It was about mid afternoon when they returned, a pair of worn out warriors, both damaged and leaking from myriad small punctures.  It was Backstreet who spotted them first, coming across the wasteland that lay between their camp and Viridia.

     “Dogfight and Kobal are over there.” he said lazily, pointing off to the north.  The other three peered out, and sure enough, there they were.  It looked like one of them was badly injured, and the other was supporting him.  But from this distance, it was impossible to tell who was who.  Moving slowly, Chamber got to his feet, transforming into his tank alternate and heading off towards them.  Even in his bulky alternate mode he was much faster than they were, and managed to close the distance between them quickly.  The three Autobots still at the base watched as they apparently held some kind of conversation, then the badly injured Autobot was heaved up onto Chamber’s hull, and the less injured one clambered up as well.  Executing a rather impressive three-point turn, Chamber reversed his direction and returned to the base, making a trip that would have taken the pair all afternoon in only a half-hour.  By the time they got back, Ironhide was waiting for them, as well as Hoist.

     As soon as the massive Autobot came to a stop, Hoist hurried into action, taking Kobal as he was lowered down by Dogfight.  The med-bot moved off towards the repair bay, grumbling about young Autobots and their wild nature.

     “I’m back, sir.” Dogfight said, clambering back down Chamber’s side.  He dropped down, and came to attention in front of his CO.  Ironhide, however, did not look happy to see him.

     “Congratulations, Dogfight.  You may have just started another civil war.”  Ironhide turned away, motioning for Dogfight to follow him.  Neither of them spoke until they got back to Ironhide’s office.

     “I’m glad you got Punch out of there, and off the record, it’s a good thing your team managed to take out Dead End.  The last thing we need is another gestalt in the hands of the enemy.”  Ironhide was standing with his hands behind his back, looking out the window behind his desk.  “But you got sloppy, Dogfight.  A sensor tech spotted your team moving off, and now Optimus knows.”

     “Sir, I apologize for my miscalculation, and take full responsibilty…”  But he got no further before Ironhide interrupted him.  “Please, Dogfight.  Do you really think that a single Transformer could take the blame for this?  It’s not like you were under orders, or giving them.  No, this time we’re all in hot water.  I just hope it was worth it.”

     “Sir, we rescued an Autobot citizen from being summarily executed by Decepticon forces.” Dogfight objected.  “How could it not be worth it?”  Ironhide turned to answer, but was interrupted by a transmission-warning signal.  Straightening up, he looked into the viewscreen, preparing himself.  A good thing, considering who was on the line.

     “Ironhide, I’m afraid that I have grave news.” Optimus said, obviously not wanting to waste time on small talk.  Which was fine with him.  After all, it would probably just be Optimus chewing him out some more.

     “What is it, sir?” he asked, coming to attention.  Something in Optimus’ voice told him whatever it was, it was going to be big; a premonition which would prove true in another moment.

     “There is a contingent of Decepticon forces being dispatched from Viridia.  Though we can’t be sure, we think that Motormaster himself has taken command of the unit, and is leading it directly to your position.”  He paused for a moment, distracted by something off screen.  When his attention returned, he was just as somber looking.

     “I’m afraid that I’ve just received some troubling news.  There is no chance that forces dispatched from even the closest Autobot position could reach you before the enemy, and the margin is too large for them to make a difference when they arrived.  I’m afraid that you and your men are on your own.” Prime said, his voice grim.  He hated the fact that his men were cut off, unreachable and insupportable, while he was stuck safely back in Cybertropolis.  “Good luck, Ironhide.  May Primus protect you.” he finished.  Ironhide had time only to sketch a quick salute before Optimus cut the channel.  He didn’t move for a few moments afterwards, lost in thought.

     “So, we’re boned?” Dogfight asked from behind him, startling Ironhide.  He had forgotten that the aerial warrior was even there in the wake of this new problem.

     “Not while I’m on watch.” Ironhide responded forcefully, turning back to face Dogfight.  Jabbing his finger down at his desk, he activated the intercom, setting it to broadcast across the base.  “All Autobots, a Decepticon force is on it’s way here.  All hands to their stations, this is the real thing boys and girls.”  Drawing his arm back in, the intercom switched off, and he turned to Dogfight.

     “Go find me the Terran commander.” he ordered.  “Tell him I need to speak with him.  Now!”  The last word was spoken with so much force that Dogfight bolted out the door, rushing over towards the Terran command center.  This, he thought to himself, was bad.  Very bad.

     “I don’t see that we have much choice, colonel.” Ironhide said to McQueen.  The Terran was in his power armour, which meant his head came up to a little under Ironhide’s armpit.  The pair were leaning over a large table with a holographic generator built in, which was displaying an overhead view of the surrounding area.  “There is no chance that we can defend both installations.  And as my men can’t work in yours, I’m afraid that we have no choice but to transfer our men here.”

     “I know,” McQueen sighed.  “I know.  It’s just that it feels like those damn ‘Cons already have us on the run.  But you’re right.  I’ll signal my men to move everything they can into this enclosure.  Now, where should we deploy?” he asked, peering at the map.  Neither he nor any other man in Terran history had commanded troops against an anticipated Transformer attack, so he was making new doctrine as he went along.

     “The most likely route will be south, swinging around the wasteland.  It’s fine to take small squads through, but nobody could get an army through there in anything under three days.” Ironhide responded, highlighting the area on the map.  It looked good, McQueen thought.

     “But all Decepticon forces can fly.  Won’t he think of coming in through the air?” the Colonel asked, curious.  “Not likely,” Ironhide responded.  “Coming in airborne means they show up better on our sensors.  And while Motormaster may not care about that, his men are damn sure going to balk at making themselves more vulnerable than they have to.  No, he’ll keep his forces together and drive through here.” Ironhide said, highlighting a section of the terrain between Viridia and their camp, which they had christened Hope.  The area shown was a patch of overhang from the wasteland, an area where the huge concentrations of both raw materials and Transformer corpses meant that sensors would have a hard time picking out living Transformers from the landscape.  And though it was a fairly difficult trip to make, it was far from impossible, and Ironhide expected the enemy to arrive within the next day.

     “Looks good, commander.” McQueen said, making sure he had the strategy right.  A miscalculation here could be fatal, he thought to himself, and he had no intention of getting killed on this iron sphere.  “Shall I have my men bring in the HQ unit from my base as well?”

     “Couldn’t hurt.” Ironhide replied.  “You can never have too many redundant systems going into battle.  Good luck, Colonel.” Ironhide finished, given the Terran salute.  McQueen snapped to attention, giving the Transformer salute in return before hurrying out of the building.  There was a lot to be done, and not much time to do it in.

     “I hate this place.”  Above him was a ceiling, perfectly white and sterile, just like the rest of this place.  There was a single light, a long rectangular one, which was emitting a very low level of illumination.  Off to his side, he could hear the sound of machinery monitoring his condition, and he felt an itch in his side where the nanite reconstruction drones were rebuilding his stomach.  He still couldn’t believe he’d gotten shot, and then blacked out on the ride back.

     From outside the door, he could hear a pair of voices, but they were too muffled for him to understand the words.  They spoke for a short while, then stopped, and Kobal waited to see what was going to happen.

     He had never, however, expected Dogfight to come in the room, quietly making his way towards Kobal.  The triggerbot commander settled into the chair beside the bed, looking at Kobal.  “You look like crap.” he said at last.  Kobal chuckled softly, turning his head to face Dogfight.  “At least this is a new look for me.” He said softly, and Dogfight couldn’t help but laugh.

     “Glad to see you’re all right, kid.” Dogfight said.  “I was worried about you for a while.”

     “Yeah, well, you weren’t the only one.  I didn’t think we’d make it out of Viridia for a while, especially when those three ‘Cons got on our tail.”  Kobal paused, gathering his strength.  He was still pretty weak, and though the nanites were doing a good job, they still had to take their time.  The systems in the area they were working on were quite delicate, and the programmers hadn’t wanted to risk them accidentally making it worse.

     “Dogfight, what’s happening?  Everyone seems on edge, but no-one will tell me what’s going on.” Kobal said at last.  Dogfight looked away, but Kobal wasn’t about to let him ignore the question.  “I’m serious, Dogfight.  What’s happening out there that’s got everybody spooked?”

     Dogfight took a deep breath before answering, and leaned in closer to Kobal.  “When we busted Punch out, we killed Dead End.  You know who that is?”  Kobal nodded.  Of course, everyone knew the names of the Gestalts.  Oh crap!  Gestalts?  Motormaster was a Gestalt.

     “I see you got it, kid.  Motormaster went nuts as near as we can tell, and he’s marching everyone out of Viridia to come get us.”  Dogfight leaned back in his chair.  “Looks like we’re out of the frying pan, and right into the fire.”