everyone brace for impact.” Megatron’s voice was level, they’d been on this damned planet for weeks now and the attack was happening in the one area they hadn’t been patrolling that often, the seekers would fly overhead and that was about it. This was more Starscream’s territory than anything else and he had been stuck on Cybertron for the last week. Give or take.

It was a Cybertronian outpost during the last war, for both sides, this specific area had been under decepticon control up until the last few hundred years of war.

There were still Cybertronians who lived here, as the mines were still packed with energon veins. It had been on the way to becoming a colony world, as one that is uninhabitable by organic species but a good jump point for trade. A few small towns were spread across the planet, this one was the smallest of them. There were under twenty bots living there, but most worked in the mines and were paid handsomely for it. Hound knew they either had to enjoy the work or want the money enough to stick around this part of the galaxy.

In the three years he’d been away from Earth, he’d learnt more about the universe than he’d ever wanted to know. Let alone thought he would. One of those things being, if Cybertronians were going to take over an uninhabitable planet, it was usually for good cause and the galactic council approved it with conditions. Including having manned refueling stations for other species.

It honestly made a lot of sense, it was a well functioning agreement that made it to where Cybertronian’s at the edges wouldn’t starve and prevented organic lifeforms from potentially getting stranded in this quadrant of space.

He’d heard Jazz and Prowl horror stories of the quint attack when they first met.

Sighing deeply, he lightly shifts the hold on his gun, it’s wear and tear familiar now from when he’d gotten it. It broke down like his first cybertronian rifle, but this one just had a bit more punch. He still couldn’t believe it had been almost two years since he’d gotten it, the first one lasting hardly six months.

Two years normally felt like a long time for him, at least back home, where it was just the typical day in and day out sequences of events. Whether the days at headquarters or in suit, they were all dragging.

Whereas here, where he had a limited time where he was in a consistent orbiting schedule, he didn’t really know how much time would elapse when he was away from Cybertron. There was a small clock in his cockpit now, though it was hardly helpful for two reasons.

It was in a language he didn’t understand, set to the Iaconian timezone which he could vaguely understand, and in his cockpit which he couldn’t see when connected anymore. He hadn’t been able to see his cockpit in years now, but that was for the best. Focus was more important than the unnecessary input.

God, that reminded him of Shockwave.

Shaking off the feeling, when the shuttle crashed into the ground, the door opened with a bang and they all went tumbling out.

The small town wasn’t much but a handful of a few stories tall buildings and Cybertronian’s in the street, as if the Quintessons weren’t descending on this very position. His breath caught as they ran out, voices shouting at them to get to cover, spreading out across the town.

His back collided with a wall, right as the smaller scouting ships appeared, two or three of them rocketed overhead. Dropping Quintessons literally on their heads.

Closing his eyes for a second, he took a slow breath before turning and bringing his rifle back up. Everything exploded around him, ears ringing. Swearing, he rammed his back against the building as it swayed, “Everyone, get underground, now!” This was already going to hell and they’d barely just gotten there.

Comms crackling back to life, the chaos was made evident through the audio channels. The entire planet was being pelted at once it seemed like it wasn’t the biggest of assaults but it was enough to struggle with.

Looking to his left, Jazz was a little distance away, pressed close to a building as he watched the sky. Sighing slowly, he turns on his microphone and pings their main channel, to which it connects instantly. His throat was trying to tighten, “How many are coming towards up, I don’t have a good eye line.” Jazz sighed and kept an eye on the sky.

”A fair few, but not a thousand. It looks worse than it actually is. You doing okay?” Nodding a bit, Hound shifted his weight against the wall which shook again, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Jazz and Prowl had arrived last night, falling in around Hound’s heater in the next town over. They had been in one of the other towns across the planet for a few days, it had a station set up with direct connection to Cybertron. The call for reinforcements hadn’t really been necessary but he was glad it was there now.

That heater always had so many people around it unless he was asleep, it was one of the most popular in camp, partially from his tampering with it and partially because if he were awake it would have at least Mirage there, if not Megatron. Only one of them would stick around while he slept.

Everyone else seemed to have arrived somewhere planet-side in the last week or so.

Optimus had been the second to arrive, supposedly on a humanitarian trip, only for his medic and handful of guards to make camp around Megatron’s heater and join in on plans. The bunch of them had made themselves at home and showed no signs of leaving, getting comfortable with the prospects of a fight they’d been mostly kept away from.

If the tone in Megatron’s voice said anything, it was that he was worried that Optimus, who’d been at the front of the shuttle, would end up at the front of this fight.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were split on opposite sides of the planet, just out of range for normal comms, each taking one of the coastlines like the units were made to be near the toxic water.

It was the first time in almost a year that they were all in the same place at the same time. Of course they weren’t all technically in the same space, with the twins on the other side of the planet, though likely speeding this way, he couldn’t help the anxiety that was churning.

Hound couldn’t help the frowning superstition of it all, any time more than three of them were together at any one given time, bad things were bound to follow and it tore up his stomach.

Like this damned attack.

He wasn’t the only one either, they all got twitchy when too many of them were together, other than in the apartment, their one safe refuge from the curse.

Loud booms tore open his speaker as the wall started to crumble, they couldn’t let these buildings collapse, people would get trapped underground and tunnels would further collapse. This area wasn’t stable enough yet, but it had been necessary to build there on the veins or lose them to the Quintessons.

Now, they were there in a war zone, just trying to hold things together.

Hound was busy and his head was pounding, holding up the falling wall as people seemed to appear and try to rush underground. He didn’t know what would be safer now. His suit was straining, letting out the faint groans he’d grown accustomed to hearing when missions dragged on too long.

When they hadn’t managed to hit a proper wash racks in weeks and especially when they hadn’t seen Iacon in more than a month. His supplies had been dangerously low when Prowl returned from his communications with Iacon. He just hoped that whatever he and Soundwave had worked out would continue to work out, even if it was the biggest headache for all of them.

It made any of their needs feel like a burden, and not like what was keeping them alive.

Grunting with the effort, he shoves and braces his shoulder against the slab, taking a breath. With a shift in his stance, he was able to grab one of the many tools he now carried and started to make the simple repair to hold it for the last few stragglers and hopefully through the battle.

”Alright, a report would be appreciated right about now! I still don’t have an eye line!” He hated yelling at them, truly, but a building was trying to fall on him at present and they all knew from first hand experience now how little fun that was.

His comms clicked off and the distant booming of Breakdown’s cannon became louder for a moment as he got close enough for comms, “Constant here, Manageable.” Then the thrum of distant fighting cued in, “Same over here Hound, stop fretting.” Even though Jazz’s voice was a comfort generally, in this moment it grated at his nerves.

More loud and painful booms tore through the air as Hound finally propped up the falling wall, enough to hold it for a little while as he redrew his gun. Magnets snapping together as they had probably a thousand times over now. Sighing slowly, he looks up at the sky briefly, moving while raising the gun to get a better view.

Something that was distinctly not a Quintesson ship was streaking east and away from the city, he blinked at it, several times, “What the hell?” Jazz seemed to appear next to him, covered in green gore, “Uh, that wasn’t there a minute ago. I swear.” Their comms crackled back to life, “I would classify a giant inflamed ship as no longer being a manageable situation Hound. If you haven’t come out from under a building I would suggest doing so now.” Nodding slowly, he started towards the approaching Quintessons.

”Yeah, BD, I’d classify that just the same.” He sighed as his gun came up, barrel magnetizing to his arm as it snapped back out of the way, “Someone keep optics on that, we don’t know what it is.” His breath leveled, slamming into the enemy with far too much practice.
It was time to get to work.

—
Slamming into the sand, he groaned and twisted, kicking the Quintesson across the jaw then struggling back to his feet. His suit wasn’t exactly hot, but it certainly was stuffy, the recycled air was getting thick and he was desperate to open his cockpit. Only the air planet side was so thin and toxic, not exactly deadly but he couldn’t stand outside his suit without feeling lightheaded.

They were trying to make their way towards the worst area of attack, the small town that they were in had evacuated underground and most of the Quintessons in the area were trying to retreat towards Hound’s current position.

It would be the first time that the four of them had been in the same area in ages and because of that the whole planet was under siege.

This, this was why they all kept their distance from each other unless in the apartment. Sighing, Sunny collides with the Quintesson again and digs his braces into its flesh, splatting green up the arms of his suit. Grunting, he grabs what he could of it’s internals and rips it back out, panting slowly as it falls.

His comm crackles back to life, “Sunny, we’re going to need to move towards the main position. I’ll need cover.” Nodding a bit, he gives a loose thumbs up towards Bluestreak. Just hardly a glint in the horizon of his scope, “Coming towards you babe.”

He only paused for the moment, listening to the gagging and comments on comms as he jogged towards where Bluestreak had lowered his face to the ground. Smirking a bit, Sunny kept going.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed whenever Blue was embarrassed, but he was ahead by three, now four, times. If he stayed ahead before their return to Cybertron, it meant Blue had to go find his preferred organic food vender in the system and cover the cost of it, “Yeah, alright. Four then.” Grinning, he finishes the jog over and offers a hand, “Come on then, they’ll need us.” Bluestreak took his hand and Sunny leaned back slightly to pull him up.
Nodding a bit, Bluestreak sighs and starts that way. It wasn’t a horrifically far walk, but it was annoying enough especially when everyone else was able to transform. He was thankful in a way that Blue needed cover when setting back up his positioning, especially when they didn’t know where the enemies would be.

A sonic boom shook them all and Sunny went to a knee, grasping at Bluestreak’s arm briefly before looking around for Thundercracker. It was larger than his typically were, but he was around, somewhere.

The only thing he could see was something on fire streaking across the sky that was a lot bigger than a seeker.

His heart beat hard once, then twice as anxiety clutched at his throat. Staring as something fell from it.

Sunny could still remember their desperate first day on Cybertron. Getting separated while trying to get the Odyssey on the ground safely. Falling while having to stay calm, it was in a pilot's nature to handle the situation first then panic after, but so many of those instincts had shifted over the years.

They’d been away from Earth for three years, were spending every day with people who looked like their suits and pretended to be the same. Sometimes it didn’t even feel like pretending anymore.

“He’s falling.” His voice was quiet, most of their unit now out of earshot as they raced towards the Quintessons. Bluestreak followed his eyeline and brought his gun up, looking through the scope before swearing loudly and stepping back, “The forge of Solus Prime, how in the name of the pit is he here?” Bluestreak sounded terrified.

Grabbing at his arm, Blue pulled on his elbow, “We need to get out of here.” Glancing at him, Sunny frowned, “What?” Blue shook his head a bit, “No, no questions, we need to not be here.” Sunny looked back and saw another person falling, but instead of a black form it was red and yellow.
Already shaking his head, Sunstreaker pulled away, “Sorry darling, if it were anything else.” Patting his hand briefly, he shrugged before turning and sprinting that way. Shifting to the main comm line, getting quiet bits of static, “Come on.”

Bluestreak was shouting behind him, but he was faster, just starting to catch the edges of conversation had in the small town, “Hey! Is anyone seeing the three bots falling from the sky?” There was a light burst of static before Hound came through, “We’re trying to get that way, any idea of what it could be?”

He watched as one of them shifted what looked like door-wings briefly, till it jetessened him forward some, he almost stalled but instead pushed forward faster, “Uh, maybe? Bluestreak had a bad reaction to the blackish purple one.” His comm crackled as Bluestreak transferred to their channel.
The only Cybertronian’s who knew their secret had the codes to this channel, could access their live camera feeds, all in case any sort of emergency happened.

“A bad reaction? Bad reaction? That is probably the biggest horror in modern Cybertronian history just falling from the fragging sky!” Nodding a bit, Sunny sighed, that sounded about right.

They fell quiet as he kept running, watching the ship-like thing streak across the sky even as the falling bots landed. His brother falls in near one of the red ones, saything something before dealing with nearby Quintessons. As if this wasn’t horrifying, then their comms crackled again.
“Can anyone on this frequency hear me?” He did stop them, came to a sliding stop to the point Bluestreak slammed straight into him and they tumbled through the sand dunes.

Everyone fell quiet for a moment before Hound spoke up, “Arcturus Two or Three?” They all knew the vague short list, but this, them being here, several days out from Cybertron like it was entirely normal just to appear out of the sky, “Arcturus Three, holy shit, Hound?” Sunny’s mouth ran dry.
Hot Rod, twenty-six year old pilot from somewhere in California, had been a pilot longer than Sunstreaker or Sideswipe had been. He was one of Shockwave’s big project pilots. He’d been one of Kup’s last trainees before, well, before.

“Roddy, what the hell?” He couldn’t help it, struggling up out of the stand, he pulls Blue back to his feet, Roddy, the glowing ball of sunshine seemed to wave, “Hey Sunny, how you doing kid?” He was only a year older than the twins, but had two years more experience.

Hound waved all of that off, “Roddy, who is on your crew? Who is here?” Nodding a bit, he finally regained focused and kept running towards the rapidly approaching battle, “Uh, right. Well, Arcee, Percy, and Ratchet are here with me. Plus a friend.” Bluestreak groaned, “Let me guess, his name is Deadlock?” Roddy’s smile was palpable just in his voice, “Yeah! What, you knew him?” Bluestreak was already shaking his head as he settled down on a ridge, near a second sniper.

He was muttering, “Know him, almost have been killed by him too many times to fragging count.” Sunny went to go around when Blue caught his hand, speaking to him instead of through comms, “Be careful, please.” The tone was terrifying. Blue sounded scared.
Nodding slowly, Sunny squeezed his hand, “For you, always.” Before he nodded again and tore off into the fight, jumping and grabbing at the nearest Quintesson.

It was time to get down to business, “Hey guys, where exactly are we by the way? It doesn’t look like mars.” He wanted to close his eyes, to swear, hell even to cry as the homesickness grabbed at his heart.

”Now is not the time Roddy, try to get the others on frequency and we’ll explain everything once the town is safe.” Hound’s voice was tight, “What town?” Roddy popped over a hill and stared, “Oh.” Sunny tried not to cry, “That town.” It wasn’t like this was Earth shattering news. They all knew aliens existed.

Maybe just not to this extent though.

—

Being manhandled was not his description of a good time, but neither was free fall or the impact on a non-terrestrial planet. Clutching desperately at Deadlock’s fingers, he kept swearing.

The kaiju that surrounded them made him swear louder.

Deadlock moved fast, his free hand lashing out and getting splattered with green as his claws cut through the flesh of the other alien, “Hold on and stay close.” He was shifted up onto Deadlock’s shoulder. With nothing really better to do, he clutched at the over-sized cats shoulder and tried not to swear again.

He was pinged with a comm frequency and connected quickly, to chaos, “Just fucking focus on the fight, I will get out there to them!” Staring at the ground, he frowned, it wasn’t the only time in his life he’d heard deadmen speak but this was probably one of the weirdest.

Then the visual hallucination was strange, because they were all pretty sure Arcturus One had been dead for the better part of the last two years and Hound, Harold fucking Jackson was running toward him with a absurdly large gun and a mech hot on his tail.

Hound glanced over his shoulder and said something, pointing towards them and gesturing widely before the other mech nodded and followed.
Deadlock spun and kicked at a kaiju, baring his teeth before staring, slowing, “Oh fuck.” And that was probably a bad sign. A very bad sign, “What?” He shouted, still clinging to his shoulder like a child, “It’s the champion of Kaon, my lord, Megatron.” His voice was quiet, he was almost shaking.
”Yeah, so?” Deadlock kicked back out at the kaiju and pet fighting, as if remembering that he was there, “So, I have not seen him in likely a thousand years, and the last time I did it was before I failed his assignment.” Rolling his eyes a bit, Ratchet sighs, “Assignment being?” Deadlock dug into the flesh of the kaiju and tore it apart.

Staying silent for only a moment longer, “To kill Starscream or Elita-One, both were deemed a threat to potential peace. I did not want peace.” Ratchet felt the color drain from his face, looking back towards Hound again, “Well, fuck.” Deadlock nodded.

—

Sliding down the slight hill, bumping against the rocks, Hound brought his gun back up and fired several times. There were eight Quintessons surrounding the pair, the mech he didn’t recognize and what he could only assume was ratchet. Red and white assistance suit without a number, had to be a non-pilot.

Several shots just whizzed past his head and he held up a hand, “Hold off Mirage, there’s a civilian.” Megatron slid down next to him and delayed, he was speaking both over comms and out loud, so Megatron would be able to hear, “Civilian?” Mirage took a slow breath, “I don’t see one.”
He tried not to roll his eyes, “He’s the small white and red thing clinging to the big mech's shoulder.” Megatron’s eyes narrowed slowly, “I still don’t see it.” Shaking his head a bit, Hound sighed, “I’ve got it.” he could almost see the angles he needed.

Gun magnetizing to his plating, he took off, slamming into the first Quintesson and throwing his elbow into its eye. He let out a slow breath and pivoted fast, sliding the gun back to his hand and firing through the wound. The Quint dropped dead, bounding over it he shot the next one and slid the gun back while throwing himself towards it.

First down, another seven to go.

Sighing slowly, he moved to the next one, fingers digging into its flesh and tearing through it. Megatron fell in near him, blasting away the second one while he dealt with the third. Ripping it apart with the ease of someone who’d been in this fight too long, “Hound, I still don’t have a visual on the civilians, how do you want me to help?” Mirage’s voice was full of focus.

”Handle the outlying ones, any that aren’t near them.” Shots fizzled through the air, heating it up while he took the practiced shots.
That handled another two, three left. Correction, two, as the dark mech tore one apart and splatter himself and Ratchet in green. Sighing slowly, Hound throws himself at the next closest to him, bending back quickly as Mirage’s shot hits right in front of his face.

Loosely saluting in his direction, Hound hit the last one hard, almost grazing the dark mech's shoulder as he tore into the Quintesson, ripping off its limbs with disgusting gushes of green blood. He was almost able to catch his breath, smiling a bit as it squirmed and died in the sand, “Ratchet, hey,” The claws that rakes from his visor down his chest weren’t exactly welcome.

”Back off!” The mech's voice was dark, deep, and would be terrifying. Except Ratchet was clinging to his shoulder and now the mech was threatening him, while his friend was just in reach.

That just wouldn’t work for him.

The shove came first, then the gentle hold of Ratchet next before the kick to bring space between them. He shifted his grip lightly to stick Ratchet on his own shoulder and activated the magnets before turning towards the dark mech and raising his fists, “If Ratchet trusts you, I have no problems with you, but come near me again and I will handle it.”

Deadlock shifted forward, growling but stopped, his eyes flicking first towards Ratchet, then Mirage a few hundred meters behind them, then to Megatron who had hold of his chest plating, “Deadlock.” Megatron’s voice was cold, in a way he only heard when around Starscream, “You attack Hound again, I will ensure your death.”

Shaking out his hand a bit, he touches his damaged plating with a frown, glancing at his shoulder, “You okay Ratch?” Ratchet stared, “Kid, what the hell?” Smiling a bit, he chuckled weakly, “It’s good to see you too doc.” Glancing back toward Megatron, he winced.

Megatron’s gaze was heavy, even as he still held Deadlock at arms reach and slightly suspended.

“What is that?” Hound tried not to wince at Megatron’s tone, sighing slowly while carefully lifting Ratchet up, mumbling apologize, “This is Ratchet, he is one of our medics, from Earth.” Ratchet clutched at his fingers, likely glaring behind that visor.

The look on Megatron’s face was as if he were seeing a ghost, that and the barely hidden anger that was common when speaking of Earth, but this was different. Something was laying under the surface.

More than just Deadlock’s appearance and now more than just Ratchet too.

His throat tightened as he carefully held the older man, “He’s a civilian, not a pilot. That’s why he’s this small.” He finished lamely, how else was he going to describe this? All Megatron knew was pilots who were bigger than the average Cybertronian. Now Ratchet was here in a enhanced assistant suit like it was entirely normal.

Nodding slowly, he jutted his head back towards the few straggling Quintessons, “I would suggest we finish the fight before,” He froze when the ground shook, Ratchet looked up and swore, “That had to be the Iliad crashing.” Closing his eyes, Hound sighed.

”This, this is why we do not have the five of us together at any one given time.” Carefully setting Ratchet down, he stepped away before sliding his gun back into hand, “Remain here doc, this part is the ugly bit.” His legs carried him up the sand dune like they were designed for it.

He didn’t move like a pilot in a suit anymore, hadn’t since New Kaon, not even like a hunter class that is deeply ingrained. No, this was more than that.

Its why he had to set alarms to remind him to eat and drink, why time in Iacon was used mostly for time out of the suit and sleep, but this work, the work was to important.

He could see the others, moving and handling their own fights. He could see fucking Perceptor of all people standing back to back with Hot Rod, knew Ratchet was behind him under Megatron’s watchful eye and that Arcee apparently was somewhere on this planet.

Likely with the newly crashed Iliad.

Yeah, superstitious his aft, when the events keep happening, its not so much a superstition and more the reality.

Chapter Text

Sol, the star at the center of the solar system, is a near perfect sphere of hot plasma which is heated by nuclear fusion reactions in its core. It is better known as the Sun.

The Sun is 92,955,807 miles from Earth, roughly eight light-minutes. It is 109 times the size of Earth, with its mass being about 330,000 times the mass of Earth. It’s understood to be a g-type main sequence star (G2V), informally known as a yellow dwarf star. Although it’s light is actually white, to the human eye it appears yellow to orange.

In around four to seven billions years, the Sun will undergo a transformation where the core will increase in density while it’s temperature increases, causing its outer layers to expand and change into a red giant. Upon the complication of that phase, it will shed the outer layers and become a dense cooling star, a white dwarf.

At that point it will no longer produce energy via fusion, though it will still glow and give off heat for an estimated couple trillion years. It is theorized to become a dense black dwarf at the end of that phase.

The Sun has played a major role in multiple world religions and mythologies, whether in the actual worship of the sun itself, believing it to be a god of its own or it’s changes affecting religious historical moments.

Across the world, the sun has remained a constant in religion and in daily life for humans, both humans and the Earth have adapted to thrive under the yellow to white spectrum of the sun. It’s radiation levels and UV being blocked by the Earth’s atmosphere, what cannot be blocked have been ensured with safety by human scientists.

It is assumed that humans would be able to survive under other types of suns, so long as humans remain within habitual zones when not in protected spacecraft.

Although the spectral composition of a given star can effect the metabolic system, which can influence sleep and energy metabolism. Higher-energy radiation can lead to DNA and skin damage, along with cancer. The spectral shift could cause a reduction is visual understanding, with different light spectrums being in play. Further humans would need further protections to harmful UV and X-Ray radiation.

But scientists believe humans can adapt and survive under foreign stars.

—

Sun reflecting off sand had slowly become his least favorite thing when it came to missions on planets with an abundance of the stuff, followed by winds that would lodge grit in the joints of his suit and get stuck somehow in his cockpit. Working slowly and methodically through the seals of his suit.

It was all of their least favorite things, it was only bearable when near the ocean or sea, he didn’t know the difference but supposedly there was one but right now he was nowhere near the toxic water of the planet.

No, instead he was rushing through the cramped town streets to ensure there were no more Quintessons lingering where the civilians would be. All the ones further out in the sand were being taken care of by god only knew who, while his comms were awkwardly quiet.

They hadn’t spoken to other humans in probably three years, other than each other, and now there was suddenly at least two more in their comms line, with another two who knew where. He certainly didn’t know what else to say, nearing running into Hot Rod had been a shock and what had come tumbling out of his mouth had probably been incomprehensible.

Sighing, he couldn’t take the painfully awkward silence anymore and switched back to his main comm-line.

The noise there was familiar and welcome, whether Skids and Punch’s bickering, Nickel’s whining, Chromia’s calm speaking, Anode and Lug’s incessant flirting, and Moonracers far to even tone of talking while relaying Elita’s orders.

This was his familiar sense of a battle, with his unit filling his ears with nonsense.

“Welcome back Sideswipe, how are the other pilots?” Chromia’s tone was almost sarcastic, rolling his eyes a bit, he smiled, “Good, good, thinking of you Chromia, as always.” A few chuckles were heard.

He smiled and slid in next to Chromia, she was standing near one of the entrances to the city, scanning the horizon, “The city is clear,” She spoke out loud, keeping it off the chaotic comms, “You doing okay? I heard an explosion.” Sighing slowly, he nods a bit, then points to the contrail.

”That’s what caused the, the explosion, if there was one. We had two pilots drop down from the shuttle, plus a civilian with one of yours. Some dude named Deadlock.” Chromia had been nodding but froze, turning to look at him before turning away, “Elita, we have a non-Quintesson credible threat.”

It was whiplash, he’d just left an awkward silence to enter a tense one. Even he tensed up and shut up, “What is it, Chromia?” Elita sounded slightly winded, but she was fighting in the sand, which was rough on their frames compared to his suit. Chromia glanced at him and his heart sank.

She shuffled her feet a bit before finally saying something, “Sideswipe has just alerted me to the threat, the decepticon assassin Deadlock has crash landed on this planet.” Silence.

Absolute silence. It felt like minutes ticked by.

“Alright, I’m falling back to the town, Chromia and Sideswipe remain as you are, everyone else fan out to follow orders from Ironhide and Megatron.” His heart went to his throat, Elita was always the first out the door.

For her to fall back meant that whoever this Deadlock was, likely would try to kill her. His heart started to race, shifting quickly, he started to scan for threats. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Chromia grasped his shoulder, “Thank you, Sideswipe.” Nodding a bit, he sighed slowly, “So, who is Deadlock then?”

Sighing, Chromia shakes her head a bit, “Someone we can’t trust, ever. We’ve forgiven decepticons in the past, but none like him. Not one who was hired to kill Elita during peace talks.” Finally someone spoke up, “Deadlock is the stuff nightmares are made of, he’s eaten sparklings for dinner and has a pet scraplet.”

Sideswipe blinked slowly, “Skids, what the fuck?” There were a few weak laughs, “No, no, he’s worse than nightmares Sides, he is a walking talking shadow.” Moonracer added, unhelpfully, Anode hummed, “I heard he was the unholy creation of Unicron and death itself.” Sideswipe swore that was from a movie.

Nodding slowly, Sideswipe looked to Chromia, giving a weak shrug, “The other pilots seem to trust him and I’d put my life in Hot Rod’s hands.” Chromia frowned, mouthing ‘Hot Rod’, “So, is that also a pilot nickname?” Trying not to smile, Sides nodded, “Yeah, his name is actually Jesse. But I would not recommend calling him that.” Chronic chuckled a bit and nodded.

They had all heard Hound’s reaction to someone saying his actual name over comms.

Elita was there in an instant, one second she was still across the battlefield and the next she was falling in behind Chromia, grabbing his shoulder and dragging him to her front, “We’re going to make a move towards Optimus, I’ve alerted him to the situation. Chromia is covering our backs and you handle the front, got it?” Nodding, Sideswipe had a moment to breath before they were moving and he was scanning the city streets again.

He turned down the rest of his unit as they slowly switched to other commlines to fall in under other commanders. He didn’t ask questions.

Even though he had a million to ask, he just kept moving as they made their way to the center of the small town. A relatively small building was at the center and there were a few primesguard standing around Optimus Prime, trying to keep him there, apparently.

”Elita!” Optimus managed to side-step his guards and came towards them. Sideswipe almost, almost straightened out of his defensive position but Elita’s hand on his shoulder kept him there, “Don’t move and keep scanning.” Nodding a bit, he sighed and kept looking at the roads.

Behind him, Elita straighten but stayed between him and Chromia, “My Prime,” Optimus looked pained, “I have been alerted to a situation.” Optimus nodded, “I’ve heard, it was recommended that we both move indoors.” He let that hang their in the air for a moment, Sideswipe’s heart jumping into his throat as he saw something move across one of the roads.

Slowly nodding, Elita smiled a bit, “If you shot Deadlock, it’s breaking your own peace treaty, one that has stood for a thousand years.” Optimus shrugged weakly, “If I don’t, then you or Megatron will. For now, we will keep our distance and guard up. Chromia and Sideswipe will remain on guard as they are.” Elita nodded.

It wasn’t at all terrifying that this infamous assassin was probably after them, not at all, switching briefly back to the pilots comm-line, he took a slow breath, “Hey, just so that we’re clear about something, uh, the big scary Decepticon you brought with you Hot Rod has a standing kill order. Apparently he was hired to kill Elita before the end of the war, so,” He paused, not really sure how to end that.

”So, maybe don’t come into the town with him, and stay away from Megatron. Joan looks pissed.” The silence remained palpable, “Who the fuck is Megatron?” Roddy murmured, “Or Joan? Or Elita?! What the hell is happening?!” Chuckling weakly, he glances over his shoulder at Elita, “Uh, it’s a long story. I’d recommend staying away from anyone that isn’t a pilot.”

Hot Rod entered back into the silence before groaning, “How in the name of fuck is Deadlock considered deadly? That dude would hardly hurt a fly let alone giant alien robots!” That finally broke the silence as everyone either chuckled or broke out laughing, “What?!”

Shaking his head a bit, Sideswipe sighed, “Dude, his name is Deadlock.Their parents didn't name them, they earned their names.” Roddy hummed, “Um, then how do you get named after a band?” Everyone groaned then.

”He’s not named after a band and I would not insult him like that, less you want to end up cleaning the outside of a shuttle while in space.” Hot Rod fell silent then. Sideswipe gave it a beat before switching back to his main comm, Chromia leaned forward, “What did you tell them?”

Shrugging, he sighed, “I let them know to keep that assassin away from us unless they want to face Elita’s wrath.” Nodding a bit. Chromia leans back, “Good plan.” Smiling, Sideswipe kept an eye on the streets.

Waiting.

—

Yeah, this was fine.

He was fine.

Totally normal, this wasn’t absolutely world changing or anything.

Practical wormhole application just happens and that’s entirely normal.

How was he able to tell they were no longer near Earth? Well, the sun in the distance was red and the nearest star to their solar system was Proxima Centauri which was 4.25 light-years away from the sun.

Just a casual 4 light years, as if anyone had ever traveled that far, one was nine trillion kilometers. Voyager had only traveled a few billion kilometers from Earth and it had been flying since the 1970’s.

Yet here they were. Standing in the path of a red sun like it was entirely normal. Like this wasn’t the craziest thing to happen to them. Yeah, he was fine.

Even more fine with the fact that five pilots he had assumed were dead were all within a few kilometers of him at this very moment, when everyone back home assumed they all were just floating aimlessly through space. Trying to send supposed data on the enemy back to Earth.

He wasn’t even sure if their relay satellite would help them now, who knew how many light-years away it actually was and radio waves did not travel as fast as light, nor as strongly.

Earth would be lucky to get a blip of a signal from them all the way out here long after they all had died.

His gun moved through the air and fired on the kaiju with ease, it was an impractical weapon when he was in motion but he could spot at least three snipers on different ridges. There wouldn’t be much of a point for him to crouch among the strangers just for a better shot, the more tactical approach was appropriate at the moment. With his comms turned down, the enemy remained the same. He had watched Hound of all pilots shoot through them and tear them apart like they were multi-ton space aliens. No, the man looked like he’d become a hunter class again and had been for a while.

It was possible, of course, to unlock that old coding but within himself and his suit, but it would have taken a great deal to get there. Ratchet would have a field day screaming at Hound, he almost couldn’t wait to watch it all unfold. Almost.

Sighing slowly, he turned and fired quickly, counting the last remaining shots like they were his lifeline. Four left. Swearing quietly, he magnetized the gun to his back easily and adjusted the small bracers on his arms, turning up the others briefly, “Is there going to be a location that we report to or are we going to continue to flounder about?”

The pause was painful, he was used to having command or a handler in his ears, this with other pilots was tense.

Someone sighed, “I guess I’m still incharge.” Hound sounded winded, tired, “Fuck,” There were a few chuckles, “Alright, well we can’t fall in on Sideswipe’s position with that Deadlock guy.” There was a scoff, likely from Ratchet, “So until he is detained or whatever needs to happen, Sideswipe will remain in his position. Uh, Jazz?”

A microphone turned on, which was painfully loud with a screeching kaiju, “Yeah! One second!” And his microphone cut back off.

They fell back into the quiet and Percy had to close his eyes for a moment.

He knew more pilots were awkward introverted people unless they were camera facing, but this was ridiculous.

With a click, Jazz rejoined their comm, “Right, so, yeah. Deadlock will probably need to be detained, war crimes and stuff.” Someone grumbled and another person scoffs, he really didn’t know who, “Which is an understatement, I know, but still. Anyone have eyes on him?”

Ratchet grumbled, “I do and the tense stand off between him and the big guy is not exactly the most entertaining thing.” Pausing Percy frowned and looked around, “What big guy?” Hound sighed, “His name is Megatron,” Roddy jumped in, “Like the band.” Hound continued, “I swear, we will explain everything when the fight is over. For now, focus on the town.”

His throat tightened slightly, “Hound, do we have anyone going after Arcee?” Her line was still quiet, either out of range or worse. He didn’t even want to think about it, “Not yet, I’m seeing who I can get Percy.” Nodding slowly, he looked towards the contrail, “Well, I’m heading that way. Can you patch me in with whoever is joining me?”

“Percy, that isn’t the best idea,” Hound sounded unsure, unsure enough to make his feet move and start running that way, “Yeah, I assumed you’d say that. I’ll open a new comm, connect who you can.” And with that, he disconnected and kept running.

There were something’s he’d never understand about pilots, even with being one himself, one being their lack of action when it came to other pilots. He’d head the mantra, ‘the mission comes first’ a million times over but this was a living, breathing human being who was one of a growing few that could pilot a suit.

A hybrid class, who were even rarer, much like Hound.

They might have been sent to die, but he wouldn’t just let it happen.

His comm line clicked once, then twice before someone cleared their throat, “Uh, Perceptor, is it?” Sighing, he turned up his audio input, “Yes, it is, you are?” There was an awkward pause for a moment, “Hot Shot, sir.” There was another click, “Sorry, Sorry,” the voice sounded tired, “Optimus just cleared me. Breakdown will be joining us shortly.”

There was a breath of relief, clearing his throat a bit, Percy was trying his hardest to not feel awkward, “Yes, hello. So, Hot Shot and?” The delays in these lines were going to drive him crazy, he’d have to check over the translator later.

”The other is Inferno, I’m Moonracer. I typically work for Elita but I’ve been sent to help with search and rescue. These two specialties.” One final click granted Breakdown onto their line, “We are going after Arcee, yes?” Smiling a bit, Percy slowed before pulling up Breakdown’s camera on a separate comm, pinging him with his own.

Breakdown gave a thumbs up and waves, sharing a smile.

He was skinny, much skinnier than he’d thought but not a starving sort of skinny. Just one of a pilot who put a lot of energy into their suit. His throat tightened briefly, “Yes and the Iliad, there are supplies that we’ll need on board, along with the ship itself.” Breakdown nodded, “I don’t know how easy it will be to get the Iliad back to Cybertron. Inferno, could you ask Red Alert?”

With a grumble, Inferno disconnected and the one named Moonracer chuckled, “He hates that.” Breakdown grinned, “I know.”

He blinked slowly, it had been a few years, of course, but this was a conversation between people who knew each other. Worked together. Hot Shot laughed, “You did that on purpose BD, you know we’ll be able to get your human scrap back to Cybertron. It’ll take a few weeks, probably, but come on.” Breakdown’s grin didn’t waver.

Percy kept running, glancing out of the corner of his eye as Breakdown fell in near him. He gawked.

It had been years, but his suit still looked in good condition, better condition than he’d left with more than likely and the paint on it was entirely different. His pilot stripes were back, something Russia and its neighboring countries did instead of numbers, then he also had his MECHA number across his chest.

Something had stripped his old paint and gave him new paint, but not recently. There were scratched and minor dents that hadn’t been repainted recently.

Then, it was only then that it started to hit him. More than the worm-hole, more than the red sun, more than them being alive even, that they had lived among Deadlock’s species for an extended period of time. Long enough that their translators seemed flawless with little delay and that they were working together as a common occurrence.

Who knew what else they had managed to do in the last three years.

The three other mecha fell in with them, all vastly different and not at all like piloting suits, nodding slowly, they kept going.

Finally, their comms clicked again, “I hate when any of you do that, truly, I hate you all.” The others chuckled before Inferno sighed, “Alright, he’s going to send a transport shuttle this way to gather whatever remains of your ship, uh, Perceptor. We’ll help you gather your supplies today and recover your friend.” Nodding again, Percy sighed.

”Arcee is strong, she’ll be fine. She used to be in the rescue class.” Breakdown nodded a bit, “She is what you’d call a bad-aft. If anyone can survive a crashing shuttle, it’s her.” His tone was so sincere, Percy was slightly surprised that Breakdown knew of her, let alone could speak so highly of her.

Sighing, they kept running, the sand slipping under their feet.

—

Maybe it was just him but he fragging— fucking, hated when shit hit the literal fan now, before, back on Earth, it was easy enough the handle. When things went sideways there, he could just request back up or fall back to a better position. He didn’t exactly have to answer to anyone specific like it was here.

He didn’t have someone keeping an eye on him from distances like he did now, so whenever shit hit the fan he just had to handle it before thinking too hard about it. Get it all out of the way as quickly as possible.

The town was well behind him now, though he could feel Mirage’s gaze on him from the ridge, but comms were starting to fade on Sunny and Bluestreak. Along with Ratchet and Megatron.

At the moment, he was tangled with a Quintesson, pulling harshly on its tentacles while his gun was stuck to his arm. Sliding through the damned sand like he was wearing skis, with a sickening squelch he pulled one of the tentacles free, spraying himself with green as he was finally able to grab the gun from his occupied arm and fired.

With a painfully loud scream, the Quintesson loosened its grip briefly and two well placed shots exploded the sand and his suit with green. One from his own gun and hardly a second later Mirage placed his own, unable to not watch him. Smiling a bit, he sent a ping to Mirage in thanks, starting to move again.

“You know, you’re probably the only person I have seen that can make hunting Quintessons hot?” Mirage’s voice had a light hint of static, because of the distance, but Hound grinned anyway, “I don’t know about that one Raj’, you're going to have to take that one up with Bluestreak. He’d argue on Sunny’s behalf.”

Mirage scoffed, “Sunny is a child, Bluestreak is a child, they don’t make anything hot.” Laughing, he shook his head and kept walking, magnetizing his gun again. Brushing his hands together, he kept walking.

The Quintesson ship had been shot down somewhere this way, the same general direction as the Iliad and to be honest, he’d rather run into the enemy ship first than the Iliad.

His orders were loose at the moment, to protect the town and the planet from the Quintessons. Technically he was supposed to meet up with a portion of his unit, but they were supposed to spread out and surround the town. He had yet to run into any of them and they knew this ship crashed over here that morning.

If there were more Quintessons on board, he’d handle it.

”So, can you see the city Mirage? Everything going okay?” Squeezing his hands anxiously into fists, he sighed, Mirage hummed and there was a pause, “Shifting to check now, switching comms.” The disconnect sound was so familiar to him now, it didn’t even phase him.

He kept walking over the sand dunes, waiting patiently.

After the last two years, he’d discovered the one person he consistently had patience for was Mirage, and Mirage for him. It was just easy, easier than it had even been with Sarah and being with her had been as simple as breathing. This was different, there were gaps, of course there were gaps in a relationship like theirs but it was easy to forget when war was involved.

The war had evolved over the last two years, since the attack on Iacon, the Quintessons were getting bolder. Like today, where they had been trying to pin down one spot for weeks and just changed their plan. Him and his pilots had become more than a necessary asset and were now working towards something more, becoming the left hand in all their units.

Shields, the lot of them.

”Alright,” Mirage clicked back in and spoke loudly over the static, “I mean, nothing is exactly going well. Optimus and Elita are just shy of murder, Megatron is in the same state which I don’t know which is worse, than Sunny is handling the clearing of the town now, Jazz is moving your way while Prowl is moving to head off Elita and Optimus, uh, Breakdown joined that other pilot. Another one is moving around near Megatron and that tiny civilian seems to be yelling at everyone.”

He cracked a smile and nodded, “Yeah, that’s Ratchet for you.” Mirage made a noise that was hard to describe, “Ratchet?” His voice was quiet, “Uh, yes. Sorry, what’s wrong with his name?” Mirage cleared his throat a bit, “Nothing, nothing is wrong with it. Just, suprised is all.” Humming, he knew when to ask the question again at another time.

Moving up one of the dunes, he went to say something when several Quintesson screams filled his ears.

There was the crashed ship and a dozen Quintessons screaming at him and flailing their tentacles, swearing he brought his gun back down and started to fire as he scrambled back.

If he could get them out of their hole, then Mirage and Bluestreak could help, “Fuck!” One wrapped a tentacle around his leg and he fired rapidly, Mirage’s strangled tone across the comm was enough to tell he could just see them in his scope. Blaster shorts sprayed sand everywhere.

”—You will like her Moonracer, Arcee is well—“ Breakdown was just at the edge of his comms range, to far to help, but close enough to hear him fucking scream. Muting his microphone instead, he fired several more times before lunging on one of the Quintessons.

Breathing slowly, evening, he dug his hands into its flesh and grasped it while tugging hard. Stumbling back and spreading green across the sand and his plating, a blaster shot singed the sand near his feet. Waving his arm towards Mirage, he shook his head quickly, “Damnit, that is not helping yet.”

He knew his microphone was muted, but he kept muttering to himself, pulling that first Quintesson apart before giving Mirage a thumbs up. Their usual signal to let the other know, to rain hell. Shifting forward on the dune, he waves his arms in the air, “Come on, come get me! Fucking murders!”

Barely able to stumble back in time, only another two got through Mirage and Bluestreak raining gunfire, then handling two others. That would make five of the twelve, man, he was tired of counting.

Throwing himself at one of them, he wedged his arm through the eye socket, grabbing at whatever he could and tugging before plating his foot against its beak and kicking it away. The shrieking died out in a gurgle.

Taking a breath, he dropped the entrails in the sand and turned to the next one, which lingered briefly before flicking its tentacles out towards him. Grabbing hold of them quickly, he pulled it close and slammed his shoulder as hard as he could into its face. The shrieking didn’t stop until it turned to gurgling too, its face crushed in by his fist.

When it fell, he heaved for breath for a moment and unmuted his microphone, switching to the main unit channel, “If anyone is in range, I found the downed ship. There is at least six more Quints, any additional help would be great.” There was just garbled static on the other end.

Sighing and nodding, he threw himself down the sand dune, disappearing from view of Mirage and Bluestreak more than likely but the Quints would keep coming if he didn’t just end this.

Search the ship, kill the Quints, then probably help with the Iliad. Yeah, superstitions, he really believed in them now.